I thought I knew Russians.
I thought I knew Russia.
I now know I was wrong.
I didn't know Saint P, man.
Saint P was the place that made me realize that I've been in the redneck country of Russia for the better part of 5 years. Saint P-gians were the ones who made me realize that Russians CAN be pleasant. Saint P is where I left my heart.
I'm usually very cool and aloof when it comes to traveling. I don't gawk. I don't stare. I show as little shock and awe as possible. I try to blend in as much as possible.
In Saint P, I was in full tourist mode. I mean really, it's cranked up till 11. Hell, on the way to the Metro station where my guides were waiting for me, I took pictures from the bus! And the conductor was so nice, I doubted she was Russian!
Day 1:
My love affair with Saint P began with her enticing main avenue, Nevskii Prospekt. She whispered a little secret into my lustful ears for every step I took. Every statue I saw cemented the subtle obsession that builds up slowly but surely. And there was no shortage of that. Everywhere I turned, I saw a beauty of the builders' toil, of the sculptors' loving hands, of the ghosts set in stones. I can only imagine what sort of spirits walked here. Here, on this very road, Pushkin wandered, giving the finishing touch to a love poem. There, I saw Lomonosov bumping into others, apologizing mindlessly as he worked on his latest theory. And through it all, the royal processions of Peter and Catherine marched and proclaimed the greatness of the monarchs.
We walked and talked and laughed and drank in each other, Saint P and I on that day, only such as new lovers could. The perfect day was ended with the witnessing of a ballet, Swan Lake. Ah, such an experience can't be described neither through words nor through paintings. One has to go through it oneself to truly appreciate it.
Day 2:
The second day of our program began with the tour of the Kuntskamera. It is here that the Great Peter the First collected medical oddities and cultural trinkets from around the world. Honestly, it was pretty disappointing. The culture displayed were nothing new to a person who has spent some moments on the Discovery and National Geographic channels. The medical oddities, on the other hand, would have a great effect on someone who never had the opportunity to browse through the classrooms and museums of Volgograd State Medical University's Anatomy, Histology and Pathological Anatomy departments.
Then, we ascended the ancient winding steps of Isaakaevskii Cathedral. From up there, we could see the whole of Saint P, naked before our very eyes. We saw her blemishes, her scars unveiled. We saw her beauty, her brilliance unhindered. To say the view was breathtaking is to be insulting to the memory of that day. I remember that the climb was exerting but, at the same time, worth every gasping breath.
Not enough with that, our geographically blind planner decided to wrestle my very last breath with the Hermitage, the winter palace of the tsars. It wasn't much of a battle, honestly. Being true to the concept of a palace, there are ballrooms and a throne room and sitting rooms that shouts majesty into one's eyes but these weren't the major attraction to me. No. The Hermitage is also home to thousands of paintings and sculptures. My seeing orbs feasted on Michaelangelo and da Vinci and Rubens and Raphael; molested every inch of the Rape of Europa, the Crucifixion of St John, the Adoration of the Baby Jesus; ogled at every dimension of L'amour et Psyche, the Three Graces and Bachus and the Satyr. Four hours we were there. We covered so much less than a quarter.
Day 3:
We went to only one place on this day. The summer palace. Petergof. When I walked in the main gate, my jaw literally dropped. I was in awe. The fountains and the palace itself and the chapel with the golden domes were awesome in the truest sense of the word. My guides laughed at me. We haven't even began uncovering the beauty of Peterdvorets. There must have been at least 20 different fountains with 20 different themes on that royal retreat. The majestic Samson fountain, the quirky Sun, the Adam and Eve... all of these and more litter the palace's park. In the middle of it all, there's a canal leading to the sea.
Day 4:
Day 4 was rather uneventful. We woke up late. Very late. We went to the souvenir market, doing some very touristy shopping. Later that day, we went to Peter and Paul's Fort, a barricade never used in battle but rather was used as a political prison, instead. On this island-fort the remains of the royal families were laid to rest, including the last royal family of Tsar Nikolai the Second. It is in this very fort also that Peter, the same Great Peter, tortured his son to death, reportedly for criticizing the father's europeanization of Russia and the subsequent rape of its culture.
And thus ended my Great Saint P Fling. As I've told many, I left my heart there, hoping for the opportunity to return and see if I could reclaim it some day.
I would like to use this opportunity to commend and extend my gratitude to my graceful hosts. Never have I seen in Russia four friends more comfortable and natural. And to make matters worse, they were all talented in the arts. I envy them. I couldn't find one person that share the same interests, who is comfortable around me in 500 Malaysians in Volgograd. The four found three each in a group of 12 Malaysian students. Tell me, isn't my envy just?
Disclaimer:Most of the pics here are courtesy of Vitamin050
I thought I knew Russia.
I now know I was wrong.
I didn't know Saint P, man.
Saint P was the place that made me realize that I've been in the redneck country of Russia for the better part of 5 years. Saint P-gians were the ones who made me realize that Russians CAN be pleasant. Saint P is where I left my heart.
I'm usually very cool and aloof when it comes to traveling. I don't gawk. I don't stare. I show as little shock and awe as possible. I try to blend in as much as possible.
In Saint P, I was in full tourist mode. I mean really, it's cranked up till 11. Hell, on the way to the Metro station where my guides were waiting for me, I took pictures from the bus! And the conductor was so nice, I doubted she was Russian!
Day 1:
My love affair with Saint P began with her enticing main avenue, Nevskii Prospekt. She whispered a little secret into my lustful ears for every step I took. Every statue I saw cemented the subtle obsession that builds up slowly but surely. And there was no shortage of that. Everywhere I turned, I saw a beauty of the builders' toil, of the sculptors' loving hands, of the ghosts set in stones. I can only imagine what sort of spirits walked here. Here, on this very road, Pushkin wandered, giving the finishing touch to a love poem. There, I saw Lomonosov bumping into others, apologizing mindlessly as he worked on his latest theory. And through it all, the royal processions of Peter and Catherine marched and proclaimed the greatness of the monarchs.
We walked and talked and laughed and drank in each other, Saint P and I on that day, only such as new lovers could. The perfect day was ended with the witnessing of a ballet, Swan Lake. Ah, such an experience can't be described neither through words nor through paintings. One has to go through it oneself to truly appreciate it.
Day 2:
The second day of our program began with the tour of the Kuntskamera. It is here that the Great Peter the First collected medical oddities and cultural trinkets from around the world. Honestly, it was pretty disappointing. The culture displayed were nothing new to a person who has spent some moments on the Discovery and National Geographic channels. The medical oddities, on the other hand, would have a great effect on someone who never had the opportunity to browse through the classrooms and museums of Volgograd State Medical University's Anatomy, Histology and Pathological Anatomy departments.
Then, we ascended the ancient winding steps of Isaakaevskii Cathedral. From up there, we could see the whole of Saint P, naked before our very eyes. We saw her blemishes, her scars unveiled. We saw her beauty, her brilliance unhindered. To say the view was breathtaking is to be insulting to the memory of that day. I remember that the climb was exerting but, at the same time, worth every gasping breath.
Not enough with that, our geographically blind planner decided to wrestle my very last breath with the Hermitage, the winter palace of the tsars. It wasn't much of a battle, honestly. Being true to the concept of a palace, there are ballrooms and a throne room and sitting rooms that shouts majesty into one's eyes but these weren't the major attraction to me. No. The Hermitage is also home to thousands of paintings and sculptures. My seeing orbs feasted on Michaelangelo and da Vinci and Rubens and Raphael; molested every inch of the Rape of Europa, the Crucifixion of St John, the Adoration of the Baby Jesus; ogled at every dimension of L'amour et Psyche, the Three Graces and Bachus and the Satyr. Four hours we were there. We covered so much less than a quarter.
Day 3:
We went to only one place on this day. The summer palace. Petergof. When I walked in the main gate, my jaw literally dropped. I was in awe. The fountains and the palace itself and the chapel with the golden domes were awesome in the truest sense of the word. My guides laughed at me. We haven't even began uncovering the beauty of Peterdvorets. There must have been at least 20 different fountains with 20 different themes on that royal retreat. The majestic Samson fountain, the quirky Sun, the Adam and Eve... all of these and more litter the palace's park. In the middle of it all, there's a canal leading to the sea.
Day 4:
Day 4 was rather uneventful. We woke up late. Very late. We went to the souvenir market, doing some very touristy shopping. Later that day, we went to Peter and Paul's Fort, a barricade never used in battle but rather was used as a political prison, instead. On this island-fort the remains of the royal families were laid to rest, including the last royal family of Tsar Nikolai the Second. It is in this very fort also that Peter, the same Great Peter, tortured his son to death, reportedly for criticizing the father's europeanization of Russia and the subsequent rape of its culture.
And thus ended my Great Saint P Fling. As I've told many, I left my heart there, hoping for the opportunity to return and see if I could reclaim it some day.
I would like to use this opportunity to commend and extend my gratitude to my graceful hosts. Never have I seen in Russia four friends more comfortable and natural. And to make matters worse, they were all talented in the arts. I envy them. I couldn't find one person that share the same interests, who is comfortable around me in 500 Malaysians in Volgograd. The four found three each in a group of 12 Malaysian students. Tell me, isn't my envy just?
Disclaimer:Most of the pics here are courtesy of Vitamin050
5 comments:
the second picture. i'd die to be the one who took it.
Oh believe me when I say there's a lot more great pics like that. I greatly envy the photographer's skill and talent. Check out his flickr on the link I gave below.
yes i checked it out and added him =)
Good for you
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