Russian coat of arms that dates back to the 15th centuryFour days, and I did not see the sun set. We would sleep at midnight, with bright skies outside, and wake up at six, with the sun shining bright, again! This is by far the most farthest north I've been. 60 degrees!
We most fortunately had a delightful four days of art, history, culture and perfectly divine weather. Click on any of the pictures, for a more enjoyable viewing experience!
Sekar writes:
"Once Peter the Great consolidated his throne and defeated Russia's then traditional enemy Sweden, he decided to build a new capital rather than return to Moscow. Moscow symbolized all that was wrong with Russia: it was provincial and inward-looking, it was the place where rivals had tried to eliminate him, it was a place he hated.
His new capital would be one that looked west to an enlightened Europe. He chose a site on the western periphery of his empire, on marshy ground where the river Neva emptied into the Gulf of Finland. It would serve as a port, as a place where he could keep an eye on the Swedes and, most importantly, a place that would be a window to Europe.
The city he built, St Petersburg, was a European city. Its architecture, its layout on a series of canals, its broad roads and grand squares were all European. It was, and is, like no other Russian city.
All this we had read before our visit and we had visions of European grandeur as our flight from Helsinki descended through low clouds to Pulkovo airport. We were disappointed. The airport appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. Lush green grass, stands of spruce trees: there was no hint that a large city was nearby. Broken tarmac was evident as we got off the plane and the terminal building looked pitifully small. Despite the late hour (close to 10pm) and the low clouds, it was light. A somewhat antiquated bus deposited us at the terminal. The late hour meant sparse crowds at the passport counter, but the officer took his time examining me, my passport, his computer, various items on his (hidden) desk and then repeating the process. At one point, after giving me a suspicious look, he picked up his phone. For a long moment or two I thought the Lubyanka beckoned, but then I heard the reassuring sound of rubber stamps on passport and exhaled in relief.
There was a half completed building outside, the road had seen better days and the lush grass hadn't been cut. Things didn't look very promising and the low clouds only added to the general air of decay and gloom.
Thankfully, things improved after that. The main highway was broad and smooth and we were soon entering the city. We passed large monuments to the defenders of the city during the long WW2 siege. We passed stately buildings, almost all 4 – 5 stories tall, more monumental memorials, large, tree-filled parks and then more and more signs that we were entering Peter the Great's city. Here, the buildings had pastel facades and ornate decorations. Each building was distinct, but there was harmony in the whole. The architectural references to Venice, Prague and Paris were obvious. We drove along a canal, crossed Nevsky Prospekt (in a way the Champs Elysee of St Petersburg) and were soon at our hotel. 11pm and it was still light – the famous 'white nights'.
St Petersburg is a walking city – the historic centre can be covered on foot – and we set out the next day to explore it. Many of the buildings have one or more courtyards and peeping in we could see decay, shabbiness and, at times, derelict interiors. The city had suffered horribly during the 1941-1944 siege. Once repaired and reconstructed, continued maintenance was neglected. By the 1970s and 80s, it was by some accounts quite rundown. Grand buildings were occupied by Soviet era bureaucracies, churches were either neglected or used to store food and vegetables – one escaped this fate only to become a museum to atheism! While neglect ate away at the edges, the saving grace was that nothing was actually torn down. The dowager still lived, but her circumstances had changed and for the worse.
The change, the refurbishment of the city, came recently. Putin and his successor as President, Medvedev, are both natives of St Petersburg. This meant that considerable work was done in preparation for the city's 300th anniversary celebrations. Years of grime, decay and neglect were undone. Churches, palaces, public spaces and statues were restored and the city of Peter and Catherine the Great lived once more.
Palace Square!
The Palace Square, a huge cobblestoned public plaza bracketed by the Winter Palace and the semi-circular General Staff Building, and punctuated by the large column celebrating Alexander's defeat of Napoleon was just steps from our hotel. This was where the Tsar's troops fired on unarmed protesters in 1905.
The General Staff Building
Sekar writes:
"Once Peter the Great consolidated his throne and defeated Russia's then traditional enemy Sweden, he decided to build a new capital rather than return to Moscow. Moscow symbolized all that was wrong with Russia: it was provincial and inward-looking, it was the place where rivals had tried to eliminate him, it was a place he hated.His new capital would be one that looked west to an enlightened Europe. He chose a site on the western periphery of his empire, on marshy ground where the river Neva emptied into the Gulf of Finland. It would serve as a port, as a place where he could keep an eye on the Swedes and, most importantly, a place that would be a window to Europe.
The city he built, St Petersburg, was a European city. Its architecture, its layout on a series of canals, its broad roads and grand squares were all European. It was, and is, like no other Russian city.
All this we had read before our visit and we had visions of European grandeur as our flight from Helsinki descended through low clouds to Pulkovo airport. We were disappointed. The airport appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. Lush green grass, stands of spruce trees: there was no hint that a large city was nearby. Broken tarmac was evident as we got off the plane and the terminal building looked pitifully small. Despite the late hour (close to 10pm) and the low clouds, it was light. A somewhat antiquated bus deposited us at the terminal. The late hour meant sparse crowds at the passport counter, but the officer took his time examining me, my passport, his computer, various items on his (hidden) desk and then repeating the process. At one point, after giving me a suspicious look, he picked up his phone. For a long moment or two I thought the Lubyanka beckoned, but then I heard the reassuring sound of rubber stamps on passport and exhaled in relief.
There was a half completed building outside, the road had seen better days and the lush grass hadn't been cut. Things didn't look very promising and the low clouds only added to the general air of decay and gloom.
Thankfully, things improved after that. The main highway was broad and smooth and we were soon entering the city. We passed large monuments to the defenders of the city during the long WW2 siege. We passed stately buildings, almost all 4 – 5 stories tall, more monumental memorials, large, tree-filled parks and then more and more signs that we were entering Peter the Great's city. Here, the buildings had pastel facades and ornate decorations. Each building was distinct, but there was harmony in the whole. The architectural references to Venice, Prague and Paris were obvious. We drove along a canal, crossed Nevsky Prospekt (in a way the Champs Elysee of St Petersburg) and were soon at our hotel. 11pm and it was still light – the famous 'white nights'.
St Petersburg is a walking city – the historic centre can be covered on foot – and we set out the next day to explore it. Many of the buildings have one or more courtyards and peeping in we could see decay, shabbiness and, at times, derelict interiors. The city had suffered horribly during the 1941-1944 siege. Once repaired and reconstructed, continued maintenance was neglected. By the 1970s and 80s, it was by some accounts quite rundown. Grand buildings were occupied by Soviet era bureaucracies, churches were either neglected or used to store food and vegetables – one escaped this fate only to become a museum to atheism! While neglect ate away at the edges, the saving grace was that nothing was actually torn down. The dowager still lived, but her circumstances had changed and for the worse.The change, the refurbishment of the city, came recently. Putin and his successor as President, Medvedev, are both natives of St Petersburg. This meant that considerable work was done in preparation for the city's 300th anniversary celebrations. Years of grime, decay and neglect were undone. Churches, palaces, public spaces and statues were restored and the city of Peter and Catherine the Great lived once more.
Palace Square!The Palace Square, a huge cobblestoned public plaza bracketed by the Winter Palace and the semi-circular General Staff Building, and punctuated by the large column celebrating Alexander's defeat of Napoleon was just steps from our hotel. This was where the Tsar's troops fired on unarmed protesters in 1905.
The General Staff BuildingThe General Staff building, imposing and majestic, had a large arch topped by a monumental martial sculpture connecting two wings which embraced the Square. The Winter Palace looked like a large green cake with an overdose of icing. The southern face with its ornate entrances faced the square, the other side looked out over the Neva, swift and cold in its rush to the sea, to the imposing Peter and Paul Fortress. Inside were the imperial rooms and the Hermitage Museum.
The Winter palace
The imperial rooms were breathtaking and overwhelming. Richly painted ceilings, acres of marble, malachite and plasterwork, gilded walls and furniture – did the Romanovs have a gold fetish? - intricately woven brocades and carpeting, sweeping staircases and statuary, it was opulence gone mad. Each room was different from the next, each, in its own way, was a feast for the eyes. It was easy to see why public discontent built up to the events of 1905 and 1917.
The Gold Drawing Room at the Winter Palace
Raphael Loggias - a complete copy of Raphaels' frescoes at the Vatican adornone of the Winter palace's corridors
Then there was the museum. The paintings are famous, of course, but there is so much more. The broad sweep of Russian history over close to 3000 years and over a vast landscape stretching from Siberia to Europe is covered. Artifacts, tools, armour, sculptures: various exhibits take in all these and more. And the paintings! Rembrandt, Titian, Da Vinci, Constable, Rubens (even paintings other than buxom, unclad women!), Breughel, Van Eyck, Monet, Manet, Degas, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Picasso, Matisse, are all there in good numbers. Add to that thousands of less well known works. A student of Art could be there for weeks taking it all in. A tourist intent on just ticking off 'famous' works to show off back home would still need the better part of a day. And there is plenty that is not on exhibit. All the works of art picked up by the victorious Soviet army in 1945 from Germany and elsewhere have never been exhibited. I can only hope that they see daylight soon.
St Isaac's Cathedral - one of the world's largest. Served as the Museum of Atheism during the Soviet era. Is still a museum, of art though.
Peter's compact Summer Palace
The Winter palaceThe imperial rooms were breathtaking and overwhelming. Richly painted ceilings, acres of marble, malachite and plasterwork, gilded walls and furniture – did the Romanovs have a gold fetish? - intricately woven brocades and carpeting, sweeping staircases and statuary, it was opulence gone mad. Each room was different from the next, each, in its own way, was a feast for the eyes. It was easy to see why public discontent built up to the events of 1905 and 1917.
The Gold Drawing Room at the Winter Palace
Raphael Loggias - a complete copy of Raphaels' frescoes at the Vatican adornone of the Winter palace's corridorsThen there was the museum. The paintings are famous, of course, but there is so much more. The broad sweep of Russian history over close to 3000 years and over a vast landscape stretching from Siberia to Europe is covered. Artifacts, tools, armour, sculptures: various exhibits take in all these and more. And the paintings! Rembrandt, Titian, Da Vinci, Constable, Rubens (even paintings other than buxom, unclad women!), Breughel, Van Eyck, Monet, Manet, Degas, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Picasso, Matisse, are all there in good numbers. Add to that thousands of less well known works. A student of Art could be there for weeks taking it all in. A tourist intent on just ticking off 'famous' works to show off back home would still need the better part of a day. And there is plenty that is not on exhibit. All the works of art picked up by the victorious Soviet army in 1945 from Germany and elsewhere have never been exhibited. I can only hope that they see daylight soon.
St Isaac's Cathedral - one of the world's largest. Served as the Museum of Atheism during the Soviet era. Is still a museum, of art though.
Peter's compact Summer PalaceThe river embankment stretching away from both flanks of the Winter Palace includes many fine buildings, parks, bridges, St Isaac's Cathedral and Peter's surprisingly modest city Summer Palace. Across the river from the Cathedral are the buildings of the university, and the Winter Palace itself faces the fortress which includes the Peter and Paul Cathedral where all the Romanovs are buried. We were walking along the river late one morning when there was a loud blast from the fortress followed by a puff of smoke. We learnt later that the last of the Romanovs, a Grand Duchess aged 95, had just been buried alongside her relatives. Beneath the fortress are dungeons which once hosted the likes of Gorky, Dostoevsky and Trotsky.
The Peter & Paul Fortress, on the other side of the Neva
Look around St Petersburg and, the cyrillic signs apart, there is little to remind you that you are in Russia. There is very little that is Russian about this city and there is nothing else in Russia quite like it. One landmark that is very Russian is the Church on Spilt Blood.
Church of Spilled Blood
Ceiling to floor mosaics!
The odd name refers to its founding on the site of the assassination of Czar Alexander II. Up close, it looks like a Lego or Disney caricature of a Russian church. Onion domes in crazy colours and patterns, each wall and turret looking like a different architect's work, large areas of stained glass and mosaic. A canal runs to one side, a large park lies on the other, tourist buses fill the plaza fronting it and, completing the picture of a Russian tourist spot, the crumbling building nearby that once housed the Tsar's stables. Inside, the building was astonishing. Every square inch of wall and ceiling was covered in mosaics depicting biblical scenes. A large pattern in marble covered the floor. Bright sunlight streaming in through the stained glass windows added colour to everything. The Russian Orthodox Church and the Greek Orthodox Church have a shared ancestry and there was much in this church that carried echoes of the Haghia Sophia in Istanbul. This church was badly damaged during the war. Restoration work was completed only a couple of years back.
A kilometre to the west, we sat in yet another tree-filled park adjoining the Cathedral of St Nicholas. A symphony of bells filled the evening air, children ran around, lovers on benches exchanged sweet nothings, bicyclists and roller bladers swerved and sped around the paths and a small army of pet dogs barked and sprinted their way around the grass. We were just a little off the main tourist track, sitting back and enjoying the late spring evening along with families from the neighbourhood. No one spoke English, but we felt comfortable just watching everyone else enjoying their evening in their city. This was not a fancy part of town. The restorers' brush hadn't touched much of it and the buildings looked worn and a bit shabby. The Cathedral shone, though. Restoration was almost complete.
A little to the north were two buildings that embodied St Petersburg culture. Between statues of Glinka and Rimsky Korsakov was the large, square building housing the St Petersburg (now Rimsky Korsakov) conservatory. Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky, Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Glazunov, Heifetz, Milstein and many others studied there and the teachers included the likes of Anton Rubinstein, Rimsky Korsakov and Leopold Auer. It was (and is) one of the great nurseries for classical music performers. Across the road stood the pale green and plaster building of the Mariinsky Theatre. The Nutcracker, Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty and other Tchaikovsky masterpieces premiered here. The likes of Nijinsky, Pavlova, Nureyev and Baryshnikov were its lead dancers.
Olesya Novikova & Leonid Sarafanov take a bow.
Inside, the hall has been restored to its former splendour. This theatre was where the Tsar watched ballet and much of the glitter and opulence we saw in the Winter Palace was here as well. The restoration did not extend to the seating. We sat in cramped seats and had to peer past the heads of those seated in front of us to see the performance.
Over the past decade and a half, the Kirov ballet company has regained its past renown. We watched a series of performances featuring Leonid Sarafanov, their young star: short pieces set to music by Czerny, Prokofiev's Prodigal Son choreographed by Balanchine, and the last act of Don Quixote, the Minkus – Petipa extravanganza complete with castanets and rakish costumes. Interestingly, most of those around us were very appreciative Russians. This was clearly not just a tourist trap. Cramped knees notwithstanding, I thoroughly enjoyed the evening. Lengthy breaks to catch up on champagne and caviar followed each piece and it was well past ten by the time it finished. No matter: bright sunshine bathed the city as we walked back to the hotel and the sight of the glowing dome of St Isaacs towering over the canals and lines of mansions was one to cherish.
Literary Cafe - from where Pushkin set off for his fatal duel with Baron d'Anthes (who seduced his wife), on 27th Jan 1837.
We took the hydrofoil to get there. High waves and strong winds buffeted us. Crossing on a regular boat would have had us sea-sick in seconds. The outskirts of the city as we headed out into the gulf were a bleak expanse of factories, Soviet-era apartment buildings and the docks and cranes of the port. Once out into the gulf, the shores were forested. The steel-grey waves whipped to a froth, the green forested shores and the blue skies were a nature lover's dream. At Peterhof, we chose to skip the gilded rooms and spent our time wandering through the gardens and enjoying the sunshine. It was wonderful taking in the fresh, clean air and all the greenery.
View from above the Grand Cascade, loking down towards the Gulf of Finland
All too soon, our time in St Petersburg was up. We drove past the institute where Mendeleev discovered the periodic table and Stalin-era factory where Putin's parents had worked and met.
Sunday afternoon, it seems, is when tourists depart St Petersburg. Pulkovo II was packed. A long line of luggage laden passengers snaked their way through an utterly inadequate room to a single bag scanner and a single metal detector. Each time it beeped, those behind had to wait while the offender tried again and again, unloading keys, coins and everything they should have unloaded in the first place. Time passed. Check in at the Finnair counter was quick. Then, another long wait at Passport Control. We had been told that Moscow airport had taken 2 hours to clear 20 incoming passengers. It looked as though the old Moscow – Petersburg rivalry was still on. Passports dealt with, we were confronted with yet another security check. There were two counters open, but one closed abruptly without explanation and all passengers pushed and shoved their way into the other one. Some very polite Austrians stood no chance. We used the autorickshaw technique of nudging into gaps while not allowing gaps to open up ahead of us. Two hours after we entered the airport, we finally emerged from security straight into the bus which took us to our flight.
The Victory Monument, erected in 1975, in memory of the city's 900 day siege during the second World War. The city did not surrender, but millions died
The lone surviving statue of Lenin, in St petersburg that was Leningrad. In fron the of the Communist party office.
Last views from the air...
Helsinki airport was cool, airy and with wide open spaces. What a relief! Another flight, a transfer to the domestic terminal and we were at IGI 2 in Delhi awaiting our flight to Madras. There were large crowds, yes, but these were efficiently dealt with. There was a bustle and general sense of purpose and the sheer number of passengers waiting to travel close to mid-day was quite astonishing. Pulkovo, Helsinki, IGI – three very different experiences but each a window into their respective societies and economies. It was nice to be back in seething, surging, moving India.
The Peter & Paul Fortress, on the other side of the NevaLook around St Petersburg and, the cyrillic signs apart, there is little to remind you that you are in Russia. There is very little that is Russian about this city and there is nothing else in Russia quite like it. One landmark that is very Russian is the Church on Spilt Blood.
Church of Spilled Blood
Ceiling to floor mosaics!The odd name refers to its founding on the site of the assassination of Czar Alexander II. Up close, it looks like a Lego or Disney caricature of a Russian church. Onion domes in crazy colours and patterns, each wall and turret looking like a different architect's work, large areas of stained glass and mosaic. A canal runs to one side, a large park lies on the other, tourist buses fill the plaza fronting it and, completing the picture of a Russian tourist spot, the crumbling building nearby that once housed the Tsar's stables. Inside, the building was astonishing. Every square inch of wall and ceiling was covered in mosaics depicting biblical scenes. A large pattern in marble covered the floor. Bright sunlight streaming in through the stained glass windows added colour to everything. The Russian Orthodox Church and the Greek Orthodox Church have a shared ancestry and there was much in this church that carried echoes of the Haghia Sophia in Istanbul. This church was badly damaged during the war. Restoration work was completed only a couple of years back.
A kilometre to the west, we sat in yet another tree-filled park adjoining the Cathedral of St Nicholas. A symphony of bells filled the evening air, children ran around, lovers on benches exchanged sweet nothings, bicyclists and roller bladers swerved and sped around the paths and a small army of pet dogs barked and sprinted their way around the grass. We were just a little off the main tourist track, sitting back and enjoying the late spring evening along with families from the neighbourhood. No one spoke English, but we felt comfortable just watching everyone else enjoying their evening in their city. This was not a fancy part of town. The restorers' brush hadn't touched much of it and the buildings looked worn and a bit shabby. The Cathedral shone, though. Restoration was almost complete.
St Nicholas' CathedralSky-blue walls rose up to meet ornate white plasterwork and, higher up, gilded domes that glittered in the northern sunlight. This was not a church for curious tourists. We could enter, but not the inner nave and altar. It was quiet inside. Framed icons covered the walls. Worshippers kissed them reverently and prayed silently. A nun walked around wiping the icons once each worshipper was done.
The Mariinsky theatre, home to the Kirov ballet
The Mariinsky theatre, home to the Kirov balletA little to the north were two buildings that embodied St Petersburg culture. Between statues of Glinka and Rimsky Korsakov was the large, square building housing the St Petersburg (now Rimsky Korsakov) conservatory. Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky, Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Glazunov, Heifetz, Milstein and many others studied there and the teachers included the likes of Anton Rubinstein, Rimsky Korsakov and Leopold Auer. It was (and is) one of the great nurseries for classical music performers. Across the road stood the pale green and plaster building of the Mariinsky Theatre. The Nutcracker, Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty and other Tchaikovsky masterpieces premiered here. The likes of Nijinsky, Pavlova, Nureyev and Baryshnikov were its lead dancers.
Olesya Novikova & Leonid Sarafanov take a bow.Inside, the hall has been restored to its former splendour. This theatre was where the Tsar watched ballet and much of the glitter and opulence we saw in the Winter Palace was here as well. The restoration did not extend to the seating. We sat in cramped seats and had to peer past the heads of those seated in front of us to see the performance.
Over the past decade and a half, the Kirov ballet company has regained its past renown. We watched a series of performances featuring Leonid Sarafanov, their young star: short pieces set to music by Czerny, Prokofiev's Prodigal Son choreographed by Balanchine, and the last act of Don Quixote, the Minkus – Petipa extravanganza complete with castanets and rakish costumes. Interestingly, most of those around us were very appreciative Russians. This was clearly not just a tourist trap. Cramped knees notwithstanding, I thoroughly enjoyed the evening. Lengthy breaks to catch up on champagne and caviar followed each piece and it was well past ten by the time it finished. No matter: bright sunshine bathed the city as we walked back to the hotel and the sight of the glowing dome of St Isaacs towering over the canals and lines of mansions was one to cherish.
Literary Cafe - from where Pushkin set off for his fatal duel with Baron d'Anthes (who seduced his wife), on 27th Jan 1837.Russia's turbulent history finds echoes everywhere in St Petersburg. The ship which fired the first shots of the 1917 revolution, the house Catherine the Great built for her paramour, the cafe where Pushkin had his last meal, the palace where Rasputin was murdered, all still exist and are part of the tourist itinerary. The past is interwoven with the present in almost every street, and, after a while, we ceased to notice the sight-seeing boats plying the canals with their eager tourists and commentary streaming from their loudspeakers.
Some thirty kilometres west of the city, on the southern shore of the Gulf of Finland, Peter built his getaway. Peterhof, as it is known, is a (relatively) modest, yellow (as opposed to green) version of the Winter Palace, flanked by some spectacular fountains and two large gardens. There is plenty of gold here as well, in the statuary amid the fountains and capping the cupolas of the chapels. The French garden is a formal one with clipped trees, lawns and flower beds arranged neatly around the fountains. The English garden is more like a forest: a thickly wooded expanse that runs down to the Gulf. Paths criss-cross it and it is a lovely place to be on a sunny spring afternoon.
The palace at Peterhof, with the magnificent and golden fountain in the foreground
Some thirty kilometres west of the city, on the southern shore of the Gulf of Finland, Peter built his getaway. Peterhof, as it is known, is a (relatively) modest, yellow (as opposed to green) version of the Winter Palace, flanked by some spectacular fountains and two large gardens. There is plenty of gold here as well, in the statuary amid the fountains and capping the cupolas of the chapels. The French garden is a formal one with clipped trees, lawns and flower beds arranged neatly around the fountains. The English garden is more like a forest: a thickly wooded expanse that runs down to the Gulf. Paths criss-cross it and it is a lovely place to be on a sunny spring afternoon.
The palace at Peterhof, with the magnificent and golden fountain in the foregroundWe took the hydrofoil to get there. High waves and strong winds buffeted us. Crossing on a regular boat would have had us sea-sick in seconds. The outskirts of the city as we headed out into the gulf were a bleak expanse of factories, Soviet-era apartment buildings and the docks and cranes of the port. Once out into the gulf, the shores were forested. The steel-grey waves whipped to a froth, the green forested shores and the blue skies were a nature lover's dream. At Peterhof, we chose to skip the gilded rooms and spent our time wandering through the gardens and enjoying the sunshine. It was wonderful taking in the fresh, clean air and all the greenery.
View from above the Grand Cascade, loking down towards the Gulf of FinlandAll too soon, our time in St Petersburg was up. We drove past the institute where Mendeleev discovered the periodic table and Stalin-era factory where Putin's parents had worked and met.
Sunday afternoon, it seems, is when tourists depart St Petersburg. Pulkovo II was packed. A long line of luggage laden passengers snaked their way through an utterly inadequate room to a single bag scanner and a single metal detector. Each time it beeped, those behind had to wait while the offender tried again and again, unloading keys, coins and everything they should have unloaded in the first place. Time passed. Check in at the Finnair counter was quick. Then, another long wait at Passport Control. We had been told that Moscow airport had taken 2 hours to clear 20 incoming passengers. It looked as though the old Moscow – Petersburg rivalry was still on. Passports dealt with, we were confronted with yet another security check. There were two counters open, but one closed abruptly without explanation and all passengers pushed and shoved their way into the other one. Some very polite Austrians stood no chance. We used the autorickshaw technique of nudging into gaps while not allowing gaps to open up ahead of us. Two hours after we entered the airport, we finally emerged from security straight into the bus which took us to our flight.
The Victory Monument, erected in 1975, in memory of the city's 900 day siege during the second World War. The city did not surrender, but millions died
The lone surviving statue of Lenin, in St petersburg that was Leningrad. In fron the of the Communist party office.
Last views from the air...Helsinki airport was cool, airy and with wide open spaces. What a relief! Another flight, a transfer to the domestic terminal and we were at IGI 2 in Delhi awaiting our flight to Madras. There were large crowds, yes, but these were efficiently dealt with. There was a bustle and general sense of purpose and the sheer number of passengers waiting to travel close to mid-day was quite astonishing. Pulkovo, Helsinki, IGI – three very different experiences but each a window into their respective societies and economies. It was nice to be back in seething, surging, moving India.
And now for some practical tips to visitors from Chennai/India
We enjoyed the Finn Air experience, andjudging from other reports regarding Moscow airport and aeroflot, I think it worked well, though there were long layovers at Helsinki. It was still the quickest way to St petersburg for us. Allow for atleast four days. We had four, and I still wanted a couple more days, a few things I would have loved to have done!
The reason I say this is -
1. The Hermitage museum/Winter Palace would take the good part of a day, even if you just did the highlghts.
2. The four large cathedrals - Church of Spilled Blood, Kazan, Isaacs and Nicholas which you might want to do (another day)
3. Peter & Paul fortress would take a half day
4. Exploring the canals, or going to Peterhof, just walking around (the weather is lovely!) another half a day.
5. Then there is Vassilevsky island, the parks, the ballet. there is also Pushkin (which we didnt see) which has Catherine's palace. This would be a half day excursion out of St P.
If you do a bus tour, then I guess you could take it all in, in two days. In the summer, the days are very long, so you can pack in a fair bit. We walked (and walked and walked), so it all took a bit more time, but then we could linger and do what we wanted to do. We stayed at the Kempinski, which was literally a stone's throw from the Hermitage, a great location and everything was within walking distance.
Some other tips -
# Please do get a guide book, it helps. we used the DK Eyewitness travel one (Rs 700).
# We at no point felt unsafe or threatened. The tourist areas are thronging with tourists. Its best to use the hotel safe for
documents, carry only the photocopy I guess. We did not use a cab at all, so I dont know about it. The Metro stations are supposed to be attractive and Stalinist, but we didnt have time to see any. There are trams and trolley buses as well.
# You can book a ticket for a ballet, online, before hand - we did, at the Mariinsky.
it..and there were no problems/hassles.
# you could also book tickets for the Hermitage online, which saves about an hour of queueing. The first Thursday of every month though is free entry!
# The cathedrals all charge about 350 rubles per adult. St Nicholas and Kazan had no charge for entry.
Continued here.
A male koel calls. Photo by Mr Ramanan
The female koel arrives. Photo by Mr Ramanan
The koel male has blue-green feathers, adding to its basically black plumage. Photo by Mr Ramanan
Collared Pratincole - Photo by Skandan
Collared Pratincole - Photo by Skandan
Grey plover, in breeding plumage. Sighted in Kelambakkam backwaters. Photo by Skandan
Lesser Sand plovers, in the sand! Photo by Skandan
Find the lone Terek sandpiper, among the lesser sand plovers. Photo by Skandan
Pacific golden plovers. Photo by Skandan
White-winged tern - breeding plumage. Sighted at Kelambakkam backwaters. Photo by Skandan
Stunning cliffs and ravines make up the Ranthambhore terrain.
The Banyan tree near Jogi Mahal, famous in its own right. 
Dhok trees, dry and bare in the summer
T 17, the tigress we saw several times, cooling off at the Padam lake. behind her are crocodiles on the mud island!
The terrain on the cliff top. These cacti were spectacular and added colour to the brown summer scene
The male tiger (I think), the one we did not see initially, but saw later as he slept on his back under a tree!
The one that rolled over and went to sleep, in front of us.
Was this T 17 again? It was a radio-collared tiger.
Kumbakarna, or so I thought as he slumbererd on and on!
Spot the tiger! T17 again rests at the base of the tree in the rear!
A flame of the forest tree with some flower. Its a common tree in Ranthambhore, though most of the other trees were in pod
Lakarda male- Photo by Mr Ramanan
Lakarda female-Photo by Mr Ramanan
Photo by Mr Ramanan
Peltophorum pterocarpum - copper pod 
Delonix regia - Gulmohar
Silk Cotton
Mango flowers
Neem flowers
Tabebuia pod
