Royal Antares
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Travel Blogs from St. Petersburg
La ville des tsars
... abond. Surmontant notre aversion nous franchissons le couloir qui nous sépare de notre lieu de résidence pour les 3 prochains jours. Encore une porte blindée! Décidément les russes ont foi en l'humanité ;). Elle s'ouvre et là quel soulagement de découvrir un appartement tout rénové et tenu par une hôtesse accueillante. Durant les 3 jours ...
A bit Petersburg Tong... Part 2
... our goodbyes, and bye to the Ukrainians, and he went off to get to the station for his day-long train south, while I put my rucksack in the left luggage, and wondered what to do with over 12 hours to my overnight train to Moscow.
I walked back down Nevsky, and reached the Hermitage again, but his time I turned left and walked through a park where there was an exhibition of "buddy bears" similar to the superlambanana thing in Liverpool - fibreglass statues painted ...
Back in the USSR
... as they barely allowed head clearance if you were standing. We were sharing chocolates and champagne so would often only notice impending doom at the last moment in time to yell and duck. Out on the river the views were beautiful as the waterfront buildings are lit at night and cast reflections into the water. We sailed around looking at some of the major sights from a slightly different perspective while we waited for the bridges to open. This was the ...
Art, art, more art, and Friday Night Light
... The Roman alphabet has not been a very common occurrence either. Barb is very handy with the Cyrillic one, which sometimes makes phonetic sense, and other times makes none.
Lunch was had at the Literary Cafe, a former hangout of Alexander Pushkin and other famous Russian writers. From there came a boat tour of St. Petersburg. It was very evident from the canal boat that Peter the Great was heavily influenced by the Dutch. We had been ...
If it's not nailed down...
... situation you could say. If something bad happens, something good will even it out...and vice versa. We'd had so much good luck, we were worried.
We didn't have to wait long.
We got on a marshrutka back to town, and when it stopped the train station at Tsarskoe Selo, a drunk girl got on. Of course, she sat next to me, and at every little bump, she'd burp and hold her hand over her mouth. That's it, I figured. She's going to vomit on ...