Category Archives: VISITOR’S GUIDE to KALININGRAD

An Englishman at the Dreadnought Kaliningrad

Bar Drednout [Dreadnought], Kaliningrad

Published: 23 September 2021 ~ An Englishman at the Dreadnought Kaliningrad

Every Jazz lover knows that the best jazz is played in underground basements. Where else would you find a basement? And Kaliningrad’s Dreadnought is one such place.

Billing itself as a ‘legendary English pub’, you would be hard pushed to find a pub like it anywhere in England, but what it most certainly is, is an excellent atmospheric bar-come-music venue and a subterranean supper’s delight, boasting best beers from around the world, including eight permanent and six guest beers on draught.

No need to ask why I was there, then.

An Englishman at the Dreadnought, Kaliningrad

A short walk from Kaliningrad’s Victory Square, down some steps and you are in the Dreadnought. The roomy entrance hall tells you immediately what you can expect. The Union Jack mat, the large wall painting of a gauntlet-covered fist holding a key and a second painting of the eponymous dreadnought battleship, the concrete section walls roughly skimmed with paint: This is a no-frills place, mate; hip, modern, up to date; good music, good beer, young people and me.

Undaunted, I stood on the Union Jack and had my photograph taken and did the same again in front of the dreadnought painting.

Dreadnought’s basement is open plan, but it isn’t exactly. It feels that way because there are no doors, just entrances, so you get the unique ambivalence of airiness whilst sitting in a rabbit warren.

An anteroom immediately in front of the music room enables you to listen to the bands from a distance. The main room, where the bands play, is ‘L’ shaped and divided into three sections by narrowed widths minus doors.

Choice of seats range from high oval tables lined with tall, backed, bar stools on heavy cast-iron bases, low tables with bench seats on either side and, closest to the stage, comfortable-looking captain’s chairs, the sort that swivel nicely and are covered in brown leatherette.

I liked our reserved table. It was one of the tall ones, with high stools on heavy industrial bases. I always like a table where I can sit with my back to the wall. Why not? Look what happened to Wild Bill Hickok!

Mick & Olga Hart Dreadnought Kaliningrad

On the subject of reserved tables, Kaliningrad grows more popular each year, so, if you have a particular place in mind where you want to wine and dine or down a few beers, be advised that you’d best reserve a table or face the possible inconvenience of wandering around from bar to bar ad infinitum. This is particularly true on a Saturday night.

An Englishman at the Dreadnought Kaliningrad

As anybody who follows jazz can tell you, improvisation and spontaneity are highly valued, and I get the impression that Dreadnought knows this. Improvisation and spontaneity have been built into the décor. The basement is basic, real basic, for the walls and the ceiling follows that modern trend where all is exposed and on display: the electrical fittings, wires, heating and ventilation pipes, structural supports and so on. The lighting, even with the many traditional ceiling sockets, is subdued and the industrial-style suspended lamps that dangle over the tables halo the glow with limited dispersal.

Likewise, the interior décor is minimal; its artiness is controlled, aspiring towards the extemporised look, to give that laid-back, unobtrusive but thoroughly engaging appeal.

The British theme, which comes with the dreadnought name, is carried over from the hall into the music room by the further use of Union Jack curtains which, in keeping with the retro theme of the early 20^th century, have worn and distressed stage managed into them.

Principal to the decor in the entertainments room are two large wall paintings. Although in content these are naval associated, the style in which they are painted is distinctly 1940s’ United States Air Force. They are, in fact, nose-art replicas, featuring leggy, stocking-clad, frolicking females, partly dressed in uniform, with flirtatious come-hither looks.

The one nearest to our table had its coquette perched on top of a sharks’ teeth painted torpedo set against a billowing wave with ‘On the Wave’ written across the foam, which I imagine should rightly read ‘on the crest of a wave’. The other had its flirty part-uniformed female draped across the suggestive gun barrels of a dreadnought class destroyer. Both pictures are fun and colourful, although historically neither one, or anything vaguely like them, would have been tolerated by the Royal Navy’s upper echelons or likewise by, and especially by, the Royal Air Force, and as such this type of artwork strictly remains an American idiosyncrasy.

There is yet another room in the Dreadnought’s arsenal, which, if you are unaware of it, you are likely to come across on your way to the toilet. It put me in mind of a typical American bar, where the rooms are long and narrow and the clientele perch on tall bar stools at the front of the serving counter that runs the length of the room. The hubbub, which was busy but not rowdy, the clever lighting and silhouette wall-art of the dreadnought’s heavy guns, coalesced to create an ambience that took me back to those heady days of university campus bars.

Food is served at the Dreadnought, but as we had already eaten at the Greek restaurant El Greco’s, I will make no attempt to comment on either the variety or quality of the food. See the Essential Details section at the end of this post , where you will find the Dreadnought’s website address and the food it has on offer.

I had already drunk beer at El Greco’s but that did not stop me drinking beer at the Dreadnought. My choice of beer this evening was Maisel’s Weisse. It’s a German beer which, from experience, agrees with me, although as I sat there drinking it I could distinctly feel those heavy guns from the Royal Navy’s dreadnoughts bearing down on my fraternisation.

An Englishman at the Dreadnought, Kaliningrad

The Dreadnought hosts different kinds of music but tonight, as I have noted, the stage was set for jazz. My appreciation of jazz is reserved more or less to the emerging and principal swing years of the 1920s to the 1940s. Anything outside of this I tend to regard as background music, some of which I like and some which quite frankly jars. I am pleased to say, however, that Dreadful at the Dreadnought were not performing on the evening of our visit, and all of our party agreed that what we heard we liked.

Another plus in the Dreadnought’s favour is that the music is transmitted at an agreeable volume, meaning that you can hear it, appreciate it and still can hear yourself think and talk. How many times have you been to a music venue where you just can’t wait for each successive number to stop so that you can hold that conversation? I often wonder if some bands don’t pump up the volume to prevent the audience from discussing whether they like the music or not. Personally, I like to listen to music at a volume that allows me to converse with my friends without shouting, not to be deafened into submission to fulfill the band’s delusion that I love their music so much that it has rendered me, and everyone else, speechless for the evening.

Everything considered ~ the location, ambience, lighting, service, range of beers on offer, choice of places to perch and, as just appraised, the music ~ the Dreadnought gets the expatriate seal of approval.

Vodka Selection Dreadnought Bar Kaliningrad

But it wasn’t over yet. One of our party, out of the goodness of her heart, had ordered the house specialty for me ~ my very own ‘big gun’ dreadnought. As the photograph shows, the wooden dreadnought model holds a full battery of different flavoured vodkas; large glasses full of them, and all for me at the end of the evening when I’d been drinking beer. The rest of the crew abandoned ship, but, like the good captain that I am, I remained on the bridge ready to do my duty and was quite prepared, if need be, to go down with the ship as the band played on. Sink or float, the following morning I knew I would need a life belt!

An Englishman at the Dreadnought Kaliningrad. Mick Hart.

Note in the photograph, the thoughtful and conveniently placed fire extinguisher that your friends can put you out with after you’ve overdone it on lashings of chili vodka!

Essential details:

Bar Drednout (Dreadnought Pub)
5 Handel Street
Kaliningrad
Russia

Tel: +7 (4012) 99 26 06

Opening times:
Mon-Thu, Sun: from 12 noon to 12 midnight
Fri-Sat: from 12 noon to 3am

Website: http://dreadnoughtpub.ru/

SEE >>>>>>> Kavkaz Restaurant, Kaliningrad

Kaliningrad Cinema

Zarya Cinema Kaliningrad+++

Updated 14 September 2021 | first published 6 March 2020 ~ Kaliningrad Cinema

*Please be aware that since this post was first published on 6 March 2020 the Zarya has sadly closed. Perhaps another victim of coronavirus? I have published the edited, updated version as an epitaph to a cultural icon that surely must be missed.

There is only one independent cinema in Kaliningrad*, but it has been showing films since the 1930s. It withstood the conflagration of World War II, making it one of a small but respected fraternity of Königsberg survivors.

There is only one independent cinema in Kaliningrad, but it has been showing films since the 1930s. The Scala cinema, as it was first known, was the last cinema to be constructed in Königsberg. When it opened its doors to the public in 1938, nobody could have imagined that, in less than a decade, the city and the culture of which it was a part would cease to exist.

Unlike its compatriots, the Scala, now Zarya (Dawn), whilst badly damaged in the destruction that engulfed the city in the final months of World War II, escaped the fate of its contemporaries as it did the postwar edict to eradicate as many vestiges of the city’s German heritage as was considered practical, a deliverance that has ensured Zarya a place among the small but time-honoured pantheon of surviving Königsberg buildings.

More recently, the Zarya has undergone an imaginative interior refit: a novel, roots-sensitive makeover that has infused the cinema with new life without sacrificing its historic integrity.

Today, the cinema continues the tradition that it inherited, serving as an invaluable place of social entertainment and as a hub of cultural and artistic promotion.

To accomplish this in the hard-edged cinematographic age of monolithic multiplexes, Zarya has had to progressively reinvent itself by offering thematic events, film festivals and even extending its cultural focus to include interactive gatherings and support for local projects deemed beneficial to the wider community (see Interesting Facts panel).

If I am not mistaken (and I generally am) for a while in its recent history the Zarya cinema shared its glass vestibule with Kaliningrad’s casino, later replaced by a restaurant that in recent months has also closed. But then how accurate am I? Vodka+beer+age = inevitable impaired memory.

Today, it is impossible to stroll past the double-glass frontage of the Zarya without asking yourself what sort of place is it that would have a large, vintage film projector sandwiched between its windows? And after answering wrongly retro shop, you might be inspired to conclude a cinema.

European Film Festival

The day we had chosen to visit the cinema had coincided quite by chance with its hosting of the European Film Festival, a prestigious annual event.

Entrance to Zarya Kaliningrad Cinema — Very kind of them

The red carpet was out; very plush; someone must have telephoned and told them that I was coming, I thought.

My wife thought not.

She explained that the red carpet and the hallway decked out in an imaginative tableau was to celebrate the work of the Belgian surrealist artist René Magritte.

Now stop me if you’ve heard this one before but the composition of which my wife spoke consisted of the following: numerous black bowler hats strung from the ceiling at different levels; a large, black, life-size model of a horse wearing a black lampshade (of course); and on the wall a ceiling-to-floor printed screen bearing repetitive images of numerous men, each one wearing a bowler hat, carrying an umbrella and facing this way and that.

René Magritte tribute — My kind of room: the Zarya cinema, Kaliningrad, Russia

The Son of Man

At the back of this mind-teasing display, in front of the foyer, stood a mannequin rendition of the famous surrealistic painting The Son of Man. He was wearing a black jacket, white shirt and bowler hat and had a green apple suspended where his face should have been and above that pendulous apple a bowler hat on a wire. Makes sense? Perhaps, for you who are old enough, it does, viz ‘an apple a day keeps John Steed away’?

I must say that the assertive presence of monochrome went well with the cinema’s emphasis on red plush textiles. Against the wall, where the red carpet ended, the low-slung tub-chairs had large spongey cushions upholstered in red material. Their further attraction lay in the fact that they had a definite Art Deco slant to them and that the maroon upholstery struck a balanced contrast with the beech-coloured woodwork that comprised the frames and the backs. Keeping them company, and dotted here and there, was the bar fly’s stool of choice: tall, sturdy, their 1940s’ round-back style consistently upholstered in a thematicising rich red fabric. Rumour has it that these seats are faithful copies of those that would have graced the cinema back in its Königsberg days.

Kaliningrad cinema

There was an awful lot going on visually inside the Zarya foyer and going on mainly in bright red and black: black hats, black horse, black piano, black light fittings.

In the hallway the black light shades jostled for air space with the black bowler hats, and their black cables hung in drop-head clusters (more than enough to give an arachnophobiac nightmares) which gathered at a ceiling rose, again in black. The broad red carpet and maroon-rich chairs intensified the blackness, not sordidly or with menace and by no means effetely but in a modern full-bodied way, somewhere between ostentation and class. Red also asserted itself in the heart-shaped cards with which a man-made (sorry about the UK sexism) bush was bedecked. The bush acted as a ‘visitors book’, the cards adorning it pinned there by numerous satisfied patrons, who wished to express appreciation for their cinematic experience by posting notes of goodwill.

European Film Festival Kaliningrad — European Film Festival at Zarya cinema, Kaliningrad, Russia

Architecturally, the interior of the building must have passed through various metamorphic permutations from the time it was salvaged from the ruins of Königsberg to its present-day incarnation. I was intrigued by the three or four doorless openings at the back of the room, all in one wall and separated from each other by a few feet only. The exposed but painted brickwork was a welcome sight in a building of this age, and the arches above the doorless openings echoed its heritage status.

Mick Hart Zarya Cinema Kaliningrad — Underneath the arches …

Through these venerable apertures, through lighting thoughtfully muted, small glimpses could be garnered of the cinema’s licensed bar and of its alcoholic infusions, posh top-shelf bottles strategically arranged to create the illusion of must-have, do-need in the name of style and image. That there was more shelving than bottles was no mistake or oversight; it allowed this coterie of top-brand liquor the space that it demanded to capture centre stage, like the high-priced prima donnas that its members most certainly are.

Between the wall and shelving, in this semi-open space, a long curving bar presided. The counter was ~ surprise, surprise ~ jet black, and this deep hue, together with the inbuilt shelving, bright red bar stools and discreet lighting gave to the whole a rich swanky opulence but of a kind more readily associated with high-rolling nightclubs than cinema interval-drinking space.

Mick Hart in Cinema Kaliningrad — Mick Hart in his natural habitat ~ cinema bar, Zarya cinema, Kaliningrad, Russia

At one end of this prestigious bar, the end where I had stood to have my photograph taken, the walls were covered in monochrome photographs, large pictures of people and lots of faces. I could only imagine that here assembled must be the cinema’s doyens, each one an exclusive personage in his or her respected field of filmography.

Kaliningrad cinema

At the other end of the bar, where there was more space, and in an area where the wall curved beautifully, a drawing room suite, constructed according to the 19^th century penchant for walnut-framed divans and chairs, offered fortunate patrons one of a number of close encounters with different eras in which to sit and relax.

Cinema lounge Kaliningrad — Timeless style at the Zarya cinema, Kaliningrad, Russia

My wife, having discovered a large Art Deco figurine typically modelled in the female form, a gilt-metal delight symbolising movement, life and energy, just had to have her picture taken sitting in front of the upright piano on top of which this prized piece sat.

I, too, am an ardent fan of Deco, but I did not want to lose sight of the fact that the reason we had come to the cinema was inspired in part by curiosity but also for light refreshment.

The Zarya is not in the habit of serving meals, but then again why should it? After all, it is not Bill’s Café (do you know it?), but two teas and some snacks to go with them was not beyond the cinema’s remit, and once I had managed to rescue my wife from her inveterate deco addiction, we were shown to a seat in a distant part of the building, the window of which conveniently fronts the street, thus allowing you to snack in style as you watch the world go by.

A most agreeable room

This was a room in which the past and present met on equal terms. There was nothing disagreeable about 19^th century reproduction antique furniture rubbing cabriole legs with the sleek profiles of modern black-vinyl seats or ebonised baluster rails used as visual divisions. There was a long wall seat, cushioned, comfortable-looking, running the length of the room, its presence literally overshadowed by a print of imposing proportions, gilt-framed, bold in colour and mounted on the wall above it. The scene depicted in this print has classical Biblical overtones, and I am sure that someone will recognise it from the photograph provided. However, you may encounter a little more difficulty when it comes to identifying its fellow print, since this has been suspended, frame and all, high above the flight of stairs that descends to the auditorium, and suspended close to the ceiling so that the image lies at 90 degrees to the floor.

Kaliningrad cinema Pop Art

A second room, running the entire length of one side of the building and at right angles to where we were sitting, accessible by two or three brick steps but cordoned off on the day we visited by a decorative barrier rope attached to two brass posts, offered tantalising glimpses through its doorless entrance and three or four apertures, which presumably once were windows, of its privacy beyond.

Although our view was limited to what could be seen through the gaps in the wall, there was sufficient visibility to see that the room was bedecked with mirrors, together with lighting sconces, retro advertisements and ceiling-suspended designer lanterns, the latter strung at random levels.

As I have said, this room was cordoned off, but if you don’t ask, you don’t get. And on this occasion, we did ask, and we didn’t get told to … you know.

Furniture Independent Cinema Kaliningrad — Hide behind that candelabra whilst I take a photo of this magnificent table

It was a super room to be in, and I liked a particular table. There were three tables of the same kind in total: one at either end of the room we were now in and a third occupying the room in which we had just had tea. The design of the table was simple, striking and slightly anachronistic. It consisted of a fairly narrow light-wood oval top ~ reminding me a bit of a Rich Tea finger biscuit ~ and was raised on end supports of three, tall, inverted baluster-type columns supported on a curved base. These tables must be for standing against, unless you could find a high enough stool.

There was no shortage of things to see on the walls, but the attention seekers and getters were indubitably vintage advertisements, large-format reproduced artworks which completely filled the recessed arches in which they had been placed, most probably former windows, and were accomplished in the style generically known as Pop Art.

Through the large patio doors at the far end of this room an outside seating area beckoned seductively. She, like the rest of Kaliningrad, had had her fill of damp mediocrity where winter used to be.

It would have been nice to have settled down for 90 minutes in the cinema’s auditorium, but nowt was showing today with English-subtitles, so there was nothing for it but to quit this eclectic environment and take our chance with the weather, outside once again on the Streets of Kaliningrad (come on film/TV buffs, wasn’t The Streets of Kaliningrad a Quinn Martin production?)

*Please be aware that since this post was first published the Zarya has sadly closed. Perhaps another victim of coronavirus?

Interesting Facts about Zarya cinema
[Zarya is a member of the Europa Cinemas network, the first network of cinemas to showcase European films]
#In 1997 the World Premiere of Titanic was screened at Zarya. Lead actor James Cameron presented the screening
#The European Film Festival was first held at Zarya in the early 2000s and continues to be held there
#Zarya has connections with the actor Woody Allen
#Zarya has devised and hosted hundreds of festivals, many international
#Zarya invented a jazz and silent film fusion creating a film-concert concept
#Other novel creations from the Zarya management and team include parties, vinyl record sales and a festival library.

The architect of the Scala cinema building was Siegfried Sassnik, whose work encompassed both residential and commercial projects throughout Königsberg. Two of those projects stand today in the near vicinity of the cinema building: the Moscow hotel and the entrance to the Zoo Park.

Essential Details:

Kinoteatr Zarya
43 Prospekt Mira
Kaliningrad 236000

Tel: 8 (401) 230 03 88

Web: www.kinozarya.ru
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kinozarya/

Opening Times
Sun-Mon 9am to 12 midnight
Fri & Sat 9am to 1am

Auditorium details
The cinema has two screening halls: one with 343 seats and the largest 3D-screen in Kaliningrad and a smaller hall where festival films and an arthouse are shown.

Out and about in Kaliningrad

Premier Cafe Bar, Kaliningrad
Bar Drednout [Dreadnought], Kaliningrad
Apartment Museum, Kaliningrad (Königsberg)
Max Aschmann Park, Kaliningrad
Kaliningrad Ferris Wheel at Youth Park
Kavkaz Restaurant, Kaliningrad

Kaliningrad Ferris Wheel at Youth Park

Published: 30 September 2020

When I was a nipper, I would like nothing more when we visited the seaside than spending my parents’ money on the funfair rides. Sea and sand are OK to look at, but I like water in tea, and I am no beach lizard.

If you live in or are visiting Kaliningrad, you can get your funfair fix at the Youth amusement park, which is a spacious and well-equipped amusement park across the road from the Upper Lake.

Recently, on my birthday, I was smitten by the regressive desire to go oscillating on the park’s big wheel. This is quite unlike me, as I gave up heights in preference for the sure-footedness of good old terra firma many moons ago. But it was my birthday, I had eaten an ice cream by the lake, and the wheel, which I had often regarded with curiosity whilst partaking of beer at the front of the Mercor Hotel, must have said something to me today like, “you’d better do it now, before you get too old!”

Kaliningrad Ferris wheel at Youth Park

I have never argued with a Ferris wheel before, have you? And today was no exception. But had I have been inclined to do so nothing would have come of it, because Kaliningrad’s big wheel is not one of those fast-moving fairground attractions where you sit with your friends suspended in chairs and when the wheel stops at the top your friend begins to rock it and is no longer your friend anymore, it is, in its construction and spirit of revolution, more akin to the London Eye ~ big, solid, friendly and sedate.

Nevertheless, at 50 metres it is high enough for me, and as we stood on the departure platform waiting for one of the empty cars to descend and allow us to board, I caught myself thinking yet again how unlike me this is, even on my birthday.

Kaliningrad Ferris Wheel at Youth Park

The cars roll around at a gentle pace but even so you clamber quickly aboard goaded to do so by the Imp of the Perverse who is whispering in your ear, “Quick, imagine your trouser leg getting caught on the edge of the car; how embarrassing that would be, to go hopping off towards the end of the platform!”

Mick Hart about to board Kaliningrad's big wheel — Mick Hart about to board Kaliningrad’s Ferris wheel

This thought, or thoughts similar, have you jumping aboard in no time. The car lurches and swings in response to your opposing momentum, but it is alright: the thing seems sturdy enough, and before you can say ‘motion sickness’ you have plonked yourself down on the bench seat.

Olga Hart on Kaliningrad's Youth Park Ferris wheel — Olga Hart not at all frightened on Kaliningrad’s Ferris wheel

The wheel’s cars are in fact quite spacious and would, I imagine, hold six people quite comfortably. The cars have glass doors, so you are fully enclosed, and the wide windows offer an awesome and spectacular view not just of Kaliningrad from an aerial perspective but of the steel lattice-work fabric, nuts, bolts and bearings from which the revolving contraption is made.

Kaliningrad Ferris wheel — View of Kaliningrad’s Ferris wheel and Kaliningrad itself from one of the wheel’s cars

As we levelled out at a 45-degree angle to the ground, the angle of the dangle incidentally causing you to feel more vulnerable than when the car reaches the summit, this is when both the wheel’s superstructure and park layout below are at their most dramatic; and then, slowly, very slowly, as the car begins to rise, Kaliningrad in all its (as I have said before) green glory and contrasting urban extensiveness folds quietly out beneath you inciting a landmark-spotters epiphany.

Königsberg district of Maraunenhof from Kaliningrad Ferris wheel — Looking out across the once Königsberg district of *Maraunenhof* from Kaliningrad Ferris wheel

Away with apprehension and out with the camera, I get some fairly good shots of the wheel itself and some admiral ones of the city. Yes, the photographs would have been better had I come prepared with a proper camera instead of relying on the mobile phone’s, but spur of the moment decisions respect nothing but opportunism so, as I did not plan ahead, I have to be contented.

View of Kaliningrad Upper Lake — Kaliningrad Upper Lake

Kaliningrad boating lake from the Ferris wheel — Kaliningrad Upper Lake

The view from the wheel’s highest point is nothing short of breathtaking, and for 200 rubles a ride (£1.99), presuming you do not own a microlight, this is the next best way to reach the dizzy heights, in other words to see the city of Kaliningrad as you have never seen it before.

Next on the bucket list is a spin on the wheel as dusk settles, when the wheel and the cityscape are bedecked with illumination.

Whereabouts

The Youth Park of Culture and Recreation is located in the Leningrad district of Kaliningrad at 3 Telman Street, opposite the Upper Lake.

Kaliningrad Green & Adorned with Flowers

As summer fades …

Published: 13 September 2020

It only seems five minutes ago that I was remarking on the welcome novelty of buds and leaves appearing on the Königsberg-Kaliningrad trees, and now here we are in September, the leaves turning brown and yellow and falling to the ground.

Early yesterday morning I was alerted to this fact by our cat, who jumped off the sideboard and scampered out of the room. Gin-Ginskey is extremely intrepid when it comes to hunting flies but anything that sounds like a vacuum cleaner is bound to send him dashing for cover, and in this instance the vacuum cleaner was of the large lorry variety, sucking up leaves from the old cobbled streets and pavements in front of our house.

Kaliningrad a green city adorned with flowers

In spring and summer Kaliningrad is one of the greenest cities imaginable, a feature which the art-historian Victor Ryabinin noted was not true of its predecessor Königsberg. In what was the Maraunenhof district of Königsberg and in other areas developed during the first years of the 20^th century through to the 1920s, the streets are lined with Königsberg trees. Now they are old and gnarled, venerable survivors of a brutalised city, but back in the day when they were mere precocious saplings they would not have provided the streets of Königsberg with the leafy green vistas and avenues of which Kaliningrad is the fortunate benefactor.

Indeed, Kaliningrad is a city of green open spaces: along the banks of the Pregel river where warehouses once have stood, surrounding the cathedral on Kneiphof Island, around and in front of the House of Soviets, that most controversial of Kaliningrad’s structures, in the numerous grassed quadrangles between the flats, and around the banks and perimeter of the upper and lower ponds.

Three or four large public parks, each endowed with their own distinctive character, contribute copiously to the leafy green landscape, creating rural backwaters in the heart of the city, which in the spring and summer months form natural retreats from the relentless pace and energy of urban living.

Kaliningrad green & adorned with flowers

Kaliningrad in the kind seasons is also a city rich with blooms and flowers of seemingly endless variety. You will find them everywhere: in the enviable gardens of the Maraunenhof villas, along the banks of the river, in municipal planters and thoughtfully planted flower beds, in the small border gardens that front the old German flats and the cottage gardens lovingly planted and tended at the foot of the Khrushchev flats ~ these borders can be surprisingly large and full of the most eclectic variety of flowers and flora.

You will find flowers adorning balconies, in window boxes and hanging baskets, some so prodigiously and impressively arranged that they are left to spill over on their own accord or are trained to cascade imaginatively into the garden below.

Shrubs, bushes, silver birch, pine, all manner of fir trees ~ even blue ones! ~ are thrown into the mix. Evergreen hedgerows tower above and push their way through perimeter railings, forming dense thickets for garden privacy, whilst fences new and old act as impromptu trellis work for climbing plants of every denomination.

And even though Kaliningrad is a bustling modern city, one of its more appealing attributes to my mind is that here and there you can stumble upon curious pockets of wild naturalistic vegetation, small friendly jungles that turn otherwise neglected spaces and mundane objects into inherently picturesque compositions ~ an old garage door, for example, biffed and battered through age and use, transformed by climbing foliage into a quaint vignette of antiquity or a ropey looking fence entwined with vines instantly elevated to photographic status~ the very stuff that artists delight in for its authentic old-world charm.

Although, as summer retreats, the pines and firs will not forsake us, in a few weeks from now the deciduous varieties will lose their foliage, the scene will shift to winter and the built-on urban landscape will assert itself again.

Hopefully, however, our collection of photographs taken during the spring and summer months will remind you how blessed Kaliningrad is to possess such examples of nature’s beauty and will help to sustain and lift your spirits through the winter months to come.

Kaliningrad Green & Adorned with Flowers

Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad

Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)

Introduction

Published: 30 June 2020 ~ Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad

Everybody knows that vodka is Russia’s national tipple, but it may come as surprise to learn that the second favourite is beer. From personal observation, I would say that here in Kaliningrad young people tend to favour beer over vodka, which would explain why the variety and availability of different beer types and brands have mushroomed in pace with the numerous new bars, restaurants and hotels that have opened in recent years.

Previous article: Preface (Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)

Gone are the days when if you felt like a beer you either went to the billiard hall or stopped off for a jar and a chat with friends at the side of the road. The little yellow two-wheeled tankers that provided this service have since been pensioned off, as far as beer is concerned, but can still be seen today now dispensing another traditional Russian drink of the non-alcoholic variety known as Kvass.

The increase in on-licensed premises since I first came to Kaliningrad in 2000 is nothing short of phenomenal and, coronavirus willing, may it continue to be that way. To service this industry there is not just a greater variety of Russian-brewed beer but also many international imports, both mainstream brands and interesting lesser known products, offering plenty of scope for exploration.

The craft beer bar has also made its debut in Kaliningrad. I believe there are five such outlets, the most popular and well-known being the Yeltsin Bar. These fairly small, but magnificently well-stocked beer bars, are reminiscent of the UK’s micro- or pop-up pubs but offer a substantially greater quantity and variety of beers at any one time sourced from around the world and purveyed on a rotational basis.

Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad

The brewed-on-the premises concept is also well established, with brew bars producing their own house brands and proudly displaying their brewing equipment for all to see on the premises. A good, large and exciting example of this would be the Pivovar Restaurant Brewery just off Victory Square in the centre of Kaliningrad, where the rows upon rows of deep copper brewing kettles and those mounted monolithically behind the bar are nothing short of magnificent

British ales are obtainable in Kaliningrad, such as Fuller’s ESB and various IPA varieties, most conspicuously in the Sir Francis Drake English-style pub, the first of such bars in Kaliningrad, which was certainly functioning when I first came here in the year 2000. But, as might be expected, the British ales that are served here are the keg export equivalent of their real-ale counterparts. But hey! ~ you did not travel all this way to drink a pint of Charlie Wells, did you?

Bottled British-brewed craft ales are also no stranger to Kaliningrad. You can expect to find both mainstream and more exotic brands in Kaliningrad’s specialist beer shops, and some supermarkets, both small and large, often stock a surprisingly diverse range of British beers.

Imported beer is, not very strangely, more expensive to buy than home-grown varieties, whether bought for consumption in restaurants or bars or as an off-sale from specialist beer shops. The typical price of half a litre of British beer in the Sir Francis Drake, for example, would set you back 250 to 360 rubles, which is between £2.90 and £4.18, whereas a half litre of Russian beer in one of the Britannica bars (a chain of British-themed ale houses along the lines of Wetherspoons) will leave your pocket a lot less stressed at around 130 rubles (£1.51).

Naturally, beer purchased from supermarkets can be obtained at more economical prices. My favourite Kaliningrad bottle beer, Ostmark (strong), which weighs in at a not inconsiderable 6.7% alcohol by volume ~ rather too strong for my normal preference of 4.5% max, but with more taste than most lager beers ~ costs between 160 rubles and 136 rubles for a 1.35 litre bottle, the price differentiation can be explained by the presence of two small supermarkets close to where we live, one of which is cheaper. In the cheaper supermarket, special offers occur on a daily basis, and I have seen good quality beers in 1.35 litre bottles going for less than a quid. Incidentally, this same supermarket does a good discounted range of quality vodkas as well, from around £2.80 for a 75cl bottle.

Another must for the beer connoisseur and further testimony to the take-up of beer in Kaliningrad specifically and Russia overall are the well-patronised specialist beer-dispensing shops. These establishments offer a wide selection of Russian and imported speciality beers on tap, which once purchased are conveniently decanted into screw-topped 2-litre plastic bottles.

Surprisingly, given its relatively small size, one of our local supermarkets incorporates an outlet of this nature. It stocks around 10 different beers on tap as well as some bottled varieties. The beer is good, both in terms of variety and quality, and is also competitively priced, making this venue a particular favourite of my brothers when he visited us last summer.

Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad

In Russia, beers tend to be grouped into categories determined by their hue: light, red and dark. In restaurants or bars, you will also often be asked whether you want a particular beer to be filtered or unfiltered. Simply translated this means that you have a choice between cosmetic surgery or beer in its natural state.

As the articles which follow deal exclusively with beers that I have been buying at random from our local supermarkets in 1.35l bottles, the light, dark, filtered and unfiltered taxonomy is only relevant insofar as appearance is concerned, and you can only really determine this once the bottle is open and the contents have been poured.

These beers may not be the crème de la crème in the sense that they are supermarket bought, not purchased from craft-beer outlets, but they do have something very important going for them: they have helped to sustain me through the isolating process, and during social distancing have become a much appreciated part of my personal New Normal in the wake of closed bars whilst the dreaded spectre of Coro continues to stalk the land.

😏 Feature image: Mick & Olga Hart enjoying a beer on the terrace at the palatial Residence of the Kings, Kaliningrad, in the pre-coronavirus summer of 2019

Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad

Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)

Preface

Published: 21 June 2020 ~ Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad

Prompted by no other motivation than a love of beer drinking, I have decided to review some of the bottled beers I am drinking here in Kaliningrad, Russia, whilst the bars remain closed due to social distancing rules. This is the preface to a series of posts on that most hallowed of subjects, beer. It places my own beer-drinking experiences in a biographical and historical context and is a precursor to explaining how I am surviving without real ale in Kaliningrad, the alternative beers available and a personal review of the quality and marketing success of the bottled beers that I have sampled. As they say, it’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it!*

Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad

When I told fellow Brits that I was moving to Russia, three responses stick in my mind. The first, and the most obvious, was aghast amazement that I was leaving behind the most celebrated democracy in the world (Ha! Ha!). The second, a rather cynical comment on the number of times I visit the doctors, was made by one of my brothers: “It’s a long way to travel to see Dr Kelly each week!” And the third, “How are you going to survive without real ale?” The last one worried me.

I was a victim of the first wave of lager drinking, which infected the UK back in the 1970s. I will not call it a love affair, it was more like sex for sale. In those days, the UK pub industry was dominated by the Big Six ~ six major breweries that had consolidated their monopolies by buying up many smaller regional breweries and their tied houses and incorporating them into their business portfolio. Real beer had long since been challenged, and in many public houses replaced, by what CAMRA (the Campaign for Real Ale) pejoratively dubbed ‘fizz’, keg beer, which was spearheaded in the 1960s by the now infamous Watneys Red Keg Barrel, both brewer and beer having since become a cipher for poor quality, mass produced.

Watney Mann in Bulk — A former Watney’s brewery tanker reincarnated as a water tanker for farm use.
**(Photo credit: Roll Out Red Barrel;**
cc-by-sa/2.0 – © Michael Trolove – geograph.org.uk/p/1028498)

It is an irony of fate that the beer and the brewery which set out, and partly succeeded, in changing the drinking habits of the nation ended up as the beer-drinkers’ pariah.

Remember the Firkin pubs?

Of the many insults levelled at Watney’s, possibly the quintessential one, certainly the one that I remember best, was when the Flamingo and Firkin in Derby, one of the David Bruce-inspired craft-ale chain of pubs, refitted the gents toilet with an oversized water cistern masquerading as a Red Barrel. The barrel design, shade of red and even the Watney’s name emblazoned across the front in a typeface identical to the one that Watney’s used, was the pièce de résistance of piss taking, and in that respect it was in the right place.

Whilst no one can defend with any credibility the instigatory role that Watney’s played in the fizz revolution, Red Barrel was not alone for long. Who can forget the dubious delights of such mass-produced keg mediocrity as Ind Coope’s Double Diamond (‘Double Diamond Works Wonders’ ~ it didn’t) Whitbread Trophy (‘Whitbread Big Head Trophy Bitter the pint that thinks it’s a quart’ ~ well it would; it was all head, no strength and as inflatable as a hydrogen balloon) and Charles Wells’ Noggin (its bar-top beer-pump head made of wood to look like a nautical mooring post complete with rope wrapped around it, presumably to remind you that the 15 pence you had just spent was ‘money for old rope’).

The bland and sterile taste that these truly revolting beers left in one’s mouth was gradually, but then meteorically, replaced by something not dissimilar. It, too, was gassy, bland and sterile but sold well, thanks mainly to the money thrown at it in mass advertising campaigns that succeeded in hiding its meretricious nature behind a macho, blokey image, similar in aspiration to the rugged sexuality exploited by aftershave brands Brut and Hai Karate and enlisting the same flared trousers, tight-fitting tank tops and downturned droopy moustache approach.

Make way for lager

Initially, the lager market was aimed at female and young mixed clientele, but its rapid uptake quickly recommended it as a manly alternative to keg, escalating sales into brand warfare as brewers vied with one another to gas-tap their product into the number one slot.

My lagers of choice at that time were Lamont, Tuborg Gold and Tennent’s Extra. But the gold standard in lager for myself and my drinking confederates was undoubtedly Stella Artois, which, unfortunately, we could only seem to find in freehouses, and in our area these were few and far between.

My return to beer drinking and my induction into real ale is a vivid memory. It was 1979 and I was on a pub crawl in Norwich with a fellow student from the University of East Anglia, a chap called Clive. We had not known each other long, but long enough to know that we both liked beer. We met in the student’s bar on the then Fifers Lane campus. It was a full house that evening and a group of us were sitting on the floor surrounded by beer cans. Clive had just rolled in from a late game of squash. “A fitness fanatic,” I thought. I revised my opinion six pints later, but I have to say it was beer at first sight.

Clive was a Londoner and as such, insofar as beer-drinking trends were concerned, he was far ahead of the game than folk like myself who hailed from the sticks or from small provincial towns, places at that time where the only escape from the big brewers and their bog-standard fare was the occasional hard-to-find freehouse.

It was Clive who introduced me to real ale. We were in a pub overlooking Norwich market when Clive asked if I would like a pint of Director’s. As a lager drinker, used to less esoteric names, such as ‘Extra’, ‘Gold’ and ‘Red Stripe’, I remember thinking ‘what a bloody silly name for a beer’. Moreover, I had not drunk anything from a wooden handle pulled at the bar since my light and bitter days. Gas-tap beer was typically dispensed through a little plastic box with a light bulb behind it, whilst lager frothed and foamed worse than the liberal-left from out of conspicuous chromium taps, large, brassy and brazen things which over the years have become incredibly more stupid. Where does the light and bitter fit in? We were young when we started drinking in pubs, about 14 I think, but even then we eschewed Charles Wells’ bitter, which, unfortunately was a staple brew in most of the pubs in our area. We could drink it, but only ‘half-and-half’, that is a half pint of Charlie from the handpump diluted with light ale from the bottle.

Silly name or not, Directors was my first pint of real ale, and to me, at that time, it tasted like nectar. I was hooked from the first sip. Here, at last, was something different; something which had flavour!

All praise to CAMRA!

It was CAMRA (the Campaign for Real Ale) which revived the fortunes of real ale and put the final nail in the keg-bitter coffin. CAMRA launched a relentless campaign throughout the 80s and 90s, encouraging small and later micro-breweries to experiment with and increase their beer type and range and as the ‘cold tea’, as my cockney friend called ale, caught on the major brewers were forced to follow suit and up their real-ale ante to keep pace with the craft-beer experts.

Local beer guides and national Good Pub Guides coinciding with the arrival and development of the soon to become ubiquitous beer festival, which ranged from large-scale events featuring scores of brewers from around the country, fast-food outlets and live music to mini-festivals held in pubs, compounded and accelerated what for real legacy Britons such as myself is a unique and treasured part of our national heritage: proper beers and British pubs! No wonder that our saviour from the European Union, the indefatigable Nigel Farage, is himself a beer connoisseur!

Opening time at the Rushden Cavalcade beer tent c.2017

But these are troubled times, comrades. Coronavirus’s New Normal is sweeping across the land like an out-of-control temperance league and ideological agendas threaten British life with a rehashed version of British heritage. Our only hope is that beer-drinking patriots stand firm in the face of adversary. Keep the beer-drinking faith and stamp the virus out! Pubs are a national treasure and beer the jewel in its crown.

It is not ‘Time Gentleman, please’, yet gentlemen!

Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad

In the next astonishing instalment of Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers in Kaliningrad, we will see how exactly Mick Hart adjusted to the New Drinking Normal of no real ale!

*If you make your obsession your profession you will never work again ~ so some clever fellow once said. Well, I was fortunate to make one of my obsessions, beer, my profession for a while, and yes, if I had not moved on to something else, I might never have worked again! I was fortunate enough in my publishing career to work on and contribute to various licensed trade publications, hospitality titles, pub guides and drinkers’ manuals, which also gave me the opportunity to interview brewers, publicans and report on real ale and cider festivals. Consequently, I can vouch for the fact that you can have too much of a good thing, so I switched from drinks’ publications to medical ones, thus exchanging the fear of becoming an alcoholic for becoming a hypochondriac.

NEXT ARTICLE IN THIS SERIES: Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad

Plyushkin Bar & Restaurant Kaliningrad

Mama Mia Restaurant Kaliningrad

My wife has been nagging (they do, don’t they) for the past couple of days for me to leave the house and go outside, but the weather has been so awful that I have used it as an excuse to stay indoors and not get the fresh air that is so good for me.

Today, however, the sun came out and with my excuse rendered null and void I was forced to give in. We were off to the central market, and I had been told that it would be very beneficial for me if we walked, and besides I would enjoy it.

As it happens I did, but you don’t tell them that in a hurry.

On the way we took some photographs of some interesting bas relief work to some of the buildings close to the market.

We were off shopping for vegetables, and I must say that Kaliningrad’s covered market is such a joy to shop in (more of that later) that by the time we got there I had stopped complaining.

Loaded with all sorts of edibles that are not meat, we then decided to stop off somewhere for a spot of lunch.

We chose Mama Mia’s, a restaurant on the edge of Victory Square opposite the cathedral.

Mama Mia is a rather modern affair, certainly not the sort of place that I could wear my 1940s’ clothes in, but it is bright, comfortable and above all relaxing. On one side, the side we were in, you can look out of the windows and watch the world go by ~ I spotted a van with a large hammer and sickle motif stuck to it ~ or, for a slightly more reclusive experience, you can turn left where the room is divided up into larger seating areas favourable for group dining.

Mama Mia Restaurant

In here there are two rather interesting things: one, a wall-mounted water feature, which resembles a mirror but has water cascading down the inside of it; and two, a display of giant piano keys overlaid with outsized wooden portholes.

I was content to be in our little seats, seeing vans go by with hammers and sickles on them at a table where it is possible to flag the waiter’s attention literally at the press of a button.

We did not have the chance to use this communication mechanism, as we were straight in and ordering two ‘business lunches’. These are preset lunches at a very good price. I had Greek salad, soup and pizza accompanied by cranberry juice. My wife had chicken soup and chicken cutlets with brown rice, and between us, in a see-through teapot, we had freshly made ginger tea. The meals cost us £2.50 apiece and the speciality tea £1.70.

Mama Mia Kaliningrad — Comfortable and competitively priced: Mama Mia Restaurant, Kaliningrad, Russia

Shame on me, I did not partake of beer this lunchtime as I had a workout scheduled. But perhaps tomorrow night…

We snapped a few pictures whilst we were in there, caught a taxi home and I left one bag behind, had to go back for it and got nagged at for being дурак (silly)

That’s a nice thing to say to your husband, I’m sure.

Essential Details:

Mama Mia
Klover Siti Tsentr
Ploschtschad Pobedy 10,
Kaliningrad
Kaliningrad Oblast, 236006

Tel: 8 (401) 253 33 55

Opening times:
Everyday 10am to 12am

Kaliningrad City of Contrasts

No Laughing Matter!

Continuing with our theme of Kaliningrad City of Contrasts, I was out walking the other day and I came across this rather splendiferous example.

On one side of the road you have this spanking new block of flats; on the other, this rather sad and sorry ruined Königsberg cottage.

Kaliningrad City of Contrasts

Could the latter be restored, I hear you say? Or, is that just the sound of my own Romanticist fantasy ringing inside my head?

If I had a flat which faced the street in the new apartment block pictured here, every day I looked out of my window and beheld this ruined abode, I would be confronted with the question, is this building restorable?

I would need you there to laugh at me.

But something has to be built on this site at some time. So, let us rephrase the question: would it be possible to salvage something from this former home and integrate it into a new build as a historic feature?

You are laughing at me again!

But look at those marvelous chimney stacks, and is that an enamel sign peeping through the trees on the right-hand side? And who knows what may still be lurking on the inside under the debris? Perhaps one of those remarkable tiled Königsberg stoves; 1920s’ door handles; additions and renovations from the Soviet era. If nothing else, the red bricks have to be a reusable, recyclable commodity?

What’s that you say?

It would be easier to keep the curtains shut or buy a flat on the other side of the building.

Philistine!

Kaliningrad Architectural Contrasts

Kaliningrad a Place of Architectural Contrasts

February 8^th 2020 was a big day in Kaliningrad, to be more precise, it was Big Sausage Day*. Reputedly, it is the day that the ladies of Kaliningrad walk around with smiles upon their faces and quite a lot of the men most sensibly stay at home (source: anonymous). But not me. Unfazed by the reports of a giant object of cylindrical length being disported on the open streets, I set out, in defiance of the Vegetarian Society, one day late as usual.

The Big Sausage fest has become so popular here in recent years that it has undergone an extension, turning it effectively from a Big Sausage Day into a Big Sausage Weekend. Unfortunately, the huge and eponymous object makes its debut on Saturday morning. This year we had been invited to attend on Sunday and last year both I and our invitee were too hungover to attend. So, instead of reviewing how the Big Sausage went and where it went, I am going to make a few comments instead on the much-vaunted subject of ‘Kaliningrad: a place of contrasts’.

This expression is a stock-in-trade of most travelogues where Kaliningrad is concerned, and why not? It is a good one. The term is often applied to the striking and very often incongruous juxtaposition of architectural forms here in Kaliningrad.

Kaliningrad architectural contrasts

The connection between a whopping great sausage and architecture is not as obtuse as first it may seem. On the second day of this weekend’s event, the Big Sausage, understandably exhausted from Saturday’s exertions, goes into hiding, allowing the festivities to continue in a more circumscribed place. The venue this year was in the paved area surrounding one of Konigsberg’s restored monuments, the King’s Gate (more of which at another time).

Kaliningrad a place of architectural contrasts — Königsberg ‘s KIng’s Gate & Kaliningrad’s Soviet flats ~ a City of contrasts. Notice the old tram tracks!

Kaliningrad King’s Gate

You can see from the photograph supplied, the red-brick Gothic structure of the King’s Gate in the foreground (photographed from the back) and there in the background a long row of 1970s’ Soviet-built flats. Needless to say, the world’s most renowned architects eschew these rather than applaud them, but, like them or not, they are all part and parcel of Königsberg-Kaliningrad’s diverse and rich history.

In my humble vegetarianskee opinion, these flats could be employed to good purpose this time next year. By attaching a giant inflatable sausage from the rooftops, running from one end to the other, the venue for Second Sausage Day would be unmissable and the advertising potential for certain types of products phenomenal. Food for thought?

*The Long Sausage holiday has a long tradition. The medieval holiday was first held in Königsberg in 1520. Königsberg’s butchers cooked 16 metre’s of sausage and carried it around the city. The participants then ate the sausage, drank beer and danced. Today, the people of Kaliningrad continue the old tradition and enjoy the holiday of old Königsberg .

Plyushkin Bar & Restaurant Kaliningrad

Plyushkin Bar & Restaurant

Sadly, Plyushkin is now as deceased as it’s fictional namesake😥

It is not called ‘Lampshades’ but why not is anybody’s guess. Plyushkin (which is the name of a fictional character in Gogol’s novel Dead Souls) is a bar/restaurant located on a busy intersection in Kaliningrad opposite the Amber Museum. It is nice and central, and situated as it is on a bustling traffic hub, easy to get to by bus, mini-bus or tram. From the outside, it is deceptive, especially at night, when all that can be seen is a small foyer and the neon sign above it, but the bar/restaurant is below ground and once inside the place is truly TARDISial.

Plyushkin Bar & Restaurant Kaliningrad — Plyushkin bar & restaurant, Kaliningrad, where lampshades abound

Be that as it may, the furnishings, décor and lighting make for a very comfortable, cozy and inviting feel. When you stop marveling at the oversized lampshades, you are rendered agog by the seating arrangements. Where would you like to sit? It is not an easy choice. In Plyushkin no dining suite is the same as the next, although we narrowed down the selection from traditional table and dining-room chairs to low-slung settees and tables to match.

Plyushkin Bar & Restaurant Kaliningrad

The accent is upon old-world charm ~ reproduction antique furniture ~ but non-conformist enough to find walnut-veneer-framed divans sharing the same space as 1960s’ designs and Avant Garde spectaculars, such as one table which has a coiled rope columnar support, not dissimilar to a cat’s gigantic scratching post.

Along the side of one wall runs an eclectic series of mismatching sideboards and tallboys, both parodies from and originals to disparate eras. The walls and lateral ceiling supports are profusely covered in framed vintage photographs and prints, including one of a young Queen Elizabeth II (G’ord Bless yu Maam!), although one wall of painted brick has been left relatively clear with respect to the current industrial look.

Queen Elizabeth in a Kaliningrad Restaurant — Queen Elizabeth II in Plyushkin, Kaliningrad ~ that’s her on the wall by the way …

Pigs’ Snouts

The menu is deliberately ‘old style’ Russian, and whilst pig snouts in mustard sauce may not be everyone’s idea of culinary heaven, just think it could be worse, and there might have been a photograph in the menu.

Nevertheless, we have dined here four or five times, and my carnivore associates assure me that their choice of meals has been very tasty and value for money.

The bar is well stocked, leaving nothing to the imagination, and I can vouch for the beer. The cheapest is about 112 rubles (which is about £1.36), whilst the premium, which weighs in at around 7% gravity, is about 275 rubles (£3.33).

Service is spot-on, unlike some places I could mention ~ and no doubt will, as we get around.

Live music

All in all, Plyushkin is extremely atmospheric, and on Saturday evenings live music adds to the ambience. The pendant lampshades, of which there are many, are huge, creatively different and pose a curious question, if not ‘Lampshades’ why not ‘Not One the Same’? ~ both would make super alternative names.