Parks and a Little Recreation

Because the winters are long and the recession hit hard, St. Petersburg residents take every opportunity to be outside when it’s warm and going for walks is free. In September, my younger aunt, Anya and I went to two local parks. Elagin Island is entirely occupied by a park and Elagin Palace. The island is surrounded by nice neighborhoods and is a summer favorite. You can rent bikes, rollerblades, boats, and paddleboats. There are a couple of small/open air cafes, a little zoo, an archery range, and a pay-toilet. The tip of the island, with two freshly painted white lions, gives you a glimpse of the Bay of Finland.

Park Ekatirhof is different in that it’s become surrounded with a more industrialized neighborhood, which makes it less of a destination in and of itself. It’s fairly large and at its furthest end they even have horses. The park also has a few rides. The gate to the little “amusement park” was open and no one was there, so Anya and I went in. I think it was off-season, although the building for the keeper had the lights on. The rides were a gem, old Soviet era merry-go-rounds, swings, a kids’ rollercoaster, and a mini-course for mini-go-carts.

Seeing things that reminded me of my childhood made me want to relive it a little. So Anya and I got on one of the swings. These aren’t your motor-powered Six Flags swings; here you use the physics principle of taking turns squatting. Since Russians are good at physics, Anya and I got pretty high up in the air—perfect timing for someone to come and start yelling at us to get off the swings immediately. We responded that we had to stop the swing first, which we did.

When we got down the apparent groundskeeper approached us—middle-aged, short, fidgety, with a mouth full of gold caps which he flashed at us during all of his hurried yelling with a detectible and angry accent. Didn’t we know that we weren't supposed to use the rides, that we had to pay for them? We explained that the gate was open and the ticket booth, closed, and there were no signs or rules posted. He yelled that the gate had been closed and that we’d broken in and had to pay for the rides, or that he was going to call the cops. He’d actually closed and locked it while we were on this swings. We said call the cops, show us the price list, give us a receipt and we’ll pay. This went on for about five minutes until he finally unlocked the gate and let us go.

At this point it was almost dark so Anya and I left the park. We talked about it being clear that they guy had messed up, left the rides open, was angry that he’d failed to scare us into giving him cash. But we also admitted that during this, each of us had looked for holes in the fence where we could get out and run.

Where I Live (3 of 3): Apartment

So I guess it would be fair to live up to expectations and tell you where I actually live and wrap up this topic. Currently I am staying in the apartment owned by my grandmother and my mom. It's in a Stalinist apartment building--meaning that it's sturdy and has fairly high-ceilings (3 meters, to be exact). In this picture, the balcony on the fourth-floor on the right, is ours.

Russians seem to be more aware of square meterage. At about a 100 sq. m., this apartment is fairly large: two bedrooms, living room, dining room, kitchen, bath, toilet, and balcony. While all of this may mean little out of context, few average Russians have apartments of this size. It may seem luxurious with two people living here now (grandma and me), but when I was little, there were six of us living here. Basically, apartment space in St. Petersburg is at a premium and this shapes social interactions and views of privacy: much less likely to be invited to someone's house, house parties are rare, etc. Oh, and there will be all sorts of stuff crammed into small spaces. This old stuff sometimes makes me feel like I am truly back in the USSR--but since the apartment is not mine, I just deal with it.

Positives about this apartment include that within a one block radius, there are all sorts of public transportation that take me to most parts of the city (or at least to the nearest subway-stop), nearest subway stop is a twenty minute walk (a little far by SPB standards, but ok), within a two block radius are eight grocery stores (including two 24-hr ones), the harbor and park are two blocks away (with the sea wind keeping the air cleaner), and the neighborhood is not overly busy or dirty. If I had to give a Twin Cities point of reference for the proximity and cleanliness, I would use Uptown. On the map, the red dot and square (bottom left) are basically where we live on Vasilievsky Island (the city-center is at the center/bottom right-edge of the map).

We also have a nice courtyard and live across the street from a quiet (!) BFA-Actors dorm (those who know that I worked with the BFA-London program should appreciate this fact).

Some random observations that I would like to share about Russian apartments are that: a separate toilet and bathroom give an apartment more value (over a combined bathroom), not all buildings have elevators (ours does), almost all heating is central, wallpaper is considered nicer than painted walls, few people have carpeted floors, most appliances are smaller (less space) and dryers are uncommon.

Where I Live (2 of 3): Neighborhood

In order to understand why St. Petersburg neighborhoods (of which there are 18 in the city proper) are they way that they are, you have to understand the Russian housing system.
In Soviet Russia, housing essentially owned you. You, along with some family, and maybe some strangers, were "assigned" to an apartment ("kommunalkas" were and are apartments shared by several families, with a communal kitchen, bathroom, hallway). As city populations (and individual families) grew, residents could be assigned to housing in newer block-like apartment buildings. Think of Cedar-Riverside in Minneapolis. Think of the literal meaning of Einstürzende Neubauten. Some Soviet neighborhoods were built thematically to create housing for workers at a specific factory near-by. Or, for example, the area serviced by the Akademicheskaya subway station was the neighborhood in which many academics were housed. This has had an effect on the social-class that lives in those neighborhoods now. Generations of prolies tend to produce, you guessed it, more prolies. Bask in the USSR, everything was state-owned.

Then, the state collapsed. In the 1990's, housing was privatized. Essentially, residents were given the ability to own the apartments or rooms in which they were living. Many people still live in those apartments to this day. Many younger adults don't move out until they move in with someone. Owners in apartments generally only pay utilities. When people buy an apartment, they can change their residency, or be "assigned" to that apartment. It is preferable to own rather than to rent. People who rent are either those who move out on their own, or move to the city. Where they rent is largely determined on budget--rent for an entire apartment could be the equivalent of a month's salary.

Simplified--the closer to the center of the city, the more expensive. Although, some wealthier Russians are choosing to live in single-family homes or town-houses outside of the city. A large number of modern and high-class apartments have been built in outer-laying neighborhoods. However, because housing in Russia is expensive to the utmost, there isn't as much freedom to move, or a culture of moving based on a specific cultural affiliation. There also really isn't a long-term lease. Consequently there isn't a cluster of businesses that cater to a specific demographic--there isn't a Chinatown or a hipster neighborhood. Some of the historically worker neighborhoods are classified as "hoods" and it is advised to avoid them at night.

You are assigned to social services (clinic, tax-office, housing authorities, tuburculosis dispensary) in the neighborhood of which you are a resident. Even "sleeper"/commuter neighborhoods have grocery stores, crap-electronics stores, clothing stores, pharmacies, eateries, etc. Most clubs, bars, stores, and entertainment locations are in the center of the city--which can be a drag if you live far or in an area separated by a bridge that gets drawn at night.
This, essentially, is the housing situation in St. Petersburg (and generally in most Russian urban areas).

Where I Live (1 of 3): City

I guess the explanation of my living situation can be broken up into three parts: City, Neighborhood, and Apartment. This is by no means a comprehensive or a historical description, just a few tid-bits that I think may help you place me on a contextual map.

At 4.6 million people, St. Petersburg (SPB), is the second largest city in Russia. About 6 million people live in the vicinity. The metro area is 1439 sq. km, which means that the density is 8,389.5/sq mi. This means that the density of the SPB metro area is greater than that of the New York City metro area. Architecturally, it's quite European, having been founded by Peter the Great in 1703. It's a port city on the Baltic and is Russia's "northern capital." Roughly a six-eight hour drive from Moscow, Helsinki, and Tallinn. The center of the city is a UNESCO World Heritage Cite.

Basically, it's a gorgeous city with a lot of people in a small geographical area and a lot to do--museums, theaters, and lots of parks. There's a huge interest in photography here, which I don't think is coincidental. SPB gets compared to Moscow, a lot--it's inevitable. But I won't go into any detail and will just say that many see the two cities as the only worthwhile cities in Russia. I will let you deduce what comes with this: housing prices, immigration, stratification of society, traffic, pollution, etc. If I was forced to compare SPB to US city, I would choose Boston--sizable, coastal, historical, green, educated, expensive. Except there's more to do here and the pace is quicker.

The city has excellent public transportation and is extremely walkable. However, the central neighborhoods were never built for the amount of traffic they receive. Makes me think of the oldest versions of SimCity, except that you can't plow down historical buildings. (That's a popular topic in itself as the governor is purported to do exactly that). Buildings are not supposed to exceed a certain height (another questionable current topic).

One of SPB's nicknames is "Venice of the North," because of the multitude of canals. Romantic? I always think of Thomas Mann's Death in Venice, where the plague spreads through the canals, but yes. SPB was built as a number of islands on a swamp and the chemically-treated tap water is not recommended for drinking (although you won't get sick like you would in Mexico). Pretty? Sure. A boat-excursion trap for tourists? Undeniably. A way to get stuck far away from home if you miss the bridges being drawn at night? Yeah, that too. More about that in the discussion of neighborhoods.

For some basic info I recommend the Lonely Planet page and good ole Wikipedia. I recommend looking at as many pictures as possible, although they won't be able to convey the feeling of awe you get trying to comprehend that you live in such a gorgeous place.

So this is where I was born and where I am, again, living.

*Population, area, and density numbers from "St. Petersburg in Figures."