Random fun facts about St. Pete's:
Women:
The women of St Petersburg has to come first.
Hairstyles: The big stylish look right now is two tone. one color in the main portion and then a strongly contrasting color for bangs and the part around the face. Striking. Also, loads of bleached blondes as in every part of the world, but a surprising number of natural blondes went dark brunette/black. I guess that close to Scandinavia, blonde is a bit boring.
Shoes: High heels all the way. I'd go so far as to say stripper heels.
Clothes: The tighter the better. I'd say that there is no ideal Russian body type. I base this on the number of not so attractive ladies of a certain age wearing the skimpiest clothing possible. Anything you've ever seen in a store and thought, my god, not even a prostitute would wear that, well, you'll see it on a Russian woman. I saw low-cut on top; belly shirts are still in; see through with a cute bra is popular; clothes with holes in them are BIG; and short shorts are a must.
Best outfit: Pink sequin daisy dukes with pink sequin halter ending just under bust with pink crocheted (completely see through) "coat" and a pair of spike heels. A girl out with some other girls for a night at the clubs was seen wearing this.
Facial expression: absolute liberation from the obligatory social smile. Russian women maintain an expression of tragedy/disdain at all time. There will be no smiling. Ever.
People on the Streets at Night:
Clubsters, ugly men with gorgeous women, roller bladers (VERY popular in Russia), cyclists - all seem to be stylish young men with kicking mountain/stunt bikes, drunks, passed out drunks, couples, families with small children, tourists, runners, students, men playing chess, random musicians, scary motorcyclists who ride on the sidewalk and other pedestrian areas.
Language:
All of the young people can speak English and none of them will. Yes, those are absolutes and thus incorrect, but you get the point.
Hostel Nord:
Awesome! Great staff. Good showers - always an important point with hostels.
Locks:
Everyone has these cool magnetic locks. It's really cool and I don't know why we don't have them at home.
Public transit:
Buses are a lot more fun than the metro. To pay for your fare you sit down (or stand if it's crowded) and wait for the fare collector to come take your money.
Restaurants:
Service in Russia is a joke. Allot 30 minutes to getting the menu, then another 30 to place your order. The food comes in the standard time frame but then it takes quite some time to get the check. All of this with a godawful attitude. Customer service doesn't seem to be well-known here. But then again, neither does tipping. Connection?
Ethnic Composition:
White as far as the eye can see. I saw a couple of Asian tour groups.
That's all for now.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Tsarskoe Selo
With one day left in St Petersburg (my train was at 11), I decided that I would feel incomplete not to have seen Tsarskoe Selo. So, despite any real idea how to get there, I set off. My directions were: take the Metro to Moskowskaya station, catch a minibus right outside the station to Tsarskoe Selo. Sounds simple enough.
Here's what actually happened:
I caught the metro all right, feeling like an old hand, I even dealt with changing lines with no problem. Then, I left the station. Hmm. There are no clearly marked areas saying "Tsarskoe Selo Minibus Wait Here". In fact, the station has about 4 exits & I have no idea if I even exited the correct one. Well, I saw someone jumping on a minibus in front of me and decided that this was a likely spot, so I asked a few people which one was for T.S. In response, I got the Russian shrug. No language, just the shrug. I wandered aimlessly checking the signs on the windows for a sign, before finally realizing that I should be looking for the town name, not the tourist site name. Once I looked for Pushkin, I saw loads of minibuses of every description.
I jumped in the nearest one, felt proud of myself and settled in for the half hour ride. The bus had a little TV showing animal bloopers. Classic entertainment After a half an hour, I asked a woman when we'd hit T.S. She told me to get off immediately! We were in Pushkin! I really hope that woman catches a really bad cold (censored version). If I'd stayed on for another 5 minutes, I would have been dropped at the gates. Instead, I wandered lost through Pushkin for 45 minutes. A lovely town by the way. I eventually arrived at the Palace purely by luck.
Let me tell you something. Russia is not set up for tourism. Russia does not particularly want tourism. They make it as difficult as possible. In St. P., I saw a signboard saying Tsarskoe Selo (in Cyrillic) and 25p. I was thrilled and asked when the tour left. The woman looked me up and down and said, "Only for Russians."
I bought my ticket to the park and began wandering the (beautiful) grounds. Of course, then it began to rain. To enter any of the buildings (replicas) to see any of the antiques (none of which were there when the original was - those all exploded in WWII), cost additional rubles, which I was disinclined to pay. Instead, I went looking for a cafe. Nope. Lots of hot dog and ice cream stands and that was about it. I ate my protein bar and went looking for a microbus home.
I found the stop and waited (in the rain). The first bus filled up with people shoving in front of me, leaving me to wait for the next one. I was one of the shovers for the next one, let me tell you! Then a bit of a search for the Metro and home feeling that I definitely could have done without seeing T.S.; knowing, paradoxically, that I would have felt incredibly deprived not to have seen it.
Well, I doodled around for a bit and ended up having to really rush to catch my train. Why is it that having spare time always encourages me to be late? I caught the train 2 minutes before it pulled out of the station. I had a compartment with two older Russian ladies (bottom bunks) and a Russian Romeo (also a top bunk). He spoke to me. Incessantly. While drinking vodka and after removing his shirt. Things like, "Do you like Russia?" "Do you have boyfriend?" etc. etc. I finally fell asleep to avoid him. That ended my time in St Petersburg. I hope that you've enjoyed it as much as I did!
To see pictures, visit: http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/StPetersburg
Here's what actually happened:
I caught the metro all right, feeling like an old hand, I even dealt with changing lines with no problem. Then, I left the station. Hmm. There are no clearly marked areas saying "Tsarskoe Selo Minibus Wait Here". In fact, the station has about 4 exits & I have no idea if I even exited the correct one. Well, I saw someone jumping on a minibus in front of me and decided that this was a likely spot, so I asked a few people which one was for T.S. In response, I got the Russian shrug. No language, just the shrug. I wandered aimlessly checking the signs on the windows for a sign, before finally realizing that I should be looking for the town name, not the tourist site name. Once I looked for Pushkin, I saw loads of minibuses of every description.
I jumped in the nearest one, felt proud of myself and settled in for the half hour ride. The bus had a little TV showing animal bloopers. Classic entertainment After a half an hour, I asked a woman when we'd hit T.S. She told me to get off immediately! We were in Pushkin! I really hope that woman catches a really bad cold (censored version). If I'd stayed on for another 5 minutes, I would have been dropped at the gates. Instead, I wandered lost through Pushkin for 45 minutes. A lovely town by the way. I eventually arrived at the Palace purely by luck.
Let me tell you something. Russia is not set up for tourism. Russia does not particularly want tourism. They make it as difficult as possible. In St. P., I saw a signboard saying Tsarskoe Selo (in Cyrillic) and 25p. I was thrilled and asked when the tour left. The woman looked me up and down and said, "Only for Russians."
I bought my ticket to the park and began wandering the (beautiful) grounds. Of course, then it began to rain. To enter any of the buildings (replicas) to see any of the antiques (none of which were there when the original was - those all exploded in WWII), cost additional rubles, which I was disinclined to pay. Instead, I went looking for a cafe. Nope. Lots of hot dog and ice cream stands and that was about it. I ate my protein bar and went looking for a microbus home.
I found the stop and waited (in the rain). The first bus filled up with people shoving in front of me, leaving me to wait for the next one. I was one of the shovers for the next one, let me tell you! Then a bit of a search for the Metro and home feeling that I definitely could have done without seeing T.S.; knowing, paradoxically, that I would have felt incredibly deprived not to have seen it.
Well, I doodled around for a bit and ended up having to really rush to catch my train. Why is it that having spare time always encourages me to be late? I caught the train 2 minutes before it pulled out of the station. I had a compartment with two older Russian ladies (bottom bunks) and a Russian Romeo (also a top bunk). He spoke to me. Incessantly. While drinking vodka and after removing his shirt. Things like, "Do you like Russia?" "Do you have boyfriend?" etc. etc. I finally fell asleep to avoid him. That ended my time in St Petersburg. I hope that you've enjoyed it as much as I did!
To see pictures, visit: http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/StPetersburg
Train Tickets; Russians & Walking
The next day, I decided to save desert for after dinner and took care of my not-fun stuff before the fun stuff. I didn't have a ticket from St Petersburg to Moscow. I was planning to be on the 11pm train on Friday night, but the possibility existed that the train company was unaware of my plans. :) I headed down to the main booking site, next to the Kazan Cathedral. I managed to locate the correct window (number 98 - upstairs to the left), and discovered I'd forgotten my passport. 20 minutes later, I was back and talking to a very nice lady.
The funny thing about Russians is that they are either extremely nice and helpful or complete assholes. There doesn't seem to be a happy medium the way that there is in most countries. The lady at the train ticket place at first told me that she did not speak English. I then told her: Adin (one) Bilyet (ticket) Moskva (Moskow) Kupe (sleeping compartment) Zaftra (tomorrow) and night (night). She laughed so hard at my attempt to speak Russian that it magically jarred loose her command of the English language. This was my first clue that people might be having fun with me and just not deigning to speak to me in English.
My work done for the day, I stopped off at the hostel for my second free breakfast. In deference to the late hours of the Russian Summer, breakfast ran from 10am-2pm. This was hard on the early birds, but nice for anyone looking to make 2 free meals of toast and yogurt. There, I met 2 lovely German girls. We had the usual backpacker's conversation: 1) where are you from?; 2) how long have you been here? 3) how long have you been travelling?; 4) where are you going next?; 5) when do you go home?; 6) what are you doing today?; (optional) 7) what's your name? At point 6, it came up that today was the monthly free day at the Hermitage. Ack! Why didn't someone tell me before I paid 300p yesterday?
I decided to get my free money's worth and go back for a second look at the temporary Merovingian exhibit. Very good. Unfortunately, I was caught taking a picture of a 6th century bead necklace and was physically dragged over to the 'no photo' sign by a docent. She fell into the asshole category not just by manhandling me, but also by making fun of me when I apologized. Harrumph! Not shamed in the slightest, I continued to admire the craftwork of early civilization while I was watched with an eagle eye in case I might go crazy and start photographing everything. Note: you are free to take photos of almost everything in the Hermitage. Only special exhibits are the exception.
After a quick circuit of my favorite sites to make sure that I hadn't missed anything, I left the Hermitage behind and set off on foot. I decided to cross a bridge. Well, that brought me to the Strelka. There, I saw a not-dancing-at-the-moment bear cub and many many brides. The custom is for people to get married in the morning and then spend the day going around the city to all of the famous sites taking photographs. The entire wedding party comes along with bottles of champagne. There is also a professional photographer and usually some sort of musician. Crazy. There were brides everywhere. Apparently, August is a popular month to get married in since it is not too hot and not freezing and up to one's waist in snow.
This was also the first time that I witnessed the phenomenon of the beautiful bride with the hideous groom. I was told that this is because there is a gender imbalance in Russia (many more women than men) and because a woman is considered over the hill if she isn't married by 25. This is the reason for all of the gorgeous Russian women with beautiful hair, nails, makeup, clothes, accessories, etc. They are stunning, and the best they can hope for is to beat out all of the other stunning women for the chance at an ugly, but hopefully rich, guy. Yikes! The pressure! Men take advantage of this by typically not getting married 'til they're in their 30s.
That aside, I watched a lovely ceremony of one couple releasing doves and then kissing. I felt so happy that I decided to walk some more. I crossed another couple of bridges to the Fortress of Peter and Paul. This fortress was built by Peter the first after taking this land from the Swedes. The fortress was meant to repel a counterattack which never came. Instead, a whole city sprang up around the fortress. Soldiers bring women, bring babies, bring service industry, bring families, bring city... Simple.
Since the fortress was never used for it's intended purpose, it was filled with prisoners instead. It's a little grim, and like everything else in Russia, is under construction. Everything is under renovation. I'm not sure if it's to provide jobs for manual laborers or if everything is falling apart, but you'll see workmen everywhere.
After the fortress, I crossed another bridge to the Summer Palace and Gardens, billed as the best garden in the city. After Petrodvorets, it was a bit of a dud, but still, it was on the way, so why not? Then, I rested in the park until my feet could face more walking and then continued. There are an amazing number of cobblestone streets in Russia. This combined with the invariable high heels worn by Russian women must lead to one of the world's highest broken ankle rates. For some reason, I'd thought that cobblestones would be nice to walk on - a bit of arch support. No. Not so. Awful. My calves were knotted and aching by the time I got them back to the hostel and into a shower.
For dinner, I went off to a kitsch Russian place with 2 folks from the hostel, Katie (French Canadian) and Phil (Australian). I had blini with red caviar and potato pancakes. Yum. Then, the restaurant started turning into a club, complete with DJs; funky lights; and bad 90s US music. Cher was prominently featured.
After going back to Quo Vadis, I decided to have an early night & was home by eleven. That is very early for St. P. I did my laundry to the sound of raucous passersby wafting in through our balcony. However, I resisted temptation and was in bed by 1am.
The funny thing about Russians is that they are either extremely nice and helpful or complete assholes. There doesn't seem to be a happy medium the way that there is in most countries. The lady at the train ticket place at first told me that she did not speak English. I then told her: Adin (one) Bilyet (ticket) Moskva (Moskow) Kupe (sleeping compartment) Zaftra (tomorrow) and night (night). She laughed so hard at my attempt to speak Russian that it magically jarred loose her command of the English language. This was my first clue that people might be having fun with me and just not deigning to speak to me in English.
My work done for the day, I stopped off at the hostel for my second free breakfast. In deference to the late hours of the Russian Summer, breakfast ran from 10am-2pm. This was hard on the early birds, but nice for anyone looking to make 2 free meals of toast and yogurt. There, I met 2 lovely German girls. We had the usual backpacker's conversation: 1) where are you from?; 2) how long have you been here? 3) how long have you been travelling?; 4) where are you going next?; 5) when do you go home?; 6) what are you doing today?; (optional) 7) what's your name? At point 6, it came up that today was the monthly free day at the Hermitage. Ack! Why didn't someone tell me before I paid 300p yesterday?
I decided to get my free money's worth and go back for a second look at the temporary Merovingian exhibit. Very good. Unfortunately, I was caught taking a picture of a 6th century bead necklace and was physically dragged over to the 'no photo' sign by a docent. She fell into the asshole category not just by manhandling me, but also by making fun of me when I apologized. Harrumph! Not shamed in the slightest, I continued to admire the craftwork of early civilization while I was watched with an eagle eye in case I might go crazy and start photographing everything. Note: you are free to take photos of almost everything in the Hermitage. Only special exhibits are the exception.
After a quick circuit of my favorite sites to make sure that I hadn't missed anything, I left the Hermitage behind and set off on foot. I decided to cross a bridge. Well, that brought me to the Strelka. There, I saw a not-dancing-at-the-moment bear cub and many many brides. The custom is for people to get married in the morning and then spend the day going around the city to all of the famous sites taking photographs. The entire wedding party comes along with bottles of champagne. There is also a professional photographer and usually some sort of musician. Crazy. There were brides everywhere. Apparently, August is a popular month to get married in since it is not too hot and not freezing and up to one's waist in snow.
This was also the first time that I witnessed the phenomenon of the beautiful bride with the hideous groom. I was told that this is because there is a gender imbalance in Russia (many more women than men) and because a woman is considered over the hill if she isn't married by 25. This is the reason for all of the gorgeous Russian women with beautiful hair, nails, makeup, clothes, accessories, etc. They are stunning, and the best they can hope for is to beat out all of the other stunning women for the chance at an ugly, but hopefully rich, guy. Yikes! The pressure! Men take advantage of this by typically not getting married 'til they're in their 30s.
That aside, I watched a lovely ceremony of one couple releasing doves and then kissing. I felt so happy that I decided to walk some more. I crossed another couple of bridges to the Fortress of Peter and Paul. This fortress was built by Peter the first after taking this land from the Swedes. The fortress was meant to repel a counterattack which never came. Instead, a whole city sprang up around the fortress. Soldiers bring women, bring babies, bring service industry, bring families, bring city... Simple.
Since the fortress was never used for it's intended purpose, it was filled with prisoners instead. It's a little grim, and like everything else in Russia, is under construction. Everything is under renovation. I'm not sure if it's to provide jobs for manual laborers or if everything is falling apart, but you'll see workmen everywhere.
After the fortress, I crossed another bridge to the Summer Palace and Gardens, billed as the best garden in the city. After Petrodvorets, it was a bit of a dud, but still, it was on the way, so why not? Then, I rested in the park until my feet could face more walking and then continued. There are an amazing number of cobblestone streets in Russia. This combined with the invariable high heels worn by Russian women must lead to one of the world's highest broken ankle rates. For some reason, I'd thought that cobblestones would be nice to walk on - a bit of arch support. No. Not so. Awful. My calves were knotted and aching by the time I got them back to the hostel and into a shower.
For dinner, I went off to a kitsch Russian place with 2 folks from the hostel, Katie (French Canadian) and Phil (Australian). I had blini with red caviar and potato pancakes. Yum. Then, the restaurant started turning into a club, complete with DJs; funky lights; and bad 90s US music. Cher was prominently featured.
After going back to Quo Vadis, I decided to have an early night & was home by eleven. That is very early for St. P. I did my laundry to the sound of raucous passersby wafting in through our balcony. However, I resisted temptation and was in bed by 1am.
Daytime St Pete's
St Petersburg was still beautiful in the daylight. What a relief! I overslept a tad and didn't leave the hostel until noonish. The night before, I'd decided that it'd be too much of a pain to go get my credit card and purchase my Hermitage Museum ticket online. Bad decision. It would have been much less of an inconvenience than waiting an hour in line was. Oh well. I had ample people-watching time.
The museum is incredible. The interiors are stunning, and they don't end. Room after room of overwhelming beauty. It was wonderful and then, by the end, numbing. How much beauty can one look at before ceasing to take it in? The art was incredible. The best was da Vinci's Madonna and Child that was just sitting in a corner, with no people around it. Unbelievable.
I spent hours wandering around, waiting to find good Russian art. No luck. It turned out that the two Russian areas were closed for remodeling. Bummer. What was there was certainly more than enough. Rooms full of Picasso, Matisse, Gauguin, Renoir, Fragonard. More of each together than I've ever seen combined. Crazy. It was such an experience of oversatiety, if that's a word. I could only take a few hours, then hit art overload.
Next, I went on a short hydrofoil ride up the Neva to the Gulf of Finland to visit Petrodvorets, a palace/park complex laid out by Peter the Great in a successful attempt to outdo Versailles. The only problem is that the whole thing was actually destroyed during WWII and then was rebuilt by the Soviets. In fact, almost every single tourist site that I was frantically rushing to see was actually just a copy of pre-visit-by-the-Germans St Petersburg. Oh well, it was still gorgeous despite its shaky provenance.
The main attraction of Petrodvorets is that its a massive shrine to water. There are over 400 elaborate, incredible fountains, some of which are interactive. During a Russian summer, which is HOT, this is a major blessing. I didn't actually go in any of the buildings. In Russia, they have a quaint custom of charging admission to a site and then charging separate ticket prices for each individual building. That's one of the reasons I'm a little suspicious of the rebuilding process. Were there really so very many buildings to charge admission for in the original Petrodvorets? :)
I had a magical time wandering little hidden paths, and broad leafy avenues. It was so easy to visualized history. I kept thinking of a female guest who snuck out in the early morning to wander her favorite private path. Perhaps for a rendevouz? Then, it was time to catch the last hydrofoil back to St. P. Farewell, magical garden. I'll be back!
After the magic of Petrodvorets, I had a quick stop at the hostel and then was off in search of the one internet cafe in the Nevsky Prospekt area of town, Quo Vadis. WiFi and the global phone are combining to kill the internet cafe! Argh! After touching base with the outside world, I headed back toward my hostel and came across one of the tour boats about to leave from a launch site on the canal. These boats cruise up and down the canal & out to the river giving recorded historical speeches. It's great fun, especially at night. I'd meant to do one eventually, so this seemed like fate. I rushed down to buy a ticket and was told that this boat's tour was in Russian. No prob. But wait, she said that there was an English language tour leaving in an hour and 15 min. it was 11:15 then. I decided, what the hell, I'll catch the later one.
So, I went back to the hostel for a sweater and a bug repellent scarf (the mosquitoes are ever present in St. P.). I failed to convince anyone there to come back out with me, and so rushed back alone to the launch site, counting on meeting other tourists on the mini-cruise. I got onboard and waited for the tour to start. I noticed that no one was speaking English. Strange. In fact, they all looked Russian. I thought, "that's odd - maybe they want to practice their English". Well, I'm not sure where the screw up happened, but this was also a Russian tour. Crap!
Now, I would've been fine with the Russian tour to begin with, because it was one of those serendipitous traveller moments that seem fated. However, after rushing back and forth down Nevsky Prospekt and waiting over an hour and a half for this, still to get the Russian tour sucked. Now I'll never know the history of St Petersburg canals, unless I google it. Not to mention, Russians smoke. A lot. Oh well, it was still a great experience, especially when we came out to the Neva. The quay in front of the Hermitage was packed with thousands of people. It was 1:30am and there were loads of other boats and a whole swarm of tourists out to watch us. Crazy.
To see pictures, visit: http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/StPetersburg
The museum is incredible. The interiors are stunning, and they don't end. Room after room of overwhelming beauty. It was wonderful and then, by the end, numbing. How much beauty can one look at before ceasing to take it in? The art was incredible. The best was da Vinci's Madonna and Child that was just sitting in a corner, with no people around it. Unbelievable.
I spent hours wandering around, waiting to find good Russian art. No luck. It turned out that the two Russian areas were closed for remodeling. Bummer. What was there was certainly more than enough. Rooms full of Picasso, Matisse, Gauguin, Renoir, Fragonard. More of each together than I've ever seen combined. Crazy. It was such an experience of oversatiety, if that's a word. I could only take a few hours, then hit art overload.
Next, I went on a short hydrofoil ride up the Neva to the Gulf of Finland to visit Petrodvorets, a palace/park complex laid out by Peter the Great in a successful attempt to outdo Versailles. The only problem is that the whole thing was actually destroyed during WWII and then was rebuilt by the Soviets. In fact, almost every single tourist site that I was frantically rushing to see was actually just a copy of pre-visit-by-the-Germans St Petersburg. Oh well, it was still gorgeous despite its shaky provenance.
The main attraction of Petrodvorets is that its a massive shrine to water. There are over 400 elaborate, incredible fountains, some of which are interactive. During a Russian summer, which is HOT, this is a major blessing. I didn't actually go in any of the buildings. In Russia, they have a quaint custom of charging admission to a site and then charging separate ticket prices for each individual building. That's one of the reasons I'm a little suspicious of the rebuilding process. Were there really so very many buildings to charge admission for in the original Petrodvorets? :)
I had a magical time wandering little hidden paths, and broad leafy avenues. It was so easy to visualized history. I kept thinking of a female guest who snuck out in the early morning to wander her favorite private path. Perhaps for a rendevouz? Then, it was time to catch the last hydrofoil back to St. P. Farewell, magical garden. I'll be back!
After the magic of Petrodvorets, I had a quick stop at the hostel and then was off in search of the one internet cafe in the Nevsky Prospekt area of town, Quo Vadis. WiFi and the global phone are combining to kill the internet cafe! Argh! After touching base with the outside world, I headed back toward my hostel and came across one of the tour boats about to leave from a launch site on the canal. These boats cruise up and down the canal & out to the river giving recorded historical speeches. It's great fun, especially at night. I'd meant to do one eventually, so this seemed like fate. I rushed down to buy a ticket and was told that this boat's tour was in Russian. No prob. But wait, she said that there was an English language tour leaving in an hour and 15 min. it was 11:15 then. I decided, what the hell, I'll catch the later one.
So, I went back to the hostel for a sweater and a bug repellent scarf (the mosquitoes are ever present in St. P.). I failed to convince anyone there to come back out with me, and so rushed back alone to the launch site, counting on meeting other tourists on the mini-cruise. I got onboard and waited for the tour to start. I noticed that no one was speaking English. Strange. In fact, they all looked Russian. I thought, "that's odd - maybe they want to practice their English". Well, I'm not sure where the screw up happened, but this was also a Russian tour. Crap!
Now, I would've been fine with the Russian tour to begin with, because it was one of those serendipitous traveller moments that seem fated. However, after rushing back and forth down Nevsky Prospekt and waiting over an hour and a half for this, still to get the Russian tour sucked. Now I'll never know the history of St Petersburg canals, unless I google it. Not to mention, Russians smoke. A lot. Oh well, it was still a great experience, especially when we came out to the Neva. The quay in front of the Hermitage was packed with thousands of people. It was 1:30am and there were loads of other boats and a whole swarm of tourists out to watch us. Crazy.
To see pictures, visit: http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/StPetersburg
Monday, August 27, 2007
St. Petesborough
St Petersburg is my official new favorite city. It supplants Istanbul, my previous favorite city. I arrived on the train around 10pm, decided to be bold and take the metro rather than pay 500 rubles ($20) for a taxi. I found the metro, figured out how to buy a token, asked which train to take in which direction and where to get off - all without a word of Russian spoken by me or a word of English spoken by anyone I interacted with. I love traveler's mime. It really should be a new official language. It can erase Esperanza as the official global tongue. Who should do the infomercial? I vote for Goldie Hawn. Should be interesting. Or is she still too A-list for an infomercial?
Anyway, there must have been a bit lost in the translation, 'cause I did emerge on Nevsky Prospekt, but about 2 miles from where I wanted to be. Now I know that I very easily could have taken a number of buses to my hostel, but at the time, the only option I was aware of was the old heel and toe action. Walking in St Petersburg down Nevsky Prospekt on a summer night is so fantastic that the experience was only slightly dampened by the 60 pound weight on my back. Everywhere I looked were gorgeous buildings, gorgeous women and shimmering canals. I survived the hike, found my hostel, checked in and hit the streets without the 2-ton weight on my back.
Now, some might say that going wandering in a strange city after midnight is the height of insanity. To them I say, "you've never been to St. P in the summer, have you?" There are people everywhere. Yes, many, if not most of them are drunk, but that doesn't change the feeling of community. There are roller bladers in workout clothes; Boys doing wheelies down a block on their stylin' mountain bikes; women who look like models with men that look like Geiko commercials. There are groups and other people out walking alone. I felt safe and part of an experience, a lifestyle. This is the short window of time during which Russians have a chance to get out of their warm houses and interact away from central heating. Summer is short but intense and it was about 75 degrees at 1 in the morning.
I found the Church of the Saviour on the Spilled Blood by accident by following a canal. For a second, I wondering if I had a wire switched and was St Basil's actually in St Petersburg? No, it's a different church, just based on St. Basil's in Moscow. Then, I found the Hermitage and the giant square. I wandered and wandered and was too revved up to go back to Hostel Nord. Until, finally, I realized that I'd miss the whole next day unless I got some sleep. Like a good girl, I went back to the hostel and hit the hay bale.
To see pictures, visit: http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/StPetersburg
Anyway, there must have been a bit lost in the translation, 'cause I did emerge on Nevsky Prospekt, but about 2 miles from where I wanted to be. Now I know that I very easily could have taken a number of buses to my hostel, but at the time, the only option I was aware of was the old heel and toe action. Walking in St Petersburg down Nevsky Prospekt on a summer night is so fantastic that the experience was only slightly dampened by the 60 pound weight on my back. Everywhere I looked were gorgeous buildings, gorgeous women and shimmering canals. I survived the hike, found my hostel, checked in and hit the streets without the 2-ton weight on my back.
Now, some might say that going wandering in a strange city after midnight is the height of insanity. To them I say, "you've never been to St. P in the summer, have you?" There are people everywhere. Yes, many, if not most of them are drunk, but that doesn't change the feeling of community. There are roller bladers in workout clothes; Boys doing wheelies down a block on their stylin' mountain bikes; women who look like models with men that look like Geiko commercials. There are groups and other people out walking alone. I felt safe and part of an experience, a lifestyle. This is the short window of time during which Russians have a chance to get out of their warm houses and interact away from central heating. Summer is short but intense and it was about 75 degrees at 1 in the morning.
I found the Church of the Saviour on the Spilled Blood by accident by following a canal. For a second, I wondering if I had a wire switched and was St Basil's actually in St Petersburg? No, it's a different church, just based on St. Basil's in Moscow. Then, I found the Hermitage and the giant square. I wandered and wandered and was too revved up to go back to Hostel Nord. Until, finally, I realized that I'd miss the whole next day unless I got some sleep. Like a good girl, I went back to the hostel and hit the hay bale.
To see pictures, visit: http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/StPetersburg
Friday, August 24, 2007
Tallinn & Helsinki - Part 2
Hello! Well, our story left off with our heroine (everyone should get to be the hero of their own story) having a virtuous, early bedtime, with the intention of getting oot and aboot bright and early the next day. Luckily, I actually slept in 'til after 8 and didn't hit the town 'til a quarter to 9am. I say "luckily" because nothing opens in Tallinn before 9 o'clock. and most places are still closed until 10. People were drunkenly singing in the street until after 6 (my room faced the street, with a large open window), and this sort of late night frolic does not encourage early rising.
Deprived of breakfast and of an internet cafe with Skype, I wandered the streets. I found a little gem of a church; a girl selling postcards, stamps, and postal delivery on the street (they're all over Tallinn); a supermarket (yay, fruit!); and the city outside the walls of the old town. All in all, an excellent use of my time.
Finally, the internet cafe opened (the ONE internet cafe in old town - WiFi is killing the internet cafe) and I was able to get my Greg fix. After that necessity was taken care of, I meandered back to my hostel to check out. Curious thing about Tallinn's old town. It is apparently close to impossible to get lost. I wandered all over the place with neither a map nor a clue and I never had a problem getting back to my hostel. Strange. I really think that it is the magic kingdom.
Anyhoo, I got repacked and checked out, then went out for a second breakfast with Justin, my chum from the previous evening. We took a second ramble around the town together. While searching for rumored secret tunnels, we stumbled across Kiek in de Kok tower. Hah! Best name ever for a giant phallic symbol! Actually, the translation is "peeping in the kitchen", strange, but I strongly prefer the English meaning.
We continued our walk down a little secret way, not so secret judging by the used condoms and hypo we saw on the ground, to a lovely courtyard. There, I settled in with my book, The Egyptologist by Arthur Phillips, author of Prague - very very odd - while Justin went off to meet another friend.
Then, it was back to the good old Viking line. For this crossing, sans Italian conversationalist, I passed the time asleep on a bench and arrived refreshed in Helsinki three hours after leaving Tallinn. I splurged on a cab to my hostel, since I had absolutely no clue how to get there. Good call. There, I waited a good half an hour to check in (long lines), and then dropped off my bag, picked up a Brazilian dinner companion, and was off for Finland's version of Mexican food.
Fernanda has been living in Oslo for two years, working as an engineer. She just finished her contract (they love employment contracts in Scandinavia) and is considering whether or not to sign on for another 2 years. The money is fabulous, the winter is abysmal. Wait... wouldn't 'abysmal' imply hot? OK... the winter is friggin cold!!! For a girl from Rio, not exactly what she's used to.
After dinner, we swung past the train station only to find the ticket office closed. This was a great example of 'Scandinavian time'. The office is only open from 10-6. Fernanda said that often, she'll go to a store, or even a bank and find it closed at 3pm or so - not for a holiday or even summer Friday early closing. Just for the hell of it. The American work ethic seems slightly less than natural when seen through a global perspective. Of course, this opinion might change after I see some working conditions in China. :)
Back at the hostel, Fernanda went to queue for the free internet and I prepared to sneak a sauna. The hostel's sauna, for which I had thrown my travel plans all out of whack, had set hours. 4-6 for women and 6:30-8 for men. I checked in at 8:30. I was not going to be deprived of that sauna. I reconnoitered and discovered that the sauna was unlocked and unguarded. Sneaking past reception with a load of laundry to hide my towel and bikini, I put my clothes in the washer, and ducked into my private, heated world. All of the pressures of the last couple of days melted away. Not to mention the lingering muscular soreness from that ridiculous exercise class!
I was duly punished for my illicit use of the premises by discovering that there was a 3-load waiting line for the dryer. Ouch. I was up 'til 1:30 finishing my laundry, but it was still worth it!
The next morning, I had an amazing complimentary breakfast at the hostel. Normally, that'd be toast and coffee. Not in Helsinki! They served 5 different types of bread (rolls included); 4 types of cereal, including muesli; eggs; fruit; potatoes; juice; coffee; sausage (yuck, but still); and a selection of cheeses. WOW! No wonder the place is booked solid.
Next on the agenda was buying my train ticket to St Petersburg. I still was unaware of the timetable, and was getting a little nervous about not having a ticket. At the ticket office, one takes a number and waits for that number to come up. As I reached to get my number, two Arabic speaking men literally shoved me aside to get to the dispenser first. Nice. However, they got a quick kick from fate after discovering that they had accidentally grabbed a number for the domestic queue rather than for the international queue. So, I still ended up ahead of them. Hah! Take that, you unchivalric jerks!
The nice lady in the office sold me a ticket for the 3:27 train. That was at around 11:30. I had 4 hours in Helsinki. The obvious first step was to hop on the number 3 tram that loops around Helsinki. It's a hop-on public tram that stops at the major tourist spots, and only costs 2 euro! As soon as I hit the harbor (and the farmer's market), I was off like a shot. There were people everywhere, music, great smells, just a perfect day to be alive. I ambled up to Senate Square and heard a choir singing in front of the Cathedral. Cool. Then wandered a bit more and hopped back on the tram.
By pure chance, while enjoying the view, I happened to see the bus stop for bus number 24. That's the one that goes out to the Seurasaari Open Air Museum. It's a preserved area with buildings dating back as far as the 17th century. An amazing look at Finnish culture outside of a stuffy building. Irresistible! Well, it was 12:30, I decided that a 1/2 hour on the bus, 1.5 hours at the site, a half hour back, and a half hour to pick up my pack and get to the station with another 1/2 hr to spare was more than enough time. Yippee!
I made it out there, and had a WONDERFUL time wandering around. Those buildings are amazing. There are also strangely friendly red squirrels. If you make eye contact with one, it will come bounding up to you to interact/be fed. If it was 400 years ago, we'd be having squirrel stew for dinner. The island is beautiful and so peaceful. It's laid out with walkways and abundant foliage. I felt alone most of the time. Finally, it was time to head back. I'm a smart cookie to have budgeted that spare 1/2 hour, 'cause that's how long I waited for the bus. Argh!
Well, it all worked out. I made it to the station and onto my train with at least 5 minutes to spare before it rolled out of the station. :) Seriously, I'm so glad that everything worked out the way that it did. After all, who wants to sit around a dirty train station for hours anyway?
To see pictures, visit: http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/FinlandEstonia
Deprived of breakfast and of an internet cafe with Skype, I wandered the streets. I found a little gem of a church; a girl selling postcards, stamps, and postal delivery on the street (they're all over Tallinn); a supermarket (yay, fruit!); and the city outside the walls of the old town. All in all, an excellent use of my time.
Finally, the internet cafe opened (the ONE internet cafe in old town - WiFi is killing the internet cafe) and I was able to get my Greg fix. After that necessity was taken care of, I meandered back to my hostel to check out. Curious thing about Tallinn's old town. It is apparently close to impossible to get lost. I wandered all over the place with neither a map nor a clue and I never had a problem getting back to my hostel. Strange. I really think that it is the magic kingdom.
Anyhoo, I got repacked and checked out, then went out for a second breakfast with Justin, my chum from the previous evening. We took a second ramble around the town together. While searching for rumored secret tunnels, we stumbled across Kiek in de Kok tower. Hah! Best name ever for a giant phallic symbol! Actually, the translation is "peeping in the kitchen", strange, but I strongly prefer the English meaning.
We continued our walk down a little secret way, not so secret judging by the used condoms and hypo we saw on the ground, to a lovely courtyard. There, I settled in with my book, The Egyptologist by Arthur Phillips, author of Prague - very very odd - while Justin went off to meet another friend.
Then, it was back to the good old Viking line. For this crossing, sans Italian conversationalist, I passed the time asleep on a bench and arrived refreshed in Helsinki three hours after leaving Tallinn. I splurged on a cab to my hostel, since I had absolutely no clue how to get there. Good call. There, I waited a good half an hour to check in (long lines), and then dropped off my bag, picked up a Brazilian dinner companion, and was off for Finland's version of Mexican food.
Fernanda has been living in Oslo for two years, working as an engineer. She just finished her contract (they love employment contracts in Scandinavia) and is considering whether or not to sign on for another 2 years. The money is fabulous, the winter is abysmal. Wait... wouldn't 'abysmal' imply hot? OK... the winter is friggin cold!!! For a girl from Rio, not exactly what she's used to.
After dinner, we swung past the train station only to find the ticket office closed. This was a great example of 'Scandinavian time'. The office is only open from 10-6. Fernanda said that often, she'll go to a store, or even a bank and find it closed at 3pm or so - not for a holiday or even summer Friday early closing. Just for the hell of it. The American work ethic seems slightly less than natural when seen through a global perspective. Of course, this opinion might change after I see some working conditions in China. :)
Back at the hostel, Fernanda went to queue for the free internet and I prepared to sneak a sauna. The hostel's sauna, for which I had thrown my travel plans all out of whack, had set hours. 4-6 for women and 6:30-8 for men. I checked in at 8:30. I was not going to be deprived of that sauna. I reconnoitered and discovered that the sauna was unlocked and unguarded. Sneaking past reception with a load of laundry to hide my towel and bikini, I put my clothes in the washer, and ducked into my private, heated world. All of the pressures of the last couple of days melted away. Not to mention the lingering muscular soreness from that ridiculous exercise class!
I was duly punished for my illicit use of the premises by discovering that there was a 3-load waiting line for the dryer. Ouch. I was up 'til 1:30 finishing my laundry, but it was still worth it!
The next morning, I had an amazing complimentary breakfast at the hostel. Normally, that'd be toast and coffee. Not in Helsinki! They served 5 different types of bread (rolls included); 4 types of cereal, including muesli; eggs; fruit; potatoes; juice; coffee; sausage (yuck, but still); and a selection of cheeses. WOW! No wonder the place is booked solid.
Next on the agenda was buying my train ticket to St Petersburg. I still was unaware of the timetable, and was getting a little nervous about not having a ticket. At the ticket office, one takes a number and waits for that number to come up. As I reached to get my number, two Arabic speaking men literally shoved me aside to get to the dispenser first. Nice. However, they got a quick kick from fate after discovering that they had accidentally grabbed a number for the domestic queue rather than for the international queue. So, I still ended up ahead of them. Hah! Take that, you unchivalric jerks!
The nice lady in the office sold me a ticket for the 3:27 train. That was at around 11:30. I had 4 hours in Helsinki. The obvious first step was to hop on the number 3 tram that loops around Helsinki. It's a hop-on public tram that stops at the major tourist spots, and only costs 2 euro! As soon as I hit the harbor (and the farmer's market), I was off like a shot. There were people everywhere, music, great smells, just a perfect day to be alive. I ambled up to Senate Square and heard a choir singing in front of the Cathedral. Cool. Then wandered a bit more and hopped back on the tram.
By pure chance, while enjoying the view, I happened to see the bus stop for bus number 24. That's the one that goes out to the Seurasaari Open Air Museum. It's a preserved area with buildings dating back as far as the 17th century. An amazing look at Finnish culture outside of a stuffy building. Irresistible! Well, it was 12:30, I decided that a 1/2 hour on the bus, 1.5 hours at the site, a half hour back, and a half hour to pick up my pack and get to the station with another 1/2 hr to spare was more than enough time. Yippee!
I made it out there, and had a WONDERFUL time wandering around. Those buildings are amazing. There are also strangely friendly red squirrels. If you make eye contact with one, it will come bounding up to you to interact/be fed. If it was 400 years ago, we'd be having squirrel stew for dinner. The island is beautiful and so peaceful. It's laid out with walkways and abundant foliage. I felt alone most of the time. Finally, it was time to head back. I'm a smart cookie to have budgeted that spare 1/2 hour, 'cause that's how long I waited for the bus. Argh!
Well, it all worked out. I made it to the station and onto my train with at least 5 minutes to spare before it rolled out of the station. :) Seriously, I'm so glad that everything worked out the way that it did. After all, who wants to sit around a dirty train station for hours anyway?
To see pictures, visit: http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/FinlandEstonia
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Helsinki & Tallinn - Day One
I am officially insane. I really wanted to stay at Hostel Satakuntatalo in Helsinki. It has a sauna. I really really wanted to use that sauna. Also, it's right in the center of town, near all the trams, etc. Unfortunately, I tend to procrastinate and by the time I went online to reserve my bed at Hostel Satakuntatalo ("a Summer Hotel"- that's what the sign says), it was full for August 19th, the day that I arrived in Helsinki. However, they had an opening on August 20th! Now, any sane human being who wanted to visit Helsinki, Finland and Tallinn, Estonia before going to St Petersburg, finding her first choice in hostels booked, would have stayed at a different, albeit lesser hostel in Helsinki, taken the ferry to Tallinn, and from there taken the very cheap train to St. P. (Tallinn to St P is about a 1/3 the price of Helsinki to St P due to the relative strengths of the Euro vs. the Estonian Kroon. If they charged the same price, very few Estonians could afford to go!
As I said, that is the plan that a sane person would have followed. Well, a sane person would also probably have kept her job and continued contributing to her 401(k) and her brokerage account. God looks after children and idiots. I decided to go straight from the airport (10am after a 7 hour red eye) to the port, buy a ticket for a ferry whose precise schedule I was ignorant of, get myself to Tallinn, and take a taxi to my hostel. Not exactly a leisurely way to deal with jet lag, but it got the job done.
I slept about 4 hours on the plane, with the help of my friend diazepam (thank you, Peruvian over-the-counter pharmacy). After customs (the easiest I've ever been through) and baggage claim, my first stop was for coffee. Then, I discovered that the cost of a cab from the airport to the port was a bit prohibitive. 45 euros to be precise. Ouch! Despite my lack of sleep, I decided to err on the side of thrift and stumbled out to the bus stop. Stop number 21 produced bus #615T which got me to the train station. On the bus, I ran into 3 Italian guys who were also going to Tallinn. Luck! I decided to tag along with them and they produced the information that from the train station, the #4 tram would get us to the Viking line ferry terminal. Woo Hoo! We were in business!
Of course, the hypothetical, sane Christine would have been more prepared and would have known to take the 1.5 hour hydrofoil for 30 euros rather than the 20 euro 3 hour cruise ship, Rosella. Oh well, my fight to stay upright was helped by some great lounge acts (slight sarcasm there, but the old folks seemed to have fun on the dance floor); and by the conversation of Ricardo, Stefano, and Marco, my new Italian friends. We had a great discussion about why Italian men have such a bad reputation. We finally docked at 3:30pm local time, and I bid adieu to my chums and headed off to Vana Tom Hostel.
I had a bit of fun finding the place, but got checked in to a dorm room occupied by 4 hungover men and reeking of booze, cigarettes and male musk. Apparently, there'd been quite a party the night before. I was too exhausted to even think of requesting a different dorm assignment. I unpacked my toiletries and jammies; took a quick shower and was horizontal within about 15 minutes. The next thing I knew, it was 3 hours later, and I slowly became aware of a conversation between two of my bunkmates, Justin and creepy Scottish guy. I decided not to waste my night in Tallinn, and reluctantly rejoined the vertical world. It was 8 by the time I left the hostel, and I was starving. Well, I got coffee and ended up having too much fun to think of food for the next few hours. I had wandered for an hour or so when I ran into Justin from the hostel. He had just met a friend for coffee and was at loose ends until another friend got in on the midnight ferry.
It turns out that Justin has been living and working in Copenhagen for the last 4 years for a Danish hedge fund company. I am so jealous! He's been to Tallinn a time or two before and shows me around to some of the highlights I might of missed. As one of these highlights entails an uphill hike, I probably would have missed it. At one point, Justin finally asked me why I was walking so strangely. Damn you, Cheetah! (apparently the name of the crazy squat instructor at my sister's gym) I was still in pain 4 days after the class. I'm glad that I had Justin to force me to the upper town.
There are actually two medieval walled towns in Tallinn. One was for the nobility and occupies the high ground. The other was for the plebs down below. The view from the high old town down to the poor'ld town and the port and city beyond was amazing! Also, I had the joy of discovering that the Embassy of the Netherlands to Estonia has a trampoline in its courtyard!!! Hah!!! Why am I not Dutch? Will someone (i.e. my parents) please tell me that???
It didn't even get dark 'til around 10:30, and we were having so much fun that it was 11 by the time we got around to looking for dinner. At that point, the restaurants are closed. The pubs are full. By "full", I mean jam-packed with serious drinkers. One pub wouldn't serve us 'cause they had too many customers for the kitchen. Finally, we found an English breakfast (me) and bad Thai curry (Justin) at "The Pub with No Name" - seriously, that's the name of the bar. Replete with eggs, baked beans, and potatoes, I toddled off to bed and Justin went off to pursue a wild night on the town in Tallinn.
On a sidenote - bars in Tallinn typically show fashion videos on muted televisions, while blasting 90s American music and/or bad techno.
To see pictures, visit: http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/FinlandEstonia
As I said, that is the plan that a sane person would have followed. Well, a sane person would also probably have kept her job and continued contributing to her 401(k) and her brokerage account. God looks after children and idiots. I decided to go straight from the airport (10am after a 7 hour red eye) to the port, buy a ticket for a ferry whose precise schedule I was ignorant of, get myself to Tallinn, and take a taxi to my hostel. Not exactly a leisurely way to deal with jet lag, but it got the job done.
I slept about 4 hours on the plane, with the help of my friend diazepam (thank you, Peruvian over-the-counter pharmacy). After customs (the easiest I've ever been through) and baggage claim, my first stop was for coffee. Then, I discovered that the cost of a cab from the airport to the port was a bit prohibitive. 45 euros to be precise. Ouch! Despite my lack of sleep, I decided to err on the side of thrift and stumbled out to the bus stop. Stop number 21 produced bus #615T which got me to the train station. On the bus, I ran into 3 Italian guys who were also going to Tallinn. Luck! I decided to tag along with them and they produced the information that from the train station, the #4 tram would get us to the Viking line ferry terminal. Woo Hoo! We were in business!
Of course, the hypothetical, sane Christine would have been more prepared and would have known to take the 1.5 hour hydrofoil for 30 euros rather than the 20 euro 3 hour cruise ship, Rosella. Oh well, my fight to stay upright was helped by some great lounge acts (slight sarcasm there, but the old folks seemed to have fun on the dance floor); and by the conversation of Ricardo, Stefano, and Marco, my new Italian friends. We had a great discussion about why Italian men have such a bad reputation. We finally docked at 3:30pm local time, and I bid adieu to my chums and headed off to Vana Tom Hostel.
I had a bit of fun finding the place, but got checked in to a dorm room occupied by 4 hungover men and reeking of booze, cigarettes and male musk. Apparently, there'd been quite a party the night before. I was too exhausted to even think of requesting a different dorm assignment. I unpacked my toiletries and jammies; took a quick shower and was horizontal within about 15 minutes. The next thing I knew, it was 3 hours later, and I slowly became aware of a conversation between two of my bunkmates, Justin and creepy Scottish guy. I decided not to waste my night in Tallinn, and reluctantly rejoined the vertical world. It was 8 by the time I left the hostel, and I was starving. Well, I got coffee and ended up having too much fun to think of food for the next few hours. I had wandered for an hour or so when I ran into Justin from the hostel. He had just met a friend for coffee and was at loose ends until another friend got in on the midnight ferry.
It turns out that Justin has been living and working in Copenhagen for the last 4 years for a Danish hedge fund company. I am so jealous! He's been to Tallinn a time or two before and shows me around to some of the highlights I might of missed. As one of these highlights entails an uphill hike, I probably would have missed it. At one point, Justin finally asked me why I was walking so strangely. Damn you, Cheetah! (apparently the name of the crazy squat instructor at my sister's gym) I was still in pain 4 days after the class. I'm glad that I had Justin to force me to the upper town.
There are actually two medieval walled towns in Tallinn. One was for the nobility and occupies the high ground. The other was for the plebs down below. The view from the high old town down to the poor'ld town and the port and city beyond was amazing! Also, I had the joy of discovering that the Embassy of the Netherlands to Estonia has a trampoline in its courtyard!!! Hah!!! Why am I not Dutch? Will someone (i.e. my parents) please tell me that???
It didn't even get dark 'til around 10:30, and we were having so much fun that it was 11 by the time we got around to looking for dinner. At that point, the restaurants are closed. The pubs are full. By "full", I mean jam-packed with serious drinkers. One pub wouldn't serve us 'cause they had too many customers for the kitchen. Finally, we found an English breakfast (me) and bad Thai curry (Justin) at "The Pub with No Name" - seriously, that's the name of the bar. Replete with eggs, baked beans, and potatoes, I toddled off to bed and Justin went off to pursue a wild night on the town in Tallinn.
On a sidenote - bars in Tallinn typically show fashion videos on muted televisions, while blasting 90s American music and/or bad techno.
To see pictures, visit: http://picasaweb.google.com/christine7world/FinlandEstonia
Sisterly visit
Monday, August 13, 2007. I woke up at 7:15am Pacific Standard Time and thought, "Shit!" -yes, I swear in my internal monologue- "I'm late for work!" Half of a second later, I corrected myself, "Nope, I'm unemployed!" I don't think that I have ever taken quite so much joy in being 'between jobs'. Probably because in the past, being unemployed equalled being broke. Now that I'd saved money for two years, I found myself happily contacting friends and family, using the opening statement, "Hi, I'm unemployed!!! (insert giggle)"
Even though I wasn't late for my nonexistent job, I still needed to hustle to be ready for my 9am Super Shuttle to SFO. I had a funny Chinese lady driver whom I am convinced had just passed her driving exam a week or so prior to becoming a Super Shuttle driver. As evidence: she held a death grip on the wheel with her hands precisely at 10 and 2 o'clock; she drove about 20 mph in a 35 zone; she waited to turn right until she had a one block gap in traffic; definitively, she drove by audio GPS. I kid you not. She had a GPS unit hooked up giving audio directions such as, "drive 50 feet and turn right, beep (signal to turn), continue straight for 200 feet..." It was awesome. I thought that we were going to cause an accident on the freeway, but we got there safe and sound. You go girl!
The flight was uneventful, other than me being the one person on board who didn't get lunch. I asked for a vegetarian sandwich, and the flight crew twice told me that they were getting it, then never brought it. Next, they skipped me in the drink cart rotation. I must have been wearing my "Continental's flight crew stinks!" t-shirt without realizing it.
We landed at Newark at 8ish and I made my leisurely way (with a stop for a much needed dinner) to baggage claim and the taxi queue. I still ended up beating Melissa home from work and sat on her stoop for a bit 'til she got home. Not exactly a sacrifice to be forced to stop and enjoy the summer evening. When sister got home, we went out for a bite and then to bed.
On Tuesday, Melissa, Kevin and I went to the Great America amusement park. It was fun! Lots of time in line with some serious adrenaline rushes to make it worth the wait. Long day. Wednesday, M & I went for pedicures and then made a huge mistake. We went to her gym and tried what was billed as a butt class. Hah! In a half an hour we did about 300 squats, some weighted, and lunges. Then 200 plies. Then we stayed for the upper body class and the ab class, unaware that we would be unable to walk for the next week. Our quads were absolutely blown. Did I mention that Melissa lives in a 4th floor walk-up? Going up wasn't nearly as bad as going down, but either way, M & I were getting a serious preview of what old age is going to be like. It is not pretty.
Thursday, we sat around in serious pain, watching TV and doing laundry. Friday, Melissa had to go to work, but I sat around, in serious pain, watching TV, talking on the phone, and surfing the internet. We did stir ourselves to go out Friday night, and hit Manhattan for dinner, then home to bed. Saturday was a lovely brunch at Frozen Monkey Cafe, where we were served delicious food by their staff of drug addicts and lobotomy victims. Then, Kevin gave me a ride to the airport and our visit was over.
Thank you, Melissa and Kevin! It was fun!
Even though I wasn't late for my nonexistent job, I still needed to hustle to be ready for my 9am Super Shuttle to SFO. I had a funny Chinese lady driver whom I am convinced had just passed her driving exam a week or so prior to becoming a Super Shuttle driver. As evidence: she held a death grip on the wheel with her hands precisely at 10 and 2 o'clock; she drove about 20 mph in a 35 zone; she waited to turn right until she had a one block gap in traffic; definitively, she drove by audio GPS. I kid you not. She had a GPS unit hooked up giving audio directions such as, "drive 50 feet and turn right, beep (signal to turn), continue straight for 200 feet..." It was awesome. I thought that we were going to cause an accident on the freeway, but we got there safe and sound. You go girl!
The flight was uneventful, other than me being the one person on board who didn't get lunch. I asked for a vegetarian sandwich, and the flight crew twice told me that they were getting it, then never brought it. Next, they skipped me in the drink cart rotation. I must have been wearing my "Continental's flight crew stinks!" t-shirt without realizing it.
We landed at Newark at 8ish and I made my leisurely way (with a stop for a much needed dinner) to baggage claim and the taxi queue. I still ended up beating Melissa home from work and sat on her stoop for a bit 'til she got home. Not exactly a sacrifice to be forced to stop and enjoy the summer evening. When sister got home, we went out for a bite and then to bed.
On Tuesday, Melissa, Kevin and I went to the Great America amusement park. It was fun! Lots of time in line with some serious adrenaline rushes to make it worth the wait. Long day. Wednesday, M & I went for pedicures and then made a huge mistake. We went to her gym and tried what was billed as a butt class. Hah! In a half an hour we did about 300 squats, some weighted, and lunges. Then 200 plies. Then we stayed for the upper body class and the ab class, unaware that we would be unable to walk for the next week. Our quads were absolutely blown. Did I mention that Melissa lives in a 4th floor walk-up? Going up wasn't nearly as bad as going down, but either way, M & I were getting a serious preview of what old age is going to be like. It is not pretty.
Thursday, we sat around in serious pain, watching TV and doing laundry. Friday, Melissa had to go to work, but I sat around, in serious pain, watching TV, talking on the phone, and surfing the internet. We did stir ourselves to go out Friday night, and hit Manhattan for dinner, then home to bed. Saturday was a lovely brunch at Frozen Monkey Cafe, where we were served delicious food by their staff of drug addicts and lobotomy victims. Then, Kevin gave me a ride to the airport and our visit was over.
Thank you, Melissa and Kevin! It was fun!
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