Travel Writer, Russia: ‘We left St Petersburg by train to Moscow on a 100-year-old overnight sleeper’

[This story is one of ten shortlisted in the 2015 Irish Times Amateur Travel Writer competition]

We were standing in front of a seven-and-a-half-foot skeleton of the manservant of Peter the Great (Bourgeois) on the banks of the River Neva, St Petersburg. It’s not his height that fascinates, more the fact the Peter had extracted his teeth (after death hopefully) to go on display with the thousands of other exhibits of the Kunstkammer – known locally as The Museum of Curiosities.

We had already passed (very rapidly) by his Frederick Ruysch inspired collection of preserved foetuses, and tutted about the Tsar’s poor taste in displaying these babies, only to be corrected later.

Apparently Peter had initiated a collection of stillborn and very ill babies in order to dubunk the superstitions of the Russians and their fear of “monsters”. In his day, visitors had to drink a stiff vodka before entering. If only we had known.

St Petersburg was our first stop on a “Russia on a Rouble” tour – we had very little money, and had managed to get cheap flights. It was only after we had booked that we discovered how difficult it was to get a visa. But we made it . St Petersburg – weird and wonderful during White Night’s 24-hour daylight. We had visited the original home of Peter the Great, a small (by Russian standards) “hut” near the banks of the Neva.

This wide river holds host to the old and the new that so encapsulate Russia today – jet ski’s churning up the water alongside tugboats and further up the river, the monstrous cruise ships docking for a night on a Northern Cities cruise. The city is criss-crossed by a network of canals, giving it a very peaceful air.

As independent travellers in St Petersburg, the city takes a little getting used to. Metro stations are signposted using both the English and Cyrillic alphabet, and once you get the hang of them, they are a fantastic way to get around the city cheaply. The stations themselves are museums: grandiose works of art, depicting significant events in Russian history and culture.

We had read that the metro stations are considered “military installations” and so it was forbidden to take photographs. Unfazed, we hopped from line to line to find the most beautiful stations, busily clicking away. Nearly at our last destination (a particularly beautiful statue of Pushkin) a large burly Russian man approached us. He muttered urgently in Russian. I had managed to learn a (very) little Russian before we came. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but got enough of the jist to understand the word “military”.

We looked down towards the end of the platform, only to see two heavily-armed men in uniforms rapidly walking in our direction. Fortunately, just then the metro arrived to whisk us away. Did I take photographs at the next stop? Of course. Sure it was Pushkin. The other half is just about talking to me.

We left St Petersburg by train to Moscow on a 100-year-old overnight sleeper, in a shared carriage with two others. One an American student, the other a Russian scientist. The train hurtled through the poverty stricken countryside as we chatted.

What was the thing he found most different about being in Europe when he was finally allowed to travel? That there is tourist information everywhere. And that’s what we found most challenging. Forbidden to use a SatNav, we didn’t. But in the complete absence of any guidance for tourists, we had to rely heavily on the generosity of the locals. Without them, we never would have even found our hotel.