Day Two in St. Petersberg

The University Embankment

In St. Petersburg, lunch at the Last Palace on Monday was eclipsed on the second day with lunch at a new restaurant, one our Russian guide Margarita had never visited before.  

Wyona slipped over to some other tables to get the six forks that were missing at our table.  

That took care of the problem of having no utensils. There was no oil and vinegar for the salad.  We ate it as it was. 

The soup was a simple peasant soup, a texture that our friends didn’t like, the onions, carrots and potatoes grounded so finely that they were like sand and the dominant flavour was pepper as far as spices go. 

The Rostral Columns

I was interested in the soup, since it is like many soups I have eaten in the past – a cupful will help you last from lunch to supper with no hunger pangs, along with a piece of bread. 

On board ship, I have been passing on the bread tray every night, but at lunch I wanted to try a piece of this dense square loaf:  rye and whole wheat, and the vinegar under taste might have been from this being a sour dough loaf. 

Our table didn’t even get the main course when, so when the larger group was packing up to leave we still hadn’t had the fish and rice with a few boiled vegetables in it, nor the fruit cocktail that was served as dessert and that had come right out of a tin.  We did get the shot glass of vodka and the champagne that came with the meal.

Now all of that to tell you about getting back on the bus.  The tourists were not happy.  The members from our group from India who had caused a lot of trouble the day before had been now been ushered to a different place in the restaurant than the rest of us and given, by the Indian owner, a different (and more desirable) meal.

Bitter complaining broke out to the tour leader.  “My plate was chipped … my glass was dirty .. I am sure my goblet had not been washed … why did the Indians get a different meal … we had no dressing on the salad … we didn’t get served at all … I am so mad about this, I am going to complain… the service was so poor, … the waitresses just stood there looking at us” and on and on.  As their chagrin poured out, one complaint was fueled by another.

St. Isaac's Cathedral

Finally the tour leader said in her cross “I-am- laying-down-the-law” guide voice, “Look, this is a brand new restaurant.  The owner is probably is not going to succeed.  He will be taxed so highly that he will not make any profit.  What is a chipped glass to you or a cup that has to be wiped out?  You have a standard of living that is 10 times higher than these people.  Look around you on this trip. And don’t complain.”

There was a quiet silence.  


I took her advice and continued to look carefully at what I was seeing around me.


Arta