It was a ‘gird one’s loins for another mammoth history lesson’ day today. We left even earlier, having assembled at 7.45am; we went through the passport control and were on the bus and away along the Moscow Prospect by 8.15 am. Phew.....................
It was another blazing summer day, very unusual for August so Elena our guide told us. St Petersburg is the northernmost capital city in the world, so, a little like Paradise summer is short, and by June 22nd the festival of the ‘White Nights’ happens, when darkness never falls, and winters consist of a bare 4 or 5 hours of daylight.
We were travelling south from the city today on the road to Moscow, which is around 1300kms ‘down the road’, but we were only going about 28 kms to Tsarkoe Selo, or the Tsars Village, as it was called prior to 1918, and now Pushkin in honour of the Russian poet who loved it there.
As it was so early when we arrived at the Catherine Palace it was empty – we were the first tour, infact it was not yet open and the band had only just arrived, and were still lipping their trumpets and horns! Being a musician by trade I always put money in the hat, and these guys were fab. They played the Dance of the Cygnets from Swan Lake, and tripped a little balletic cygnet dance as they played. Who could not tip them! NB The Tuba player was also the percussionist, versatile and very jolly with it, I have never seen a band player who could blow, tap and smile all at the same time!
It was brilliant that we were the first, and meant one really felt free to wander a little and take in the incredible building fully, in the quietness, and entirely jostle free.
The overshoes were truly awful, shiny blue plastic and so slippery on the ballroom floors that I felt unable to give it my best pirouette and jetee, what a disappointment! The magnitude and magnificence of these buildings is awe inspiring, and after awhile I felt as if I was swimming in a bath of golden honey.
One lovely restoration was of the coronation gown of Catherine the Great, which you can see on a model, and just behind this, is the portrait of that moment in time. The reconstruction was almost perfect to a stitch.
One of the highlights of this wondrous place is the Amber Room, which was only completed in 2007. I cannot remember statistics, and would not bore you with them if I could, but suffice to say this room, where one cannot take photos as it is too damaging for the amber, was so beautiful and so magical that I was rendered speechless. (Yes really). Standing in the centre, with relatively few other folk I felt submerged in a flaming sunset which never dimmed. My strongest memory of this palace is that moment. I took a photo from the next room, looking into the Amber Room, well a small corner of it, and the Babushka who was guarding that room almost had an apoplectic fit, so I moved on as rapidly as my plastic clad feet would allow me to slip and slide.
Restoration still goes on, and note the photo where the work was happening under miles of beautifully painted plastic sheeting – now how long did that take, before it was even erected to protect the craftsmen and women?
We went on to Pavlovsk Palace which simply means Paul’s Palace, only 6 kms away from the Catherine Palace and still part of the Tsar’s Village.........and I think that finally I found a home, still grand, still majestic, but in proportions which I could understand, and where I could see Imperial children playing in the corridors and rooms.
The chandelier in the entrance was smaller than, but just as exquisite as any I have seen thus far, with filigree crystal feathers around the edges, and the chapel was small but homely in a fairy like white and gold sort of way! There is a photo of a really personal moment. All the statues and carvings were, like at Peterhof, buried or hidden as the Nazis were approaching the city in 1941, some very quickly and roughly, but no matter how swift the historians had to be, each had a hand written number on it so that when the liberation finally came, presumably from Nazis and Communists, the recorded number, written in code and kept by those brave people could tell them the hiding place. One felt clearly that these people knew it would be many years before the Nazis left, and a government came to power that cared about the Imperial history. They were right, and their courage and tenacity saved thousands of priceless works of art for the delectation of the culture loving wider world. One of these brave souls is now 87 years old and still works on restoration pieces at the Institute of Restoration Trades in St Petersburg.
We had a splendid lunch, and first taste of Russian Borscht as our soup, and good it was! Once again I had to run the gauntlet of incredulous Russian waiters when I asked for more water – at this restaurant the bottled water was strictly ‘von for two person Madam’! A kind gentleman who preferred to take my champagne and vodka gave me the whole bottle of water in return! Chivalry is not yet gone.
We got back to the ship at 4pm, and for the final time we were suspiciously scrutinised through passport control, and stepped off Russian soil onto the Boudicca. I needed intravenous tea and my feet soaked in precious restorative oils, and I seriously wondered if I would have the ability to walk further than kitchen to music room, ever again.
I sat by the rails until I was the last person on deck and watched us sail up the Neva, receiving warm waving’s from other boats, large and small, until us at last we entered the Gulf of Finland and I watched a beautiful silhouette of the last Russian dome, fade into memory.
An astonishing two days.
Now I need R&R.
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