The Tragicomedy "Civilizing Kosha" in Five Acts
Act 1. What's happening here?They brought us to Pobrebrick-city and we started cruising around town. The tour guide barely had time to tell us "look left, look right," because every building in the city's historical center is famous for something or someone famous lived there. Or some other well-known thing happened. For example, the Radio House; radio worked there during the blockade and there's even a memorial plaque for O. Bertgolts—she did something important there too (but I'm a degenerate and forgot).
And not far away is the famous store of the Eliseev merchants; the prices there are such that I don't know how to count that high. A single cookie can easily cost around 100 rubles, but I almost worked up the nerve to buy some signature handmade chocolate there. However, on the day I wanted to, I was crawling out of the Kunstkamera dead tired and decided: screw it.
Next to this store are the famous monuments to Leningrad's cats—Vasily the cat and Vasilisa the cat. Everyone knows the story that from hunger during the blockade, residents ate all the cats (or almost all—apparently they fought for the Hermitage ones), and later they had to be brought into Leningrad by wagon-loads from all over Russia.
Next, we went to catch some awesome views of the Spit of Vasilyevsky Island. The photo is purely symbolic; you have to see it with your own eyes.
Then they drove us to the Bronze Horseman. It's cool. Unlike me—holy crap, someone clearly needs to lose weight, yikes.
Next is the monument to Nicholas I and opposite it, St. Isaac's Cathedral. The second photo of St. Isaac's was taken later, when I had already set off on my own.
And then there was Kazan Cathedral, the one with the colonnade, beau-ti-ful. But the photo is from the other side; it's more interesting that way.
Then they drove us past Smolny and kicked us out of the bus right into a pouring rain to stare at the church at the Institute for Noble Maidens. Well, not exactly "kicked out"... I could have stayed inside, but look for yourself and decide: could I have stayed inside and not approached such beauty more closely?
After all these hardships, we were dead tired and finally dropped off at the hotel. The hotel is cool, almost in the center, a couple of steps from Nevsky Prospect. I was given a room on the 5th floor, so every time after a walk, dead tired, I crawled to my room practically on my teeth since the elevator was being slightly repaired. But the room was awesome, with a sloped ceiling and a roof window, very cozy; it had everything necessary and even more, though they could have cleaned the armchair from spilled coffee better. Oh well.
After taking a shower and resting a bit (rested longer than planned because I didn't bring a hairdryer), I headed to the cat museum and got slightly lost. As I mentioned in the Haven, I decided to go along Nevsky first so as not to get lost for sure, but on the way, I stumbled upon a Natura Siberica store and had to return to the hotel with heavy trophies. There was a promo action advertising Tuva; products made from Tuvan ingredients stood in the center of the shop, customers were treated to Tuvan tea, and girls in Tuvan costumes were dancing, while some guy in such a costume played some kind of thingy. Well, I decided that since people are trying hard and I love Siberica, I can afford to go broke; at the same time, I got a scrub for free. The scrub, by the way, is insanely cool and smells great, but it has a very short shelf life, so I had to use it up on the spot—I hope I didn't clog the plumbing too much with cumin seeds x). The tea they served was very interesting: green tea with milk and salt. After the first sip, I thought it was some brutally disgusting swill, but then I got into it and realized it wasn't so bad; the taste is interesting, you can get used to it and even enjoy it. In short, a like from me to Siberica's marketers—they caught me.
Back in the room, I looked at the map and figured out that I could have walked parallel to Nevsky instead of along it, which is exactly what I did. I didn't get *that* lost, because in confusing situations, I again turned to 2gis, for which I am immensely grateful and which led me to the cat museum... But it turned out to be an anti-cafe.
Not that I'm against it, but I didn't want to waste time on an anti-cafe, so at cruising speed, I rushed to the Faberge Museum to make it before closing. I walked along Nevsky to the museum; luckily, there was nothing much to cut across and I could just walk calmly. There are not only eggs but many other shiny things; you can take a brochure and read everything—luckily, brochures in Russian and "bourgeois" were in every room for free use—but I was a bit tired and just stared at the shinies.
I returned to my room after dark, basically.
Act 2. Evening in the cell, an hour of joy.After breakfast, our group left the hotel to learn some "cheerful" news—our bus broke down. According to the plan, we were supposed to visit the Peter and Paul Fortress and Kronstadt, but since things had gone south, the guides decided to make a switch and postpone Kronstadt until the last day. Therefore, under careful guidance, we headed for the metro. Not everyone; some told the guides to fuck off and returned to the hotel, but I wasn't one of them. The metro is cool. Deep as hell. Since Peter stands on a swamp, construction there is generally a pain, and building the metro is double the pain.
So, after the metro, we came out near the Peter and Paul Fortress; there was a square depicting the center of historical Petersburg in miniature.
Then we made it to the fortress itself. They told us all sorts of interesting things, specifically that for like a hundred-thousand years they've been firing a cannon at noon, using a different one each time (there are two in total). I was shocked myself, but I managed to catch the moment of firing.
There was the famous monument to Peter I, the "12 Chairs" composition, but I'm a loser and a gay and didn't photograph them; instead, I photographed that same trendy building whose spire sticks out and is visible from everywhere. But what building it is, I don't remember, lol, I'm a degenerate.
In the fortress, the guide wanted to give us free time, but we told her to fuck off, saying we'd get to the Summer Garden on our own. She agreed, explained how to get there, and fucked off, while we scattered in all directions. I headed for the prison for political prisoners. I just walk up, hand over the money, and declare: "I want to go to prison!"
The exposition is not bad, but a bit monotonous. 95% of the museum consists of almost identically furnished cells, with plaques nearby saying who sat in this prison, for what, and when. Separately, I should mention the punishment cell (a small room where it's as dark as a black man's ass; there are two of them, but one was playing audio of someone's memories and was crowded, while the other was empty—I went in there, br-r-r-r).
Leaving the prison, to keep my spirits up, I headed to a temporary exhibition of torture devices happening right next door. Maybe I'm a sadist at heart [comment about Luke in a collar as my main fetish], but the exhibition is not bad and substantial. There's a sign saying children are not allowed, but people brought their kids anyway—apparently for educational purposes, lol. I was glad that there weren't just scary iron things and ways to use them, but some historical figures like Joan of Arc, Dracula, and Emelyan Pugachev were also covered in context. Each exhibit has a plaque with "many-letters" that popularly explains what it is and how it works. For me, nothing was even remotely creepy; I've seen worse in Skyrim. Even though I don't particularly respect dismemberment and guts.
Right there nearby was an amazing exhibition of microminiatures. 95% of the exhibits were visible only through a microscope, so the photos are brutally crooked and pointless—I held the camera up to the microscope and somehow tried to catch the frame; as you can imagine, it didn't turn out great, but it gives an idea.
Well, I'll say again that the torture chamber and miniatures were temporary expositions; I was just lucky they were happening while I was there and got to go stare at them.
But the Museum of Cosmonautics was permanent. Actually, in those parts, there used to be a secret laboratory for developing rocket engines, but now only the museum remains. Of course, I stormed in there! THIS IS SPACE!
The museum seemed a bit boring at first since it started with just various strange people and their books, but then it picked up—various instruments, posters, photos of the sky, and finally the best part: satellite models and other space toilets. And a cool story about a French cat in space. Specifically, only the "frog-people" thought to launch a female cat into space because these animals are perfect for research due to their vestibular system, but unlike dogs, they are brutally headstrong and capricious, so try packing them into a ship. The French managed it, but no one wanted to repeat their experience. So in the end, I left feeling satisfied.
On the way, there was also the Summer Garden. I was tired as a dog, my legs hurt like hell after yesterday (also because my favorite boots got completely soaked and I walked in sneakers that are too small for me; usually it's fine, but with prolonged wear it tells, and I spent half the day on my feet), but I walked across the Trinity Bridge as the guide advised. No regrets—the views were awesome: of the Neva, the Spit of Vasilyevsky, the city—ve-ry cool. Limping across the bridge, I saw a green mass and joyfully rushed to the nearest bench, thinking "here it is, the Summer Garden," and even the suspicious openness of the space didn't bother me. But then I checked 2gis and realized that I am a loser and a gay.
Anyway, enjoy the photos of Mars Field.
Then, already cursing quite a bit and barely moving my feet, I heroically made it to the Summer Garden. There, fortunately, were plenty of benches on every corner, so I managed to walk around well. The garden is very cozy despite the large number of people—quiet and secluded, with many private corners; everything around is cute and green. And a bunch of naked women and men. Later in the Hermitage, they told us about the statue of Venus: that it first stood in the Summer Garden and guards stood next to it because people were shocked by a naked woman. And the monument to Krylov. For variety, he's dressed.
The magnificent lake with swans located at the exit—I didn't photograph it because I was already tired as a dog. Even like two dogs.
But!!! In such a squeezed-like-a-lemon state, I STORMED BACK TO THE HOTEL ON FOOT. I stormed for a long time, already limping on both paws, checking 2gis, but I stormed. On the way, I did two important things:
1. Stuck my nose inside Eliseev's. At the same time, I stared at the cool interior and was shocked by the prices.
2. Stopped by the Planet of Organics brand store, where I bought half the shop (posted photos in Haven). Funny fact: at Siberica, I only bought shampoo, shower gel, and a jar of soap (+ free scrub), but at Organics: shampoo-balm-two masks-soap-two scrubs-two creams, and in both stores, it cost me the same amount—Siberica was even slightly more expensive. Although there, the soap jar is larger by volume. But for me, these two brands are roughly equal in feel and effect.
- Oh, you've bought so much from us! Would you like a loyalty card?
- Do you plan to open your store in Tula?
- Well, unlikely in the near future...
- Then sorry, but I don't need a card...
Anyway, with such trophies, I barely crawled up to the fifth floor and spent the whole evening indulging in degradation.
Act 3. In the Greek hall, in the Greek hall...On the third day, we cruised around the city again. Our bus was only fixed by evening, so in the morning they drove us in a local one. We stared at the "Aurora." There, some guy in costume called me a "hat" (idiot). I even thought about taking a photo with him for that. But we were warned that photos with these guys cost own-//-illions of money, and I don't know how to count that high, so throughout my stay in Peter, I avoided them like the plague, and this guy was no exception. No reason to call names. He's just like that himself.
Then they took us for a boat trip along the canals. Actually, it cost money, but the travel agency wanted to hush up the unfortunate incident with the bus and paid for this excursion themselves. So personally, the bus breakdown was only beneficial—plenty of free time in Peter and Paul, didn't miss the Summer Garden, rode the metro (again on the house), and didn't have to pay for the boat. Pure blis-s.
The highlight of the program was the famous Hermitage. In it, my camera tragically ran out of battery, so a lot of good stuff remained off-camera (actually, I tried not to take too many photos—just enough to mark that I was here and saw this, mostly symbolically, but there were still own-//-illions of photos; here is an excerpt from the VK album, and in VK it's an excerpt from all photos, and there are still plenty of crooked and blurred ones). The coolest part turned out to be the knight's hall with canonical armor like in pictures, but alas, so here are random trendy photos and a selfie of Kosha, completely stunned, with one of the exhibits. Touching exhibits is, of course, a no-no; I tried to keep my distance anyway—at least the attendant didn't say a word to me, although she saw my face-making perfectly.
I lingered there for a long time, even got slightly lost, but I found my way out. On the way, I stared at temporary exhibitions with porcelain flowers and various cool dress-tapestries, and also stuck my nose into the art of the East (Far and Near). But you need to spend the night in the Hermitage to properly appreciate everything; besides, I'm a person spoiled by the internet, and looking at great paintings, I didn't remember how great the artists were or how well they painted, but rather funny pictures about the suffering Middle Ages. But the impression is mega-awesome, although breaking in there is quite an adventure—the queue stretches out insanely; we went as VIP-VIPs with a tour, but others are less lucky.
From the Hermitage, I bolted by metro to the hotel and first thing put my camera on charge. But it wasn't very useful since I have a simple cheap point-and-shoot that doesn't take photos at night—at all. Sorry for the "shaky" photos, but I can't not post them; I hope you can get some impression of nighttime Peter from them. In real life, it's own-//-thousand times more awesome.
By the way, for the night excursion, they drove us in our own bus—finally fixed, woohoo!
The culmination of the night program was the opening of the bridges. Specifically the Palace Bridge, which opens to classical music. If I'm not mistaken, that day it was Shostakovich's 7th "Leningrad" Symphony, because the next day was some commemorative date related to it and the blockade. But I could be wrong; I don't know this symphony by ear—I'm repeating what the guide told us. A hell of a lot of people crowded even half an hour before the show; from my spot, the opening was barely visible.
We returned to the hotel at two in the morning; the administrator was even more shocked than we were.
Act 4. Favorite Soviet attraction.On the fourth day, I was supposed to go to Tsarskoye Selo, but a "cheerful bird" called Oblo-mingo stopped me—as it turned out later, the queue there is giant, and priority is given to foreigners, while Russians can just be disappointed. I ordered the tour at the office, but they honestly returned my money right then. I didn't order anything instead, but on the spot, it turned out that a tour of Pavlovsk could be paid for as you go, which I didn't hesitate to use and didn't regret one bit—it's an awes-o-me palace. I don't like Paul I; in fact, hardly anyone does. But the palace left the most pleasant impression: insanely beautiful and excellently decorated. After WWII, it was thought to be lost forever; first the fascists had their way with it, then a fire happened, and only one and a half walls remained without floor or ceiling, but some good things were managed to be hidden/evacuated, and apparently back in 1944 (if I'm not mistaken) they started restoration, and now the palace is like new, hurray.
Then we were given free time to walk through the mega-awesome 146/10 park. It's huge, beautiful, quiet; there are plenty of squirrels, and also I got lost there :(. However, not very much, but I was still shocked—I didn't think I was capable of getting lost in principle, oh well. But it's beau-ti-ful.
From Pavlovsk we went back. A couple of masochists set off to storm Tsarskoye Selo (though I doubt they made it into the Amber Room, most likely just stared, but far be it from me to judge), all normal people went to the hotel, and I, on a tip from Sesam, plodded to the Kunstkamera. More accurately, I aimed for the Zoology Museum since there's supposedly fewer people there, and the Kunstkamera only if lucky. Well... in Zoology there really were fewer people. Actually, there were none at all. Because the museum, which was supposed to be open that day and generally, SUDDENLY wasn't working. I was shocked, assessed my position, and with the words "well damn, why did I ask to be dropped off" stormed to the end of the queue for the Kunstkamera. No, not just a queue. To the end of a GIANT QUEUE for the Kunstkamera. Because the giant queue stretched from the entrance and turned even around the corner. Along the queue were a hot dog kiosk and a nut kiosk—they chose a very lucky spot; I think they made a fortune on this queue. However, it wasn't completely hopeless; this pornography moved at a reasonable pace and passed me in about 30-40 minutes, after which, in the company of the coveted ticket, I set off to sta-a-a-are at the coolest exposition. I didn't appreciate the "freaks in jars"—they are disgusting and scary—but everything else was just 146/10; I walked with my mouth open and meditated on almost every display case. The photos are wildly shaky, but I'll still post a couple, just for laughs and to mark that I was also there. Although it means nothing; I didn't photograph even a tenth of it, let alone post it.
From the Kunstkamera, I first decided to take the metro, but then looked at where the nearest station was, thought about it, and decided to head for the buses. And that was providence from above; on the way, I came across a souvenir shop where I found that lace with Doc that I bragged about in Haven, wee-e-e-e.
I was shocked by the buses, by the way. In them, old-school style, you enter through any door and the conductor walks around the cabin; we haven't had such a scheme in Tula for a long time (though maybe they introduced a new one due to lack of conductors, but our scheme seems much more convenient—you enter the first door, immediately pay the driver/conductor, and ride calmly). On the other hand, in Peter, buses run on a dedicated public transport line, not in the flow like we do. Well, and our traffic jams aren't quite that insane and generally there are fewer people.
Act 5. FOR THE VDV!!!On the fifth day, after breakfast, I heroically hauled a mega-heavy bag from the fifth floor (remember my raids on cosmetics stores) and loaded into the bus. There we said goodbye to the Peter tour guide, got another Peter tour guide in return, and headed for Kronstadt. On the way, they showed us through the window THAT SAME "Zenit Arena." Seems it's finally finished.
Kronstadt was cool. Hung out around town, stuck our noses into Petrovsky Park.
Live long and prosper \//_
I wore this trophy all the way to Tula. More accurately, all the way home.
Then they showed us the Naval Cathedral. It is awes-o-me. It's super-duper-mega awesome. Very beau-ti-ful. And decorated in a naval theme. And in front of it is Anchor Square, with an anchor design laid out on it. This is clearly visible in
google maps.
There on the square also stood a monument to Makarov, the admiral who was slightly drowned along with his ship in the Russo-Japanese war. And behind him is a memorial to the icebreaker "Yermak".
Miniature: "Small dog—a puppy until old age."
- Oh, what a smart child! Answers all my questions! Where did you find such a clever girl?
- ...this child is already 25 years old...
- Oh, really?! Sorry... I thought you were a schoolgirl...
So that's how it is; in the guide's opinion, I'm a schoolkid. I don't even know whether to be happy or offended. But the guide told stories well, so let me take it as a compliment.
The last item on our insane program was Peterhof. Also a mega-cool garden with plenty of squirrels, various beautiful cascades, trolling fountains (well, they were trolling under Peter, but now they work constantly and everyone knows about them, yet people voluntarily go in to get wet... Or they go in with umbrellas, chea-t-e-r-s). So here is the last pack of cool photos, enjoy.
Also, in some places, there was a coolest view of the Baltic Sea *_*
Well, that's all, basically. Then we stopped at a cafe and from there went home. Tula residents from A to Z were taken separately in a trendy minivan; on the way back, I asked to be dropped off a couple of steps from my house and finished the walk alone. So everything ended well, which is what I wish for you too.
Overall, the impressions are very pleasant. There was some nonsense—well, can't do without nonsense—plenty of people, plenty of foreigners, plenty of bustle, but the city is still very beautiful and interesting; a lot of good stuff remained off-camera, I simply physically didn't have time to visit everywhere I wanted, but I already really want to go to Peter again or many-many times. Maybe not next year, but we'll see. Those who've been there are great; those who haven't—definitely go if you don't live in Chukotka, but even if you do live in Chukotka, it's worth it, believe me.
Purely subjectively, I liked Karelia more; it's calm, "lampy" and beautiful, no bustle, everything is very cozy, but Peter is also awesome in its own way—great organization, the guides were great, it was cool.
