In the last ten years huge enterprises had sprung into being with unbelievable rapidity. Fortunes of millions of rubles appeared out of thin air. Banks, music halls, skating rinks, gorgeous public halls of concrete and glass were built, and in them people doped themselves with music, with the reflections of many mirrors, with half-naked women, with light, with champagne. Gambling clubs, houses of assignation, theaters, pictures houses, amusement parks cropped up like mushrooms.

Alexei Tolstoy, The Road to Cavalry

DECREED A CAPITAL before it was even built, St. Petersburg, Russia, is the product of one man's obsession. Others may have gazed over a massive expanse of swampland, but when Peter the Great looked in the early years of the 18th century – intent on bringing his nation out of the Dark Ages and into the glare of a modern Europe, in the full flower of the Enlightenment – he saw his European capital.

In 2004 it's as if the clock has been restarted, not to 1712, when the city was founded, but to 1914, when Tolstoy penned the above description of the boom years before Red October. Faced with the palaces, the people, the extremes of wealth and poverty, dilapidation and opulence, and the towering statues of Lenin and the famous Bronze Horseman, a visitor can feel caught in the vortex of a time storm.

During the summer's White Nights (late June to mid-August), when the sun virtually never sets on the city, one's sense of the surreal is only compounded. Wandering down Nevsky Prospect at 4 a.m. toward the towering golden spire of the Admiralty in the eternal predawn light, one passes the Church of the Spilled Blood, whose 7,000 square meters of mosaics protect the cobblestones where Czar Alexander II was assassinated, then a beautifully restored pink baroque palace, then the flashing neon signs of a new casino and a park whose wrought-iron gates still feature the once-ubiquitous hammer and sickle.

St. Petersburg is perhaps the best city on Earth for a person suffering from jet lag, especially during the White Nights. The endless appetite for novelty is apparent everywhere – accompanied by an almost erotic mood of pure consumption. And as one wanders among the beer kiosks and all-night cafés on the banks of the canals, the cumulative effect of the city's beauty and the odd daylight hours renders any attempt to adhere to "normal" sleeping patterns futile. You'll find yourself having dinner at midnight before moving on to the Neva River embankments to watch the raising of the bridges that connect the city's 70-odd islands, allowing shipping traffic from the Gulf of Finland to enter.

Farther out of the city center, it's easier to see the havoc 70 years of grinding Soviet-style neglect wreaked on the infrastructure and the psychology of the older generations. The depressing, if not brutal, daily living conditions of the average citizen under the old regime are still represented in the new Russia, as the majority of the population continues to grapple with the meaning of the radical changes the country has endured since 1992.

The new prosperity means many things, some of which exist in stark opposition. A visitor is met with the poverty of pensioners and others who have fallen victim to the collateral damage of exploding markets – as well as an unprecedented opportunity to witness the rebirth of one of the world's most beautiful cities and to see its sights in the best condition they've been for at least a century.

Those interested in overdosing on the opulence of the new (and old) Russia should head to the hydrofoil terminal across from the State Hermitage Museum entrance on the Palace Embankment for the half-hour ride to Peterhof (www.peterhof.org). Visitors can tour the main palace and admire its famous fountains before moving on to the massive gardens and several smaller palaces on the grounds. Stop to ponder Peter's Great Eagle Cup, from which anyone who violated his "house rules" was compelled to chug 1.25 liters of fortified wine in a single draught, then enjoy lunch in a restored pavilion while being serenaded by the fountain waters and a harpsichordist in period dress.

Returning to the terminal opposite the Hermitage, head to Yusupov Palace (Naberezhnaya Reki Moiki 94, 812-314-8893), home of princes and site of Rasputin's murder. Today one can tour the palace and then repair to the on-site restaurant for pelemeni (Russian dumplings) stuffed with bear or reindeer meat, before catching a concert in the former private theater of the Yusupov family.

While some might see a greater need in the renovation of the city's infrastructure, or the educational system now left rudderless without party ideology, millions are being poured into the renovation of such palaces. Meanwhile, the local government recently announced a policy authorizing their privatization. "If no one owns it, then it will not be taken care of," says Dr. Lena Guretskaya, head of international relations at the North-West State Technical University. Hardly a ringing endorsement, her statement seems to demonstrate resignation to a potential lesser of evils.

Matt Markovich writes Bottle Rockets for the Bay Guardian's Food and Drink section. This is the first in a series of columns based on his recent travels through eastern Europe.

If you go

Reading A Traveller's Companion to St. Petersburg, edited by Laurence Kelley (Interlink Books), has essays, memoirs, poetry, literature, and anecdotes from notable figures throughout St. Petersburg's history.

Lodging tip Hotel rooms can be astronomically priced, and if you plan to stay for any length of time, apartments are a better option. www.petersburg-lodging.com.