CHASING PAINT

Prague, Day 6

April 6, 2016 by Virginia Parker Leave a Comment

Robin headed out to wander around Prague gardens, and later took a Taste of Prague food tour. I walked up the private stairway from the Golden Well through the emperor’s garden to the Lobkowicz palace. A quiet morning spent viewing LobKowicz family portraits and artifacts that illuminated the family’s history. Not so much about the art as the story of the Lobkowicz lineage and the turbulence of 20th century losses and rebounds.

The audio guide is excellent work and the marketing aspect is a thing of beauty. That said, the portraits as works of art… not so much. It’s the historical signifigance that gives them luster. Like a plain woman or unattractive man from a distinguished family, who has a big heart and a great personality, they are doing the best they can with what they’ve got. Objects and paintings are beautifully presented and the audio guide is lively and well-written, with an eye to the captivating historical details. The staff is cordial and helpful, no glowering. The building is clean and feels fresh. Objects are dramatically presented, like the red rooms of pistols, swords, and daggers hung in a true wheel of fortune.

The blue room of musical instruments and musical manuscripts soothed my burnt out retinas after all the artillery. It’s clearly the room the present-day head of the family, William Lobkowicz, loves. His greatest source of familial pride, and justly so, is that his great-great-great-great-grandfathe gave Ludwig van Beethoven a stipend so the notoriously difficult composer could create his immortal works. The collection also includes pages of musical notations made by the hand of the master himself. Ah, Amadeus.

The dog room struck a chord with my dog loving heart. Maddie girl, I miss you! And there were objects you just don’t see every day, like this oil lamp in the form of an acrobat.

After hours of viewing, I had tasty lunch on the terrace over looking the gardens and distant spires of Prague, with free, blazing fast wifi.

Did a quick in and out of St Vitus – too many tourists. Preferred my memory of the choir singing from my first visit. Seeing the castle complex in good weather was a much difference experience.

Left by chance at the time of the changing of the guard, so got to witness that that bit of military performance art. Walked down the hill to the sounds of country music on my iPod, and over to the Church of Our Lady Victorious, home of the Infant of Prague. So many outfits! Reminded me of those designer replicas of Dior and Chanel made for Barbie. Just so over the top… well, here’s a sample of his lingerie.

Back at the hotel, they have a nightly light tea or coffee and canapé offering. This night was particularly exceptional. Yep, I am officially spoiled rotten.

Prague, Day 5

April 4, 2016 by Virginia Parker Leave a Comment

Charles Bridge Woke at six, slipped quietly into the shower and by seven was walking down the hill to the Charles Bridge. It was very pleasant at this time of day, not long after sunrise. Cool enough for a coat, but not for long. It’s a perfect perfect day – bright blue clear sky, warm sun, cool breeze. April weather; from sleet to sweet.

I ambled across past the age-blackened statues of Gods and Saints, and made an audiotape using John Cage 4:33. John Cage. A trio of swans flew over my head – a lifetime first for me. Three Czech soldiers walked by, two of them women in full make up, with charmingly disarrayed versions of a French twist, and machine guns. There are a few photographers with tripods, and several couples sightseeing, and groups of young adults, laughing and flirting, on their way to work. I asked a nice woman passerby to take my photo by the statue of St John Nepomuk.
His story: he served as the queen’s confessor and when he wouldn’t tell the king her secrets, the irate monarch had him pitched off the bridge, drowned in the Vltava, and five stars appeared over the water.

Picked up toasted bagels at Bohemian Bagels and headed back to the room. We caffeined up and walked up the long stairs to the castle complex. Robin stopped to strike a pose in an arch.

I stopped to catch my breath long enough to thank Jessica Bowman, trainer extraordinaire, who got me in good enough shape to make it to the top.

Loreto Church Strolled through the complex to the Loreto church, founded in 1626 by Baroness Benigna Katharina von Lobkowitz. In the center courtyard is copy of the Italian Santa Casa, where an angel informed Mary of her status as mother-to-be. Decorated with statues and reliefs on the outside, it’s surrounded by a storyed cloister with corner chapels. One chapel had what appeared to be Christ on the cross in a violet dress.

St Wilgefortis story: She didn’t want to wed a heathen and prayed to be saved from marriage. Miraculously, she grew a full beard that left her hirsute and unwed. Her irritated father had her crucified for her disobedience. Less heart-rending attractions for pilgrims are the charming clarion bells and a staggering amount of bejeweled religious swag. From gorgeous embroidered gloves,

to multiple monstrances dripping with jewels.

The diamond monstrance, known as the Prague Sun, was bedazzled with 6,222 diamonds, made possible by Countess Ludmila Eva Frances Kolowrat, who donated the gems from her wedding dress. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

The Church of the Nativity of Our Lord was Rococo eye candy and made me glad I remembered to look up.

Sternberg Palace

Just what I love – excellent paintings. Favorites include a painting of Luke, the painter’s patron saint, and a virgin with a basket of mending, or perhaps she is making diapers.

A still life of bread and oysters is supposed to warn us against sin. I dunno, it looks more celebratory to me. I think the painter was winking at the viewer. Exhibit A: that naughty loaf of bread.

Walked back down to the bridge, and lo and behold, there’s a film crew setting up shop. Wherever I go, there’s Robert’s world (and now RK and Parker.) Made feel right at home

A great, late lunch at Pod Vezi, down by the bridge. I recommend the leek soup.

Tomorrow, back to the complex to tour the Lobkowitz palace, and over to see the wardrobe of the Infant of Prague. Robin says it’s not to be missed.

Prague, Day 4

April 3, 2016 by Virginia Parker Leave a Comment

Whoa, time flies. I feel like I’ve barely arrived.
Robin’s iPhone alarm woke us, and we took our time getting going. The sun was blazingly bright. I could hear the rumble and roar of a crowd, plus loudspeakers, but not sure what this meant. There is such a carnival atmosphere here – it’s like the city is on perpetual spring break. Turned out they were hosting Sportisimo Prague Half Marathon. The streets and all five of the bridges were teeming with runners in bright sportswear the colors of jellybeans. http://www.runczech.com/en/events/sportisimo-prague-half-marathon-2016/index.shtml
Oblivious, I was downing my espresso and porridge, squinting at the glaringly bright blue sky, and switching over into my good weather plan. Robin left to meet her tour group at 10:30 and steamed off to Kutna Hora. I nabbed UBER into the city and went to the Kinsky Palace museum. It’s got an extensive oriental art collection and I found much to interest me. I loved the inscribed bronze mirror; now that I’ve worked with bronze and know what a beast it is to shape, I have great admiration for anyone who manages to subdue it.

The inscription reads:
“Look in the mirror and you will see a flower, look at the water and the full moon will appear. The emperor can see that she is wearing the dress he has given her, and she, looking in the mirror, has put makeup on her face “
The ambiguity gave me shivers. Does it imply her face is as lovely as the moon or that the face she shows her lover is beautiful but false?
Portraits of Buddhas and courtesans, scrolls of god and demons, samurai sword belt buckles, and netsukes, including this little guy.

Fascinating hardware galore. As I put together reliquary inspired boxes, I have a new interest in the design of hinges, clasps and locks.

My favorite piece was an ivory carving of a mother nursing her son. Those were happy days.

The top floor had some classical works, some midcentury moderns, like Picasso and Miró, and an odd upside down snail shell sculpture that made a low bass humming noise.
A trio of skulls with the title Winners Podium cracked me up.

Winner of ‘most disappointing’ was a video playing behind a wall in a dim corner. The image was a cake with a single candle and the soundtrack was hoarse, guttural screaming. Whatever they are paying that guard, isn’t enough. She looked rattled.

Followed my Google map back towards the Malà Strana, passing through the main square and the famous clock.

Hiked back across the river, elbowing my way through the throngs on the Charles Bridge, and up the hill to the KGB museum. Child of the Cold War era and Ian Fleming spy novels, I was raised in fear of merciless and cruel Russian operatives, and Joe Stalin’s soviet counterintelligence agency, SMERSH. Naturally, I had to see this.
The museum is two small rooms packed with memorabilia that is a combination of quaint, cool, and creepy, including a pistol that pops out of a cigarette case, projectile poisons and their antidotes, knives that could be fired like guns, tiny cameras, coded microdots and the micro-lense to view them, uniforms for women snipers, sabers and knives stained with Nazi blood, radios that look like car batteries, perfume specially made for women KGB operatives, shoes woven out of birch bark by Gulag prisoners, military issue hatchets that slice, chop and pry up nails. Each item was lovingly described, especially the evolution of the gun from variations on the Kalashnikovs to AK47s. The guide, Andrei, did a very effective show and tell of how the disguised spy weaponry and the Red Army issue armament functioned. His spiel was a performance, complete vocal gymnastics and sound effects of death by knives and bullets. His explanation of how to decapitate someone using ‘Stalin’s necklace’, a garrote made out of lethal sharp, miniature barbed wire, was especially effective.

It was a rapid fire but lengthy version of the history of the Soviet spy era with an emphasis on the founders, an overview of the rise and fall of communism with great quantities of statistics, plus fun facts about the selection and training of female snipers, defeating Nazis, Gulag ‘volunteers’ who hand dug miles of canal, and cocaine (“Baltic Tea”) as a staple of the Red army. No wonder Colonel Rosa Klebb was so cranky (and so thin).

Books, Books, Books = Heaven

April 2, 2016 by Virginia Parker Leave a Comment

Up at 7, thanks to alarm on phone. Showered, dressed and up to breakfast in the hotel dining room which does not disappoint. Joined by Robin, who’d made her first espresso before I was out of the shower.

I gulped my porridge and double shot cappuccino and flew down the stairs to meet my guide, Nina, who arrived promptly at 8:30.

Weather was cold and raining or sleeting while we did our tour. First driven around in a nice car while she pointed out buildings of interest from, from a queen’s renaissance palace to a palace repurposed for KGB interrogations, to the famous Fred & Ginger dancing office towers, which were more delightful in person than I anticipated.

Back up the hill to our first stop, the Strahov Monastery Library.

I’d signed up for a private tour, but thought that meant she’d walk me in and tell me about it. No, we had the whole of the library to ourselves, while tourist peered in, gawking from the cordoned off doorway. Bookshelves filled with massive volumes in double rows on Philosophy, mathematics, and law. Cabinetry that could display books with multiple shelves on a rotating wheel, a clever table that parted to reveal a chair which folded to become steps, bindings made of white leather (from pigs), and brown leather (from cows).

Illuminated manuscripts, painted maps of Europe in the form of a virgin, or at least certainly a woman. Nothing on the map to prove the V- word was apt. though the Czech Republic was strategically located in the center of her abdomen.

My guide’s mother was a teacher of library science, so Nina understood my astonished reverence. The ceiling mural was painted by a monk, whose name means ‘nose.’ He made sure he would be remembered by giving all the figures imposing snouts. The other long library troom was paneled in walnut and two stories high, with spiral stair hidden behind secret doors in the shelves. That ceiling celebrated the quest for wisdom, and the love of one woman for her sombrero.

There are 13 monks there now. Few Czech people are religious nowadays, as a result of harsh anti–worship measures during soviet rule, (police blocking the church doors on Sunday, taking names and threatening their families and jobs) but she insists they are spiritual quoting a Czech writer as saying, “I am 100 percent atheist, but I worry God’s gonna be mad at me for that.”

Rejoining the throngs of umbrella toting tourists and walked through the castle complex, passing guards in elaborate uniforn and gothic stone work galore. We toured St Vitus, begun in 930, worked on as war and $$ permitted, and completed in 1929 – 600 years of ongoing home improvement. Mostly gothic and neo-gothic, with Renaissance and baroque details were added over the following centuries.

Loved the 14th-century mosaic of the Last Judgment above the Golden Gate, the baroque silver tomb of St John of Nepomuck, the ornate Chapel of St Wenceslas, and a marvelous art nouveau stained glass by Alfons Mucha. As I looked around at the might and splendor, voices of a choir singing a cappella rose above the shuffling din of tourists.

Visitors like the rest of us; the choir members spontaneously broke into song that the lovely acoustics carried. A hush descended as the crowd transformed itself into a circle holding up iphones, their video recorders a casting a nimbus of cell phone light around the singers, like a halo of respect and attention.

Out into the castle complex courtyards. It’s cold and raining and I’m wet even under my happy blue skies umbrella, so after Nina explains why she doesn’t think Isis will target Czech – the communists wall that kept them in, kept others out, and the Muslim population is infinitesimal, we agreed to change the subject to Czech government through the ages, and I half listened while following her. At this point the names and dates of various Czech rulers begin to slide into a puddle in my mind. I was soaked and shivering, so we stopped for a hot chocolate at the Lobkowicz café. Revived, we headed down the hill, past scenic overlooks with impressionist views of this city of domes and spires cradled in fog and rain. Sleet began to bounce off the cobblestone, as we picked out way down a walkway flanked by grape vines.

I heard so very much about Czech history and culture, complete with names and dates by the dozens, that I only recall a tenth of what I was told. The Protestants who hid under the queen’s voluminous skirts when the mob came to throw them out the windows, the visionary who said build the town here and name it after the first thing you see people doing , which happened to be placing the threshold of a doorway, thus Praha. My eyes were reeling from the splendor while my heart was breaking from the tragedy – the philosophy student who self-immolated in protest, the Russian Orthodox church who hid men in the WWII resistance after they assassinated a Nazi officer (they were hunted drowned in the crypt when the Nazis couldn’t get to them any other way.)

Back to the room around 2pm. When Robin returned from wandered around the castle complex we exchanged stories and best of tips. A brief rest, then out for dinner. The first place we tried turned us away, the next was by the river, and fancy but you only live once. So it was boars’ neck stew for her and flank steak for me.

The Maitre d’ had lived in Key West, so we chatted about that for a bit. He loved the freedom and openness of American society, but came home to help out his aged parents. He was expecting a call from his wife, pregnant with their first child and a day past her due date, any moment.

I walked back to the hotel in the dark, supported by my daughter’s steady arm and keen eyes – “Curb! Hole!”

Tomorrow she goes on a day trip group tour to Kutna Hora, the famous Bone Church, and I’m following one of my audio walking tours.

Prague, Day 2, Thursday

April 1, 2016 by Virginia Parker Leave a Comment

Late start at 8, staggering from the upheaval in hours and, it must be said, my own foolishness. After nearly falling asleep the night before at 7, I decided to stay up until 10, and then kept myself awake until after 1:30 to finish the book I was reading.

Opened the window and made a sound tape of a Prague morning. Zipped up the stairs to Terasa U Zlaté studnē – the top floor restaurant with lush views and a lavish buffet. My breakfast was porridge made with cream, cinnamon sugar (my request) and ripe fruit, beautifully arranged. Shortly after I arrived the room filled up with older couples, lady foursomes, a family trio, and scowling, no nonsense businessmen. I chose a table in the farthest corner by the window and had a wonderful view of the lively April weather rolling in and out over the domes and spires of Prague. I spellchecked my blog entry and ate my gorgeous breakfast, while slugging back a double shot cappuccino.

I scampered down the hill, following Google to the Agnes Monastery and soon discovered that indeed, this city is made for walking. I crossed the Vltava River and saw the Charles Bridge across the way, packed out with a shuffling horde of tourists. I may continue to admire the bridge from afar, or get up very early to walk across it. Dawn, perhaps.

The convent art was mainly variations on the Madonna, with a few saints and disciples thrown in. Interesting for the individual artist’s interpretation of the maternal virgin:

I bought a six-palace pass. I forgot to ask for my senior discount. Dang.

By now my daughter Robin had landed and we were Whatsapp-ing. We decided to meet for lunch at Lokal. I wandered towards it, stopping in an optical shop – more tempting frames from Barcelona and Paris.

I took a card – I’ll be back. For a while I sat on a bench and sketched a statue of a winsome woman in a swirling gown holding a cornucopia on the street corner. I arrived at Lokal and sat across from this imposing fellow.

I wolfed down my sausage appetizers; three large hotdogs with mustard, rye bread and whipped cream and horseradish sauce in a gravy boat. A gracious plenty for lunch, along with a tart lemon and sparkling water drink. Robin arrived and told me the saga of her journey ( her plane was delayed, two hours sitting on the runway in Paris. Ma pauvre petite). She tucked into her own order of sausages and chicken.

Afterwards she went exploring, and I limped back to the hotel, happy as two clams. After a bit of a rest, I rallied for the 6pm oboe concert at the St Nicholas church. As urged by the fine print on the ticket we were early to claim our seats, but the church was nearly empty. The interior of the church was a visual feast.

Robin spotted a woman with a chicken by her side above the altar. The presence of a hen was puzzling, but it made a change from the plethora of putti fluttering around. The sacred decor more than enough to hold my interest, and the oboe solo was spectacular with phenomenal acoustics. Alas, more than half of the program was lugubrious and morose organ music. I was disappointed in the amount of oboe, plus the church was freezing – we could see our breaths. The evening’s concert was titled Oboe Encounters, Robin pointed out, not Basking in Oboes. I wrapped my scarf around my shoulders, pulled on my mittens and shivered. By the time the organeer played the opening notes of the closing piece, Handel’s Alleluia chorus, we were praising God we could leave and warm our numbed extremities.

More gorgeous doors on the way back, a photo op we could not resist.

Up to the room, did a bit of downloading iPhone photos via cable since the way the iCloud is doing it is slow, spotty and baffling. Robin conked out at 9 and I listened to Ludovico and wrote up today’s adventure. Tomorrow, my tour with Nina in the morning.

Prague, Day 1, Arrival

March 31, 2016 by Virginia Parker 1 Comment

My trip to the airport included an impromptu tour of Atlanta, initiated by a combination of rush hour 5pm traffic and President Obama being in town. In a quest for short cuts, Robert drove us down side streets from Buckhead to the Bluff.

Air France was fab with their usual chic, efficient, ironic service. The NOLA socialite next to me moved to join her husband and Papillion dog, Mignon, and I had the row to myself. The seat flattened out. I lay my head down, hoping to rest my eyes, and didn’t wake up until they turned up the lights and were wheeling breakfast down the aisle. Merci!

Landed in Paris and in less than two hours boarded the plane to Prague. I snorted when I saw the only difference between business class and coach on that flight was three rows and a curtain, but then the plane prepared to take off and only four people were in that section. I had my three seats across row to myself. They served chilled shrimp and hot olive bread. The thing I thought was an odd turnip turned out to have wee tentacles, so I guess it was a squid of some kind. Gack. The tiny pastries made up for it.Landed in Prague much more alert and comfortable than I’d had any expectation to be. My driver was waiting with my name on a card. We walked to where was parked outside and across the street from the airport, but conveniently in front of bank with an ATM, so I grabbed the opportunity to withdraw some Czech cash.

Traffic was heavy and the cordial driver explained the president of China was in town, much to the citizenry’s dismay. Havel was pro-Tibet; their new Prez is sucking up to the Chinese. People are wrapping themselves in Tibetan flags in protest. Don;t get me started on politics, I begged the driver, I’ve had more than enough of that at home. Obligingly, the talk turned to architecture.

The hotel staff were waiting for me with an umbrella though it was barely misting. My luggage was taken to my room while I was warmly welcomed. They were more than pleasant. They acted like I was an elderly relative who might include them in my will. They had art recommendations and offered me some exquisite praline truffles that were bliss on the tongue.

There are only 19 rooms. It’s reminiscent of the Orfila in Madrid, only even more lush. The walls feature art by a local painter of city scenes, which here means medieval, renaissance, and 18 c architecture.

I bounded out to find milk and another ATM – successful, though it took a few minutes of coaxing to get my phone to behave. And I saw this little bridge between two houses, my first taste of Praha charm.

My room is a velvet and gilt and Oriental rug jewel box. Glorious views. Absolutely silent.

The bathroom features heated floors and a Japanese toilet that lights up, has a heated seat, and electronic controls to raise and lower the lid, The demo by the staff made me go off into fits of giggles. After a hot bath in a deep tub, I stayed awake until 1:30 am Prague time, then slept with the windows open.

Suit Up & Show Up

March 20, 2016 by Virginia Parker Leave a Comment

Spent time this weekend sorting through my suitcase packing list. Most of it stands from the last three trips – same amount of time on the road, at the same time of year. The main difference is the expected weather conditions for a city located at about the same latitude as Oslo, Stockholm, and Helsinki, and as far north as Alaska. Last year in April it was cold, wet and rainy in Prague, and colder, wetter and rainier in St. Petersburg. This requires clothes that will withstand the elements; a hoodie and a scarf won’t do. My system is always layer up, so I’ve added a couple of henley-weight long sleeve shirts, thorlo socks, mittens, my knit viking hat, and a lightweight but toasty Mountain Hardware jacket. A pair of waterproof mid-calf boots, a sleek, warm, rain-proof coat, and a serious umbrella will keep me dry. When you pack as light and tight as I do, I’m hard-pressed to fit it all into my main carry-on size case and my compact fit-under-the-seat sized carry-on. I’m hoping to spread it around the two cases, stuff socks and knickers in the boots, use space bags to squeeze down the rest.

I gained a little room because my iPhone doubles as my map, camera, alarm, translator, guides, and flashlight. My iPad is my library, thanks to my Kindle and Nook apps, as well as in-depth museum guide apps. It can do most of the same tricks my iPhone can do. There are no Apple stores, but there are Apple products for sale, so if bad fortune befalls me (like push comes to shove on the metro and thieves make off with my auxiliary brains) I can hope to replace them.

I’ve been setting clothes and shoes aside, ready to pack when the day came. I choose dark colors to get the maximum wear out of least number of items. Bonus: it all but eliminates time spent dithering over what to wear, because it doesn’t matter. The answer is always what’s clean (or clean enough). Last year raspberry was my accent color. This trip I’m adding a couple of blue shirts and socks to my perennial black and gray. The new coat is a soft gray-blue, and my very nice umbrella is sky blue with puffy white clouds.

Packing is pretty Zen. Everything I think might work is heaped on chairs and dresser tops in the guest room, then it’s process by elimination. If I need four long-sleeved shirts and have ten that might work, I pick the four that compliment each other best. I set each item on the guest room bed, marking it off the list as I go. I try on things that look fine, but might not fit or feel right, to be sure. When I’d gone through it all, I launder everything, with a second rinse cycle. I’ve discovered the hard way that walking eight hours a day chafes my tender skin if there’s any trace of laundry detergent left in the denim. And yes, my pants – all three of them – are black or dark gray denim. I am visiting cultural capitals, not the country side, not the coast, not resorts. Blue jeans feel too casual, black jeans seem just that bit more formal and appropriate.

Of course, everything looks better with a cavalier.

Prague: the good, better, delightful, and bad news.

March 14, 2016 by Virginia Parker Leave a Comment

Put together an itinerary, beginning with Prague; cross-referencing museums and boiling down it into searchable cliff notes – addresses, hours and days, permanent collections and temporary exhibitions. I do preliminary mapping of the city so I have a clue (My Maps in Google Maps is a God-send) of what’s near where. For a place that started out as a prolonged stopover en route to Russia, it’s turned into something far more interesting.

One of the handiest things I did on my last trip was to put the addresses of every venue (museums, churches, restaurants, ATMs, shopping) in an email to myself. When I needed to find a place, or show a taxi driver where to go, it was all right there on my iPhone – ready for a quick click and paste into on Google Maps. I’ve graduated into making my own Google Maps with this information preloaded and then downloaded, so I won’t waste all too valuable internet data whenever I am following the map on foot. So that’s done.

I made a preliminary day by day calendar, noting all state owned venues are closed Mondays; and grouping places by proximity.

The good news – I forgot how much I’d covered back in July – my hotel is paid, including breakfast all at a substantial discount. Tea kettle for my room is arranged, pick up and drop off at the airport set, half-day guide booked.

More good news – senior discounts are substantial, usually half price. And I qualify. W00T!

Better news – the main points of interest for me are all nearby; a 5-15 minute walk or same time via bus/tram from the hotel.

Delightful news – St Nicholas Church*, a lovely venue five minutes walk from my hotel, hosts frequent concerts. The majority of them showcase the organ, played by Herr Mozart himself back in the day,

and liturgical music., but on Thursdays they change it up. This a prime example of why I bother with all the research. My first week in Prague their program features the oboe, an instrument I’ve adored since the duck entered the musical story of Peter and Wolf. The second Thursday spotlights the trumpet. I can’t imagine a more soul stirring sound and a better location. The concerts start at 6pm, and even I can stay up that late. I bought my half price senior discount tickets on line, and printed them out. Boo yah.

The bad news – I compiled the last three years of weather from March 29-April 10 and it’s not pretty. Read it and weep.

2013 rain 3 days, snow 4 days, partly sunny 4 days. Temps 24-41

2014 rain 5 days, partly sunny 7 days. Temps 31-63

2015 rain 5 days, snow 3 days, partly sunny 3days. Temps 32-54

The odds favor fairly miserable, soggy, arctic conditions for this southern woman. There will be no strolling around the center of the old town, gazing at the centuries old architecture while demolishing a double scoop of gelato. Any amount of rain – and mostly it was marked as thunderstorms, not playful spring showers – and I’ll be tapping my iPhone for UBER. Local taxi are notoriously shady. Again, TGIU.

But to end on an upbeat note, I am disregarding the advice of Thoreau to “beware of all enterprises that require new clothes.” I found the perfect coat online. Waterproof, warm, lightweight, and sleek. Take that, sleet and snowflakes!

*Named for that jolly old soul who symbolizes the corruption of Christmas from a holy occasion to gloves off, all out orgy of greed, but hey – it wasn’t his idea.

Boris & Natasha & Peter & Catherine

March 8, 2016 by Virginia Parker Leave a Comment

Here’s a short list of what formed my impressions of Russia. My earliest images would be Boris Badenov and Natasha Nogoodnik on the Rocky and Bullwinkle show.

The Cuban missile crisis and Nikita Khrushchev’s banging his shoe when I was 10. My dad taking me out in the backyard at night to see Sputnik crossing the sky. There was always the background cultural noise of Cold War saber rattling.

When I traveled and lived in Europe in my twenties, I read the biographies and autobiographies of writers. The diaries of Sophia, Tolstoy’s wife, left a strong impression on me, as did Nabokov’s memoir, Speak Memory. I didn’t get around to reading Russian novels until I fell in love with Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, and Chekhov in college, around age 28. Around the same time I read about the Greats, Catherine and Peter, the doomed Romanovs, and lusty Rasputin.

There were the Bond movie super villains, including the reptilian Rosa Krebs. Oh, and of course Dr Zhivago, of which I only dimly recall troikas in the snow and throbbing balalaika music.

I watched the movie REDS more than once, mostly for the writer-on-writer love. Skip ahead to Mugatu’s Russian henchwoman, Katinka, in Zoolander, and back to this little gem from the 1980s ‪https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5CaMUfxVJVQ and that’s about it for me.

I’ve got a stack of TBR history, biography and literature that’s Russian-centric, plus some audio lectures on literature that I’m loving. I gave Gogol’s Dead Souls (as interpreted by Monty Python alumni) a listen. I’m currently switching back and forth between biographies of Peter the Great and Great Catherine, by Carolly Erickson.

Looking forward to having my childhood notions and literary preconceptions replaced with actual experience.

Why St. Petersburg?

March 6, 2016 by Virginia Parker Leave a Comment

It’s all about the holy grail of the Hermitage.

The Hermitage has always been on my top five list (along with Louvre, Metropolitan, National, Prado) but seemed daunting and out of reach because of the politics, the rigors of the journey to get there, and the climate.

I’d looked at it and backed away more than once in the last ten years. I’d peek at the visa requirements, or signs in Cyrillic, and shake my head. The fact I was raised in the cold war days when the USSR was the definition of the enemy played into it too. I had about decided to let it drop off my list, the way I’ve dropped Asia and Australia. Too much for me to handle. Then a couple of things happened.

I visited a dear friend, my auxiliary mother, on Mother’s Day at her assisted living facility. Brought her a picnic. We talked a little about Madrid, and she said, ‘I hope you are planning to visit the Hermitage, dear.’ That’s all she said, but it was enough.

.I followed up by looking to see what Rick Steves had to say. He’s a pretty straight shooter. Here’s a quote – “St. Petersburg is Russia’s most accessible and most tourist-worthy city…. Two of the world’s greatest art museums and some sumptuous Orthodox churches top it off. While this place can be exasperating, it is worth grappling with. Beyond its brick-and-mortar sights, St. Petersburg gives first-timers a perfect peek into the enigmatic Russian culture.” Steves does regular guided tours there. And all those cruise ships. Even my Great Aunt Bunny has been to the Hermitage on a cruise ship.

They have UBER. I kid you not. I feel like I can tackle anyplace armed with my trusty UBER app.

I have Google Maps and Google Translate. I can hold up my phone over a Cyrillic sign or menu and bam! read it. It couldn’t be worse than my non-existent Spanish.

Yea, the visa thing is crazy, but there are hundreds of companies that will do it for you. The hard part was narrowing it down to a trustworthy, fairly priced one. By asking around on FB, I got three seasoned traveler’s recs, one of them close by.

My nephew who lives in Florence (introducing American brands, specifically Frye Boots, to Europe) is very enthusiastic. He’s been many times. He says the Hermitage was made for me, it’s an experience I must not miss. His emails of encouragement, and tips on where to stay, etc, have gone a long way to getting my spouse on board.

The Hermitage has a Friends of the Hermitage deal that is almost exactly like the one at the Louvre. That’s right, for a paltry fee I can join and then visit as often as I like, waltzing to the head of all the lines.

The dollar is very strong compared to the ruble.

Until this all started falling into place, Rome was my next destination, but my heart just wasn’t in it. I truly yearned to go to the Hermitage. When I decided to give it one last push, one door after another opened. Looking at this list, I realize the development of the iphone as a major traveling tool, plus my success figuring out the Paris and Madrid trips were game changers for me.

When to Go – Apparently St Petersburg is either freezing or sweltering. II wanted to dodge the season when cruise ships disgorge 40,000 people a day and it tops 80 degrees. That would be June, July, August.

March is unremitting ice and snow. April is still cold as a welldigger’s shoes, but toward the second half of the month is more slush than ice. May is nippy and rains. After some hesitation, I picked late April. I may still need long johns, though I hear the museums are toasty, but I prefer warm clothes to mosquito repellent. Seriously, better nippy than sweaty.

Where to stay – My nephew wants me to stay at the Astoria. After a week comparing hotel websites, I decided not to stay in the center of town (um, remember Madrid?) and to go for the #1 TA pick for guesthouse, Alexander House. I love how rooms have themes but are not fussy, the space and light. It’s an amazing world when you can send an inquiry via email, get a response in minutes and, after a few more emails to firm up cost and perks, have your new Russian bestie Ekaterina confirm your reservation. Using Siri to respond while you drive to the gym. Just sayin’.

I was on the fence about staying at the .Astoria. Honestly, any place that assures me that they will unpack my luggage and press my evening wear the day I arrive really isn’t the place for me. But I also think I ought to split where I stay in case there is a problem – like heinous noise at night. And by staying in different areas of the city, you get a different experience of the city. So I booked the last six days of my trip at the Astoria.

What to do – The Hermitage. It’s huge. I won’t wear it out.

Next post – Why Prague? Plus nabbing a great plane ticket, hotel reservations, and research research research.