Cruise

So. The cruise went something like this:

Sunday, we boarded the ship (the St. Petersburg) at about six, and it left at about seven. It probably held about 200 people; the cabins smelled a little funny, and the bathrooms had an arrangement that involved screening off the toilet and then hosing yourself off in front of the sink in order to shower. Interesting.

That night we traveled up the Neva and part of the way across Lake Ladoga. We also learned that anything we might want to know about the cruise (there’s a meal now, this is tomorrow’s schedule, the souvenir kiosk is open these hours, the ship is leaving in ten minutes, there’s a master class on ballroom dancing in the disco-bar, the souvenir kiosk is now open, etc.) would be announced over the loudspeakers (which are everywhere, and loud). Repeatedly.

How we grew to hate the announcer-lady.

Monday we woke up relatively early (breakfast was at 8:30 or 9:15 every day), and stopped at a village whose name I don’t remember. If I did remember the name, I wouldn’t tell it to you; the place deserves to have its naming privileges revoked. It bears about the same resemblance to a traditional Russian village that a renaissance fair does to the middle ages. I think that actually covers it; I spent most of my time there skipping rocks.

Which reminds me: swimming is apparently a favorite Russian pastime (at least, away from the cities); we saw people swimming in various places all along the banks of the Neva, and there were beaches in every place we stopped. That said, the beaches are usually more about rocks than sand, and the water is cold. In the middle of the summer, the water is cold.

The weather was beautiful, though. It was clear and warm (a little bit hot, even) every day, and clear and cool (cold, since we were moving) every night. Plus, the northwestern Russian countryside is beautiful—forest as far as the eye can see. I thought I might take the opportunity, far from any light pollution, to get a really good look at the stars, but this didn’t work out as well as I might have liked. The sun set at 10:30 or 11:00, and at 1:30 it was still twilight. We’re well past the white nights now, but as far as I can tell twilight still lasts all night. Oh well.

Tuesday we stopped at Petrozavodsk (which is on a lake other than Lake Ladoga). ‘Petro’, from Peter I (who ordered the town built at around the same time as SPB), and ‘zavod’ from the Russian word for factory (which is apparently what the town was supposed to do). It was nice enough in spite of that; the residential section was very green. It was also very boring. We started the morning with a tour of...the city’s monuments. Sculptures, that is. God only knows why it has so many. After that, we had about fourteen hours to do I don’t know what. I spent some time sitting in one of the parks, and then a lot more time wandering around aimlessly. I think we were all a little concerned after those first two days.

The third day was better. Our stop was the island of Kizhi, which is home to the remnants of an old village, and a couple of very large wooden churches from the 17^th or 18^th century. Really—very big, lots of onion domes—at least, on the larger one. It is kind of leaning, though. The tour there was actually informative, and the island was very pleasant. A few wooden buildings (as previously mentioned), a swimming hole, some trees, and a few buildings way on the other side where all the people who maintain the island live. Unfortunately, we only had a few hours there—just enough time for me to find and annoy some sea birds.

In the evening, Anna Aleksandrovna (the director of the program) gave those of us who were willing to listen to it a lecture on Russian folklore and religion. After that, she came out onto the deck to discuss reading with us.

This is a metaphor. I did not invent it. I think at this point she has spent more time-per-person interacting with us over drinks than in any other setting. This may be an exaggeration, but it’s not a very large one.

The fourth day we visited a monastery near a ‘genuine Russian village’ (Anna Aleksandrovna’s words, translated), then spent some time hanging around said village. The village was basically a collection of houses in the middle (well, on the edge—of course it bordered the lake) of a forest. Among might be more accurate—the forest didn’t precisely end just because the village began; it just kind of gave way to underbrush. The houses were about evenly split between ones that were in terrible repair, and ones that looked more or less modern. Even some of the shabbier-looking ones tended to have things like satellite dishes, though. There were a lot of gardens, but not very many yards—grass (and weeds; lots of weeds) tends to be cut with a scythe. This was the case in Petrozavodsk, too—I saw several groups of city workers going around with scythes. Gas-powered mowers and weed whackers just aren’t common, I guess.

The last day we stopped on an island called Valaam, which is basically a large chunk of granite in the middle (near the top) of Lake Ladoga. It was great—all pine forest and rocky beach. I don’t think it has much of anything on it besides churches and monasteries. A couple of farms to support the monasteries, some seasonal residences for tour guides and people. Oh, and apparently an extension of the logging industry, which operates right next to the main monastery. Russia has such a beautiful countryside, and the Russians do such terrible things to it. I don’t think they’ve really developed any kind of environmental consciousness; I went a long way along the shore of Valaam, and I found bottles and bags and cigarette boxes along all of it. Ah, well. Valaam still nearly redeemed the trip by itself.

I’m really, really tired of tours, though.

That’s it. We got back to SPB this morning, and now I’m here writing. Or maybe in New York posting. I can almost taste the free wi-fi.

I can’t imagine how that would work.