Arriving in Saint Petersburg on Saturday the 26th of May is not quite like arriving anywhere else in Russia. Saint Petersburg has long been considered a kind of anti-Russia - the epicentre for each trend or revolution that goes on to sweep the rest of the country, only when it gets that far STP will have moved on. The Bolshevik revolution was seeded here, as was the anti-bolshevik movement, and so on until now when they don't quite like Putin.
On the other hand, arriving here is probably quite like arriving anywhere else in Russia for the reason that we almost crashed on final approach. Coming in low about 2 minutes before landing the nose of our plane suddenly dipped down and the aircraft seemed almost vertical for a second. Everyone screamed for all of that second until the pilot opened the throttle and the aircraft screamed back as the stall was corrected. Scariest moment for me on a plane...! On landing successfully everyone aboard clapped. We thought this was because of the near-death experience but apparently Russians do that all the time. Maybe we would too if we had to fly Aeroflot...
We're not really here for touring, but that will definitely happen - this is one of the most beautiful cities in Europe with rich and deep history and amazing architecture - Russia's 'window on the west'. We're 'officially' here to visit the branch and pick their brains on some of their technical expertise. After queueing for what feels like an eternity but is really only 45 minutes to get through passport control, Ilya from Bethel computer dept meets us and looks nothing like his photo in real life. I say this by way of excuse for the fact that I didnt recognize him and only asked his name 10 minutes into the drive, at which point he said 'Luke, it is me, Ilya!'. To be fair, we have only ever communicated over IRC and I wasnt sure that he was fetching us at the airport. Introductions aside, we hit it off thereafter and he took us back to Bethel via the scenic route, which included driving down Nevsky Prospekt - the main road through the center of the city, past the Seige of Leningrad monument - in typical soviet grey-stone-square-jaw-rifle-and-plough style - as well as some of the many cathedrals that characterize the city, the Church of the Spilled Blood, St Isaac's Cathedral, The Peter and Paul Fortress, etc, all breathtaking and reminiscent of Peter the Greats' desire for this to be the greatest city in Russia. The sun is shining today.
Bethel is as Bethel's are - clean, beautiful, and smiling faces all round. I will spend my two days of work here in a classroom with Ilya, Sergey Polyakov (who translates for me), another bro named Yuri and three brothers from outside of Bethel who are in video conference with us from Moscow, Odessa and Ukraine branch. Sini will work with Yulia doing guest rooms. So, me with Sergey, Sini with Yulia. Last names are very important here. For example, on one occasion I needed to get hold of Sini during the day since we were to be given a brief tour of the branch. I went down to home reception to see if they would know where Sini was working. The exchange I had with the brother at the front desk (who, incidentally, looks EXACTLY like Kenneth from '30 Rock') went something like this:
Me: I need to find my wife, Sini. Do you know where she might be?
Reception Br: Who she is working with?
Me: She's working with Yulia
Reception Br: Yulia who?
Me: I'm not sure. How many Yulias are there?
Reception Br: 14.
Me: Ok then. Oh well, if she calls here looking for me, please put her through to me. I'll be with Sergey.
Reception Br: Sergey who?
Me: Ah.
Turns out, if you need to find someone but don't know their name, you have a good chance of finding them if you guess either Yulia or Sergey.
Before we get down to working though, we spend Sunday visiting Peterhof Palace at Petergof. Getting there is fun in itself - it's orientation day, folks! We don't understand the writing and we know virtually no Russian. However, we manage to catch the train in to the city, and the subway to Nevsky Prospekt where we will walk to the Hermitage Museum and take the Hydrofoil to Petergof. The St Petersburg Subway is the most beautiful subway I have ever been in. The opulence begins with the longest escalator that runs deep down under the city to the station with its marbeled floors, sculpted columns and nouveau light fittings.
Peterhof is an incredible piece of work, built by Peter the Great and used extensively by him to show off. The massive palace grounds are beautifully maintained and lush with manicured gardens and forests. The main palace is also breathtaking. From the gold center-piece fountains depicting Peter's victory in battle over Sweden to the palace facade it is absolutely stunning: ornate, opulent, no expense spared, and, unfortunately, almost a complete reconstruction. This is because of World War 2. Hitler had planned have the victory bash for conquering Russia held here, and had lavish invitations drawn up and sent to his friends, however prematurely. One of these invitations made it's way to Stalin, who wasnt having any of that and promptly blew up the Peterhof himself - the ultimate party-pooper. So much of what is here was put back together in the last 40 years. Nevertheless, it was well worth the visit.
The trip back to Bethel was educational for the nuances of the Russian language that we learned. Bethel is in a small town outside of Saint Petersburg called Solnichnoye. To get there from Petergof was simple enough - we took a Mashrutka (mini-bus) from Petergof to Avtovo subway station, subway to Ploschad Lenina, then a short walk from there to the train station to buy two train tickets to Solnichnoye. This is where the wheels briefly fell off. At the ticket desk, my conversation with the ticket sales-lady went something like this:
Me: Sol-nich-noy-ye, Spa-see-ba (thank you), (holds up two fingers in the universal sign for two).
Ticket Baboushka: Eh?
Me: (brief pause). Sol-nich-noy-ye. (two fingers again - slower this time).
Ticket Baboushka: (Blank stare, trying to read my lips).
Me: (slower and louder, in the universal method for asking 'what part of Sol-nich-noy-ye did you not understand?') Sol - nich - noy - ye.
Drunk behind me: Zyol-nyeech-nai-ye!
Ticket Baboushka: Aaaah! Zyolnyeech!
Me: Da! Iz-ve-nyeeda! Ya pluhka govariyo pa Ruskiya (Yes! Sorry! I can't speak Russian).
Ticket Baboushka: Eh?
Me: Nevermind.
We got the tickets, but still had to spend a couple of minutes deciphering the cyrillic on them to figure out what train to take.
Visiting Bethel is always a wonderful experience. We spent some days with the brothers, and especially with Ilya and Natascha, and Sergey and Anastasia. It's always amazing how distance, language and culture is no obstacle in instantly making friends. The few days we spent with them were not enough and we will have to plan another trip here, and a longer stay.
We leave the branch on Wednesday 30 May, and it's raining. Sergey (not to be confused with Sergey) drives us into Leningrad centre. We call it Leningrad now because it seems to fit better in the gloomy grey. Saint Petersburg is a sunny city. We will spend this day touring the Hermitage Museum - formerly the Winter Palace of (guess who?) Peter the Great, and home to hundreds of priceless works of art by everyone from the ancient Egyptians to Raphael and Michealangelo to Matisse and Picasso.
We don't have enough time for this - it would take days to see it in it's entirety, but we have a plane to catch to Helsinki and still have to make our way to the airport - and it's bitterly cold outside. This is supposed to be summer, for crying out loud. If this is the summer, it's easy to understand how every invader has gotten fed-up with the Russian winter. We were informed by various locals that the Russian summer is very short. Last year it was on a Wednesday. So, in the driving rain and icy wind we make our way through the narrow streets, past St Isaacs Cathedral of the Sacred Blood of Peter and Pauls Immaculate Conception of Our Lord, or something like that, manage to find our way by subway and bus to the airport, and get there in time to be an hour early for the flight check-in time, and be told 'Nyet! No check-in now. Must wait one hour!'.
So we spend one hour experiencing a Russian (or maybe European) decadence: Hot Chocolate. In Saint Petersburg, it is what it says. It's chocolate, but hot. No milk, water or anything to adulterate it. It is literally thick, pure, dark, creamy delicious chocolate, melted into a mug. I feel sick afterwards.
But not sick enough to not want to come back here.
On to Finland and Spain.
On the other hand, arriving here is probably quite like arriving anywhere else in Russia for the reason that we almost crashed on final approach. Coming in low about 2 minutes before landing the nose of our plane suddenly dipped down and the aircraft seemed almost vertical for a second. Everyone screamed for all of that second until the pilot opened the throttle and the aircraft screamed back as the stall was corrected. Scariest moment for me on a plane...! On landing successfully everyone aboard clapped. We thought this was because of the near-death experience but apparently Russians do that all the time. Maybe we would too if we had to fly Aeroflot...
We're not really here for touring, but that will definitely happen - this is one of the most beautiful cities in Europe with rich and deep history and amazing architecture - Russia's 'window on the west'. We're 'officially' here to visit the branch and pick their brains on some of their technical expertise. After queueing for what feels like an eternity but is really only 45 minutes to get through passport control, Ilya from Bethel computer dept meets us and looks nothing like his photo in real life. I say this by way of excuse for the fact that I didnt recognize him and only asked his name 10 minutes into the drive, at which point he said 'Luke, it is me, Ilya!'. To be fair, we have only ever communicated over IRC and I wasnt sure that he was fetching us at the airport. Introductions aside, we hit it off thereafter and he took us back to Bethel via the scenic route, which included driving down Nevsky Prospekt - the main road through the center of the city, past the Seige of Leningrad monument - in typical soviet grey-stone-square-jaw-rifle-and-plough style - as well as some of the many cathedrals that characterize the city, the Church of the Spilled Blood, St Isaac's Cathedral, The Peter and Paul Fortress, etc, all breathtaking and reminiscent of Peter the Greats' desire for this to be the greatest city in Russia. The sun is shining today.
Bethel is as Bethel's are - clean, beautiful, and smiling faces all round. I will spend my two days of work here in a classroom with Ilya, Sergey Polyakov (who translates for me), another bro named Yuri and three brothers from outside of Bethel who are in video conference with us from Moscow, Odessa and Ukraine branch. Sini will work with Yulia doing guest rooms. So, me with Sergey, Sini with Yulia. Last names are very important here. For example, on one occasion I needed to get hold of Sini during the day since we were to be given a brief tour of the branch. I went down to home reception to see if they would know where Sini was working. The exchange I had with the brother at the front desk (who, incidentally, looks EXACTLY like Kenneth from '30 Rock') went something like this:
Me: I need to find my wife, Sini. Do you know where she might be?
Reception Br: Who she is working with?
Me: She's working with Yulia
Reception Br: Yulia who?
Me: I'm not sure. How many Yulias are there?
Reception Br: 14.
Me: Ok then. Oh well, if she calls here looking for me, please put her through to me. I'll be with Sergey.
Reception Br: Sergey who?
Me: Ah.
Turns out, if you need to find someone but don't know their name, you have a good chance of finding them if you guess either Yulia or Sergey.
Before we get down to working though, we spend Sunday visiting Peterhof Palace at Petergof. Getting there is fun in itself - it's orientation day, folks! We don't understand the writing and we know virtually no Russian. However, we manage to catch the train in to the city, and the subway to Nevsky Prospekt where we will walk to the Hermitage Museum and take the Hydrofoil to Petergof. The St Petersburg Subway is the most beautiful subway I have ever been in. The opulence begins with the longest escalator that runs deep down under the city to the station with its marbeled floors, sculpted columns and nouveau light fittings.
Peterhof is an incredible piece of work, built by Peter the Great and used extensively by him to show off. The massive palace grounds are beautifully maintained and lush with manicured gardens and forests. The main palace is also breathtaking. From the gold center-piece fountains depicting Peter's victory in battle over Sweden to the palace facade it is absolutely stunning: ornate, opulent, no expense spared, and, unfortunately, almost a complete reconstruction. This is because of World War 2. Hitler had planned have the victory bash for conquering Russia held here, and had lavish invitations drawn up and sent to his friends, however prematurely. One of these invitations made it's way to Stalin, who wasnt having any of that and promptly blew up the Peterhof himself - the ultimate party-pooper. So much of what is here was put back together in the last 40 years. Nevertheless, it was well worth the visit.
The trip back to Bethel was educational for the nuances of the Russian language that we learned. Bethel is in a small town outside of Saint Petersburg called Solnichnoye. To get there from Petergof was simple enough - we took a Mashrutka (mini-bus) from Petergof to Avtovo subway station, subway to Ploschad Lenina, then a short walk from there to the train station to buy two train tickets to Solnichnoye. This is where the wheels briefly fell off. At the ticket desk, my conversation with the ticket sales-lady went something like this:
Me: Sol-nich-noy-ye, Spa-see-ba (thank you), (holds up two fingers in the universal sign for two).
Ticket Baboushka: Eh?
Me: (brief pause). Sol-nich-noy-ye. (two fingers again - slower this time).
Ticket Baboushka: (Blank stare, trying to read my lips).
Me: (slower and louder, in the universal method for asking 'what part of Sol-nich-noy-ye did you not understand?') Sol - nich - noy - ye.
Drunk behind me: Zyol-nyeech-nai-ye!
Ticket Baboushka: Aaaah! Zyolnyeech!
Me: Da! Iz-ve-nyeeda! Ya pluhka govariyo pa Ruskiya (Yes! Sorry! I can't speak Russian).
Ticket Baboushka: Eh?
Me: Nevermind.
We got the tickets, but still had to spend a couple of minutes deciphering the cyrillic on them to figure out what train to take.
Visiting Bethel is always a wonderful experience. We spent some days with the brothers, and especially with Ilya and Natascha, and Sergey and Anastasia. It's always amazing how distance, language and culture is no obstacle in instantly making friends. The few days we spent with them were not enough and we will have to plan another trip here, and a longer stay.
We leave the branch on Wednesday 30 May, and it's raining. Sergey (not to be confused with Sergey) drives us into Leningrad centre. We call it Leningrad now because it seems to fit better in the gloomy grey. Saint Petersburg is a sunny city. We will spend this day touring the Hermitage Museum - formerly the Winter Palace of (guess who?) Peter the Great, and home to hundreds of priceless works of art by everyone from the ancient Egyptians to Raphael and Michealangelo to Matisse and Picasso.
 |
| Picasso - The Absinthe Drinker |
We don't have enough time for this - it would take days to see it in it's entirety, but we have a plane to catch to Helsinki and still have to make our way to the airport - and it's bitterly cold outside. This is supposed to be summer, for crying out loud. If this is the summer, it's easy to understand how every invader has gotten fed-up with the Russian winter. We were informed by various locals that the Russian summer is very short. Last year it was on a Wednesday. So, in the driving rain and icy wind we make our way through the narrow streets, past St Isaacs Cathedral of the Sacred Blood of Peter and Pauls Immaculate Conception of Our Lord, or something like that, manage to find our way by subway and bus to the airport, and get there in time to be an hour early for the flight check-in time, and be told 'Nyet! No check-in now. Must wait one hour!'.
So we spend one hour experiencing a Russian (or maybe European) decadence: Hot Chocolate. In Saint Petersburg, it is what it says. It's chocolate, but hot. No milk, water or anything to adulterate it. It is literally thick, pure, dark, creamy delicious chocolate, melted into a mug. I feel sick afterwards.
But not sick enough to not want to come back here.
On to Finland and Spain.
