Confused in St. Petersburg

     St. Petersburg is the most confusing city I have ever encountered. So much so, that I can’t even decide where to begin. With the strange architecture that looks half French, half Italian, and happens to be placed on a canal that would not be out of place in Amsterdam? Or with the language, which was more foreign to me than any I have ever encountered? What about navigating a city that makes use of two alphabets, with maps in one, but directions in another? Maybe the Russian people themselves, who refused to smile at you in passing, but were so friendly after a moments conversation?

     By the end of my time in St. Petersburg, I would understand this architecture and these people. I would also find my way around this seemingly impossible language barrier, not without struggle.
     The architecture, it turns out, can be explained with relative ease, though it fascinated me from day one. It is simply a result of Tsar Nicholas’ attempts to make Russia more European.

     The rest would come to me more slowly.

The language barrier in Russia was more challenging than any I have experienced. I have a miniscule knowledge of French and, thanks to my Spanish classes, no Romance language is completely foreign to me. None of this would be of any use to me in my attempts to communicate with Russian speakers.

In the end, I would learn a few key phrases and words. I would also learn that a smile and a faltering attempt at Russian would get me a long way. I would become comfortable with a map and both of their alphabets. It just took practice.

     What was truly interesting about Russia was the people. I only came to understand them through a series of conversations and questions.

     On the surface, the people I encountered on the streets of St. Petersburg seemed cold. Like many Americans, I tend to smile at the people I pass on the street. If we make eye contact, I’m likely to give you a small smile. That’s just how I am, how most Americans are. Naturally, I’m used to people smiling back most of the time.

When all else fails, ask a police officer.

 I never realized that this is not typical of most countries, and it’s certainly not typical of Russia. It’s not that these people were cold or unhappy, they just didn’t understand why some weirdo on the street was smiling at them. The people that I talked to in shops, restaurants, and on the streets were very friendly and helpful, even when we could barely communicate. They almost never seemed frustrated and were more than happy to help. They just don’t smile at strangers in passing. In fact, I learned from a Russian student named Dasha that Russians tend to see Americans as superficial and fake. She told me that they aren’t sure if our smiles are genuine because we smile so often, and for no apparent reason.

     My conversation with Dasha and other Russian students was unique because we all knew that we were there to learn from one another, so no question was really off limits and the subjects could change abruptly. We were bombarded with information and questions for most of the day. It was an amazing way to learn about St. Petersburg and its residents.

     Later, I had some very unlikely conversations, seemingly out of the blue. My favorite was a conversation that I had with a forty-something year old man who was selling souvenirs. My interest in his Soviet era pins earned me a half-hour of conversation about Communism, Captialism, Obama, and Putin.  

     It’s all of these strange little things that I had to overcome and conversations like these that made me love St. Petersburg.

Here are my favorite St. Petersburg pictures: