Sunday, January 10, 2010


I've often wondered what happens to other people when they travel. Wherever we go, we're in one of our homes.

The Winter Palace

In St. Petersburg, it's the Winter Palace. We don't like it there all that much, it's very big and formal. And dark. It doesn't feel much like home, so we only go there when we have a state occasion. It was built in the days of Peter the Great, who first made this part of Russia the capital instead of Moscow.

This is us at the Winter Palace at the opening of the Duma years ago. I was only 5:

Our Train

Mama and Papa always bring us everywhere. We have our own train. Zhilik tells us that the trains in Russia are a much wider gauge than the trains in Europe, so a train car can be almost like a room. Our train has bedrooms for all of us, a dining room, a parlor, a study for Papa and a boudoir for Mama, plus rooms for all the maids of honor and guards who accompany us.

Here's Alexei and Papa with the generals on our train:


Peterhof is a little outside of St. Petersburg, and we're often there in the summer. It has fabulous gardens and fountains. We love to play in them. I was born in Peterhof.

This is a picture of Olga and Tatiana in front of the palace:

That's probably enough pictures for the moment. I'll save Livadia for tomorrow. It's my favorite place to be. It's where we go for the summer holidays in the Crimea.

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