A Bus Tour, Dostoevsky, and Shots on a Train

19 June

One of the peculiarities of this trip has been our oddly coordinated arrival times with regard to checking-in to our hotels. It may be that we’re coming and going at the only times available and I hope that’s the case. Today we can add checking-out to the list. You may remember that when we arrived at our hotel in UB, two of the rooms hadn’t been cleaned and that we arrived at our Moscow hotel several hours before our rooms were ready – storing our luggage then setting out as a group for a brief tour and orientation.

Tonight we leave for Saint Petersburg at 23:00. Like most hotels, checkout time at the Gamma Delta is noon. So again, we need to store our luggage. Unlike check-in though, because we’d checked out, the hotel (in typical Russian a la carte fashion) charged us a storage fee. It was a minimal fee to be sure but a fee, nonetheless. (Credit to the Michele in UB. To my knowledge, they didn’t charge an additional fee for storing our bags while we were at the Ger Camp. Or if they did, G paid it discreetly.) The day was free and our only requirement was to meet at the hotel no later than 21:00 leave for the train station.

I hadn’t made any plans so I rode the Metro to a stop near Red Square with Rose and Anne. They were planning to complete at least one circuit on one of the hop-on, hop-off city sightseeing buses. John and Anne had ridden it yesterday afternoon and, since the ticket was good for 24 hours, Anne planned to re-use her ticket as her primary transportation to a place or two she wanted to visit. This was a jaunt Rose had planned since our arrival. John, who had alternate plans, thoughtfully gave his ticket to Rose.

I stood with them at the stop vacillating between purchasing the 600 ruble twenty-four-hour ticket that I could use for four or five hours at best and simply finding some other way to pass the day. Rose then generously gave me John’s ticket saying that she’d planned on taking this ride regardless. I made a full circuit with Rose while Anne hopped off at the Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts. Though I ultimately chose not to visit any of the sites on this bus tour, I did learn more about Moscow and was able to take some good photos especially of the iconic St. Basil’s. This was particularly satisfying since the Red Square side of the building was blocked by a temporary stage for all three days of out visit.

Here are some facts you may not know about St. Basil’s: First, the official name for this church is: Church of the Intercession of Most Holy Theotokos on the Moat. It’s also known as Pokrovsky Church and as the Church of Saint Vasily the Blessed. Vasily anglicizes as Basil and, as we English speakers tend to do, we shorten it to St. Basil’s.

One reason the cathedral has so many names is that it was originally intended to be seven interconnected churches. The architects added an eighth for symmetry. One of the churches was the Church of the Holy Trinity on the Moat referring to a large moat that ran along the Kremlin wall for the full length of Red Square that was filled-in sometime in the early 19th century. The construction of the churches was ordered by Ivan the Terrible to commemorate the capture of Kazan in 1555. It was completed in 1561. True or not, one legend surrounding the church is that Ivan the Terrible ordered the architects blinded after construction was complete so they could never build anything more beautiful. Finally, the cathedral is said to mark the geometric center of Moscow while the Ivan the Great Bell Tower marks the geographic center. (In my photos you can see the ‘zero-mile marker’ which is just outside of Red Square – a bit north of St. Basil’s and a bit north and west of the Bell Tower.)

While on the bus, I was also able to snap this photo providing some perspective on the Kremlin’s size.

The building in the foreground just beyond the tall Vodovzvodnaya Tower is the Grand Palace of the Kremlin which has a closer view in the Moscow folder.

In the Moscow folder you can see pictures of marriage locks, and a statue honoring Ilya Repin. Repin was a leading artist of the Peredvizhniki – a group of artists who formed an artist’s cooperative that shortly became the Society for Traveling Art Exhibitions. Repin, who was influenced by the French Impressionists, never fully adopted their style. One of his most famous paintings is Barge Haulers on the Volga.

After completing the full circuit, I got off the bus and started walking along Tsverskaya Street. Lu told me about some pedestrian streets she and Ana had visited yesterday. This took me in the direction of the Museum of the Revolution which I thought I’d like to visit. These pedestrian streets were perfect for Lu and Ana – lots of very upscale shopping – but of little interest to me so I found a little restaurant to have a satisfying, if somewhat pricey lunch.

When I pulled out my map, two new destinations caught my attention: the Dostoevsky Museum Flat and the Jewish Museum and Tolerance Center. I knew of the great writer’s association with Saint Petersburg and anticipated a visit there but couldn’t imagine what I’d find in Moscow. So, in keeping with yesterday’s literary theme, I decided this would make a fine alternate. I took the Metro to Dostoyevskaya which was, despite being outside the city center and being one of the newer stations in the system, still quite impressive.

After twice walking past the unobtrusive entrance to the museum and asking several passersby, I finally met someone who spoke English. He was not only able to direct me to it, but was, in fact, going there himself.

Like the Tolstoy House, this museum required covered shoes. There was a guided student group tour to which my helper attached himself that I ignored because it was in Russian. There was no additional photography so I have many photographs. The place was mildly interesting. Dostoevsky’s father was a doctor working at the adjacent Mariinsky Hospital for the poor and Dostoyevsky was born here.The flat was part of his father’s compensation.

Against his father’s wishes, the young Fyodor often spoke with these poor patients as they stood in long lines waiting to see the doctor. It’s probable that he drew on their stories in the creation of his own. The flat’s recreated appearance is based on the descriptions of Dostoevsky’s younger brother Andrei. Dostoevsky lived in this apartment until he was sixteen when he was sent to military school in Saint Petersburg. As a child, Fyodor shared this room

with his older brother Mikhail. Fyodor slept on the chest.

When I left, I began seeking the Jewish Museum. When I’d looked at the map, I’d missed the arrow pointing to a location beyond its edge. Again, no one could help me. I spotted a fellow wearing a yarmulke. He, at least, knew what I was trying to find and it seemed that it was farther than I wanted to walk more off the beaten track than my comfort level allowed without the trusty Erin to guide me. So, I settled on returning early to the hotel and hanging out for a few hours until we had to leave for the train. Also, my cold symptoms had intensified a bit. I thought the rest might serve me well.

At about 19:00, Erin, John, Anne, Groud, and I went back to the kebab shop for another tasty, cheap, and filling dinner. This time Anne christened her shirt with a drippy stain. The rest of the crew trickled in and at the appointed hour we clambered onto the bus for the twenty-minute ride to the station.

After we’d all settled onboard, Groud produced a cake and she’d somehow magically acquired eight shot tumblers. We set up the spread and waited until the train was in motion before calling Erin in and presenting her with her little birthday surprise.

Rose cut the cake as I poured the shots. Water for Groud and Ana. Vodka for the rest of us. We gave the leftover cake to our provodnika. By a bit past midnight we’d polished off the vodka and were all ready to crash.

We all reflected that, in a nice bit of symmetry, we’d celebrated birth anniversaries for the eldest in our merry band – John who turned 75 on the eleventh in Lake Baikal close to our easternmost point in Russia – and Erin the youngest among us who turned 19 on the nineteenth – the night we were traveling to St. Petersburg, our westernmost point in Russia. I think we all began to feel a bit wistful, too, as we realized our journey together would soon reach its end.