We had our first breakfast in the hotel, which, unlike the Savoy, was well attended; in other words, packed to the gills with tourists, predominantly from Germany. There was a minor international incident over the toaster - not terribly efficient and probably a relic from the Siege of Leningrad - which meant that mutterings and glower-ings were exchanged across the dining room for a good part of the meal. (I have now moved on from salmon and black bread to smoked ham and cheese and rye. Could do with a few prunes though...)
We were due to meet our contact, Dimitri, at the stage door of the Mariinsky Theatre at 10 40, a little before company class. We were also lined up to meet an English Dancer, Alexander Parish, who had joined the ballet company in January, of whom more later. On the button of 10 40 a small man with a beaming smile appeared - could this be the fabled Russian leprechaun, we wondered? - and introduced himself as Dimitri. His full title is International Projects Co-ordinator and Ballet Interpreter, but as we were to find out later, his talents far exceed his job description. He speaks several languages, including Greek and Arabic and he regularly performs as an actor with one of the great theatre companies in St. Petersburg. After much form-filling (thank-goodness it was down to Dimitri to do the paperwork; the visa entry form was enough for us) we were ushered into the labyrinthine world of backstage Mariinsky.
Part of the discipline of being a professional ballet dancer is attending class every day - usually in the morning. It is the preparation for everything that is to follow - rehearsals and performances. Since the company is huge (240 dancers altogether, although at least half are on tour at any given time) there is more than one company class each day, with some devoted to the girls and the others to the guys. We were to watch girls' class, given by Natalia Spizena.
In class, you're seeing dancers stripped of any vestige of artifice. It's the equivalent of watching people brushing their teeth and clipping their toe-nails: it's not something you want everyone to see. I'm going to leave the pictures to speak for themselves. Suffice to say, the Mariinsky has some fabulous dancers.
Stretching:
Barre:
Rehearsal: Lilac Fairy Attendants:
After class, Alexander Parish - Xander - came to collect us and take us on a tour of the theatre. Gail and Sue were already familiar with his story but for me it was something of a revelation.
Born in Hull, Alexander developed an interest in dancing at the age of eight. When he was twelve, he entered White Lodge, the junior section of the Royal ballet School, and joined the company itself in 2005. Xander is not only gifted as a dancer with great good looks and a remarkable physique but at 6' 1 he is one of the tallest male dancers in the ballet world. Despite all this he languished in the corps at the Royal, and might still be there spear-carrying were it not for Yuri Fateev, now Acting Director of the Mariinsky. Yuri was spending a short time coaching the Royal Ballet in 2007 when he spotted Xander and asked him if he would be interested in joining the Mariinsky. Xander didn't take him seriously at first but three years later, here he is. The only English dancer in the company, ever.
Xander:
And it is clear he is thriving. The powers-that-be love him. Within six weeks of landing at St Petersburg airport he was dancing the male lead in Sylphides, the preceding Saturday he had performed the Pas de Trois from Swan Lake in front of Putin - a keen balletomane - and within hours of our meeting he was called to study the roles of Albrecht (Giselle) and Siegfried (Swan Lake).
Since the three of us are all mothers of boys, we quacked around Xander like old ducks, and made immediate plans for further get-togethers while we're here in St. Petersburg.
The Mariinsky Theatre is in a state of serious disrepair. Goodness knows how no one has broken a leg or done any major damage to themselves. Stone steps lead up and down the many and uneven levels of the theatre and there are metal trunks and scenery stacked in the corridors. Compared to Covent Garden it is a hovel. A beautiful hovel but a hovel nonetheless.
Penny snapped by Xander in front of the Mariinsky
We especially loved seeing the stage and taking in the auditorium from the stage. There's something very romantic about watching the drops and the scenery being put in place in the half-light of a dusty theatre.
Setting up for Sleeping Beauty:
Ready and waiting.
More waiting...
Is this a tutu I see before me?
A cabbage roll and a new headdress, please.
We left the Mariinsky around 2pm with a mission to find a place for lunch. (It was now some six hours since we'd eaten anything, and we were starving - something of an occupational hazard we were discovering.) We remembered passing a restaurant called The Idiot along one of the canal walks, which had been recommended to Gail by Julie Kavanagh (the author of a matchless biography of Nureyev). Sure enough the restaurant was quaint - yet another library setting - with an extensive menu, purely vegetarian. Sue had pancakes with caviar, Gail pancakes with lemon - now, becoming a firm favourite - and I had a crab and avocado salad.
I guess we were making rather a lot of noise because the couple at the table next to us introduced themselves in English. They were English. In fact, Jill turned out to be a Friend of the Mariinsky. Curiouser and curiouser, she and her companion, Norman, were all set to watch class at the Vaganova School the next day, as were we. Now, what are the chances of running into people you've never met in a randomly chosen spot who are set to be with you the next day.
Lunch over and four-o'clock, Gail and I admitted defeat in terms of being-a-fully-paid-up-tourist and returned to the hotel for rest and recuperation.
Sue took in the Kazan Cathedral, the Church on the Spilled Blood (closed) and the Mikhailovsky Gardens (not closed).
Church on the Spilled Blood.
However, our friend, the Energizer Bunny, had run out of battery juice by the evening and opted for room service while Gail and I had a less than magnificent meal in a restaurant near the Mariinsky, Teatro. If you go there, please don't order the chicken risotto. It turned out to be a plate of white rice with a tough old bird laid out on it. (No comparisons, please.)
Night-night.
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