Far from the Madding Crowds

In case I have not made something clear enough in previous posts, I will say it just once more - I do not like being part of a crowd. I don't like being herded like cattle. I don't like queuing for ages, just to see something, solely because it is supposed to be a tourist highlight. I certainly don't like following some flag carrying tour guide. I have always found the real pleasure in travel comes from unexpected moments in much quieter places. Over the years I have enjoyed amazing, but entirely unplanned, conversations with complete strangers. Most commonly these have occured while walking in parks or while sitting on a bench somewhere.

After the crowds we had encountered yesterday at the Peter and Paul Fortress and the Hermitage Museum, the last thing I needed today was another crush of people. I desparately wanted somewhere quiet - and I found one.

On our initial drive from the station to our hotel we had passed the huge military museum. It had an interesting array of artillery and missiles displayed out the front and the place had looked quiet. It looked the sort of place that the tourist buses avoid, in other words, my sort of place.

I guess I could have saved time by taking either the metro or a taxi, but I have always preferred to explore a city on foot. Even though I was still in a lot of discomfort (ie pain) with my stiff left knee, I hobbled off along the left bank of the Neva, past the two sphinxes (stolen from Egypt) , past the huge tall pirate ship (actually a fake tourist attraction) and onto the museum. I paid my 300 roubles entry fee (about $8) and started wandering the cavernous halls inside. I was almost the only one there, just what I had hoped for.

The displays covered everything from the medieval ages up to modern times. Although it was interesting to see how military technology had developed, I could not help but think of what a complete and utter waste the whole nature of war really is. After the long walk from the hotel I was feeling in need of a coffee and when I saw the Cafe sign, I decided it was time for a break. Even though I have only been in Russia for three days, I am starting to recognise the Cyrillic characters already and can actually understand quite a few of the common signs.

In the cafe I was thrilled to find that I was the only customer. I settled down with my latte and started to read more about the murders of Tsar Nicholas II and his family in 1918. I have always been intrigued with the story of Anastasia and the various legends about her escape. The true story really is quite horrific and, no matter how you feel about the excesses of the imperial rulers, no one actually deserves what happened to them.

After a couple of hours at the museum, I continued my walk to the sprawling Summer Gardens. In many ways they reminded me of the famous Tuileries in Paris. Lots of young couples were taking advantage of the glorious weather to carry out their courtship rituals in the park. Some things are the same the world over and the short summer is obviously the prime time for love.

I discovered a lovely cafe in a tented marquis and ordered Chicken Kiev. It seemed appropriate to have a Ukrainian specialty while in Russia. It was delicious and modestly priced. Just near the gardens my attention was caught by the onion shaped spires on the impressive Church of the Spilt Blood. I started to walk closer, until I noticed the jam of tourist buses and hundreds of tourists all heading in the same direction. It was even worse than the Hermitage. No church was interesting enough to entice me to go through that again.

I took a couple of photos from a distance and then headed in the opposite direction. It took some time to walk back to the hotel. When I checked my GPS it registered about 14 km, and that did not include all the walking I had done inside the military museum. It was a bit short of my normal 20 to 25 km, but considering that I was walking with a handicap, I thought it was not a bad effort.

After a short nap I went out for the final walk of the day - in search of dinner. I found a famous Scottish restaurant, not too away. It was called Macdonalds.

Tomorrow we begin the long journey home.Read more