We left Russia today. I can't help but reflect on the fact that for people my age, we learned growing up that Russia was the enemy. I still remember practicing in school for a nuclear attack from Russia by hiding under our desks. Now, of course, we don't feel that way (except for Mitt Romney..), and as an adult I understand much more about what was going on in Russia at the time. I find it very moving to see the city of St. Petersburg as a prosperous European city, emerging from the dark years of the 20th century and all the trauma from Stalin to WW2. While certainly all is not perfect under Putin's thumb, it is certainly a thriving city; everywhere you see restoration and construction, and new things emerging. It is also curious that the magnificence of the city emerged from the policies of two totalitarian regimes, the tsars and the communists. The broad, open public spaces and civic buildings of all kinds in St. Petersburg contrasts with the feeble uninspired urban fabric of a place like Vancouver, planned by a railroad company with real estate speculation in mind. What is also interesting is that one still senses the "otherness" of Russia; it is different, and not wholly European. I got a feeling that people have a great deal of pride in their Russianness.
Today I went to Vladimir Nabokov's house, which was down the street from our hotel. A few of the rooms in the house have been turned into a museum. The rest are offices, etc. It is quite a house!
A very cool typewriter:
Some Nabakovian notes:
I also went to the apartment building where Stravinsky grew up; unfortunately, there is no plaque on the building, and his family's apartment is still a Soviet-style communal apartment.
A last picture, taken about 11:30 PM, of the wires which seem to cross randomly from one building to another in St. Petersburg.
