A Summer Souvenir

Has autumn arrived with you yet? Has it brought a cool crispness to the air? Have you pulled your jacket a little tighter around you? Let me warm you, then, with this summer souvenir.

I will pick up where I left off in Poland – and go straight to Lithuania. Its capital city was cool, peaceful, clean. The streets wandered aimlessly, and I followed, savouring the quiet that surrounded me, the space. It was Sunday evening and there were few people around – some teens on skateboards in the square; some children playing with their parents; some couples going for an evening stroll – but the sound was muted by the space and light in between and it felt as if I was in a city where time had paused for the briefest of moments.

The pace picked up in Riga, and I picked up friends. We travelled through one hundred years of Latvia’s turbulent independence, and emerged thoughtful and blinking from the darkness of the museum, whose very labyrinthine structure told a story of the struggle to save Jews during the Holocaust. Another museum spoke insightfully of the oppression of the Soviet regime. The art in the national gallery spanned centuries and dimensions, and we waved to art-lovers beneath us through a glass floor and gazed across the city from the roof. There was an Orthodox church, too, with its own striking artwork; and a charming Old Town. Pelmeni sustained us, The Incredibles entertained us.

Riga couldn’t contain us, however. Off to Jurmala for a day, where a long, long beach stretched into ominously dark clouds. The beach grew shorter and emptier as the rain drew nearer – until we were clothed in water. Who can distinguish rain-drenched garments from the Baltic sea, anyway?

Next stop: Tallinn, Estonia. Mari-Liis welcomed us warmly by inviting us to her birthday celebration. After a barbecue, we watched the sun set across the Baltic, before returning to enjoy her sauna and steam room. We joined her at church where she leant across to whisper: ‘Christians are cool in Estonia.’ Looking around, I was not surprised.

Our final destination in Tallinn was an unusual choice: Linnahall, the former Lenin Palace of Culture and Sport. Don’t let its grand title deceive you, however. Linnahall is a concrete labyrinth of staircases. The sort of place where nature is reclaiming the empty space. Grey sky, grey sea, grey surface beneath my feet. Ugly, yes: a testament to the ugliness that man is capable of bringing into being. Its creation had something to do with the Moscow Olympics. And yet, and yet – there was something to that place, the tenacity of man, the tenacity of nature.

And finally – St Petersburg! It’s not often that I visit a city more than once, let alone three times. Altogether I have spent barely three months there, and yet I know it better than any other city.

Issy was beaming when she met us at the bus stop. The engagement ring on her finger caught the sun and beamed at us too. She ushered us into a taxi and delighted the driver with her knowledge of Russian, football and of Russian football.

Oh, the view from the flat! Can you see the great Neva below, glittering in the northern sun? Can you see the majestic buildings lining its banks, the boats cruising between them?

The next day, we donned our sightseeing shoes: here is the Church on the Spilled Blood, here is the Hermitage. Yes, I have been before – but I could go one hundred times and still not see everything. Yelagin Island was new for me, too, and it added another dimension to the city: the entire island was a park. Trees and lakes; a view to the Baltic; a café that caught the sun and cradled it.

Issy’s wedding was a wonderful celebration of God, love and a union of British and Russian culture. ‘Горько!’ we chanted as the young couple arrived at the reception (it means ‘bitter’) – and they duly kissed to dispel all bitterness.

Beautiful city, beautiful people! If you think the city is a little shabby, you need only get to know the local people and your heart will warm to them and to their city, as if it were, indeed, summer.