Summer Solstice

I've often wondered if certain vacations ever end, or if they just get postponed for the future. As of tomorrow, St. Petersburg is going to need to be postponed until I learn Russian and figure out how to get back. But if I have my say, I will get back. These past several days have been continuous; literally, since the sun never sets during these White Nights. But all good things must come to an end, if it is only temporary, so tomorrow I will be going with my family back to Moscow, and then that evening Brian and I will be boarding a 21:30 train bound for иркутск (or, for you Risk lovers, Irkutsk), Siberia, Russian Federation.

I woke up this morning at 9, and had breakfast at 10. My mom yesterday bought sliced salmon and some cheese and we threw that on top of the bread the hotel provides for our meal. By 11 we were on the road.

Brian decided he wanted to use the morning to show us something he had found in some guidebook, or map, or somewhere. We walked for a while, and a little before noon we came accross a Synagogue. Built between 1888 and 1897, this synagogue is the second largest in Europe, after a synagogue in Budapest.

Czar Alexander II, in his great benevolence, as a gift to some Jewish friends who had helped him enormously, allowed a synagogue to be built in St. Petersburg. He allowed it to be built 43 meters high (as opposed to the 67 meters that churches could build to, as all buildings had to be shorter than the Winter Palace, the Hermitage). Today, there is no permanent membership in this synagogue, probably a product of WWII. There are about 100 jews that worship regularly at two other smaller synagogues, though, and during high holidays the 1200 seats in this building fill to capacity.

We followed a Russian tour group into the building, and the tour guide's voice wash meaninglessly over us as we took in the impressive inside.

We wandered into a small wedding chapel in one wing of the building, and there was a chupah waiting. My parents walked underneath and renewed their wedding vows.

We learned that one of the other synagogues was in a small building directly adjacent to this one. We went inside and walked around. There were several men praying in a second floor room, and they motioned to my brother to come pray with them. Brian refused, and we left. As we were walking out, a man stopped me with "Shalom!" I returned the greeting, and he, while holding my hand in a handshake, tried to take me with them to pray. I wanted to explain to him that we were in a hurry, and I think he saw it in my face, because I feel bad just leaving him, but we had to go...

It was 12:30 and we were on our way back to the metro. We stopped for some souvineer shopping, where I got several presents for friends back home, and made it to the metro at 2 (we were in the one part of town that just doesn't have a metro stop).

At 2:30 we reached Peter's House, again. We got in this time, though. Much to our surpise, however, the brick house pictured yesterday is NOT Peter's house. Catherine II built it over and around Peter's house. The actual house is far tinier; Peter's bedroom is probably the size of a small bathroom, and the whole house is easily the size of my bedroom and my brother's bedroom combined. The Czar of Russia lived in this house for six years? We had to pay another 200руб if we wanted to take pictures, so I took a few in haste when no one was looking.

Inside the brick building (but not the house itself) was a replica of a boat that Peter built. The original used to be housed there, but it has since been moved. The boat was the first boat of the Russian fleet, and Peter built it at the age of 19, my age. He knocked on a door and asked a man to open his barn. Inside was a boat in disrepair. Peter asked what it was. The man explained that it was a floating vessel that would move with wind power. He asked the man to take it down. The two of them, peasant and Czar, worked side by side and completed the boat.

At 3 we were inside the Communist CCCP museum. We wandered through a contradictory series of self-depricating evidence of the terrors of the USSR under Lenin, Stalin, and communism in general. It's incredible to know, for me, that the Russians are ready and willing to own up to the events of those several decades, the bad and the good together.

In the museum, there were several interesting things of note. For one, we stood inside Lenin's office. His real office, with a balcony from which he gave many speeches, and a large map of the Soviet Union behind him. We saw a replica of Stalin's office, complete with miniature bust of Karl Marx on the desk and tiny statue of Stalin on a bookcase. We saw propoganda posters and several very interesting cartoons of Hitler and paintings of Lenin. Pictured below is a painting of Lenin speaking from the balcony we stood right beside, and a propoganda poster declaring a parallel between the Russians of the Middle Ages fighting the Germans then, and then fighting them now. We aren't sure if it's "We beat them then, we can beat them again," or "We lost to them then, let's get revenge," but either way the point is the same.




We left the museum at 5 and ate at the Uzbek restaurant we saw yesterday. It turned out to be a half-Uzbek, half-Eurasian restaurant, leading to my appetizer of a sushi handroll and main course of a noodle soup. Brian and I got Tepemok for the last time in St. Petersburg (probably the last time in Russia, which is a sad thought).

At 7 we were in the Metro, and my dad got attacked by three pickpocketers. They were unsuccessful because Brian grabbed my dad's belt and yanked him backwards. DIR.

By 7:15 we were back in the hotel. At 10:30 we went out for a late dinner and hookah in a cafe accross the street from our hotel. We smoked and drank for two hours and got back to the hotel at half past 12.

We packed and prepared for our plane tomorrow. Bedtime was around 2:15.

ps. I may be out of touch for several days, as I do not know the status of internet access in Siberia or Mongolia. At the very latest, I will be heard from again on July 3, with many stories, I'm sure.