Me: So...what I'm getting out of this is "Bring snacks and water."
Mike: Yes!
We destroyed the border record for the tour company, coming in at a teeny, tiny 1 hour 6 minutes. Whoo! Why is that? It's the first time the passport control officer has been a woman. Bitches get shit done. But why the big discrepancy on time between groups? Luck of the draw. Apparently there is only ever one passport control agent on duty for groups/buses. They won't pull from cars and they certainly wouldn't allow us into that line. And so, if a group rocks up and the passport control officer is at lunch? Tough. What really makes it take forever is if they actually do their job...which seems counter-intuitive, and yet. Apparently, if they were to be truly devoted to their job, it would take approximately 45-65 minutes per person. Per person. We already have the effing Visas in our passports at this point. That took weeks of processing and the most extensive application that I have ever filled out. Seriously. My employment application was less stringent. List every country that you have been to in the past 10 years, including entry and exit dates, place of stay, and reason for visiting. But luckily our chick took about 20 minutes on the first one and then assumed that the rest of us had our shit together as well. But poor Emilio! Our driver had to go through the wringer to get the coach into Russia. And, as his name suggests, he is Italian, so just imagine two non-native English speakers attempting to communicate about whatever is in the huge stack of 50-some odd forms about the bus and who owns it and whether the licenses are up to date and how much fuel we are allowed to take out of the country...ugh. Good thing Emilio is a rockstar.
And then we got into Russia and the speed limit on the highway was 40 kph. That's kilometers. For my American audience (as I presume you are not reading this while driving and cannot quickly check the speedometer for the conversion) that comes out to about 25 miles per hour. Shut the front door. Did I mention that Emilio is Italian?
But we made it. Eventually. St. Petersburg! And then vodka. Anna, our local guide for St. Petersburg, introduced the ladies to vodka and cherry juice. While it tastes like cough medicine, I oddly liked it. After dinner that night, we went to an Irish Pub. No one there spoke English, I had downloaded an app called WordLens, which allows you to scan text with your camera on your phone and then it translates it...offline, even..so that was a life saver.
So much vodka. So much vodka.
The next morning, Anna was at breakfast. They only had small glasses, so along with her bread and beets and coffee, she brought a cereal bowl. An empty cereal bowl. And then she poured vodka into it. she told us that in Russia, they have a saying about vodka: "Less than one liter:medicine. More than one liter: poison."
And then she told us all about the beginnings of Russia and the history of St. Petersburg and the czars and then we got out and took photos. And then more history and she joked "Russian history is so depressing! Have you noticed yet? Every story ends 'And then they died!' or 'And then they were poisoned!' or, like this story 'And then his father suspected that his son was plotting to kill him and so he had his son tortured and then murdered for treason and buried him under the stairs of the watchtower so that the constant steps and walking of the guards would make it so that he would never find rest in the afterlife.' Okay, let's go see the watchtower!"
She was funny and a complete delight! We saw soooo much cool stuff: The Heritage Museum, palaces, fountains, Dostoevsky's house, the Church of Spilled Blood, museums, Swan Lake, a river cruise, fabrige eggs. We went to a shop that specializes in fabrige eggs, and those Marushka dolls. I love how Russians shop, guys, They basically invite you into the shop with a free shot of vodka, some champagne, or some liqueur. And then they give you more. And more. And more. And there are snacks. And more vodka. And water is somewhere, but so is more vodka. And then, if you are like some of my tourmates, you have suddenly spent 150 Euros on a fabrige egg that is also a music box playing Swan Lake. Here are Anna and I rocking out the vodka table!
------If you want to hear a ridiculous and utterly embarrassing drunken tale that involves other people making asses of themselves, ask me! But beware. it is loooooong.---------
Novgorod was really interesting. Some good history there. It is tiny. We went drinking in a pirate ship on the river in old town. I got a sinus infection from the smoke machine, which legitimately went off in an enclosed space with no windows every 2 minutes. The smoke stopped clearing after about an hour. It was pretty gross.
Moscow. I almost died in Moscow multiple times. But it was so much fun!
More vodka.
We did a really cool subway tour, probably the highlight of the guided tours on Moscow. The subway stations in Moscow are predominately repurposed bomb shelters from WWII, and when they installed the subway system, the main stations were made into shrines of the glories of Mother Russia, the Bolsheviks, and Lenin by good ol' Stalin. These are the single most beautiful group of subway stations that I have ever seen. I mean, wow. Vaulted ceilings, gold leaf tiles, ginormous busts of Lenin, homages to the peasant and the worker, tributes to the dogs and other animals that worked alongside Russians in the fight for freedom. And Galena, our local guide, told us that these will all soon be taken down. As will the former KGB headquarters. And all of the statues of Lenin and Stalin throughout Russia. And there is talk of burying Lenin's body. Galena, who was a social studies teacher of 12-year-old children in the 1980's, remembers well the old days, and is afraid that she is seeing Russia move back to the way it once was. And there is nothing that the common Russians can do to stop it. Her perspective was incredibly interesting and eye-opening. I loved talking to her about her experiences and perspective and anticipation of things to come.
Mom---stop reading-----------------------------------------------------------------------------no, really.
We went out one night in Moscow. Behind the opera house there is a pedestrian street riddled with bars. Gotta love how even in Russia, you can rely on there being bars near the theaters! Us girls got all dolled up and we hit the town. No one warned us about how socially different it is in Russia. You see, women in Russia pride themselves on their physique, and can be seen wearing miniskirts and hooker heels even to take out the trash. The men, however, appear to just slop around in track suits....
So, here we are walking down the street and there is a lot of honking. I mean, a lot of honking, especially considering how little traffic there is. And then, waiting to cross at a red light, a stopped car honked and then the driver and passengers both gave me a big up-down followed by thumbs-up. Now, I don't mind a little positive reinforcement, but allow me to say that no matter what I am wearing and no matter what country nor situation I am in, leering is never taken as flattering.
Anyway! We went out. We had a good time. It was really easy to get back to the hotel because it was across the street from a pink palace right near a metro stop. And then I was mistaken for a hooker and invited into a van. That was incredibly awkward. Apparently only hookers wear black heels. That would have been nice to know...
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