Descriptive writing

I live in a city called Saint Petersburg; it is one of the greatest cities in Russia, well known all over the world as one of the most diverse places, culturally and historically. However during the school period I live at a boarding school close to Birmingham. Sometimes I miss Saint Petersburg, every time I go back to there over the holidays, I feel like I could stay forever.

When I return during the holidays, the first thing I do is go to the center of this great city. No matter what, whether I go there on my own or with my friends, I never tire of it, because every time I come back I see slight changes. The only thing, which has always been constant, and has never changed during my life, is my love of this city.

Saint Petersburg is a relatively young city. It was founded in 1703 by Tsar Peter the Great and it grew up on 42 islands, linked by 363 bridges. The city stretches along the Neva River, which reflects the beautiful panorama of the city during the summer.

Upon entering the center of the city, you are lost for words. You realise that you’re in a completely different world. You will be amazed by the variety of architecture lending the city an almost Parisian feel. Some of the most famous European and Russian masters did their best work while constructing the city, whether its through the majesty of the Peters Memorial or the grandeur of the Russian museum. It was nicknamed the “Window on Europe” because it was built in order to provide a port for trade through the Baltic Sea. Whether you choose to visit the city in the midst of a romantic and snow laden Russian winter or during the dazzling White Nights of the summer months, you will be spellbound by St. Petersburg’s culture and beauty.

When I walk beside the Neva River, the light shimmers giving a reflection of the city bathed in the twilight of the early morning. The bridge parts ways; opening the city river to the comings and goings of the local canal boats. During the white nights where night and day bleed together, where midnight seems like day; the lights adorning the side of the bridge shone like a beacon in the false day. When night finally falls, the snow laden roads freeze the frenzied rush of the traffic and the city becomes a quieter, peaceful place. The monumental glory of the gilt-domed St. Isaac’s cathedral. Its Gardens interspersed with fountains spewing the water which carried the smell of the clean breeze, the bronze glow of the coins that people had thrown in for luck below.

One of the most prestigious buildings in Saint Petersburg is the Russian Museum, within its Victorian halls the walls heave with paintings and artwork. As you pass through the rooms there is barely enough space for your eyes to take a rest as you pass from the ostentatious nature of oil portraits to other more provocative styles. The building itself could be considered a work of art in its own right with its white columns and pillars matching Grecian architecture with the lavishness of French like over use of gold leaf.

Canals and natural channels make St Petersburg a city of waterways and bridges. Central St Petersburg is divided by the Neva River into four parts: Admiralty Side, Vasilyevsky Island, the Petrograd Side and Vyborg Side. The Admiralty side is riddled with museums, monuments; historical buildings and squares lending it an air of history as the key location for a more historical view of the city. From the Admiralty tower, the heart of Peter’s city, you can see an eastward running avenue known as Nevsky Prospect.

Walking along the Nevsky Prospect, you feel the business, and at the same time romanticism of this city. Even though you see many people passing by; they are different to many citizens of great cities, instead of being self contained, the people are, in actuality some of the friendliest you’ll meet. You can always see a smile on their faces, which instantly rubs off on you.

The best time to see the pristine beauty of this city is during the warm summer evening. The place where I feel I could spend all my life, just looking at the panorama of the city, is Griboedov Bridge. Usually at about 5 or 6 o’clock in the evening I go to sit upon the bridge, looking down the Neva River, watching the reflections buildings dancing in the ripples of water, dying in the colour of the evening sun.

The pedestal of the Alexander Column is adorned with the heraldry and symbols of military glory. The monument is particularly impressive on a sunny evening shortly before dusk, when the last beams of sunlight are reflected in the polished red granite of the column turning the light a deep crimson as though the light was stained with blood of those who fought to attain this military glory.

When I come to my home town Saint Petersburg, the first thing I do is to go to the heart of the city, Nevsky Prospect. I need to take a ride to actually get there, which some people will not necessarily find very pleasant. Due to the popularity of this city it is sometimes very difficult to get to the centre of the city quickly by the ground forms of transport. But, when I’m living in England I always miss the Russian underground and tramways. I think that traveling by a tramway in Saint Petersburg became a kind of culture, and I usually miss this form of transport very much, so another thing I do, after I come back to my hometown is that I go to the underground.

Heading down the stairs, you enter a different world, the world of noise and business. Those people, who use this form of transport in Russia everyday, might not like it very much and some people are really fed up with it. But nevertheless, it became a part of the culture of my city. Lights blipping all the time, advertisements constantly shoved in your face from every angle, everyone trying to get anywhere in time. Women carry their bags with the names of the most popular brands in the world in a stereotypical display of sophistication, like birds, those with the most desirable brands are the best. Even though it is difficult to hear anything down underground, many people always use their phones to either call or text somebody. There you can find people of different age groups, cultures and nationalities. In this big soup bowl of cultures, this huge mix of people you can always find people reading the books every one of them burying their noses in their tomes in an attempt to seem intelligent. Most of these people are usually either students or very old people.

For me traveling by public form of transport is very different. Usually I spend a long time in England. For me sitting in the old fashioned train is great pleasure. However, the people tend to be angrier so it’s better to avoid staring at someone or asking stupid questions. While I sit in the train, I can hear the words blaring out from the sound speakers. It’s an old tape, which machine driver needs to play every time before the train starts moving; in a deranged old fashioned ritual of safety. Blurting out in an emotionless voice the room is filled with repetitions of “Passengers! Attention! The doors are closing! ” The electric engine rumbles to life; blocking everyone’s ears with a wall of noise, and the train starts moving. As the train makes its way, you may find buskers trying to earn their living through their art, trying to break the noise with their music which cuts its way through the noise to reach the listener.

The interior of the wagon is a kind of 1960’s style. It’s easy to explain it, because most of the trains in Russia, which were made in 1950-60’s, are still on the rails today. I like traveling by these trains so much, mainly because I like the atmosphere inside, which is being created by the old leather seats, 60’s style lamps and old people, wearing hats and reading newspapers.

When I come out from the dark tunnels of the dimly lit underground I come out into the green parkland and open spaces where a huge statue of a bronze horseman is set, a tribute to Peter the Great. A ledge of stone protrudes from the ground raising the horse and its rider above the people in a majestic stance that seems to cry " this is my city". The glory is hard to beat as the horse rears to lend the statue a majestic grace. Then I go to the riverside structure that is Michailovsky Palace, this wonderful place seems as though it has fallen straight from a fairy tale with its towers atop which rest coloured domes of many hues. The Islamic influence is obvious and the towers are reminiscent of a Mosque. The bustle of people outside creates an odd atmosphere as the commotion upon the ground is mimicked in the busyness of the adornment on the building creating a strangely surreal picture.

Passing under the great archway of Saint Isaac's square, the great square is situated next to a huge building which curves as though to embrace the square. During the later hours the square is sparsely populated which is odd due to the large size of the square which looks as though it was built to harbour many hundreds, if not thousands of people. The buildings surrounding are again adorned columns and the beige brickwork and the Chariot borne statue atop the main arch are reminiscent of a French architectural style, in a haunting tribute to the era in which it was built, reflecting the ostentatious nature of the city. In the centre of the square there is a huge column whereupon a statue rests of an angel bearing the cross, the mammoth size of the column intimidates you as you feel insignificant in perspective to the huge monument. The grandeur is even matched by the ornate lamps which are dotted around.

To see Kazansky palace I take the mini bus, usually this involves an uncomfortable journey packed like sardines in a can until we finally get released at our destination of the palace. The palace itself is, much like many of the buildings in Saint Petersburg, a building compiled of pillars and domes. Intricate carvings run along the side of the building. The web way of cables running around it, connecting it to the outside world, with its draperies of signs and lights contrasting with the more rustic feel of the surroundings. The building wore a domed cap of green and gold, ringed with windows and columns. The main building was a semi circle of decadent columns and slanted sections that hinted at Greek temples.

Aside from monuments, my other great love is to visit the smaller places such as the cafe where the writers and actors congregate. In many ways it is a cultural centre of all of its own with many famous faces frequenting there. It is a very traditional café. There is a very warm atmosphere in spite of the dark rooms because of the kerosene lamps. The smell of coffee fills the air, and the dulcet tones of the blues and jazz musicians are amidst the air of light chatter. The chairs are of old red leather which has been worn soft by the previous patrons, these accompany the wooden tables which give the cafe a rustic charm you would be hard pushed to find somewhere else. Amidst the regular people who bring their custom here, you often see famous writers or actors who like to wind away their time here away from the disturbances of the world outside. Usually I stay there till the setting of the sun and while away my evening in this place.

It is this side of Saint Petersburg that makes me want to stay, the romantic, beautiful side of the city, where everything takes second priority as you just take the time to admire the nuances of this wonderful place. If I could I would stay here forever but necessity brings me back to my Boarding School where I wait till the next time I can return.