Sunburned in St. Petersburg

I arrived in Petersburg around 7 o'clock this morning, thoroughly shaken by a long night on the road. How I managed to hail a taxi and tell the driver the address of my hostel, I have no idea. But I made it there with all my things, which included the world's heaviest suitcase, packed with a month's worth of gifts and a personal library about the Veps people.

Of course, check-in at the hostel wasn't until 1 p.m., so I just dropped off the majority of my things and wandered back out into the city to try to think up something to do with myself for the next five and a half hours.

What I actually did with myself remains a mystery to me. The part of today before I finally got to take a shower is all a blur of sore feet, greasy hair, and fleeting impressions of buildings and rivers. I took a lot of pictures, so I must have had a decent time. But as soon as it was near 1 o'clock, I headed straight back to the hostel to shower.

When and where did this happen?

I love hot showers. Somehow, ten minutes of hot water on my face corrected everything ten hours on a bus had done to zombify me this morning. Resurrected, I headed out into Petersburg for round two.

First, however, I had solve the small matter of my heavy suitcase. I am certain it exceeds airline weight limits, which would mean paying a hefty fee at the airport. Also, I can't drag the thing myself further than fifteen feet without taking a break, which would make it difficult to get to the airport from the hostel without hiring a taxi. I would probably have to hire yet another cab in Chicago to transfer me from the airport to the train station, rather than dragging the monstrosity with me onto the city trains. Which means money, lots of money.

So I gathered all the books and heaviest presents and went to the post office to mail them to myself. I didn't anticipate how expensive it would be (nearly $40!), although it is probably still cheaper and certainly simpler than the ordeal I would face taking them all in my suitcase. In the process, I befriended most of the workers in the post office, who sympathized with my ridiculous plight and goofy accent. When I was in need of a return address in Petersburg to write on the packages, some random post office customer offered hers. We exchanged phone numbers in case something goes wrong, and she told me she was proud of me, for some reason.

I had thought this kind of unsolicited hospitality was only found in the provinces, but even in Petersburg the locals are willing to bend over backwards to help me out, all just because I try my darnedest to patch a few sentences together in their language.

Anyway, after spending way more money at the post office that I had expected, suddenly all my plans for enjoying Petersburg seemed excessive. A trip outside the city to Peterhof, paying bus fare and steep admission fees at the fountains? Not gonna happen. Attending a performance at the Mariinsky Theater, paying twice the normal ticket price because I'm a foreigner? Heavens no.

I decided to enjoy what I could of Petersburg for free, which meant looking at attractions from a distance, taking pictures, and walking. Lots and lots of walking. It was hot and sunny all day, so I sunburned to a medium-well. With the help of Google maps, I estimate I walked around 5 miles this evening alone (this morning is excluded, since I have no clue where I went and how I got there). I walked across three islands, and when my feet finally refused to go any further, I took the metro back to my hostel. The total cost for my evening in St. Petersburg: 135 rubles (22 for the metro, 113 for dinner at a cheap cafe). That's about $4.50.

It's too bad I don't have pictures of the beautiful fountains at Peterhof or a ticket stub from the Mariinsky to take home with me. But I did gain another souvenir that's easy to carry—my sunburn. And my feet, at least, know where I've been.

Tomorrow, I'll likely do the same thing. My flight leaves St. Petersburg at 6:50 p.m., which means I have to figure out something to do all day so I don't go crazy waiting. At this point, it is difficult to psych myself up for another day here. As soon as I left Vytegra, my mindset changed to "homeward bound," and suddenly, having free time in a beautiful, historic city seems like punishment, an unnecessary detour.

But maybe I'll feel more enthusiastic after a good night's sleep in a bed, instead of curled up in a bus seat. I'm glad to spend the extra time here, if only just for the hot shower and soft bed before starting my long journey home tomorrow.