ABOARD THE VIKING SURKOV, Russia — The first Russian phrase we learned, only minutes after boarding the charter bus that picked us up at the St. Petersburg airport, was "yellow blue bus."

Say it fast, our guide told us, and it sounds like "I love you" in Russian, sort of.

Our bus passed dreary apartment blocks before rolling across the Neva River on a suspension bridge, from which we had our first glimpse of the Viking Surkov — our floating home for the Waterways of the Czars cruise, a 10-day adventure taking us from St. Petersburg to Moscow.

Onboard, charismatic young cruise manager Benjamin guided us through the do's and don'ts of shipboard life.

He mentioned some of the quirks of the Surkov, built in the '80s in East Germany and refurbished in 2001. The cabin showers, for starters. Except in deluxe cabins and suites, the shower is a spray nozzle that's also the faucet. To shower, one removes it from the sink and hangs it from a wall hook. The spray floods the small bathroom and everything in it.

"You will get used to it," Benjamin said. And I did, sort of.

The 199-passenger Surkov, named for the late Russian poet Alexei Surkov, is one of three virtually identical Viking ships plying the lakes, rivers and canals linking St. Petersburg and Moscow in 10- or 11-day voyages starting from either city. But they are not everyone's samovar of tea.

Standard cabins are small and basic — no TV, no room service. Passengers won't find Internet or e-mail, a casino, bingo, a Broadway-style show or a fancy spa (only a hairdresser and masseuse). The five-deck Surkov has two bars (a little band plays in one) and a library where movies are shown.

Passengers are assigned to one of two dining rooms with identical menus; to encourage mixing and mingling, there is no assigned seating. Generally, my meal companions were American — this is an English-speaking cruise — but I met Brits, Aussies and Canadians. Most were mature travelers.

This cruise is less about R&R and more about seeing and learning. Each cruise includes several days in St. Petersburg and Moscow, using the ship as a hotel.

Our guides, five Russian women, stayed with us the entire trip. They spoke excellent English and were well versed in their country's politics, economy, culture and history.

Centuries of that often violent, always fascinating, history came to life as we explored the cities, towns and villages along the 1,180 miles of waterways.

"My job is to see that you do not defect," Natasha, the guide on my bus, joked on the first full day of the trip as we drove from our St. Petersburg dock to Pushkin. There, we would tour Catherine Palace, the czars' and empresses' suburban getaway.

Among those who called it home was Catherine the Great, a formidable woman said to have taken a dozen lovers along the path to becoming empress in 1762 by deposing Peter III, her loutish, imbecile husband.

As our bus dodged cars on traffic-clogged streets, Natasha said, "In Russia, drivers take traffic signs as mere suggestions."

BAROQUE DAZZLE

It was a chilly, gray September morning as we stood outside the palace, waiting for the golden gate to open. As we gazed in awe at the blocks-long powder-blue Baroque facade frosted in white and gold, Natasha asked, "You understand now why we had our revolution, yes?" (The last czar, Nicholas II, lived in nearby Alexander Palace until his forced abdication during the 1917 Russian Revolution.)

Outside, the Catherine Palace Museum Orchestra, in red-trimmed gray military coats, played "The Loveliest Night of the Year." Members were hawking their compact discs.

Inside, we slipped black booties over our shoes before entering the enormous Great Hall, all mirrors and gilt and crystal.

The 18th-century palace, badly damaged and looted by the Germans during World War II, has been restored to its former splendor with help from Germany. The piece de resistance is the Amber Room, its paneled walls inlaid with amber of many colorations. It is an $11 million re-creation of the one the Nazis dismantled and carted off.

The stolen original was installed in Germany's Konigsberg Palace but later packed away to protect it from Allied bombing. It has never been found and may have been destroyed. Conspiracy theories abound, as do tales of curses afflicting those who have tried to find it.

Catherine Palace was a gift from Peter the Great to his low-born mistress, the "Russian Cinderella," who became his wife and, after his death in 1725, Empress Catherine I (not to be confused with Catherine the Great, whose reign began 37 years later). They produced six illegitimate children, then married and had five more. A daughter, one of only two children to survive childhood, became Empress Elizabeth I.

Back in St. Petersburg, we drove past a nondescript former City Hall. Outside was a statue of Vladimir Lenin. His right hand points the way to communism. "Today," Natasha said, "we say he's signaling for a taxi."

In the cathedral at the Peter and Paul Fortress, we saw the tombs of the ill-fated Nicholas II, Empress Alexandra and three of their five children. The remains were moved here in 1998, 80 years after the family was slain by Bolshevik revolutionaries.

Despite DNA tests that left little doubt, some Russians are not convinced these are the Romanov remains. The two children whose remains have never been found were the 13-year-old heir to the throne, Alexei, and the Grand Duchess Maria.

But some people prefer to believe that it is Maria who's interred here, that her fabled sister Anastasia escaped the assassins.

"Forget about all the fairy tales," Natasha said. "Anastasia is buried here."

GRANDEUR AND ART

The next day, I joined the optional excursion to Peterhof, the summer palace built by Peter the Great to rival France's Versailles. I'd visited before and remembered it as grander; it seemed to need a bit of sprucing up. But the Great Cascade of dazzling water effects and the gilded bronze figures in the gardens are something to behold.

There were no disappointments at the Winter Palace, which houses the State Hermitage Museum. It was stunning from the minute we ascended the sweeping state staircase. Inside, we feasted on Old Masters and French Impressionists. Outside, hawkers were selling "McLenin" T-shirts emblazoned with golden arches.

As we set sail from St. Petersburg on our third day, life aboard settled into a pleasant routine: bountiful buffet breakfasts, lectures about the imperfect democracy that is modern-day Russia, and optional vodka and caviar tastings.

The two Thomases, our German executive chef and our Austrian sous chef, turned out good continental meals with Russian touches. One night we had dark, gamey Siberian reindeer.

As we glided along heavily forested river banks, we passed through locks and saw small villages of wooden houses.

Of our four port calls during six days on the waterways, I most enjoyed the cold and windy island of Kizhi in Lake Onega. It's an open-air museum of wooden buildings, most moved from other villages. The remarkable Church of Transfiguration, built here in 1714, has 22 cupolas faced with silvery aspen.

On our fifth day of sailing, we reached Yaroslavl, a city of 600,000 on the Volga. First stop was the icon-rich 1650 Church of Elijah the Prophet, where we were treated to an a cappella rendition of "Song of the Volga Boatmen" by six black-clad conservatory students.

We saw several newlywed couples emerging from flower-decked cars. Larissa explained that, after saying their vows, newlyweds walk to the Park of Peace to place flowers at the eternal flame honoring the city's World War II dead. "Every family in Russia was affected," she said.

One day, we disembarked at Uglich, population 37,000 — the city to which 2-year-old prince Dmitri, the young epileptic son of Ivan the Terrible, was banished with his mother after Ivan's death in 1584. At age 9, the boy was found with his throat cut, perhaps on orders from Boris Godunov, de-facto czar during the reign of Dmitri's brother, Feodor. This started Russia's "time of troubles," and things didn't settle down until the first Romanov czar came to power in 1613.

Not far from the Church of St. Demetrius on the Blood, which sits on the site where the body of Dmitri (who was canonized) was found, stood a booth where, for 100 rubles (about $3.50), tourists could dress as a czar or empress and be photographed.

MURALS AND MCDONALD'S

We were welcomed to Uglich's huge open-air market by an accordionist playing "The Star-Spangled Banner." Vendors were selling lacquerware boxes, fur hats (shake before buying, we were warned, to see what critters fall out) and George W. Bush and Bill Clinton nesting dolls. (The dolls also come in Harry Potter or Osama bin Laden versions.)

When we reached Moscow's North Terminal early one afternoon, so many river cruisers were moored that we had to walk through one to reach land.

A 45-minute bus ride took us into central Moscow, where we passed a Pizza Hut and tony shops. At Pushkin Square, which young Muscovites call McDonald's Square, we saw Moscow's first McDonald's, opened in 1990. "We were so proud of it," said Nina, our guide, "as if it was the Bolshoi Theater." Today, Moscow has 50 McDonald's.

We saw the park where Dostoevsky once strolled, the street on which Tolstoy lived.

Later, we were whisked through the Moscow Metro (subway), a veritable underground museum with murals, frescoes and chandeliers.

In Red Square, where today rock concerts are held, I was astonished at the changes to GUM, the once merchandise-challenged state store of the grim, gray Soviet era. Today, it houses cafes and international designer boutiques. Lenin must be turning in his tomb across the square.

On our last day, we toured the Armory at the Kremlin, the walled heart of old Moscow. We had too little time inside, and the hordes of tourists made it impossible to see or hear much.

I did get a peek at the fabled Faberge eggs and a caftan that belonged to Peter II, who died of smallpox at age 15 on the eve of his wedding. His clothing is well preserved, we were told, because for years, people were afraid to touch it.

All in all, Waterways of the Czars is a well-organized adventure, although some days on the water verged on the monotonous. As a Canadian passenger said, it's "a little like crossing our prairies by train."

Still, most passengers seemed to agree that for the cost, it was a wonderful experience.