Saturday saw us arriving in St Petersburg, bright and early. And by bright, I mean, I'm not actually sure we saw any darkness, 1am when we left the deck was still light and 6:00 when we got up it was even brighter! We were due off ship at 7:15 for our longest scheduled day of the cruise. With an all day excursion booked to visit the Peterhof Palace and Hermitage, then an evening out at the Ballet, it was a non-stop Russian extravaganza! (our feet were going to hurt!)
Up, showered, fed and ready to got at 7am, we were waiting, with much of the ship to get off and get on our way, but the port authorities were being slooooooooooooooow. Considering it really wasn't the first time the ship had docked at the port (nor was it the last scheduled) you'd think that there would be a good structure in place and a smooth liaison between all parties involved - oh no! the Russian's were taking nothing for granted and if anything appeared to be going out of their way to be as difficult as possible. Once the ship team was finally satisfied, we had to all get through passport control with our visas.
Goodness help us! we weren't the only ship trying to get through the authorities and they seemed to be a minimally staffed as possible and going at a pace which would rival a snail! So far, Russia was not making a good impression! By the time everyone got through passport control and on to the coach we were nearly 50 minutes behind schedule! Thankfully, we had a speedy coach driver and an excellent guide to pick us up and put us back on track for our day ahead.
It was about a 45 minute transfer out the palace of St Peterhof, famed as Russia's own Versailles, it is considered one of the pearls of the Baltic and the 'world's capital of fountains'. Our guide told us the history of the palace, from its creation under the visionary Peter I, to its completion by Peter's widow Catherine 1 and his niece Anna, to the nationalisation of the park and palace after the first world war and its destruction during world war II. It is a testimony to the Russian people that the decision was taken in 1948 to recreate Peter's masterpiece and the job they did! wow!
I knew a little of Peterhof's history, but had little idea of it's scale or design prior to the visit, but from the moment we stepped off the coach and rounded the corner to see the golden tips of the towers I was entranced. St Peterhof Palace is an architectural wonder. Although we should probably call it St Peterhof take two, of St Peterhof Palace; the facsimile years. But nevertheless, astounding, breathtaking, entrancing....these words do not justify the site we beheld.
As a tour group we got the bonus of being able to enter the palace before the general public and as such were able to enjoy it all in relative peace. Well, peace after we got through all the mayhem of having our bags checked for size (seriously paranoid) and putting on conservation booties over our outdoor shoes so we couldn't damage the parquet flooring. I get that they want to look after the palace having spent, frankly more money then I care to dream about on it! and I have no issue with good conservation practises but I do have issue with being treated like a brain dead tourist by over zealous room guides! If I glared half as much at visitors at the historic houses I work at as these ladies did, I'd be out of a job faster than I could say 'excuse me'. Clearly, customer service standards are different in this part of the world!
However, when I wasn't pulling faces back at the women on the velvet chairs I was more often then not staring up at the ceilings or cooing over some fabulous oriental styled furniture or best of all, elbowing Claire in the ribs was giggling with glee over a piece of Boulton ware! (to those of you who put up with my ramblings often enough to read posts about my work you'll understand my joy, for those who don't - just assume I'm a geek and you'll be fine). I wish I could share the magic of those rooms with you, but there is a strict no photography rule inside the building; however, you can take a virtual tour of some of the rooms on their website
here.
After an hour and a half or more inside the palace, we moved out into the majestic gardens that are world renowned. If you spent every day for a month walking these grounds, the chances are you really wouldn't see them all; but thankfully, our incredible guide managed to take us on a circular route that encompassed many of the lesser known areas of the grounds, which were breath-taking but also tourist free, as well as giving us the perfect view from the bridge looking back up the world famous sea canal to the Samson fountain.
I could wax lyrically about the Peterhof Palace for an entire entry in itself, but I figured that the few of you still with me and reading these entries would probably give up all hope and abandon me completely. So I'll simply finish and say, if you ever get the chance to go, do not think twice, do not shrug it off because it is not the original building - go! and spend as many hours as you can at the site, because there is no site in the UK that can compare and you would be hard pushed to find one in Europe that would rival it either (and from a girl that spends her days raving about the wonders of British estates and palaces, that is saying something!)
We left the Palace behind us to go in search of our lunch and were taking to a family run business about 20 minutes away. As we, and 5 other coaches, pulled in and unloaded to take over the restaurant, we found a modern, open plan establishment who were clearly used to mad tourists who could eat for England (pun intended). We were seated round large tables and set before us was 3 glasses; Water, Champagne and Vodka. Clearly they were intending on getting us drunk before we reached the Hermitage Museum in the afternoon - or maybe it was to fortify us for the experience (post visit, I'd say the latter). But whatever the reason, it was great! We were stuffed with four beautifully cooked courses and watched the various reactions of our fellow cruisers try and cope with the vodka - proper Russian, highly proofed, strong Vodka..... really should have brought a bottle home with me! Claire and I took it in true style, down in one - and no, we didn't say cheers as there is no Russian phrase for it, nor as a matter of practise do they make such toasts before drinking - so neither did we.
Fed, watered and possibly a tad merry we re-boarded the coach and headed back into St Petersburg, to the Winter Palace - part of the Hermitage Museum (which is made up of 6 buildings) is where we were bound next. Someone once worked out that to see it all you would have to walk 24 miles and if you spent 1 minute looking at every piece on display it would take you 5 years to see it all. And we were going to do it in 3 hours?! eek!
Our guides knowledge of art, architecture and history seemed to be never ending. She was funny, informative and brilliant at ensuring we saw all the major pieces of art before we left. We saw sculptures and porcelain, classical to modern artists and everything in between whilst still gawking at ceilings, floors and the general splendour of one of Russia's most famous - or should that be infamous?!- palaces.
The Hermitage was packed - moving around was hard work and a soaring temperature up into the high 20 or low 30 degrees C was making for an uncomfortable experience for many. Nevertheless, our guide kept us all together, moving and I think for most of us, happily engaged too. Claire and I did manage to loose her once, but not for long - we'd been admiring a sculpture, turned round and lost sight of her! eeek! but our radio audio system was picking her up, so at least she was nearby - in fact she was in the adjoining room, panic over. This was not somewhere I would want to get lost in!
By the time we got through all the classical sculptures and major artwork of the 'greats', probably two thirds of our group looked ready to sit down and not move, or pass out and our guide recognised this. She offered to take those that wanted a rest back to the start, where there was seating and take those who remained up to see the final gallery of art. From the party, only 11 of us stuck it out for the final part of the tour, and we went to see the work of the greats like Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh and Matisse - and the best bit was, the Hermitage's permanent collection was on loan to the main museum in Amsterdam at the time and so there was a special display of the hidden art of the Hermitage which had never previously been shown before, and we got to see it!
We finished our visit to the Hermitage with a quick run through a gallery which houses one of the two complete royal dinner services by Wedgewood. They are highly prized in Russia for the quality of the workmanship but are equally prized by British academics as they portray scenes of major English estates and properties which no longer exist.
5 o'clock saw us leaving the Hermitage and finally heading back to ship - nearly an hour later than was scheduled (not that we were complaining). Our guide had been exceptional all day and the Palaces were mind-blowing. But the day wasn't over and we had to get ready and back out for the Ballet. As we pulled back into the port we readied ourselves to make a quick turn around to be back out on time, only passport control decided to thwart that plan. It took us nearly 25 minutes to get through again and back on to the ship. I swear you've probably never seen us run so fast in our lives. Through the ship security, sprint up two flights of stairs and I jumped into the shower first whilst Claire pulled out our dresses, shoes, bags and jewellery. Speedy shower done, I changed places with Claire and simultaneously threw together our tickets, passports, room and ID cards whilst dropping everything else back in the safe and trying to tackle my hair.
There wasn't time to even attempt to dry it, but then again, it was so hot outside that the chances were it would be dry before too long anyway, but it needed to look elegant, neat and not leave a water stain on my dress - so up it went in a twist of braids into a bun as Claire also pulled hers back in a cute twist ponytail. Some sparkle in the forms of clips and grips and that was the best we were going to do. Dresses on, make up was applied at lightening speed and the jewellery added for the finishing touch. Feet shoved in shoes we had about 5 minutes spare to go and grab a large glass of water from the Lido deck before once again heading out to do battle with the passport control and be on our way to the ballet. Dinner was going to have to wait til we got back.
35 minutes after getting back on board ship we walking out of the terminal in search of our coach again. It was sweltering hot and we were flushed from our manic turn around but the ballet was calling! Oh the ballet in Russia, acclaimed as the best in the world it was due to be a magical evening and a memory to last a life time. We passed Daniel, Jenny and Craig from the show team on our way to the coach - they were dressed in the finest and it appeared they were going to be joining us at the theatre, as a travelling group of Russian performers were taking over the stage on ship for the night.
We took our seats and waited for the last of our coach to arrive and were just about ready to head off when Dan, head of excursions, (yes far too many Dan's and Daniel's on this cruise) jumped on the coach to say that they had received a message from the Ballet company about an hour before to say that the prima ballerina had been injured during rehearsals and that they would not be able to perform swan lake that night, but instead they were going to perform Sleeping Beauty as it had a different female lead. If anyone wanted to cancel their trip, booking only because of the listed show, then they could and would be fully refunded. No one moved. No one cared. Everyone had booked for the same reasons as us, it was the Russian Ballet, in Russia!
Great. On with the show!
We arrived at the theatre and were told that the start time was also going to be later than originally programmed. Umm, ok, but there is nothing to do whilst we waited. Thankfully for us, a couple that we'd spent a lot of time talking to in the Hermitage that afternoon were also there and so we struck up an easy conversation whilst we waited to be herded in to our seats. 40 minutes or so passed in good company and we finally made our way in to the theatre. Far from the grandest I've had the pleasure of sitting in, it had a drab austere feel to it due to its redesign during soviet rule - which they had never bothered to change. Ce la vie, on this occasion I really wasn't bothered about the architecture.
With a few minutes to go Claire and I were speculating as to why the entire row behind us was still empty. The answer arrived a few moments later in the form of the show team, who settled in behind us. The curtain went up and the traditional hush of anticipated silence fell over the several hundred strong audience and the music reverberated round the theatre.
I wish I could gush about the ballet, the perfection of the dancers, the splendour of the costumes and the breathtaking sets. But that would be a stretch, even for my active imagination. It was a disappointment. The dancers weren't in time, the costumes were old fashioned - its not that they were traditional, that I have no issue with - but they weren't even that! the set was ok, but I've seen better. By the interval I was wondering what an earth all the fuss had ever been about.
We headed out to the atrium for our champagne and propped up a wall whilst we drank and both commented on how disappointed we were. We were joined shortly after by most of the show team, who were paid complement to for their attire - they all looked stunning, before talking about how let down we felt by the performance. They, thank goodness, were in the same mind as us and we soon compared notes on other ballets we'd seen. Now Claire and I are spoilt living just outside of Birmingham, as we often go and see the Birmingham Royal Ballet perform. All I will say is that even on a bad day, they would outclass the Russian company.
As we finished up our drinks, Robyn came round with the 'spare' glasses that hadn't been drunk and we hastily finished round two before returning for the second act. The second half was better and the lead male who took the role of the Prince was fantastic, but even he couldn't make up for the bitter disappointment I felt - so much for being the best in the world!
We left the theatre and were shuttled back to the port, by which time I was hungry, my feet were really painful and were making it known and I was feeling aggravated by the heat. What I really didn't need was the port authorities being arses. But they were. We had three people checking our passports (again!) and nearly 500 passengers trying to get back on board ship. After 20 minutes I was fed up, at 35 I was ready to scream and by 55 minutes when we finally were seen I was ready to explode. I wasn't hungry any more, I just wanted something very strong and alcoholic to numb the pain in my feet.
Claire offered to go and get whisky from the cabin as I went straight up to deck with my shoes in hand. As I took a seat, it was clear from the lack of anyone around that most of the ship was outside still trying to get through the passport control or all ready in bed, resting up for the next day. Claire arrived with the much needed stiff drink and said she was going to see what was still available to eat and she'd back shortly. Not 5 minutes had passed and she said that Alistair was down in the Lido restaurant and had was happy for us to join him whilst he too ate something. Struggling to put the shoes back on I wandered down with Claire and we grabbed a plate of food and joined Alistair, filling him in on what had happened.
As we finished our meals, Alistair announced he wanted a drink and to be honest, we both needed another one to unwind. So we wandered upstairs again and taking seats on the deck ordered in drinks and talked about every day things; schooling, family, music. By the time we parted company I was feeling significantly less wound up but my feet were still screaming (stress fractures will never properly heal and always cause you pain when you least want them to!) and bed was all I wanted. Thank goodness we weren't off ship til the afternoon the next day because there would be no way I would be smiling if there was.
We crashed for the night, changing the alarm clocks so we could have a lie in (we hoped) and passed out about 2:30am. The day had been a real emotional roller coaster - St Peterhof and the Hermitage were all we hoped for and more, the port authorities and the ballet were a real let down. Who knew what the next day would have in store?!
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