A lot of the ports we visit are little pieces of paradise, with something fantastic to see around every corner. Some though, are just unusual. Vladivostok is…well…it’s as if someone has left a photograph too long in the sun, leaving the colors to fade and blend and wash away until there is nothing left but a water color of what was.
After nearly twelve straight days at sea (counting the one port day we had when we couldn’t go ashore), we were grateful for any sight of land. There were those who claimed they would bolt down the gangway for shore were it not for the immigration standing guard at the top of the ramp. But when we reached the end of that gangway and made our way past the ever-present hawkers (who seem to be at every gangway, all over the world) selling Russian dolls and emblazoned magnets – we found ourselves at a loss as to where to turn. Not because there was so much to see, but because of that strange washed-out, frozen-in-time feeling. It left you going ‘okay, I’m here…now what?”
The city must have been grand at one point, as grand as a very obviously military city can be, and you can tell they’re in the midst of rebuilding. It would be interesting to come back here in a few years time, when the bridge is completed so that it spans the whole harbor (right now it’s still only half built, and the two sides reach for each other like estranged lovers, unable to touch), and the cobblestones have been completely laid down. You can tell it will be a different city in a few years time. For now though, the only things that remain polished are the military statues in the square, which stand at odds with the children’s kites that provide the only splash of bright color against the grey. This is what we were they proclaim, This is what built us.
It’s quite sobering really.
Not every port can be a paradise, not every port can be a Grand Turk, a Margareta-ville, a Luxor or a Jordan – but sometimes the ones that aren’t? Are the most intriguing of all…