Must See Before You Die: The Church of Spilled Blood, St. Petersburg, Russia.

Words cannot even begin to give this church justice. This magnificent creation is a blessing to the eyes. A lolly shop on steroids, architectural overachievement, Hansel and Gretel’s idea of heaven, other worldly. No matter how you look at it, it is a joy. The first time I ever saw it I stood gob smacked in awe with excited butterflies in my tummy. This feeling never faded and I continued to be overcome with emotion every time I walked passed during my week in St. Petersburg.

I am a sucker for onion domes. Any kind of church with onion domes makes my heart skip a beat and luckily Russia is the King of the dome but the mother of all domes, to me, is the Church of Spilled Blood. I know this is not a fair judgement to make without having seen St. Basil’s but I wasn’t fortunate enough to make it to Moscow so have consequently put that on my wish list for next time. But sorry St. Basil’s, The Church of Spilled Blood already has cemented a special place in my heart. If the outside gets you giddy you can only begin to image the pure beauty of the intricate mosaic tiling inside.

The peculiar name of the church serves as a tribute to the assassination of Tsar Alexander the II, who was the Emperor of the Russia from 1855-1881. The location of the church is where he was killed and construction began two years later, under the reign of Alexander the III as a dedication to his late father. It is also known as “The Church of the Saviour on Spilled Blood” and “Cathedral of the Resurrection of Christ”. It took an astounding twenty four years to complete. Sadly, during the Russian Revolution the church was badly damaged and after the war it was even used as a vegetable warehouse and the cheeky nickname “Saviour of Potatoes” was coined. In 1970 restoration began to take place and finally twenty-seven years later in 1997 it re-opened.

It’s odd to think that something aesthetic can have such an overwhelming, emotional affect but it does and it is an amazing feeling, as if time is standing still, to just stand gazing at this wonder.

- BELLA