*
Waking up bright and early on the pulsating train. We’ve
arrived in Saint Petersburg. The glorious morning sun greets us and keeps the
cold temperature more bearable as we walk around the city. It’s just me,
Aysena, Aina, and Tristan. We’re a team.
†
The whole day is a blurry adventure walk to places like The
Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, Winter Palace (State Hermitage Museum),
and the frozen Neva River. The collection of antique furniture and rooms is
entirely awesome. I get the pleasure of hearing a five-man acapella ensemble
sing ancient Russian chants in front of an ominous religious sculpture. As well
I can’t even keep track of all the places we eat and more importantly the
amount of food I’m consuming on this tour. It’s discouraging in regards to my
health but what can you do when you’re in a strange city like this but walk,
eat, walk, eat, walk, eat.
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[The sight of a black person causes quite a humorous stir
amongst a group of Russian teens. Tristan is a celebrity for this moment in his
life.]
After a charge-up break at the hostel we check out this
D.I.Y. free space downtown called Ziferblat. Apparently they have a lot of
these sorts of anti-cafés where an inventive space is open to the public and you
pay a fairly cheap price by the hour. In this space in particular they’ve
created somewhat of a mock city with loft-like lighting. As soon as we walk in
there’s a boy trotting on these mechanical legs as a sport. Mingling with a few
patrons. There’s a piano that gets played periodically and it seems that
practically everyone here is musically inclined. We resign to a wooden table
with Tea and Cookies. Playing a few card games like Podkidnoy and Bullshit that
get some of us riled up.
*
*
After that we sit down at a decently priced restaurant.
Sharing Garlic Toast sticks stacked like Jenga blocks because the waiter
noticed we were playing Jenga. I sip on Cognac for that smooth stingy sensation
down my throat.
†
Back at the hostel Aysena and I get comfortable in our cozy
private room. I notice the room number is 111. Things heat up pretty quick. She
gets a real kick out of taping a little video recording on her iPhone of our
sexual moments. This sexual resolve was much needed.
...
While she snoozes off to sleep I reflect in the commons area
of the hostel. Thinking about how young her perspective is on life and how that
contrasts from mine. Not that she’s naïve or anything because she’s not. We’re
both aware at the differences in how we see certain things pertaining to
romance. I’ve got a couple more years of life on her. And sometimes that can
have a big effect. But she makes me feel younger than I really am and that’s
important.
Sleep at some point after 4 a.m.
* Images by
me.
† Images by Aysena.
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