St. Petersburg....Amsterdam on the Neva

Founded by Peter the Great in 1703, St. Petersburg reflects Peter's desire to move Russia to the west, both literally and psychologically.  A low-rise city, the central area was constructed along man-made canals, reflecting those that Peter had seen during his travels and escapades in Europe, especially Amsterdam.  The photos below are in order in which they were taken, and so may appear a bit jumbled.  However, if I spent the time putting them in  better sequence, I'd never get them posted.  So...we are now in St. Petersburg, Russia.

Tiny but very quiet, clean, functional hotel room.  I heard from her friends that Chantal invested much time and energy into finding a place that fit my needs...and pocket book.  Thank you, my dear!!!!

View from my window.  Anyone wish to sound out the Russian?

Interior of Kazansckiy Sobor ... Cathedral of Our Lady of Kazan.  Chantal was accustomed to speaking Russian, especially when referring to places, but I did finally realize that sobor is church or cathedral.  Russian Orthodox churches are truly richly decorated. 

The three mousketeers, with Chantal on the left.  Notice that in this sobor, we're covering our heads, a requirement in active churches.  Churches which are museums only do not require head coverings.

Moi and my dear, patient, knowledgeable guide.  Thanks to cousin Suzanne for my head covering.

Walking from Kazansckiy Sobor to our canal tour.

Chantal, her classmates, and instructors celebrated successful completion of their year studying Russian in St. Petersburg with a canal cruise, just for this group.  For most of them, this time on the canal was not their first, but for me.....I was thrilled!

Sitting next to one of Chantal's good friends.  The three mousketeers made it a point to speak Russia when together, even outside the classroom and the school.  They're amazing young women.

A beautiful, sunny day....and me with no sunscreen or hat, so I'm draping my scarf to protect my face from the sun.  I burn easily.

No safety drill on this vessel, though it would not have helped me, as it would have been in Russian.

Toasting their accomplishments with champagne.  Even I was allowed to imbibe, though my accomplishment was merely being there.

Apartment building along the canal.  I was told that unprepossessing exteriors often belie what's inside.  In Russia, one cannot judge a book by its cover.

Momentarily, I was transported to Europe, which was Peter's intent.

I love seeing her so happy.

Oooohhhhh......under a bridge.

Trinity Cathedral

Although it is much more obvious in a photo, it took me some moments to realize that this building has a 'skin' while the building is being renovated.  Such a clever idea!

Monument to Nikolai I...Both St. Petersburg and Moscow are replete with monuments, many of them with famous men on horseback.  I think Chantal knew all of them!

Peaceful

Each student in the language program also had a tutor.  Olga, in the striped shirt, was a very-well liked and respected tutor, so the three mouseketeers had a small gift of chocolates, and a bottle each of hard apple cider and hard pear cider.  After the canal cruise, we ambled over to the Field of Mars, a large park in St. Petersburg.  I was overdressed for the warm, beautiful day, though found it delightful to be with these young women.  I also had only a sip of the hard stuff, though both were delicious.  And Russia  chocolate...to die for!!   Olga lives in a room within an apartment.  The room was bought by her grandparents, and can be handed down as property just as we would leave a house to our own children.

Will check with Chantal for the name of this sobor.

Decoration on a bridge which we went under on the canal.

I think that's the Church on the Spilled Blood in the distance.  It seems to be everywhere!  Notice that ON spilled blood.  We didn't explore it, but honestly, I can tour only so many churches....

Taking in the sun, a welcome reprieve after a long, cold, dark winter. 

My hotel room was on the fourth floor, so I walked down the stairs rather than taking the lift.  A bit of green on the landing.

Yes, I'm in Russia......

Yes, it's a MALL!!!!  I needed lighter weight tops, so Chantal walked me to the mall, gave me a lesson in exchange rates, which I wrote down, then joined her friends elsewhere.  

The box of the Tsars at the Mariinsky Theater, where I will soon be enthralled by a stunning performance of Swan Lake.

A side box at the Mariinsky.

Lushly gold and ornate....the theater, not me.

Not a ballerina..... though lovely.

Orchestra pit.

As with American theater-goers, Russian dress runs the gamut from jeans to beautiful evening gowns. 

In Russia, it is acceptable to take even flash photographs during the performance, although I was both too intimated by my surroundings and too engaged in the performance to do so.

Chantal had gotten us center seats, third row.  I resented even having to blink, lest I miss a spectacular jette or plie.  Had we been able to, I would have gone again...and again...even if we'd had to sit just under the roof.  Stunning, breathtaking, awesome.... I am without words.

Statue of the poet Nekrasov.  One of many statues in St. Petersburg (most of which Chantal identified).  I took the photo because the statue was near  Chantal's abode and my hotel.

Higher education.

Where Chantal studied in St. Petersburg.  It's right next to the set of buildings in the photo just above.

This photo is supposed to be below the next one, but it refuses to go there.  Somewhere in St. Pete is a statue of a rearing horse that balances only on its tail.  We thought it was this one, hence the photo...but obviously it isn't.

The Bronze Horseman, a monument to Peter the Great and inspiration for a poem by Pushkin.  Chantal reeled off all this information, off the top of her head, while I link to wikipedia to refresh my own memory.  She was a remarkable guide.

I was most a most frustrating tourist for Chantal, as I kept wandering away from history, trying to experience culture and people.  While she was pointing out the Bronze Horsesman, I was off trying to get a good photo of this bride.  Chantal was most disgusted with me, ignoring history for brides!! And, my wandering off gave her some cause for concern, as I knew no Russian and she felt responsible for me.  How strange to be 63 and in the hands of a 23 year old.  Yet I was.  And good hands they were.

And I wandered toward this very colorful play ground, again ignoring history.  I think I flunked Tourism 101!

Russia is far from user friendly for those with disabilities.  While this sign, overlaid with Braille, might seem to disprove that; unfortunately, it is behind a railing that is beyond the reach of any human being who isn't 7 feet tall.   Not useful at all.

Another church.  Lots of famous dead people buried there.  Ornate.  Gilded.

A peaceful scene within a courtyard, although I didn't see as many bicyclists as in Helsinki.

Art work at the end of fourth floor corridor at my hotel.  Which Lennon/Lenin is it?

Couldn't resist, though we refused to eat there.  However, we used the Mickey D bathrooms in Moscow.  I'm not too proud for that!!!!

Can you sound out the letters?

The Hermitage is truly fabulous....and huge.  It is famous for its collection of Impression paintings, which I didn't want to spend time viewing, as I've seen similar art and can do so again.  I wanted to see what I'd not be able to see again, including the Throne Room created for Tsar Nicholas I.  A bit overdone for my tastes, but then, so are most palaces, and the Hermitage is the Winter Palace of the Romanovs.  I wanted to see the rooms in which the royal family actually lived, but there were only two that were open, and they were...overdone.  I have few photos since that required a photo ticket, so this photo and any others in the Hermitage are....illegal.

View across the square of the statue on top of the Imperial General Staff Building.  I'm sure this aggregation of figures, Romans with horses and some winged personage,  represents battle, war, victory for us, defeat of them....

The building on which the above figures rest, across the square from the Hermitage.  Note the tour buses.  That's about the only way that non-Russian speakers can see Russia.  I was a very, very fortunate exception, as I had my personal, native speaking tour guide with me.

Wandering through the Hermitage, even with a map, was...confounding.  I would push Chantal to ask directions from one of the room guards, which she would eventually do after I threatened to ask myself which she definitely did not want me to do, as it would engender extreme embarrassment for her if it became apparent we were...foreign tourists...although, honestly, I look exactly like a retired American school teacher.   Anyway, I heard wonderful voices lilting through the museum so followed my nose....err, ears to this a capella sextet.  Apparently, groups are allowed to perform in certain public places and to sell their CDs.  We saw another such group in a church in Moscow.  Now, back to what I saw at the Hermitage.

Intricately inlaid floors, with no two patterns alike.  Chantal about had a heart attack while simultaneously dying of mortification when I squatted down to run my fingers over several to determine texture.  In addition to drawing attention to myself (a definite nono, Russians don't touch the floor or street with their hands.) She was much happier when we headed to the basement so that I could look at the prehistoric exhibits....until she had to translate the exhibit information.  Her Russian is excellent, but upon occasion and not surprisingly, specialized vocabulary can challenge even the best.  Mummified horse, burial barrens, and ancient carpets did not defeat her, though she was tired upon departure.  The basement lacked the beautiful floors of the more popular upper floors, but we spent a happy afternoon poking around.

Fresh food is one of the delights of Russia.  This delicious salad awaited us at my hotel.  Tomorrow we take an early train to Moscow.

Helsinki High Point

Before I get on the train to St. Petersburg, a few more words about Helsinki.  My stay there, though I accomplished almost nothing I'd intended, was delightful.  When I returned after my Russian sojourn, I experienced the high point of being in this very pleasant city:  Hannah.  I'd "met" her on an online board I've frequented for several years, and somehow discovered she's Finnish.  I emailed her to ask for suggestions, and if we could get together.   O my goodness, what an enjoyable visit I had with her, over  Finnish beer that I would have risked smuggling home.  And she, in a generous gesture of hospitality, gifted me with two packages of chocolate, which I am even now doling out, sparingly, only to myself.  So Hannah, thank you for everything!  Now farewell to Helsinki....

Back in the day, getting from one place in the former Yugoslavia to another was a matter of going down to the bus station in whichever small village in which we found ourselves and asking around until someone said that he thought the bus to next small village left at suchandsuch a time, but it wouldn't leave if the driver didn't think it contained suffiicient passengers to make the trip worth his while.  And if we wanted to go to large town on the other side of next small village, we had to first go to next small village, and catch another bus to large town....maybe that day...maybe the next.  No such thing as a long distance Greyhound going from Riejka to Zadar...not that we would have chosen something so crass, as we wanted to be in the villages and travel locally.  Not so in my AARP years.  I wanted fast and clean....and a prepaid ticket bought from America from the VR/Allegro web site, paid for with my Amex card and printed on my own little printer.  Moving into my senior years isn't all about arthritis and memory loss.... Now where was I???

And that's what I got!  Except the seat faced backwards and I discovered that riding backwards is....unpleasant.  Fortunately, empty seats were available, so after official formalities, I moved.  Many thanks to the retired home economics teacher from Finland who took this photo.  She and several friends were on a tour to St. Petersburg.  In fact, her mother had been born in a part of Finland that is now part of Russia.   Tours run frequently between Helsinki and St. Petersburg, and if three days or less, do not require a Russian visa.  Speaking of which, I do need to explain the wretchedly expensive process of obtaining the required Russian visa....

More Helsinki

The whole of Finland is about the size of the legal population of St. Petersburg, Russia, about 5 million folks.  Helsinki has about 600,000 of those folks.  Finns are considered reticent, but everyone with whom I interacted was most gracious.  I always (well almost always) ask before taking a photo of a human being.

Ok, After just saying that I asked photo permission, I confess that I did not ask this woman.  She just looked so relaxed and immersed in her book, that I did not want to disturb her.  She, as with so many of her compatriots, was out enjoying the beautiful weather, the newly green grass, the smiling flowers.....It was quite pleasant, indeed.

I have no idea if this building is historical; I'm just partial to austerely lovely brick buildings.....

With golden turrets....

If you look at a map of Helsinki (to which I have very helpfully provided a link), you'll see that the city is surrounded by the waters of the Gulf of Finland.  And in what I consider an amazing stroke of luck, I was within walking distance of that lovely water.

Me attempting to be artsy, with the corner of the red brick building and the old-fashioned sailing vessel. 

So many wonderful old buildings that had been restored/repurposed.

On the terrace of the Uspenski Cathedral.  It was too beautiful a day to go inside, so I continued walking.

I love this juxtaposition of the old and new. The newer vessel goes to Tallinn, Estonia, a trip I would have liked to have taken. 

From the Cathedral down to an outdoor market, selling the most wonderfully-looking berries....and dried fish and four-legged critters.  I considered buying dried elk or moose or some such critter at the Duty-Free shop at the airport, but it was only legal to carry to EU countries; it was too expensive for me to be caught with, and I didn't want it badly enough to lie to Customs.  However, for vodka.....

What a nice day to be riding a bicycle.  And there are marked bicycle lanes, next to pedestrian paths.  So civilized!

About twice the size of Tobey, a rat terrier, I'm guessing.  And yes, this time I did ask permission.

Completely uninterested in anything but being outside.  Given the amount of snow, I'm relieved to be here at this lovely time of year....And I can understand why Fido is loving the grass!

Barnacle goose -- This population summers here and winters in Amsterdam.  It's so much easier since Finland went on the euro a decade ago.

I'm assuming these are lifeboats, as they are dotted around the edge of the water.

Young love...

Many play areas around the city...

I did not take binoculars, as I had some concern that they might land me accommodations next to Pussy Riot....  Therefore, my birdwatching was minimalist, but I couldn't resist this nest.

Permission asked, and she was delighted to let her dog be the star...

These smallish terriers seemed to be quite popular, although Helsinki folks have many, many dogs of all shapes and sizes.  And Helsinkians are good about picking up poop.

Vessel 1off to frolic in the bay...

Vessel 2 leaving for Stockholm...

Me enjoying Helsinki....

And the classical artsy photo of past and present....

JET LAG.....THE EVIL, THE EVIL!!!!

As I mentioned earlier, I don't deal well with jet lag.  It is evil.  It is mine sworn enemy.  And yes, I know all the things one is supposed to do to overcome/compensate for jet lag, the most basic being to keep going when one arrives at the destination, rather than going to bed.

Try telling that to my body.  Believe me, I've tried, and my body just writhes with evil laughter, until I put it into a supine position.  Which is what I did upon arrival in Helsinki around noonish, that time.

I awoke around 5, took a long walk, and discovered that the Eurohostel is in a wonderful location, near the water, and just marvelously pleasant for walking.

After about an hour, I returned, ate that delicious salmon dinner, read for awhile, then off to the land of Nod......

To wake up the following afternoon around 3 pm.  While I didn't have big plans for the day, I had at least planned to get up.  Obviously, my body had laughed so hard at the notion, that it had worn itself out.

Oh well.  Consider all that money I was "saving while sleeping."

Helsinki, Finland

Leaving Amsterdam a very tired puppy, it was a short hop to Helsinki, and a pretty cab ride from the airport to the Eurohostel.  Helsinki is clean, clean, clean.  No poverty.  No homeless people.  Good public transportation.  There's something to be said for evil socialism.  The Eurohostel looked like any other newish building, and it, too, was clean, clean, clean.

The sign above the flower box says "Save money while sleeping."  Trust me, I saved a lot of money, because I slept a lot!  More on that .....

View from the window at the end of the hall.  Spring was just arriving.

View from the window of my room.  A Viking cruise ship which plied between Helsinki and Stockholm

Dining room and bar.  The first night, I had salmon and vegetables, and it was delicious.  Washed it down with an excellent Finnish beer.  Many of those who stayed here used the kitchen facilities for their dinner meal, though many came down for breakfast.  My only nit with the breakfast was mediocre coffee.  Fortunately, I'd found a place just around the corner, owned by an Italian man married to a Finnish woman, with superb coffee, so I could have my necessary fix.

Hallway with the door to my room on the right.  A bit institutional, but I wasn't paying for the Ritz.

Had I shared this room, the rate would have been less, but I paid for a single.  It's clean, sparse, and surprisingly comfortable.  There are two closets just out of view, one for each inhabitant.  Blackout curtains were definitely useful, as it is light almost all the time at this time of year, what is called "White Nights."  More on that later.

Bedding and beds were European/Ikea style, with a platform mattress, a bottom sheet, and a duvet cover which went over the comforter under the blue spread.  Obviously, some DIY involved, but it ain't the Marriott!  And a towel and pillowcase. The bed was quite comfy; I should know, as I spent far more time in it that I'd planned on.....

Heading Out

Dumping the canines with my ever-patient mother, I headed to Atlanta where cousins John, Kathy, and son Alexander wined and dined me.  After a good night's sleep, John drove me to the new international terminal in Atlanta where I hopped aboard.

Notice the smile, the lightness, the looking-forward-to-the-eight-hour-flight-to-Amsterdam foolish look?  Silly me.

Arrival in Amsterdam.  After the eight hour flight, I certainly needed first aid, a lounge, a spa, a comfort seat, and meditation (in a comfortable bed).  Anyone wish to guess which option I chose?  Yes, it was Door #3, the Airport Spa, where I had a massage delivered by Olga who trained at the prison guard school of massage; I think I still have bruises.  I dragged myself through a long amoeba semblance of a line for customs or immigration or some such nonsense, where I was asked the question that all such officials asked me "Are you traveling alone?" as if a woman of my age must certainly have a young companion to keep me from wandering astray....  Although I do acknowledge that after a 4 hour layover in Amsterdam and a 3 hour flight to Helsinki, I felt like....

Granted, this isn't me, but it's how I felt.  Unfortunately, even from my earliest ventures across different time zones, when I was youthful, energetic, jet lag has bested me.  This trip was no different.

From Russia, With......

Granted, beginning this post about my trip to the former Soviet Union, now the Russian Federation, with photos of...toilets....seems unpromising, but stay with me.  Back in the day, oh, about 40 some years ago,  I first went to Europe and Greece.  Way, way before the Euro, which, while it makes traveling simpler, is not nearly so colorful as drachmas and marks and francs.  But back to...toilets...and toilet paper.

European toilets back then tended to be about as clean as those in rural US service stations, those often grimy, smelly places tucked away on the side of the station, where we were lucky if they were kept locked so as to deter the local vagrants.  Except for the squat toilets in Greece...but never mind.  Toilet paper was another story altogether.  It was the texture and absorbency of either wax paper or sand paper.  And, in Moscow, it was .... red.  Seriously.  I was going to bring back a square, but we used it.  Probably for the best.

Unfortunately,  Russian and Finnish tp isn't much better, though the Finnish version slightly edges out the Russian variety, which might explain why most Russians seem to have a rather sour look on their faces:  They need Mr Whipple.  

Regardless of the quality of the toilet paper, I did appreciate several of the bathrooms, an appreciation which I will now share with you, my dear readers.

I flew into Helsinki, Finland, and stayed in a Eurohostel, where I shared a bathroom.  Helsinki is a very expensive city, and I figured the Eurohostel would be clean, which it was...very.   Walking into the outer area triggered a recording of chirping birds and the lights.  Although I do wish it had been tiled in blue, it was rather pleasant.  Now on to a restaurant in St. Petersburg.

Georgian food is delicious, filling, and relatively inexpensive.  The restaurant in St. Petersburg, where we ate twice, had five little toilet rooms, and an outer area with additional sinks.  Each little room had both sturdy paper towels and individual cloth towels.  I followed another woman in, as, without graphics, I was lost in the Cyrillic alphabet.  As you can see, the completely enclosed little room is nicely decorated, and I certainly appreciated the privacy, because, as I left, I encountered a man:  a unisex bathroom.