A Return to Saint Petersburg!

If you are one of the two avid readers of blog, you may recall that I took a trip to St. Petersburg back in the end of October. Yes, I did, and I had a lovely time. So lovely, that of course I wanted to return...and during a time without snow. 

The second weekend in May marked my spring weekend getaway number 3. 

I traveled by train with my Richmond Virginia native roommate; Ashley, and our comical British fellas; Dudley and Tommas. We were in town from a Thursday evening-Sunday morning, and had two full days of adventuring. 

Take at look at some marvelous photos from my trip:

 Palace Square

 The Kazan Cathedral

 Backside of the Hermitage. I skipped a visit to this museum...as I spent five hours in here in October.

 Palace Square again!

 Spilt Blood Cathedral. It was beautiful in the snow, and it is beautiful in the sun.

On Friday, Dudley and I ventured a bit away from the heart of St. Petersburg...to Peterhof! In German, Peterhof means "Peter's court". Peter the Great used Versailles as an inspiration when he decided to build an imperial palace in the suburbs of his new city.  Often, Peterhof is referred to as "The Versailles of Russia".

It is no secret that I am not fluent in Russian. As a result...I signed us up a tour of the Cascades...to be led in Russian. So here are photos of the Cascades...sorry, no information. I got lost as soon as the tour started..as Dudley and I were too busy laughing at our communication error to try to follow what the guide was saying. It is ok, I made up my own story about the cascades (or as I fabricated it as "Peter the Great's man cave") and it was pretty to look at:

We lost count of how many butts and fountains we saw at Peterhof.

 Gulf of Finland...connects to the Baltic Sea

Peterhof was huge! There was something beautiful around every corner. Things just continued to pop out of nowhere for hours!

Friday evening, we enjoyed a dinner boat cruise. We set sail at 9:00 pm... the sun up with zero intentions of setting in the following couple hours! It was beautiful!

My stunning travel buddies:

 The cruise ended around 11 pm...with the sun setting. It was lovely!

The highlight of Saturday, was our trip to Kuntzkamera. This is a museum which was started by Peter the Great. He was really interested in anatomy, and started a collection of abnormal bodies. What I mean is...there were countless amounts of preserved (in pheramaldahyde)  fetuses and babies. One eye, 12 fingers, fused legs like a mermaid, all sorts of siamese...you name it. Pictures were not allowed, but there were certainly many interesting things to see.

When we returned to Moscow Sunday evening, I was shocked. It was in the 80s (fahrenheit) outside! That was the warmest I have ever experienced in Russia...and over-dramatically believed I was going to melt to death. It took me about a week to acclimate my mind and body to the fact that when it gets hot in a place like Russia...I will be deprived of my beloved air conditioning.

-Gina

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

I've been robbed.

Listen...if you think you are being as safe as possible while traveling abroad, in a city, or ANYWHERE...I have news for you. You're not as careful and safe as thieves are professionals and ruthless.

Almost every time I leave my apartment, I think to myself "this is a risk". I have always been aware that anything can happen. And I have always thought I am being careful and safe: Carry a purse that is strapped around my body rather than just on one shoulder, carry it in front of my body so I can see it, make sure it is zipped shut (more often than not...I also have a hand clutched over the zipper of my purse.), passport separate from my wallet, important cards kept at home, etc, etc, etc.  This particular small purse of mine which I will talk about...has a broken zipper, which makes it harder to open and close. Thought that'd be a plus: "Oh, no one will be able to open this thing!"

So here is what happened:

It was a nice sunny Sunday. My roommate and I were on our way to Victory Park in Moscow. Traveled via metro, as usual. When we got off the metro, we weren't sure which side to exit from to get to the park. We conversed in English our plan of attack, which was to simply go above ground, look, and come back if we went the wrong way.

I'm assuming this was when I was made a target.

Note to self: Never talk (yeah right...). Never look like you are contemplating directions.
To a pickpocketer: English + Pointing = Cha-Ching.

We are above ground, see we need to be on the other side of the street. I'm in awe of what I see in the park and exclaim something along the lines of "WOW, hope they have ice cream over there!" We descended down the very wide open (seemingly empty) stairs to go under the street which leads to the other side. As I was walking down, I felt absolutely NOTHING. I saw absolutely NO ONE. But I had a weird intuitive thought to look at my purse...which was situated at my hip...and UNzipped. I didn't unzip it. Ashley didn't unzip it. I knew instantly my wallet was missing, before I even felt for it. Then things became blurry, as a woman who was walking behind me on the stairs was telling me in Russian that a man had just took my phone, and went that way...he is wearing a scarf. It took me about 30 seconds to focus on what precisely she was telling me, as I rapidly threw "what?" "where?" and "I' don't understand" at her in Russian. I knew it was my wallet and not phone... so in a growing state of shock, I was confused.

My instinct was to chase. I ran up the stairs frantically with a rapidly increasing heart rate, while I felt for my wallet which WAS wedged under my iPad...this confirmed it was gone. I spun around...looking as hard as I could in all direction for mystery man with a scarf. There was a bus stop...and a man without a scarf. As this all happened very quickly, my roommate followed behind me asking "What are you doing? Where are you going? Did you drop your phone?"

Thats the moment I remember I just stopped. I stopped looking hard. I stopped the frantic spinning. I stopped hearing everything around me. I stopped breathing out. And to answer Ashley's questions...somehow muttered "no".

Even if I could locate the thief...do we honestly believe I could tap him kindly on the shoulder and politely ask "May I please have my wallet back? I think you may have accidentally picked it up from inside my purse under all my things. You must own the same polka dot wallet, and got mine confused with yours." Or do we think I would yell "Give me my money right now!" in Russian with my thicker than anyone's American accent...and end up beaten, or completely ignored? In a very quick train of thought, I considered both of these things. I realistically knew that approaching the thief...as a foreign, small, unarmed female...was impossible.

I have never felt so utterly helpless, stupid, angry, embarrassed, violated, and scared in my whole life.

You aren't supposed to have your things stolen. I've heard of it happening, and witnessed it happening to friends and friends and friends....but thought "that won't happen to me, never". Avoid the beggars, don't be fooled by the children asking you for money, hold onto your things tightly in a crowded metro, don't walk in dark abandoned alleyways, don't wave your wallet about, etc. But how am I supposed to avoid the complete "shadow men"?. As in...pickpockets so good at what they do...I did not even see him... in broad daylight. In an open (and I thought empty) area.

I lost a generous amount of money that was in my wallet, as well as my college student ID (no more museum discounts). But what sickens me even more...is that a dirty thief had his hand in my purse while it was on my body...and acted stealthy enough...that he could feel around UNDER my iPad and remove my wallet without me feeling or seeing a thing. Had to have been done within 10 seconds, if my head was turned to look across the street...opposite way from my purse.

Of course I was incredibly upset. What gave him the right to my personal space? What good did he do to deserve my hard-earned money?
What puts people in a position where they must steal?
Why are there so many of them?
With the time and energy put into training to become a professional pickpocket...said bum could have been training to be magician...and by now in life would've made it big in Vegas.

I don't even know what this man I hate most looks like.
There is absolutely nothing I can do...except get over it and carry on. I can't find him to give a piece of my mind. I can't tell the police...HA like they would do anything about it here. I can't sit and cry. I can't be scared to ever go outside again. This can happen anywhere, and to anyone. He has got my money now...but guess what? Tomorrow it will be gone and he will need to steal again.

I'm thankful that I have the opportunity to make an honest living.  I will never need to steal. You can't have a pleasant life living as a robber.  Its impossible. He can't be having a good time. I believe that given his lifestyle...inevitably something terrible and unfortunate will become of him.

So...besides immediately going home, putting on my swimsuit, sitting on my balcony with an ice cream cone (courtesy of fabulous roommate), while painting my nails and listening to my favorite uplifting tunes and researching beaches in Spain I'm going to vacation to in June.... to make myself feel better:
I've been pretending that my robber tripped on a rock, fell in a river...and in the process, my fat wallet slipped out of his hand and into the hands of homeless orphans. That makes me feel so much better.

Wrong place at the wrong time. I'm telling you. It will happen to anyone.

It could be a lot worse. I could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time in Boston, or Sandy Hook, or Aurora, or the LA Fitness I was a member to in Bridgeville, Pennsylvania the summer of 2009.

I hate violence. I hate crime.

I cannot wait to teach and encourage my future first graders starting in September (who understand English) how to simply be good people.
I just can't wait.

-Gina

Oslo, Norway

....this was my spring weekend getaway number two...back in the beginning of May!

Overall impression of Oslo, Norway: 

1. Clean. 

     This water in the Oslo Fjord, it the cleanest water in the world.

2. Old. 

First constructions on the Akershus Fortress, which is situated up on a cliff overlooking the fjord...dates back to the 1200s. It was ordered to be built by King Hakon of Norway to protect the capital against the Swedish invasions. In its day, the Akershus Fortress has also been used as a prison and dungeon for  political prisoners. The only foreign enemy to ever capture the Akershus Fortress...were the Nazis. They occupied it until 1945. 

View from the Fortress. 

3. Efficient.

To tour the city, my Richmond, Virginia native roommate; Ashley, and I went on an excursion called "Viking Biking". This was a fun and quick way to see the main sites of the city, and hear about it's history. We cycled with a few other tourists, and our guide...and literally in 3 hours hit all the main points of the city. This was the first thing we did in Oslo...and found ourselves thinking "what do we do now...we've seen it all"...for the duration of the trip! 

With the tour we cycled to the and throughout the Akershus Fortress, the Oslo Fjord, The Royal Palace, the National Theatre, and basically everything I'm blogging about.

...and when we weren't using bicycles, or going by foot...we used the buses and metro. Both of which were incredibly easy to use and in impeccable shape. 

The Oslo Royal Palace

All through the 1800s...there were some quarrels between the University, and the city. The city did not want a theatre, as they feared it would be too scandalous. Obviously...at some point in the end...the University won. 

This photo is taken from just in front of the Royal Palace. The street in this picture is significant because all on one street you have the past (Royal Palace), the present (parliament building...its way at the end and hard to see here), and the future (the University...which was under construction...but down the street on the left)

4. Safe

This is the parliament building. It is pretty much in the center of Oslo....which is such a safe city that the Prime Minister can come and go as he pleases from this building....by himself. No security. And he is fine. 

5. Expensive

-This is the most expensive port in the world. 

-A bus ride to and from a museum...nearly cost 20 dollars.

-Honestly can't recall how much other things cost...there came point during the first hour of my trip where I purchased a train ticket to the city from the airport... that I stopped converting to dollars. It hurt my stomach to do so.  

YOLO

6. Moose

I ate moose stew one night for dinner.

7. Friendly

The local Norwegians had the best English I've ever heard. 

Everyone insisted on helping us. Ashley and I didn't know what to do with the excessive amounts of kindness from strangers. That is not a regularity in Moscow. We felt like the rude ones. Ladies in restaurants would come up to us...and ask if they can translate the menu. The lady in the airport at security told me "Oh! It is so nice to see you smile". She had no idea how happy I was to see HER smile. There have been times in an airport in Moscow...when at that point, the security flat out asks me "You have weapon?" 

To seek coverage from the wind as we read our iPad maps, Ashley and I stepped inside the University building which was being renovated. When we saw a maintenance man in the building, we both thought the same thing: "we're about to be kicked out of here...avoid eye contact". Boy were we pleasantly surprised when we were completely wrong as this nice old man kindly asked "Can I help you?" Not only did he direct us to nice restaurants for dinner...but on our way out of building, he let us see this painting...which currently is not open for the public. 

This is "The Sun" by Edward Munch. Mr. Munch is also responsible for "The Scream". You know what I am talking about. The painting of the ghost-like dude on a bridge...screaming. That painting, by the way is set in a location not far from Oslo. We later actually saw an original painting of The Scream at the National Museum...but sorry photos were not allowed. 

8. Vikings

On our second day in Oslo, we toured a Viking ship museum. These ships were excavated in the 1800s outside of Oslo. I believe they are the oldest Viking ships in the world.

 The ship being excavated

So you know Greenland and how it is not really green? Do you know why it is called "Green"land? Because the viking who discovered it, wanted people to have interests in going there. BUT...it was a cold-no-fun land. So he called it "Greenland"to entice people to go.

 I smell a fibber. 

9. Naked

"Attack of the Flying Babies" ??

The photos above are from Vigeland Sculpture Park.  In the early 1900s..the sculptor Gustav Vigeland was given an endless supply of funds and an empty park. He was told that he has he rest of his life to do whatever he wanted in this park to make it a beautiful place for people to visit. He also was given a home right outside of the park. Lucky man.  Anyway, he filled it with I don't even know how many...naked sculptures. Lost track of the number of butts. 

I wonder the reaction of the first visitors to this park. If it was such a scandal to have a theatre at a university at this time..I can only imagine the publics' feedback to the naked park.

10. Tall

Norwegians are tall and beautiful. 

I had to stand on tiptoe to see myself in bathroom mirrors. 

I was given the smallest bike available for the Viking Biking tour...and it was still too big.

My feet could dangle while sitting in seats on almost all public transportation. 

Even the little people were tall. 

I saw a midget who was my height. 

I'm not kidding. 

11. Trolls

...they were everywhere. I thought about purchasing a book about a tale involving trolls for my future 1st grade students in North Carolina...but if I'm being honest, the pictures flat out terrified me. I don't want to be responsible for the nightmares of 20 or so 6 and 7 year olds! 

To sum up Oslo:

Safe tall efficient moose, clean expensive friendly vikings, old naked trolls.

-Gina