St Petersburg

Our final stop in Russia is St Petersburg. When planning our trip, this city was always at the top of both of our highlights list. An overnight train was a great way to get from Moscow to our destination. Boarding late in the night, sleep came easy and we woke eight hours later to find ourselves pulling into St Petersburg.

Thanks to the generosity of my Uncle Paul, we were staying in a lovely hotel right in the middle of St Petersburg. The juxtaposition, from the ten bed dormitory we stayed in the night before, was not lost on us. There was a real temptation to spend the next five days indoors enjoying everything the hotel had to offer, but despite this we ventured outside.

St Petersburg really is a magical city. So much so that after spending some time wandering the streets, I started to ask myself if it were too beautiful. Almost every building, if it were picked up and placed in any other city, would instantly become a main attraction. Yet here they are forced to share streets with hundreds of other buildings of equal magnificence. To augment their plight, you then round a corner and see any number of buildings, such as the Nicolas Cathedral or the Winter Palace. These truly are the jewels in the crown and their majesty and grandeur dwarf all of those surrounding them.

One of the greatest highlights to date on this trip was the entire day that we spent wandering the halls of the Hermitage. It is not hard to see why it is considered one of the greatest museums in the world. Much of its content is comprised of the personal collections the Tsars and it is as varied as it is captivating. Greek, Roman, Asian and European history is all encapsulated in rooms, that if were empty, would be a spectacle in itself. Much to my amusement, every single room without fail (including those rooms which were empty), had a Babushka stationed in the corner, ready to pounce. Well pounce might not be the right term, but as Krissy found out on a number of occasions, their mouths were very mobile, and they were quick to tell her off for the slightest breach of protocol. That was if they were not asleep.

One thing we came to understand about Russia, or not understand as the case may be, is that opening times were not worth the paper they were written on. Even those attractions that adhered to these times, one required a degree in statistics to comprehend them. A standard Russian opening time sign would read something like this: Open 9am-5pm. Except for, the second to last Friday of each month, Mondays, Thursdays when we are open 4.35pm-8.20pm, every fourth leap year we are closed on Tuesdays and we are not open every other weekend as I need to take my dog to the doctor or my daughter to the vet.

During our trip out to the Catherine Palace, we experienced the personification of the above phenomenon. Firstly we entered the closest Metro Station to our Hotel, only after purchasing our ticket did we find that it was closed to boarding passengers and would only allow people to disembark the trains. We were told by a guard that we needed to go three hundred meters down the road to the next station. So we did and once again experienced that this station too was only letting people off trains and not on (I would like to note that this can't be the 'norm' as we were following people who appeared to be locals, down into these stations and they looked as perplexed as us). Not to be deterred, we headed another five hundred meters down the road and finally found a metro station that would actually let us board the subway. We arrived at a subway station, where we then attempted to transfer on to an above ground train to take us to the Palace. Three different ticket booth attendants all pointed us in different directions, as we searched for somewhere to purchase a ticket. At the fourth, we were finally informed that the trains would not be running today between 8am and 1.45pm. As it was only 10am we decided we needed to find another method of transport and after one rather expensive taxi ride, we arrived at Catherine Palace.

Luckily it was open. Had it been closed I would not have been too disappointed as the façade of the building, with its mix of pastel blues and whites contrasted against gilded roof peaks, was an attraction in itself. Inside, we toured through room after room, each as impressive as the other. Destroyed during World War II the Amber room was meticulously rebuilt from old photographs. As the name suggests, the walls are completely covered with Amber and complimented with gilded mirrors and fittings and it something that needs to be seen to be fully appreciated. Krissy's ongoing battle with Russian Babushkas continued as she defied the "no photograph" signs and managed to snap off a number of them before being confronted by a surprisingly quick old Russian lady. I imagine she would be the equivalent of the SAS of Babushkas to be given this illustrious post, and her swift footedness confirmed this. Still Krissy won this battle, in a war that would last the duration of our Russian excursion.

Christmas in St Petersburg was a wonderful thing. We had travelled to this far side of the world, in part, so we could have a white Christmas. We endured cold, the likes of which I never thought were possible to get to this point. But in a cruel twist, it stopped snowing on the 23rd of December and started again on the 27th. However there was snow on the ground, so we were happy. The streets shone at night with spectacular Christmas lights and Christmas trees dotted the urban landscape. It truly was magical.

(So as to not reinvent the wheel, the Christmas portion of our trip is well documented by Krissy here: http://tvnz.co.nz/travel-news/krissy-moreau-christmas-in-st-petersburg-4669244)