I keep my blog as a personal record of what I'm up to, which might be seen as working towards "An elegant sufficiency, content, retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, ease and alternate labour, useful life"

I'm certainly not there yet.  There is quite some way to go!

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Entries from September 1, 2016 - September 30, 2016

Tuesday
Sep202016

Never far away

 

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It rained overnight and the streets were still wet as we set off early this morning.  We had a 7.40 departure and were up and about shortly after 5 am.  Being on holiday is a serious business!

 

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So far, we’ve stuck broadly to the centre, touristy areas of St Petersburg but this morning, we were to drive out through the suburbs, past scenes which were more representative of the old country we remembered from 1986.  It’s all still there, in spite of the capitalist gloss which is on the surface we’ve seen in the last couple of days.

So we drove past this triumphal arch, commemorating the Russian victory over Napoleon, the kind of place which would have been on our earlier itinerary, for sure.  Four square, solid and bang slap in the centre of the suburban roundabout, there are countless of these memorials all over the place but interestingly, we haven’t been taken to any on this occasion.

 

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We drove past a suburban railway station, surprisingly quiet considering the time of day.  It looked rather bleak and down at heel.

 

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But as our guide Mel was talking about it, my eye was caught by one of those old Soviet-style statues.  I’d snapped it before she explained who and what and wasn’t really listening to the details of the station as a result.  I did hear that this statue is of Kirov, though; yes, he of the Ballet Company and of the factory which bears his name across the street from here.  He came to a sorry end, sadly, as a result of his popularity with the workers.  Stalin felt threatened by this popularity and engineered his demise – Mel told us that research has proved Stalin’s hand in the plot to, ahem, “remove” him.

(I very much doubt that we’d have been given such details in 1985, though)

 

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Just along the road was a Stalin-style factory, too, with the hammer and sickle motif clearly remaining up there on the lift shaft.  “Soviet Constructivism” at its best.

 

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And Mel described these apartment buildings as “Stalin style” too.  She said they were very desirable properties now, because of the solid construction and generous proportions to the rooms inside.  Modern tower blocks are flimsy and insubstantial in comparison.

 

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Kirov had left his name on the nearby metro station, too.  Another remnant of the Stalin era, this Greek style building was part of the grand concept of bringing art and fine architecture to the workers by means of extraordinary architecture on the metro system.

 

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The next station along was modelled on Jefferson’s memorial!

 

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So out we drove, past more familiar suburban landscapes of shopping centres and hypermarkets, built in and around markers such as this one, marking the limit of Nazi siege of St Petersburg.

 

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Still the suburbs went on, with tower block after tower block of modern apartments, linked to the metro system and the city centre by a rickety looking old tram system running alongside the road.

 

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Every so often, we’d spot a glimpse of the (very) old, pre-Revolution Russia in between the trees.  We were actually heading for a pre-Revolution landmark and were getting quite excited, as it was somewhere we remembered very vividly from our first visit here, and somewhere we’d loved.

I’ll tell you about it in the next post.

Tuesday
Sep202016

Oh Russia–Part two

It’s all a matter of getting into the groove, doing everything on their terms and just going with the flow.  Can’t beat ‘em?  Then join ‘em.

So, we showed our passports (again), smiled sweetly, didn’t question, said “spasibo” and did our best to get a smile (50% success).  But the minute we saw what we were hoping to see, all of those small niggles became nothing.  For there really is nowhere quite like Russia when it comes to cathedrals.  And that is what was on our agenda today.

 

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We woke to bright sunshine and enjoyed breakfast with a glorious view.  Apparently St Petersburg gets abut 35 sunny days per year, so how lucky were we?

 

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Our first goal for the day was St Isaacs Cathedral, the one we’ve been driving past to and fro and the dome of which we can see from our ship.  It’s just down the road and across the river, in fact.  We’d seen it from the outside on each of our visits but had never been inside.

 

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Whilst we waited for our guide, we stood admiring the ochre-painted palace to the side of the cathedral, only noting the “Four Season Hotel” sign some minutes later.  Hmm.  Could be a neat place to stay!

 

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We were asked to stand under the canopy whilst Nadya, our guide, bought our tickets.  For St Isaacs is no longer a working cathedral but a museum.

 

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And it’s not only we who get irritated by the petty bureaucracy.  Nadya asked the guy on the gate which turnstile she should bring her group through and was totally ignored.  She led us through #3 and was promptly told that #1 was for groups. She sighed, muttered under her breath and just got on with it.  There was no point in having an argument and she’d clearly had years of experience dealing with such attitudes.  Wouldn’t do for me!

 

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But of course, as soon as we were inside, all such irritations were forgotten.  Though it’s no longer a working cathedral, the interior is just as it was and to all intents and purposes, it’s still a church.

 

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Of course, we were not the only ones there – in fact, it was packed with tourists just like ourselves.  Still, most of what we wanted to see was way above our heads and so it didn’t really matter.

 

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The richly decorated surfaces were mostly covered by mosaic icons and there was a wealth of gold throughout the cathedral.

 

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The colours were breathtaking, especially those of the iconostasis and stained glass window beyond.  Those malachite and lapis lazuli pillars alone were enough to set the heart racing.

 

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My eye was caught by the old Russian gentleman in the icon just to the right of centre.  His face and demeanour seemed just right and very much in keeping with the whole arrangement.

 

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Wherever we stood, a benign saint was watching over us, or in the case of the holiest spots, icons of Christ himself, richly painted in gold and adorned with precious stones.

Wow.

 

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High above us all was the dome and there, right in the centre, was a feature I couldn’t quite work out.

 

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until I zoomed in and saw it was a dove.  There had been a pendulum there, placed by the Soviets when the cathedral was taken over by the state, demonstrating the movement of the Earth.  Later, the original concept of a dove was reinstated – though not necessarily with the original dove itself.

 

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I was paying attention to Nadya by means of my earpiece, but I was also wandering around making the most of my visit.  At one point, I slipped my shawl over my head and joined a few old women in a small chapel to one side of the altar, quietly observing their devotions and standing, enjoying the atmosphere and peace.  There is such power in the atmosphere of these places.

 

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In my ear, I could hear Nadya talking about St Isaac himself, patron saint of the cathedral and I hurried back to see who she was referring to.  Well, look at that – the old man who had caught my eye earlier, holding a picture of the cathedral in his hand. 

 

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We were almost ready to move on, but I caught sight of a few old photos, one of which showed a cabbage patch there in front of the building during Soviet times.  My goodness, how things change.

With a last glance around, we gathered ourselves and returned to the bus, to make our way to the second cathedral, this time a working church.

 

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The Cathedral of Our Lady of Kazan on Nevsky Prospekt was already known to us as well.  It was another landmark we had visited on a previous visit without actually stepping aside, so we looked forward to seeing what we’d missed.

 

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Now, this is a working church and no photographs are taken inside out of respect for those worshipping.  Gentlemen were requested to remove their caps and ladies invited to cover their heads if they wanted.  Inside was rather brighter and less atmospheric than I’d imagined, for really, there were more tourists than worshippers, but nevertheless, a couple of things caught our eye.

 

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Firstly, there was the queue of people waiting to kiss and speak to the 16th century icon of Our Lady of Kazan.  Such devotion is unfamiliar to us, but the patience of those in the queue as each person took their turn to spend however long it took to make their request, offer thanks or seek advice was remarkable.

As we stood and gazed around, we noted a familiar group of saints – the Romanovs.  Nadya explained that modern Russian saints were created to include real people such as these.

But there was one corner which had a spooky significance.  We had reminded ourselves of the Kutusov family following our cruise on the river yesterday and I had enjoyed seeing the pictures from the BBC website of Brian Cox in the role, his picture firmly in my mind as a result.  Nadya explained that there was only one single grave in the Kazan Cathedral and you’ve probably guessed whose it was?  Yes, Mikhail Kutusov – and his picture by the side of the memorial stone looked for all the world like Brian Cox (the actor, not the astronomer!)

I love it when things like that happen!

 

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We had five minutes before moving on, so I skipped quickly outside onto Nevsky Prospekt to see what’s what – the street is the equivalent of Oxford Street and we’d not had chance to see how things had changed since our last visit.

 

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Sure enough, on a sunny Monday afternoon, it was bustling with people and traffic.

 

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The lovely art nouveau former Singer sewing machine shop on the corner looked lovely and I wished I’d had time to run over there and take a look inside.

 

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But we had one last church to visit: the Church of our Saviour on Spilled Blood, which we had seen from outside yesterday and had remembered clearly (for obvious reasons) from our previous visits too.

Spectacular exterior, don’t you think?  Wait till we got inside…

 

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The interior was literally breathtaking, with wall to wall to ceiling mosaics in the richest palette of colours available.

 

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Needless to say, in the sunshine it was all looking pretty amazing and I think we all held our breath for a minute.

 

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Above our heads was a portrait of Christ, high up in the dome, flanked by rich pattern and the portraits of saints, each one carefully depicted in the finest mosaic technique worked by Russian craftsmen.

 

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Nadya drew our attention to the small wooden pavilion at one corner of the church.  Here, in 1881, Alexander II had been assassinated by a group by the name of “The Peoples’ Will”.   He’d been by the canal and the church was built to cover the spot where his blood had spilled on the cobblestones, now marked by a cross of red carnations.

 

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I went back for a closer look a little later.

 

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So this isn’t an ancient church at all, but built during Victorian times.  We loved it all the same.

 

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One iconostasis was particularly interesting as many of the icons had been stolen during the revolution, for their precious stones, mostly.  Just one remained/had been restored, in the centre.

 

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Alexander Nevsky, saviour of Russia from the Teutonic Knights and after whom the Prospekt is named was there, in pride of place.

 

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Of course, we could have spent hours looking around here, simply gazing and marvelling at the place.  I kept spotting something of interest: a saint with a particular pattern on his cope, or a particularly lovely face.  But it came time for us to go.

 

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Through the exit under the starry ceiling, we were out into the bright sunshine.

 

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Out by the canal again.

 

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With the sun behind us, this was prime photo territory. Prime pickpocket territory too, so we took note of Nadya’s advice and kept our hands on our bags and our pockets.

 

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On such a glorious afternoon, it was hard to stop taking pictures!

 

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Just one more…

 

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Even the souvenir stalls were a poor distraction!

 

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But of course, it really was time to return to the ship.

 

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Back past the bronze horseman again.

 

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And yes, through all the passport palaver again.

It was worth every bit of it, of course!

Sunday
Sep182016

A city to be seen from the water

 

Such is St Petersburg, we were told.  So that’s what we did.  We crossed the bridge to our waiting canalboat.

 

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I’m saying nothing about those.

 

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As soon as we got on board, we remembered the  low bridges!  Mind your head.

 

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Like everyone else, we sat outside, up top, for the best photographs (not that this is a fine example!)   “On your left, you can see the Hermitage.  Notice the large windows upstairs”.

 

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From there it was straight out onto the River Neva.  A stiff breeze was blowing and one by one, almost all of our fellow stalwarts had gone inside.  Just an handful wrapped up warm and stayed out.

 

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The front of the Hermitage was behind us as we continued up river.

 

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Inna, still with us, pointed out the significant landmarks, including the Peter and Paul Fortress, where the Tsars are buried.  We’ve not been there ourselves and would have liked to have visited, but the schedule didn’t allow for it.  Never mind, we had a good view.  There, next to the pavilion by the wall, is a small hut, from where the daily shot is fired at noon.

 

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Under the bridge designed and built by Eiffel – not that you’d have guessed!

 

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There, on our left was the battleship Aurora, which I remembered, was famous for the shot which started the revolution.  Now, that’s not bad going for a non-historian like me – I felt quite proud of myself!  It’s on such random facts that a great Trivia team is built, of course Winking smile

 

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We passed the former home of the Kutuzov family, characters we remembered from War and Peace on the BBC recently.

 

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and generally savoured the beautiful architecture of the city.

 

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Inna was pointing out features here and there but we were happy to sit back and enjoy the scene.  She did name the brutal building just behind here, reminiscent of a similarly brutal building in Westminster with a spookily similar purpose.  Better not say the three letters which spell it out, then.

 

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I think this is the Naval Hospital, open to all and not exclusively for Naval Officers.

 

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A better view of the Aurora then, in front of the Naval Academy.

 

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Oh, and there is the actual cannon which fired the shot, with the Russian “Fortress” flag flying.

 

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We’d turned around now and in the gloomy light of a cold – not just chilly – afternoon, we were heading back and not totally sorry about that!

 

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Back into the canal system,  Inna pointed out the smallest monument in Leningrad – the little bird on the plinth there.

 

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We were soon back at the pier near the church, which we’ll visit tomorrow.

 

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Back on the bus then, to return to the ship and past a familiar sign.  Even though we know this says “restaurant” in Russian, is pronounced “restaurant” as we would say it, we still think of it as a pectopah.  Silly.

 

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Our way back to the ship took us past the Bronze Horseman, Peter the Great, another real landmark of the city.

 

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As you can see, home is very central here.

 

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But our day was not over!  We had tickets for a folklore show tonight.

 

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It was in the Naval Officers Hall.  Very grand, too!

 

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Whilst not the best or possibly the most authentic show we’ve seen, it was colourful and fun.

 

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The singers were over-amplified, we thought, though they were very good and those Russian bass voices…well!

 

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You’ll guess which tune this action depicted?

 

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There was a fun balalaika act with a member of the audience, too.

 

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Mostly, however, it was a lot of very fast twirling, jumping, cossack dancing and lively music.  We enjoyed it!

 

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But oh my, were we tired when we got back home last night.

 

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I’ll just leave it to your imagination how long the queue for passport control was Surprised smile

Sunday
Sep182016

Ah Russia.

 

So beautiful.  So different.  so infuriating.

 

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We were first here in 1986, during the early days of Perestroika, when turning over two pages in the British Airways Holiday brochure tempted us with a tour of the Caucasus in preference to the weekend in Prague we were intending to research.  We began our adventure in what was then Leningrad USSR, during the White Nights and found the city captivating.  Well, those parts we were allowed to see, that is.  We’ve been here again since then and though we were interested to return, unlike the majority of our fellow travellers, this wasn’t necessary the highlight of our adventure.

 

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But as soon as we’d seen where we were to stay for the next three days, right in the centre of the city, the old excitement returned and we looked forward to getting out and about.

 

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First of all, we had to complete the formalities.  Just like India, Russia does them so very well.  Not only did we need our ship id and passport, we needed our Russian immigration form.  We’re travelling without a visa, as part of a group, so need to do as we are told and stick with the plan.  Each time we go out or come back in, we have to do the old face to face checks and oh my, does this take time!  Still, I managed a slight smile from the stern customs officer when I spoke one of the two Russian words I remembered: Spasibo!  She looked up from her computer and reminded me by replying with the other one: Pashalsta!

 

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So we joined our group, were issued with earpieces so we could follow her commentary and whilst on the bus, we listened to her instructions.  Were we wearing a heavy coat?  If so, better take it off and leave it on the bus, because no coats were allowed inside and the cloakroom would be needed.  If one person wore a coat, then the whole group would have to wait for the cloakroom and we really didn’t want that…better take our jackets off then.  (No pressure!) 

Who has a large bag or rucksack?  No bags are allowed inside and you will have to leave them on the bus.  Remember, we have to carry passports and suchlike with us?  There was a general muttering about not wanting to leave such things behind.  At that point, one of the guides held her capacious handbag up to show us the maximum size allowed: thankfully, it was larger than my shoulder bag.  Phew. Is that it?  

No!

Who has a camera?  Then you will need a permit.  Just as we were wondering if it was all worth it, she came around and handed stickers out.  At least that was easy!

 

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I ought to have said, we were visiting the Yusupov Palace to begin with.  We knew nothing about the place except for one, important detail: this is where Rasputin was killed.  As we entered, a woman from the palace surveyed our bags and coats, pointing out one of our party who was pushing the limits rather with a “jacket”.  She let us in though, and I guess we got away with that one.

 

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We began our visit in a series of elegant reception rooms, following closely behind Inna, our guide, and listening to her commentary on our earpieces.  As we progressed through the rooms she gave us a little background to the Yusupov family and set the scene for that fateful night.

 

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Her stories were well illustrated by family photographs on the walls, though with all the labels in Cyrillic script, I’m sorry that I couldn’t read them, even if I could make an educated guess.

 

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Rather than go into detail about the events of that night (which you can read here) I’ll simply say that Inna was the best storyteller!  She set the scene beautifully, gave us just enough background to each of the characters in the room and highlighted one or two known facts, for there is much speculation about what really happened that night.

 

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Though I’d have loved more time to absorb these pictures and the letters beneath them, we were able to take in the important points from Inna.

 

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So far, I hadn’t seen a photo of Rasputin himself though – until I turned a corner and spotted a familiar image.  Inna described him as an uneducated country priest who liked his alcohol, who had a sweet tooth and a fondness for money.

 

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She pointed out his childlike handwriting as evidence of his lack of education.

 

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As we went downstairs, she pointed out The Door.  This was an important feature of the story and we should take note, she said.

 

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Downstairs in the basement was the scene of the crime.  Here sat Rasputin, with Felix, who was to deliver poison to the two things they thought Rasputin would not be able to resist.

 

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The cookies and sweet fortified wine were there on the table, but Rasputin did not take any of it.  Instead, one of the plotters delivered a fatal shot.

Or so it was thought.

A little later, he was found, still very much alive, in the courtyard of the palace, having escaped through that door.  As Inna said, “These were no professional killers!”

 

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Inna went on to tell us about the further details of the bungled plot to finally put an end to the Priest, including throwing him in the river (without weights) and the discovery of his body three days later in the ice on the banks of the Neva.

 

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In addition to the photograph of Rasputin with a fatal shot wound to his forehead (contrary to the earlier story) Inna also pointed out a photograph of a British agent who, it was claimed, was sent to shoot the priest and who did the deed as instructed.

Who knows what really happened?  Not me!  But apparently there was no poison in his stomach and no water in his lungs, so it looks like he was indeed shot and even if we don’t know quite who did it, it’s a great story.

 

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We’d have happily finished there, so good was Inna’s storytelling, but there was more of the Palace to see.  First, the glorious staircase, at the foot of which sat a heavily made up babushka, sternly supervising all that went on around her.  I was about to take her photo – or rather take a general photo of the whole hallway, when she caught sight of me and glared… I quickly turned my camera away and shot the chandelier instead!!  Oooh, these women are scary!

 

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The Yusupovs were the #2 family in St Petersburg at the time and their home was furnished in the most elegant fashion of the time.

 

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They entertained lavishly and this room, the Gobelin room, was hung with “tapestries” on each wall.

 

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Except they weren’t.  Tapestries, that is.

 

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Closer inspection revealed them to be painted canvas.  I think they were always so – perhaps genuine French tapestries were unavailable then and this was the next best thing?

 

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There followed a series of elegant, private rooms used by the family.  This was the Princess’s bedroom, with a secret door to the “crystal staircase” leading to the Prince’s quarters.

 

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Each room was lavishly decorated with no expense spared when it came to decor.  The most skilled craftsmen were employed to paint the ceilings and they in particular were absolutely stunning.

 

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Each one different in style and giving a completely different feel to the room.  this one was described as Russian Wedgewood.

 

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One room had a beautiful wooden floor, echoing the extravagant chandelier which hung above it.

 

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And this little arrangement in the corner of a sitting room was highlighted.  In particular, our attention was drawn to the circular table in the front right corner, which has a glass top.  In there, the Yusupovs would place their latest jewellery acquisition for visitors to admire.  I think we got quite a good picture of what life was like for this very grand family.

 

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Next door to the sitting room was the ballroom, and here were fragments of the crystal staircase.

 

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It had been broken up at some point, but elements were reused here, in a more public setting.

 

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Pride of place in the ante room next door was a portrait of the Grand Duchess Xenia Yusupov herself.  Xenia had born a Yusupov and kept her family name even when married, for there was no son to carry the family line further.  She was quite the beauty, wasn’t she?

 

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During her times, the wealth of the family was legendary and as evidence of this, we were shown pictures of a couple of rooms, including the art gallery.

 

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As for many wealthy families, however, times became hard and though some pictures now hang in the Hermitage, others were sold.

 

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The treasure room next door had a series of family portraits and we could put faces to the stories we’d been hearing throughout our visit.

 

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There among the little things was an invitation.  Oh, what it must have been like to have been at that wedding, eh?

 

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Before we left the Palace, there was just one more surprise.  Xenia had been a bit of an actress and had loved the theatre.  With plenty of room in her palace, the best craftsmen and architects at her disposal, what might she do?

 

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Put a staircase into the “Roman room” of her palace and build a theatre!

 

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It’s full size, seats 170 people and the stage is as large as the auditorium we were told.  We also heard that it was used in the latest BBC adaptation of War and Peace, which we will perhaps watch again as a result of being here, for several names cropped up during our tour today.

 

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What I found most surprising is that the Yusupov Palace is right in the middle of St Petersburg.  There are no grounds, just a courtyard, and the canal is right opposite.  From the outside, it looks grand, for sure, but it’s like many other canalside building and gives little hint of the treasures inside.

 

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We weren’t done for the day yet, either.  We hopped back on the bus as far as the bridge by the Church of the Spilled Blood, from where we boarded a boat to explore the canals.

I’ll continue the story in the next post.

Saturday
Sep172016

Next stop, Helsinki

 

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We were just one of quite a few ships heading in the same direction this morning, under the early morning cloudy sky.

 

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I love the skies at sea and this morning’s was a stunner.

 

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We sailed through small channels and groups of islands and finally came to a halt when we could go no further!  Short of parking right in the middle of the Fish Market, it’s hard to imagine a better spot.

 

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The lads were out on a jolly and waved as they went by.

 

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Our tour began with a short drive around modern Helsinki.  We’d been here before a few years ago and it was surprising how familiar it seemed.

 

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Our guide, Marya, spoke about the Helsinki residents’ unfavourable reaction to the “kindergarten art” in the park, but said everyone felt pressured to like it because not only had it been done by a world famous Japanese artist, but the considerable expense had been paid for by taxpayers’ money.  Never mind, she said, it will soon be gone.

 

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Autumn has arrived in Finland and there was certainly a chill in the air as we set out.  An extra layer was needed for the first time this trip.

 

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We were driving 50km east from Helsinki, to visit the second oldest settlement in Finland: Porvoo.

 

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It’s a quaint little town on the banks of the river and today, it was still and quiet.

 

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I’ll get my rant over and done with and promise not to mention it again: I dislike ugly yarn bombing projects almost as much as I hate that European habit of fixing locks to bridges.

 

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I mean, putting all that effort into knitting socks that no-one will wear?

 

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OK, maybe I’ll forgive a little bunting…

 

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Anyway, restrained rant over, here we were in the main market square, outside the old town hall.  I was immediately struck by the palette of colours here.  Surely, no coincidence that the sky is all part of it?

 

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We listened to stories of the history of the town, of the fire which spread rapidly from the kitchen of a poor woman who fell asleep whilst making some fish soup, causing the Mayor to impose a ban on wooden buildings thereafter.  It didn’t work though: people here were too poor to be able to afford stone and simply gathered up the remains and recycled them into the next generation of houses.

 

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The Scandinavian style is so attractive and I couldn’t resist taking photographs of small corners which caught my eye.

 

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We were wandering up the main street, peering into attractive shops on either side, each one with cute window displays aimed squarely at visitors.

 

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I imagine Porvoo is particularly lovely in the Winter, when a Christmas Market is here.

 

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Though at the end of the main street, it became clear that just beyond the old town, a modern city is just across the road.  Not that we needed anything there – we’ll just turn right around and stay with the pretty!

 

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And that’s exactly what we did, spending an hour pottering about, in and out of the small shops and doing a bit of window shopping.   I spotted this cute display of Moomin related goods – always a favourite with me.

 

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Just around the corner was a Moomin dolls house in the shop window (sorry about the reflection).  There they all were: Moominmama and Moominpapa and is that Little My sitting on a chair?

Sweet!

 

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With unlimited funds and a bottomless suitcase, I could have brought a great deal home with me!

 

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Perhaps it’s as well some of the shops were closed: we didn’t have to question whether we really wanted to pay that much for a set of salad servers, however lovely we thought they were. (85 Euro)

 

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Admiring a few cute samples in the knitting shop, I could also have left a few Euros there as well. Mindful of the conversation with our friends last evening, concerning the size of our yarn stashes, I resisted.

 

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We were simply happy to be here, to have time to linger and take photographs, to spot lovely things and to stroll around.

 

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Just as we noticed the roof fits into the colour scheme,

 

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We looked down and noticed that the cobblestone path does as well!

 

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Keeping an eye on the time, we made our way up to the small cathedral, where a memorial stands to a local artist.  Albert Edelfelt.  His name was new to me, but his work hangs in the collections of worldwide museums.  Of course, I had to look him up!

 

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The little cathedral was locked, sadly, so we couldn’t see inside and had to content ourselves with trying to squeeze the whole thing into a picture without stepping too far back and falling down the hill!

 

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Instead, we walked slowly down, watching carefully so as not to turn an ankle on those tricky cobbles.

 

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Overlooking the yarn-covered bridge, we spotted a poem in the water.

 

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It’s easy to see why Porvoo is such a popular place for visitors.  We’re glad we came here.

 

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As we drove back into Helsinki, we were reminded of what life must be like here in winter, as Marya pointed out the two ice breakers over there on the opposite side of the harbour.  There are four in total, working almost constantly during the Winter months to keep the navigation channels open. 

 

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We were reminded of the cold weather once more when we made our final stop outside the Lutheran cathedral in the city.  Last time we were here we learned about the ice fair that’s held in this square every winter, when a replica of the church is made out of ice.

Brrrr.

 

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For us, it was almost time to return to the ship, so bidding farewell to Alexander II in the cathedral square, we decided to make our own way back.

 

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It wasn’t that hard to find our way!

 

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Back on board, our friends told us that their guide had played Sibelius’ Finlandia as they drove back to the ship.  Actually, as we walked back across the Fish Market it was playing in my head too, provoking one or two memories and bringing a tear to my eye, as it usually does.