I love Piter

St. Petersburg, Russia

St. Petersburg, or Piter as locals lovingly call it, is an exciting place to start a tour of Russia. There's a huge amount of impressions to gather and sometimes one pushes the other out.
The city itself is grand. Even far out of the centre streets are lined with imposing structures with turrets and pillars and iron sculptures. Sadly, a lot of the non-famous ones have started decaying. There are so many palaces that today many are just blocks of flats or offices with dark stair wells and gaping tunnels leading to shady backyards. I think if one day all this was renovated St. Petersburg would be a city of such grandeur that it would easily eclipse cities like Paris or Venice.
For reasons I detailed in this previous post I tried to be a bit selective about which attractions to enter. The Hermitage is well worth it. The Red and Gold Rooms are magnificent and the art collection from ancient Greece and Rome to 19th century is huge and comprehensive. Disappointingly, the Russian masters are found in a different museum and they closed before I could find the German section.
Peterpavlovsky Fortress I liked a lot - not so much the structure itself as the island in the Neva river from where it dominates the river. You get a great view of the opposite waterfront with the Admirality and the Hermitage. One evening they were performing choral singing here, so I stayed to listen. It spread a very sombre mood over the wind swept, darkening beach and reflected off the massive walls. I ended up sitting there long after the singing had stopped admiring the sunset. I took a photo for a very giddy young couple. I wonder why they were so happy.
The most interesting encounter by far was at the Ethnographic Museum. I wanted to learn a bit about Russian culture and ended up learning a lot more. In the Ukraine section I encountered a group of girls, art students painting the colourful national costumes. From the first time I dodged past their view one of them kept looking at me. They quietly giggled. When I tried to comment that I liked their work they didn't understand but a matron-like museum "guard" came over and started translating in broken English. She introduced me - interestingly she only ever introduced to me the girl that had been looking over, her name was Anya. She spoke neither English nor German but was very cute about it. Another girl, I was told, spoke some German but was too shy to try it. Then the matron asked if I had been to the Russian hall. Had I? Err ... Then she picked Anya and obviously told her to give me a tour. This produced a lot more giggling and the cutest of blushes. Off we went. For the next half hour or so we went through the Russian collection, talked at more than to each other communicating mainly through gestures and common words like "yes" and "no". She was from Rostov, art student of two years, here on a ten day practical trip. Had she painted this costume? No, but this and this one. She was proud to show me. I didn't want to keep her for too long since she was here to work and I said so. This is where the confusion started. She asked another matron to translate. This lady seemed even more eager to pair us up. What did I want from Anya, she urged. Did I want to go out with her? Did I want her phone number? Well .... That put me off a bit. Yes, the girl was very cute but I didn't want to seem like this was my only intention. I didn't want anything. Nothing, she translated (I think). That seemed to produce the wrong reaction. Gah! Wrong bloody emphasis! After a lot of other misunderstandings I let Anya return to her work. At least that was the right thing to do. The first matron appeared again and made her write down her phone number for me. More giggling, more blushing. The matron reminded me that Anya would have to work until 4 pm. Then I said goodbye. I found the situation so awkward that I didn't dare to go back until it was too late. "Girl bye-bye", the matron told me with an air of genuine disappointment. They really seemed to think I should have asked Anya out - on the most difficult date of our lives. I never did call her in the end. It would have been awkward with a translator on the phone. To this moment I wonder what was going on. Was she interested in meeting me or did she just go because the matron told her. Were the matrons trying to pair us up? Did they know something I didn't because of the language barrier? Should I have asked her out? Chestnuts, preciousss, chestnuts!
Update: Much later I was asked if I had ever had to rely on body language alone to communicate. Would have been interesting to try with Anya. Oh, well.
"Geschichten, die das Leben so schreibt", said Christian, a German guy I had met at the hostel warning me it was merely a phrase. He was in St. Petersburg for a language course. Very nice, generous chap. "Als Deutscher bist du hier der Chef", he also told me referring to meeting girls. As a German you're the boss here. He claims they really love German guys. I never managed to put it to the test.
I shared a room with him and a Finnish guy called Johani, who was also there for a language course. He had started a bold project. He wrote endless name cards in Russian with the intent to hand them to pretty girls on the metro. We dared him to try it saying it would never work. This method had never occurred to me. In the end, I think, the idea is so crazy and unusual that it might just work. When I finally got on the train to Moscow Johani saw me off. He hadn't handed out any cards yet but said he had to start immediately. He could possibly leave St. Petersburg without trying at least once. Best of luck, Johani. If it works I might give it a try next time. But watch out for their boyfriends.
So, as I leave for Moscow I take along a lot of fond memories of my first major stop and hope there will be many more to come.