Novgorod, Russian Federation

On train now heading to Novgorod, which is 3 hours south of St Petersburg (SPb), sort of on the way to Moscow. It’s the ancient site of the first Viking settlement in Russia, around which the beginnings of the first Russian state formed. It was hard to leave SPb. I made good friends quickly here amongst the crowd of Anton The Good & Katya The Saint. They are all such kind and caring people. Katya has kindly given me her sister’s contact in Moscow who works as concertmaster with the New Opera Theatre and has offered to take me around. The Electritska to Novgorod is very efficient and clean, and after emerging from the industrialised outskirts of SPb, we passed through deep green explosions of rural countryside. The girls next to me were watching a movie together on their tiny smartphone and the large women across the aisle was sending clippings flying as she vigorously manicured her fingernails. This now feels more alone to me after saying goodbye to my SPb friends. Katya and Sasha (a friend of Katya’s whom I was delighted to meet the night before when we went drinking in the park as a party of several – it was after the afternoon downpour in SPb and by late evening with the sun still up it was warm and muggy and it was better to be outside of the apartment) kindly walked me to SPb’s Moscow train station, helping me to navigate the complex ticket purchasing system. I know I’ll manage but I quipped to them both that I need to take them with me for assistance. In Novgorod the dark clouds opened and so I waited after arrival at the station under shelter until it passed. It was after 21:00 hours when I found Hotel Akron. I had some food from my survival provisions in my room and headed out for a lap of the Kremlin until midnight. A grand wall and a sodden moat. Couples wondered through it and out over the splendid river on the pedestrian bridge in the midnight light. Back outside the Kremlin a roller blade skater was practicing exquisite moves on the grand asphalted area before Lenin’a statue. National sports are considered to be ice hockey and skating. In fact Russia is world champion in ice hockey. I supposed this fellow was a ice skater or ice hockey player keeping in shape during the summer on his rollerblades. I’ll explore this old city’s Kremlin (castle) further tomorrow, including the monument to a Thousand Years of Russian History, in the daylight and when things are open and then catch the overnight sleeper train to Moscow.

St Petersburg, Russian Federation

After a full day at The Hermitage with kind Katya, which will have to occupy a blog of its own, I headed off with Anton and his energetic father Sergei (who is a petrophysicist was state petro-giant GAZPROM) to join them on their weekly Saturday afternoon banya session. With not much common language between us, I knew I was in for an experience when the tied bundles of dried birch and oak branches (venik) were produced and we entered naked into the sanctum of intense heat and steam with large men wearing strange felt hats. I was exhausted when Katya and I returned from The Hermitage. As the LP says “navigating [this place] is an art in [and of] itself.” Anton and Sergei were waiting. Just bring a towel and thongs they instructed. We walked up Middle Prospect for 10 minutes and down a back alley to a large old building. Walking up the decrepit and broad flight of stairs to the third floor I smelt stale tobacco smoke. As I’ve now grown accustomed most stair wells are full of the fug of stale smoke and this one was no exception. We came into a plain reception area with a series of curtained cubicles. A stern looking lady attended the reception. Euro 2012 showed on the little tele in front of her. Stripping down and hanging our clothes, Anton flashed open his towel wrapped around his waist by way of indicating to me that putting on my speedoes was not appropriate. I happily took them off! Towels wrapped around us we entered the wet area of the showers and large cold dip pool. I stood around naked a little unsure of what to do next while Anton and Sergei walked about preparing things. First they set to soak in large soaking buckets the dried oak leaves wrapped tight into large bundles by their branches and tied by multiple turns of twine. And then throwing me a pointy felt hat to put on (mine was a stained white one with the Russian Red Star on the front) we entered the sauna. Immediately the heat was intense and imposing. The room was dark and lined in timbers and the smell was pleasant. We laid a linen cloth on the wood benches at the top of a platform accessed by stairs and sat down. One of the men in the dark corner decided it needed more heat and walks down to the boiler in the corner and using a large long-handled ladle, threw water from a bucket onto the coals. The increase in ambient temperature was almost instant. With my arms rigid straight on my thighs I leant slightly forward and breathed hard and intentionally through my mouth – breathing through the nose stung the delicate skin in my nostrils. After a time that wasn’t too soon we stood and slowly stepped down and out to he relative coolness of the shower and prep area. I slowly climbed the ladder to the cold pool. Being on the third floor it wasn’t at floor level. Instead it was like a massive trough with large unwieldy ladder steps up and over for access. Now it was time for the fraternal administration of oak leaf beating. While I sat breathing slowly in the hot steam I watched Sergei douse the wet leaf bundles with a mixture of pone and eucalyptus oil. He then rose to the platform and walked up and back shaking these branches above his head. We were hit by the fine spray of wonderful aromatics and soon the bath house was a perfumed sanctum of men taking the time to care an honour each other. Sergei asked me to lie down but then changed his mind and thought it better to have a demonstration first on his son – they of course do this habitually / ritually every week.

St Petersburg, Russian Federation

Another late start but thanks to Anton’s amazing Ukranian borsch all was put right from the night before. His supply of Bread Beer was also well appreciated – a yeasty fizzy non-alcoholic drink made from soaking good Russian black bread in water and allowing natural fermentation. Late in the day after a pile of handwashing Anton and I headed out to the Peter & Paul Fortress. We took the Metro, which was my first experience on this deep subterranean beast. It’s at least 70 metres down and all accessed in one long single escalator. A bit old and rattly it certainly goes fast and moves thousands of people. After passing underneath the River Neva twice and admiring the baroque interiors during line hops of some of the oldest stations – constructed in the 1950s – we emerged on the surface at Gorkovskaya Metro from what can only be described as a giant flying saucer shaped building. At the River Neva waters edge near the fortress many people swam in the murky sea waters pushed by the tide up from the Finland Sea. It was hard to imagine the long winter freeze and the fact that these river waters would be iced right over later in the year. I tossed low denomination rouble coins at the little hare statue in the moat accessing the fortress. Katya told me a story about this hare, which in the early stages of relating she was erroneously referring to as everything but a hare. After a lap of the fortress interior Anton left me to attend his yacht sailing club. With his beard and height he looks all the bit a sailor. And though he is by nature a man of few words he has an ancient wisdom about him. I continued exploring the fortress alone. I then took the 27 rouble (AUD$0.82) per ride Metro via two changes to Lenin Square, where I’d arrived on Wednesday night but never really noticed being in the tow of Katya and Anton. Apparently a terrorist act recently had ripped a hole in the massive bronze statue of Lenin. The explosion’s hole was left right through him in the place where people would say hurts the most! Needless to say the statue was repaired rapidly to avoid Lenin’s embarrassed state lingering in the public eye. Headed back to the ‘hood via Metro and adjourned to a little vego restaurant hidden in a back alley. Very delicious!

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

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

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!