This was our destination for the night. We needed to buy tickets to get in, which me and some of the Germans were not too happy about. The way we saw it, we should have a say in whether or not we want to spend our money, rather than being shepherded to a place usually pretty far away from public transport hubs (however pretty), deposited at the front gate, and then told that we need to cough up 15 euro for entry. I still paid because what can you do, but I did complain to Ksenia.
The show was ... incomprehensible, but interesting. There must have been at least two thousand people there, and as far as I could tell it was some sort of cultural show, where Petergof was lit up with lights and there were hosts and hostesses, and there was a stage and two projection screens on either end. It was also growing steadily colder, and I began to shiver - I'd left my jersey in the hostel, and was only wearing a T-shirt and a hoodie, which was NOT enough to stave off the inclement Russian night of Petergof.
Whilst we watched the performance, a tall, hunky German guy called Thomas, who bore a strong resemblance to Justin Timberlake (I'm not making this up, he really did look like him), spoke to us, and introduced himself as a student probably a year or two older than me, who was in SPB for a volunteer programme whilst learning Russian on the aside. Not for the first time, I really envy the mobility and freedom of the EEA and their access to resources and by extension life experiences that we don't have. He was pretty nice, and noticed that I was shivering, and immediately stripped off his large parka and put it upon my shoulders, which I thought was incredibly chivalrous of him - not to mention, I was pretty flattered, as he was rather handsome. It's these weird and random moments and encounters on the road that make me want to return to travelling again and again - not to mention, they make great stories, and what are we all but the sum of our experiences?
I felt much better after he gave me his parka, and we continued to watch the performance, which finished at about 10ish. Everyone began to file out of the pavilion, and in the melee, me and some of the girls (which unfortunately included Giorgia) were separated from Thomas and the rest of the group. We wandered around, and Giorgia, who was being uncharacteristically friendly, said to us that we wouldn't be lost for very long, as I was still wearing Thomas' coat and there was no way that he was leaving without his coat. We all laughed.
We did eventually manage to locate the others, and we walked slowly to a hotel lobby to wait for our driver. Thomas walked with me, and we talked and laughed and he told me about himself. As we walked, it began to rain, and I put up an umbrella which I'd borrowed from one of the girls, who had borrowed it from the hostel in turn. The umbrella was a bit broken and Thomas and I had to huddle underneath it. We made our way into the lobby, and we all draped ourselves over the sofas. Juan and Thomas, the only two men in the group, sat next to each other slightly awkwardly, and Juan rather half heartedly trotted out some German phrases, which surprised us all. I do envy these Europeans and how they're all polyglots - wait but what? I'm a polyglot myself. I don't need to feel too bad.
Thomas asked Juan where he'd learnt his German, and their conversation was hilariously uncomfortable:
THOMAS: So where did you learn to speak German?
JUAN: Germany.
THOMAS: OK.
Giorgia started laughing - still the not-so-heinous version of herself, then - and she said, between tears of mirth, 'This whole evening was so funny. First the two of you walking under that broken umbrella - ' she gestured to me and Thomas - 'and then that conversation! That's truly how guys speak! If it had been a conversation between girls we would have gone on for half an hour or more!' We all laughed, and then our cars arrived, and it was time to go back.
Back to my nice double bedded spacey room, then.
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