Aha.
A week in the northern city of Sankt Petersburg brought me intense rest, peppered with a dash of culture and a ladelful of expense. Seriously, the main cities in Russia are fucking expensive-if you ever decide to go there yourself, make sure that you've taken out a second mortgage. That, or, you know, sell your children or something.
Before I left, I promised a series of photographs documenting my journey, none of which actually detail my adventure to the architecturally stunning metropolis, but feature more prominently the random bullshit we all tend to glaze over when recounting the trips that change our lives.
I should preface this with a rather blunt confession, however. Sadly, despite a feverish search for the remains of Grigori Rasputin's legendary appendage (reputedly on display in an Erotic museum/VD clinic-I shit you not), I was unable to locate the street and instead wandered for endless hours, robbed of the opportunity to mark the trip with a sight of (literally) epic proportions.
Anyway, without further ado:
"The Galeria?"
Okay, okay, okay. You've seen nothing that really shows that I was in Saint Petersburg. I will cave in just this once:
Anyway. Reflecting on this post, I should totally do a blog about the mundanity of travel. And food. Mainly just food.
_________________________________________________________________
"I'm gonna go have a smoke right now. You want a smoke? You don't smoke, do ya, right? What are ya, one of those fitness freaks, huh? Go fuck yourself."
-D.
A week in the northern city of Sankt Petersburg brought me intense rest, peppered with a dash of culture and a ladelful of expense. Seriously, the main cities in Russia are fucking expensive-if you ever decide to go there yourself, make sure that you've taken out a second mortgage. That, or, you know, sell your children or something.
Before I left, I promised a series of photographs documenting my journey, none of which actually detail my adventure to the architecturally stunning metropolis, but feature more prominently the random bullshit we all tend to glaze over when recounting the trips that change our lives.
I should preface this with a rather blunt confession, however. Sadly, despite a feverish search for the remains of Grigori Rasputin's legendary appendage (reputedly on display in an Erotic museum/VD clinic-I shit you not), I was unable to locate the street and instead wandered for endless hours, robbed of the opportunity to mark the trip with a sight of (literally) epic proportions.
Anyway, without further ado:
Before I took the overnight sleeper train from Moscow, I decided to start the holidays on a high: a fucking good steak, a pitcher of Hoegaarden and an Oreo Ice Cream Cookie. Munching on the steak made me realise something-the Big Texan Steak Challenge that Adam Richman demolished was a mere 7 times the size of the steak I consumed. I could totally fucking compete. Any doubts to my eating prowess, direct your queries to Sir Bitchalot.
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Better get used to the pictures of food and drinks...My daily breakfast on the trip. Equivalent to £4 sterling. Yup. That's two pancakes and a small (A SMALL) coffee. Cause I'm trying to watch my figure.
The story: walking along the street on my oddy knocky, ahead of me I caught sight of an army officer completely decked out and I resolved to take a picture that reflected how goddamned Russian he looked. I couldn't very well just whip my camera out, as I'd be locked up for spying on State secrets, or something, so I surreptitiously slipped my phone out of my pocket and this was the result. The most disappointing part-a mere three seconds after I took this, he very nearly landed on his arse. Nothing more amusing than seeing a stern Russian army officer made a cunt of.
Imagine: I have to come to St. Petersburg to try Carls Jr. Oh, and while I'm at it, both Chilli Cheese Fries and Double Western Bacon Cheeseburgers have seen fit to supplant any previous affection I had for other major Fast Food produce.
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Ignoring the small detail that the river is completely frozen over, that's actually a rabbit on the middle of the ice. |
"Are you sure it's Deit?"
There's a big fella who I've not spoken to in quite a while back in the old country, but I sincerely hope he's reading this as I still fondly remember our drinking sessions together and wish he could have joined me in this one.
White Russian? I've had a few in my time, but this was the first to smell like petrol and burn on the way down (and that was even after about 4 pints of German beer) . Aside from the alarmingly brown nature of the drink, I think they just mixed equal parts Vodka, Kahlua and pure ethanol. Cheap, too.
I think she was awarded the prestigious 'Employee of the Month' plaque for her hard-work ethic, her customer-winning smile and her "can-do" attitude.
Okay, okay, okay. You've seen nothing that really shows that I was in Saint Petersburg. I will cave in just this once:
The Hermitage. Also commonly known as "The Winter Palace", it is a massive and opulent building which has been converted into a State art and culture museum of sorts that could be likened to the Louvre in Paris. Interestingly, for all you nerds out there, the Hermitage is one of the National Wonders in both Civilization IV and V.
Now that's all you're getting.
Anyway. Reflecting on this post, I should totally do a blog about the mundanity of travel. And food. Mainly just food.
_________________________________________________________________
"I'm gonna go have a smoke right now. You want a smoke? You don't smoke, do ya, right? What are ya, one of those fitness freaks, huh? Go fuck yourself."
-D.
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