Story & photos by Joshua Berida
I was on a train from Veliky Novgorod, the birthplace of Russia, bound for St. Petersburg, the former imperial capital and it was still early and dark; the sun hasn’t even shone yet.
I was between wakefulness and sleep as the passengers boarded from and alighted to small, nondescript towns in between the two historical cities.
Before I knew it, it was only a few minutes to my stop, as the crowd grew and occupied almost the entire cabin I was on. I figured these might be day workers who were just traveling to the city to work. The train shuddered and an announcement said—first in Russian and then in English—that I finally arrived at my destination. I took my bags and as the door opened, a whiff of cold air greeted me.
I stepped out of Moskovsky Railway Station, one of the oldest in the city dating back to the late 1840s, and took a glimpse of the city. The Stalinist, neoclassic-style buildings lined the street a couple of meters away and a mall with brands I’m familiar with were right next to a mini café.
I talked to a taxi driver using broken English and a Russian translation of the accommodation’s address, and in a few seconds I was on my way. I was eager to discover what St. Petersburg had in store for me.
The names of the city
There’s something appealing about reinvention, the rising from the ashes, the changing of names, having a new slate, or just wearing something new. This is especially true in a place where no one knows you and you know no one. You could walk into a bar and be the life of the party, or sit in a café and strike a conversation with a beautiful woman; where you slink into anonymity and no one calls you out. You could introduce yourself under a different name, one that you feel suits you better, and create an alternative past, present and future.
Peter the Great founded St. Petersburg in the 1700s when his army defeated the Swedes and took Nyenskans, the fortress situated at the mouth of the Neva River. From a small town, it became the imperial capital where an empire arose.
Art and culture thrived when the royal family and their court commissioned artists from different parts of Europe to build monuments and statues, create masterpieces and design their palaces. This golden era lasted for centuries with its apex in the mid 1700s to the late 1790s, guided by the clearheaded and ambitious Sophie Friederike Auguste von Anhalt-Zerbst, or more famously known as Catherine the Great.
The Bolshevik Revolution led by Vladimir Ilich Ulyanov, also known as Vladimir Lenin, changed the course of the city’s history. Revolution was in the air in the early part of the 20th century. Russia was eager to forget its imperial and lavish past that left a substantial percentage of the population destitute. Amid the uprising and a fervent desire for change, St. Petersburg became Petrograd.
The new name needed a new state; Russia became part of the Soviet Union with Lenin as its leader. The sweeping reforms under the ideology of Communism changed the country and permeated in every action and decision of the government.
Then Lenin died—Petrograd became Leningrad. New buildings, fountains and statues rose within the city, displaying the bravado of Stalin and his rise to power. Parades stomped the grounds of the squares and the masses plastered slogans on walls or recited them religiously. Soldiers plundered and burned churches, palaces and houses owned by the bourgeoisie, all in the name of a new beginning.
Then it all ended in 1991, when the Soviet Union collapsed, marking the end of an era. In search of a new identity or the restoration of an old one, the city reverted as St. Petersburg.
Of long walks and no itineraries
I spent hours just walking with no particular destination in mind. I just went where my feet took me, turned into a corner when I saw something beautiful. I went into random alleys and narrow streets where beautiful buildings lined the river, bathed in the soft glow of the clear, cloudless sky. True to its moniker, St. Petersburg is the “Venice of the North.” This is the closest I can get to the Italian city for now.
I walked and walked, crossing the Neva River and into the Peter and Paul Fortress. This complex was many things throughout its history, from a garrison to a prison for political prisoners to a tourist attraction.
I walked some more along Nevsky Prospect, passing by the Singer Building and the Kazan Cathedral, the latter of which will remind you of Italy with its columns, dome and beautiful sculptures. I passed a statue of Catherine the Great, the Anichkov Bridge that was more than a century old, and the Stroganov Palace and the Beloselsky-Belozersky Palace that were restored to their former glory.
My feet got me to the Vosstaniya Square, where mass protests and revolution electrified those that witnessed them a century ago. Buses and cars drove by, pedestrians came and went, and the bustle of the city went on without missing a beat.
It was already dark when I returned to the Palace Square. The lit-up Winter Palace created a soft ambient light. Locals gathered around an artist that set up his instruments near the Alexander Column. He began singing, I couldn’t understand a word of the song, but the camaraderie was palpable. Some were tipsy carrying a bottle of beer, drunk, or just curious. The crowd started to sing along, or hum in between taking photos and videos.
St. Petersburg may have many names throughout its history. The vestiges of what it was and what it could be are all over the city; the decrepit buildings about to be demolished, the restored palaces and churches, the Lakhta Center towering over its surroundings, the streets where royalty and revolutionaries walked, the lined and wrinkled faces of tired men and women who have witnessed its rise and the fall, and the bright-eyed faces of a generation who are looking ahead and hopeful.
Image credits: Joshua Berida