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St. Petersburg, Russia

I feel I’ve entered a new dimension of time and space. My new friends Anton and Katya have taken me under their wings. I’m having fun trying to speak Russian with Anton and he too is trying to speak English, something I think he prefers to do though only with enough vodka. Katya speaks good English and I think she appreciates the practice. I arrived on Wednesday night (13/6) at the Finnish Train station and Anton and Katya were there to greet me. We immediately walked past Lenin Square to catch the AquaBus along the River Neva to Vasilevskiy Island, where Anron and Katya share a communal floor on the third floor of an old building that apparently Lenin’s wife used to rent a room in! Anton and Katya live in one large room and share the kitchen, toilet and bathroom with seven other tenants. It is just like the place in Russian Dolls, you know – the sequel to Spanish Apartment. Once on the Island, on the way to their apartment walking we met a friend of theirs, Anna. A fellow red head and apparently no English. And then walking down the boulevarde we came upon another friend of theirs who was busking. They asked him to sing me a welcome to Russia song. And so it was that I was standing in the street with my fully laden packs, big one on back and small one on chest, listening to a full husky throated Russian lament, apparently all about Lake Baikal. Very apt I thought. After this wonderful gift we stopped off to eat Russian fried meat pastry thing-os, washed down with a couple of local Vasilevskiy brews, both unfiltered, one dark and one pale. After dinner they brought me to their flat. I showered and we talked. And at 12:45 with the sun just over the horizon we walked back to the Neva to witness the spectacle of the Dvortsovvy and Blagoveshchenskiy Bridges opening for the nightly river barge traffic (opening them during daytime traffic would be mayhem in downtown St Petersburg). By the time we got home and talked some more it was 4am! And so it is that my days in St Petersburg start late morning (after the necessary sleep in) and end in the wee hours. This is what they call the St Petersburg White Nights. And I’m slowly adjusting to the time shift.

St. Petersburg, Russia

After my first night’s late finish (it felt like an eternity but I’d only had one single evening in Russia and it seemed like Copenhagen and Helsinki were long gone) I arose with Katya and Anton. I was on a narrow mattress on the floor, with my head not far from the kitty litter box. Hmmmm. Katya kindly took me to a bank to change my GB Pounds. Apparently everything but USD and Euros are called ‘coloured’ currencies and to exchange them a passport is required. I didn’t have it on me so I returned there later on my own. She went off to work which is actually right under their room in the same building. Anton is a clock repairer. They both work flexible hours I think, as it was after mid to late morning when they were getting off to work.

I headed off toward the historical centre but was substantially waylayed down at the water’s edge where on the eastern edge of Vasilevsky Island I happened upon the favoured spot for just-married couples and their merry drink-toting entourages to light paper balloons and set them floating up over the River Neva. Then there was the customary ritual of the newly weds to drink a glass of champagne together and then smash the glasses on the granite pillar. Later I saw a council worker sweeping the mess up, only to have another nuptial party come and do it all again.

I walked alot today. And I had tired feet at the end. I suppose walking on concrete and cobble stones is different to the clay and slush of Cornwall’s southwest coast path, where I never felt the soreness of feet much.

This is a beautiful place for its people (I must say there is a disproportionate amount of beautiful women in this city and it seems most are smokers – in fact most people smoke if appears) and it’s empire-sized architectural feats and wonders. The multi-onion-domed churches are fanciful and the colours too are vibrant. The view from the coronade of St Isaccs Cathedral is awesome, with 360 degree views over all of the city. Later, I came upon a Military Police training parade on the huge Palace Square in front of the Hermitage and it was reminiscent of those huge parades we’ve all seen during the Soviet-era. I then discovered the many canals that cut through the city. They were invariably plied by tourist barges. But I happened to be standing by a canal when a pod of screaming jet skis tore through on what looked to be a pleasure outing. The drivers reveled in turning and careening in such a way as to send huge crashing waves of murky sea water up over the high granite block walls that framed the winding canals, wetting the cars parked at the edge of the canal walls.

Much like the logic and thoroughness of the Russian language, there are large digital count-down timers (electronic displays) at the traffic lights telling pedestrians and drivers alike how long they have until the lights change. As a pedestrian I find this useful, knowing how long one has left to cross wide busy streets.

By the time I walked home to meet Anton and Katya it was 20:30. I invited them out to dinner and asked they suggest a place. Anton was making his famous Ukraine borsch (beetroot soup). So after he’d finished that and set it aside we went out to eat. The customary vodka was sampled between Anton and I and he, being a proud Ukraine, toasted me in Ukrainian. Katya was the ever ready translator. After a few light plates shared (in a smoke-filled atmosphere I’m afraid!) and some more unfiltered local Island brews, we went on to another late night basement establishment, where locals gather to play board games and a kind of mini shuffle game, played on a special table covered in fine silicate sand grains, upon which the heavy ‘pucks’ slide ever so slowly and gracefully. The aim is to push your ‘pucks’ with the right amount of force so that they slide closest to the other end of the narrow table without falling off the edges or the end into the gutters. We had ‘zakuski’ (food specifically to accompany/follow drinking, especially vodka). And after a couple of small samples of some fine vodka including a honey and peppered variety, I stuck to the fine unfiltered dark ales. We then played some darts.

I was amazed that this place was open so late. We left at 03:30 and it was still open. Katya had taken Anna on ahead. And when we got back to the room, Anna was crashed out drunk on the floor next to my mattress. I think she over did it on the cocktails at dinner. And it was my shout.

It was 4am. I think I’m leaving The Hermitage until last I think!

St. Petersburg, Russia

18:13 Москб&#10 72; (Moscow) time.
A swathe through the tall conifer forest begins to show signs of increasing border disturbance. Fire clearings. New fences. Warning sign posts. Then at the border the fences turn to big wire security fences with rolling barb wire on top.

As my phone switches from Finnish carrier ‘dna’ to Russian carrier ‘MTS’, a station rolls into view. A large austere structure, the Russian flag hangs limp beside it. Further along two guards walk away up a forest lined lane way a large German shepherd at their side. At an overpass I spy a familiar shaped red box-like sedan driving on the road.

At Viborg the Russian border officials board train to ride with us to St Petersburg. My anxiety rose when the luggage official asked me what was in my bag. She prompted me by saying clothes and what else. After a pregnant pause in which I struggled to think what else to mention I blurted out ‘more clothes and oh yes a sleeping bag and some walking boots’. She waved me to stop and moved on down the train checking others. When the austere passport officer came I waited as she perused my documents, half expecting her to ask me something. But no, no questions at all and my passport was stamped. I was in! And I was official!

Helsinki, Finland

15:45 Finland local time. The endless green begins outside my triple glazed window as deciduous trees and conifers abound in dense neat forest blocks framing the Finnish countryside. I’m onboard the high speed Allegro train, the first high speed service (a joint project between Finland and Russia) between the EU (Finland) and the Russian Federation. In the quiet of this modern interior (who’s ever seen a hand held shower nozzle at the side of the toilet (see photos)), as we approach maximum velocity 220 km/hr, I can hear a polite but intense conversation between two Russian academics and two Finnish academics. They speak in English in deep thick measured accents. “Your assumption fails to account for central theorem where we have x substituting y….”, says the older bespectacled man to his younger counterpart. It seems fitting that my land journey to Russia commences in the aural context of such deliberations, as I’ve always fantasised about the profound intellect amongst the Russian academics. Outside we pass rail yards of rolling stock covered in cyrillic characters and I turn my attention back to my Russian lessons. The train slows. The electronic information board on the wall at the end of the carriage reads 217 km/hr. And I see the Finnish border officials making their way through. Stern in their demeanour I double check my papers and I feel anxious with my ‘business’ visa and the unknown nature of my supposed inviting company. I’ll know soon whether I had anything to worry about!

Helsinki, Finland

Bright with a light breeze. Got a good nights sleep after having burnt the midnight oil in Copenhagen. The solid plastic curtains helped keep the light out. I’ll explore a little of Helsinki now though I only have three hours till the high speed Allegro train departs. By early evening I’ll be in St Petersburg. Been swatting up on my Russian. A friend of a Ukranian work colleague has invited me to stay with him and his girlfriend. I’m looking forward to meeting them.

Helsinki, Finland

Met a fellow on the Helsinki airport bus just back from sailing from St Martin to England. He considers himself one of the Finnish minority – the Swedish speaking Finns. While on the bus into city he gave me some great directions and advice, like eschewing the tram and walking to my hostel. Walked past the City Hall – impressive. And then a Russian cathedral – even more so. The midnight twilight, the still air and the lighting off the walls and stones made for a great welcome to Finland. Even more so having met the young sea-faring man with the well manicured beard (maybe too much for a sailor on the Atlantic!) and an unwieldy smartphone (he was showing me maps and sites). It’s now Wednesday 02:13 – checked in! Good night.

Copenhagen, Denmark

After the Kernow adventure arriving in Copenhagen last Saturday night was a change of focus. Reunited with Mum, Dad and I prepared for a new onslaught of beer and food. It was so great to see all of Mum’s side of the family again and sing songs around the reunion table and my cousin Elsebeth’s green enshrouded summer house north of the capital. I’m now entering a new phase and as I sit here in Kastrup airport, Copenhagen I’m wondering what will await me in Helsinki when I arrive there tonight at midnight. Then tomorrow arvo I’m on the train to St Petersburg, Russia. Going to listen to the Russian language audio on my iPod lest I forget everything that dear Anna taught me in Perth!

London, United Kingdom

Cousin Howard dropped us at St Erth station for the 0850 to Reading where we took the connecting bus to Heathrow (on board thy bus now). Howard has been so good to us and his constant reel of entertaining stories, historical tidbits and all things Cornwall/Kernow and Curnow have been much loved and well received by Dad and I.

Marazion, United Kingdom

Brother and Sister Greetings from Kernow (Cornwall). It’s been nearly exactly two weeks since Dad and I arrived here and we have flourished with her narrow hedge-lined laneways, her smiling chy (and tre) folk, her stoned built free houses and her low gas real ales (love ’em). I’m especially proud of Dad after we made it trekking the coast line from St Ives to the strategically-important Porthcurno over the last 4 days (admittedly day two was a rest day!). We saw many a surfer but no basking sharks. Many a grey seal but no Zennor mermaids. But rarely as it happens we did see a pair of Cornish Choughs! Tonight after a pint or two at Goldsithney’s Crown Inn, cousin Howard (my Dad’s distant relative – a Curnow – was a brother to Howard’s distant relative circa 1650) brought out the Kernow tartan in the form of a kilt and vest. It was a tartan that he’d designed himself to represent the Curnow Clan. While reminiscent of the Cornish tartan it’s predominance of purple was happily acknowledged. While the long Land’s End days persisted I counted the badger setts in the hedge rows and cast my wind-bashed face toward St Michel’s Mount (Penzance) once more. Feeling her miles now etched in my thighs (from days walked thus) I turned from her rising landscape to one where your neighbour is your keeper. Kernow bys vyken (Cornwall forever) Chris PS: Off to Copenhagen Saturday night for three days of family reunion (mum’s side), then Helsinki to Russia.

Porthcurno, United Kingdom

All’s well in gail force Lands End, Cornwall. The walk has been great so far. And the family roots investigations have been fun. And this week with the walking dad is holding up extremely well. The knee brace I originally purchased after I nearly wrecked my knee climbing Mt Zeil in 2007 has kept dad’s dodgy one well supported. Today we trek to Porthcurno weather (and escape routes) permitting. After a hearty English (vego) breakfast in the Old Success Inn here in Sennen Cove we braved the gathering Atlantic storm.