Chasing the gymnast

Well, folks, I had a pretty good day. I met my new
interpreter/translator/shurper/friend/foil/guide today. Her name is Julia, and she is Olga, the marchmistress’s niece. Julia is 20, an aerobics instructor, and a member of her college gymnastics team. My wife Lena employed her for me. (Lena is SUCH a wonderful woman.) She doesnt speak English very well, (who cares.) doesn’t know the city near as well, (who cares.) is a lot less familiar with the transport routes, (who cares.) but she can do the splits on a balance beam and walk on her hands!

Seriously, she is a very nice, very attractive young lady and we seem to get along very well.

For day one, we planned to see the cruiser, The Aurora, and Domik Petra I. The Aurora is a warship about 100 years old, and has the distinction, or infamy, of having been the place from where the signal was fired to begin the storming of the winter palace, calling the Bolsheviks to begin their revolution. Domik Petra I, as you may have guessed, was the first home here of Peter the Great. (OK, maybe you didn’t guess it…)

Julia does have a bit of her aunt in her. We must have walked 10 miles today. We started on a tram, which took us part way. We got off and began marching. (Did YOU ever try to keep up with a 20 year old aerobics instructor?! I don’t think they realize that you can get tired from walking along flat ground. )

She was so cute and sweet I couldn't let on that I was dying. We marched past the street where the US Embassy is, past the old KGB Building, past the new KGB building, and we come to a bridge crossing the Neva river. We begin to cross the bridge and it appears to occur to her that we are on foot. She exclaims, "Oh, it is very far! Do you want to turn back?" To which I, with my lungs bursting, my legs burning like a triathlete, and my eyes glazed over reply, "No, no problem. Let's keep going, it's a nice day for a little

walk." Vanity, sometimes man is thy name.

Never expect a Russian woman to insist. She never offered again. Hell, she never even looked back. I am struggling to keep her in sight, considering hithchiking, but we were on the left side of the street. She led the way, and I gamely followed. Mercifully, it started to rain. Lots of rain, and a strong wind. She stopped, I caught up, and she opened up an umbrella and began to hold it over my head. I took if from her, (I still have SOME pride....) and held it over her head, letting about two thirds of my body gallantly protrude into the storm. She was aghast. She fairly cried for me to get under the umbrella and let her get wet, which I, being a gentleman, (not to mention a Texan.)refused to do. She then tucked her arm in mine, and we strolled lazily, arm in arm toward the dot on the horizon of the river that was most surely the Aurora. It was picturesque. It was wonderful. Like taking the lead in a dance, I for once controlled the pace of our movements. We gracefully, unhurriedly slid past the beautiful iron grating on the bridge, inexorably inching toward the launch, which was our goal.

Now you could make out the outline in the distance. No matter, I had
the reins. Your hero was leading the way toward ultimate victory.
(I don’t know why we were almost running in the first place. This is a
100 year old boat. I don’t think it was going anywhere.) We round a
bend, and see the fence guarding the entrance to the grand vessel, then we see the gate. Then we see the chain on the gate, then we see the lock on the chain.

The boat is locked. Locked up tight. The good thing is, the restaurant
at the foot of the boat is not. It is open, and they have diet Pepsi.
We stopped in, and naturally, she wouldn’t drink anything. I guess she hadn’t worked up a sweat yet. I sucked down part of a hot soda, and then we were off again.

Peter the Greats first house is about a km from this boat, and it is
around a couple of corners, so the fact is, it makes sense to walk
there. (I know this area a little.) We walk over, and finally get to
see this house of Peter the Great.

It is a shack. Pitiful. It looks like something Abe Lincolns family
wouldn't have rented. I think this may have been the model for Pap
Finns cabin. There were three rooms, a raggedy old armchair that Pete supposedly made himself, a cast of his hand in silver, and a cane that belonged to him. One cool thing was a sailboat there that Peter the Great had built. He went to western Europe and worked as a boat builder before he became Tsar. He was a hands on guy.

We left there, and caught a trolley (JOY! ) to get to the computer store
so I could have these film cards put on cd again. I dont know why, but she chose a trolley that turned off Nevsky ave. about 2 miles from where we needed to go. There are several trolleys, vans, buses, and assorted forms of transport that could have taken us all the way for the same price, but she chose this one. We get off the tram, walk to the store, and drop off the film cards.

Now we get to go back to the library. It is just about where the tram
just dropped us off, so we hoof it back. (I swear, I think the statue
of Catherine the Great was laughing as I came by.) I made it to the
library, and thereby survived Julias regimen. Nice girl, but I am going
to die if this keeps up.

I had ordered some books Friday, so I checked, and two of them were in. I spent a couple of hours with PJ O'rourke, Lena found me, and we ate another $1.25 meal at the library and left. All in all a good day.
Julia was nice, and if it rains, I will survive.