Day 10

Posted by

What was bad about Sunday was many places of interest were not open, but it left me with every reason to oversleep. I took my time to put away my clothes and go to have lunch before I set off to a relatively remote park by subway.

Not only did the Russian metro station look magnificent from outside, but it was beautifully decorated inside as well. Possibly for the sake of air defense , the underground was much deeper than that in China. Thanks to that, every time I took the elevator down, I would stare at the lined-up lights aside for decades. Also, it took me minutes to go through the tortuous halls and hours to figure out which direction I was going to by reading the guiding board. There was a time when I believed I had gone lost because I had always been mixing English and Russian letters.

The only thing to do in the face of long steps is to let your thoughts wander.
Patterns on the wall

Travelling at the station was like wandering through the wonderland where I would not only admire the artworks on the wall but also encounter lovely people. Among people walking, sitting and standing, I saw a girl drawing sketches of the roof. Only after permission, I took a photo of her but she obviously could not hold the way she was drawing. On the subway, a teenage boy looked in my direction at me or at my camera curiously and I looked at him in the eye in return. We were silent with tacit understanding that we could not communicate in either language. Also, we waved polite goodbye when I got off at some northern station.

A drawing girl

Residents in St. Petersburg must have been accustomed to going out when it began to rain all of a sudden but I did not. After reaching the park, I was also disappointed that the entertainment facilities were all shut down. In this case, a tour for recreation became observation into people and plants again. Hence, I left for the apartment as soon as the street lamps were lit.

It looked like a deserted park at night.

I was starving on my way back and slipped into a well-known bakery nearby whose name I forgot. Adopting my friend’s recommendation, I ordered a Klenovyi pekan. It tasted sweet with maple syrup and pecan nuts, but no sweeter than my dear friend. Just a while later, I wished I would have bought one more or savoured it slowly.


Tomorrow I would leave St. Petersburg for Moscow, ready to be back, while I still had little knowledge of this artistic and historic city also named Leningrad in the past.