The real St. Petersburg

On the second to last day in St. Petersburg a group of us decided to check out a weekend flea market. I knew it would be an adventure when I asked Julia, the local librarian who took us around the first day about it and she replied, “I don’t know of any flea markets in the city. The only one I can think of is far and you wouldn’t want to go all the way out there.”

She was right about the distance, but it was a chance to see what we have since fondly referred to as “the real St. Petersburg.”

It also gave me the chance to see the St. Petersburg subways, which are reported to be some of the nicest subways in the world. I’ve seen pictures of stations on the red line with crystal ceilings and gilded walls.

On the two lines we used to get to the flea market, we didn’t see crystal ceilings, but the trains and stations were extremely clean and efficient. They are most definitely  the deepest stations I’ve even been in. The escalators down in St. Petersburg went down for miles and miles. Far deeper than the DC metro stations.

After about a 20 minute subway ride (and one transfer) we came to the suburbs of St. Petersburg. The “real St. Petersburg.”

Where the ship docked in St. Petersburg in a wonderful location-very close to the historic district, which is the tourist district. There, everything is international, metropolitan, and most people speak English. Finding Chinese, Spanish, and Italian food was very easy here, but finding traditional Russian food was actually a challenge.

On the outskirts of St. Petersburg no one readily spoke English and while the streets were still fairly clean, no one was trying to impress the tourists. My friends instructions to the flea market read, “Get off subway, follow people across the train tracks.” This we did and discovered rows and rows of stuff (in some cases junk) for sale--mounds of clothes on tables, random selections of USSR memorabilia, and a plethora of materials you could use to fix up your house.

 My favorites were a box of rusty nails for sale and the table of old sewing machines. Apparently I missed the stuff

Next to the flea market was a small farmers market which I thoroughly enjoyed walking through.

My of the farmers were selling tiny berries that came in red, yellow, and blue. When I asked one of the sellers what they were for, she put her hand across her forehead and mimed fainting, then rubbed her hand on her belly as if she had a stomach ache. I had to buy some. I would love to report that these berries were amazing, but instead they were really sour. Kind of like a cranberry, but more tart. So either these berries which I have translated as “forest berries,” or “cow berries” either help with headaches and stomach aches or they cause them. I’m not sure. Either way, it was a real experience.