We awoke on our first morning in St Petersburg with the smell of pancakes wafting through the air. Our hostel, although strangely bereft of showers, had an abundance of pancakes for their guests. They didn’t have to ask us twice, as we sat down at the kitchen table to eat enough to prepare us for the big day we had planned.
With our money belts on, and holding tightly onto our handbags, we stepped out of the hostel into the great unknown. Only to find that the busy streets of yesterday had turned into a sleepy Saturday morning. Feeling immediately safer we went in search of our first stop. Coffee.
The streets were devoid of any such chains as Starbucks or Gloria Jeans but we found the next best thing. We utilised our Russian alphabet translation to decode the cryptic Cyrillic to mean Coffee House. There we checked our maps, coordinated our watches and began the journey through the streets to the St Peter and St Paul Fortress.
After a long walk we arrived at what we presumed to be our destination, only to be stopped in our tracks by the sounds of gunfire, and what sounded like a cannon. Intrigued we walked around the fortress closer to the action where we discovered men in costume reenacting a Russian battle. That’s what we think was happening anyway. Either way it was much more interesting than the usual changing of the guards.
After the final displayed of Russian coloured fireworks (of course they won this battle) we continued on to line up for tickets to St Petersburg's first Cathedral. Our first experience of the queuing culture of the Russian people. Clearly it doesn't matter how many people appear to be waiting, if there is any personal space between the person currently purchasing tickets and the person directly behind them then of course it means its your turn next, A few elbows needed to be thrown to assert some authority but eventually we came away with 'dva' tickets to the 5 attractions the fortress had to offer.
We started off in the Cathedral, where all the royal Tsars and Tsarinas after Peter the Great had been interred. After being suitably impressed by the high ceilings, ornate gold trim, artifacts and artwork we moved onto the fortress's second main attraction: the prison. It was here that we discovered for the first time that the explanations in Russian museums are invariably in Russian, and that English translations are very few on the ground.
We also learnt that the prison was far more luxurious than any other we had previously visited. With one person in each cell that would usually be split into at least 2 cells, and soundproof walls to prevent communication between prisoners we found it was really a much better place to stay than our current hostel. No noisy neighbours, sounds of the street, or sleeping on a hard plank of wood with your belongings on top of you due to lack of space. The perfect location for an afternoon nanna nap.
After attempting to find the other three attractions of the fortress listed on our tickets (we eventually found one - we think) we walked along the canal on Vasilyevsky Island and back over the bridge in search of a Cossack dancing show, with a few scribbles in Megan's notebook as a guide. After being momentarily distracted by open-air performances of Russian rap and Russian country and western music (a new experience for both of us) and hindered by the lack of street signs in any language we managed to find the palace where the 'Feel yourself Russian' show was being held. That's right, the Nikolasky Palace.
Feeling decidedly grubby in clothes we had been wearing all day, we wandered up the pebbled drive and into the foyer. Patiently we waited outside a door to be invited in to buy tickets. After keeping us standing there very confused as to what was going on for a considerable amount of time we were rushed up the grand stairs with no time to stop for a photo and hurried to the door where the show was about to begin. Apparently we were very close to late.
The show itself delighted us with both the brilliance and tackiness of it all. Amazing strength and flexibility were seen as the men forced their bodies to perform stunts only seen in circus shows, and the females battered their handkerchiefs and swirled there shawls in unprecedented displays of shameless flirtation. After surviving the intermission, when the whole audience descended like a plague of locusts onto a row of tables where the light refreshments were held, it was back inside for some more Cossack dancing. The costumes were incredible, and after taking photos, we left vowing to spend our trans-Mongolian train trip learning the complex dance moves.
We headed off in the direction of our hostel, but we still had one last stop to make - the supermarket. We had been told that the cheese Cheetos were a blast from the past not to be missed and that Russia has a certain affiliation with cheap vodka. We stocked up on some pineapple juice, savory ring shaped snaky-type food and the best looking carton of mini chupa-chups, along with the aforementioned cheap vodka.
Now it was back to our hostel for a relaxing night in and a long long wait for a shower.
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