Cultural grind
All I can recall of Tuesday through to mid afternoon is lying of my top bunk wishing the world would stop trying to force its way into my head in quite so insistent a manner. With a pressing list of cultural sights to be seen in a city that was already making a very strong case to be included in a favourites list this was no occasion to sit at home and feel sorry for myself. So when Rdoc and Arny had returned from lunch we ventured out into the, hopefully unseasonably, cold.
The worked out route took us past many of the types of things only empires of a certain size seem to bother with; fields named after Roman gods of war, eternal flames, statues of men on horses, bridges named for battles, redundant numbers of palaces and the displays of relentless modernisation by slapping advertising all over the baroque and neoclassical frontages. Not to forget parked warships from defining moments of imperial decline being joyfully explored and photographed by the populace of the victors of said war. Walled fortresses with cathedrals containing 300 years of dead emperors and a nice pair of rostral columns with representation of the four great rivers that shaped and sustained the country, three of which we were to travel on.
With the after effects of the previous night still a concern it was a quiet night spent cooking tea and hanging out with the now quite sizable group of nice people at Cuba. This now included a couple from Australia, a Canadian girl and her mother (we were very glad not to be in their room as snoring of a grossly invasive nature was reported coming from the latter), Emrah from Turkey (who had actually checked out but we still found him curled up on a couch each morning), and Mike from London who has a totally sweet 8 day on 8 day off roster letting him escape to interesting places every couple of weeks or so. The hostel is at a nice level of occupancy right at the minute maintaining that nice balance of not a sardine can or like Vanna Tom. Case in point is that there are only four working showers for a maximum capacity of eighty which could be interesting in the morning. Which leads onto a question, is it usual for detachable shower heads to not have a bracket to attach it to the wall with? You know, so you don’t have to be constantly holding it over your head throughout the whole process which can best be described as awkward.
Hanging in the Cuba, pretending to pack.
Only just into double digit days away and Rdoc is craving cereal as though it should normally be labeled with government warnings about its addictive properties, danger to pregnancies etc. Problem is a box of vile Kelloggs muesli is tiny and close to twice what it would cost back home. We compromise with a jar of Nutella which we then naively left with the rest of our food. I know exactly which bastard it would have been who went through half of it, sanctimonious German git. This self catered breakfast and utilising the well equipped kitchen for dinner left little opportunity to explore the culinary pleasures supposedly contained in the city. We limited ourselves even more by finding a great place first up and finding it very hard to resist going back, Cafe Zoom if you’re ever in the area. Tired of pasta I insisted we went out the next night and after some obligatory confused wanderings, it doesn’t help when the facade of nearly a whole block is being redone removing all numbers, signage, and the ability to look in windows, we found a cosy little Armenian place. I must say that this hearty food is growing on me, not usually one of those who takes a photo of everything I eat I will let this one speak for me.
Yum!
Wednesday morning, with the afternoon bracketed, had been set aside for the most important cultural institution of them all. On our wanderings yesterday I had insisted on a detour in order to preserve the moment of walking into Palace Square to make sure no glimpses would detract from the designed entrance. Excited, we walked up Nevsky Pr, took a right onto Bolshaya Morskaya ul. and followed the curve of this small street under the Triumphal Arch which plays viewfinder across the giant square, past the Alexander column to Rastrelli’s sprawling symbol of imperial Piter. Like everything in these sorts of situations there are lots of worlds biggest, tallest, etc but the main shaft of the column itself is very cool being a single piece of red granite 25m long but so well fitted that only gravity keeps it in place which you remind yourself of as you look up to the angel’s cross 45m above your head. Behind you is an unassumingly remarkable architechtural feat. How do you fill nearly 600m of square border when one side is plenty grand enough? With a gentle bow shape in the Empire style of course. You may be able to tell that I was suitably impressed.
Out of the three of us I was the only one without a student ID which, while not a disaster as such, was something that needed to be remedied. An example of the benefits of one was that the savings on this one mornings activities would be the equivalent of six bottles of mid-range vodka. For some reason Richard was still carrying his two years expired Canterbury card and had been looked after with an ISIC card even though he had been graduated for this time. A few minutes in the morning with some sellotape and a passport photo and I was ready to try my luck being Richard Flett. The ticketing arrangement they have for The Hermitage is ridiculous with only one window being immediately obvious and so a huge line forms filled out with lots of horrible tour groups who have to go to this particular counter. This mass of people effectively blocks everyone else from even seeing whether there might be other option which thankfully we had been informed there were. I am fairly certain that the success of my newly aquired student status was due to the slightly better mood the ladies on these two counters were in due to them being so lightly used.
An Improved Identity.
It is probably impossible to give any sort of accurate representation to how amazing the Hermitage is as both an art museum, architecturally, and as a site of so much history. Having been to the Louvre, London’s National Gallery, Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, MoMA, the Met, and the Smithsonian the thought is that maybe if you combined all of them they would start to approach this place. Unfortunately for the other two I was determinded to explore all of it, a desire they tolerated patiently until the third floor when enough evading of tour groups was enough. From our arrival at Cuba hostel there had been four orange silhouettes of cross legged people on the blue and green walls. A fun discovery was that what was being produced there was a stencil facsimile of Matisse’s La Musique. On talking to the artist as he was putting the finishing touches on a couple of nights later this was the exact intention, that “oh” moment on walking into the Matisse room. Other highlights were the portrait room filled with the generals of the Napoleonic war. The room where the Csarist ministers were interred during October Revolution. A wedding party getting their photos done right in the middle of Japanese tour groups. Managing to stay ahead of said groups in and around the da Vincis and Rembrandts. Rembrandt’s Prodigal Son, a whole lot of Rubens, some Kandinsky, a couple of important Titians, a whole hall for Raphael, and on and on.
Imperial Guess Who.
Needing some fresh air we set out across the Admiralty Gardens in the direction of the Bronze Horseman, St Isaac’s Cathedral and the Mariinsky Theatre. Set atop the largest single rock moved by man, the awesomely named Thunder Stone, sits Peter the Great on a horse pointing out across the Neva to the west that was the inspiration for the city bearing his name. And because this is a statue in Russia it is surrounded by weddings, where are they all coming from? It is understandable why you would want this particular statue behind you on your special day because as the symbol of the city the legend says that while it stands the city will never fall, proven most recently during the Siege of Leningrad where not even 900 days of German bombing could bring it down.
Tags: architecture, art, food, hostel life, museum, Russia, St Petersburg
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