4-30-07

4-30-07

Tomorrow is the first day of May. It’s –2 Celsius and there’s snow on the ground. I just got back from Pskov and I’m pretty exhausted, but I’m going to push through and type up this entry while my photos upload and I rest my feet.

Before I jump into the trip to Pskov, I should say a few words about my trip to the interior of the Church on Spilt Blood. I was down on Nevsky on Thursday after classes and it’s been on my list, so I popped in. It was well worth it, I think the pictures illustrated that. So much of the building is covered in those beautiful bright murals; it’s kind of overwhelming. The church was constructed on the exact location of Alexander II’s assassination. A bomb blew up his carriage. They have a little structure over the preserved piece of cobblestone street where the explosion took place. So this means that the church is quite young—constructed in the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century.

This makes the murals on the walls weird. Cool, but weird. You see, in all of the other churches we’ve been to where the walls are just covered with pictures of saints, the churches are old enough that the pictures aren’t lifelike at all, they’re mostly two-dimensional, icon-style. But art had evolved by the time the church was constructed, so there are dimensions to all of the saints on the walls. Added together with the bright colors and the paneled style of separating the saints, well, it kind of reminded me of a comic book. I might be struck down with lighting for thinking that, but it really did. It was cool, though.

So, Pskov. I’ll be honest, part of me wants to just say, “Screw it,” post a couple of pictures, and then leave it up to your imaginations as to what we did in Pskov. But, yeah, I know, that’s lame. I mean, less than two weeks left in this country, and I’m suddenly going to give up on something I’ve been doing for months? It’s just daunting to have three activity-filled days to recap. But let’s do this, shall we?

Saturday morning the bus picked up those of us who don’t live out by Primorskaya at the Kazansky Cathedral on Nevsky for the 6 1/2 hour bus ride to Pushkingory. The hotel we were staying in wasn’t actually in Pskov, it was in Pushkingory, two hours away from Pskov. Apparently a CIEE group all got food poisoning from the hotel in Pskov once so they’ve switched. On the bus ride down, we mostly just played cards and tried not to die. The trip wouldn’t take 6 1/2 hours under normal, American-style trip circumstances. The roads are just in such horrible shape that they slow you down. I think our insane bus driver was trying to go fast enough so that the road quality didn’t become a factor time-wise. But it was killer. We were bouncing around all over the place the majority of the time. It made the card games difficult.

Once we were settled into the hotel, we had some free time before our only excursion of the day. We went crazy and ran out into the hills behind the hill and tossed a Frisbee around sans coats. It was lovely. Later, we walked down to the Sviatogorskiy monastery and took a tour. Pushkin’s grave, along with the graves of his grandparents, were there. We also befriended a stray dog that we named Bruce Willis. That was Saturday.

Sunday we survived the breakfast and set out for the two-hour drive to Pskov. On the way there there was some Go Fish and Pictionary action. We began our excursion around the city by touring the Pskov kremlin, including a cathedral. After that, it was back on the bus to cruise around the city of Pskov a bit, and then it was out to the town of Izborsk.

At Izborsk, we were treated to some lovely vistas at the former location of an ancient monastery. We were also treated to a really, really chilly wind. We came down from the hill where the monastery once sat, and visited the quite cool Slovenskie springs. Here’s hoping the water I sipped from the springs has magical powers to keep me from getting sick after I roomed with Hannah, who is coughing and sneezing everywhere. We hiked back up from the springs and check out the awesome remains of the fortress at Izborsk. Then we ate way too many blini for lunch and headed to the Pechory Monastery.

Women aren’t allowed to enter the monastery without head coverings and something to cover your butt. The monks are afraid of womanly curves. Luckily, there’s a place that just has headscarves and tie-on skirts. So all the girls on the program ended up looking ridiculous. In my black jacket and black skirt and grey headscarf, it was agreed that I looked like an extra from an Amish production of Fiddler on the Roof. The coolest part of the monastery is the catacombs that stretch back into the ravine the monastery was built into, but they were closed when we got there. The monastery itself has largely been reconstructed in recent years, which makes it far too shiny and bright for my tastes. It was what it would look like if Disney built a monastery.

This morning, we woke up to snow blowing everywhere. It wasn’t sticking to the ground, but it was sticking to the tree branches and put everyone in a bad mood. Breakfast didn’t help much, either. But valiantly, we got on the bus and drove 10 minutes to Petrovskoe, the estate of Hannibal, Pushkin’s grandfather. It was charming and on the lake and I want it, case closed. But really, it wasn’t opulently luxurious, it was simple and yet spacious with a large grounds and fantastic views. That’s all I ask, really.

From there, we drove for 2 minutes and walked through the woods for 10 to get to Mikhailovskoe, Pushkin’s estate, on the other side of the lake. I liked some of the views this house had better than at Petrovskoe, but the house itself, for me, left something to be desired. I suppose that’s probably not really a concern I’m going to have to worry about.

We were all pretty Pushkined-out by the end of the trip. I mean, I’ve seen where he grew up, where he was shot, where he died, and where he was buried. I’ve looked at his chair, his doodles, his death mask, a lock of his hair, his footstool, etc. etc. etc. We hypothesized what could possibly come next—Pushkin’s bathroom reading?

Anyway, after that, we went back to the hotel for another lunch that made everyone feel gross and set out for the bumpy 6 hour ride home. It’s nice to get back to the city. Country life was nice—the fresh air especially was pleasing. But it’s nice to know that here, should I have to go to the bathroom, I know the places with good bathrooms. It’s sad that all of us are becoming good judges of squatting toilets. For example, at Petrovskoe, the squatters were nice—stalls with doors and the doors locked, toilet paper available for the taking (albeit outside of the stalls), and a sink. Not every bathroom we visited met all of these qualities. In fact, I can think of one that met none! I just thought of a rather colorful way to describe how that hellhole smelled, but I’ll let you imagine for yourselves.

And with that, I’m going to go to bed, I’m absolutely wiped. Happy May Day!