“A white night is when the sun leaves the sky for barely a couple of hours—a phenomenon quite familiar in the northern latitudes. It’s the most magic time in the city, when you can write or read without a lamp at two o’clock in the morning, and when the buildings, deprived of shadows and their roofs rimmed with gold, look like a set of fragile china. It’s so quiet around that you can almost hear the clink of a spoon falling in Finland. The transparent pink tint of the sky is so light that the pale-blue watercolor of the river almost fails to reflect it. And the bridges are drawn up as though the islands of the delta have unclasped their hands and slowly begun to drift, turning in the mainstream, toward the Baltic. On such nights, it’s hard to fall asleep, because it’s too light and because any dreams will be inferior to this reality. Where a man doesn’t cast a shadow, like water.”
-Brodsky



White Nights in Petersburg are slowly getting darker, but at least I got another chance to be out all night and enjoy them Russian style. Saturday evening was full of surprises—seeing as I didn’t understand my host mom well enough to realize we’d be out all night and be doing so many things. First we went to the philharmonic (something I did understand), where we met up with a couple they’re friends with—Vladimir and Irina. Irina was very nice and extremely funny, and I felt like I was all of a sudden one of the group. It was interesting to see my host parents in a more social situation, laughing, making jokes, and having fun. (As a warning, you may want to increase the brightness of your screen, since some of the pics are a little dark.)



The concert was pretty good, but a bit random. It seemed like many of the performances were a kind of coming out performance for students graduating from the Petersburg Conservatory. For the most part, they were all excellent. Organ, harp, accordion (no I’m not kidding), a small orchestra, an amazing young soprano who sang Strauss and then for an encore Mozart’s Queen of the Night (rivals Kathleen Battle’s I heard in Toronto), then this absolutely incredible quartet made up of Russian folk instruments. They were so good—I have to find out where to buy a CD. The concert ended well after midnight, and next thing I knew we were walking along the Moika, among the many other Russians who also decided to stay out all night. I don’t know if it was some kind of deal for the evening, or included in the concert tickets, or if it was because I was with Russians and everything is cheap and discounted for them, but all of a sudden I’m on a boat (free of charge), wrapped in the scarves of Irina, who thought I was freezing to death (the night was a little chilly, but very pleasant). Eena, Irina and I huddled up. Eena is on the far right next to me, then Irina and Vladimir.



The boat trip was wonderful, and a very different atmosphere from the one with my fellow students. It started at 1am and finished sometime after 2:30. White nights are so beautiful and strange here, and are very disorienting to the senses—when the sun refuses to take its natural course (as well as the human sleep cycle, apparently). Here sunrise and sunset seem to be one and the same, where the sun seems to simply glide along the horizon from west to east, making the horizon blush pink at this solar transgression. The Neva takes on a more romantic pallor from its usual greenish brown hue, and everything is gentle and sparkling lit up against the “night” sky.

The lamps in the Rostral columns were lit as well, which was a fantastic sight. We were able to see the bridges open (they’re on a specific schedule, when they open every night for a few hours to let large boats through, hence the dilemma of getting stuck on the wrong island all night). Before they open you can see people running across them and waving to the boats below and the crowds of people gathered along the embankment. This event is really exciting for Petersburgers, for as the backs of the bridges began to crack apart and open, everyone on the boats cheered wildly. It’s a pretty amazing sight, seeing as the bridges are enormous. It’s bizarre to see what was just a road, sidewalks, street lamps, etc. at a 90-degree angle, like something out of a dream of nightmare. It’s an unsettling, unreal, and yet lovely sight.



We saw several bridges open, as they open sequentially (or so it seemed). We’d wait in front of one and after it opened, pass through to another, and then another. It was incredible to pass beneath them as their colossal limbs stretched open, as if in monstrous salute to the wan night. It was fun to watch fireworks over the Neva as well. I took a short video of it, but am not sure how to post it.

This was a couple that was sitting a little in front of us. It was sweet to see them all cuddled up in blankets and enjoying how romantic white nights can be.



After the boat we walked around some more and then went to St Isaac’s Cathedral, this huge Italian looking cathedral that is very visible on the Petersburg skyline, if you’ve ever been here. The sky was already getting lighter rather than darker at 2:30am. Crazy stuff. The Hermitage was all lit at night, which was a very different perspective from having just seen it during the day.



St Isaac’s was beautiful, and also somehow free for us. The staircase was really cool. I think Vladimir said we climbed 267 steps, or something like that (he knew numbers in English, and to show that off he counted many of the stairs we climbed). The staircase got narrower and narrower the farther we went up, and it wasn’t easy in heels either.

This picture is from that staircase of part of the side of the cathedral.



If you’re scared of heights, the final staircase up to the top is a little frightening—it’s very exposed and open to the elements, but you can see the whole city and much of the cathedral, whose center was glowing like a gigantic lantern against the blue of the sky.




We walked around the top and watched the dawn rise over the glittering city. We could look down from above (somewhat) into the candlelit church, which was gorgeous (I need to return sometime for sure). There were a lot of couples kissing up there, and no tourists. I felt like an honorary Russian for a few minutes. We left around 4am and headed back down.

We walked some more and then picked up a gypsy cab, which all five of us piled into (and Russian cars are not big). Eena, Joseph, and I got dropped off at the end of Tverskaya and we walked the rest of the way back. There was a pretty bridge that was opened up there, and I got to see the Smolniy all lit up at night too. We finally got home around 4:30. I was completely exhausted, for I had not expected such a long evening, and did not think my host parents would ever stay out all night in the city. That’s what white nights do to you I guess.