From Russia with Love - on tour with Rusalki

Impressions

On the road - and a wee bit tired!

21 October 2013

The long night's journey into day, into night. At four o'clock the alarm wakes me from my shallow slumber. In Russian tradition I sit on my suitcase before leaving and kissing my love goodbye for a week. Bags packed and dragged down the stairs, I hop on the bus that weaves its way through the waking city. With each turn, it squeaks and squeals like there is a human hidden in the hinges. Early workers get on, recognizing each other from their daily routine, nodding acknowledgement. I arrive at the airport slightly nauseous, feeling it should be the end of my journey, not the beginning.

Weight restrictions.

We have to lose weight. Literally. Tanja's suitcase is too heavy. A 2.5 kilo surplus that could cost no less than €70. So, we have to redistribute, open cases, shift things, pushing lids down, groaning and sighing. Finally, we get the green light ... To stand in an even longer queue. Security. More unpacking: liquids, Ipad, camera, take off watch and hat. No visitation this time, surprisingly. Maybe that new haircut is giving me some conformist credibility.

Early morning take-off

Finally, the first plane. Everything goes according to plan. In the first light of day we see the neat flat Dutch acres surrounded by waterways recede. We land at Charles de Gaulle airport, where we transfer. We rush to border control only to collide with a non-moving mass of passengers. Apparently all the guards are on coffee break, or strike, or are simply suffering from general ennui. 'Doucement', one of the ushers says. 'C'est un affront! ' C'est un affront!' Frouke repeats, while we stumble over, giggling. But best not to laugh, or even smile, when facing the officer. We make it through eventually.

How boring, Charles de Gaulle airport, only a few shops with €400 face cream and a smattering of alcoholic drinks, large bottles only. We smear our faces and hands with the creams on offer, spray some expensive perfume and leave the shop. I think to myself that I should go into a perfumery every day and 'test' the merchandise, never buying anything and always using the best products. I suppose one could. Perfect skin for free. If only they had something that would instantly cure the hideous spot under my nose... 

Why did we take this roundabout tour? It was cheaper, I guess, but the price to pay! For two hours we sit on the tarmac because the passenger chute can't be detached and special equipment and personnel is required. After an hour they offer us a glass of water. And to add insult to injury, we fly over Amsterdam, 7 hours after I woke up in that same city. The throbbing in my forehead makes me feel like Meursault.

The food is good, but the rose is finished by the time the purser reaches our seats, so we settle for an acidic red that leaves the teeth rough; anything to pass the time. We fly towards the night, the day unfolding behind us. In the receding daylight, we see the neat flat Russian acres appear below us. The plane lands ever so softly, the way only Russian pilots can.

What awaits us is a repetition of the French border check: hugely long queues and very little movement. But we have arrived! And our dear friend Malik is there to greet us!

But our ordeal is far from over. Because of the two-hour delay (I noted that no form of recompense was offered), we land smack in the middle of evening rush hour. We squeeze ourselves onto a small bus, squashed like sardines. At snail's pace we creep towards the stop where we have to change over to another, smaller bus. We're really no more than anchovies by now. After two hours in traffic - queues seem to be the theme of the day - we make it to Mama Tanja's house, where there is borstj and gworstj and a lot of warmth. Exhausted we go to bed, untypically early, where I write these notes before snuggling under the duvet in my mercifully cool room.

Tomorrow we sing at the Summer Palace in Pavlovsk.

Friends

At Pavlovsk Palace

22 October 2013

Transport is not a problem today, as Lisa, a conductor working for one of the music schools in the district is giving us a lift to Pavlovsk. After a nice slowly morning, and not much of a headache on my part, we jumble into her car and drive off through the sleazy suburbs of St Petersburg, all dust and grit and large grey buildings, soaked in a brown smog. But slowly signs of the old Russia resurface. Soviet architecture makes way for birches and pine trees and soon we pass through lovely Pushkin and then our destination Pavlovsk (which makes me feel like having Pavlova). The most noticeable thing about these towns is a sense of space and peace. You can breathe here. It it not hard to imagine what life would have been like here, say 100 or 150 years ago. We fantasize about gentlemen in carriages and ladies with umbrellas.

We can't enter the Palace without the obligatory plastic shoe covers (mini bin bags, really) and are given a 'private tour' of this magnificent building. We could wander here for hours were it not for our imminent concert. We are shown into a hall with beautiful chandeliers and freezes along the ceiling. The acoustics are good too. We are determined to be at our best tonight, as the audience will consist mostly of music students and teachers: they will know if we mess up! 

Lots of flowers and presents!

Singing autographs

                                           We came, we sang, we conquered.Throughout the concert people come up to us to give us flowers and presents and afterwards the steady stream of gifts continues. We are quite overwhelmed, while we sign CDs and cards. For a short moment in time, we are stars. This is more than we could have hoped for. 

Food, always much food. The ladies who organised our tour take us to their music school in Pushkin and stuff us with meat pies, fruits and cakes. They themselves are all remarkably thin. We talk and toast and sing. This is what we do best: to meet the world through music. Content and quite full, we return home. Tomorrow will be a long and busy day.

23 October

Rise and shine, it's time to be stars again. After beautiful picturesque Pavlovsk, the grim suburb where we perform today is quite a contrast. We need roadies! But, no, now these elderly ladies (I mean us) have to carry all their costumes, hairpieces and instruments themselves. The bus driver says he will tell us where to get off, but doesn't, so we end up marching a bit longer along rows of bleak apartment blocks. The cultural centre also looks rather dilapidated, but inside we are met by Alla and other friendly faces.

Suburbs

We performed here for the survivors of the Siege of Leningrad a couple of years ago and are happy to see many of the survivors still surviving. They, in turn, are happy we have 'new costumes' and remember everything about our last performance. We sing many old memories back to life. An old man comes up to us after the show to thank us for giving them back their music, which few people sing these days. People tell us long stories in Russian and we nod and smile and hug. A 90-year-old lady shows off her dancing skills while some of the others sing with abandon. A special moment, fleeting but unforgettable. And just as quickly as the hall came alive, it turns quiet again and we are on our way to the next gig, across town.

The survivors of the siege of Leningrad

It is harder, much harder to perform when you're tired, so our performance at the Music School is not without flaws. We are preceded by the group of one of the ladies who organised our tour. They're very good, technically, though perhaps a little too sweet and neat. They tell us we were the inspiration that got them started in the first place. How amazing! I tell them, the apprentice has become the master and it is now our turn to learn from them. To be the inspiration of anything artistic and beautiful feels like a great compliment. Perhaps our presence on this earth was not completely in vain, after all.

......

26 October

Some tourist attraction ... (not)

Time appears to be the theme of the day. First we thought we'd have to get up at 6 to get to Atomic City by 11, but thankfully we learn that we in fact have to catch the train at 11. We get to the station with plenty of time to spare. Tanja orders the tickets and I can tell from her face that 'our' train won't be running today. In fact we have to wait three hours, because the winter schedule came into effect three days early. We pay through the nose to lock up our bags for a few hours and simply step outside, not knowing whether the environs have anything to offer at all. In the distance we spot a big church, a landmark possibly worth exploring. Tar vapours and piles of bricks greet us on our way. 

s Novim Godam!

The church is being renovated but we're glad to find the door open. The decorations are relatively sparse and signs of Soviet time still prevail, such as the tile floor, which would look more in place at a butcher's shop. I secretly take a couple of pictures - every detail of our lives needs to be recorded, after all. An old lady is talking to the priest, seemingly confessing her sins. Sas and I decide to also clear our conscience by naming some of our worst deeds and come to the conclusion that sinning is relative, depending on perspective.

On our way back we pass through a horridly clinical shopping mall, adjacent to a large ruin of a building, which once upon a time must have been quite grand. It's beautiful in its dilapidation. Graffiti on one of the stairs says 's Novim Godam' - happy new year. A marker in time, intermittently valid.

Choo choo to Sosnovy Bor

Finally we get on the train and our long journey to Atomic City (Sosnovy Bor) begins. The beginning of the end of our tour. Tomorrow we're flying home, with a suitcase full of memories.

…

 Back home, I realise that I didn’t manage to chronicle all of our adventures in and around Saint Petersburg. I was simply too busy having them! And, as my late friend Andrew used to say: ‘Life isn’t worth living if you can’t have any adventures!’