We mustered in the theatre at the oddly ungodly hour of 8am in preparation for our full-day tour of St. Petersburg. Be it the air, the food, the drink, the gentle (and sometimes not so gentle) bobbing of the sea or just flat out exhaustion post-work now stopping, we are both sleeping so well and constantly feel a little tired.
I bet our fellow cruisers look on at our Cotton-wool headed state with amazement ...
"Isn't it incredible that those two young people with learning difficulties manage so well. They probably couldn't cope with a holiday with people of their own age? Oh look she's got her pudding & starter on the same plate!"
Anyway we managed to drag ourselves to the theatre, negotiated Russian passport control, located our coach and joined our elected guide for the day ... all without any help.
The morning was spent driving from spectacle to significant site and being dropped off for short periods to explore. For such things to work it is important that you have some sort of reference point or knowledge to refer back to. Despite the guides exceptional and extensive commentary my knowledge of Russian history was very poor. There is little to no reference made to Leningrad or the Communist times of the USSR. I was keen to pick up a piece of Communist propaganda, a postcard or badge, but it appears that it has been airbrushed from history ... at least the parts of history we were allowed access to today.
On official tours there is always that nagging feeling that everyone's on the make, that you are not always taken to the right places just the places that our right for the tour company or the family / friends of the guide?
"This is the best place to buy authentic Russian souvenirs, we shall spend half an hour here"
After spending a good percentage of our Roubles here only to find identical items being sold at half the price later on the street bazaars. On a plus note at least we are actually spending the blooming things, I think we both had visions of returning to the UK with them untouched & useless. Purchased with the best of intentions, but left out of pocket.
Lunch was included in our full-day and we were taken to an authentic Russian restaurant (probably brother-in-law of the driver); with authentic food (vegetable salad, beef stroganoff, apple tart) accompanied by a glass of authentic Russian fizzy plonk, with a performance by authentic musicians performing authentic songs and authentic dance in authentic dress, followed by authentic hard sell. It was all very authentic ... and was actually rather nice.
With a reported three million (or was it three billion) works of art curated by the Hermitage it was clear that we were not going to make even the smallest of indents in the three hours hours designating to visiting the biggest museum in the world. A lot of time was spent viewing significant pieces of Russian historical art, completely understandably. Then we marched part every significant artist from the seventeenth, eighteenth & nineteenth century- Monet, Gogan, Goya, Matisse, Renoir, etc. If you are deemed import then you were then, expect Van Goth.
We were unsure why Van was not represented, perhaps his work doesn't come up for sale very often and if it does it is beyond the Herms budget (sounds unlikely) As far as we could see, apart from a temporary exhibition of young Russian artists, the most modern artists represented were Picasso & Matisse, but how they was represented. Two dozen major works by each, donated to the Herm by two benefactors from their private collection. As in all things it was alluded that there was always the significantly more not on display.
By this point we were both spent, but there was one final part included in our trip, a short performance by a choral society, not something we could opt out of. My feet were heavy and my brain sluggish (high-lighted by tripping over a ruffle in the carpet and nearly falling flat on my face) as we entered the venue. The performance was very soothing and I felt myself drifting off, a deep jab in the ribs from my beloved curtailed any further contemplation of the performance with my eyes closed.
Pity those who had to then turn themselves around rapidly to head out to an evening at the ballet or a folk music performance, we just about managed to get to our cabin, splash some water on our faces and head up for tea. Clearly the Oriana knows it's clientele very well as it was British night which offered basic hearty (stodgy) food (not eight pints and a curry followed by a fight) Simple food for simple folks, just what was required. Very swiftly we were back in our cabin watching a movie which Liz dosed through and which I endured to the end but would struggle to retell if anyone cared to enquire about the story (Man. Talks too much. There's a tree. Leafs fall off tree. Man learns valuable lesson. Happy ever after. The End)
We fell asleep ...
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