Welcome friends. Here you'll find a day-to-day travelogue of our trip. For occasional commentary & observations, visit the blog at the tab above labeled "Thoughts Runneth Over."
Russia Bound
Day One - June 2-3, 2012
You know what I love about my husband? You can come home one day and say, "Would you like to go to Russia in a couple of weeks?" and he'll say, "Sure!" Ten minutes later he's on the phone with the travel agent. That's exactly what happened when my friend Grace Kennan Warnecke asked us to join her on a very special trip to the country she knows so well. As a child, she lived in Moscow with her diplomat father, George F. Kennan, who later served there as ambassador and shaped the U.S. cold war policy to "contain" the Soviet Union. Later, she used her own fluency in Russian and love for the culture to return on many occasions to live and work as a translator, guide and business consultant. I happen to know her life story chapter and verse since I have spent the last five years helping to workshop her fascinating memoir. Now the book is almost ready for publication and I'm thrilled to be tagging along on a trip to St. Petersburg and Moscow planned by Grace's son, Kevin McClatchy, to celebrate her 80th birthday.
Below are a few pictures taken en route and on arrival in St. Petersburg -- only about 36 hours after we signed a contract to sell our house!! Oh, and that was after we stayed up half the night packing and went to a family bat mitzvah. Can life get any busier or more interesting?
Below are a few pictures taken en route and on arrival in St. Petersburg -- only about 36 hours after we signed a contract to sell our house!! Oh, and that was after we stayed up half the night packing and went to a family bat mitzvah. Can life get any busier or more interesting?
We Are Not Alone
Day Two - June 4, 2012
You wouldn't know it from the thermometer, but it's summer here and the crowds of tourists are evidence. With our amazing guide Irina, we're cutting lines in a completely non-egalitarian way. And we're covering a lot of ground. The sun is brilliant, providing a pleasing backdrop for every scene. Apparently aspiring artists are inspired; we're seeing them everywhere, with their sketchpads and easels. Musicians entertain us with every manner of music and costume. And couples on their way to the alter are at every historic site we've visited, getting their portraits done in professional photo shoots. Jeff and I found ourselves more interested in taking pictures of people taking pictures of other people. But we dutifully turned our cameras on the amazing sites, too.
First stop was the early 18th Century Catherine Palace about 25 km outside of St. Petersburg in the town of Pushkin, named for the famous Russian poet. The gilding inside was enough to blind you. We weren't allowed to photograph the most amazing room, though -- the one where the walls were covered in amber mosaics. The park grounds were bucolic and unmanicured, making us feel like we had travelled back in time.
Second stop was the Alexander Palace, another summer residence built eons ago for the Tzars, but best known as the place where the last Tzar, Nicholas II and his wife Alexandra, were imprisoned with their children at the start of the Russian Revolution in 1917. They were later taken away and executed.
Check out some images below:
First stop was the early 18th Century Catherine Palace about 25 km outside of St. Petersburg in the town of Pushkin, named for the famous Russian poet. The gilding inside was enough to blind you. We weren't allowed to photograph the most amazing room, though -- the one where the walls were covered in amber mosaics. The park grounds were bucolic and unmanicured, making us feel like we had travelled back in time.
Second stop was the Alexander Palace, another summer residence built eons ago for the Tzars, but best known as the place where the last Tzar, Nicholas II and his wife Alexandra, were imprisoned with their children at the start of the Russian Revolution in 1917. They were later taken away and executed.
Check out some images below:
Happy Birthday Grace
Day Three - June 5, 2012
More artists, more musicians, more brides/grooms, more palaces, more construction, more blue skies and my future kitchen.
It was Grace's birthday today and we did it in style. Great lunch at a Serbian restaurant. Great dinner at a restaurant atop the heavily guarded Gazprom building. And a late night cruise along the canals, where we needed our down jackets AND sunglasses. Pictures of that to come tomorrow since Jeff forgot the camera and I have to get them from Kevin.
It was Grace's birthday today and we did it in style. Great lunch at a Serbian restaurant. Great dinner at a restaurant atop the heavily guarded Gazprom building. And a late night cruise along the canals, where we needed our down jackets AND sunglasses. Pictures of that to come tomorrow since Jeff forgot the camera and I have to get them from Kevin.
All that Glitters
Day Four - June 6, 2012
Somehow we managed to oversleep till 10:00 this morning, so I guess we're officially over our jet lag. And thanks to our slow carb diet, we were able to pass by the teeming displays of breads, cheeses, eight different honeys, fresh-squeezed juices, muffins, pancakes, french toasts, blinis, muesli and whatnot and get straight to the sensible stuff -- eggs, sausage, mushrooms, zucchini, smoked salmon, sable, caviar and green tea -- before sprinting out the door for the Hermitage Museum.
We were met by a guide -- another Irina -- who had us trotting behind her at an impressive clip in her effort to stay ahead of the crowds and give us a well-rounded sampling of the vast collection. She did an amazing job, giving us lyrical, almost poetic descriptions of each work of art, as if they had been crafted by her own children. I was almost as impressed with her command of the English language as I was with of her encyclopedic knowledge of the ancient artifacts she was describing.
The story of the museum itself was fascinating, too. Started as a private collection by Catherine The Great in the 18th century, it burst its seams and spread into the Tsar's Winter Palace and then later extensions overlooking splendid garden courtyards. The efforts to save the vast collection of furniture, paintings, sculpture and decorative arts from German bombs during the 3-year-long siege of St. Petersburg during World War II were awesome and heroic. We weren't allowed to photograph in the jewelry gallery, but the beading and mosaic work on display was so tiny and intricate, it could not be appreciated without a magnifying glass -- a tool not yet available to the medieval artisans!
Next we boarded a hydrofoil for the 40-minute trip to yet another palace commissioned by Peter the Great-- this one on the Gulf of Finland. It, too, had been set afire by the Germans, but not before hundreds of gilded statues from its gardens had been buried on the grounds and bolts of silk wallpaper had been shipped to safety in Siberia. The floors in this, and every palace were wonders of craftsmanship -- elaborate mosaics of dozens of woods or marbles or stones. It was hard to force oneself to look up to see the rest of the treasures on the walls and ceilings.
I was left with the impression that in the centuries before the one in which I was born, so much of the world's population was engaged in creating things of visual beauty. Imagine what would happen to unemployment if more people were trained in arts and crafts and if the demand for their services matched the demand for the kind of stuff we spend our money on today -- most of it machine-made. The world would be a richer place in many ways, no doubt.
We were met by a guide -- another Irina -- who had us trotting behind her at an impressive clip in her effort to stay ahead of the crowds and give us a well-rounded sampling of the vast collection. She did an amazing job, giving us lyrical, almost poetic descriptions of each work of art, as if they had been crafted by her own children. I was almost as impressed with her command of the English language as I was with of her encyclopedic knowledge of the ancient artifacts she was describing.
The story of the museum itself was fascinating, too. Started as a private collection by Catherine The Great in the 18th century, it burst its seams and spread into the Tsar's Winter Palace and then later extensions overlooking splendid garden courtyards. The efforts to save the vast collection of furniture, paintings, sculpture and decorative arts from German bombs during the 3-year-long siege of St. Petersburg during World War II were awesome and heroic. We weren't allowed to photograph in the jewelry gallery, but the beading and mosaic work on display was so tiny and intricate, it could not be appreciated without a magnifying glass -- a tool not yet available to the medieval artisans!
Next we boarded a hydrofoil for the 40-minute trip to yet another palace commissioned by Peter the Great-- this one on the Gulf of Finland. It, too, had been set afire by the Germans, but not before hundreds of gilded statues from its gardens had been buried on the grounds and bolts of silk wallpaper had been shipped to safety in Siberia. The floors in this, and every palace were wonders of craftsmanship -- elaborate mosaics of dozens of woods or marbles or stones. It was hard to force oneself to look up to see the rest of the treasures on the walls and ceilings.
I was left with the impression that in the centuries before the one in which I was born, so much of the world's population was engaged in creating things of visual beauty. Imagine what would happen to unemployment if more people were trained in arts and crafts and if the demand for their services matched the demand for the kind of stuff we spend our money on today -- most of it machine-made. The world would be a richer place in many ways, no doubt.
When in Rome....
continuation Day Four - June 6, 2012
A fitting end to our four days in St. Petersburg was dinner at Number One Vodka Bar. Their specialty seemed to be "shmocked" fish of every kind. In the bar we encountered a motley crew of characters -- from a pair of unleashed toddlers to the historic figures enshrined on the wall. By the way, the "Beluga" vodka was judged superb by our group, and came highly recommended by our cab driver.
Goodbye Saint Petersburg
Day Five - June 7, 2012
Got hold of Kevin's camera while we were on the train heading to Moscow. And I lived the last four days in St. Pete's all over again. He's got such a great eye, I just had to share a few more images with you, including the ones from our nighttime boat ride in broad daylight.
The high-speed luxury train we rode took four and a half hours, leaving and arriving on the dot. The scenery was unchanging: birch forest punctuated by clusters of "dachas" (vacation homes) and an occasional factory.
I'll save first impressions of Moscow for tomorrow's post, but I'll just say the vibe is totally different. Had dinner at a Uzbek restaurant which was one of only four restaurants in Moscow during the Soviet days, when all other eateries were known as "Cafeteria #1, Cafeteria #2," etc. Our hosts were lovely friends of Grace's: a Russian-born law professor who teaches at Moscow State University and her husband, an American lawyer and longtime Russophile. When we couldn't get cabs on the street, they helped us hitchhike back to the hotel! Now, why don't we do that in New York City?
The high-speed luxury train we rode took four and a half hours, leaving and arriving on the dot. The scenery was unchanging: birch forest punctuated by clusters of "dachas" (vacation homes) and an occasional factory.
I'll save first impressions of Moscow for tomorrow's post, but I'll just say the vibe is totally different. Had dinner at a Uzbek restaurant which was one of only four restaurants in Moscow during the Soviet days, when all other eateries were known as "Cafeteria #1, Cafeteria #2," etc. Our hosts were lovely friends of Grace's: a Russian-born law professor who teaches at Moscow State University and her husband, an American lawyer and longtime Russophile. When we couldn't get cabs on the street, they helped us hitchhike back to the hotel! Now, why don't we do that in New York City?
Getting to Know Moscow
Day Six - June 8, 2012
Observations from Our First 24 Hours in Moscow: |
1. There is no shortage of churches
2. No matter where we're going, we're told "it's just a 10 minute walk." Well, it isn't. 3. Traffic jams are proportional to the number of lanes. Eight lanes spells disaster. 4. There are only 10 people of color in this entire city. 5. You don't get a program with your $100 ticket to the Bolshoi. 6. Metered cabs are practically nonexistent. 7. The cabbie's answer to the question "Can you take me to….." is always "Nyet." 8. The "chicken" in the stew you ordered is most certainly something else. 9. A 70 percent chance of rain all day means it will be partly cloudy and you're dressed all wrong. 10. The only place you see Chinese tourists is at the Kremlin. 11. It is possible to sit through a three hour Italian opera with Russian subtitles and not fall asleep. 12. There are no overweight people here. (see #2) 13. Hotel rooms come in two sizes: tiny or gigantic. 14. Fewer people than you think speak English. 15. Modern art is under appreciated here as indicated by the 10 people at the museum. 16. Chinese tourists are in evidence at the Kremlin but nowhere else. 17. You can't get anywhere without climbing up and down at least 50 steps. (See #12). 18. The Kremlin Armory Museum houses enough Tsarist treasure in jewels, silver and gold to erase all European debt -- and ours, too. |
Footnote: Our traveling companions, Grace, Kevin and Jack peeled off to have lunch today with Ambassador Michael McFaul and Nikita Kruschev's daughter and granddaughter at the American ambassador's residence. Waiting for a report....
Going Deeper
Day Seven - June 9, 2012
Planning our second and last day of touring in Moscow, Jeff and I decided we had had our fill of opulence and set out to discover the more common aspects of Russian life. That included getting stuck in the usual traffic on our way to an enormous flea market in the outer reaches of the city. We picked up a Lenin bust to match our one of Mao. There were surprisingly few Americans in the crowd and we heard lots of bartering among locals. But nowhere did we encounter the hard-sell tactics so common in the markets we visited in Beijing and Delhi. Strains of Russian national music played through loudspeakers and one merchant strummed his guitar and belted out folk songs, drawing a small but enthusiastic crowd. Then it was back to the center of town by the underground Metro -- where the stations are grand, the statues from the Communist era are huge, and the escalators longer than any I've ever seen. Hard to believe there's so much traffic above ground when so many people seem to be traveling deep below.
On our way to the Gulag Museum, we stepped into a McDonalds to see the Russian take on the experience and were shocked at its size and the fact that the place was packed. The decor was decidedly upscale from the American version and there was a swanky patisserie and coffee bar in one corner. It seemed odd that the Gulag Museum was in perhaps the ritziest part of town, sandwiched among the Gucci, Dunhill and Chanel stores. Inside the museum, the atmosphere was effectively austere, though the story of the imprisonment of millions of Soviets over most of the 20th Century was a bit thin. Only a wall map showing the locations of the hundreds of prison camps scattered throughout the USSR gave a feeling of the true scope of the oppression. Most of the museum was devoted to displays of retouched photographs, showing how on Stalin's orders, artists removed from group photos the images of people he considered traitors and infidels, most of whom had been executed. Interesting.
On the way back to the hotel, we re-entered the bourgeois world to take in the vast Tsum and Gum department stores, the later being more like a mall, and very beautiful. Our farewell dinner was at Grace's favorite haunt, Cafe Pushkin, where we heaped on the thick soups, Pirofski, Stroganoff, mashed potatoes and meat pies. For those of you familiar with the Slow Carb diet, it was a fitting end to what is called a "cheat day."
Oh, and as hard as I tried to learn the Cyrillic alphabet, about the only words I learned to recognized by week's end were PECTOPAH (restaurant), ƂAP (bar) and TƴAɲƐT (toilet). The rest looked like, well, GREEK, to me.
On our way to the Gulag Museum, we stepped into a McDonalds to see the Russian take on the experience and were shocked at its size and the fact that the place was packed. The decor was decidedly upscale from the American version and there was a swanky patisserie and coffee bar in one corner. It seemed odd that the Gulag Museum was in perhaps the ritziest part of town, sandwiched among the Gucci, Dunhill and Chanel stores. Inside the museum, the atmosphere was effectively austere, though the story of the imprisonment of millions of Soviets over most of the 20th Century was a bit thin. Only a wall map showing the locations of the hundreds of prison camps scattered throughout the USSR gave a feeling of the true scope of the oppression. Most of the museum was devoted to displays of retouched photographs, showing how on Stalin's orders, artists removed from group photos the images of people he considered traitors and infidels, most of whom had been executed. Interesting.
On the way back to the hotel, we re-entered the bourgeois world to take in the vast Tsum and Gum department stores, the later being more like a mall, and very beautiful. Our farewell dinner was at Grace's favorite haunt, Cafe Pushkin, where we heaped on the thick soups, Pirofski, Stroganoff, mashed potatoes and meat pies. For those of you familiar with the Slow Carb diet, it was a fitting end to what is called a "cheat day."
Oh, and as hard as I tried to learn the Cyrillic alphabet, about the only words I learned to recognized by week's end were PECTOPAH (restaurant), ƂAP (bar) and TƴAɲƐT (toilet). The rest looked like, well, GREEK, to me.
|
19. Russians have not yet received the Surgeon General's report on smoking.
20. We haven't been to Saudi Arabia, but nothing we've ever seen rivals the displays of wealth here in Moscow from fancy cars to high class hookers. 21. There's a huge national holiday on June 12th every year, but nobody who lives here seems to know what it celebrates. 22. Despite first impressions to the contrary, Moscow has a beauty and charm all its own. |
No Way Out
Leaving Moscow - June 10, 2012
We thought a 7 a.m. departure from our hotel was enough time on a Sunday morning to make the 15 mile drive to the Moscow airport to catch our 9:45 flight to Paris. WRONG. An hour and 45 minutes later we pulled in to Sheremetyevo, our driver railing at the government in exasperation. Despite Sunday being the first day of a four-day national holiday weekend, road crews were out paving the major highway between Moscow and St. Petersburg, squeezing six lanes into two at many junctures. Muscovites trying to get to their dachas and tourists trying to get to the airport, be damned. As our driver put it, "This is why I hate Russia. Nobody cares about us."
(For more on cars and culture, see this commentary, with input by Jeff Stone)
(For more on cars and culture, see this commentary, with input by Jeff Stone)
Addendum
June 11-June 13, 2012
A few images from our stop in Paris, where compared with Moscow, the cars are smaller, the traffic lighter, the air even chillier and the pomp and circumstance just as unexpected and unexplained. Even in the rain, there's so much to love. And now, it's time to go home. Thanks for joining in on our adventure.