On Sunday, 23 October, Brian, David, Erica and myself took the fast train from Moscow to Saint-Petersburg. We began a five day journey through this remarkable city, accompanied by Volodya, our intrepid guide and interpreter Our itinerary included tours of museums and visits to projects working for the most vulnerable in the city. In between we met people in their homes and eating places and heard many opinions and many stories. For me, the stories tell me more than the opinions.
It was interesting being in this complex and historically important city. While being aware of the breathtaking beautiy of this ‘Venice of the North’ I never forgot the human cost of its construction. In order to make real Peter the Great’s audacious vision of a magnificent city creating a window on Europe, thousands of slave labourers died as its magnificent buildings took shape.
Our knowledgable guide shepherded us through the city he obviously loves and we found ourselves caught up in his enthusiasm. With him we visited the Hermitage, the Summer Garden, the Church on the Spilled Blood and St Isaac’s Cathedral. I think my favourite tourist exclusion was our boat trip on the River Neva. This was on a chilly but sunny day and I was delighted to find that I could follow the Russian commentary, not with ease but I had some idea of what we were being invited to look at! My spoken Russian is really weak but I did notice in our various encounters that I understood a little of what was being said before the interpretation.
Ou guide knew of my interest in Russian literature and he pointed out places associated with Pushkin and Dostoevsky. As a result I’m re reading ‘Crime and Punishment’ and Pushkin’s great poem, ‘The Bronze Horseman’.
We learned something of the challenges of life in this city for the poorest people when we visited two charities and heard about these issues from the workers. They told us, and others confirmed this, that the most vulnerable people in society are the elderly. Pensions are meagre and older people are susceptible to scams which can result in them losing their modest accomodation. It was heartwarming to see the genuine concern of the young workers at the homelessness project for the elderly.
On an overcast and snowy morning we went by bus to the Piskaryovskoe Memorial Cemetery. In silence we reflected on the hundreds of thousands who had died during the nine hundred day Siege of Leningrad during the Great Patriotic War. Our guide told us that his mother had been a young woman during this tragic time and this reinforced our awareness that everyone we met in Saint-Petersburg had relatives who had lived through it, and sometimes had died during it. We learnt that the experience of war on its own soil has given the Russian people horror at the thought of war again. Here is a
translation of a text carved on a granite wall at the cemetery:
Here lie Leningraders
Here are city dwellers – men, women, and children
And next to them, Red Army soldiers.
They defended you, Leningrad,
The cradle of the Revolution
With all their lives.
We cannot list their noble names here,
There are so many of them under the eternal protection of granite.
But know this, those who regard these stones:
No one is forgotten, nothing is forgotten.
I’ve spoken about the visits to people’s homes and we were shown warm hospitality. I just want to mention one woman who really impressed me. I shall call her Katya. She is a bit younger than I and a lively, friendly woman. Soon after our arrival she showed us several large photograph albums which contained hundreds of photos of her family. Her father had been a keen amateur photographer. While looking at the albums we learnt about her life and the fact that her father spent some years in the Gulag. She said this probably saved his life as it meant he wasn’t fighting in the war. As Katya spoke, and like many Russians I’ve met she told a good story, I was struck forcibly by the awareness that life in Russia for those of our generation was vastly different from life in Britain. This is why it is so tragic and unacceptable that elderly Russians are neglected.
The four of us had long journeys ahead to reach our respective homes and I, for one, appreciated the hours spent at the airport as I was able to reflect on all we’d experienced. One final anecdote though. As I’ve mentioned this was my fourth visit to Russia and on the other visits I’d spent time in Perm. The friendly woman on the British Airways desk at Domodyedovo who took care of my disability assistance, was from Perm! What a coincidence!
Live Adventurously 