Big, Bold and Beautiful

Boys on skateboards zipped and curved through Palace Square, their nonchalance vaguely provocative alongside the lined-up, buttoned-up military. Brassy, rhythmic band music, underscored by marching steps, burst out again and again.

We had joined St Petersburg locals and tourists on the steps of the Hermitage to watch soldiers practise for Victory Day. I imagined Catherine the Great standing at a window above us, watching menacing crowds gather in this square. This was the scene of three revolutions, including the one in 1917 that changed Russia’s destiny.

In the middle of Palace Square is Alexander Column, a 47-metre pillar that stays where it is thanks to gravity. Nothing bolts it to the ground. I worried, briefly and illogically, about an out-of-control skateboarder crashing into it, toppling it.

The Hermitage, once a royal palace and now one of the world’s greatest art museums, is actually five buildings, built along the banks of the river Neva. Inside is another world. Vast sprawling spaces; sweeping marble stairs; gilded, sparkling, mirrored rooms hanging heavy with three million art works, including two of the world’s 10 Leonardo da Vincis. Galleries full of art by Rembrandt, Renoir, Matisse, Titian, Van Gogh, Picasso, Gauguin threaten to overwhelm. But visitors to Russia soon learn that being overwhelmed is on the itinerary. It is massive and impressive, and awash in history
and culture.

St Petersburg’s river is wide and rushing, with great broken slats of ice moving with the flow, disturbing shimmering reflections of gilded church spires. Its streets are wide and rushing. Nevsky Prospect, the main street, lined with old palaces and criss-crossed with canals and bridges, is broad and too long to walk the length of. Churches, too, are XL.

St Isaacs, an imposing grand cathedral, is now a museum that can be climbed for brilliant views from its roof. The cathedral was used and abused during the Soviet era as a museum specializing in science. Now it is gorgeous again, restored with touches of gold, intricate mosaics and paintings, and towering columns of bright green and blue stone.

Most beautiful is the Church of Spilled Blood, with multi-coloured, onion-domed architecture and an interior of mosaics limited in palette so that, while there is a lot of it and it is heavily patterned, it is subdued. The effect is reflective and calming.

Other churches we stepped into were joyless and solemn. St Nikolsky was busy with Easter visitors. Old women with thin candles kissed gilded images of holy significance, crossed themselves repeatedly, and bowed. The smell of wax and the drone of chanting added to the holy scene.

Outside, in the snow, beggars lined up to grab at departing Christians, hands extended. Vendors sold branches of pussy willow at the church gates.

We were surprised by the snow, in April. Flakes hung on our clothes and dark lines of trees and fences took on a graphic quality, lacy and fragile against the white. The snow gave the city’s wide boulevards, tree-lined with paths through their centres, an extra historic quality. I wanted to see Anna Karenina in her long black skirts rushing to get out of the chill.

Vodka is the best medicine for a cold day. We sat at a bar window watching the locals in their fur coats and puffer jackets, hats pulled down; children so bundled up that they struggled to move their limbs. Elegant women with very high-heeled boots and stylish hats strode by. No sign
of Anna.

We found an excellent vegetarian café with friendly owners, and went back and back for their mushroom lasagne, sticky cakes and coffee.

Russia, without knowing the language, would be difficult without a guide. We tapped into a tour that left us to our own devices until we needed help – such as taking the train from St Petersburg to Novgorov and then, the next day, on to Moscow.

Novgorov is an old, old city with a kremlin (town fort) holding ancient churches and a museum full of icons, including one from the 11th century. Also in the collection were small double-sided tablets, thought to be used as templates for larger icons. In the inner cool of St Sophia’s, candles burned before brooding images with frames intricately carved and studded with jewels, shiny from attention. There are no pews in Orthodox churches – there are just beautiful spaces for people to stand and wait and be in awe, and have soft light fall through high windows to somehow help or guide them.

On the train to Moscow, the night fading to an inky blue horizon, we passed through countryside getting its breath back after winter. Young tourists swapped travel stories. Official rail women instructed us, with sign language, to unroll our mattresses onto our bunks and make nests with bright white linen and blankets that they would collect in the morning. Lights out when it was bedtime. It was all very civilized and easy, yet adventurous.

As was, surprisingly, the Moscow Metro. It was insanely busy and fast, and would have been stressfully challenging without an orientation lesson from our guide, but well worth mastering. We ventured out from our hotel in the ‘burbs to see Red Square, Lenin’s tomb, the great GUM mall and the darling St Basil’s Cathedral.

Moscow’s Kremlin is magnificent architecturally, with icon-filled churches and tantalizing history. It is the heart of the city – though locals gravitate to the Alexander Garden below it, especially on a warm spring day when they promenade arm in arm, with flowers and kisses and laughs. Only tourists stopped to watch the changing of the guards, a noble ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, who is watched over by three armed, uniformed, straight-backed soldiers 24/7.

We visited a fur shop, stroked the alluring pelts of many soft, warm creatures; the watchful assistant arched her thin eyebrow. We visited the Diamond Fund, an uber-secure exhibition of Russia’s jewel haul, including spectacular crown jewels and famous chunks of diamonds, sapphires and emeralds the size of bantam eggs.

Hours were spent at the Pushkin Art Museum and its neighbouring trove of impressionist and post-impressionist European art – Matisse, Gauguin and Rodin en masse. Then to a modern art complex called Red October where we found a photography gallery of powerful and arresting windows into life during and after the Soviet era.

And to Ul Arbat, an old pedestrian street, which overflowed with buzz and fun. Buskers, street dancers and portrait painters mingled with interesting, alternative types creating inspiring street fashion moments. A three-piece drum group busked with one manic dancer in front of them. 

One evening, after dark, we toured the illuminated city with a guide who revealed the city’s theatrical, brutal, intense history and something of its reality now.

I decided that the key to enjoying Moscow is getting to know it. It’s not an immediately attractive city – it is sprawling and not very accommodating to pedestrians, especially those with no Russian language. But it sure is interesting.

The night tour ended in Red Square, ablaze with lights and busy with life. Kazan Cathedral, a small, beautiful church in the corner of the square, was surrounded by candle-holding parishioners on their way to a midnight Easter service. They swirled together, hands sheltering flames, called to gather by a chorus of heart-rending, minor-keyed bells. There was no prettiness, no sweetness in those bells. They ached.

Visitor information

We broke up the long journey with stopovers in Hong Kong, both ways. Coming home, we stopped just long enough to get some sleep and stretch our legs and the SkyCity Marriott near Hong Kong Airport was an excellent choice for this.

Cathay Pacific flies daily from Auckland to Hong Kong, with connections to Moscow Domodedovo airport three times weekly.

On The Go tours provided essential assistance with visas, accommodation and local guides.