St. Petersburg, Russia: Day Four, Part One

Armenian Church

With no clock, it’s hard to know what time it is.  Which has no real importance except to know when to get started doing things.  Nothing seems to open here before 10:00, so when I find the breakfast room packed, I go back to my room and read... then make a second attempt after a chapter of Bérézina.

Fabergé Museum

       I have the menu down now.  Don’t bother with the “scrambled” eggs - they’re really a flan - but get some crêpes and watermelon, some ham and cheese slices and juice - tea’s for later.
       Then it’s off!  Lots to see on my last full day here!

First a stop in the Armenian Church on Nevskiprospekt.  It’s blue and white outside, rather plain inside.  And the two priests are just about to say Mass.  I remember my scarf, although belatedly. Besides me, there are only two men in the church.  One just sits; the other stands and crosses himself relentlessly.  An ex-priest?
       The chanting is a nice way to start a day, but my list is long.  So off along Nevskiprospekt to the next canal.

Bay Tree

       And here is where I define a New Rule of Travel, as it would have spared me almost an hour and a mile:   From now on, I shall note times down 10:00 and not just 10, and addresses shall all be given a hashtag, as in #21.  That way I would have known that the Fabergé Museum is at Number 21 on this street, not Number 10, which is the time it opens. Lucky for me the second lady I stop knows where it is and has some notions of English.  So I cross back over the canal and walk all the way back almost to Nevskiprospekt.  Like I said, an hour lost and a mile walked, for nothing.
       The museum, a bargain at under $10, was once a noble’s mansion and is as ornate as befits Fabergé’s eggs.  I follow my regular routine: cloakroom (never tips), audioguide, and a new twist:  disposable paper “scuffies” over the shoes to protect the wood parquet floors.
       I take my time in the first room, as each of the eight cases holds at least one egg.
       The very first one is a pale almost-not-pink with a huge green snaked wrapped around it, made for the Duchess of Marlborough when she visited St. Petersburg.  No jewels, but intricate gilt.  The next is white with a Maltese cross, and as it was the unfortunate last tsar’s gift to his mother in 1915, it has a small portrait of the ill-fated tsar.
       The egg that’s perhaps the most intricate is called The Bay Tree, again a gift from the Tsar Nicholas II to his mother in 1911; all those little leaves are made of jade from Siberia, and it has a tiny bird that pops out of the top.  I wish I could have seen it working.  Some of the other clock-eggs also have a bird with real feathers in the top that sounds out the hours.
       One terribly ornate egg has multiple portraits of the tsar, his family and scenes from the court and is also from 1911. Yet another is decorated with pearls to look like lily of the valley.  There’s a Coronation Egg that opens up to reveal a model coach, complete down to the smallest detail.  Another plain white egg opens to reveal a pure gold yolk, and inside of that is a little chicken (which perhaps answers the question “Which came first: the chicken or the egg?”)
       Following this formal room are two others with more Fabergé’s creations.  There’s a pansy in a clear vase that looks like it has water, but it’s really rock crystal.  Jewels are everywhere:  agate, rubies, pearls...  And all so delicate.
       And then there’s a final room filled with icons.  All of this from the artistry of Fabergé’s studios.
       In one of the rooms, I have an “exchange” with a lady even older than I.  She points at one of the bejeweled objects and says something to me in Russian.  Something appreciative of the craftsmanship, surely?  I nod and smile, pointing at something else that’s equally amazing.  She seems not to have noticed I don’t speak her language... or care.  At the next case, we do it again, me starting this time, with a gesture.  She babbles again, and then points to my hand, at my mother’s ring with its diamonds, and smiles approvingly.
       In the Fabergé Museum, it’s not only the jewels that are amazing, but indeed the jewelry box they’re displayed in.  Such wealth, such baroque décor!  It’s worth the visit, if only for that. And there are many more mansions like this one in St. Petersburg, every bit as lavish as the tsar’s own Hermitage.