St Petersburg

Although I'd been in Russia for the best part of a month, I'd not actually been in once place for more than about 4 days and I was starting to become very aware of this fact. There's a lot to be said for fitting in a lot of places in a small amount of time, but I was starting to want to get somewhere and stay there for longer, to get to really know the place and actually take my pack off and leave it off for longer than 3 nights... St Petersburg was the perfect place to do that.

"It's in Russian, but it's not Russian" someone famous (who's name I can't recall) once said about St Petersburg, and it's a perfect summation of the city. It's absolutely nothing at all like any of the other Russian cities, either in architecture or atmosphere... it's much more, for want of a better word, European. There's less police presence, the overall age of people is younger, it's more chilled out... it just didn't feel like Russia anymore. Even the road signs have their English translation underneath for anyone who can't get the Cyrillic down, and there's maps everywhere letting you know where you are, and an endless list of where to head to next. In short, it's a tourist's paradise.

So, like I said, in this city I was hoping to relax a bit more and take my time to get to know it rather than racing around - by the looks of things, even a week wasn't going to be enough time here, but I checked into the hostel and spent my first day just wandering around, orientating myself and checking out a few of the islands that make up the city. St Petersburg was built on marsh-land and as such has canals running along it to control the yearly floods which could seriously disrupt things. As well as the canal, there's the huge Neva river that splits the city in two, and each of the islands are joined by bridges which open to allow ships through at night. I knew that Zenit St Petersburg had a home match in the champions league on the second night I was there, so thought that I'd try to get a ticket for it. Outside the Sportivnaya stadium, touts were offering tickets for 2500 roubles (about £50) which was a complete non-starter... I decided I'd just come back before the game the next night to try again. And that was pretty much about it for my first day there! I knew my way around better than when I'd arrived, and I'd really just taken in a bit of the atmosphere of the city and wandered Dostoevsky's streets... it was a nice change from previously getting to a city and having to crowbar activities into every possible hour.

I don't know if anyone has heard of it, but St Petersburg is famous for the Hermitage, a huge art gallery/museum which is housed in the Tsar's winter palace, at the top of Nevsky Prospect on the banks of the Neva. It was famously attacked during the siege of Leningrad... Well anyway, it's absolutely massive. From the outside it towers over you intimidatingly and you're left wondering if you're prepared to be drowned in so much culture so quickly. The short answer for me was that I wasn't. I mean, not only is there the Picasso's, Rembrandt's, Monet's, Da Vinci's etc etc, but there's also so much other amazing Russian, Flemish, British, French and Italian art work... The Roman Sculptures... Then an Ancient Egypt exhibit... Then temporary exhibitions... Further classical art... And then there's the building itself who's interiors just leave you gobsmacked before you look at what's adorning the walls. It was free to get in (the bonus of having a student card) and I wish I'd thought on more and left after the first hour and came back to tackle more of it on other days, because after that first hour, which was absolutely amazing, I was completely saturated and wandered round with less and less enthusiasm in each room, to the point where I was basically on auto-pilot and going around just to say I'd seen it all, but not having any real interest in any of it. It was, I admit, a bit of a waste, and I'm left regretting it now... But I challenge anyone to spend 3 hours in a museum, to only see about 1/3 of what it has to offer and not feel overwhelmed. Actually walking outside felt like a relief that I wasn't penned in by priceless works of art anymore and could breathe air that wasn't musty! Don't get me wrong, it is absolutely fantastic, I just approached it wrongly - if anyone ever goes, take it in bite-size chunks rather than attempting to devour the whole experience at once.

That night, despite being completely shattered after the exertions of the day, I was still set on going to the Zenit match so jumped on the metro and made my way there. The match had just kicked off by the time I got to the gates and approached a first tout who wanted ridiculous money still... but I kept trying and with about 10 minutes of the game gone one fella must've decided to cut his losses and sold me a ticket behind the goal for 400 (less that £10)! I was like an excited schoolboy then and raced towards the stadium only to be confronted with a wall of riot police, each of who were well over 6 foot tall, 4 foot wide and carried batons and guns. I got searched by one of them who then shouted at me in Russian to move on and I stumbled, dizzy from the experience, over to the gate to go up the steps... where I was searched again by a man equally as big as the first. I don't think I'll ever forget the look that the second one gave me, it was like Ivan Drago when he's just killed Apollo Creed in Rocky IV... In hindsight it's a great stereotype to have experienced, the overly-angry Russian riot policeman, but terrified me at the time. Never-the-less, I bound up the steps and took my place on the terraces.

It was absolutely brilliant: pints being downed, dirty burgers being eaten and spilt everywhere, cigarettes being chain smoked and swearing aplenty - and this was all from the glamorously dressed women. The men were like wild animals, jumping continuously, screaming and shouting, spilling beer everywhere... this is how football is meant to be! Retrospectively I can see just how, even though the Premier League and Sky have helped British football a lot, they have taken away the character of the game at home - I wish it was still like this. In fact it reminded me a lot of the days when my Dad used to take me to stand in the Fulwell end at Roker park to cheer on Sunderland, even the fact that the team I was supporting was losing 1-0 despite dominating the game. The wild eyed man next to me grabbed me by the shoulder as another chant started and must've noticed I didn't know the words, and asked where I was from so I promptly told him I was from England, to which he cried out, "ENGLAND?? AND YOU LIKE ZENIT?? AAAH! MY ENGLISH FRIEND!!!" and gave me his scarf! I gave him a Sunderland pin badge that I had on my jacket which he gladly took, although I doubt he even knows what it is now nevermind at the time. When Zenit scored to make it 1-1 it just went mad, flares going off, people hugging and crying, you'd have thought they'd won the league not equalised at home to a team no-one's ever heard of... and it really reminded me that football needs passion like that to appeal to people, and again, that's what seems to be missing from the majority of English football nowadays in my opinion. The match finished shortly after, and everyone traipsed off in whatever direction home was, drinking their bottles of Nevskoe lager and singing songs that I still didn't understand.

Wednesday a group of us from the Hostel decided to head out to Peterhof, about a half hours bus ride from the city centre and home to the Palaces of the Tsars. Tom (again!), a Russian girl called Lena, a German named Danny and myself all jumped on the bus and arranged to meet Roman, a friend of Lena's, out there to show us around. Inside the gardens themselves the fountains had actually been turned off by this time, much like most of the fountains in the Russian cities are at this time of year - I'm not entirely sure, but I think it's just to do with how cold it actually gets and fears of the water freezing in the pipes. But anyway, the gardens and the palaces of Peterhof are absolutely gorgeous, again almost something you need to see to believe because of the scale of them - the lower gardens are over 3km long and 2km wide and it took most of the morning for our tour. It was then suggested that we went to a nearby secluded Baltic beach to drink vodka and eat dried squid which everyone was more than happy with. Again, we were treat to the "customs" of Russians that results in drinking lots and doing so very quickly because our bottle of vodka was more than half gone after only being there about 15 minutes. Roman suggested we went off to his University halls and carried on the festivities because his room-mates wanted to meet us so we took the short trip there. More vodka and beer followed (as well as the customary post-vodka herring chasers) whilst we sat singing songs along to Roman's guitar playing and generally got a lot drunker, to the point that Tom, Danny and me decided it was time to head back before things got too messy. We said our farewells and they took photos of themselves with us because we were the first westerners they'd ever met... I don't think that the photo's they've taken will leave a very good impression.

That night a few of us from the hostel went out to watch the football at the pub (me and Tom decided that back in the confines of the hostel that we actually wanted more beer, not less) and then out to watch the bridges being raised and the boats coming in. We met a small man on the way who accompanied us and actually gave us some great facts about the bridges and the boats which passed through because he used to work on them. Back in the hostel, more alcohol flowed and I think we all ended up talking rubbish until about 5am. I did hear a great argument on the street outside the hostel which was kindly translated to me by Lena: One of a group of three lads was staggering away from his two friends professing "I have to go home!! I'm absolutely wasted!", to which his friends replied "What?!?! Stay out with us! Drink more!". The first lad then said "I can't... I have a wife! You should both go home too!" and the other two laughed and just said "All the more reason not to!!". I really enjoyed the fact that, although we consider Russia to be such a far off and completely different place, that a drunken argument was taking place that wouldn't have been out of place in any city or town or village in Britain. Maybe we're not that different after all?

The next morning came and went without me even attempting to get out of my bed. By about 1.30pm I'd finally got myself together and Tom and me headed off down to the Dostoevsky museum, which is housed in his old flat and was very very good. I was actually in the middle of reading Crime and Punishment when we went there (what a walking cliche I am) so I enjoyed it even more because of that. Then, since it was well after 5pm and everything was closing, we took the obligatory canal boat ride, which was completely rubbish because it was all in Russian and it rained very heavily. So, essentially we spent £6 to sit below deck on a boat not being able to see anything that the guide was talking about... not that we could've understood even if we had been able to see. Like I say, not one of the better decisions I made on this trip!

More sightseeing on the Friday included a "Peter's walk" which is recommended in all guidebooks and hostels as a chance to see an alternative side of St Petersburg. Like all those kind of things though, it had good parts and some bad ones - good bits included seeing Raskolnikov's flat (more Crime and Punishment), hearing of how close Lenin was to being caught the night before the Revolution, seeing where Rasputin was murdered and also being able to talk to the guide about growing up in Russia nowadays, which he claims is good, "as long as you don't take much interest in the politics and just keep your head down... much the same as previous generations". What struck me was that, even as educated as our guide was - a political science graduate with a top degree (well... so he told us!) - the level of anger he still feels towards America, and how he blamed their paranoia for the paranoia that envelops Russia now. I have to say, having been to America, the situation there is not anywhere near as bad, in my experience of official paranoia, as in Russia where you feel on edge each time you see a policeman. I don't see relations thawing between the two nations anytime soon, much as though I'd like to. Finally, we rounded off the week at the Russian Political History museum, which gave you a chance to go and sit in Lenin's office from where he dictated to his comrades, and see pictures of Rasputin after they'd murdered him, all of which were very gruesome.

Saturday? Well, I can only say that I found a pub to watch the match in... found a load of Mackems to watch it with... and got very drunk again. 2-1..... ;-)

My last day in St Petersburg I headed, hungover again, to the Russian museum which houses only Russian art and is very impressive... I have to say, there's something strange about wandering around an art gallery with a hangover and it's actually quite enjoyable - maybe because it's so quiet. I'm sure I was the only one in there in that state anyway. Inside, there was more work by VV Vereschagin (who I'd previously been impressed with in Perm), as well as a brilliant painting by Alexey Savrasov called "Sunrise in the Steppe". As I was leaving St Petersburg - and as such, Russia - that night, upon leaving the museum I had time to kill, so wandered around the streets a bit more. It was bitterly cold, but still really enjoyable. Like I said about Moscow, St Petersburg is a great city, but differently to Moscow, I'd move there in the blink of an eye. It has so much to do and see, the people are friendlier, it's more beautiful to look at... everything about it gets under your skin, or got under mine at least.

So I crossed the border into Estonia early on the Sunday morning, having not slept at all because the man in the seat next to me sat in 2/3 of my seat as well as all of his. The border crossing was simple... I expected more fanfare I think. Just like that, my Russian adventure was over - and even ended with a smile from someone in public service, a fittingly confusing end to it all. What an amazing country Russia is... So many potential countries and divides within it that even being there a month is nowhere near long enough to take it all in. I got so far speaking barely any of their language, I can only imagine what it'd be like to do it again being fluent. And then I wonder what it'd be like in a different season - to see Siberia covered in snow would be something else entirely. The people? Well despite all you hear, they're not that dissimilar to you and me. They have their worries and concerns, but they also, from my experience, will help anyone that needs it and talk away to you through charades and picture drawing if you can't find a common language. I had an absolutely amazing time. A major reason for me wanting to visit Russia was because we hear so little of it in western media, we know so little of what it's really like and have even less understanding. After a month there, I've learnt so much, yet I don't know if I understand it yet. There's so many contradictions that you encounter each day, and it is just SO BIG that I don't know if you can ever really understand it... So many natives don't so can I even hope to? What I do know is that it definitely doesn't scare me anymore, and I hope that me writing this has opened your mind to maybe go and experience it yourself.

It's nowhere near as scary as everyone tells you...

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