Awoke to rough, blustery conditions. There were white-caps inside the harbour and
seven cruise ships now bobbed at the pier.
We later found it to be so windy, that there were even white-caps in the
narrow canals. Spent an hour waiting to
get on our bus (after clearing passport control), sat in the bus for an hour
waiting to depart. Arrived finally at
the Hermitage on time, to find a 1-km long line of people waiting outside in
the rain to get tickets. You’re thinking
Royal Caribbean no doubt called ahead and reserved tickets. Nope.
Stood in what soon became a monsoon, for 45 minutes while more bus-loads
arrived and queued-up behind us. Our
guide, a vertically-challenged lady who thought she was communicating with us
via our intermittent radio headsets, would periodically excite us by
disappearing and calling out “Over here!” without specifying where. Eventually we got so fed up that we began to
chant “Bring back the bus!”. To no
avail. She disappeared one last time to
get tickets and left half of us
wandering the wet street in front.
Reg decided she had gone inside and bullied our way through
the throng. No sign of the guide except
the occasional distant noise on the radio.
Another guide phoned her and we were told to wait by the ATMs, which we
did for 20 minutes. Then we went to the
museum’s help desk who paged the guide in PA-distorted Russian. She never responded, but ten minutes later,
Paul’s extra height allowed him to spot her disappearing down a nearby corridor
and we tore off in pursuit.
Thirty-thousand people a day visit the Hermitage. They all have to enter through one door and exit through one door and
buy tickets at one desk. On Monday,
Royal Caribbean had been told that the museum was closed for the day, so they
rescheduled all the Monday tours to Tuesday in addition to the ones already
scheduled. Now 30,000 impatient, angry, wet people crowded the
halls, plus seven cruise ships worth of tourists, each struggling to follow their guides through the mob. Our guide continued to hold the paddle with
our tour number at knee height, so one of the taller tour members volunteered
to hold it up so we might have a shot at seeing it in the scrum. Paul took up a position halfway back in the
group and kept his silly, wet, white, Tilley hat on so the back half of the
group could key on him. He was tall
enough to see the first volunteer and relay direction changes to the rest. In this way, order was restored.
We were then treated to a high-speed trot through some of
the museums 400 open rooms (there are over 1,000 rooms in the palace) and
glimpsed some of the treasures in passing while striving not to lose contact
with our peripatetic guide and her lousy radio. In sum, it
is very Versailles-like and helps drive home why there was a Russian
Revolution. Come in winter when you can spend a few days in peace and quiet to truly appreciate it.
Huddled masses lining up to get into the Hermitage. We can't even see the entrance from here.
Bust of Catherine
One of many magnificent rooms
Romanov throne room
One of many sculpture galleries.
All in all, the day was pretty horrible, salvaged only partially when Paul snagged a mickey of Kalashnikov vodka in the duty-free shop.
We may or may not sail for Helsinki tonight, weather permitting. The port of St. Pete's is shallow and dangerous in high winds (currently down to 40 knots).
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