Peterhof

(you can see a rainbow in that one if you look closely)


Saturday (last Saturday, yes I am very behind)we went to Peterhof, basically the Versailles of Russia. We had to wake up pretty early in order to meet in front of the Hermitage, where we were taking a boat to the island. I had high expectations for the trip—dreaming of the water, a boat trip, nature, etc. The boat trip was a bit of a disappointment, seeing as we were sucking down the fuming black exhaust from the boat while waiting to board, and then we were stuck inside on the way to the island. It was more like a bus on water than a boat. The Gulf of Finland wasn’t that great either. Anya, (a Russian girl who came on the trip with us and who goes to school in Boston, but lived in Russia till she was 13) told me that the Finnish gulf is not very salty or very deep. There were pretty much no waves and it looked like a big still lake. People were floating out into the gulf in little blow up boats and dinghies—way farther than you would even consider going in Maine. We had a nice view of some Soviet block housing from the boat, whose beach was littered with industrial debris. Lovely. The air wasn’t like the ocean air I had expected either. Regardless, it was nice to be out of the city, see open water (after feeling cooped up in the city), and for the air not to be so polluted.

Me at Peterhof:


Professor Doronchenkov and his wife and 4 year old daughter came with us. We also had a tour guide, the one who had showed us around some the first week we were here. I was not as enthralled with Peterhof as I had expected to be. That could be due to several factors that have less to do with Peterhof itself, however. We were not able too see much of the palace nor the grounds because of Putin and a German delegate (G8 conference coming up). We waited an hour and half outside the palace in horrific heat only to be allowed to see a dozen or so rooms. Grr. I found it maybe a little amusing that we were being kicked out so that Putin and the German delegate could lunch in the very place the Germans had helped to destroy. (Stalin had destroyed much of it upon hearing that Hitler planned on partying there after conquering Russia, and then the Germans occupied it and destroyed it even more.)

Part of the fountain:

Chapel:


Our first views of Peterhof were of the gardens and the canal that flows out to the sea from the fountains. The grounds reminded me of parks I’d seen in Paris. There were many many tourists and the prices for things like water were outrageous (normally between 15-20 rubles jacked to 45 and in one place 95). We made our way to the impressive grand cascade, which was quite the sight in all its golden glory. Rather than describing how decadent it was here are some pictures.

The middle dude is Samson and the lion he is struggling with represents Sweden—whom the Russians beat (but I’ll not bore you with the history of Peterhof and who built which part).


Random fountain statue:


Part of the stairs:


Then came line standing, during which I got to know the outside wall of the palace very well. If you don’t know, Russians really like standing in lines—yay for Soviet Russia. There was a joke in the Soviet Union that one day a man was reading a newspaper and came across something interesting, so he stopped to read it, and people then began to line up behind him. I guess the notion is if there’s a line, you must be waiting for something good or some kind of hand out. But yes, there are lines everywhere here, in front of pharmacies, embassies, museums, for many things that do not require a line. It’s kind of ridiculous and I’m extremely impatient.

So I wasn’t in the best mood when we finally started moving a few feet at a time, seeing as I was being bombarded by swarms of Russian and other foreign tourists (I’ve learned to become rude and pushy now thanks to Russia, I’m not sure how I’ll ever be a civilized human being again once I return home), and then there was being subjected to a dreadful trio of musicians who were sweating through their white wigs and period jackets. By that point I was thinking less about the splendor of the place and more about the prospect of sliding down the fountain in an inner tube.

Unfortunately, after we finally entered Peterhof, changed into the black elf slippers (to protect the floors, apparently), and began to walk through the few rooms we were allowed to see, I became even less impressed.



After visiting quite a number of churches, the synagogue, and the hermitage, I was simply not impressed by the near ridiculous opulence of the palace (excepting Peter’s study that I found to be lovely). It was somehow not the kind of “tasteful” opulence you see in some palaces or mansions. But then again, Peterhof was partially built to “wow” foreigners and convince them of Russia’s greatness. Perhaps the architects simply tried too hard in this one palace to compensate for whatever they believed the rest of Russia lacked in luxury, civility, and manicured beauty. The fact that the palace and gardens encompass rooms and fountains and smaller gardens devoted to a particular style from a particular civilization (Roman, British, French, Asian, etc.) made it seem as if the creators of this place wanted Peterhof to be some kind of microcosm of all great civilizations. Perhaps such a design served to act as a lubricant for diplomacy (by showing an appreciation for other cultures), or it was an attempt to show that Russia’s culture is at home and on par with European culture, or maybe the whole place partially exposes the Russian inferiority complex in her attempt to appear more European.



Professor Dorontchenkov compared Peterhof to a kind of Disneyland for aristocrats (the lines, tourists, and overpricing of everything also added to such a sentiment), and it seemed like this Disneyland also had a classy version of Epcot. The countless silly trick fountains and the outlandishness of some of the things we saw (e.g. the checkerboard fountain) made me feel as if I was in a cross between Disneyland, a water park, a surrealist painting and Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. The whole place felt so unreal that I almost expected that if I peeled off the gold from the statues I’d find chocolate underneath, or if I only waited a few more minutes a trick fountain would pour fourth a river of nectar.



What made Peterhof (the palace especially) lose some its charm for me was the fact that it was basically a replica of what it once was. The knowledge that this very floor or that very chair are originals allows them to act as certificates of presence (to borrow a Sontag phrase there) and imbues the objects with a certain kind of meaning that is lost with restorations. I felt as if I was just walking through a giant model palace, or a beautiful dollhouse where I couldn’t touch anything--where alarms go off if I bump a rope, and where doors are covered in plexi-glass. The whole island being strewn with tourists only added to the difficulty of imagining the place as it used to be--despite the restorators clear skill at their art.

Unfortunately, even the gardens and forest felt phony to me—too manicured in some places and even the “wild” patches of forest looked as if some Romantic painter had walked through and pointed out to an arborist the most aesthetically pleasing location to plant each tree, shrub, and clod of grass. (But my being from Maine probably has colored a bit too strongly what I see as beautiful in nature.)





There were only a few moments where I was able to imagine courtiers and nobles and tsars enjoying these grounds or strolling between rooms or enjoying the peacefulness this place has the potential to offer. These moments were often while observing incidental views of the grounds, or when I was able to ignore the shutter clicks of cameras around me when staring out to the Gulf of Finland across the Marine Canal.



Seeing the inner workings of the fountains was interesting though, because beneath the grounds there were originals from the palace and fountains.

The fountains are crazy, having a hydraulic system of 50km of pipes, 22 locks, 18 lakes, and discharging 10000 cubic meters of water every day during the summer. They’d have little children no more than 7 years old crawl through these pipes to clean them.
Pipes:

The underground felt like catacombs and were actually more interesting to me than the fountains.



The trick fountains that were randomly placed all over were really funny and showed a different side to Peter the great…rather childish humor. For example some of the trick fountains would rain on you if you sat on a certain bench, picked up a piece of fruit on a table, walked on the wrong part of gravel, or this large fountain that looks like just a part of the walkway that goes off at certain times of the day. It’s impossible to tell it’s there since it squirts from the sides arcing into the sidewalk. Professor Dorontchenkov made sure to get us soaked there. There are also umbrella and tree fountains that rain on you when you walk under them. There was also the Adam and Eve fountains, and this neat rotating fountain.

Professor Doronchenkov’s daughter was having a great time. It’s enjoyable to be around children here, for they all seem to speak the same language regardless of language and nationality—the same whining tones, crying, and screams of joy. Very sweet.



Peterhof was also a party place for his friends and guests. You may have heard about Peter’s Great Eagle Cup that could hold 1.25 liters of fortified wine—which had to be drained by whomever broke one of Peter’s rules. Crazy. I actually preferred Monplaisir over the grand palace—it was more modest and fitting. Peter was not into all the opulence of say Elizabeth, who is basically responsible for the grand palace. Peter liked smaller, preferably one-story buildings inspired by Dutch architecture. We weren’t able to see much of it since it was under restoration (like everything else in Petersburg it seems).

Random garden vase:


Despite whatever misgivings I have about Peterhof and its “phoniness” (both from restoration and the nature of its intentional creation), I was nevertheless impressed with the will power it took to create this fantastic work of civilization: the hydraulic feat of the fountains, the opulence of the palace, and the subtle (and at times not so subtle) construction of nature’s beauty. It was both disappointing and awe inspiring to realize that Peterhof was literally crafted and groomed from a marshy treeless moor, into what is supposed to look like lush nature. The conquest of nature (as it was) to look “natural” seemed like something Peter as master carpenter of Russia would do: to create in the most inconvenient location by the sheer power of human will.