21 June part dva.
Our farewell dinner.
Expecting that I’d want to take as full advantage as possible of the cultural opportunities offered in Saint Petersburg during the White Nights, I’d purchased a ticket to a show of folk song and dance called “Feel Yourself Russian.” But, the theater was even farther than the Mariinsky and with all the walking I’d already done during the day combined with my cold and the residual discomfort from the Lake Baikal incident despite whoever’s pain killers I was using, I couldn’t envision myself walking that far or paying for a round trip cab fare that would have been more costly than the ticket. In addition, attending the show would have meant missing our group’s farewell dinner. So, I chose not to Feel myself Russian, keep the ticket as a souvenir, and share a last communal meal with our happy group.
Groud had a place in mind for dinner but when she went there, she found they couldn’t (or perhaps wouldn’t) accommodate a party of eight. She eventually found a place that agreed to seat us but insisted we had to sit at two separate tables. This appealed to no one because the purpose of the farewell dinner was to dine together. I offered to walk with her back to the restaurant to see if we could convince them otherwise if she’d accompany me to a pharmacy to buy some aspirin. (I’d done so on my own earlier in the trip but ended up with an Alka-Seltzer like dissolvable tablet of aspirin and vitamin C when I’d wanted plain tablets.)
We had a few minutes before we started on our joint mission and in that break I had some time to reflect on the irony that I had spent so much of my time in Moscow seeing graveyards and places associated with the literary giants Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. Then I came to Saint Petersburg and failed to visit any of the city’s Dostoevsky related sights including the apartment and museum where he lived when he wrote The Brothers Karamazov and his grave at the Tikhvin Cemetery with the latter easily reachable by walking fewer than three kilometers east on Nevsky from our hotel and the former even closer.
(Photo of Dostoyevsky’s gravesite from Find a Grave by Morteza Dezfouli.)
Ah, well.
Our agreement was in place so G and I set out on our mission. The second part was successful. The first failed. Buying regular aspirin proved relatively easy. Convincing a Russian restaurant manager to change his mind and put our tables together was, to borrow a phrase, “Absolutely impossible.” We cancelled the reservation and he lost the chance to serve eight dinners.
While we were walking about, I repeatedly stressed to G that the place we ate was of far less import than the chance to share a last meal as one group so I asked her to bear with me while I tried something else. I had in mind a restaurant more or less directly across the street from the hotel. Russian food was not going to be its specialty but again, this was unimportant and we’d probably all had our fill of that particular cusine. We went in, talked to the manager, and reserved a table for 19:00. If you haven’t peeked at the folder with the photos of Nevsky Prospekt, this was where we ate:.
I chose it for its proximity and because I assumed it could accommodate even the pickiest eater among us. This meant our tour had served up two firsts for Groud in her experience as a tour leader. The first happened way back in China when she (we?) temporarily misplaced Erin. The second was that she’d never had a traveler help her choose a restaurant for a group meal.
In the time between making the reservation and our actual dinner, we returned to the hotel and, as I sat in the common area, I had another chance to talk with Elizabeth and her mother who were just returning from their day’s activities. We recounted our respective days – they’d gone on something of an educational scavenger hunt – and you already know (in possibly excruciating detail about my day). Elizabeth’s mother joined in the conversation occasionally and confirmed my morning impression that she was a bit of a stern taskmaster. It seems she’s of the opinion that everything must have a purpose or it’s not worth pursuing.
When dinner time rolled around, Ana was sleeping so we started the meal with seven. For the first time since we’d arrived in Russia and dined as a group, everyone received the meal they ordered. The conversation flowed easily as we shared common memories and individual experiences from our journey together.
Someone, I don’t recall who, asked for the single highlight. The consensus choice was the day and night in Terelj. I had difficulty pinning down a single specific moment because while I, too, had enjoyed Terelj immensely, the afternoon with Erin, Tolstoy, and Fellini in Moscow will continue to release endorphins whenever I remember it. I chose instead to salute the camaraderie of the group, which truly had done so much to enhance my experience that I had to include it among my highlights. Ana eventually joined us albeit a bit late and when she ordered dinner a few of us ordered dessert so she would be eating alone. Rose and I shared a cannoli.
One final adventure
Today is the solstice – the longest day of the year – and Groud helped arrange a midnight cruise (and got us a bargain price to boot). Six of us went. Ana was still tired and “the cold” had Lu firmly in its grasp so she also opted out. We walked along Nevsky past the Anchikov Bridge
before boarding the boat.
The night became a bit chilly particularly after we exited the canal and maneuvered onto the river but we’d dressed warmly in anticipation of that and the boat promised blankets for all. I kept mine until I stood to take a picture. When I stood up, I let the blanket fall to the deck and the nasty French woman sitting behind me and who’d already loudly complained about the behavior of at least three other people on the boat appropriated it. I was sitting between Erin and Rose and they each shared their blankets with me thereby saving me from becoming both too chilled and from a potentially embarrassing confrontation. Exhaustion finally overtook Groud, who’d come along despite her cold, and she dozed periodically throughout the duration of the ride.
The ride was another spectacular event despite the chill. The truth is, though G had gone to some length to have us cruise on a boat where the guide spoke English, I don’t think any of us paid much attention to her comments about Saint Petersburg sights and history. We were too enthralled by the sight of the city aglow in celebration of the solstice, the occasional bursts of fireworks, the revelers on other boats, the drawbridges opening, and an ersatz sunset at about 02:00 that never really darkened the sky. This is the last photograph I shot in Saint Petersburg:.
Though I think they barely begin to do justice to the experience, these are the preceding twenty-seven from the midnight cruise.
As all things must, the cruise came to an end and we found ourselves back on the land. We tromped slowly back to the hotel each of us wondering, I think, how we would sleep tonight and reluctantly pondering the sundering of our fellowship on the morrow.