Day 5 - St. Petersburg, Russia (July 5th)

We were all on time thankfully. I didn't want to miss a moment of my most anticipated port. The group decided it was a good idea to go down to the gangway and see if we could be first to escape the ship; It was a bad idea. We were clearly told that a formal announcement would be made before we could disembark. So in the interim we decided to hang out on deck. Down below near the gangway, an enthusiastic Russian band playing Sousa marches entertained us. The docks looked extensive and the only semblance of St. Petersburg was what looked like the dome of St. Isaac's Cathedral far in the distance. When the announcement came, a last minute check was made to make sure we had our passports plus copy, our Den Rus tickets, our bank-account-draining $588 two-day tour fee and our boxed lunches.

We made our way smoothly through customs to the only mini-van in sight. Waiting for us was a large, formidable looking older woman by the name of Ludmila (pic right >) who rushed us aboard and with microphone in hand welcomed us to the Soviet Union. The Soviet Union? When I asked her why she didn't welcome us to Russia, I never got a straight answer but I soon realized that if you were going to ask Ludmila a question it better be an intelligent one. She never answered a question with a straight yes or no even if the question were posed in that manner. Like Estonia, none of that North American superficiality here and it was refreshing (at first anyway). It took at least 10 minutes to escape the endless docks and it was easy to see that Ludmila wasn't kidding when she said that shipping was Russia's primary industry. The immediate feeling I felt escaping the docks and driving into town was that of a city long forgotten. The grand buildings were worn and dirty and if I hadn't had an extra cup of coffee that morning, I think I would have been a little depressed.

We were given 600 seconds for our first photo stop in front of Monument to Nicholas I (< pic left). It was a great opportunity to get an early morning shot of Russia's 19th Century military leader with St. Isaac's Cathedral in the background but the aggressiveness of the street peddlers who were desperate to sell historic military garb got us back in the van well within that time limit. After a quick stop at the Monument to Catherine the Great in a small park scattered with sleeping locals, we were dropped off for our first complimentary toilet break at a souvenir shop. You have to pay to poop in Russia unless you're willing to shop. "Don't buy any of the souvenirs. They're overpriced," Ludmila warned us. Didn't stop us from enjoying a few shots of complimentary Russian vodka though. Our 30-kilometer trek out to Peterhof, the imperial estate of Russia's first czar, Peter the Great was particularly eye opening. There were no bikes in Russia, we were told. Heavy traffic and nauseating car fumes prodded me to turn to Marty and exclaim, "I can't imagine they have mandatory smog checks here." Remains of Soviet power are illustrated by the depressing 1950s era high-rise apartment buildings amidst the occasional statue, building or bridge dedicated to the Communist regime (pic right >). The countryside made way for parks where the lawns were dotted with sunbathers but nary a pool or sprinkler was seen. Most obvious was that very few Russians smiled or seemed to be having a good time. When I asked Ludmila how people were adjusting to Democracy, it was clear that she missed the benefits of her Soviet past and was slightly offended by my suggestion of adjustment. The young may be finding benefits but the old people have been left without the financial support that the former Communist regime provided. She spoke longingly of the past when everyone had access to education and the arts. It's become a society of survival of the fittest and it appears that there are more less fit than fit.

"Is it Peterhof or Petergof?" I asked. Ludmila threw me another one of those looks and exclaimed emphatically that it was "Peterhof". Still doesn't explain why my Latvian friend tell's me it's Gof nor the endless websites, which trumpet it as so. Regardless, the estate thoroughly destroyed during the 2nd World War and remarkably restored, is an extravagant throwback to Czarist Russia and its grandness. It's a long rectangular building with room after room of about the same size. Most contain a floor to ceiling porcelain stove and are decorated with the gaudiest ornate gold design imaginable. There really couldn't have been any more gold. Views out the back allow an optimum view of the fountains, fashioned after Versailles (pic below) . They apparently run on gravity! I purchased a beautiful print of Soviet propaganda art from the palace shop only to have it accidentally crumpled by Janet when I handed her the camera to get a shot of me running through one of the fountains. Containing my anger was the greatest effort I made all day and when Penny asked if I wanted a photo of the two of us in front of the palace, I begrudgingly obliged.

It was lunchtime. Can we enjoy our lunches outside somewhere in a park? Are you kidding? "Only gypsies do that in Russia! It's rude," I was told. It was too hot in the van to eat our lunches so Ludmila and Slava, our driver, had to find us somewhere. We eventually were dropped off on some benches in front of the Peter and Paul Fortress minutes before the first downpour of our trip hit. I think Ludmila and Slava hid so as not to be associated with their picnic eating tour group. Historical executions took place here but now what remains is a large crypt where all of Russia's former rulers and their families sleep for eternity (pic right >). Even the remains of Nicholas the 2nd, the last Russian czar and most of his family have recently been interred here. I found more Soviet Propaganda art and some fantastic postcards at a fraction of the cost I paid for the now damaged print I picked up at the Peterhof estate. Next stop was an inside tour of St. Isaac's Cathedral. I'm sorry but if I'd never been inside St. Peter's Basilica before, this would have been breathtaking. A quick stop at St. Petersburg's only remaining synagogue was made at Marty's request. Unlike the cathedral we just left, it was mandatory I wear a hat here. The rabbi was most welcoming and was even willing to take Janet and me for a kosher meal at his restaurant down the street. The guide, a lively young girl with a fantastic sense of humor gave us a brief history of the Moorish designed building before we were rushed back to the van. I later found out that a landmine had been found in the gardens outside just a little over a year before our visit.

We only had an hour to get formally dressed and grab some dinner before we were to head out for our only Holland America booked tour: Gala at Yusupov Palace. I've always been fascinated by Yusupov Palace since seeing the film, "Nicholas and Alexandra" in high school. This is the location where Rasputin, the psychic to Russia's last czarina, Alexandra was poisoned. We were taken to the basement where the first attempt on Rasputin's life was made by feeding him poisoned cakes and then shown his escape route to the courtyard where he ran after the poison and a gunshot had little effect. The tour was followed by an overlong performance of a Russian folk band accompanied by hors d'oeuvres and champagne in a large hall and subsequently a recital of young classical singers who gave some fantastic interpretations of Mozart classics in an intimate theatre. It all felt so dignified until after the show when we found the tenor and baritone hawking their CDs just outside the door. As fascinating as this all was, I couldn't take the immense heat in the palace. Air conditioning is as rare as bicycles in St. Petersburg. Combine this with the long day and lack of sleep, I didn't feel I got the most out of the Yusupov tour.

Returning to the ship, we saw many of the crew, disembarking in nightclub attire, likely for a night out to enjoy the four-week celebratory period known as White Nights. It lasts from late June through early July when the sun never fully sets and Russians aptly celebrate in nightlong hedonism. Exhausted anyway and more importantly, visa-less we made do with a 1AM photo op from Lido deck of the beautiful twilight sky and celebratory fireworks (pic above ^). I had never been more ready for a sea day than this day. Thankfully the 2nd half of our Den Rus tour didn't leave till 9AM the next day.