The Grand Palace at Peterhof was designed to be the centerpiece of Peter the Great's "Russian Versaille". Around 1720, the Tsar gave up on attempts to establish his court at Strelna, mainly because the boggy ground proved entirely unsuitable for the canals and fountains that he envisioned.
Moving his attentions further west to Peterhof, the Tsar began to draw up his own plans for the grounds and palace. Work had already begun on a modest palace, designed by Jean-Baptiste Le Blond, in 1714, and that building was completed in 1721.
Our mission was to visit Peterhof, the town of palaces, fountains and parks ordered by Peter the Great.
He wanted to put Versailles in France in the shade.
The day, sadly, ended up in a succession of frustrating queues starting at 7.30am.
There was one of almost an hour to get through immigration, not the welcome to Russia many expect and there were grumbles in many languages as we were hereded, no other word for it, from our cruise ship into what was nothing more than an advance factory unit.
Officers eventually stared at you to check your picture in this characterless dockside shed and there were no pleasantries. One fellow cruiser was denied entry as he only had 45 days left on his passport so beware.
Thankfully, it was not raining and patience was tested as people queue jumped.
A 55-minute bus ride followed through flat, uninteresting countryside followed then we practiced the art of standing in line again, despite having tickets, outside Peterhof for more than 45 minutes.
More was to follow. We queued inside a stuffy lobby as the corridors in the palace were packed, then queued to get into the toilet where you were supposed to dry your hands on a dirty cloth.
Then we queued again to enter the first part of the tour.
We'd been up since before six am and we did not start walking around the gold-festooned building until nearly 10.45am.
Once inside, a series of stern guides moved us on and any attempt to stand and consider the quality of workmanship was frowned upon.
No pictures are allowed and this should have been articulated before we left the bus as many of us took their cameras. Underwehlmed by the whole thing comes to mind.
Peterhof lies on the southern shore of The Gulf of Finland, 22 miles from St Petersburg.
Granted it is busy. Ivor our guide said 10 million tourists visit every year, but this was stress tourism with a capital S and the experience takes away from the spectacle.
Fellow cruisers who visited 24-hours later complained that they were rushed through. We were unlucky, perhaps, but that is as it was on the day.
The palace was built at the beginning of the 18th-century and is the most glamorous of all the residences of the Russian Tsars.
The well-manicured estate - which was the best part of the trip for me -took years to build and it covers seven parks and more than 20 summer palaces and pavilions.
Peter, who had a wicked sense of humour, actually designed the 300-acre park and fountains, including the hand-triggered trick water attractions.
Basically, if the operator in his small green box doesn't like you then you get wet. Several irritating children got lucky. They might not have stayed dry if my hand had been on the trigger.
Also, taking pictures of the fountains is for those with elbows as you have to knock people out of the way for the best spots and when you have reached your goal then others elbow their way in.
Scrum down is the best way to describe it but one determined selfie-taker would not be moved despite protestations.
The rain began to fall as we made our way back to the bus for the tedious journey back to the dockside. The pulse was not racing.
At least the immigration girl smiled when I could not give the name of the ship I was on. Senile moment.
The word Norwegian got me back on board, thankfully.