St Petersburg reveals the real Russia, with love
Do Russians ever smile? Spending time in the country reveals the answer to this and other mysteries.
“Tell me, what have you heard about Russians? What do people in your country say about us?” An hour into our walking tour of St Petersburg, I’m not expecting such questions from our guide, Alina.
And then, a statement. “Russians don’t smile much.” I’m not about to elaborate on everything I’d heard when I told friends I was going to Russia.
Alina continues, “It’s hard for us. In winter the sun only comes up from 10.30am to 3pm. Why would we smile? Depression is a big problem. Sometimes you don’t want to go outside.” Being late spring, I am struggling with the 11pm sunset and 3.30am sunrise and try to imagine living with such extremes.
When she was born, Alina’s family lived in a communal five-bedroom apartment with one kitchen and bathroom. Four other families lived there too. Soviet times had not been all bad, however; she thought much had been achieved. Vladimir Putin? “He is a strong leader and what Russia always needs is a strong leader.”
Alina is 30 and loves to travel. She keeps her restaurant visits a secret from her parents, who disapprove of the new extravagance of eating out. She hopes to visit Australia but doesn’t expect to be granted a tourist visa. She’s heard the authorities would suspect someone her age would try to remain in Australia but it’s hard to imagine her ever abandoning her beloved St Petersburg.
It took me many hours to complete my clunky online visa application, listing the countries I’d visited in the past 10 years, employment history, my mother’s maiden name and educational institutions from almost 40 years ago with street addresses and phone numbers. Making changes to the form meant having to redo entire sections. No matter how many times I declared I had never been denied a Russian visa, a pop-up insisted otherwise.
The visa process adds to the mystery that is Russia, and would be enough to deter many. I keep wondering why they clutter up their data with old, and odd, information. Is this just a hang-over from Soviet-era bureaucracy?
After a week, a picture starts to form. It’s true, Russians don’t smile much, but some are very kind. One woman offers to pay for my bus tickets when I don’t have small change. She says she has lived in the US and appreciated the kindness shown her as a foreigner. A ticket seller in peak hour explains the weekly metro pass with great care patience.
Even so, Russia is still a mystery to me. I’d love to find out more.
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