In this time of the "Real Housewives" craze, I think it's only fitting that we recognize Catherine the Great as the first Real Housewife of the World. This lady lived larger than large at the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, and today I saw just a little bit of that largeness.
Today there's about 3 million pieces of art in the collection, and I didn't even attempt to see it all. But if you're into goldleaf, paintings of chubby ladies and fat babies, this is the place for you. An hour was enough for me. (With respect, it's an amazing collection and I'm very happy to have seen it.)
St. Petersburg is a much prettier city than Moscow. Canals gently twist and turn through the city. The avenues are wide, and the apartment buildings are more beautiful than the Soviet-era construction I saw earlier in the week. It's an industrial city. It's gritty, hazy, and polluted.
As I rode in from the airport last night, I thought it must get awfully cold here, and it seems they are preparing for winter already. The hotel's heat is on full force, and that has all of us gasping for air. It's stifling, and 4 a.m. this morning, I couldn't stand it anymore. I went down to the desk and they gave me another room - one that has a window that opens. Life is better now.
I had hoped for more photos of St. Petersburg, but the cab ride from the Winter Palace to the hotel included a stop by the police. I have no idea what happened - there was an exchange of words, then money, a couple glances at me, the money was returned, and off we went. I didn't push the idea of "Stop, I wanna take a picture."