Monday, another day when I have to remind myself that I don’t have a plan, I have a purpose, slow down and just look around. Be in the moment.
Walked towards Double B coffee & tea for my favorite coffee. Passing through Palace Square, I found out just what Russians do with that wide open area on the day the museum is closed.
I found a note on the Double B door saying they weren’t opening until 11. Knew better than to skip breakfast, and went looking for the pyshki (Russian Krispy Kreme-type doughnut) place. No luck, but Fruktovaya Lavka was right there, and open, so I went in and had apple pancakes (blini with chopped, sautéed apples), a great double shot cappuccino, and updated the blog while I ate. 
With my Mac Air in my backpack, I walked over to the Russian Museum, intending to pay homage to Phryne and maybe draw for awhile.
Encountered the long lines I’d only heard about. Turned right around, called Uber and went to Loft Project Etazhi to snag that super cool top for Robin. Hooray, they were open, OMG they wanted cash. I tried to pull cash out of a nearby ATM with my AmEx or Visa but no go. Slightly more determined than discouraged, I Ubered back to the hotel, ate an apple, pulled my debit card out of my safe, hit the ATM in the Astoria. Back I went to the Etazhi. It is always lively, hipsters families must be coming from miles around. I’m still amazed at how shoddy and squalid the building itself is, but feel right at home. I buy the shirt (third time lucky!) buy another teeshirt with flying Hermitage cats (sales supports homeless people and autism research). Counting the few rubles I have left, I ascend the stairs to the Green Room Café, which I think of as the yellow butterfly restaurant. 
No credit cards welcome here either. I can afford tomato soup and bottle of water. There are young kids everywhere, squirming in high chairs, sleeping in their mothers arms or solemnly thumbing an iPhone A woman with beautiful dreds eats her lunch with one eye on her toddler.
Headed towards to Dostoyevsky’s parish church, Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God Cathedral. Completed in 1783, it has five different-sized onion-shaped cupolas, some currently undergoing restoration. Bells were ringing as I walked up.
Inside, a priest was chanting a mass, while swinging a censor and circling a low altar for his congregation of seven wizened, white-haired parishioners.
I sat half-hidden by a column and thought how lucky I was have made this journey to St. Petersburg. Before I left, I bought bright red wallet cards of icons and some red candles that I lit for my dear ones.
Left feeling tranquil and happy. Ubered back to the Astoria, listening to Peter the Great.
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