traveler – The Late Bloomer

From Rome to Asia without flying – Yekaterinburg, across the Europe – Asia border

Featured by Fabrizio Bianchi, posted in digitalnomadism, economy, travel, Lifestyle, travel, World

The 29 of May 2019 I got on a train at the Kazan railway station at around 2 p.m.

I was about to adventure on a trip of 14 hours that would have covered a distance of 1000 km.

The next stop on the trans – Siberian railway trip was the city of Yekaterinburg, the administrative centre of Sverdlovsk Oblast and the Ural Federal District.

The fourth-largest city in Russia.

I slept most of the time during the long traversing that would bring me closer to Asia than ever before.

It was a relatively quiet trip, with a bunk buddy to chat about during the waking times.

His name was Alexey.

He was travelling back to Yekaterinburg, after a few days of vacation in Kazan.

He was extremely friendly, despite the language barrier that forced us to speak through the translator app.

And that could happen only the very few times we were online, of course.

The man was an employee of Gazprom and had not been shy about criticizing Putin.

He was getting paid too little for his job, something that was hard not to believe.

You know that saying that the world is a village, right? It is a cliché that travellers often find themselves reaffirming despite their strong exploration drive.

We got to the Yekaterinburg railway station at 6 in the morning.

We shared a strong Russian hug with Alexey, before saying goodbye to each other.

He also gifted me with some fridge magnets, proving once again that generosity is not a secondary value in this part of the world.

I got a taxi that took me to the Richmond Hotel on Malisheva Street 136, just in front of the Institute of Physics and Technology, on the east side of the city.

The place was nicely decorated and looked really high level in terms of service and facilities.

My room was spacious and bright.

I dropped the luggages and took a quick shower, before reaching the top floor where they were serving breakfast.

I got an omelette, a butter croissant, black coffee and some fruits.

It was a beautiful, sunny day outside.

A pleasant glow flowed through the glass that surrounded the roof bar.

I felt incredibly energized.

I just couldn’t wait to grab my camera and go out exploring.

Which I did, about an hour later.

It was still early morning and the city was buzzing.

While the taxi was hustling on a dirty road with heavy traffic, I had immediately the impression that something had shifted.

That was a perception of the distinctive chaos embedded in every Asian metropolis.

The city of Yekaterinburg is located on the Iset River between the Volga-Ural region and Siberia, with a population of roughly 1.5 million residents, up to 2.2 million residents in the urban agglomeration. Yekaterinburg is the fourth-largest city in Russia, the largest city in the Ural Federal District, and one of Russia’s main cultural and industrial centres. [1]
Wikipedia

My first stop was the Sevastyanov’s house on Lenin Avenue, in the heart of the city.

During the Soviet years, the first labor exchange in the country was based in the mansion, and then the regional council of trade unions. In 2008, the building was completely restored as the residence of the President of Russia at the SCO summit. [2]
Senator Business Hotel

*A view of the mansion facade with elements of Neo-Gothic and Baroque*

I then walked Northside along the Iset River basin to reach one of the most suggestive point of the city.

The site of the once so-called Ipatiev House, built in the 1880s, and owned by Nicholas Ipatiev.

During the February revolution, the house was vacated and surrounded by wooden walls by the Soviet.

Here, the Romanov, the last royal family of Russia, were taken captive for 78 days.

With the Czechoslovak Legions fighting with the White Army against the Bolsheviks and advancing inexorably towards Yekaterinburg, the Reds feared an attempt to liberate the royals.

In the early hours of 17 July 1918, the Tsar Nicholas Alexandrovich, Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna, Grand Duchess Olga, Grand Duchess Tatiana, Grand Duchess Maria, Grand Duchess Anastasia and Tsarevich Alexei—were taken to the basement of the Ipatiev House and were murdered by being shot and bayoneted. Czechoslovak Legions captured the city less than a week later. [3]
Wikipedia

If you don’t follow the Netflix Series “The Crown”, there’s an interesting episode of the fifth season, called indeed “Ipatiev House”, which re-enacts the final moments of the lives of the Romanov’s and their brutal murder.

It is a very fascinating story because in reconstructing the British crown’s ties to the Romanov’s family, – the Tsar Nicholas II was the cousin of King George V, who was the Queen’s grandfather – hints to the possibility of King George and his wife Queen Mary might have sent a ship to rescue Nicholas II and his family.

They apparently decided not to, for reasons that are still unclear and that the British series on Netflix will address in this episode.

Fast-forward to 1991, the remainder of the episode deals with the communist Soviet Union collapse and Boris Yeltsin taking control. Soon the queen learns that years earlier, when Yeltsin was a lower government official, he ordered the destruction of Ipatiev House.

The British royals will then work to tight relations with Russia with an effort to find the Romanov remains and give them a dignified rest.

85 years after the execution of the former imperial family, that same place has given home to an impressive memorial complex dedicated to them.

*Church of All Saints, also known as The Church on Blood in Honour of All Saints Resplendent in the Russian Land*, *built on the site where the last Tsar and his family were executed*

I kept walking along the Iset, heading south this time.

At this point, I casually came across another interesting landmark of the city that to my surprise had nothing to do with the history of Russia.

*The so-called “Monument to The Beatles”*

During the Soviet era, the regime considered the Beatles to be part of the Western propaganda machine, spreading anti-Soviet messages, and so listening to the banned musicians was risky. To be caught listening to their music, in possession of their albums, or dressing as though you look like you might, meant people chanced potential travel bans and trouble from government officials. [4]
Culture Trip

Despite the Soviet propaganda, the Beatles influence was huge on Russian youth, and it comes at not surprise that after the collapsing of the USSR, the desire to celebrate the band was finally channelled.

After dedicating a secular prayer at the mural of Chester Bannigtong, leader of my beloved Linkin Park, hosted in the same spot, I walked back to Lenin Avenue.

I got a sandwich at a grocery store and I decided to enjoy my lunch in the sun, sitting across “The Passage” shopping mall.

*A view of The Passage shopping mall on Lenin Avenue*

I remember reflecting on the fact that the historical, cultural stratification of a city is an interesting phenomenon.

The presence of many symbols, that apparently have nothing in common, but that can coexist in an environment without any constriction.

You might find streets and monuments dedicated to a murderer like Lenin in a city that also celebrate culture and arts, with 41 libraries and 50 different museums.

It is a very fascinating contradiction that reveals revisionisms and errors, evidently.

But, at the end of the day, I believe that the only way to let a country, a city, an entire region, thrive, is the freedom of expression.

*People enjoying an early afternoon in the sun*

It was time to go off the path, again.

I took a small bus on Lenin Avenue to travel about 20 kilometres west, through the E22 motorway traversing the Sverdlovsk Oblast.

It’s basically a straight line surrounded by forests of the thinnest pines, until the Tatischev memorial stone site.

You then need to walk a little bit further to reach the actual spot.

*Traditional buddhist colorful ribbons, marking the path towards the border*

The border site is marked by a tall obelisk that stands between the two continents.

*The Europe – Asia phisical border* marked by the obelysk

The Europe Asia Obelisk beautifully marks the border between the two continents. A line divides the monument so that half of it is on each side of the border. Furthermore, at the bottom of the monument are two rocks – one brought from the furthest west of Europe and the other from the furthest east of Asia. They symbolically meet on each side of this monument. [5]
Travel All Russia

Here’s another unforgettable moment of my journey.

I had finally made to Asia without taking any flights.

It was truly exciting.

You can hint at my smile there 🙂

I got back to town, thinking about the important milestone I hade made towards recovery.

It was a mild spring afternoon and everyone seemed very happy to be enjoying it.

*A view of the Plotinka on the river basin*

I sit on the river bank, enjoying an ice cream, letting the fleeting beauty of the moment sweep away any hint of loneliness.

I couldn’t tell anyone what I was doing. But it seemed that it didn’t matter anymore.

I finally felt the eyes of someone, something, that would never judge me or abandon me, not for anything in the world.

From Rome to Asia without flying – Kazan, a culture cauldron

Featured by Fabrizio Bianchi, posted in digitalnomadism, Lifestyle, Senza categoria, travel, World

Life in Kazan, like in many other cities around the world, revolves around a fortification, a walled city.

In this part of the world they use the term kremlin, which means indeed “fortification” in slave language, and which is commonly associated with the Russian state.

In reality, the kremlin is a historical feature of many Russian cities, a heritage of a past in which war was often behind the door, there was no such a thing as deterrence and defence was more important than offence.

The Kazan Kremlin has got its own peculiarity, though, a symbol of his multiculturalism that is a trait of this fascinating city.

Within the walls that protect some beautiful Orthodox cathedrals, the towers of an imposing mosque stand out, as if they were reaching for the sky.

*The Kul Sharif Mosque located inside the Kazan Kremlin*

Originally, the mosque was built in the Kazan Kremlin in the 16th century. It was named after Kul Sharif, who was a religious scholar who served there. Kul Sharif died along with his numerous students while defending Kazan from Russian forces in 1552 during the Siege of Kazan, and the mosque was destroyed by Ivan the Terrible’s forces. [1]
Wikipedia

Here, in the capital of Tatarstan, you are already far enough away from the West to feel a strong shake to your own Christian roots.

The city’s population consists mostly of ethnic Tatars (48.8%) and ethnic Russians (46.9%). Predominant faiths of Kazan city are Islam and Eastern Orthodox Christianity. [2]
Wikipedia

My tour of the city couldn’t fail to begin from the citadel that overlook the modern city (in the following picture).

On a rather cool morning, I strolled through the narrow streets of the fortress, while admiring all the landmarks.

It was a quiet Monday, as I only came across some local tourists that were enjoying a holidays break in the early summer.

Here’s a view of the main entrance with the Spasskaya Tower in the background:

The silence all around the citadel was almost spiritual. The chill breeze blowing from Siberia was teasing my sleepiness.

*The shiny interiors of the Kul Sharif mosque*

I was particularly struck by the starry domes of the Annunciation Cathedral.

Here’s in the background of the monument dedicated to Tatar and Russian builders:

I had never seen anything further from the rigorous towers of a Gothic cathedral.

One of the things that fascinates me most about religious architecture is the particular creativity of its symbol system.

There is something obviously kind, fairy-like about conceiving a dome that represents a starry sky.

Any child would have dreamy eyes in front of something like that.

I walked about 30 minutes from the foot of the Kremlin to Tukay Square, in the heart of the city.

*A view of the Kul Sharif Mosque from beyond the Kazan Kremlin wall*

I decided to stop at the Dobraya Stolovaya, right on Bauman street, where I was served a delicious Şulpa with noodles on a red chip tray.

*Bauman Street with the The Belltower of Epiphany in the background*

I made a plan during lunch and in the early afternoon I got on a taxi with the intention of going a bit off the path this time.

I was directed to the Staroye Arakchino Microdistrict, a tiny village on the bank of the Volga River.

About 30 minutes driving from the city centre.

I was looking for something I would consider quite unusual.

A place that represent all religions in the world.

*A view of the The Temple of All Religions*

The Temple of all Religions or The Universal Temple consists of several types of religious architecture including an Orthodox church, a mosque, and a synagogue, among others. It is currently under construction since 1992, started by local artist and philanthropist Ildar Khanov (1940–2013). The structure now serves as a cultural center and a residence for Khanov’s brother and sister, who both continue to serve as guides and supervisors of the complex. [3]
Wikipedia

In this remote and isolated location, I found the epitome of all the epitomes.

The structure is not an active temple of any religion, but rather, as Khanov described its mission, a “temple of culture and truth”. It has become a popular landmark in the city of Kazan, which takes pride in the peaceful combination of different cultures (Islamic Tatar culture, Orthodox Russian, and others). [4]
Wikipedia

After visiting the temple, I just took a moment to look at the peaceful water of the Volga river and meditate on the state of my being.

I was trying to let go of all the anger I kept carrying around as an unnecessary burden.

Letting that powerful and destructive feeling be consigned to a place of redemption, after all.

Khanov was known for his efforts in the treatment of alcoholism, drug addiction, and various other addictions. His patients helped him to maintain and develop the Temple, either by direct involvement in the construction work or through sponsorship. [5]
Wikipedia

I went back to Bauman street and walked again in the direction of the Kremlin, while the early light of the sunset was creating a nostalgic photography.

I kept walking until I reached the boardwalk on the south side of the city.

*A view of the nothern city from the boardwalk*

As the sunset gently descended on the huge Volga mantle, I realized two things:

I missed being in love with someone.

I missed being loved by someone.

I later decided to cross the Volga, accessing the northern side of the city.

Here, in the so-called Kazan Riviera, many Russians come to spend their summer holidays.

There’s a striking contrast with the rest of the city.

With its impressive hotel complexes, sandy beaches and water parks, it feels like you have been catapulted to places much more familiar to us Westerners.

The mundane soul of a city that never fails to surprise you.

*A view of the Big wheel, located on the Kazan Riviera*

*People enjoying a beach volleyball match* *at the Kazan Riviera*

After a meal in an Italian restaurant and a nice walk along the Riviera, I reached another symbolic place.

The end of a cyclical path that reminds you of being in a place where multiple souls coexist.

*The Big Cauldron that hosts the Kazan Family Center*

The term kazan means ‘boiler’ or ‘cauldron’ (Russian: каза́н/Tatar: казан) in the Tatar and Turkic languages. The origin of the city and its name is often described as follows: a sorcerer advised the Bulgars to build a city where, without any fire, a boiler dug into the ground would boil water. [6]
Wikipedia

Here I assisted of another interesting phenomena: a gathering of the city Muslim youth that were smoking the Hookah inside their cars while chatting and listening to Arab music.

At that moment, I envied them for the feeling of belonging to a community.

I went back to the hotel.

I crashed on the bed, falling asleep right on the spot.

When I woke up, I checked my phone.

It was 3:30 a.m.

The light of the dawn had already invaded the room.

I washed my face, then I took the lift to reach the rooftop.

There was one more thing to do before leaving Kazan.

The Café was still open, and to my surprise, I wasn’t the only one in there.

*Here I am smoking a water pipe* in the dawn

Then I just surrendered to the moment without thinking about anything at all.

From Rome to Asia without flying – Moscow to Kazan through the TranSiberian railway

Featured by Fabrizio Bianchi, posted in digitalnomadism, Lifestyle, travel, World

How many people have you heard dreaming about adventuring through the Transiberian railway, but they never did at the end?

A lot, personally.

This was a huge thing from many generations of the past.

From the ’60s thought the ’90s.

It still remains a dream for millions of people, even though the most popular railway in the world has lost some of its appeal in recent years.

Different factors come to play here, from the lack of sympathy for Russia these days to the fact that train trips no longer seem to appeal today’s youth.

Too bad.

When I boarded, the carriage number 23 at the Moscow Kazansky railway station, I was excited like a baby.

I was about to adventure on a 14h ride, but I couldn’t be more happy.

I love trains, I have already confessed that.

*The train I was about to board at the Moscow Kazansky railway station*

It is worth to mention that I had bought all the tickets on the official website of OJSC Russian Railways well in advance, when I was still in Italy.

My plan included the first stretch from St. Petersburg to Moscow, the second from Moscow to Kazan, the third from Kazan to Yekaterinburg, the fourth from Yekaterinburg to Krasnoyarsk, the fifth from Krasnoyarsk to Irkutsk, the sixth from Irkutsk to Ulan Ude.

It’s up to you how many stops you want to make during the way, as the same train runs from Saint Petersburg to Ulan Ude in about 4 days.

*The timetable from Moscow Kazansky railway station to Ulan Ude*

The train left the platform at 13:25, with 15 min of delay.

I was going to get to Kazan at two o’clock in the morning.

Until that point, one of the longest journeys I ever made by train.

There had been a previous trip, during my Erasmus days, from my hometown to Paris, that had taken more than a day.

A crazy one, that would be worthy of a whole article.

Another time, maybe.

Then there were the overnight rides from Rome to Vienna.

I reserved a bunk bed, but at that moment I had actually in my mind everything but sleeping.

In the couchette I was greeted by a gentleman and a lady, husband and wife, with a big smile.

They were both Russians and did not speak any English, unfortunately.

I lied on the bed and listened to some music.

I couldn’t fit myself in the bunk properly because of the small dimensions, but it was quite comfortable overall.

The first stop was due in Vekovka after three and a half hours.

There would be a total of eight stops all the way to Kazan, covering a distance of about 800 km.

The first few hours of the trip had been rather dull, apart from some funny bickering from husband and wife.

They seemed like a very nice couple, though.

The stop in Vekovka had been rather long, about half an hour, the next, in Murom, was just a matter of a handful of minutes instead.

We had greeted a fourth guest in our couchette at that point.

A Russian gentleman of about my same age.

He couldn’t speak any English, either.

It can be frustrating to hit the language barrier in those situations, but that’s one of the consequences of travelling like a local.

Overcoming that barrier is a matter of finding universal themes, acts, that allow people to overcome any cultural gap.

It can produce the most unexpected situations.

Often very amusing.

And a matter of life and death in the most extreme cases.

Technology can also come spectacularly in handy, like the pure magic of having an instant translator at your disposal.

So, I found myself talking to my phone most of the time at a certain point.

In reality, I was finally communicating with my bunkmates.

Boris and Marya, the Russian couple, husband and wife, were travelling back from Moscow, where they had visited their boy Nikolai, a third-year engineering student.

They were making some dinner in the confined space of the couchette, skilfully manoeuvring between bags and luggages.

I was in charge to get hot water through the carriage kettle to make some tea.

We had some delicious siberian dumplings for dinner.

Boris and Marya were from Novosibirsk, the third-largest city in Russia, “The capital of Siberia”.

The other guy, Ivan, was travelling back to Sergach, his hometown, the next stop on the way to Kazan, after a few days of holidays spent in Moscow.

Sharing food in a couchette is one of the most intimate experience you can have on a trip.

I would go as far as saying that’s the essence of travelling.

The purest one.

*Boris and Marya sitting on the left side and Ivan lying on the bunk on the right side, after our dinner inside the couchette*

Boris and Marya shared their food with me, like any parents would do with their children.

Like I was their son.

Because that’s what they made me feel at that moment.

*Boris and Marya chilling out in one of the stops during our trip to Kazan*

We arrived in Kazan around 2:30 a.m.

When the train started to slow down approaching the railway station, Boris stood up from the bunk, while Marya kept sleeping.

He came out of the couchette helping me with the luggages.

Then he gave me a strong, unexpected hug with its perpetual smile on its face, before going back to his bunk.

I felt like never before in my life, loved and protected, like a son would feel when his father doesn’t hold back.

That’s a perfect world that can only exist in some fleeting moments, I guess.

I got out of the train, traversing the darkness of the Kazan railway station, and walking in the direction of the hotel, that was about a kilometre away.

Amazingly enough, the first lights of the down were appearing over the horizon.

A beautiful eastern down.

I felt relived, happy almost.

From Rome to Asia without flying – Western Russia

Featured by Fabrizio Bianchi, posted in digitalnomadism, economy, travel, Lifestyle, travel, World

What we talk about, when we talk about Russia?

It’s not easy these days, let’s make that clear first.

Many people have been forced to wrongly associate the history, tradition, culture of a complex yet unbelievable country with the current state of politic or a powerful, controversial figure as Vladimir Putin.

That’s unfortunate.

I feel that, as a person who was lucky enough to traverse its vastness, diversity, richness.

Russia is the largest country in the world with a total area of 17,098,242 Km² (6,601,665 mi²) and a land area of 16,376,870 Km² (6,323,142 mi²). [1]

When we talk about Russia, we talk about an enormous body that contains different animas, religions, even continents.

Let’s focus on the western part of this multilayered tradition.

We are talking about the area that ranges from Saint Petersburg to Moscow, which takes only a tiny portion of the whole body.

It is worth to pinpoint another impressive fact at this point:

There are eleven time zones in Russia, which currently observe times ranging from UTC+02:00 to UTC+12:00. [2]

Probably, most people that live in the two biggest Russian cities, see themselves as westerners.

Or at least I had this impression when I visited back in 2019.

Things have changed since then, as Ukraine invasion by Russia has had a huge impact on that perception, I believe.

The West, which basically means USA and Europe, has moved with all its means to alienate Russia.

They succeeded, at least on a cultural level, as everything that is associated with Russia is perceived with a bias these days.

Social media, which are breeding one conformist after another, have only amplified this strategy.

History, literature, architecture, beauty, should have no flag.

That’s my belief.

But, when you talk about Russia, people tend to get cold, to turn their heads.

That’s a pity, I repeat.

While Saint Petersburg remains the cultural capital of the country, because of its undisputed beauty and sophistication, Moscow is the political and economical centre.

Most of the country wealth is concentrated here, in that tiny strip that face Northern Europe.

Capitalism, in the Russian translation, means gas, oligarchs.

After the Soviet Union collapse in 1991, the oligarchs, favored by a ruling class of inept (you remember Boris Yeltsin right?), have feasted on the country’s great mining heritage.

Putin’s rise was facilitated by some of them, who probably underestimated the man, thinking they could keep manoeuvring the Russia’s president like a puppet.

Well, it didn’t go that way.

Putin has gone out of his way to make it easier for those who never opposed him, taking out whoever tried to challenge him.

The rest is history.

In this part of Russia, wealth is often exhibited, as a symbol of power and masculinity.

It is a post-Soviet tradition that has roots in the empire period, I suppose.

Russia has always seen herself as a powerful imperial state.

This is something that goes beyond the personality of an individual leader.

It is an historical attribute.

Then there is the religious matter at the heart of any intricate dynamic concerning this country.

*A view of Red Square, with a glimpse of the mausoleum containing Lenin’s remains.*

When we talk about western Russia, we talk about a Cristhian orthodox tradition, whose incredible legacy is on display at every corner of cities such as St. Petersburg and Moscow.

On the other side, there’s revolution and the looming presence of Lenin, with whom any Russian leader must contend.

Putin has successfully navigated these two worlds without explicitly favoring either of them.

I have got the sense that on this side of Russia, no one wants to be a communist anymore.

But at the time, the revolution started far away, finally reaching Moscow.

And there’s also the journey to be taken through the social ranks.

I don’t think it surprises anyone that there may be communist nostalgics among those who are having a hard time.

And they are not a small number in Russia.

When I was visited Saint Petersburg or Moscow, I had the feeling that you get in any big western city, though.

People seemed to enjoy comfort and have a desire to live a free, happy life.

Isn’t that what we all ultimately want?

In my next article, I will talk about the days I spent in Moscow, the capital, the holy city, the centre of any historical and political intrigue.

Stay tuned fellas.

From Rome to Asia without flying – Saint Petersburg, a writer dream

Featured by Fabrizio Bianchi, posted in digitalnomadism, Lifestyle, travel, World

I don’t know about yourself, but I often have the feeling that this thing that we call life is just a dream.

It’s an old, recurring theme in literature and in neuroscience today, as the way we perceive reality can be described as a “controlled hallucination”.

We don’t see things as they are, but as we are.

Which means that our mind is constantly creating a vision before our eyes.

A dream, literary.

Past, present and future flow in that same ephemeral river, as if they never existed.

“And so I ask myself: Where are your dreams? And I shake my head and mutter: How the years go by! And I ask myself again: What have you done with those years? Where have you buried your best moments? Have you really lived?”, ask Dostoevsky in the White Nights, a short story he wrote about an isolated, dreamer character living in Saint Petersburg.

A classic of his.

The answer seems to be captured in another quote of the same book:

“But how could you live and have no story to tell?”

We can’t, indeed, we need to make sense of that hallucination telling (writing) stories about ourselves, about others.

Especially when life seems to play the absurdity card for us.

Without doing so, we are going to fall in a bottomless, hellish pit, and we are simply going to die, miserably.

That seems an appropriate premise to make in talking about my Petersburg days.

There is probably no better city on earth for daydreaming and storytelling.

Quite often its beauty is so striking that it generates a kind of jealousy, though.

You would want to treasure it, like a rare and beautiful dream, indeed.

But that’s no the reason why we are here, and why we do what we do.

We do inflame that sparkling fantasy of ours through images, for example.

Above are some photos of the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood, erected on the same site where the emperor Alexander II was assassinated by members of the nihilist movement.

The “spilled blood” suffix refers indeed to his assassination.

Too bad the dome was under renovation works at that time, nonetheless the facade retained its glorious magnificence.

“I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just can’t help re-living such moments as these in my dreams,” says again Dostoevsky in the White Nights, a book that marked my adolescence deeply.

As an idealistic, hyper sensitive, impressionable, teenager I could identify and empathize with Dostoevsky’s protagonist, with his inadequacy, his loneliness.

One of the many things that scares me about the present world, is the fact that today, young people don’t seem to have any interest in reading great literature.

They are easily addicted to social media scrolling, consuming contents that don’t nurture their mind, their souls.

That has a huge impact on their cognitive abilities, but also on their feelings.

I believe that a particularly sensitive guy finds no comfort in scrolling through pictures and videos on Instagram, YouTube or even worse, TikTok.

Honestly, I have no idea how young people can cope with life today, but I am pretty sure that my adolescence would have been darker, marked by anxiety and a sense of being constantly inadequate, without books.

You may have realized by now that I have a hard time talking about my Petersburg days through a linear narrative, but that’s because I really experienced it all as a dream.

Time windows open one into the other.

So, I’d rather let the pictures do the talking here:

St. Petersburg is the city of canals, more than 60, of one of the world’s richest museums, the Hermitage, which features a painting by Leonardo da Vinci, one of the earliest works of the High Renaissance, Madonna Litta, of Petrine Baroque by Domenico Trezzani and Giovanni Fontana among others.

It’s also the city where the greatest writer of all time, Fëdor Michajlovič Dostoevskij, lived most of his life and set most of his fiction works.

*The F. M. Dostoyevsky Literary Memorial Museum located on Kuznechny Lane 5/2*

I had the privilege to visit the apartment on Kuznechny Lane 5/2 where Dostoevskij lived twice during his life, first for a short period in 1846 in the beginnings of his career, and later from October 1878, when he wrote The Brothers Karamazov, until his death in January 1881.

Mine was thus a pilgrimage to the city where the writer who most marked my personal and intellectual path, is still buried.

From Mskovskiy Prospekt, I took the Metro 4, the orange line, to reach Alexander Nevsky Square, where the Tikhvin Cemetery is located.

Walking in that sacred place was without doubt one of the highlight of my journey to Asia.

One of the milestone of my entire life, I would dare to say.

Finding the grave wasn’t hard, as the cemetery is a tiny one.

*The grave of Fyodor Dostoevsky and his wife Anna*

I cannot hide the fact that I was particularly moved at that moment.

And I would certainly fail in trying to describe my feelings and thoughts, how surreal the whole thing appeared to me.

I cannot reveal my private conversation with him, either, with whoever was listening in the universe at that particular moment.

I want to close this article with the gold paint epitaph transcribed on the grave, including Dostoyevsky’s favorite Gospel verse:

Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit (Jn. 12:24).

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