March 22, 2001 (Day 15)

March 22, 2001 (Day 15): Hotel St. Petersburg, St. Petersburg – 9.15pm

Health:  good. Continuing to sleep well.

Morale: OK, despite the overcast skies and chilly temps this morning of -6°C.

After breakfast, we went across the bridge to the cruiser Aurora. This ship fired a blank shell (it had little else to fire) to signal the assault on the Provisional Government in the Winter Palace – the shot that started the October Revolution. I thought I remembered a blank shot fired from the Naryshkin Bastion at the Peter and Paul Fortress which prompted the Aurora to fire its shot – making the Naryshkin the opening shot – but that is a debate best left to the history books.

On-board, a map detailing her voyages. She served in the Far East during the Russo-Japanese War, played a role in the First World War and, to a lesser degree, served in the Second. Since all of the displays were in Russian, my ability to glean much more was limited. The ship is very well maintained. Apart from its historical significance, part of the lure was to be aboard a real late-19th Century warship, complete with wooden decks.

Following this, we wandered down to the nearby Peter and Paul Fortress. Within its walls is a cathedral that is the final resting-place of the Romanovs, including the recently-interred Nicolas II and family. There are two entrance prices – one for locals and long-term residents, another for foreigners. I am usually OK with paying the higher foreigner rate since my taxes are not contributing to the upkeep – as long as the difference is clearly noted. The lovely woman behind the counter really, really wanted to give us the discounted admission but I was not on the ball.

“Are you students?”  No.
“Are you in Russia a long time?”  Sorry.

Either way, the cost was fair.

It was worth the admission price just to see the cathedral. It is not an architectural marvel but rather a simple wooden church detailed to look like it was constructed of marble. Yet herein lay the bodies of the Romanovs from Peter the Great through Nicolas II and including Vladimir, a royal descendant who passed away in 1992, considered by one warring tentacle of the family as a possible heir. Nicolas II and family are in a small antechamber off the entrance. Marble tablets line the wall paying honor to his children, some of whose remains were not recovered.

We then bought a ticket to the fortress walls. The museum provided a cool booklet with the ticket that could be folded (and unfolded) to identify the buildings and points of interest visible from the ramparts. As we wandered, the sun peeked through the clouds and a light snow began to dust the panorama of St. Petersburg. This was how I always envisioned the city: cold, clear, and experiencing a constant gentle snowfall. I never counted on the dirt, pollution, and general state of decay that even an uninterrupted snowfall could not conceal. I am always looking over my shoulder, expecting at any moment to see Pierce Brosnan driving by in a commandeered tank.

Unlike some of the daring local residents, we chose not to try our luck on the ice and opted to cross the frozen Neva River using the bridge. Walking through a park past the Admiralty we went to the famous bronze statue of Peter the Great on horseback. One of the other major sites in St. Petersburg is St. Isaac’s Church, which has a dome easily visible throughout much of the city. Due to ticket and queuing indignities, we chose not to enter.

One of our travel books recommended a restaurant called Crocodile in the neighborhood down from the statue of Peter the Great hidden down a claustrophobic street. As the name suggests, the restaurant decor was ‘early reptilian’. Yet, the style was not as horrible as I had imagined. There was a croc mosaic inlaid on the wooden floors and artwork featuring crocodiles adorning the walls. After a few moments, I realized that the coat hooks on the walls were stylized crocodiles and the designs on the lights were arty croc representations. That said, the food and the atmosphere were rather good.

Any degree of good taste and restraint exhibited in the decoration was undone with the music that piped in overhead. I was not paying attention to the music at first – I did not expect to understand the lyrics of songs. Then one of the tunes started to sound familiar. It was the Britney Spears song, “Lucky”, was being covered by the male offspring of an unholy union of Leon Redbone and Tiny Tim, armed with a Wurlitzer organ. While his version of Tom Jones’ version of “Sex Bomb” was one for the ages, his interpretation of Queen’s “We Will Rock You” was chilling.

Something happened in the news today. The only phrases I understood in the Russian broadcast were “persona non grata”, “George Bush”, and “Colin Powell”. Since the reporters were in the United States, I am left to assume that the US was expelling Russian diplomats – or something to do with the Ford Ka and the moose.

Excerpts from Anna’s journal included.

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