A trip to Pskov

Among the cities of Russia, there is one city, coming to which you seem to be traveling through time. You are transported back 10 centuries, touching the living history with your hand. And history here can touch you, embracing you with its ancient fortresses, bell ringing. History looks at you with sad and wise eyes from the frescoed icons painted by Byzantine masters. And the people... There is no rudeness in words or manners here, but there are bright faces and kind help if you ask how to get to this or that interesting place, where to eat, where to walk. This is a magical place – Pskov.
We went there during a cold November vacation.
The drive from St. Petersburg took several hours. We entered Pskov in the late afternoon. The nondescript suburb seemed very ordinary. Country houses, low-rise buildings. Then came the humble Stalinists. And suddenly, deafeningly quickly, a white ancient city stood around.
Whitewashed low single-domed temples, as if rooted into the ground. Nearby are free-standing bell towers, also white, similar to fortress walls.
And here it is – a bridge with a flood of the quiet wide Pskov River, over which European invaders so often crossed, unsuccessfully trying to conquer Pskov year after year, century after century.
And here are the modest gray-white, light-colored stone fortress walls of the Kremlin or the Pskov-style Stern, looking with small loophole eyes.

Good is a fortress, bright and powerful. Like the soul of those people who built it to protect only their lands, and not to take someone else's.
That evening, we only managed to check into a hotel and walk around the Kremlin, catching the quiet rays of the setting sun sliding off the walls onto the embankment and then into the river.

For the first time, the construction of these fortress walls is mentioned in the chronicle from 1337, but it was built a century earlier. Reliable Krom is the social and political center of Pskov. Here, on Veche Square, a veche was gathering. We enter the Kremlin. Not a wide, spacious entrance awaits us, no. That's why the impregnable fortress is not so simple. Through the Trinity Gate we enter a narrow stone corridor or "zahab".

If the enemy came here, and not a friend, then he found himself, as if in captivity, in this stone corridor. Here it was easy to deal with him, bringing down the power of weapons from the fortress walls. Inside is the Annunciation Church and the foundations of those churches that used to be.
Life was in full swing here: the archive, treasury and seals were kept, boyars gathered, who were gathered by the Big Bell of the belfry. There were also crates with food, ammunition, and valuable items of the nobility.

It's like you can hear that bell. Here the Pskov nobility gathered to solve civil and military cases, approve laws, trade agreements, and choose a prince. The prince was both a military commander and in charge of the court, but his power was limited. The Pskov people did not tolerate despots.
We walked around the Kremlin-Krom, and looked up at its walls and turrets, and looked down through narrow loopholes. And we firmly decided to return here the next day for an excursion. Tickets were bought immediately at the ticket office at the exit from the fortress.

On the foggy morning of the next day, we were already wrapped in blankets, waiting for the guide at the Command Chambers.
During the tour, they talked about how the fortress stood since those times and how it lives today. And nowadays, the careful restoration of the cathedral and the strengthening of the walls continue.
A special delight is part of the tour inside the Trinity Cathedral.

In the semi–darkness of its central part, the miracle iconostasis, which has been preserved since the very time when the cathedral was built, goes under the dome and seems to be tearing into the sky. None of the historical storms removed these icons from the walls, did not destroy the gilding. In the first row of the iconostasis, the locally venerated saints, who sanctified this land with their deeds, are still looking at us.

And the Pskov bishops rest in the lower tier.
We had lunch in the refectory at the cathedral.

After such impressions and an invigorating chill, I wanted a rest for the body and relaxation. The Pskov water park with its fragrant cedar steam rooms, a Russian bath and a swimming pool made it possible to do this.
The next day, it was necessary to visit another iconic place in Pskov – the Spaso-Preobrazhensky Mirozhsky Monastery. This is a 12th-century monastery complex, famous for its pre-Mongol frescoes.

We were lucky: the weather was dry. In the rain and fog, the Transfiguration Cathedral does not open its doors. Frescoes are carefully preserved, and dampness can harm them.
When you enter this cathedral, it is no longer ancient Russia, but ancient Byzantium that grows before your eyes: all the walls are covered from top to bottom with frescoes painted by artists invited from Constantinople.
The Akathist was just beginning in another monastery church, the St. Stephen's Church.

Two monks were singing modestly and two women were standing in a tiny room of the monastery temple. We sang, handed over the notes and set off on our way back.