Which palace?

As I mentioned in my last post, I have been trying to see a different suburban town every weekend.  In addition to the excursions our program arranges, a few of us have braved the marshrutka system to get outside of the city. First, we attempted to see the Fountain Ceremony at Peterhof, a week before our excursion there as a group. Every year, there is a ceremonial opening and closing of the fountains, and thousands of people come to celebrate. We hopped on a marshrutka, but, by the time we got there, the ticket booths had closed. After a few minutes, we realized that the police weren’t letting anyone in. Locals with tickets weren’t even able to enter (except, of course, if they knew the officer and had a thick wad of rubles)! Everyone outside the gates was frustrated, and one extremely inebriated woman was wailing and singing sad songs because she couldn’t see the fountains. 

However, about forty-five minutes later, the celebration ended with a stunning firework show. 

Then, crowds of people leaving the celebration pushed by us. In all the chaos, we were able to sneak through the crowds and catch a quick glimpse of the fountains before running back to the marshrutka stop. 

Since we were able to figure out the marshrutka system quite easily at Peterhof, we decided to wing our second adventure (bad decision). We wanted to go to Pushkin and see Catherine’s Palace/царское село. We asked a marshrutka driver (водитель), “Does this marshrutka go to Catherine’s palace?”. He assured us it went to the palace, so we paid and sat down. Almost two hours later, we stopped in a tiny village with a pretty, but rather shabby palace. The driver told us everyone had to get off the bus by an old train station. After a frustrating attempt at a conversation with the driver, we both realized there was a misunderstanding as to WHICH palace we wanted. Apparently, we were in Gatchina, or, as referred to it at the time, the absolute middle of nowhere! After convincing the driver to give us our money back, we franticly found a marshrutka to St. Petersburg and started the process all over again. Six hours later, we arrived in Pushkin, but unfortunately the palaces were closed. In retrospect, I am glad we took the wrong marshrutka because I got to enjoy some of the beautiful Russian countryside and a quaint town (once I knew where I was) that I wouldn’t have been able to see otherwise. 

Having learned my lesson, I am very proud that we did not get lost or get on the wrong marshrutka to our last solo adventure-Kronstadt. Kronstadt is a town on the island of Kotlin, 48 km west of St. Petersburg. It was closed to civilians for many years when it acted as a navy military base. It was just reopened in 1996! It is still the major seaport of St. Petersburg. St. John of Kronstadt also resided there for most of his life, so I was very interested to see where he lived etc. For a while, I wasn’t able to find anything particularly about him in the town until I met a really sweet elderly gentleman by a church. He gave us a full tour of the church and then directed us to St. John’s apartment. It was amazing being able to see where and how he lived!

This plaque says "commemorative museum/ apartment of the holy righteous St. John of Kronstadt". It is located right outside the apartment of St. John. I wasn't allowed to take pictures inside but seeing how he lived and his belongings was incredible.

Outside of the apartment was a small garden with a statue in honor of St. John.

There were anchors EVERYWHERE. Here I am standing by an anchor with the St. Nicholas Naval Cathedral in the background. The cupola even had anchors on it!

The port had a spectacular view of the Gulf of Finland. (Note the lunch bag packed with love by my host mom)

Also, on the way back from Kronstadt, I saw Russia’s version of an emergency exit. Instead of an emergency handle or window, this bus had an emergency hammer.

 In case of emergency, one is to break the glass with the hammer and climb through it. I giggled quietly to myself after realizing what it was and snapped a quick picture. I received yet another deadly Russian glare, but it was worth it. Tomorrow, I am attempting to go to Pushkin again (hopefully with more success) on a local bus. At least I know where the emergency exit is now!