St. Petersburg, Russia: Day Five

The Admiralty

My return flight to Paris is at 3:35.  I thought that would give me ample time for a bit more St. Petersburg rambling.  But my ride has called and decreed that he will pick me up at noon!  Rats!  That doesn’t leave me very much time.  I had hoped to make it back to the St. Peter and Paul Fortress, but I guess that’s not to be.  So I pack up my bag and head out the door for some last minute memories.

St. Isaac's Cathedral

First on my list, St. Isaac’s Cathedral over by the Admiralty. St. Isaac was the patron saint of Peter the Great, who built this city.  And the cathedral is huge, the largest in the city and evidently number four in the world.  Designed by a French architect, which is fitting, given that Peter wanted Russia to be part of Europe, not Asia, and did everything he could to make St. Petersburg as striking architecturally as any European capital.  Like all the other churches in Russia, it was turned into a museum during the Soviet period.  But now it holds services for feast days, and on Sunday mornings has Russian Orthodox services.
       It’s pretty cold this morning, and the walk over is chilling, but at least nothing “like snow”.  When I get there, the ticket office is closed, so I decide to wait a while.  After about a quarter of an hour, I notice a tourist bus pull up on another side of the cathedral.  I walk over and see the tourists all just waiting outside the fence while their guide explains something in Russian, so I decide to wait with them.  Then I see a family, in their Sunday finery, walk up and thread their way through the crowd.  Aha!  I follow their lead and find that the service is about to start.  There’s incense and a lot of chanting and bells and it’s all very beautiful, but after a while I feel the clock ticking, so I head back.
       Outside there’s a man setting up some souvenirs on a stand he’s just unfolded.  When he catches me looking, he says something to me in Russian and motions to his tchotchkes.  I smile at him and say “Nyet Russki”.  He laughs and says “Dasvidania” - good-bye - to which I give him a heartfelt “spaseeba” and, having run the gamut of my Russian, keep on walking.
       Almost back to the hotel, I pass something I’d love to have more time to delve into:  the Soviet Café.  But it’s just opening, and the clock is still ticking.

 I still have an hour, theoretically, so I decide to check out what a luxury department store in Russia looks like inside.  I’m looking for something amber, a specialty of the region, for my daughter’s birthday.  And right across from the hotel is the DLT Department Store which has been selling luxury goods since 2005 in a five-story building that was totally restored in 2012.  Wikipedia later informs me that it was originally built as a garrison store in 1908:  “ At the time, officers were paid a high salary and were expected to live a lavish lifestyle. Along these lines, the officers' cooperative felt it appropriate that their store should be no less luxurious than the most fashionable Parisian department stores.”  Which explains why it resembles Le Printemps or Galeries Lafayette or even Le Bon Marché in Paris.  Same architecture, same décor.
       Once through the doors, the similarity extends to the product lines.  Sisley, Dior and Chanel for cosmetics.  For women’s fashion: Chloé, Gucci, Prada, and Dolce & Gabbana. But nothing “amber” within my price range in jewelry.
       A nice touch is a whole colorful corner, with cartoon characters, set aside for children. Books, games, child-size tables and cushions strewn on the floor to sit on while Mom shops (hopefully with attendants to ride herd on the kids, although it’s too early on a Sunday morning for many shoppers, so I’ll never know).
       But now it’s time to get back to the hotel.  When I get there, my driver is already waiting, even though it’s just 11:30.  Probably not speaking English, he drives me in silence one last time down Nevskiprospekt and out to the airport.  I have plenty of time to check in, and even find a necklace of multicolored amber for my daughter in one of the duty-free shops, the one run by the Russian Museum.
       St. Petersburg has been cold and grey but beautiful.  People have been very helpful, in spite of the language problem, and the museums and churches are wondrous.  So many good memories.  Thank you, Vladimir, for helping me know your country, first in the Volga Valley and now here, in the still-beautiful former capital.