OK, not quite true - I'm actually in London at the moment. But you get the gist, right? And since this is an email about Russia, I'm going to use the present tense.Quick round-up of the tail (or should I say tale) end of my trip to Russia -
Returned to St Pete's. Did I mention it rained just about every day? I've gotten quite adept at predicting which ominous cloud will be a puddle-dumper. (Luckily, the rain never lasts very long. It's never stopped being odd to see the speed at which warm and sunny turned into cool and rainy and back again.) And packing an umbrella was one of the btr decisions I made.
Once back in town, Chris' and my first order of business was finding a place to stay for the 4th. We ended up at the St Pete's hostel. Screens are the new plastics for Russia. Well, that and smiling, but I think there's less money to make in teaching people to smile. And it's not like they're hiding bad dentistry - I suppose that it's just that Communism is nothing to smile about. (On the other hand, perhaps this vendor chain that I insisted on referring to as 'CrapDogs' is?)After a night in the hostel, we decided we had to leave the country. So, off to various and sundry travel agencies it was. This turned out to be a fairly fruitless endeavour since it was obvious that Chris wouldn't be able
to make it back in to the country without a multiple visa entry. (It many cases, I had the first multiple entry tourist visa the agents had seen.) We decided to head to the Consulate of the good ole US of A to see whether they could help.As you might imagine, security is pretty tight there. I had packed my bag on the assumption that we'd be out of town for a few days. The security guards and officers dropped my camera three times before I closed my eyes and stopped counting. My new fangled passport set off the
security alarm (hmm - guess that microchip is detectable...) After some embarrassed initial rifling through my bag, one of the officers asked whether I'd agree to simply leave it with them. I can only imagine what happened to my items while they had it.In sum: after being greeted by the ominous and somewhat goofy portraits of George, Dick and Condi, it turned out that Americans couldn't help Chris. He'd have to get a new visa when he left Russia, which we all knew would be time-consuming and probably impossible. And, as you now know, I ended up fleeing the country w/o my brother. It also turns out that whether you actually receive the multiple entry visa after applying and paying for it is mostly miss than hit. (I spoke to a bunch of other folks who encountered the same problem as Chris had.)
Despite what the Marine on the first leg of my journey said, there were no mail order brides or their sketchy husbands trying to get approval to come stateside. However, I can't tell you the
number of brides there were running around St Pete's.Tradition dictates that you gather up your wedding party and a couple of bottles of champagne and get your picture taken at all 
the historic sites. You also have to chant KISS HER KISS HER (even I could translate that one) as loudly as possible and carry her over many bridges and things. While at Pushkin (one of the summer palaces), we counted no less than 15 brides, often featuring multiple parties converging at romantic-looking gardens and whatnot. And this is at 10 am on a Wednesday. Very odd stuff. Pimped out stretch limos also seemed to be the order of the day.
Anyway, our plans for two days outside Russia foiled by the bureaucracy, we had to find another place to stay. One of us insisted that one night in a hostel was MORE than enough, even if there was free breakfast, Something about the onslaught of mosquitoes, the horrible smell, slimy
bathrooms and sharing a room with strangers was wholly unacceptable, particularly since we were smart people and too old for this crap. Turns out that height of White Nights is not the best time to book a last minute reservation. So, after finding a small hotel, off we went. OK, I admit - I was a complete and total crank about the whole thing and Chris was right about bailing on the hostel, which was pretty bad. If you ever end up at the Northern Lights hotel (which you probably should consider), don't let the sandbags on the stairs, the dark stairwell, the weirdo smell or the leaking ceiling deter you. It's really a lovely place. With a great breakfast.
So, back to the sightseeing - Peterhof is spectacular, as was jetting over in a hydrofoil. (I'm working on a round up of how many different
forms of transportation I've used during my trip, so stay tuned!) The fortress of Peter and Paul and Church of the Spilled Blood (how great a name is THAT?!) are pretty cool too. The prospect of bathing on the Neva in front of the fortress, however, is disgusting, so I wouldn't suggest it, despite what the locals might do. We went to some sort of torture museum that was one of the most bizarre, somewhat upsetting things I've seen. Taking pics of torture devices -good or bad? Hmm) Those Austrians sure have disturbing methods and gadgets. I think that pretty well covers the last bit of sight seeing. I'm sure I'm forgetting to mention all sorts of important, awe-inspiring bldgs, but we'll all live.
My trip thus far can be summed up by visiting lots of churches/ religious institutions, seeing weapons and battlefields, drinking new kinds of beer and trying various kinds of food, evaluating branding strategies, modes of transportation and hotels/ hostels. So far so good. Now it's off to explore Holland Park and the rest of London.
the historic sites. You also have to chant KISS HER KISS HER (even I could translate that one) as loudly as possible and carry her over many bridges and things. While at Pushkin (one of the summer palaces), we counted no less than 15 brides, often featuring multiple parties converging at romantic-looking gardens and whatnot. And this is at 10 am on a Wednesday. Very odd stuff. Pimped out stretch limos also seemed to be the order of the day.Anyway, our plans for two days outside Russia foiled by the bureaucracy, we had to find another place to stay. One of us insisted that one night in a hostel was MORE than enough, even if there was free breakfast, Something about the onslaught of mosquitoes, the horrible smell, slimy
bathrooms and sharing a room with strangers was wholly unacceptable, particularly since we were smart people and too old for this crap. Turns out that height of White Nights is not the best time to book a last minute reservation. So, after finding a small hotel, off we went. OK, I admit - I was a complete and total crank about the whole thing and Chris was right about bailing on the hostel, which was pretty bad. If you ever end up at the Northern Lights hotel (which you probably should consider), don't let the sandbags on the stairs, the dark stairwell, the weirdo smell or the leaking ceiling deter you. It's really a lovely place. With a great breakfast.So, back to the sightseeing - Peterhof is spectacular, as was jetting over in a hydrofoil. (I'm working on a round up of how many different
forms of transportation I've used during my trip, so stay tuned!) The fortress of Peter and Paul and Church of the Spilled Blood (how great a name is THAT?!) are pretty cool too. The prospect of bathing on the Neva in front of the fortress, however, is disgusting, so I wouldn't suggest it, despite what the locals might do. We went to some sort of torture museum that was one of the most bizarre, somewhat upsetting things I've seen. Taking pics of torture devices -good or bad? Hmm) Those Austrians sure have disturbing methods and gadgets. I think that pretty well covers the last bit of sight seeing. I'm sure I'm forgetting to mention all sorts of important, awe-inspiring bldgs, but we'll all live.My trip thus far can be summed up by visiting lots of churches/ religious institutions, seeing weapons and battlefields, drinking new kinds of beer and trying various kinds of food, evaluating branding strategies, modes of transportation and hotels/ hostels. So far so good. Now it's off to explore Holland Park and the rest of London.
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