We had breakfast in the hotel, but not too early. Nothing was truly interesting about it though, except that Pamela got to use her wide Russian Vocabulary. She did have one... which consisted of exactly two words; "Butter", and "Bread." But... as it turned out, these were exactly the two words which she needed! There was no butter left, for her to put on her bread! So, she got to feel very clever asking for some. (Isn't it just lovely the way it worked out?) After breakfast, we started our last day in Petersburg... by going to the exchange place, (because we had nearly no Roubles left at all.)

Then, we concluded the long discussion we'd been having, about what to do; We'd decided on going either to the museum of natural history, (Animals, and skeletons galore,) or the museum of musical instruments. The thing was, I was more interested in the natural history, and Pamela was... Less interested in it. And we both were then determined to give way, and let the other one decide which was better. (Oh dear.) I was the first one to give in and let Pamela have her way, by giving in to me. (Does that make sense?) So, we went to the Natural History Museum.

Which we discovered was closed that day.

Alright. So, we then carried on, towards the center of town, (as the Musical Instrument museum was on the other side of the center.) The one other thing we'd planned to do, you see, is go to the shops, (endless shops,) on Nevsky prospect. (Prospect meaning street, OK?) Walking to the shops, we read some of the little cultural signs which were posted by the road; "In this house was the embassy of ...","Here lived the writer ...", "Here was the giant, international trading company of the 19th century..." and so on. Then we got to the shopping house. I can't think of any place like it in the West. It's a shopping mall... yes. But, it had more the feeling of a market. Or... well. Yes. It was a two story building, with many, many shops in it, like a shopping mall. But, none of the shops were BIG. They were all... small. None bigger than a fair-sized bed-room. -And there were many which were truly "stalls," which consisted of only one counter and the wall space behind it. So... imagine a shopping mall, where each store was shrunken down to under a quarter of it's size. And then... the ones that WERE rooms, had people walking through them, because it was more just a matter of having counters on both sides of the hallway. So, to pass through the "mall," one had to walk through every shop on that hallway. Clear?

After nearly an hour there, I thought that Pamela might find it strange that my heart wasn't in it, and that I hadn't been interested in buying anything. So, I explained to her, that I've never enjoyed shopping, especially not the decisions that are inherent to it. So, although I was fine being there, and found it interesting to look at things, she shouldn't be waiting for me to take charge, and pick out some nice things to buy. That just wasn't going to happen.

Then, she made a similar confession to me. It seems that neither one of us was enthusiastic about buying anything in that place. So... if we didn't like shopping, what were we doing in this huge shopping house, I had to wonder. It seemed too silly for words to me. So, I made a Momentous Decision; I was going to buy something. (And thereby, validate our afternoon.) But what? Well, I've been slowly going over my wardrobe, and filling in all the vacant articles, that I think are nice. (This is a HUGE change for me. My three years in Montreal, I bought for myself ONE shirt, -because I had a gift certificate. My three years in Estonia, I might have bought two pairs of pants, and a couple of shirts too. Perhaps even a tee-shirt.) Well, I felt that I could use a long-sleeved shirt, something dressy, but conservative, and I thought that I'd get a Tie too. It's largely the influence of being with Pamela which has changed my dressing habits; When we go out, (to the theater, or cultural or social events,) she is always so very stunningly beautiful, (she always is, you see, in my eyes,) and I feel severely underdressed, beside her radiance. So, I've actually been seen here and there, now and then, wearing buttoned shirts, and a Tie. But... I've only ever owned three ties in my life, (including the ugly green one I had for the school uniform in Toronto.) So, I'd decided that I would also get a new tie. "Sure," I thought, "I don't know if I'll ever be in Petersburg again, and the prices are rather good here, and it would be a special souvenir, which I'll be wearing for years..." So, I explained to Pamela that, come hell or high water, I was going to force myself to make a decision, and get a shirt and tie. (Even if it killed me.)

And so, the arduous process of selection began.

In the first two or three men's clothing stores, I might have picked out one or two shirts in each, which I thought were very possible. BUT... Pamela vetoed each one. She was dismayed at their dullness, or the way the colours made me look ill. And we carried on. We got to Two large shops, which specialized in men's dress shirts. And I looked through every one they had. Pamela did too. And the ones I picked out, she didn't like. The ones she thought would go good on me, I was shocked by. (Well, not utterly shocked but... still shocked. Not at her, but at the thought of me wearing them. Me? In stripes? Or in Bold colours? How???) And still, all that I chose, seemed so wrong to Pamela because they were in grey, brown, and all the most muted, depressing, dirty colours I could find. (I personally find them muted, conservative, and respectable. Refined even. But Stripes? Check patterns with bold colours? That's next to anarchy, isn't it?) So, on and on the search went, looking for something we could agree on.

In the end, we found, (at a single-counter place,) a plain, black shirt. Exasperated, I asked Pamela if that would suit me. "Well... it could." ALRIGHT! We both felt that it might be good, some day, to have a neutral, black shirt. And I didn't have one before. So, we bought it. We actually spent money there! We had been, had been, SHOPPING!

"Now then," I thought, "We're on a roll! Let's get that Tie, and get out of here!"

Not so simple. At all the places we'd been to so far, we had the same disagreements about ties as we had about the shirts. My taste seemed to "dull and in love with muddy colours," and her suggestions were "radical, and not subdued enough." I mean, really; Pin-stripes!!! Such a bold statement!

After another ten or fifteen minutes though, I'd had enough, and thought that buying a shirt had, indeed, been enough madness for my day. So, we left that huge house of shops, and went in search of lunch. Yes. Lunch. Do you remember the "Pelmeni Hunt" that I've spoken of, in the last days? Well, that's still what I most would have liked to find. At last find. I couldn't find it though. In my hunt however, we found ourselves beside the Grishko shop. Grishko is an internationally known maker of ballet shoes. (And, like all ballet shoe makers, they at some point started making ballet clothes as well.) Well, it's a Russian company, and there I was in St. Petersburg, so we just had to go in, and get something nice.

Hmmm... This seems to reveal a split in my personality, doesn't it? A rather severe split? In public... in normal, everyday things, I agonize without end over decisions. Buying a pair of pants? That's a commitment, which requires a few hours thought, after I've spent Days thinking about if I really need them. But Dance things? Well, SURE! You can Never have too much dance-ware! The more pairs of tights, the better! Mad, rambunctious colours? No problem! They'll be fun! It's always interesting to get some sort of reaction from my colleagues and teachers!

I am making a joke of it right now, but what I'm saying is utterly true. I am tending absolutely towards ultra-conservative, Statementless street clothes. And at the same time, enjoy bright colours in the ballet studio. When I bought material in Estonia, to make warm-up pants out of, it was bright, pumpkin orange. And I'd then wear these, with the Canary Yellow Tee-shirt that I had. It was the brightest, loudest clothing that had been in the studio for quite some time, (which wasn't a costume for the stage, that is.) And I thought it great fun to wear it. But on the street? Never! I couldn't draw attention to myself like that!

Anyhow... I think I was saying something about being in Grishko, going once through the racks, and finding nothing that really suited me, (alas, it was all girl's dance-wear.) There were a couple of tee-shirts however, which were alright, and I picked one of them, (With no mind-racking deliberations,) and bought that. Then we were on the street again, looking, if not for Pelmeni, then at least for some nice lunch.

What we found, was a nice, medium sized, and VERY BUSY restaurant, where all the food was at a huge buffet. No, it was more like a canteen. They would also whip up for you crêpes, fried things, or dish out soup. But, the point was, that you walked along the line up, and told the people there what they should put on your plate. Then at the end of the line, the prices are tallied up, and you pay. My explanation sounds... Lame. It sounds stupid. It sounds like a school cafeteria. But this place... just felt... interesting. Innovative. But I can't tell how, or why. It was good, and good food, and decently priced, and there were just HORDES of people there, (they could also have take-out, which is why there was still a free table for us to sit at; Most of the people left as soon as they had their lunch in their hands.) It was filling, it was good, and then we saw that we had not really any time left to do anything else; It was time to go back to the hotel, and get our luggage.

We took the subway, (which took us a little time to find, at first,) and then battled our way through the crowds. There's a small market set up just outside the subway station near the hotel, and then a large, busy street, that we walk along to get to the hotel. And these were both Full of people. We were always walking just behind tight clumps of people, just waiting for them to spread apart enough that we could dart through them, and move faster. We weren't in a BIG rush, but we wanted to be certain we got to the bus on time. Planning for the worst, I mean. (We had Two subway changes to make between the hotel and the bus station, so if it was as much as 15 minutes at each one, then our time would be very VERY tight.)

After getting our luggage from the hotel, we had to shuffle our way back through the crowds to the Subway station. We didn't at this time have any food we could eat on the bus ride, (which would be taking over six hours.) So, when I saw a small food-shop right beside the hotel, I thought it would be the best place to get something. Then, I thought of a better plan: I'd go slowly lumbering ahead with the suitcase, while Pamela got some things from the shop. Then she could catch up with me, which would be easy, as she could actually dodge people, whereas I could not. Pamela was not wild about the idea, but I urged her to it, and she accepted my proposal. So, I gave her all my money, and off I went.

I got to the market in front of the station... and still no sign of Pamela, I waited five minutes, and still no sign of Pamela, I waited, struggling with my panic, another five minutes... still no sign. I was terrified. I was considering leaving my suitcase with some old lady at a fruit stall who surely wouldn't speak a word of English, and running back to see what had become of her. My mind was dreaming up wilder, and wilder tragedies about what might have kept her. The extreme I got to, was that there was some mis-understanding in the shop. The police were there. Pamela couldn't speak a word of Russian, (well, except for Bread, and Butter,) That they were mistreating her... And then I realized that both our passports were with me. So she wouldn't even have identification with her! I felt like I was going to be sick. I hated myself, HATED, for abandoning her. In Russia. With only enough money for a little food. And no Passport. The Self-recrimination was too much to bare.

And, at last, when I felt at my wit's end, There was Pamela's worried face, bobbing through the crowd on the street. I think I might have wept, when at last I caught her into my arms. She was SAFE! It was OK!!! Still, Pamela reminded me, we didn't have much in the way of extra time. So, we went into the subway. On the trip then, she explained that she was Ok. "Yes, Really. Yes, I'm fine. No, I don't hate you. Yes, it's ok. It's alright. Don't worry about it." It was just a crowded shop. And then, inside, she found out that she couldn't pay for it all together. She picked up a loaf of bread, and started towards the cheeses, when the Lady said... Whatever she said, meaning "You've got to Pay for that!" And then at the deli section, she just pointed at what she wanted, and put the money on the counter, (when you don't know the names of the numbers, and you're unfamiliar with the currency anyhow, that could be the best way.) Then the lady went through the procedure of cutting one slice off of it, weighing it, and then calculating exactly how many slices she should do. And all that time, Pamela is worrying about me, and about being late. (OH! The poor, dear little love!)

So, truly, nothing severe and traumatising happened to her, (as it did to me,) in our minutes apart. But still, I don't think I'll ever let a situation like that arise again.

Hmm... our connections in the subways were fine, and we didn't really get lost at all in the stations we changed at. We got out at station where the bus would be, and saw we still had a whole twelve to fifteen minutes. "Great" I thought. It was a beautiful subway station as well. I'd once seen something on TV, which showed some of the subway stations in Petersburg. They are Designed. You can imagine it as being part of a palace. It's all arches, pillars, vaulted ceilings, and so on. It's designed for Beauty. And the one we were at, was one of them. So, as Pamela had her camera in her pocket, I suggested that she snap a quick picture, as we could surely spare the twelve seconds that it would take. So, she stopped, clicked, and we carried on. But looking at the camera, (digital camera,) we saw that the flash didn't work, and nothing much at all could be seen. So, (still walking towards the exit,) she fiddled with the menus, to try to get the flash working right for such specific indoor lighting. Then there was... A man in uniform, saying something to us.

"Shtow?" I asked. He repeated, that no photographs are allowed to be taken in the subway station. "OK." -but had he seen? Yes. So, he said we'd have to pay the fine. "Even if we delete it? Even if you can look at it yourself and see that it didn't turn out at all?" Yes, even then. It was the action of clicking the shutter of a camera on the premises which was forbidden. Regardless if it was a good picture, or no picture at all. So, deleting it would Not satisfy the law. Great. Then, to pay the hundred rouble ticket, I had to fill in my name, address, passport number, and all. This whole time, Pamela and I are more than a little nervous about missing the bus, and more than a little thankful that we had enough money to pay the fine. (We were left afterwards with only 20 Roubles.) Thankfully, there was nothing MORE that has to be done for this ticket, and once it was completed, we gave him the money, and off we went.

Only two minutes later, I thought "Bother it!!! We really, really should have asked, if the picture didn't turn out anyhow, if we could at least take another one, after paying the fine. Preferably, with him in it." -And I truly would have loved that, as a picture: He and I, in the subway station, me handing over our money, and holding the ticket in the other hand. Wouldn't that have been... at True memento? Wouldn't it have been... just Great??? Sigh. We didn't have time to go back and look for him though. I probably wouldn't even have had time to explain to him what I would have wanted, if I'd thought of it while he was writing the ticket. Oh well. If any one else ever gets a ticket in the Saint Petersburg Subway stations, Please, PLEASE, get a picture of you getting the fine. For me.

Even with all the troubles I've related, we had three or four minutes before the bus left. So we sat there, in our seats, and just waited for the doors to close. We didn't trust ourselves to do anything else. I especially, seemed to be having bad luck with my "good suggestions." So I wasn't going to suggest a thing. We did find the fine in the subway unbelievable. I really would have expected there to be some sort of sign there Telling us that it was not allowed. At the Peter-and-Paul cathedral/fort/island, there had been a huge sign, listing ENDLESSLY the things that were forbidden. -I mean everything from expressing your political opinions, to committing suicide. (it was a rather strange sign.) And we saw nothing at all forbidding us to take pictures in the subways. Strange, no?

At last, after travelling through Russian farmland, we got to the border, (which was a breeze to go through. Everyone out, stamp, stamp, stamp, and everyone back onto the bus.) Then we were going through the Estonian farmland. And this may sound strange, but Pamela and I found it Beautiful. Somehow, it all looked cleaner. Friendlier. Lovelier. Even the grass growing, the clouds drifting, and the bales of hay in the fields were... nicer. It felt so, so good to be back in Estonia. I don't mean this as a criticism of Russia. It just must be seen, that for us two, we felt more comfortable, and at ease, in Estonia. Has this made any sense?

As there was still quite some time left together on the bus, I suggested to Pamela (a GOOD suggestion this time. No, Really! I promise it won't get either of us in any trouble at all!!) -that we play a little word game. This is one that I used to play with my sister, which could pass the time in a bit of an interesting way. We take turns, Pamela and I, telling a story. Not one story at a time, or one sentence, but one Word. That's where the challenge is: to fit your two ideas together about where this story is going. And you can never say a word that could Not fit into a sentence. (Meaning that after "one","day","there","were", could not come "can't." -Unless you were able to explain what words could come after "can't" such that the grammar would be correct.)

This game can often get rather peculiar, especially if at a least one of the people playing it would like it to. Our story was something about a Roof, (of a church,) which badly wanted to find out who had been it's creator. But, as it couldn't move, it asked some animals to go and find the people who'd created it. A bird took up this quest... had some adventures, and at length came to a group of very wise, druid sea-gulls, who could tell it the answer -IF... the little bird would complete a quest for the sea-gull-druids.

Yes, I think it WAS a little silly. But we had much fun discovering the story, and were both interested to see how it would end. Once it did end, (I won't tell you how; you'll just have to find someone to tell the story with yourself,) we were both tired out, and went to sleep. I personally slept, and slept... and felt the bus going around a corner, Opened my eyes, and saw we were pulling into the Tallinn Bus station. Off we got, and managed to catch the last city bus which took us to Ruta's place. And there our three days of Saint Petersburg officially ended.