Playing tourist in Russia can be an enlightening experience, as my friend Jeremy and I found out when we attempted to be hosts and guides to our relatives. With the jaundiced eye of long experience, I often take for granted some of the things that can amaze the newcomer.My brother Bill was struck by the gloomy air of pedestrians. "Why do they all look so unhappy?" he asked. I just smirked -- we were just on our way in from the airport, and I was sure that a few days of cold showers, crowded metro cars, and diesel smog would tip him off. I was right -- he hasn't asked that question since.Jeremy's father came up against Moscow reality on his first weekend, when he innocently asked where he could get the Sunday New York Times. When Jeremy and I exchanged incredulous stares, he protested, "Well, this is a major world capital, isn't it?" We really got a kick out of that one.The problem is that Moscow looks just like a normal city, but every once in a while you realize that you are on the other side of the looking glass. Some of us are used to it, but it can be a discomfiting experience for the neophyte.Even Stan, almost an expert after a whopping four months in Moscow, came home outraged one day at a scene he had witnessed: A work crew on Leningradskoye Shosse, at 9:00 AM, was passing around a bottle of champagne. One of the group was already so unsteady he had to prop himself up on the jackhammer -- which happened to be operating at the time.I don't understand why he was so surprised -- after driving around on these roads for years, I have more difficulty imagining a sober repair crew than a tipsy one. Why do they spend all day cutting asymmetrical holes out of the road surface? Champagne is as good an explanation as any.Jeremy and I bravely set out for St. Petersburg with our charges in tow. Although the northern Venice is a bit easier on the psyche than dark hulking Moscow, it is not without its pitfalls.We had made arrangements to rent an apartment for the four days we were there. When we arrived, the plumber was still seeing to pipes. That didn't bother us too much -- until he left, that is. He had cleverly repaired the bathroom sink so that it was no longer attached to the wall, the pipes didn't join, and all the water poured out onto the rug. We had endless fun with that one. The toilet didn't flush, but why quibble? There was a water heater, and we were blissful at the thought of hot showers after a week of arctic baths at home.The heater did indeed work -- it rendered scalding water for about 20 seconds, followed by five minutes of icicles. Jeremy termed it a "contrast shower" -- maybe a new Petersburg invention.Another thing that galled our visitors was the double pricing system -- a visit to the Hermitage Museum, for example, costs 300 rubles for Russians and 16,000 rubles for foreigners. I must confess that I bought the cheaper tickets for myself most of the time: My 15 years of studying the language has finally paid off. But all the rough spots were ironed out during a breathtaking ride on the rivers and canals of St. Petersburg during the longest night of the year. We chugged out into the Neva as the sun streaked red behind the Peter and Paul Fortress, and you could almost see the ghosts of Gogol and Dostoevsky skulking through the alleys. What's a cold shower compared to all that?