First, a few days ago, some of the students and I were going to take a water taxi out to the city of Kronshtadt. It's a former military base that has been key in the history of the city.
I should have known something was up when I found two different schedules online for the water taxi. They differed by about 2 hours in the departure time. But we went to the pier anyway and found that the conflicting schedules were posted there as well . . . with no explanation. But there was a boat docked, so that gave us hope.
There was a small group gathered and once the first scheduled time was well past with no evidence of movement on the boat, people gave up and wandered away. We did too; we grabbed some lunch and looked into stores until the second time came around.
Now there was a sizable crowd pressed up against the railing. The boat was still moored there, but there were no signs of life.
Before long another boat pulled up to the first and let a few passengers off (they walked from their boat, onto the first one, and then onto the dock). A few minutes later, the crew started letting people on, ushering them across the deck of the first boat and onto the one that had just arrived.
After about 70 people got on, the crew drew up the gangway and the boat just took off. "Next boat in 2 hours" was the only explanation we got.
The Russians grumbled and milled around for a few minutes before dissipating.
Here is a picture of me with one of the students, Kal, and the boats we didn't ride on.
Instead we went to the museum boat, the "Avrora" which is permanently moored about 30 minutes from where we tried to get the water taxi. I had been on the Avrora before. It's a must-do for tourists. It's the boat that fired the shot at the Winter Palace/Hermitage which is considered by many to be the start of the Russian Revolution.
There was an awesome tour down in the bowels of the ship. And here is me up on the deck. I'm rockin' the sweater vest:
My other disappointment happened today when I tried to go to the Metro Museum. I'm totally fascinated by the super-efficient system here and was excited to find they have a museum. Here's how things went down.
I walked in to find that the museum shares a vestibule with the employees getting off work. One woman in a lot of polyester was leaning on a railing watching her comrades stream past on their way home.
Me: I'd like to visit the museum
Natasha (I don't know if that's really her name, but there's a one in eleven chance it is, so let's go with that): [Doesn't say anything, just looks at me with raw hatred in her eyes]
Me: Is the museum open?
Natasha: [Grunts] You have to call.
Me: Uh, where do I call?
Natasha: 53-54
Me: [increasingly confused, with a few bits of frustration tossed in]: How do I call?
Natasha: [Gestures across the room to where there is an ancient phone -- the kind that Soviet Generals had all over their desks when we lampooned them in movies]
So, I went over to the phone and sure enough there was a sign saying you need to get a pass and you have to call 53-54. I called the number and it rang and rang. Meanwhile I saw that they were on lunch break, with only about 5 minutes left. Then I walked over to the window that actually said "passes" on it, but they had a sign in the window saying that they were at lunch for the next 45 minutes.
I've been through this deal often enough that I know it's a soft 45 minutes depending on who's pouring the vodka. So I logged this experience under "What a country" (said in my best Yakoff Smirnoff voice) and went on with my day.
