Museum Review: Commandant's House in Peter and Paul Fortress

I'm so happy today is November 24!

Because today is November 24, it makes perfect sense for me to finish off my museum exhibition reviews for the Peter and Paul Fortress-- because I only went three days ago. Yay!

So when I was at the Peter and Paul Fortress-- which was totally yesterday-- the last exhibition that Princess and I saw was the Commandant's House. To be perfectly honest, I didn't entirely understand what the "theme" of the House was supposed to be-- I mean, it was all about the Peter and Paul Fortress, but (in pictures that are as unavailable to you as they are to me) there were other parts of the exhibit which didn't entirely relate-- like a railroad, and something having to do with a lake. My best guess is that it's a "behind-the-scenes" look at the building of the Fortress... just a guess, though.

However, the general makeup of this exhibit is awesome-- for example, the entry room has a projector with a screen, and the walls surrounding it are covered in maps. The floor-- which, yes, there is a picture of-- is actually taken from either the street before modern times, or the fortress in general, I cannot recall. (My memory has grown hazy for it only being this week...)

Overall, this is another exhibition that I wholeheartedly endorse. It was a bit shorter than the others-- basically 2 1/2 rooms (or 2 rooms and a lodge above one of the rooms)-- but it was still interesting to look at, and quite fun.

Commandant's House

Emerging from the Valley of the Papers....

So sorry to have been a terrible blogger, everyone!

Still probably not going to put up a bunch of content, not for a lack of great material-- because, boy, do I have some things to talk about-- but for a lack of time.

A captivating illustration of my life at this present juncture

You know that whole "student ID card" thing that I'm always ecstatic about? Yeah, there's only one catch-- you have to be a student. And that means you have to take classes at a University. And that means you have to do term papers.

Now, this would normally be easy if all three papers weren't due on the same day-- 5-7 pages in English, with an introduction in Russian-- AND if I didn't have another obligation put on me that I was not previously expecting-- an obligation that I have proceeded to callously blow off, and will probably be castigated for whenever the person who I am doing said favor for returns. (Boy, am I loving dashes today.) But that is another prospect for another day; and for now, I am taking a deep breath between desperate doggy-paddles through articles and quote gathering to say, hello, I am still here, I have not forgotten you, and I'm sorry for abandoning everything for the last week.

Does this mean anything is going to change after this post?

.... meh, probably not.

But I did want to at least put something up to prove that I have not been 1) kidnapped by the Mafia, 2) caught up in an arms-trafficking scandal, or at the very least 3) had an attempt made on my life by the ever-fluffy Prince Charming. (He has been breaking into my room, however, in a nefarious plot to sleep on my bed and wake me up whenever I accidentally kick him.)

So, what do I have coming up, whenever I happen to be able to post actual content?

1) Four museum reviews;
2) Another tale of failed tourism;
3) History lessons (a.k.a. a recap of interesting and relevant material from the papers I've been writing-- oh, you look SO ecstatic); and
4) A shop review of one of THE shiniest stores I have ever seen in my life: the Eliseev store.

After using up this last burst of unproductivity, I shall return to the dull banality which is my life as a student in the middle of term papers.

Museum Review: Trubetskoy Bastion Prison in the Peter and Paul Fortress

This portion of the Peter and Paul Fortress was rather fascinating, and I'm not just saying this because I study politics: this prison was used to keep political prisoners, and on each of the cells, there was the story (and sometimes the picture) of the famous dissident kept within the cell walls. Even without the backstory, the exhibit was quite awesome; it described the different conditions within the prison, and how the treatment of the prisoners and functioning of the prison changed from era to era.

It was especially interesting to see how these prisoners lived; I never realized I was claustrophobic until I walked into a room that was specifically designed to lock people (such as myself) in. The museum showed the different security measures in place to keep prisoners from communicating, and even had a brief explanation of the prisoner knocking system.

All this was interesting; the high security cells were downright terrifying.

Political prisons such as this one only served one purpose: keeping prisoners isolated. And that's exactly what cells such as this one did. Literally, it was a dark room, with absolutely no light, and absolutely nothing inside. There was another room outside of it, meant to isolate the noise; and then, the outside world. You could scream all you wanted in that prison cell (if you were actually stuck in there) and no one would ever know.

Not only that, but the descriptions tended to be almost horrifically dispassionate. For example, one placard mentioned that the stairs used to be lined with chicken wire in order to prevent their use for suicide; and then, that was all. Just a perfunctory sentence, and no more.

And then try walking up those stairs with that neutral statement in mind.

Overall, I highly recommend this exhibit. It might make you squeamish, if you're one with an over-active imagination (like I am); however, it's still rather informative, and personally helped me increase my understanding of why being a political prisoner in any era of Russian history was such a terrible thing.

Trubetskoy Bastion Prison

If you give a Russian a Turkey...

Thanksgiving cooking in a Russian kitchen is officially the hardest thing I've had to do in my life.

Okay, so maybe that's not true, strictly speaking-- but it's pretty darn close. Especially in an apartment, cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal can be something akin to trying to juggle while riding a unicycle on a high wire so that you can jump through a ring of fire. Seriously.

Starting off: If you are ever an American in that particular position of needing to make something for Thanksgiving, be aware: the kitchen will be small, there won't be many pans, the utensils will all be different than you're used to, the ingredients will be hard to find, the measurements will be weird, and timing everything will be one of the most hassle-filled and frustrating things you will ever experience.

In other words, doing Thanksgiving in Russia is totally worth it.

Yesterday, Princess and I spent the entire day cooking-- and, of course, when I say cooking, I mean fighting through technical difficulties.

LESSON LEARNED #1: There's more bum yeast in Russia. The same thing that happened the first time I made the pirozhki (remember the whole depressing episode where I nearly cried because all the yeast were dying?) happened yet again, this time with an entirely different recipe. In fact, one would think there was absolutely no way the yeast could die this time, as the recipe calls for letting the bread rise in the refrigerator, and that exactly what I did; and yet, somehow, the morning after, I returned to see that the dough had not risen one bit. (Texture was right, appearance was right, and yet the yeast died. All this to prove that I'm somehow dumber than yeast.)

LESSON LEARNED #2: If you need an ingredient, there's a high likelihood they won't have it. For example, one ingredient that one would think would be important is a turkey-- tends to be the main dish, has special meaning. And yet, after a night of looking through stores, there was not a turkey to be found. So we had Thanksgiving chicken. It was tasty, but it just doesn't have the same ring to it.

LESSON LEARNED #3: If given a choice, cook with someone who's used to eyeballing things; otherwise, the conversions are just bizarre. Also, do not trust google. (There is no way humanly possible that 750g flour equals 6 cups. It's more like three. Maybe four. Maybe.)

These are just a few of the lessons learned from yesterday's Thanksgiving battle-- er, I mean, dinner. It could be quite frustrating, but in the end, I think the entire experience was worth it. Far better than having Italian food in a restaurant for Thanksgiving.

Demotivation Monster

I feel like I've risen from the dead.

To give you an idea, the post I just published-- in which I am complaining about my life taking over my life-- I started yesterday, and finished today. Seriously.

I had a night full of firsts last night-- some of them hilarious (faceplanting in front of the entire class as they watched in horror and bemusement), some of them painful (first ever real bloody nose-- treatment out here is shoving cotton coated with some kind of chemical up your nose; try sitting off to the corner with the guys looking at you with a mixture of sympathy, amusement, and disgust as you sit feeling like a Spanish bull)-- and didn't write a word about a single one.

Well, I won't let the Demotivation Monster keep eating my motivation; I shall slay it with unspent creativity, and I shall be victorious!

Peter and Paul Fortress: An Overview

YES!!!! After a day of my camera being stupid and life sucking up my... well... life, I have returned victorious!! And with plenty of shinies on hand, I shall begin!

So, on Monday, Princess and I finally saw the Peter and Paul Fortress. Was it worth it?

Well, for students, it's free, so on that token, it's a price I'm totally willing to pay. (*Cue Student ID Song*) However, for the general populace, I would still highly recommend it-- a general daily ticket gets you into 4 very interesting exhibits, which shall have their own little explanations and pictures.

These exhibits are:

1) The Burial Cathedral;
2) The History of Saint Petersburg exhibit;
3) The Prison; and
4) The Commandant's House.

(Not that I happened to see everything in that order or anything... Moving on.)

Now, the cost for the entirety of the Peter and Paul Fortress is a bit more-- the daily ticket gets you access to the aforementioned exhibits, but there is also an entire panorama tour, apparently, that can be bought at another ticket booth, plus individual exhibits such as the torture exhibit (pictures not included), the collection of Peter the Great (pictures also not included-- far too depressing), and the dragon exhibit (ridiculous amounts of pictures included). All three exhibits were quite interesting, but it felt... inhumane and inconceivable to post pictures of Peter the Great's Collection of genetic oddities (meaning entire walls of babies preserved in jars) or the history of torture in Russia (with people hanging from the rack and drawn illustrations of how elbow breakers work).

Overall, there's a reason why the Peter and Paul Fortress is one of the most important and famous places in St. Petersburg, and in Russia in general. In fact, this fortress helped ignite the start of the Russian Revolution. It's the perfect combination of entertaining, educational, and shiny.

See the shiny??

(I'll have posts for the exhibits and my reviews in separate posts after this one. This was just my first attempt at shrugging off the Demotivation Monster.)

Museum Review: Yelagin Palace (and Central Park)

This palace is directly next to the Museum of Glass Art. Well, I guess the more accurate statement would be "The Museum of Glass Art is built on the grounds of the Yelagin Palace"; but who cares about accuracy, anyway?

This palace was home to the mother of one of the tsars, making me wish that I could be a tsaritsa (it's pretty much the Russian equivalent of a princess) and wake up in a house like that. Everything was beautiful, and absolutely gorgeous-- turns out people back then really knew how to decorate.

The palace isn't particularly gigantic, but the gorgeousness of the place more than makes up for it. It's nowhere near as ritzy as the Yusopov Palace, but I think it's more enchanting because I could actually picture myself LIVING in a place like that, as opposed to the Yusopov Palace or the Hermitage (where I would get hopelessly lost).

Also, this time, Princess and I got in free, but only because we are students at an institute of CULTURE. The lady even verified what institute we were at before handing us the free tickets, which was nice since free is our favorite price.

Overall, when in St. Petersburg, I would recommend a day or two to walk through the two parks-- Central Park and Park Pobediy (which, oddly enough, does not have its own post; I am quite shocked)-- not only because it's quite beautiful during the spring, summer, and fall, but because these two museums are perfect for stopping by and checking out.

Additionally, Princess and I specifically got the билет (pronounced "bee-let") so that we could see all three parts of the Yelagin Palace. For example, outside of the ticket counter, there is a mini-museum of exhibits for particular artists. (For example, when we went yesterday, we thought the first half of the exhibit-- the lower floor-- was amazing, and that the upper floor sucked. One was photos that were less artistic than just poorly done [I'm sorry, a five year old could have taken some of them-- yes, this is the one on the second floor]; the other was  a painter who only worked on materials. Her artwork was absolutely gorgeous-- I never knew paint on wool could be so beautiful.)

Anyways, both the parks and the museums receive nothing but thumbs up from me, and hopefully after seeing all these pictures, you'll agree.

Yelagin Palace

Museum Review: Museum of Glass Art

Right off the bat, I have to say that I am biased towards these sorts of things, and that anything that is super shiny will make me hysterically happy with joy.

That being said, this museum is my favorite. Ever.

Is it sad that I find a museum filled with nothing but glass better than the Hermitage? Yes, probably. But for sheer entertainment value, (or the level to which I was excited), this museum was the best that I've seen, and by far the most entertaining.

Another benefit to this museum: This museum is directly next door to the Yelagin Palace (why, as a matter of fact, yes, there is a review of that coming up in the near future; how did you know?) and in the middle of Central Park-- you know, the area in which I had a photo-taking spree of nothing but lake shots? (It's quite eerie to compare the lake shots of yester-visit to the gray, dull, rainy reality of my visit yesterday. Are there photos? Well, when are there not?)

The museum starts with an explanation of how glass art is made (all in Russian, but with a very helpful video on the side), followed by countless examples of different kinds of glass. The art can range from classical vases (with awesome etchings in them) to crazy works of art that can only be understood by finding the right angle. (There was one which I still don't know what the proper angle should have been.)

I highly, HIGHLY recommend this museum. For students, the ticket is free; and everything is so beautiful that even though the museum is small, it is worth every single moment.

The Museum of Glass Art

And now, for a brief summary of my trip thus far in outdated song references

3 DAYS LATER

Kudos to whoever gets all these references...

A list of random facts

1) Russian eggs come in boxes of 10;

2) There ARE speed limits in Russia, after all (I just happen to never have seen one in my life);

3) Russian radiators are the most useful things ever-- clothes drying, helping dough rise, you name it;

4) If you like it in the US, bring it along. (Ladies: this is especially true of feminine products. MAKE SURE YOU BRING MORE THAN ENOUGH FOR THE ENTIRE TRIP. Why? Because especially with feminine products, Russian feminine products suck. They might even be US brands-- but if you're a female, and you plan on doing something other than staying in the house, bring your own. Seriously.) This also applies, however, to favorite candies (especially those containing peanut butter), music (Russian radio stations only play the pop songs that American radio stations moved on from a while ago, ergo the never-ending presence of the song "Moves Like Jagger"), and things of that nature; and

5) If you're saving up your huge shopping trip for getting great clothes for Russia, don't. (Not that I know this from experience *cough*; however, Russia is really hard on your clothes-- they wear out extra quickly-- and seems to defy the laws of physics, as you can eat all the carbs, sugar, and fats you want, and still drop so much weight  that all of your clothes are falling off and making it look like you're wearing a parachute. Again, not that I know this from experience.) Also, bring a belt. Or six. 

Museum Review: St. Michael's Castle

What's the difference between a castle and a palace?

If St. Michael's Castle is any indicator, a castle is like a palace's little brother-- still just as ritzy, but just slightly smaller. (It's especially interesting to go into a castle directly after going through a palace; the experience was generally a cause for much soul-searching, as I was always standing there, thinking, "So, wait... How is this different, again?")

I really liked going through this castle, not only because of the fact that it was big, beautiful, and littered with shiny statues (I like shiny statues), but also due to the fact that it actually helped me somewhat solidify my understanding of Russian history. (I'm taking Russian History at the moment, and while I'm normally hopelessly lost in class, what little I DO understand is popping up in my head whenever I see things having to do with the class, especially when there's an entire hallway filled with nothing but portraits of Russian tsars and tsarinas. Quite helpful.)

You knew there was a ceiling shot coming at some point-- I am the photographer of ceilings, after all.

Keep in mind that castles are smaller than palaces to begin with-- so that, combined with the fact that half of the castle is off-limits for civilians and non-governmental employees means that there is very little space.

However, these people KNOW how to utilize that space.

From the corridor filled with pictures of tsars and tsarinas (shown above), to the corridor filled with amazing tapestries, the upstairs portion of this museum is just glorious. Wrapping my mind around the fact that the tsar lived in places like these always makes my head hurt; and adding works of art that are probably worth more than the entirety of my education (both now and projected), all the houses that my family lives in, and my entire lifetime's estimated (projected) income certainly adds to the "wow" factor.

Then there's the downstairs. (Cue my transformation from culturally informed young adult to hyperactive and overenthusiastic kid in a candy shop.)

Downstairs, they have a MASSIVE collection of statues. I'm not just talking about the main room that you walk into, where statues line all of the walls; there's even a collection of statues sitting on shelves in the middle of (what I'm imagining are temperature-, humidity-, and pressure-controlled) glass panels.

The last part of the museum was the one in which I wanted to take the most pictures. It was also the one in which I took the fewest.

When looking at the photo album, there is one massively important thing to keep in mind: the creators of all of these art pieces were at the very least 9, and at the very most 16 years old.

How is that impressive? Well, let's see:

Now, maybe this is just me, but seeing THIS and thinking of how old these kids are makes me sit back and go, "Huh. Well, now my life feels hugely unproductive." I mean, come on-- a ten year old made an entire nature scene entirely out of leaves. LEAVES. This kid, whoever they are, have a million times more dedication, patience, artistic talent, and access to leaves than I ever have, or ever will.

Overall, this museum is great-- students get in for free (oh yes!), photography is rather cheap, and everything is thought provoking, whether seeing glimpses from the lives of the tsars (through portraits and walking through the castle) or admiring the works of Russia's future artists. And with its prime location, St. Michael's castle is delightfully easy to get to-- it's on the other side of the street from the Summer Garden, near Mikhailovsky Park (hmm, wonder where that name could have come from), a ten to fifteen minute walk away from the Church of the Spilled Blood, ridiculously close to the Russian Museum... I could continue, but I think that in this case, overkill is overrated. As long as you're in the area, you would be served well to visit this Museum. I promise, you won't regret it.

St. Michael's Castle

Museum Review: The Museum of Music (a.k.a. the Sheremetev Palace)

WARNING: THIS REVIEW IS WRITTEN BY AN EX-MUSIC MAJOR.

My feelings were very mixed about this Museum. 

On the one hand, half of it was under construction, most of it was inaccessible, and even after paying 200 rubles for photography (6 USD), we weren't allowed to take pictures in more than half the rooms.

On the other hand, everything on the inside that WAS open was absolutely gorgeous, there was musical instruments galore (I mean, come on-- a real Stradivarius violin!), and my weapons-and-musical-instrument-magpie self got to geek out over gilded rifles, swords, and an INSANE bugle being within three glass exhibits of each other.

While I get to reminisce about all the beautiful things I saw-- the ritziest rooms, with glass vases, fine works of art, beautifully crafted pieces used in the daily life of Sheremetev (and of which photography is prohibited)-- I also look back at the photo album of this museum, and wrinkle my nose with annoyance at the realization that I have photos of less than HALF of what I saw there today.

Could photos have captured the feeling of rapture at listening to a piece written for piano and violin echo within the lavish walls of a single room of this palace? 

No. 

Could photos explain how, suddenly, so many pieces of classical music (which I had previously found unbearably dull) made sense, within the context of this style of life? 

Again, no.

But could photos have illustrated how awesome a gun embellished with mother-of-pearl carvings and a sword with a velvet-upholstered sheath look, especially when there's a bugle as twisted as Medusa's hair one case over?

... I rest my case.

Overall, this museum is a great place to visit-- you get to be within amazing proximity of some of the most amazing instruments in the world (namely that Stradivarius-- man, is that rare). However, don't spring for the photos; if more of the museum was open, and/or more of the rooms were open for photography, I would wholeheartedly endorse the purchase; however, it would be better to just hold off, and instead buy photos for the Hermitage, or any museum other than this one.

Museum of Music (a.k.a. Sheremetev Palace)

Museum Review: The Hermitage

For those who were holding their breaths at my absence, (as if that was happening,) for the last week or so, I've been seeing and doing more than I've been posting. (A revolutionary new concept, I know; it's one I'm still working on mastering, much like how I still haven't gotten the hang of walking through doorways without banging some part of my body into the door.) And now, I have a review of one of the most famous sights in the entirety of St. Petersburg: the Hermitage.

The Hermitage actually took two days for Princess and I to explore, considering that the first day was split between the Hermitage, the Synagogue, and various other sundry tasks. This leads me to point #1: If you are going to go to the Hermitage, make sure to get there as early as you can, and be prepared to devote the entire day to wandering up and down its fantastic halls.

Point #2: The Hermitage is one of those awesome places where student IDs will get you in free, no matter what your nationality. (There are actually museums where this is not the case, such as the Yusopov palace; it's a shame, but really, it's only fair to expect the magical student ID to get you so far.)

That being said, be prepared for an information discrepancy as a foreigner, as even one glance at the signs at the Hermitage will show that there is a bias towards giving Russians more background information on pieces of art.

Just sayin'.

*As a hilarious note, be especially wary of this difference when looking at prices: oftentimes, what ends up happening is that most price discounts (such as discounts to the elderly, or to students) are written on the Russian sign, but not on the English one. (I have a picture of this from St. Isaac's Cathedral, but because the file is corrupted, I cannot post it.)

With such an information gap, it is thus really helpful to have Russian friends to come along with you. They can point out all the works of art that are famous in Russia, be horrified when you have no idea what something is, and give you either same amount of information (or more) on different pieces throughout the museum, including cultural tips on Russia. Plus, it's a great way to bond with friends in Russia, and a great way to unintentionally exercise. (I know I mentioned it before, but man, can the Hermitage be brutal.)

The Hermitage, for those who are curious, consists of three floors, which contain:

(Like I said, this thing is HUGE.)

Additionally, as you can see in the floor plans, there is TONS to see, making it so that even if there are entire exhibits that bore you to tears (such as still-lifes and portraits, for me, or hunting scenes and daily life paintings for Princess), you can skip past them, and still have enough pictures to last you a lifetime.

Which is why the photo album for this museum is so danged huge.

The Hermitage: Photos from Days One and Two

Just warning you, guys, this is NOT an album you want to sit down and look at in one sitting-- there are SO many photos of SO many different things that skimming for things that look shiny might be your best bet. (And if you think the photos are a lot to get through, try walking through the entire museum.)

The craziest thing about the Hermitage, however, is thinking that people actually LIVED here. Like, I would get lost at least seven times a day if I lived here; heck, I get lost walking home from Judo, much less living in a palace. But that's part of the charm of the Hermitage: every room is an experience, and even if we as measly tourists get lost, the art, and paintings, and statues, and ceilings, and floors, and chandeliers, and furniture all know exactly where they are. And as long as they stay still, that makes wandering a beautiful and exciting adventure.

Brief reflection on the day

Today, Princess and I went back to the Hermitage with our Russian friend, who I am calling from hereon out "Miss USA". It was fantastic fun; we managed to walk through every single hall in the Hermitage (seriously), and I got to work on my awful posing skills. (No, you cannot see pictures. I'm burning the sweater I wore today as soon as I get the chance and/or excuse.)

However, I thought I would mention a couple of interesting things that I learned today, seeing as there is not time tonight to write a review of the Hermitage:

1) Russians do, in fact, have speed limits, but they are apparently hidden (I've never seen one in my entire time here, nor have I seen anyone following them);

2) Every museum has stray cats in order to keep down the rat problem-- apparently, the Hermitage is home to 40 stray cats for that very purpose;

3) Russian eggs are sold in quantities of 10;

4) It's a universally recognized fact that Russians entirely disregard the law, especially small ones (such as no stilettos while in the Hermitage);

5) Catherine the Great used to take really expensive, ritzy chairs with her whenever she would travel with the troops;

6) People in the Caucuses mummified their dead much like the Egyptians, including their horses;

7) There is a painter in the Hermitage who seriously needs to thing of new things to paint (almost every single painting of his is "Nude Woman Doing _________________");

8) I fail at recognizing super famous paintings, but succeed at recognizing things that are super shiny;

9) There is nothing more awesome than making pirozhki that look beautiful, taste great and are super soft;

10) Museums are a FANTASTIC source of exercise (you walk and walk, and never sit down, but hardly notice until the end when your feet want to fall off); and

11) Maps of anything are amazing things, especially the Hermitage-- I think "Hermitage" might secretly be the world for "super ritzy museum-labyrinth that gets you lost even when looking at a map".

These are 11 of the interesting things that I learned today. (Aren't I oddly specific...) There will be more tomorrow-- and hopefully, it'll be more profound than today. But other than the lack of sweater burning, today was quite satisfying; and, at the end of a rather productive weekend, it was great to be able to knock off one more item from my list of things to do.

Recipe: Two delicious fillings for Pirozhki

So, be warned: Use the largest pot you have when making this dough, and be prepared to make TONS of filling. Whereas last time, the amount of dough wasn't even enough to finish off the filling, this time the dough rose to astronomical heights; and while it did make me feel rather proud of myself (look at me, making dough correctly), it also meant that I had to make much more filling than I anticipated.

Luckily, the recipes are ridiculously easy, so easy that they don't even need a recipe:

Eggs and Green Onion

Hard-boil 6 eggs, and chop them up. Saute green onions (I used 1 bunch of green onions) until just slightly wilted. Mix together. Add salt to taste. Put in pirozhok. (Seriously, that's it.)

And the other fantastically difficult filling?

Cabbage and Eggs

Saute cabbage in oil. Take the cabbage out of the pan, add eggs to the pan, and scramble the eggs. Mix them together. Add salt to taste. Put in pirozhok. (Oh, man, can you get any more difficult than that?)

Now that you've become an extremely experienced chef in Russian cuisine, you can now make the dough to make pirozhki AND fill them. Isn't broadening your horizons great?

Church Review: Church of the Spilled Blood

This church has been taunting Princess and I for at least a week, now.

Standing down the street from the famous Dom Knigi and Kazan Cathedral, this church is absolutely gorgeous on the outside-- every inch is covered in color, with mosaics and spires and icons... Absolutely fantastic. And the history is even richer than the church; for this church was built on the spot that Alexander II was assassinated, and is actually dedicated in his honor.

Knowing that, Princess and I were convinced that we had to go inside... Yet day after day, things kept coming up, and we didn't end up seeing it.

Until today.

Now, for those who are photo-happy, like I am, this church is a nightmare. There is SO MUCH to take pictures of, and so many different aspects to photograph, that the entire experience becomes a thing of torture. A great arm-workout, though; and painful on the neck.

In other words, I whole-heartedly recommend that you see this cathedral.

Once again, admission is free for students (I've even started creating a "student ID" song that I'm singing when we buy tickets), and even if it weren't, this church is so beautiful that every ruble spent is worth it. The inside is nothing but mosaics-- the walls, the ceiling... And you can even see the spot where Alexander II was shot. It's the most epic manifestation of a history class you could hope to see.

So, while google reviews makes me feel like my reviews are totally pathetic (Google rates this as "exquisite; flawless; perfection"; I rate it as "epic, awesome, shiny"), I do agree with Google's sentiment that this church is one you DEFINITELY have to see.

Church of the Spilled Blood

Recipe: Baked Pirozhki Dough

Before posting this particular recipe, I thought I would recount my tales of woe from earlier this week. This recipe was actually the result of three days' worth of strife over the dough, and many unfortunate mishaps.

Let's take a flash to the past, shall we?

Day One: First Recipe

Source: Old Russian Cookbook

So, first day is chugging along, and I think that everything is going great. I've got the pot near somewhere that I think is warm, everything's going well....

Suffice it to say, that was not the case. I will skip the drama and heartbreak (why isn't the dough rising? Why is there so little dough? Why is there so much filling?) and say that if you aren't with someone, the Russian cookbooks can kind of suck. With fantastically specific directions such as, "Put the pirozhki in when the oven is warm" (because warm is obviously a very specific temperature), missing ingredients (oh, let's just make bread without eggs) and missing steps (did you know you're supposed to let yeast RISE before you dump it into dough?), this recipe was a huge flop. However, at the time, I thought the fault was mine for not putting it on something hot; so I decided to go on and make it again the next day.

Day Two: When Things Get Anticlimactic

Same recipe as Day One

After having learned the secret of yeast (let it rise with some sugar, and THEN put it in dough), I begin my attempt once more, microwaving some milk until it's lukewarm and then dumping in a packet of yeast before setting it on the radiator to rise. (Turns out that Russian radiators are specifically meant for heating things other than the room; who knew?) In my excitement/nervousness, I check the pot to make sure that the yeast is rising. And it is! 

... and then the moment I put the pot back to let the yeast finish rising, the pot flips off of the radiator and dumps its entire contents (including my beautifully rising yeast) onto the floor.

I almost cried.

Day Three: When Things Get Frustrating

Still same recipe as Day One

At this point, the pirozhki were no longer a task for fun, but a quest. I would not let my honor be defiled by these pesky pastries; and thus filled with determination, I followed every cursed step of that recipe, save one.

I had no choice, mind you; I needed to let this dough rise, but at the same time, I had class. So, when I frantically returned home to find that the dough had died (the top was hard, and lifeless), and the dough was tough to work with, I finally decided that it was time to take things to the next level.

Day Four: Retribution

New and flashier recipe

That night, disheartened and disillusioned when I found I had created monstrosities as hard as hockey pucks, I turned to my dear friend, the internet, for answers. And boy, did the internet deliver. 

Here is the illuminating shot of all the pirozhki that I made, side by side:

Don't let that speck of brown in the middle fool you; that's an apple pirozhok prepared from store-bought dough. The weird one that looks like a flying saucer directly behind it is try one, and all the dry, brittle ones that look like they can break your teeth are try #3. (Try #2 is invisible.)

I found this recipe off of slopal.ru, which is a very nifty website. I haven't gotten any other recipes off of it, but still, put the recipe through google translate, and, if you have a basic understanding of Russian, it's quite easy to piece together what you're supposed to do. (I, however, will translate for you, and explain what I myself did when making these delicious, delicious pies.)

For this recipe, you will need:

At least 1.5 kg flour (or around 6 cups);

.5 liters of milk (or 2 1/8 cups);

5 eggs, plus one to glaze the pirozhki;

300 g sugar (or 1 1/4 cups);

50 g. butter (or 3.5 tbsp);
200 g margarine (or 1 3/4 sticks-- 14 tbsp);

Enough dry yeast for 1.5 kg flour (I just used 1 1/2 packets, or about 5 1/2 tsp)

*Update: I would recommend putting in 2 whole packets of yeast, because what I realized is that even though the recipe is meant for 2 kg of flour, the amount you end up putting in is much, much more. Thus, it's better to put in more yeast; the results are much more epic, I promise.

So, the first step is letting the yeast rise. This is very important, because otherwise, you bake a hockey puck your host mom is afraid to eat for fear of hurting her teeth. (Not that I know this from personal experience... Moving on.) 

What I did, because neither the recipe nor the yeast had directions for letting the yeast rise, was to add enough water-- about a cup or so-- that I could put all the yeast in the water, and have it spread out relatively evenly. Then I added a spoonful of sugar, covered the entire thing with a towel, and let the yeast rise for about fifteen minutes, the results of which looked something like this:

Impressive, isn't it?

Meanwhile, I melted the butter and margarine together, so that they were smooth:

After melting in the butter, I added in the milk. Here's the first part where the recipe and I differ: the recipe specifies that the milk must be warm before adding it to the butter, otherwise when you add in the eggs, the eggs will curdle and ruin everything. However, I had the entire mixture boiling the entire time I was completing the next step (not on purpose, mind you) and by whisking continuously, I managed to mix everything together with no harm done.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Next, I took the five eggs, put them in a bowl, and whisked them with the sugar. The result was not white or frothy, but somewhat foamy and integrated.

I also thought I'd point out that Russian eggs have brighter yolks than American ones do. That is all.

Next, making sure to stir/whisk continuously, pour the egg/sugar mixture back into the butter/milk mixture:

Once you've added the eggs (and made sure they didn't curdle), add in the yeast to the entire mixture.

Here's where things get a little bit tedious: sift all the flour into the mixture, kneading the rest of the flour in once the dour is solid enough:

*A note about sifting flour: I discovered that there is a smart way, and a dumb way to sift flour. 

Dumb way: tapping the side of the sifter, hoping desperately that the flour isn't going to go absolutely everywhere at once.

Smart way: take a spoon, run it against the bottom of the sifter, and thus have better control of the flour while getting everything sifted faster. Technology is amazing.

*Update: Additionally, smartest thing to do, pretty much ever: Take a separate bowl and sift all of your flour at once, so that when you're adding the flour into the dough during this next step, life is much, much easier. (This may be common sense, but it's something I only discovered after my second try.)

After adding the 1.5 kg of flour, keep adding flour until the dough isn't too terribly sticky; it will still be stickier than you'd like it, but you'll add in more flour farther along. Let the dough rise for a while (I let it rise for about an hour just because after try #3, I was paranoid; but an hour and a half would probably be safer), and then knead it  back down, adding flour to adjust for stickiness. Then, sit back, relax, and let it rise again.

Now, here is a little caveat:

On the first night, a.k.a. Try #1, I created a rice filling. I couldn't tell what exactly the recipe wanted; it had something about needing 10-12 cups of water, but then at the end, it said "for every 1 1/2 cups of rice, add 3-4 boiled eggs". Did the recipe mean cooked rice? Or dry? And after deciding it meant dry, I went on and baked the recipe.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

All three actual attempts were made from the rice and egg mix of try #1; and considering it was a total experiment that went horribly wrong and created monstrous amounts of filling, I am not putting up that recipe here. The important thing about pirozhki, after all, is the dough; you can fill them with just about anything, including apples, cherries, meat, mashed potatoes, scrambled eggs... The options are limitless. So rather than try to create the filling that never ends (seriously, I had to throw some of it away after try #4, because there was STILL SOME LEFT), I'm going to happily move on to what to do with whatever filling you choose.

During the time that you're rolling out your dough, preheat the oven to around 175 degrees Celsius (or 345 degrees Fahrenheit). The oven has to already be heated when you put in the pirozhki; otherwise, apparently, it summons the four horsemen of the Apocalypse (which ride terrible pirozhki steeds, I suppose). Also, rather than greasing the pan, I just used parchment paper; and it made life so much easier.

Now, is there a proper way to roll out pirozhki? Probably. Did I do it? Not a chance. I personally was grabbing handfuls of dough, spreading them out to a moderately thin consistency, dumping filling in the middle, and then molding everything shut so that it was a nice, closed bun.

The dough was super elastic, and easy to handle; and that made making the pirozhki that much easier. 

So, after you make the actual pirozhki, you let them sit for about ten minutes, during which time they rise and settle. 

Then, using that one last egg from before, you put a glaze on the buns, and pop them in the oven. I found that every single batch that I baked were done at exactly 35 minutes; but keep an eye on the oven, and watch for when then turn brown.

And now you have delicious Russian cuisine, hopefully without the tears and near-breakdowns that I had to endure in order to find this recipe. Russian food is absolutely delicious and filling, and no matter what you put on these pirozhki, they're sure to be fantastic. After all, the goal is to never have to eat a hockey puck.

Update for the day

It's been a CRAZY couple of days-- I actually still haven't gotten around to reviewing half of the things we saw this weekend (the Cossack Church, the Lutheran Cemetery) or even what we did today (the Synagogue and parts of the Hermitage), but I like to think that I've been keeping a relatively steady stream of moderately informative content.

Before I put up a restaurant review (and hopefully unveil the traumatic but victorious end of four days' worth of unsuccessful baking), I wanted to highlight a couple of things about being a tourist in Russia:

1) The very best way to come here is as a student. I know this isn't always possible; but there are so many benefits to coming to Russia, armed with a student ID. (Adding on to the long list of things with free access, ALL parts of the Hermitage are free to students, regardless of nationality. That's pretty awesome.)

2) Be aware that the only way you might end up getting cultural excursions is by creating them for yourself. When Princess and I left for Russia, we had been told that the Institute would set up excursions for us. (Suffice it to say, that never happened.) Use the internet; look at maps. You'll never believe what you'll find.

3) The "shiny" method is the best way to go. What is the shiny method, might you ask? It's something I came up with in order to describe my short attention span-- in other words, if you see something "shiny" (something you like, think looks interesting, etc.), do it. You'd be surprised by how many things you discover just by ditching plans and going spur-of-the-moment. And, obviously, while it's good to have an idea of what's around, this is the best way to find those hidden jewels (like Happiness) that aren't on the map.

4) Try not to take it personally. In this one, I'm specifically talking about doing anything that's predominantly male-oriented when you're a female in Russia. Those who know me would fall over in shock to see me in class: instead of talking incessantly (hey, I readily admit it), I normally stay out of conversation unless someone specifically engages me. (True, it also has to do with the fact that my Russian is still not quite up to par; but more than that, it's because I know where I fit in the cultural scheme of things.) I've had to bite back my pride as guys have gone down the line of people, shaking hands, thrust a hand towards me, then saw I was female, freeze, and draw back. I've had to smile and act appreciative when a white belt who had absolutely no idea what he was doing decided it would be helpful if he tried to correct me the moment I started doing any move with him, sometimes even grabbing me in the middle of something and trying to change my body position. (He was totally wrong, by the way.)

But in the end, I've grinned and born it; not because I feel that it's the proper way to go about things (not by a long shot), but because I've realized these things take time. Sure, at first they probably thought I was pathetic because I can't do half the things that they can; but the longer I've been here, and the more they've seen me try, the more they'll take things down a notch for me, so that instead of trying to dive roll over a standing person (which is terrifying), I have to dive roll over a kneeling person (which, for me, is also still terrifying, but not to the same extent); when they're doing front handsprings, they'll let me do the baby steps, and not get frustrated when it takes me a while. In fact, they've figured out that I've done Judo before, and while people still look a bit irritated when they have to pair with me, I'm realizing it's less because I'm "the young lady" and more because I think I might have a reputation of being really hard to throw. (Whoops.)

Additionally, doing things their way has made it easier when I start doing things mine. At first, I was afraid to punch things; but once I started hitting that glorious "punching bag" (which I still insist is several blocks of wood screwed into the wall with some padding and a cover nailed on top), I felt so much better, and the guys started understanding that Judo isn't necessarily my emphasis. And apparently, mentioning UFC and MMA as a means of asking if anyone there does sparring is THE best way to earn street cred with ridiculously talented and in shape Russian martial artists. (Totally wasn't the intention-- I just wanted to spar someone, and didn't know the word in Russian-- but it has some nice benefits.)

All I'm trying to say with this, is that just because things are DIFFERENT doesn't mean that you won't be able to make them work. It'll take a bit of time to adjust, and to tweak your own habits accordingly; but as long as you try not to take things personally, and roll with whatever happens, you'll find yourself having much more fun than you ever expected.

Anyways, now that I officially have two epic posts coming up in the future (both which, unfortunately, must be completed tomorrow), I have just this to say: your time in Russia is yours alone. Make as much, or as little, of it as you wish; however, just remember that at the end of the day, make sure you've done your trip with no regrets.

Church Review: Kazan Cathedral

So, some might (or might not) remember the photos I took of a certain building with a very impressive dome and columns, which I had no idea what it was called.

(To jog your memory, I'm talking about this:

For those who are curious, this photo is literally called "mysterious building panorama".

See? Impressive dome and columns.)

As it turns out, this is none other than Kazan Cathedral, which houses the oldest and most sacred relic in Saint Petersburg. The building on the outside is quite pretty; the inside, however, is absolutely stunning.

Here is my disclaimer: Any and all pictures I use of the cathedral from this point are not photos that I have taken-- unfortunately, like the Museum of the History of Religion (and the metro), the church doesn't allow photography. However, other people have taken pictures of what I cannot; and thus, everything that I saw can be shown (instead of having me pathetically try to describe things that are just too beautiful and intricate for words).

So, this is a general shot of the inside of the cathedral:

At the very front left-hand side (you can follow the line of people), there is a copy of the famous icon that I mentioned before; and the icon itself is in the center, directly under the chandelier. Everything is painted gold, and there are icons scattered EVERYWHERE.

However, I should really clarify and say that this is what it looks like when illuminated; when I went there, even with it being the middle of the day, the cathedral actually looked more like this:

Additionally, there is always (it seems) a huge line of people waiting to kiss the icon. I'd say it was unique, except that it was possible to pull up a photo of a line within one scroll of a google search:

Overall, however, I would highly recommend visiting the Kazan Cathedral: it is open and free for everyone (not just us who have magical student IDs), and while you can't take actual photos inside, it is still worth seeing for yourself. (I've noticed that there are certain things that you really have to see to believe.)

Whether or not you kiss the icon is entirely up to you; but even if it's to wander in for five minutes, mourn that you can't take pictures, and then scour Google for images to save (not like I just did that or anything), it's an extremely satisfying and beautiful site.

(All outside and inside photos of this cathedral can be found here.)