Waking up on the train the next morning I finally delved into my ‘train box’. All passengers get given one of these to last them the journey and they’re great. Each layer is intended for different stages of the train journey, so you’ve got the first layer as an evening snack, then the wash layer, followed by breakfast. It’s a bit like an entire flights worth of airport single serving meals at the beginning of the journey and having to ration yourself for the next 12 hours. As always, the cheese and biscuits went first.
The first day in St Petersburg was spent wandering the icy streets, visiting markets, museums and monasteries. The Neva River was also iced over but we did see one brave chap going for a swim in a hole and another braver or possibly drunker group driving across in a tiny Trabant car.
The next morning we got up early to get a full day in the Winter Palace and Hermitage. Being a bit of an art Philistine I’d not heard much about the Hermitage but once inside was stunned by the breadth of work on display. Older works by Leonardo da Vinci, Rubens, Rembrandt and Titian hung alongside Matisse and Picasso.
On loan were also Water Lilies by Monet and one of van Gogh’s Sunflower paintings. We also got to see a large collection of the intricately detailed Fabergé eggs.
That afternoon we headed down to the sea to find it also frozen over, allowing us to walk out quite some distance from the shore.
Our last day was spent at Catherine Palace in Pushkin, home to the summer residence of Catherine the Great. Originating in 1717 this is an extremely lavish 325 meter long palace built to impress the foreign ambassadors, ourselves included.
Finding it all a bit ostentatious we returned to St Petersburg via the apartments of Rasputin and attended a traditional music show. As usual this was very tiresome, until the interlude where we were introduced to Vodka Champagne cocktails. The second half passed in a much merrier fashion, culminating with two chaps on stage, one playing a huge Balalaika, the other playing a horn shaped like a male chicken. Hopefully the last time I pay money to see a man blowing a cock on stage.
The journey home was trickier than planned – the flight was overbooked and the plane was a couple of seats short. Of the four of us one had an operation the next day so got a ticket. Whilst two of us debated who was happy to stay another chap sidled over to the check in desk and took the last ticket without any discussion. Somewhat unimpressed we got the last laugh when the two of us were upgraded and sat in the row in front of him, enjoying free-flowing champagne and metal cutlery whilst he struggled to get the plastic lid off a beakers of water.
