I finally made it to Tsarskoye Selo on Sunday, and although I’ve been fending for myself and have had to figure things out on the fly (for the most part) over these past two and a half months, I’m pretty proud that I managed to get all the way to Tsarskoye Selo in one piece, by myself, without having gotten miserably lost. You see, Tsarskoye Selo (the Tsar’s Village) is located about 20 miles away from the city center in the suburbs of St. Petersburg, and the only real way of getting there is by taking a marshrutka, those mini-buses that have a certain route, but that which only stop if you tell them too. I’ve taken them before, but only with friends. I usually avoid marshrutkas because a) I don’t know where I’m going most of the time, and b) I don’t speak Russian (I’ve been in a pathetic funk since last week; every time I try and speak I get so nervous that I stutter and make more mistakes than my normal amount. I feel utterly shaken, having lost all of the confidence that I’ve gained since arriving here at the end of January, and I desperately need to have a solid interaction in order to get back on track. Bleh). 
But I needed to come to Tsarskoye Selo. We have an excursion planned to this summer residence of the Tsars in May, but I’m not sure that we will definitely tour the Alexander Palace in addition to the Catherine Palace and Catherine park, which attracts the most visitors. The Alexander Palace is where Nicholas and Alexandra lived after they got married, and it is where they raised their children. Sure, they definitely lived in the Winter Palace during the... winters, but they preferred quiet Tsarskoe Selo over bustling Petersburg. And they even chose to live in the Alexander Palace over the Catherine Palace, which is smaller and much cozier in comparison to the latter.
Over the past few days I went back and forth over whether or not I wanted to go before the excursion, and I realized that the only reason why this was even a question in the first place was because I was afraid of the commute there and back alone. When we went to Peterhof, we took a marshrutka, and we passed the palace without even knowing it. We got off past the palace once we realized that that was probably Peterhof and had to walk backwards. Marshrutka drivers don’t announce stops of any sort. They just wait for you to shout “остановите пожалуйста!” and then they’ll pull up to the curb and let you out. While they’re driving, they are constantly receiving money for fare and giving back the exact change, with their eyes hopefully on the road. Sometimes they talk on their cell phones while doing all the above. It’s certainly not comforting, but what can you do. I disliked that fear was the reason I hesitated to go; I knew I would have hated myself if I missed out on an opportunity to see the Alexander Palace because I was afraid of taking a marshrutka by myself. Pssh, DESPICABLE.
So I went. I took my time getting there, and I didn’t actually spend more than an hour and a half there, but it was blissfully worth it. I woke up before 10, had breakfast, went to the gym, came home, showered, packed a little lunch, and was in the metro by 1:15 pm. I took the blue line all the way down to MOSKOVSKAYA, and from there hopped on what I hoped was the correct marshrutka. I tuned out on my iPod for the next hour, as the marshutka stopped and started, picking up people along the way. Before long, the marshrutka was packed with Russians (how do you say deodorant по-русски?), and eventually we started driving around a neighborhood that I thought might be close to Tsarskoye Selo. I saw signs for the Catherine Palace, but judging from the neighborhood we were driving through, I was skeptical. I was expecting Tsarskoye Selo to be out in the open, with a giant welcoming sign... in English. While looking frantically through the windows on both sides to decipher if I was actually where I was supposed to be, I spotted a golden church dome. I must be here! I was just getting ready to get off when the marshrutka turned in the opposite direction, away from what I thought was the Catherine Palace. Shit. I need to get off... I think. In my hasty panic, I asked a friendly-looking Russian woman if that was indeed Tsarskoye selo. Did I need to get off now? Is the driver going to stop at the park as the sign explains on the window of the marshrutka bus? After immediately dismissing me, she and a few other travelers around her told me, from what I understood, that I would get off at the very end of the route; that we were going to the other side of the park. Okay, phew. I waited and waited and didn’t get off, until I started to second guess myself. Did I hear that correctly? Considering it looks like we’re going very far away from the palaces, you most certainly didn’t, Liv. Seriously freaking out (why can’t I stay calm in these situations?), I stand up and head towards the door, preparing my weak voice to tell the driver to stop. Thank god some older woman who had heard me ask my questions before told me to sit back down, девушка, my stop has yet to come. She told me that she would tell me where to get off, and I breathed a sign of relief. My deer-in-the-headlights, pitiful disposition has paid off (I am certainly going to go out of my way to be friendly to foreigners when I come home).
So, I got off at the very end of the marshrukta route, in front of a somewhat important-looking gate into Catherine Park. Relieved, I entered the park, took out my camera and sandwich, and munched/took photos as I walked through the winding paths of the park. In short, the park is gorgeous (surprise, surprise). There are canals/rivers and trees and what I would imagine will be luscious green grass. I ended up walking towards a pond in which there was what looked like a rostral column and a building which is called the “Admiralty”. There were a lot of visitors out and about; older couples and young ones with their children racing ahead of them. There was also a newlywed couple posing for pictures in front of the pond (I don’t blame them. It had a great view).
Before long I ended up at the Catherine Palace. The side of the Palace that I found myself on was under construction though, and the entire right side of the palace was covered with a sheet whose pattern matches what the side of the palace actually looks like, so from afar you have no idea it’s actually a giant cloth painted to look like a palace. Tricky, tricky, Russians... I hovered in front of the Catherine Palace entrance for a few seconds before I trekked onwards. I’m pretty sure we’ll go with the group inside the Catherine Palace in May, and because it was already 3:30, I needed to find the Alexander Palace. I went to the back of the palace and followed a diagonal road into what looked like more residential housing. Soon I found a sign pointing in the direction of the Alexander palace, and then more gates leading into what looked like another park. I entered the park, and found myself walking through more woods and small hills. It was more quiet over there, and I remember thinking how awesome of a backyard this would have been to have growing up. It was a nice location to take walks, to ride a bike, or to throw a frisbee. I came up towards the back of a large building, which seemed pretty important, but it wasn’t as extravagant as other palaces, and it looked abandoned from the inside. “Is this the Alexander palace?” I wondered. I walked around in front, and I found a sign to confirm that it was indeed, the Alexander Palace. I moved further in front of the palace and took it all in. The palace is not that tall, but it extends pretty far length wise. It is a pastel yellow, and the main entrance in the center has two statues on either side of the entrance staircase. All the doors were shut, and I didn’t see anyone going into the palace either, however. This started to make me nervous as I second-guessed whether or not I saw something about gaining admission into the palace or not online. I was about to find someone to ask where the main entrance was when I saw a security guard walk through the front doors, which pissed me off, because who knows if it would have even occurred to me to even try to open the front doors if I hadn’t seen someone go through them (the building looks absolutely abandoned, and there were no signs for an entrance anywhere!).
I walked around the front of the palace before I went inside, and I seriously started to get the chills. Like, faster than I ever have in Russia before. So, the Romanovs were really into photography, and almost everyone in the family took photographs and kept extensive family albums. As a result, there are a ton of photos of Nicholas and his family floating around the internet, as well as in countless books and archives. As you can imagine, I have tried to find ALL photos that exists of them (a serious endeavor), and so when I first started walking around the staircases and front columns, I quickly acquired a sense of my surroundings as being oddly familiar... as if I had seen this place before. Obviously I haven’t in person, but because I’ve seen so many black and white photos of even the outside I started to feel an almost deja-vu sense. I took photos and laughed out loud to myself. As much as I love visiting sights with my friends, I am really glad I went there by myself. This was something I needed to enjoy alone, without being rushed or judged. I spent a few minutes longer outside, pressing my palm against the stone walls and the white, thick columns. When I was ready, I concentrated for a second on this eerie feeling that was growing inside me, shuttered with excitement, told myself that THIS WAS IT, and then I went inside.
First I paid 130 rubles ($3.64) with my student card to get in, and then I followed the old women who work there’s (why is it always old women?) signal to pass through the first large doors. When I walked through them, I found myself in a bright hall with geometric floor patterns and paintings on the walls. To my left looked like a little sitting area, but what caught my attention was the huge ass tiger rug, which was complete with a full tiger head gaping wide with it’s crazed eyes staring at me (what’s up Shirkan?). The hall was made up of three such rooms, and I walked through them with only the echo of my squeaky shoes to remind me that I was alone. There were paintings of generals and perhaps Nicholas I (? I forget what he looks like), as well as a large portrait of Catherine the Great. There were some decorative vases, and more chandeliers. In the last large room, there were two glass cases with Faberge eggs in them (see below).
I walked along the red carpet until I entered a room that was clearly the resumption of the tour route. I read on the sign by the door that this was the room in which official meetings of the Tsar were held, and that I was currently standing in the room in which Nicholas II announced that he was going to take command of the army in World War I. It doesn’t look that political, for there is a beautiful piano in the center (the Empress was apparently really good at the piano), but I learned quickly that the Alexander Palace isn’t like the rest of the palaces I’ve seen here during my time here so far, and I just went with it.
And then I almost cried in the next room, hahaha. It was Alexei’s room (the hemophiliac heir), and I think that’s when it really hit me that this was probably the closest I would ever get to the last Romanovs. Closer there than to their actual remains in the Peter and Paul Cathedral, closer there than to the rooms throughout the Winter Palace. This is where they spent their daily lives, and I was in the room where Alexei spent his time. I saw his closets, his toys, and his little outfits. The next few rooms must have belonged to the daughters, and then there was a sitting room.
The next room, however, was the Mauve Room. The Mauve Room was Alexandra’s little haven, and just as you would imagine the room to be one hundred years ago, it was complete with purple flowers sitting on a bureau in front of the window. What got me the most though was the chair in the corner. For some reason, the Romanovs had a bagillion photos taken in this chair, and when I saw it I just about fell over. I could see them all siting in it! In THAT chair! It is such a bizarre feeling to have seen a picture a thousand times and then finally see it in person; your imagination is confronted with the reality, and when that quick process is all over, you’re left with nothing but surprise that the way you imagined the position and lighting of the scene is not at all how you imagined it to be. Does that make any sense? Like, I had no idea that the chair, which I had always seen to be resting in a corner, was inches away from the door frame. All the rooms in the palace are lined up in a row; there are no left turns or right turns, but instead one giant hallway with rooms all on your left and all the windows opening to the backyard on your right. Ah, I can’t explain myself. You have to believe how surreal it was! 
There were only a few other rooms, including Nicholas’s reception rooms (imagine how many ministers were dismissed in that room!), and his personal study, which was complete with a pool table and an old fashioned camera situated on a tripod. I must have taken 30 pictures of that one room (did I get every angle?!). There was a hall with photographs hanging on the walls, and then there were a few cases at the end of the hall that had some fancy armor and swords. I could have stayed there for a long time, and I wanted the rooms to continue, but before I knew it, I was back to where I started. Ah how I wish I could just be left alone unsupervised! I didn’t want to steal anything valuable of course; I simply wanted to sit in that chair! I wanted so badly to pass beyond the barriers and sit on the floor of whichever room - EVERY room I was in. 
Nicholas and Alexandra wanted to live in a smaller, cozier home, and after visiting the Alexander Palace, it was easy to see how they preferred to live. The Alexander Palace is unlike any other royal interior I’ve ever seen before, mainly because it didn’t appear royal whatsoever. The rooms of their children were modest; they had stuffed animals and regular looking beds. The walls were full of photographs, with the occasional painting, but it wasn’t full of bling like all the other royal residences. There were icons on the walls and more photographs in frames sitting on the desks. Flowers sat on tables, and there were pretty, homey rugs lying on the floors. There were books, dolls, china, dressers and chests, and I felt like you could honestly believe that people actually lived there once upon a time. I couldn’t believe that I had even hesitated to come here. Why did I ever think that? This is probably the most important destination to me, and how I felt throughout the entire time I was inside the palace only underscored that point about a thousand times. I had all but forgotten about everything. Conn? Maine? Forest and Cooper? Studying abroad in St. Petersburg? What’s all that? I was so lost in this dream while I was there, and it was an experience I would never trade for anything. The Yusupov palace (the one where Rasputin was killed) still remains my favorite palace, but this, as a whole, has been my favorite excursion since I arrived here. It’s been so personal!
093aslkfi””:”@(YFD:jhad’oawjh!!!
On another random note, spring has sprung here and spring fever has hit me LIKE A TRAIN. It went from full-length LLBean parka weather to my thin fall jacket weather overnight. Similarly, the days are getting extremely long. Everybody always rants about how great the White Nights are in
May and June, but nobody ever talks about the nights leading up to those during which the sun never completely sets. Currently, the sun rises early and doesn’t set until about 10 pm. It is so weird, but I LOVE it. On Friday night a bunch of us were out and about in parks around Gorkovskaya until we headed for the Leningrad bar after 9 pm (on another note, we all tried to buy alcohol in about three stores beforehand, and you know what happened? We couldn’t because nobody would accept the copies of our documents. We tried and failed three times to buy alcohol in RUSSIA. I repeat: we could not buy alcohol in Russia. What’s that called? An oxymoron? A paradox?), and I anticipate many more nights of park-hooligany before the semester is over. But hey, I’ve got no problem with that!
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