Travelling Trunks

From matryoshkas to amber to ushankas, the Izmailovsky Market has them all

“He’s a liar,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Lonely Planet’s Russia Guide that my sister held in her hand while responding to her question on the safety of drinking water in St Petersburg. “I don’t think he has ever been to St Petersburg. Don’t believe what he says,” he fumed and proceeded to tell us how safe the drinking water in St Petersburg was and that the Lonely Planet Russia Guide (admittedly a slightly older edition) was misleading tourists in cautioning them about the harmful effects of drinking tap water in St Petersburg.

Our train to St Petersburg

“Maybe then you can tell us about what brand of vodka we could take back with us,” I suggested trying to soften his anger with a question that was more up his sleeve or rather down his throat. Just a few minutes earlier, we had entered our four-berth compartment to find that our fourth passenger was a corporate executive from St Petersburg on his way back from Moscow after a business trip. He was a frequent traveller on this route and often took the early evening train back. But today was an office party and he was late in catching his regular train. “Excuse me if I talk a lot but I have been partying and am drunk. Ask me any question you have about St Petersburg. My English is not very good but I will answer them,” he said as he went about fixing himself a drink.

The Bolshoi Theatre, founded in 1776, and restored many times over

Back home in India, if any man dared tell his three female travelling companions that he was drunk, that would be signal enough for them to find the quickest exit from the compartment. But this trip was all about enjoying the new and unpredictable. We had had quite an adventurous day and did not want the evening to end. That morning, we had manoeuvred our way into the historic and magnificent Bolshoi Theatre for a guided tour and as anyone who has done the tour before will tell you, a place right up in the queue does not guarantee an entry – it’s all about how you elbow your way in when the doors open, something that my years in India had trained me well for.

Later that day, we had worked our way up and down the famous Moscow Metro Stations, jumping off at the most ornate and picturesque of them to take in the beautiful installations, artworks and decor that the Metro was world renowned for. Built to Stalin’s brief that they should serve as palaces for the people, the stations were indeed architectural marvels replete with intricate mosaics and frescoes, detailed stained glass, carved pillars and ornate light fixtures.

The splendour and opulence of the Moscow Metro Stations

We gradually wound our way to the Leningradsky overland train station in Moscow via a cab driver with whom we could only communicate through sign language and sounds – he was delighted that, by the end of the journey, he had learnt an English word ‘station’. The Leningradksy Train Station in Moscow was a delightful surprise. Packed with all kinds of conveniences and spotlessly clean, we had a wonderful dinner at a charming station restaurant before boarding our train to St Petersburg at 1030 pm.

A charming little eatery at Leningradsky Station

And now here was our traveling companion who was all part of the experience and we were ready to soak it in. He didn’t stop talking. He told us about how life in Russia had changed over the last few years, about how companies were closing down, about there being fewer jobs available, about prices of goods and services increasing and the uncertain future many citizens faced.

He was curious – why would we want to visit Russia when people say it’s so unsafe he wondered. He was excited though that we were going to St Petersburg. “Moscow is not a Russian city. It is like a different country altogether” he said. “It’s much too cosmopolitan and lacks character. St Petersburg is where you must be. A place that has the loveliest of people and the finest places to visit.” He told us about the brand of vodka we must buy – Five Lakes, he said. We must never buy the big brand labels because that, like Moscow, is not the real thing. He spoke to us about the places in St Petersburg we must visit and things we must do, including restaurants we must eat at. When my daughter said she wanted to visit Yusupov Palace where Grigori Rasputin was assassinated, he was much against it. He did not think we should be visiting a place associated in any way with controversial figures and tried to talk my daughter out of the visit. It was well past our bed time – our complimentary boxes of water and snacks had long been consumed. We were tired. But not our spirited friend. “Before you go to sleep, can I tell you one more story?” he pleaded. And then he proceeded to tell us a long story about what we think was Yusupov throwing gems into Lake Neva and after it froze, the desperation of citizens who met watery graves in the icy cold water. Maybe it was his English. Maybe it was our tiredness. Maybe it was the one more drink. We could not entirely understand the story and tried to piece together bits of it between the three of us before we lay down to sleep.

The iconic Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood in St Petersburg

We woke up the next morning just as our train was winding her way into St Petersburg. Our traveling companion was up and wide awake. But not a word from him until we reached the station. The vodka had drained out of his system and, with it, his babble. We were waved off with a meek goodbye as we drew into St Petersburg Station and stepped out into a city of wonder and delight. It had been a long and interesting night and St Petersburg would hold us in much awe and wonder.

The grandeur of St Peter and Paul Cathedral in St Petersburg where many tsars lie buried