Despite having a double room, which feels safer, we sleep badly (hardly at all until 5am), suffering from mosquitoes and the cold. Unusually for a hostel we have an en-suite toilet, but it only flushes with a bucket full of water! We wake up tired, but have a long day today as we're leaving Russia late tonight. We decide to have a lie-in to compensate, and get up reluctantly at 9.30am to get breakfast before it closes at 10am.

Breakfast is as yesterday. The cereal looks like honey nut loops but tastes like cardboard, though you can make it soggy with sour milk. There is some improvement to the orange juice today in that it's not fizzy. The bread is a bit less stale but the cheese still rank. We talk to Iain's Norwegian ex-roommate. He is startled to hear our itinary; this seems to be a common reaction, which is worrying. I think the Russian woman serving breakfast hates us all: privileged Westerners.

We pack and leave at 10.30am for the train station. Our destination, Пушкинская Metro is very ornate, with carvings and statues. Unfortunately no photos are allowed. The Metro was one of Stalin's pet projects, and its fantastically efficient as well as artistically stunning. We are starting to get the hang of navigation (well, strictly speaking, Iain is) just as we leave, which is typical of our trips. We follow the picture to left luggage, but have no idea when it closes. I attempt to translate that we want to pick up our bags at 10pm. Fingers crossed.

[The Cathedral of Our Lady of Kazan]

There's a McDonald's opposite the station, and the temptation is too great. I decide that milkshake is good for protein. We are grateful to find that it has an English copy of the menu. This then has to be compared to the Russian version so the server can figure out what we want. Chocolate and vanilla shakes. Yum, a nice change from water/coke. It's all too easy to stay and relax in such a familiar environment.

[Hermitage, as seen from the General Staff Building]

Today's destination is The Hermitage. This is a collection of five Baroque palaces built around 200 years ago by/for Catherine The Great, housing the world's biggest art collection.

We catch the Metro as close as we can to the centre, then walk down Невский Проспект again. It's getting towards lunchtime, so we stop at a cafe near The Hermitage. I'm hungry and tired, starting to feel the lack of protein now. Iain manages to communicate the idea of being vegetarian, and gets something with fish in (whoops) which he eats, and a pastry with jam in as a substitute. It's reasonable but not great - I am longing for a decent meal. Whilst Iain is being served, a guy at table next to me asks if we're English. I talk a little to him and find out that he's a Chechnyn student studying here. I am friendly, but don't want to say anything political in case it's offensive. It must be hard to be here, and I want to sympathise. He gets up to go to the counter as Iain returns with our food. The Chechnyn comes back and shyly hands us two big bars of Cadbury's Fruit and Nut! We are blown away by his sudden and unexpected kindness and generosity, we stutter our thanks and wish him well as he leaves with his friend. It's a strange, touching and memorable encounter. We later find out that Chechnyans are known for their generosity; maybe he wanted us to think well of his land.

[Front of the Winter Palace]

We head for The Hermitage at 1.30pm, somewhat later than intended. There's a lengthy queue; its busier than we were told it would be in the afternoon. We can't work out a better idea, so join the queue. I estimate that around 98% of the queue are Russian. Interesting - not many areas of Russia that can afford holidays, where are they all from? A woman comes up and offers a private tour in English, at 25 Euros each; very expensive! We decline, and Iain tries in vain to find information, but the only thing ascertainable in English is the closing time. I walk along the queue hunting out English speakers; the Americans I find know as little as we do. Everyone is heading into one revolving door but I'm not sure if we're in the right queue – we've been told there's an alternative entrance. My foot's hurting a bit so

[Winter Palace (detail)]

I sit whilst Iain queues. As we enter, we see signs for a 2.30pm English tour. Iain stays in the queue (it's a queue for a queue) while I investigate. After gesticulating at several Russians, I find the tour office, with no queue. We can join for 200 rubles each, which is cheaper than the 350 Rubles entry. I query but this is apparently correct. I grab Iain before he pays - with about three people in front of him. We leave queue we have stood in pointlessly for an hour. There must be another way to have got into that door. We return to the tour office, are given some paper and sent to cashier number five. The tour is due to start in two minutes! The cashier (with queue) down the corridor stamps our paper, takes the relevant money and sends us back to tour office, who do more stamping, checking and writing - why?! Amazingly pointless bureaucracy. We head for entrance (queue), to find that we can't take bag our in. We're now late for the tour. I enter to waylay the group whilst Iain negotiates a cloakroom (queue) - there are a corridor full of them, all equally unco-operative. He finally gets back with seconds to spare, the group of eight are all waiting for us. There is a diminutive Russian guide - very small and delicate, who speaks excellent English. We will get a 1 ½ hour whistle-stop tour of the basics, then we can explore on our own. My foot is already very sore and the bones are grinding (nice).

We've seen a film of the Hermitage on TV. It doesn't prepare us for the reality - impressively opulent and ornate. Every inch of every ceiling and floor is decorated. There are huge marble staircases, leading into enormous halls. It's just fantastic - gilded, colourful, detailed, stunning. We tour around the main art rooms – French, Dutch, Spanish, Italian. Anyone in pre-18th century art has a relatively large percentage of their remaining works here. 30% of Michaelangelo's, 1/6 of Da Vinci's. With name after name we keep spotting famous pictures; it's strangely surreal. We speed through rooms of Renoir's on temporary display which the museum has only just admitted to owning after keeping them in hiding for years. Most collections were evacuated in the Nazi siege of 1941 and during a fire in the 1990s. Lots of rooms have been restored.

There are huge vases of malachite (1m+ diameter?) everywhere – I count at least eight! Every room has another amazing collection. Most are the second or third best collections of that nationality in the world. It's absolutely jaw-dropping. One of my favourite pieces is a large clock, in a case about 1 cubic metre. It's a solid gold peacock (with individually cast tail-feathers) with a crow, owl and cricket which move by different time scales. The museum is very busy, with lots of tour groups in various languages, mostly European. This place makes other art museums look insignificant in comparison, it's a shame its so hard to visit, I feel everyone should see it. Aside from all this splendour, the toilets are absolutely minging.

In our tour group are two Brits who didn't queue; they just walked in the exit door and onto the tour! It's a good idea but they're braver than us and I think I would feel guilty if I hadn't queued. Post-tour, we sit and rest our painfully achy feet.

The copy of The Hanging Gardens of Babylon is being renovated, which is a shame. However, it's pouring down outside anyway. We look for the Far Eastern rooms but they're closed. We walk around the Chinese and English sections instead. There are many more rooms to see (300+ rooms) but unfortunately we're just too tired, which is a shame.

We leave at 4.30pm to get a boat ride (aiming to sit down). It's too wet and they're all closed. We get drenched walking, particularly Iain, who didn't bring a fleece out. Walking through a park, we see baby bears tethered to trees for photos, which is lousy.

We're too wet, tired and achy to tour, so decide to eat a slow dinner. We're on holiday, after all! I want decent meal with protein. We opt for an Italian off Невский Проспект, as recommended by a guidebook. It's a nice place, with good food but at English prices. I have spinach cannelloni and Iain has a calzone. There's some lovely bread and oil. The bill including half a bottle of wine is £20 (ouch). We hang around for a while to keep dry until the rain eases off. The best bit - clean toilets, woo-hoo!

I am surprised to find such high prices, and wonder how much over budget we'll go. Russia for Russians is cheap (the Metro is 8 rubles / 16p for as long as your journey) but it's easy for tourists to get ripped off if you don't check taxis etc. There is dual pricing on most entrance fees, for Russians and foreigners.

We arrive at the station for 7pm, with a 4-hour wait but nothing we want to do in the evening and no energy to do it. Thankfully the left luggage is still open. The station is a large international one, covering many countries, but with minimal facilities, (metal) chairs and a (closed) coffee bar. There are lots of soldiers (travelling, not guarding). There are a few dozen people around, mainly Russians, a couple of backpackers, lots of random piles of luggage. I manage to sleep for half an hour and Iain writes the diary. We read about Tallinn, then get bored and cold. A Scandinavian couple argue with a ticket booth and shout until they eventually get tickets. When the platform is announced at 10.30pm we head straight for it. The train is unlocked just as we arrive - hurrah!

It's an Estonian train, and is clean and pleasant. We're in a 4-berth second class cabin which I booked from the UK (through an agency for simplicity, and with hindsight is was the right decision). The carriage has an attendant who speaks a little English. We grab the two lower berths, as I have read about someone whose luggage was stolen from top bunk storage - in bottom bunks no-one can get your bags without physically lifting your bed. Two Italian male backpackers arrive for the top bunks and go straight to bed. It's hard to get changed with three men around and the toilets are locked (they don't want to dump waste in an urban area).

We try to sleep, but are asked for passports after twenty minutes. I hope this is all, but no! A woman returns with them around 12.30am. Between then and 4am at least seven people (I lost count) knock and demand passports/luggage/to check the cabin. It's insane, and becomes a joke as we exhaustedly await the next knock. Since we are in the bottom bunks, we are in charge of opening door and have to keep getting up. Every half hour someone comes, a variety of Russians and Estonians. At least the Estonians speak some English. Can't sleep, fed up, v disturbing, v tired. At 4am we get about three hours light sleep.