San Petersburgo: Majestic Sadness
This city is the legacy of a madman, so it has some delirious dream, fantasy and some misfortune. The emperors, as the Tsars, often lose track of their aspirations and demanding the impossible just because no one dares to say "enough". St. Petersburg was the dream of Peter the Great and the dream is out of hand. It paralyzed the whole of Russia to build their palaces on a swamp, channels, museums, his boundless ego.
Three centuries later, we reach the avenues to board a 4X4, with the same pulse of Stendal, the same impact without reservation to the beauty of the country's second city.
The mist of the river Neva seemed eternal, as the flames lit in memory of the dead from their wars, there are many dead to remember them all. St. Petersburg is like Venice canals and palaces such as Versailles but pale is the gesture of the people who told us her true story. It struck me that the Russians suffered something of a historical sadness, with so much blood, so cold and so much forgetfulness accumulated in centuries. Therefore, the solemn stroll the streets of this city I caught his nostalgia. But if even the sad eyes have matrioskas!
We stayed in a decadent, decorated with the taste of our grandmothers, with high ceilings such as the palaces and the peeling façade longing times more lustrous. I was seduced by the charm of the quiet night, dim lights and paved streets.
That was my first impression. The next morning, discovered the car windows broken and hollow wires poking radio. Theft dispelled any sense of melancholy and brought us back to another reality of St. Petersburg, of a major European city, with its bustle of people, its trendy shops, bars and rowdy.
It struck me that the Russians suffered something of a historical sadness, with so much blood, so cold and so much forgetfulness accumulated in centuries. Therefore, the solemn stroll the streets of this city I caught his nostalgia
When we took the camera crew, the spell of the city disappeared completely. The police watched us burn almost anything preventing us, distances became intolerable, prices of taxis abusive and made to seem overcast eternal mist into a nightmare for our documentary. José Luis, the producer of the equipment, he managed as he could to reach agreement with the workshop of the day and repair the broken glass of the car. As, Alfonso and I went on pilgrimage to a shrine to another city. So we get to steal some pictures from the Hermitage, the Fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul or the church of Christ in the Blood, that looks like a candy cake.
We decided to go over 40 kilometers to reach the village of Real. Giving away the security guards to point to the palace of Santa Catalina and the gardens where Peter the Great felt even bigger.
That's when a battalion of soldiers from the nineteenth century progressed shooting everywhere. Alfonso and I looked confused until we realized that we'd just sneak in a scene from a movie that was filming in that place.
It started to rain and picked up the camera equipment. I felt ashamed. Not so much for ruining an epic sequence, as for having urgently traveled a city that deserved much more respect. We had not even given ourselves a while to enter the Hermitage, one of the most magnificent museums in the world. Sometimes, so much we forgot to record wonders palpated, to enjoy them with your eyes.
That night, the three left the hotel looking for some escape, so here is still the vodka. And then we understood that beyond the charm carved in stone, beauty in this city has been installed on their wives. We drank the night in a concert with long legs and eyes, with a smile and overflowing with so much magic. And so desanduvimos the way to the hotel, drunk and confused, unfinished to feel either of these other wonders, walking over bridges and lighthouses tale of another time, like a strange dream, understood that not just.
Maybe that's St. Petersburg, a city that does not fit all. Is disproportionate, perhaps too beautiful for its history, perhaps too cold for their wives, or maybe it was just too Russian for us.
I finally reconciled with that first impression. The dream of a city, with idyllic walks and isolated spots. But St. Petersburg is to leave the car (in a good parking, yes), keep the cameras and remove watches. Only then can enjoy that majestic sadness.
