Just in case the call of the Eastern front beckons, we’ve compiled a compendium of favorite adventures. Of course, if you want even more detail we’ll be happy to show you our three hour slideshow or the more complete eight hour version. Kidding. But not really.
St. Petersburg
We were told this was the oldest restaurant in St. Petersburg which is- kind of – true. The restaurant is in the same place as the original Palkin, which back in the pre-Soviet days served regulars like Tchaikovsky and Dostoyevsky. Nonetheless, the rococo decor and snap-to-it waitstaff made us feel like we were dining in the home of an aristocrat. They fawned over us with flowery sobriquets, “Welcome our dear guests,” and delighted us with theatrical touches like serving some Russian winter (an overflowing fog of dry ice) with the sorbet course. The food was traditional, pricey, delicious and worth every over-the-top bite.
Our Eatwith hosts recommended this hip gastropub, Duo. Industrial chic, offering locavore cuisine served by tattooed lumberjack-wearing Loveboys. It was packed when we arrrived for our 9:30 dinner reservation so we had to sit at the bar. The industrial light bulbs. The chalkboard menu. The heirlooom tomatos. The kale. The lumber-chic waitstaff. We were in a reverie of “just like Los Angeles” when our waiter asked, “So do all Americans think Russians are drunk and want war?” We talked politics and agreed Hester Blumfeld is a genius and ordered another glass of wine.
Bunnies. Schi. Vareniki. This cozy spot, decorated like a Provencal bistro, is a great lunch place a couple of blocks from the Hermitage. You’ll get all the regular Russian comfort foods. The food’s good. Like most everyone is Russia, they try hard to understand what we’re ordering. The real draw? Rabbits. As you head to the bathroom, a kids’ room has a collection of rabbits to pet. I think health and safety probably wouldn’t like it, but we did.
A W is a W is a W. It’s glam. There are beautiful people and the DJ plays house music. This W has the advantage of rooftop view of St. Issac’s and grand vistas of the Neva. They gave us blankets to warm ourselves in the fading midnight light as we held on to our cool sipping our $18 cocktail and trying not to look like tourists obsessed with capturing our selfies and that incredible view.
A Soviet donut experience: Stand in a long line that winds through a well-worn mismatched Formica tables with collections of haggard hardhat workers, pink haired teenagers and wrinkled babushkas, their mouths ringed with powdered sugar. At the counter you hand over 30 rubles to the baker who looks like she may have been standing in that same spot since 1964, when the shop first opened. You’ll get back 3 pyshki, warm fluffy donuts dusted with powdered sugar, so light you won’t even feel yourself inhaling them.
Kupetz Eliseevs Food Emporiuem
Right before the Revolution, Art Nouveau had captured the hearts of the gilt-mosaic-decorative-loving Russian people. Flourish is so embedded in the culture – from music to ballet to onion dome – it’s a wonder anyone could stand the Soviet drab. This shop is housed in a curlique mecca and filled with classical European gourmet treats from black caviar to lavender merengue cookies to the best pain au raison I have ever eaten.
We had to get special tickets for our English speaking tour of 15 Faberge eggs displayed in high elegance in this former palace. Owned and operated by one of the new Russian oligarchs, the museum delivers a wow of jewels, history and architecture. Harry thought he’d be bored by a few enamel and gold trinkets but came away with an appreciation of an amazing story of engineering, craft and treasure hunting. Me? I found a few new things to search on eBay.
Russians invented ballet. How could we not go? The intimate Old Marinsky’s grandeur made us wish for our powdered wigs, looking glasses and frilled damask pants. The performance (Legends of Love – a Soviet love story) was mesmerizing. The diva’s entrance was met with adoring applause as her impossibly lithe figure morphed from a mincing flutter to a powerful flight. The Soviet-themed love story (Boy falls for girl, then loses girl, then tries to win her back but at the last minute decides operating a community well is a better idea) left us wanting. No wonder it hasn’t been optioned.
St. Issac’s Cathedral Dome Overlook
Wandering back from the Marinsky we stopped at St. Issac’s and bought a ticket to climb the 300 stairs to the dome. The gorgeous 360 degree rooftop view left us breathless in more ways than one.
Moscow
Sitting inside a high glass dome on the Belgian linen sofas while dining on molecular gastronomical wizardry in the middle of a Moscow lightning storm is magical. All the usual suspects served – caviar, potatoes, sturgeon, but this time made into artwork. The crowded, well-heeled tables were filled with young, entitled big fish ordering rounds of champagne, a very different crowd than those we had met on our trip. The rain stopped just as we left so we could take that one last subway trip home, a perfect ending to our Russian vacation.
We wanted a Russian sweat. The Russian version included birch branches, scrubs and vodka. We had had enough vodka (spaziba) and opted for non-alcohol version in a privacy at Sunduny, the most famed of the banjas. For about $100, we got a private suite with a large lounge, mini-bar and TV, a bedroom and bath plus the sauna area with sauna, massage tables and cold plunge pool. All robes, towels and slippers were included. Birch branches cost another $5. We weren’t sure how to do the Russian kind of birch slapping massage, but we did our best imitation and left feeling blissed out.
Part tourist mecca, part wonderland of Soviet-era nostalgia, part wonderland of crap, Izamailovo should be seen to see it. The faux village façade alone is a wonderment of kitsch. I still regret not buying the Star Wars matrouschka dolls.
I like my cappuccino in a Beaux Art ballroom, fountains and with a harpist playing at all times. At least now that’s what I’m used to after brunch at the Metropol. That’s the best place to read the Moscow Times, where the scandals, struggles and quirky of the ex-patriot community air, amidst the disturbing news of Putin’s latest move toward Cold War politics. A harpist makes even the police with machine guns on the streets seem perfectly peaceful. Another cappuccino, please.
I didn’t know that Lenin faces Louis Vuitton. On the other side of Lenin’s tomb, where the dead revolutionary still looks fantastic, is GUM, the largest luxury shopping mall in Moscow. Before the revolution GUM had 1200 shops. During Soviet times, it was the site of legendary bread lines. Today, it’s full of LV bags, Manolo’s, and Harry Winston. If that’s not enough shopping, a few blocks away is Tsum, the other luxury department store that is the only store I’ve ever seen racks of $20,000-$50,000 Oscar de la Renta couture dresses ready to try. Beverly Hills can’t hold a candle to you Moscow.
Moscow subways
They called them the “people’s palaces,” covered in marble, decorated with mosaics and chandeliers, some so dramatic we felt like we were standing on a movie set. Counting the stops from arrival to destination was essential since finding signage in many stations is a treasure hunt.
This place is a heist movie waiting to happen. We had to wait in the lobby for our ticket time to be called. Once inside it was just we three (Harry, me and our guide) and another couple plus three armed guards and bucket loads of diamonds. Literally, buckets. Forget seeing England’s crown jewels, the Russians slay the competitive sparkling stone market with this museum. Catherine II amazing gold crown, earrings with gemstones the size of eggs, necklaces with enough gold to start a war…or a revolution. These were the goods. We left with half an outline and a partial beat sheet for a romantic-thriller, sort of a Russian Ocean’s Eleven….
Cecilia Najar 