St. Petersburg, Russia

Hank Shiffman Wyświetlono: 498 razy 2003-11-29 14:13:52

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Our arrival into the country was everything I could have expected. It took three hours for our coach to make its way across the border.
I hadn't planned to visit Russia. It just sort of happened. Faced with a six week sabbatical and enough airline miles to go most anywhere I wanted, I began investigating tours of Norway. I was also interested in seeing Tallinn in Estonia, after the recommendation of a Finnish colleague. And I found a tour that included both, one which also involved three nights in St. Petersburg. So, with the memories and fears of my Cold War childhood firmly under control I found myself on my way into the land of my grandparents and of my country's one-time great adversary.

Our arrival into the country was everything I could have expected. It took three hours for our coach to make its way across the border. The first hour and a half was spent at the Estonian border at Narva, where a single official two finger typed the relevant information from forty-six passports into his computer. Then, finally, across the bridge into Ivangorod. Where we waited while our tour guide negotiated with the Russian officials, who were insisting that we remove all of our belongings and carry them through for inspection. Although, we were led to understand, for a small compensation our way could be eased considerably. That compensation was not forthcoming. And eventually the official decided that examining forty-six sets of luggage just wasn't worth the effort.

My one regret about the border crossing is that cameras were a strict no-no. Because the scene was a familiar one to anybody who has seen Stripes or Spies Like Us. Although you haven't lived until you've seen a Russian soldier in camouflage fatigues and black pumps. She really made that outfit work...

Our first stop across the border was for a delayed picnic lunch. Our picnic grounds were a lay-by at the side of the road (I know, that's what a lay-by is!) with a ramp the locals can use to get under their cars to work on them. We stood around, eating our Estonian bag lunch, watching the decrepit trucks and buses drive by and wondering just what we'd gotten ourselves into.

Soon we were back on the road for St. Petersburg. And then came our next incident, as we were stopped for speeding by the dreaded traffic police. Again the negotiations, which began with an $80 fine and a threat to revoke the driver's license and ended when he agreed to pay a more reasonable fine of 73 rubles (about three dollars at current exchange rates).

We arrived in St. Petersburg without further official encounters, moving from its industrial and apartment block outskirts to the city proper. Where we saw our first sign of the old days: a Soviet-era office building with the requisite giant statue of Lenin. (The left turn arrows refer to traffic and not to politics.) I'm told that nearly all the Lenin statues are gone now. The ones I encountered in St.

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