I've always wondered why people always respond so enlightened about Peter saying that it has such an atmosphere, everybody is so creative and intellectual, they don’t even swear and refer to each other only in the best traditions of Russian nobility.
I remember my first trip to St Petersburg while I was still in school. But then the whole city for me narrowed to the motorcyclists zipping through the wide streets. Who needs palaces and cathedrals when there are sweeping by roaring iron horse with sitting on them mysterious riders hidden by the reflections of colonnades on their helmets. At those times bikers were rare things in Minsk and here almost entire herds of them are passing by in a broad daylight.
But despite my discrimination of those majestic buildings probably in all the existing classicism styles yet something was printed on the edge of consciousness and during the second visit was recognized. That dazzling golden top of the mountain overlooking the city — St Isaac's Cathedral. That merry yellow giant protectively hugging the empty Palace Square — the General Staff building. Opposite there is gentle, refined and elegant like Catherine herself the Winter Palace — delicious Baroque cake.
Another this time multilegged Empire style giant — Kazan Cathedral — a huge forest of stone pillars that are like a claw are about to closed up.
Here at the end of the azure channel one can see motley and bright like Pavloposadskie scarf the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood. In the far the sky is ripped by the spire of The Peter and Paul Fortress. Near it there is monstrous monument of Peter 1st — disproportionate bronze being very well pictured in the schoolchild’s memory. It’s difficult to imagine in what anguish this masterpiece was created.
Taking a walk among wide avenues, permeated by arteries and capillaries of the Neva river it’s hard not to admire the play of architecture from strictly classical to the majestic Empire with splashes of pastel Baroque and Art Nouveau asymmetric. And there is its special charm in the the waterfront penetrated with cold wind and contrast of small colored houses in comparison with the wide body of the Neva cutted by the Spit of Vasilyevsky Island. But I could not catch the famous St. Petersburg feel of the cultural and creative atmosphere. Of course in comparison to the main capital technocratic, pragmatic and bustling Moscow Peter can be felt like a bunch of bohemians and artists. Or maybe just every city needs it’s own little myth that will excite the hearts of travelers and lead they through its concrete mazes.
Have a good day, MarrySav!)
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