Subtitled: The Big Day at the Hermitage that Almost Wasn’t
Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock or ignoring me altogether, you’re fully aware that the BIG day on this trip was today, the day I spent from open to close at the Hermitage Museum, the mother ship of all museums. (Technically it is second to the Louvre, but it has a few collections I’m interested in that even the Louvre can’t beat).
Katya (I confirmed her name is Katerina and now we’re on short-name terms, so it is Katya) was meant to pick me up at 10:00 a.m. We’d walk to the Hermitage in time to get there for the open at 10:30. Well riddle me this, I woke at 4:00, could not get back to sleep for the life of me. Kept checking the clock, 4:30, 5:00, 5:30. I expected the alarm to go off at 8:30, giving me a bit of a lie in this morning. Well, I woke and noticed it was abnormally bright in the room, rolled over and looked and it’s 9:26. Good glory and a whole bunch of expletives later (can’t blame the cat for not waking me or for not setting the alarm, he’s 4000+ miles away!), I took the world’s fastest shower, dried my hair and dressed all in about 17 minutes. I still had time for a bowl of cereal and a yogurt and ate a Poptart while waiting for Katya, who herself slept late and got here a little after 10:00. It would figure though, the one day I’d most been looking forward to and I was dumb enough not to set the alarm for it. I have already checked and double-checked while I type this and note that it is set for 7:30 tomorrow.
The Hermitage….good god, what is there to say. It far, far, far exceeded my expectations. I saw more than I thought I would, I liked more than I thought I would, the museum was better organized, had signs in English both to point visitors to the toilets and to explain each work of art. Katya gave a wonderful tour, but so many times I wanted to slow down or deviate. I started keeping a list of things I wanted to go back to and see again or see in slow motion. She covered just about everything, soup to nuts.
I don’t even know where to begin. The Titians were gorgeous, especially his Danae and Christ Carrying the Cross. There were two younger Raphaels, one Katya said was done on wood and transferred to canvas later. There were two Leonardos too, I mean damn, how many times do you get to see two at once? Then the Michelangelo, oh good lord, hurt me now, just sublime with the back and leg muscles just perfect. And just when you start to get the feeling that life can’t get any better than four Velazquez, three El Grecos and a exquisite Goya (and I don’t even like Goya!) you round the corner into “the Rembrandt room"...
And really, I should have had Katya warn me. I’d been anxious to see Rembrandt’s Danae ever since I saw the Sundance special Hermitageniks, one episode of which covered the tragic terrorism caused by a psycho who threw acid as this painting to get attention. Thanks to quick thinking conservators and the heavy hand of Rembrandt himself (he painted in such thick layers that his paintings are excessively heavy), they were able to repair most of the damage. This painting is just absolutely breathtaking, and it was sitting there the minute we rounded the corner into the room. I didn’t cry even though I thought I would but it was really just a moment of joy to see it. But to see 23 others? I was truly blessed. I think the others that really made an impression me were Flora and the Young Woman with Earrings. Rembrandt painted these using his wife and later lover as his models, and the care and warmth that he painted in them is palpable. His Holy Family, as simple and straightforward as it is (set in a traditional Dutch home-setting rather than a manger) is also something I will never forget. It was just amazing.
So at that point I felt like if it ended here, I’d be fine and happy. Then I stumbled on to a room of Canova sculptures and nearly lost my mind. There was The Kiss of Cupid and Psyche like in the Louvre but also Three Graces and an absolutely stellar Mary Magdalene. Seriously, with about 7 others, this was just heaven. I could not believe my luck.
Where this museum does fall a bit short is the Impressionist work. I felt the six Monets and four Van Goghs that are there were not necessarily the best. None of the Monets had his classical blurred view, they were much earlier before he got deep into waterlillies and painting things at different times of day. There were two Degas that I could fine, both ballet pastels. One was just gorgeous in orange, yellow and pinks. There was a fairly good assortment of Renoirs, the best of which was the Portrait of Jean Samary, and I told Katya the story of how Renoir was in love with her and tolerated her lack of commitment to the painting of the Boating Party.
Sharing a room with the Van Goghs were four Rodins. I’m certain at this point that I’d seen them all before: Age of Bronze, Eternal Spring, Poet and Muse (maybe not this one) and Cupid and Psyche. But how nice to see them with all the rest of this bounty!
There is more than just painting and sculpture to the museum. Katya took me through the State Rooms, stopping in the Malachite Room and the Throne Room, where later on I saw a bride and groom dancing for their wedding photos.
Also there was an exhibition of art looted by the Nazis. Well, they called it “Art from Private Collections” but Katya says now that the art is out, the Hermitage doesn’t want to give it back. Nice. But in this exhibit there were a fair number of Renoirs, Monets and VVGs there, but again, nothing that is terribly earth shattering. I think the best of the Impressionists is definitely either in Paris in the case of Monet and Renoir or Holland for Vincent.
So for food today…the speed demon breakfast for the alarm clock impaired. Lunch was at the museum and was just a ham and cheese on a roll with a cream puff tart with little berries on it. The cream was out of this world! I also had a strawberry flan somewhere around 4:30 to keep me going. This museum thing is hard work!
After dropping my shopping off back at the hotel, I went back out for dinner to a place called Fasol, down behind Kazan Cathedral. There I had potato pancakes with sour cream (basically they were like hash browns only not so greasy), beef stroganoff (the best so far, slightly spicy) and for dessert blini filled with cheese and topped with warm strawberries. I also had a sangria made with Russian red wine, which was good. All in, this cost 1080 rubles, with tip it would be 1200 so about $40. Very very reasonable, imho.
I stood around outside waiting for it get dark enough for the Church of Savior on Spilled Blood to be illuminated. Was it ever worth the wait. Just gorgeous!!!
Ok, really have to get to sleep now so I don’t oversleep yet again!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Blogging Day Two
Subtitled: Before Peter there were only icons, the root of understanding, that’s why I did this, understanding the icons, and what would you give Mama?
Truly, there is no sleep as good as the first sleep of jetlag. I laid down last night right when I logged off here and I remember nothing else until 5:00 a.m. when the bathroom called. I didn’t think I’d get back to sleep again, but I did, and slept right to the alarm at 7:30. When I woke up, I felt great, even though it was 11:30 p.m. to my body. Odd.
I still live in fear of the water here. Everyone I talked to and everything I read warned me that under no conditions should I drink the tap water, not even to brush teeth or in the shower to rinse whatever may be near my mouth. So taking a shower in the world’s smallest shower, holding my breath and not opening my mouth, is a challenge to say the least.
Breakfast this morning was included in my room rate. There was a fine assortment of food: corn flakes, porridge, Vienna sausages, meat and cheese, bread and yogurt. I had cereal, bread, yogurt and two Vienna sausages, just to say I tried them. Also two glasses of OJ, which tasted spectacular for some reason.
I met my guide in the lobby at 10. I believe her name is Katerina. I can’t for the life of me remember for sure. She is probably in her early 30s and like me (who as we know bid adieu to 30s recently), a single chick. This became more apparent later on. We went outside where HELL-O! Sergei the hottt driver from yesterday is back. See, I have no problem remembering the hottt driver’s name! Anyway, off we went on our city tour. I’m not sure what they expected me to do yesterday on my own, but they were surprised that I’d already covered as much ground as I did. So we blew by a lot of the sites I’d seen yesterday.
Our first big stop was at Peter and Paul fortress, which is like Tower of London, only smaller and has less to it. There’re some quarters for the staff and the cathedral and the national mint. The fortress is out on an island, but it was never actually used as a fortress. It was, however, a political prison. The cathedral is where the whole Romanov family is buried as well as all the tsars. It was sort of poignant to see the Romanovs there after having read the book about their last year and being so affected by it.
Next stop was to St. Isaac's Cathedral, the fourth largest in the world after Rome, London and Florence. This really was pretty and reminded me a lot of St. Paul’s in London. The iconostasis is all mosaics with malachite and lapis columns, just gorgeous. Apparently after the war, they removed a Foucaults pendulum which hung from the center of the dome and replaced it with a stained glass dove. Both here and in the cathedral in the fortress, there was a pulpit, which is not used in Russian orthodox churches because everyone, including the priest, worships at the same level. The reason why the pulpit was there in either place was because the architects were French or Italian.
When they were done showing me all of central St. P, I went on my own to Kazan Cathedral and the State Museum. The museum is all Russian art, and I have realized that before Peter the Great, it was all icons. Then when he came to power, he sent a bunch of artists to Italy and Holland, and they came back painting like artists we know elsewhere. There was one painting I’d seen around town on various signs and swore it was a Sargent. But instead it was an artist named Serov. I didn’t instantly recognize anything, which, coupled with the intense heat of this museum, made it hard to tolerate as the last visit on a jam-packed day.
The Kazan Cathedral experience was emotionally intense and I wasn't quite prepared for it. I have visited a Museum of Russian Icons at home, but even after that, I still couldn't quite grasp the whole icon thing. But this cathedral has Our Lady of Kazan up on the altar. When I walked in, the line in front of the icon was over 50 people long, and the faithful wait in line patiently, then climb the steps up, cross themselves three times, kiss the icon, say their prayers and just meditate. When they walked away it was a mixture of just complete sadness or weariness or relief. It was just something to see, that whatever they seemed to need from that icon, they were just so earnest in their attempts to get it. I'd never seen anything like that at home.
Oh, and ok, so we’re walking around both the cathedral at the fortress and St. Isaac’s and even on my own in the museum, and in each case, we’re just getting trampled by these tour groups. 25-30 people, all either getting yelled at by a guide at the top of her lungs, or roaming like drones following a colored umbrella from point A to point B as they listen to the guide over headphones from a point that perhaps they haven’t even made it to yet. They aren’t interacting, either with each other or with the guide. It was right then, or perhaps when I saw them all piling back on the bus to move to the next sight en masse, that I realized I made the right decision taking this trip the way I am. I get to talk to my guide, ask questions, take detours, take pee breaks...all when I need to, not the when the group or the guide of the group decides it is time. For me, that is worth the price of admission right there. Well, that and hottt Sergei.
So for food today, I had a great cheese pie (like cheesecake in pastry) for lunch at a small coffee bar that my guide found. Dinner tonight was a Georgian meal at Kavkaz Bar (Ul. Karavannaya 18). I had cheese bread (like pita fried with goat cheese in the middle), meat dumplings and tomato/onion salad with olive oil and some spicy red pepper.
My guide is really good about answering questions that I might not want to ask older people. So I dug into what it was like to be here when Communism fell, how things have changed, how she feels now about it. She told me that her mother used to wait in any line coming out of a shop because even if she didn’t know why people were waiting, it had to be good if there was a line. Her grandmother, on the other hand, would only wait if she knew what she was waiting for and knew that she wanted whatever it is.
Believe it or not she said there were some good things about it (everyone had free medical care and it was good, better than they have now, and it was incredibly safe and drug and crime free then too). But the one thing that struck me is that she said "we knew we lived on this planet, but we were not allowed beyond our borders. But then we never even thought about leaving or that it would ever be possible." She said since they've been allowed out, they go as much as they can. Her parents, who I assume are about my parents' age, go somewhere different every time because they are afraid that someday they'll not be let out again. We also talked a lot about figure skating (she was impressed that I can name every Russian back to Rodnina and Zaitsev in 1980!). We watched a wedding at a church we were in and commented on how the groom looked so much older and happier than the bride. She says that's not common and as it was such a small party, it was probably a shotgun wedding, which would explain why the mother looked pissed.
I did a bit of shopping today. The guide took me to an off the beaten path place where I found some matroyshka and a music box I wanted. And I finally found amber that I liked, and got a pendant for each of Abby, Mom and me.
I stopped in a liquor shop and had a mixed conversation in English and Russian with the old ladies about what the best vodka is. They pointed out several, one of which I saw in duty free the other day. I asked "what is your favorite?" The lady says "I drink it all, anything." Well, I guess I set myself up for that response. So I said "My mama said bring her the best vodka, what do you bring your mama?" and she went right to the top of the shelf. Cross your fingers it makes it home in my luggage. I bought it here because it was cheaper than duty free in Germany.
That's it for now. Early to bed tonight and a bit of a lie in tomorrow. We leave here at 10 a.m. for the Hermitage. I’m going to the mothership of art. Woooo hoooo!
Truly, there is no sleep as good as the first sleep of jetlag. I laid down last night right when I logged off here and I remember nothing else until 5:00 a.m. when the bathroom called. I didn’t think I’d get back to sleep again, but I did, and slept right to the alarm at 7:30. When I woke up, I felt great, even though it was 11:30 p.m. to my body. Odd.
I still live in fear of the water here. Everyone I talked to and everything I read warned me that under no conditions should I drink the tap water, not even to brush teeth or in the shower to rinse whatever may be near my mouth. So taking a shower in the world’s smallest shower, holding my breath and not opening my mouth, is a challenge to say the least.
Breakfast this morning was included in my room rate. There was a fine assortment of food: corn flakes, porridge, Vienna sausages, meat and cheese, bread and yogurt. I had cereal, bread, yogurt and two Vienna sausages, just to say I tried them. Also two glasses of OJ, which tasted spectacular for some reason.
I met my guide in the lobby at 10. I believe her name is Katerina. I can’t for the life of me remember for sure. She is probably in her early 30s and like me (who as we know bid adieu to 30s recently), a single chick. This became more apparent later on. We went outside where HELL-O! Sergei the hottt driver from yesterday is back. See, I have no problem remembering the hottt driver’s name! Anyway, off we went on our city tour. I’m not sure what they expected me to do yesterday on my own, but they were surprised that I’d already covered as much ground as I did. So we blew by a lot of the sites I’d seen yesterday.
Our first big stop was at Peter and Paul fortress, which is like Tower of London, only smaller and has less to it. There’re some quarters for the staff and the cathedral and the national mint. The fortress is out on an island, but it was never actually used as a fortress. It was, however, a political prison. The cathedral is where the whole Romanov family is buried as well as all the tsars. It was sort of poignant to see the Romanovs there after having read the book about their last year and being so affected by it.
Next stop was to St. Isaac's Cathedral, the fourth largest in the world after Rome, London and Florence. This really was pretty and reminded me a lot of St. Paul’s in London. The iconostasis is all mosaics with malachite and lapis columns, just gorgeous. Apparently after the war, they removed a Foucaults pendulum which hung from the center of the dome and replaced it with a stained glass dove. Both here and in the cathedral in the fortress, there was a pulpit, which is not used in Russian orthodox churches because everyone, including the priest, worships at the same level. The reason why the pulpit was there in either place was because the architects were French or Italian.
When they were done showing me all of central St. P, I went on my own to Kazan Cathedral and the State Museum. The museum is all Russian art, and I have realized that before Peter the Great, it was all icons. Then when he came to power, he sent a bunch of artists to Italy and Holland, and they came back painting like artists we know elsewhere. There was one painting I’d seen around town on various signs and swore it was a Sargent. But instead it was an artist named Serov. I didn’t instantly recognize anything, which, coupled with the intense heat of this museum, made it hard to tolerate as the last visit on a jam-packed day.
The Kazan Cathedral experience was emotionally intense and I wasn't quite prepared for it. I have visited a Museum of Russian Icons at home, but even after that, I still couldn't quite grasp the whole icon thing. But this cathedral has Our Lady of Kazan up on the altar. When I walked in, the line in front of the icon was over 50 people long, and the faithful wait in line patiently, then climb the steps up, cross themselves three times, kiss the icon, say their prayers and just meditate. When they walked away it was a mixture of just complete sadness or weariness or relief. It was just something to see, that whatever they seemed to need from that icon, they were just so earnest in their attempts to get it. I'd never seen anything like that at home.
Oh, and ok, so we’re walking around both the cathedral at the fortress and St. Isaac’s and even on my own in the museum, and in each case, we’re just getting trampled by these tour groups. 25-30 people, all either getting yelled at by a guide at the top of her lungs, or roaming like drones following a colored umbrella from point A to point B as they listen to the guide over headphones from a point that perhaps they haven’t even made it to yet. They aren’t interacting, either with each other or with the guide. It was right then, or perhaps when I saw them all piling back on the bus to move to the next sight en masse, that I realized I made the right decision taking this trip the way I am. I get to talk to my guide, ask questions, take detours, take pee breaks...all when I need to, not the when the group or the guide of the group decides it is time. For me, that is worth the price of admission right there. Well, that and hottt Sergei.
So for food today, I had a great cheese pie (like cheesecake in pastry) for lunch at a small coffee bar that my guide found. Dinner tonight was a Georgian meal at Kavkaz Bar (Ul. Karavannaya 18). I had cheese bread (like pita fried with goat cheese in the middle), meat dumplings and tomato/onion salad with olive oil and some spicy red pepper.
My guide is really good about answering questions that I might not want to ask older people. So I dug into what it was like to be here when Communism fell, how things have changed, how she feels now about it. She told me that her mother used to wait in any line coming out of a shop because even if she didn’t know why people were waiting, it had to be good if there was a line. Her grandmother, on the other hand, would only wait if she knew what she was waiting for and knew that she wanted whatever it is.
Believe it or not she said there were some good things about it (everyone had free medical care and it was good, better than they have now, and it was incredibly safe and drug and crime free then too). But the one thing that struck me is that she said "we knew we lived on this planet, but we were not allowed beyond our borders. But then we never even thought about leaving or that it would ever be possible." She said since they've been allowed out, they go as much as they can. Her parents, who I assume are about my parents' age, go somewhere different every time because they are afraid that someday they'll not be let out again. We also talked a lot about figure skating (she was impressed that I can name every Russian back to Rodnina and Zaitsev in 1980!). We watched a wedding at a church we were in and commented on how the groom looked so much older and happier than the bride. She says that's not common and as it was such a small party, it was probably a shotgun wedding, which would explain why the mother looked pissed.
I did a bit of shopping today. The guide took me to an off the beaten path place where I found some matroyshka and a music box I wanted. And I finally found amber that I liked, and got a pendant for each of Abby, Mom and me.
I stopped in a liquor shop and had a mixed conversation in English and Russian with the old ladies about what the best vodka is. They pointed out several, one of which I saw in duty free the other day. I asked "what is your favorite?" The lady says "I drink it all, anything." Well, I guess I set myself up for that response. So I said "My mama said bring her the best vodka, what do you bring your mama?" and she went right to the top of the shelf. Cross your fingers it makes it home in my luggage. I bought it here because it was cheaper than duty free in Germany.
That's it for now. Early to bed tonight and a bit of a lie in tomorrow. We leave here at 10 a.m. for the Hermitage. I’m going to the mothership of art. Woooo hoooo!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Blogging Day One
Wow...that's just about all I can say but it really doesn't seem to be enough.
I'll spare you the gory details of the 13 hours it took to get here. But it was all good: seemingly fast flights, fast connection, good breakfast in Frankfurt (hey, a girl's got her priorities!) and then I breezed through immigration here and then my bag was second off the carousel! Jackpot!
Sergei (hereafter known as the hottt driver assigned to me by my So Far Really Awesome Travel Consultant) took me to my hotel, which is right off the upper part of Nevsky Prospekt (the Champs Elysees of St. Petersburg, I guess you could say). I say "upper part" because it does take about 20 minutes to walk to the center where the main sites are, but hey, we're down with exercise, right?
So fast forward through viewing a Russian block-era hotel room, showering in the world's smallest shower stall, but rejoicing at towel warmers (those who have read the Rome report know how I feel about that!) and off I went down Nevsky Prospekt with nothing but Church on the Spilled Blood on my mind and in my head. But wait...is that a bliny shop summoning me? Oh, this Russian version of a crepe, the ham and swiss was calling to me. Laugh if you will, but I also ordered in Russian and asked a woman "is that seat taken?" in Russian, and she let me sit with her. So there. The podcasts did pay off! And it was educational to stop for a bliny. Really!
Ok, now we're off to Church on the Spilled Blood. And walk and walk down crowded Nevsky, just like in Paris, window shoppers out for the day. Lo and behold look left and there's Kazan Cathedral (which is mildly interesting in and of itself) but I knew from studying my map that if I look right I'd see the church I'd only dreamed of and there it was, sitting right on the edge of the canal. Holy crap. Really, that's what I said. And I walked the canal to it, around it and back to the front, really controlling myself because it's on a tour later this week, as much as I wanted to go in now. But the exterior, nothing in the world can prepare you for this. Part of me says "ridiculous hodge podge" but the other part says "gorgeous, just beautiful". And then back down Nevsky toward the Winter Palace.
I'd double checked my map and noted that Nevsky arcs right and lets me right out into the middle of....and another gasp. Wow. There right as I rounded the corner was the Winter Palace in all of its turquoise splendor. The square is massive, the detail on the palace is insane and the color is so bright, I already know my camera hasn't been able to do it justice. And this is another place covered later this week, so for now I just have to be happy having seen it.
Nearby is St. Issac's Cathedral and not so coincidentally, a restaurant I wanted to try, so I head off in that direction. St. Issac's is impressive and yes, it IS sort of reminiscent of St. Paul's in Rome, believe it or not.
Dinner tonight was at Teplo. I didn't have a reservation, but I went early and figured they could squeeze me in before the later diners come in, which they did. I had an unbelievable pumpkin soup, beef stroganoff and garlic baked potatoes. Yee ha! Of course with all the meals on planes and near the airports today (who can say no to German Fruhstuk??), I think that was my 6th meal since I left home, but we'll get back on track tomorrow. Maybe.
So that's it for today. I'm now 30 hours with no sleep and can't understand how I'm still going. Up early for 9:00 tour...
Pictures from this week
I'll spare you the gory details of the 13 hours it took to get here. But it was all good: seemingly fast flights, fast connection, good breakfast in Frankfurt (hey, a girl's got her priorities!) and then I breezed through immigration here and then my bag was second off the carousel! Jackpot!
Sergei (hereafter known as the hottt driver assigned to me by my So Far Really Awesome Travel Consultant) took me to my hotel, which is right off the upper part of Nevsky Prospekt (the Champs Elysees of St. Petersburg, I guess you could say). I say "upper part" because it does take about 20 minutes to walk to the center where the main sites are, but hey, we're down with exercise, right?
So fast forward through viewing a Russian block-era hotel room, showering in the world's smallest shower stall, but rejoicing at towel warmers (those who have read the Rome report know how I feel about that!) and off I went down Nevsky Prospekt with nothing but Church on the Spilled Blood on my mind and in my head. But wait...is that a bliny shop summoning me? Oh, this Russian version of a crepe, the ham and swiss was calling to me. Laugh if you will, but I also ordered in Russian and asked a woman "is that seat taken?" in Russian, and she let me sit with her. So there. The podcasts did pay off! And it was educational to stop for a bliny. Really!
Ok, now we're off to Church on the Spilled Blood. And walk and walk down crowded Nevsky, just like in Paris, window shoppers out for the day. Lo and behold look left and there's Kazan Cathedral (which is mildly interesting in and of itself) but I knew from studying my map that if I look right I'd see the church I'd only dreamed of and there it was, sitting right on the edge of the canal. Holy crap. Really, that's what I said. And I walked the canal to it, around it and back to the front, really controlling myself because it's on a tour later this week, as much as I wanted to go in now. But the exterior, nothing in the world can prepare you for this. Part of me says "ridiculous hodge podge" but the other part says "gorgeous, just beautiful". And then back down Nevsky toward the Winter Palace.
I'd double checked my map and noted that Nevsky arcs right and lets me right out into the middle of....and another gasp. Wow. There right as I rounded the corner was the Winter Palace in all of its turquoise splendor. The square is massive, the detail on the palace is insane and the color is so bright, I already know my camera hasn't been able to do it justice. And this is another place covered later this week, so for now I just have to be happy having seen it.
Nearby is St. Issac's Cathedral and not so coincidentally, a restaurant I wanted to try, so I head off in that direction. St. Issac's is impressive and yes, it IS sort of reminiscent of St. Paul's in Rome, believe it or not.
Dinner tonight was at Teplo. I didn't have a reservation, but I went early and figured they could squeeze me in before the later diners come in, which they did. I had an unbelievable pumpkin soup, beef stroganoff and garlic baked potatoes. Yee ha! Of course with all the meals on planes and near the airports today (who can say no to German Fruhstuk??), I think that was my 6th meal since I left home, but we'll get back on track tomorrow. Maybe.
So that's it for today. I'm now 30 hours with no sleep and can't understand how I'm still going. Up early for 9:00 tour...
Pictures from this week
Friday, September 10, 2010
T-1 day....
Think about this: tomorrow at this time I should be at Logan, getting ready to hop the flight to Frankfurt en route to St. Petersburg. Yee ha!
It's been a fairly slow week with a bit of excitement at work but I'm here now with an hour left and I think I've left everything in fairly respectable order.
Don't read this if you don't like minutae, but this is what I've learned through various bouts of web surfing during the last few days:
-- Lufthansa's Moscow to Munich flight usually arrives early, very early in fact.
-- However, should you arrive late and are in danger of missing your flight, Munich Airport officials will pick you and your luggage up at the plane and drive you to your connecting flight (ok, so you can already see that I've been re-thinking the 90 minute Munich connectiong coming home, right?)
-- The recommended connection time from Moscow to Munich is 30 minutes. I have 90. I think I'm good.
-- Looks like partly cloudy and mid 60s Sunday and Monday in St. Petersburg. Maybe rain thereafter, but that will be museum and palace time anyway.
-- There are a decent amount of interesting looking restaurants near my hotel in St. Petersburg, not so much in Moscow.
-- The sun doesn't set in St. P this time of year until 8:35! Compare that to Boston's 7:05! In Moscow it's 8:00...that city is that much further south to make a difference.
I packed last night, as in actually putting piles of things into appropriate bags. I am mildly disconcerted that the larger bag is half empty (in this case isn't it optimistic to see a half empty bag?). I wonder if I'm missing something significant or have just become extremely efficient packing over the years. Or if it's just that I'm using my Mom's luggage since mine met an untimely zipper death.
Well damn, this blog post only managed to kill 6 minutes of my last work day. Off to do one more round of laundry and mani/pedi.
I'll blog from the other side, WiFi connection permitting!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Organized chaos
Well, here I am three days out. Can you even believe it? I can't yet. I thought for sure the packing would do it, and it did for that day. But now it just seems unreal. It seems unreal that on Sunday instead of doing a long ride outside and going to the beach, I'll be walking Nevsky Prospekt in St. Petersburg and seeing Church on the Spilled Blood and the Winter Palace instead. Wow. Just wow.
People laugh at my practice packing. Well, let me tell you, it paid off this time. I realized when I got my luggage out that the zipper on my big piece split. Better to find that out last weekend than the day I leave. So there.
Right now, the house is organized chaos. "Chaos" in that it's sort of just piles of "stuff" waiting to be packed. The soon-to-be contents of my carry-on are on my office floor. My clothes are neatly stacked on a chair in the bedroom. My cosmetic bag is mostly packed except for what I'll need until the day I leave. Random stuff like maps, snacks (Poptarts, Candy Corn and Fig Newtons!) and umbrella are in the middle of my bedroom.
Everything else is done. Most of my work commitments are taken care of or as taken care of as they'll get. Tonight is my last night at the gym. Thursday night I'll pack what won't wrinkle. Friday night is one last laundry and mani/pedi.
I guess now it's all over but the going!
Sunday, September 5, 2010
A Week Out
Today my friend Shannon wrote "a week from now you'll be in Russia." Good glory, she's right. A few times today I've found myself adding 8 hours to whatever time it is to put myself into Russian time and then wondering what I'll be doing next week at this time. Wow.
So far I'm doing well. It has finally hit me, I think, as I pulled out luggage, did laundry and started packing things, a nervous excitement really set in. I am finding myself a bit nervous about getting around and knowing the language (or not, as the case may be). This morning I awoke wondering how I'd be able to order lunch when I get there. I'm alone on Day One, so those two meals next Sunday are up to me. I can just imagine walking in somewhere and seeing a menu full of Cyrillic. And being really hungry....you follow me.
But I'll be fine. I know I will.
Yesterday I put a significant dent in my packing yesterday and also cleaned the house in anticipation of my mother doing the cat sitting while I'm away. I feel ready and I'm certainly excited. I do find myself getting a bit overwhelmed at the "getting there" part, because 13 hours seems excessively long to me and when you just want to get there, it is painful. But, I suppose, not nearly as painful as the 16 hours it will take to get home!
So as I see and say bye to people for the last time before I go, I cannot believe it's almost here.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
September is here
September 1st.
It’s here. As of today I can say “this month I’m going to Russia.” Hell, at this point I can say “next week I’m going to Russia.” Wow.
I cannot believe that 8 months have passed since I made that first phone call to the Russian travel specialists. I cannot believe that I have patiently, or not so patiently, bided my time all year and now it’s just about here.
Even though it’s gestated almost as long as a human child does, this trip still seems like a dream. Even as I walk through my planning checklist and make preparations to go, like I do for any trip, it still does not seem real. I’ve wanted to take this trip for so long, I am still in complete disbelief that it’s actually about to happen.
When will it hit me? When will I realize that it’s not a dream, that I’m actually going? Or will I need to get there to realize it? When does concept become reality? Dream become actuality?
There’s so much I already know I want to see and experience and yet I wonder how much experience there will be that I don’t already know. I love the wondering and the imagining and the hoping. Now all that’s left is for it to happen.
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