London Woke Up to Khan ~ one day it might just wake up!
Woke Watch PC UK! {Case 2}
Published: 11 May 2021
On 8 May 2021, London Woke up to a new dawn of nothing new ~ another 3 years of Sadiq Khan as mayor. Another 3 years for the usual suspects to contextualise his re-election as a great day for inclusivity ~ never mind the downside!
As predicted, London, which the last national census of 2011 revealed is 55.1% non-white British (one can only imagine what it is now!) chose to ignore Khan’s abysmal record of mayoralty and instead, following their woke instinct, ticked the box next to the man under whose mayoral tenure the capital city of England has earnt itself the dubious accolade of being Stab Fest City of the World.
During Khan’s 5-year reign, serious crime in London has spiralled out of control: deaths by stabbing are at an all-time high; rape prosecutions have dwindled: nobody feels safe upon the streets anymore.
Political activists such as Laurence Fox, himself a candidate for the London mayor’s office, called upon the Metropolitan Police to ‘free up officers to police streets not tweets’, a reference to the disproportional importance that the Metropolitan Police under Khan’s stewardship seems to put on their politically correct credentials at the expense of combatting crime in the real world.
An insight into the extent of Khan’s wokeyness can be gleaned from a Spectator article headlined, ‘Revealed: the cost of Sadiq Khan’s woke army’:
“The number of staff at City Hall has swelled by 45 per cent in just four years, rising from 817 in May 2016 to 1,190 in April 2020. Among these include no less than nine staff tasked with responsibilities for inclusion, diversity and fairness – a ratio of one per 132 total employees.
“Posts include a Programme Director for Economic Fairness who earns between £70,241 and £76,029”
And if that does not convince you, The Spectator article goes on to mention Khan’s planned ‘commission for diversity in the public realm’, an exercise in pure woke that is expected to cost the taxpayer more than £1 million.
London Woke Up to Khan
Among the tasks that Khan’s commission has been charged to oversee is a review of London’s statues and street names in capitulation to the Black Lives Matter riots last year (2020). Now that really is money well spent! Apart from “Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square”, how on earth will London’s cabbies cope with all those foreign ooboogoogoo street names and disposed heritage landmarks? And what chance do we have of selling Churchill’s statue to the yanks for as much as it costs to fund a diversity manager, now that Biden has been string-pulled into office?
At least this proposed scheme goes some way to explain why the black gentleman, Shaun Bailey, the Conservative candidate for mayor of London, failed to cut the mustard, that and the £1.5 million Khan disposed of on a New Year’s Eve firework display in which he chose to illuminate London’s skyline with the paramilitary BLM emblem of the raised, clenched fist. I think the word is ‘pandering’ or is it just ‘sick’? Perhaps, when you stop to consider that this act alone provides a clue as to why violent crime in London goes unchecked, a better word would be ‘sickening’. One million quid spent on renaming streets and replacing statues is a lot to shell out to blackmailers. The money would be better spent on training and equipping a viable London riot squad or used for funding a long overdue addition to the UK’s national curriculum called Respect for the Host Country.
The BBC (which the Mail Online informs us backed Khan’s inappropriate but self-revealing firework display [Tories slam Sadiq Khan’s £1.5million New Year’s Eve light show | Daily Mail Online) tells us that “the mayor [of London] officially acts as the police and crime commissioner for London, which means the mayor has a role in setting out how London is policed and staffed.” Oh dear!
“The mayor appoints the Metropolitan Police commissioner, who is in charge of the day-to-day running of the police and holds them to account.” Oh dear! Oh dear!
“Finally, the mayor also works with different agencies and government departments to make sure London is prepared for … terror attacks.” Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear!!! [London elections 2021: What can the mayor of London do? ~ BBC (accessed 9 May 2021)]
The Metropolitan Police commissioner whom Khan ‘holds to account’ is one Cressida Dick ~ she must have had a hard time of it when she was at school, but then she became a police officer.
So, London has an Asian mayor and a female Metropolitan Police commissioner called Cressida Dick ~ and you and I wonder why mean tweeters are more at risk of being brought to book than serious street crims. Although, in case you need to know, the Stay Out of Jail Free card for mean tweeters is liberal affiliation and espousing liberal causes. No matter what you say or how you say it, you are guaranteed immunity.
When you read that the role of London mayor has the largest personal mandate of any politician in the UK and that Khan is the recipient, that is scary stuff indeed. But, before we write the UK off completely, let us not forget that London is a state within a state, a woke liberal enclave surrounded by a far greater real British population than the one that has yet to evacuate London, and that this same majority living in the provinces excommunicated London many decades ago. I suppose the day will finally come when we can leave multicultural London to its renamed streets and statues of a different hue and simply move the seat of government somewhere else ~ like Scunthorpe, for example ~ then campaign for LEXIT, set up a hard border and encircle it with a moat.
Whatever our opinion is of Mr Khan and his mayoral iniquities, we must concede that his re-election is merely grist to the woke mill. Laurence Fox, actor, political activist, victim of wokism and a mayoral candidate, never believed he would oust Khan in the London election for mayor, but by standing against Khan in the knowledge that he never represented a serious threat to Khan’s fifedom let alone pull his mayoral chain and flush him away, he effectively proved his point, that London is unequivocally the UK’s ‘Cathedral of Woke’. And there, as they say, you have it.
The beauty of living in a democracy (the UK’s kind of democracy) is that whilst you hardly ever get what you want, you often get what you deserve. So, let that be a lesson to you, London! Pass the vest and let’s all hold hands …
A T-shirt featuring the mayor and police commissioner hugging, with the emblematic BLM fist superimposed on the back, can be purchased from The Commission for Diverting Your Attention in the Public Realm, Blackhall, West Monrassa SW1A (turn hard and extreme left at Churchill’s empty statue plinth). Also on sale, 2021 mayoralty stab vests and candle-lit vigil kits, plus the Handbook on Mean Tweets ~ how to be liberal and avoid conviction.
Published: 7 May 2021 ~ See 1930s Buick at Fort XI Kaliningrad
On the 29 April 2021, my wife, Olga, and I were invited to attend the Kaliningrad Retro Car Club’s classic car rally, which was being held at Fort XI (Fort Dönhoff), the best preserved fort of Königsberg’s outer defensive circle. I wrote about Fort Dönhoff in an earlier post, and one of the attractions of revisiting it was to see to what extent it had developed in terms of restoration and as a regional tourist attraction.
Needles to say, whilst there we snapped a good many photographs, both of the fort itself and of the cars exhibited.
One car that we photographed was not included in the photographic ensemble depicted in my last post, as it is not, as far as I can ascertain, owned by a member of the Retro Car Club and, besides, it is such an unusual vehicle to be stationed in this part of the world that I think that it deserves a post of its own.
See 1930s Buick at Fort XI Kaliningrad
As you will see from the photographs provided, the car in question is a 1930s’ American Buick ~ a must for anyone fascinated with early-to-mid 20th century American automobiles and the history of the period from the prohibition to the pre-war era.
I confess that I haven’t done my background work on this vehicle, but I am sure that there are any number of vintage automobile enthusiasts out there who will know exactly what model it is and its year of manufacture (most likely 1938?).
I did ask one of the Kaliningrad Retro Car Club members and received the indignant snort that “it [the car] is only a shell!” From which I understood that it is minus its engine. But even so, what a shell!
Posing next to it I wished I had worn my 1930s’ suit and Fedora and that I had retained a 1920s’ Thompson submachine gun from the days when I dealt in that sort of thing (deactivated, of course!). But without these props it was gratifying enough to be told that with the car in the background my wife and I could pass for Bonnie and Clyde.
Hmmm, I’m not sure whether our flatterer meant that we looked like the Bonnie and Clyde or the owners of Bonny’s Chip Shop in the Port of Barrow near Clyde?
But what the heck! Even a back-handed compliment is better than no compliment! And anyway, who could hope to upstage such an epoch-making vehicle as this!
1930s Buick at Fort XI
See 1930s Buick at Fort XI Kaliningrad
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Essential details:
Fort XI Dönhoff Ulitsa Energetikov Kaliningrad Kaliningrad Oblast 236034
Opening times: The fort is open every day: Summer from 10am to 6pm; Winter from 10am to 5pm
Admission: 300 roubles Discount tickets 150 roubles (pupils and students, retirees, veterans of the Great Patriotic War, the disabled) Free admission for children under 7 years old
Sightseeing tours: Tours are provided free of charge On weekdays tours take place daily at 11am, 1pm, 3pm and 5pm At weekends and holidays at 11am 12 noon, 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm and 5pm Approximate duration of tour is one hour For groups of more than 10 people, advanced booking is required. Tel: +7 401 239 0699
Updated: 3 May 2021 | originally published 24 January 2020
Königsberg, the former East Prussian capital which preceded Kaliningrad, was heavily fortified by two formidable rings of forts and interconnecting walls punctuated with bastions and other defensive structures. Today, these forts exist in various states of repair and disrepair, some extensively damaged as a result of military action in WWII, others being cared for by people who are renting them on a lease basis.
In 2015, we learnt that one of the forts belonging to the outer belt was being meticulously restored with a view to opening it as a tourist destination. Then, as now, a good friend of ours arranged for us to visit the fort. In January 2020, we were introduced to the entrepreneur who had taken on this ambitious restoration project. We were to meet him again at Fort XI to see how things were developing.
Fort XI (Fort Dönhoff), one of Königsberg’s forts within the outer defensive ring, is currently undergoing an extensive renovation programme. Already welcoming tourists, the massive and intricate structure is being painstakingly repaired, brick by brick, wall by wall, room by room. As I said to Arthur, the man behind the plan, “You’ve done a lot since we were here last in 2015.” Said he, with more than a touch of irony, “There’s still a lot to do.”
Having turned off the main highway, you arrive at the fort after travelling down a long narrow road that opens up into the visitors carpark. At the end of WWII and until recently, the fort was requisitioned and used as a munitions and armaments store. This explains why the perimeter of the fort is ringed with barbed wire fences, coils of barbed wire and a secondary metal gate, and why there are rusting warning signs and spotlights stationed in the trees. At this point you have not entered the red-brick fort. You are not in 19th century Königsberg, or Königsberg World War II, but atmosphere-wise you are very much back in the Cold War era.
Soviet entrance to the fort (summer 2015)
Where’s James Bond when you need him?
Not looking at all like James Bond, any of us, our
friend Venzel, Olga and I pass through the Soviet military gate, which is now
on the skew and decidedly rickety. We pass a portable cabin, which, for the
time being, functions as a front office, pay-desk and souvenir shop, and walk
the short distance to the fort’s gate proper.
The main entrance to the fort, built, as with the rest of the structure, in Neo-Gothic form, stands a few metres away from the later entrance, the banks on one side and the flatter terrain on the other still protected with military fencing.
The two tall pillars of the entrance continue to
support the original iron gates to the fortress. They are awesome in every
respect, thick and heavy with hinges and handle to match. What an excellent logo
they would make for border control in Britain when we finally leave the EU.
Hmmm, I think I should copyright this one.
Mick Hart at the entrance to Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad, Russia
Inside the compound, immediately inside, nothing much
seemed to have changed from our last visit: small building on the left, small
shed-like building to the right. But this position does give the visitor a
commanding view of the front of the fort: the hardstone track crossing the moat
to the great arched doorway; the side walls of the fort fanning out to form the
open end of a chevron.
Our host, Arthur, the fort’s lease owner, greeted us,
and we walked together towards the fort entrance. As we crossed the narrow
bridge, I could see immediately that repointing and cleaning work had been undertaken
and that the old windows had all been replaced with wooden-framed double-glazed
units. The overgrowth, and the rubbish that it contained, along both outer
walls of the fort had been cleared, the grass on both sides of the footpath in
front trimmed and the vegetation stripped from the moat. Arthur explained that
they had managed to lower the level of the moat by one metre, which must have
had a beneficial effect in combatting rising damp inside the fort.
Rare bits and rabbits
The mown grass banks that slope gently down towards the moat side contain a small profusion of little wooden houses. These were not homes for a rising population constructed on a green belt, but executive homes for rabbits. Arthur explained that they had a number of resident rabbits, curious and exotic species, half-a-dozen of which could be seen bobbing around munching the grass.
Gathering outside the entrance to the fort to discuss what had been achieved since we were here last, I observed that an outer door had been added. This new door followed the original contours of the arch. The frame was black steel, the inner criss-crossed with vertical and horizontal struts in the manner of a portcullis, the intervals between the squares infilled with double-sided, ribbed, translucent plastic. This theme, I would soon discover, had been adopted throughout the fort. The portcullis effect was highly suitable to the surroundings in which it had been employed, whilst the translucent plastic served two fortuitous purposes: letting in light whilst retaining heat.
And heat there was, not in every room and corridor,
but certainly in the rooms where renovation was complete. The heating of
choice, and it could hardly have been any other bearing in mind the fort’s
location, is wood burners. Nothing more, except for open fire hearths, would be
appropriate. The stoves have a retro-look about them and fit well into the
backdrop of red-brick walls and vaulted Gothic ceilings.
We passed through two ante-chambers containing relics from World War II: munition shells, military helmets, various items of field gear all discovered either in the fort itself or in the grounds surrounding it. The walls are interspersed at regular intervals with printed and pictorial information boards depicting the history of Königsberg’s defenses, the particular fort we were in, and the RAF bombing raids and subsequent battle which saw Königsberg reduced to ruins.
Fort Dönhoff : ammo boxes
Fort Dönhoff: historical information
I would have liked to have lingered longer here, but
Arthur was calling us into what was effectively a suite of rooms, three
interconnecting chambers that flanked the main entrance which, with their tall
archways and multiple vaulted ceilings, were deliciously Königsberg Gothic. In
here, the wall displays and glass cabinet containing both German and Soviet
firearms from WWII, were augmented with a large wall-mounted monitor on which a
video of the battle for Königsberg was running. From the presence of a longish
conference table, complete with modern chairs, their back supports decorated
armorial style, it would appear that this room was used for business meetings
and educational purposes. Arthur was particularly proud of the real wood floor
which, he surmised, would have been the status quo at the time when the fort
was constructed.
Fort Dönhoff: Conference table
It was explained to us before we continued our tour, that the two front radial arms of the fort had been the soldiers’ barracks, their living quarters.
When you first visit the fort, it is hard to visualise the layout, even with the help of plans which are dotted about on large display boards. For the novice visitor and us, effectively on our second visit, the initial and lasting impression is one of being swallowed up within a vast maze of corridors and arched-roof chambers. Obviously, electric lighting has been installed, but some areas are dimmer than others and others really quite dark. For the time being, however, the route we were on was figurable. On either side of the main entrance, long corridors run the length of the fort behind a series of arched rooms, the windows of which look out over the grassed bank and moat beyond. This would have been the view that the troops stationed here from the 19th century to the end of WWII would have had on a daily basis.
Passageway running the length of the barracks, Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad, Russia
As we walked, Arthur explained that these rooms were
at the forefront of the renovation process and would eventually be rented as
commercial units. All of the rooms were of the same proportion, except for the
first, this larger space having been arranged to accommodate parties over the
festive season. The main feature herein was the huge open fireplace with its
solid oak mantle beam.
Function room at Fort Dönhoff, destined to become the fort’s cafeteria
A unifying theme of both the left and right sections
of this area of the fort, and, indeed, throughout, was the application of the
portcullis-style doors, which fitted handsomely into the original archways and
were used to good effect in dividing the length of the corridors.
I asked Arthur how the entrance to each room would
have been originally, and he was able to show me, as one of the rooms was being
restored in order to demonstrate the original design. The arches to the front
of each room had been brick to the point where the verticals curved, with a
conventional door at the centre. The arched upper section would have been
filled with a wooden frame and windows.
Recreating the barrack-room experience! Soviet re-enactors’ beds
The chambers on the opposite side to the one we had
first visited were a mirror image, and, once again, contained relics and
artefacts associated with the history of the fort and Königsberg in general.
The first room had a giant plan of the fort on one side of the wall and, on the
other, a circle of ceramic plaques showing the outer circle of forts, including
Fort XI, with Königsberg at their centre.
Konigsberg’s outer ring of fortifications
The main suite of chambers here contained a modern, but refectory-style, table, and, if I remember correctly, recently these rooms had been used for holding parties.
Fort Dönhoff Caféteria
The design of the Königsberg forts was such that both sides had been constructed to include open yards. To get to these you have to pass through big, heavy iron doors. In fact, to get to anything here it’s big heavy iron doors! The yards are sunk well-like at ground level; they are valleys, with the ramparts of the superstructure rising precipitously above them on all sides. To get to the higher levels, you need to negotiate steep stairways or grassed tracks that rise gradually, but precipitously, along a lengthy incline. These yards are fitted with outbuildings sunk into the side of the banks, the exposed portions of their roofs grassed over, as is the fort in its entirety, making it look from the rooftop more like a giant mound covered in hills and valleys than a building. We would ascend to the roof in good time, but first it had done my chilled fingers and toes a power of good to see that in the corner of the yard was the welcoming sign of a café.
Cafe at Fort Dönhoff
Cafe at Fort Dönhoff: A welcome sight on a cold day!
Naturally, written in Cyrillic (isn’t my Russian
improving!), I was heartened to see that in keeping with the historical tenor
the sign was perfectly suited. It had been written, or painted, in hand and the
wooden frontage and doors below had a rough-hewn plank effect.
Inside, the accent was on basic; just as it should be. The natural stone floor and seats arranged down one side as a series of wooden box-frame units, painted to look distressed, ostracised any attempt at modernity, making for a completely inline atmosphere.
The interior of Fort Dönhoff’s atmospheric cafe
Before ordering something warm to drink, and a snack
to go with it, we were advised that quality and exotic coffees were the
specialities of the house, and I have to say that my choice, coffee with real
ginger, was superb.
Fort Dönhoff’s cafe: some of the most exotic and tasty coffee I have ever tasted!
Suitably replenished, we followed our guide into a
long passageway set into the side of the bank. He asked us to close our eyes
and imagine this as a street, with retail units of various kinds on either
side. So, I put on my architect’s head and what do you know, it worked!
Aren’t your toilets wonderful!
From this point onwards the exact route that we took
becomes a little blurred. We returned to the fort interior, checked out the
long, arched powder rooms, entered several narrow walkways, popped out again
into the open air, this being the opposite yard where in 2015 I had been filmed
by Moscow television coming out of one the historic toilet blocks and all I
could think of saying was, ‘the toilets are really wonderful’, returned inside,
climbed a very steep flight of steps and came out on the upper level
overlooking the entrance.
At this juncture, Arthur drew our attention to various scratched inscriptions in the walls and ceilings just behind the doorway. The names and their attendant dates largely belonged to the 1950s, and it was Arthur’s opinion that they had been incised there by a succession of lonely guards who, when the fort had been employed as a munitions store in Soviet times, would have been standing here in this doorway, rifle in hand, wracked with boredom.
Our excursion was now becoming more labyrinth-like by
the minute. We traced our steps, literally, to a lower level, and then climbed
a spiral staircase that brought us out on the top of the fort a few yards away
from the main entrance. Wooden decking had been laid here, on which there were
two park benches and, looking out towards Königsberg, a pair of coin-operated
binoculars raised on a metal stanchion.
Fort XI, Dönhoff, in World War II
From this point you could just make out using your own built-in optics a distant Kaliningrad. Said Arthur, “The fort garrison could clearly see from here the city of Königsberg going up in flames. The Soviet artillery was placed not much more than a metre apart and firing was so intense that some of the barrels were melting.” It was not surprising, therefore, that the morale of the German forces occupying the fort had, like the once grand city before them, disintegrated.
Grave of Soviet soldier
Not all of Königsberg’s ancient forts had been this fortunate: some saw heavy fighting during the battle for Königsberg, and some were reduced to rubble. Later, as we were walking back through the main tunnel, Arthur said with an ironic sigh, “Ahh, all this material and work ~ for nothing!” He referred to the fact that by the time Königsberg’s legendary fortifications had been completed, they were already out of date. Developments in artillery meant that the massive walls and ramparts offered little or no effective resistance and, of course, come aerial warfare they were all but perfectly redundant. The crowning irony has to be that whilst large swathes of Königsberg were wiped off the map in WWII, much of its fortifications survived the onslaught.
Back in 2020, on the grassy roof of the fort the Germans had bequeathed us, I marvelled at the garrison of chimneys marching across the skyline. Each red-brick chimney block, capped against the wind and rain, seemed to contain several flues. It was good to see one or two of them smoking. Arthur had informed us that they had undertaken assessments of all the flues in the rooms that had been earmarked for later use and all were in functionable order.
Since we were here last, in 2015, the trees, bushes and undergrowth sprouting from the roof of the fort had been done away with. It was now possible to stand on the entrance peninsular and look out over grassed areas that were not too far from golfing-green standard, except for the presence of tree stumps, and when we climbed to the highest point, and took up position at the base of the flagpole flying the Russian flag, the hills and dales of the rooftop landscape traversed with wooden walkways really was a sight to behold.
We ventured to the furthest extremity of the roof and looked out on the other side of the fort, where, extending from and behind the massy walls of the moat, more buildings were waiting among the trees to be renovated.
Gun emplacement on far side of Fort Dönhoff
Machine-gun post
At this moment, we were standing next to a great slab of concrete. It protruded from the ground at not much more than calf height and contained a pillar-box split, just wide and deep enough to peer through from the inside using a pair of binoculars or through which to mount a machine gun.
Arthur took us back into the fort so that we could see what this look-out/machine-gun post was like for the men who once were stationed here.
Our route took us past a peculiar tunnel, the walls and floor of which were almost smooth, that ran at a steep diagonal downwards. Apparently, it had once been a staircase, but some kind of high-powered incendiary device had been tested there, the heat from which had been so intense that it had literally melted the brickwork. The effect could clearly be seen and touched at the farthermost point of the ceiling, where the bricks resembled petrified jelly!
Incendiary experiment = brick meltdown! ~ Fort Dönhoff
We also passed some large oval iron plates in the
floor. These were trapdoors, which, when opened, would have allowed ammunition
to have been hoisted up from the floors below.
Trapdoors for elevating munitions to the upper storeys ~ Fort Dönhoff
We made it to the machine-gun nest, the last leg of the journey necessitating a short climb up a vertical ladder. Inside it was damp and claustrophobic, but those stationed inside would have had a narrow but commanding view over the moat. With a heavy machine gun trained on them from this elevated position many lives would need to be sacrificed before the fort could be stormed at this point.
Viewing & machine gun nest
View from slit window
We wended our way back from here to the lower level, where we were shown the fixtures and viewing windows to the right and left of the moat, where some kind of heavy cannons would have been trained, making any attempt to bridge the fort by boat a costly if nigh impossible one, and then we made our way back through a narrow corridor closer to the front of the fort.
I’ve never seen one as big as this before!
We had been talking about horses and stables when I thought I could smell hay and, hey presto!, at the end of the corridor in which we were standing was a room full of hay bales. Tempted to revert to my Judge Dread and Ivor Bigun upbringing, I won’t say it after all, but the occupant of this room was a large one ~ one of the biggest and most self-confident cockerels that I have ever clapped eyes on. He looked at us as if to say ‘follow me’, and led us through an open doorway onto the chilly embankment outside.
What a beauty!
We emerged about three-quarters of the way along the moat side, which put us in Funny Bunny country. Whilst Olga conversed with the cockerel, I observed three or four species of rabbit, the likes of which I had never beheld. I won’t dwell on this too much, as I have a friend in England who cannot stand rabbits. He claims that they were introduced to England by the ‘bloody Normans’, and that this was when for England ‘it all went wrong!’.
Tamelife at Fort Dönhoff
We had spent a splendid afternoon at Fort XI (Fort Dönhoff) and look forward to returning later in the year to see how things are progressing there. It is truly a marvelous and atmospheric place, particularly if, like me, you are only too pleased when the past catches up with you!
Venzel, Arthur & Mick in Arthur’s fort. Boys will always be boys!
When you visit the Kaliningrad region, put Fort XI (Dönhoff) high on your itinerary of must-see places. I assure you, you won’t regret it!
TOURIST INFORMATION BOARD Fort Dönhoff
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This article was originally posted to my blog on 24 January 2020 and revised on 4 May 2021. To preserve the historical integrity of this piece, the editorial revisions that I have made have been essentially confined to practical details, ie opening times, costs etc. For an update on Fort XI, please refer to my March 2021 post: Kaliningrad Hosts Retro Car Club Day.
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Essential details:
Fort XI Dönhoff Ulitsa Energetikov Kaliningrad Kaliningrad Oblast 236034
Opening times: The fort is open every day: Summer from 10am to 6pm; Winter from 10am to 5pm
Admission: 300 roubles Discount tickets 150 roubles (pupils and students, retirees, veterans of the Great Patriotic War, the disabled) Free admission for children under 7 years old
Sightseeing tours: Tours are provided free of charge On weekdays tours take place daily at 11am, 1pm, 3pm and 5pm At weekends and holidays at 11am 12 noon, 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm and 5pm Approximate duration of tour is one hour For groups of more than 10 people, advanced booking is required. Tel: +7 401 239 0699
The classic cars had been assembled in two parallel lines. Even though there were as many as 15 or 20, they were lost, engulfed by the vast piece of open ground on which they were parked in front of a landmark that has earnt itself the dubious reputation of being Kaliningrad’s most ugly whilst, ironically, most iconic post-war building.
I am referring, of course, to that concrete anomaly that replaced the beauty that was Königsberg Castle, the House of Soviets ~ a building much loved by western journalists in their quest to mythicise Russian austerity, and for all those who earnestly believe that nothing ever changes for the better, a reassuring reminder that their nihilism is not unfounded.
‘H’ for House of Soviets ~ it has the same ambiguous appeal as Marmite
Fort XI Kaliningrad: Retro Car Club Day
The classic cars lined up on the paved expanse belonged to members of the Kaliningrad Retro Car Club. The cars were standing in front of the House of Soviets as a prelude to being driven cavalcade fashion on to Fort Dönhoff, the eleventh of the twelve forts that form the outer ring of the city of Königsberg’s nineteenth century defence system.
As we were a few minutes early for kick-off, I used the time available to snap a few pictures, both of the cars and the House of Soviets. Rumour has it that after 50 years of non-occupation due to its having been constructed on ancient tunnels that rendered it unsafe the moment it was built (and yet it is still here?), the days of the controversial House of Soviets may be finally numbered. I can hear Elton singing “I’m still standing” and Leonard Cohen reminding us that “You hear these funny voices in the Tower of Song …”
How chilly it was on this late April day can be calculated from the thin blue palate of the sky and the fluffy white clouds skating across its surface. The breeze was slight, but whenever the sun disappeared behind one of these cotton-wool splodges, the 8 degrees that we had been promised by the weatherman dipped, and the chill factor bit home.
Nevertheless, after twelve months or more consigned for the most part to barracks on account of coronavirus, it was good to be out and about again, even quite amazing to be standing there permissibly in such an open and public space, with the tall buildings of the city in the background, the traffic bustling past and on the near horizon the always edifying and noble turret of Königsberg Cathedral.
Königsberg Cathedral as seen from the former castle site ~ Kaliningrad, April 2021
Now that all the crew had arrived, it was time that we set off, and today we were in for a treat. We would be travelling to Fort XI in our friend Arthur’s Volga.
I have had the opportunity to ride in two or three Volga classics since moving to Russia. I love the typical 1960s’ interior — the low-slung front bench seat, the colour scheme that replicates that of the car’s exterior, the busy chromium dashboard, column-change gear stick, and, most of all, the arched transparent speedometer which, in its hey day, was as space-age chic as Sputnik (see first image in this post).
Unfortunately, Arthur’s speedo has the irritating tendency when the car is in motion to chatter a lot, and as we accelerated on the outskirts of the city, the chattering increased with such velocity that Inara, Arthur’s wife, in a refreshing moment of complete indifference to the repressive nature of political correctness, made as if the noise was coming from a car-mounted submachine gun. For a fleeting second it looked as though she was wearing a small moustache and was that a wave she was giving or a rather silly salute?
Despite this fantasy, there was little doubt that we were not travelling in a 1939 Mercedes-Benz 770 Grosser Offener Tourenwagenas, not least because I have it on good authority that the suspension on this particular vehicle has a solid retaining quality, whereas, in my opinion, the Volga’s suspension is spongey, tending to rock the car about on Kaliningrad’s variable road surface like an afternoon romp on a waterbed.
From consideration of the vehicle’s suspension, I then found myself asking did Volgas, indeed any Russian cars of this period, have powered steering? I ask this question as it is a mystery to me whether our driver, Arthur, wrestles with the steering wheel because he has no choice, because it is required, or simply because it is his adopted driving style?
I do know that other drivers were pleased to see the old girl on the road ~ and I don’t mean my wife. Numerous cars tooted respectfully at the unusual sight of the senior citizen bouncing across the city ~ and I do mean the car, not me.
Fort XI Kaliningrad by retro car
We were jolting along the approach road to Fort XI, when our hitherto uneventful journey took a dramatic turn for the worst. Suddenly, Arthur switched off the engine, and we coasted the last few metres, arriving at the side of the carpark under a cloud of steam.
Thankfully, the fault was not a serious one. The articulated radiator screen, which should have been open, had closed itself, either because of a broken piece of wire or for want of a screw (steady!). Whichever it was, willing helpers from the car club were immediately on hand and the problem was resolved within minutes, demonstrating how, when cars were honestly mechanical, not stuffed with computerised gismos as they are today, all it would take was a little know-how, a spanner and a screwdriver and a quick-fix would be implemented.
Arrival at Fort XI Kaliningrad
As we rolled past the perimeter gate of Fort Dönhoff, with the soldier’s grave to the left and the Soviet barb-wired emplacements to the right, I recalled my first visit to this heritage site back in 2015 and our last visit, which took place at the end of January 2020.
I wondered how this massive conservation/renovation programme had fared during the past 15 coronavirus months and how badly if at all the pandemic restrictions had affected business. Taking into consideration Russia’s nationwide policy to boost home tourism, whatever the downside, I reasoned, it had to be a good deal less dramatic than the impact Covid restrictions is having on business in western Europe.
Once the cars had been lined up exhibition fashion in front of the left arm of the fort, Olga and I decided to go and see what changes had taken place since we were last here.
Cars in the process of being lined up at the front of the fortBring on the BMWs!A German fort has to have a Volkswagen
I recalled Arthur ~ not Arthur of Kaliningrad Retro Club fame, but Arthur the man in charge of Fort XI’s reincarnation ~ saying on our last visit that he visualised one corridor inside the fort becoming a trading and exhibition street, so we decided to check this out first, stopping off on the way to rekindle some warmth over a cup of tea in the fort’s cafeteria.
Fort XI Kaliningrad developments
The vison of the ‘street’ had indeed been brought to fruition and atmospherically so. On our previous visit, you had to appreciate the vision with little vision, as the tunnel was lightless. But now illumination there was, set just at the right level so that you could see what you needed to see without compromising atmosphere.
I apologise to anybody if I have omitted them and their enterprise from this list, but, working from memory, on one side of the street the chambers leading from the main tunnel housed an antique shop, a coffee shop, a jewellers and amber specialist’s shop, an exhibition of military items leading to an evocative display at the base of the melted staircase (see my previous post on Fort XI Dönhoff) and a ‘rifle range’. On the opposite side the vaulted rooms had been opened up to allow access to the curious: one long, arched chamber contained haunting images of Königsberg as it had been before the war and as it was later, after the RAF had bombed it and after the battle for the city; whilst another room, judging by the cumbersome apparatus contained within it, appeared to be the fort’s original boiler house.
Each room in the fortress is lovingly festooned with educational wall boards, which no doubt inform you of each exhibit and the interdependence that each room had to the fort’s military effectiveness, but, alas, as my ability to translate Russian is not as good as it should be I had to rely for the most part on my own perspicacity. And, it would seem, as my eyesight is not as good as it once was, I completely failed to notice that the newly erected ‘you are here’ boards, strategically placed in the tunnels and corridors, are all equipped with English translations. So, like the explorers of old, I plotted my course with vicissitude!
The past’s presence in Fort XI Kaliningrad
Standing once again in the main tunnel, taking my photographs, I became aware of the strange hush that descends on visitors once they have been swallowed up inside the fort’s subterranean maze, the possible joint consequence of acoustic absorption by the high, arched ceilings, the awesome madness of the construction in terms of sheer size and scale and the impenetrability of trying to imagine what it would have been like to have been a soldier stationed here, sentenced to serve and live in the echoing twilight of this vast brick warren.
Relics of war …
Consulting my inbuilt compass, which seems to work on the principal of a magnetic attraction to vodka, I returned to the comparative warmth of the outside world and on the way met Arthur, architect of the fort’s restoration.
We had ‘bumped into’ him and his wife earlier in the café where we had briefly discussed ‘work ongoing’ and, meeting with him now, were privileged to be offered a tour of some of the other parts of the fort that we had visited last year, to see the changes that had been made.
The rooms and associated area focusing upon Königsberg’s war-time history and the fort’s involvement in the siege of Königsberg had undergone a rationalised re-configuration. The cabinet and wall displays of WWII Soviet weaponry, uniformed mannequins and such had been added to and re-assigned, and a wheel-mounted machine gun ~ possibly a DShK 1938 ~ took pride of place in the centre of the room (the sight of such a weapon would be enough to throw our British-Soviet re-enactors into uncontrollable raptures!). Likewise, the study area, complete with white board and electronic visual and auditory equipment, had been tweaked and moved to a better location. Last year these rooms had been good; now they were professional.
Soviet WWII Weapons
Maxim Machine Gun Fort XI
Our next stop was a large room, composed of three or four chambers, which, I seem to recall from our last visit, had been used for social functions. Indeed, this spacious room, with its grand open fireplace, would seem to make the perfect place for venues. However, we learnt today that it had been reassigned as a museum of fortification, whose educational resources were to be augmented using state-of-the-art virtual-reality.
As exciting as this promised to be, I have to admit I was disappointed. I suppose because I saw this room as the right place for a Wetherspoon’s pub ~ but, hey now, isn’t that typically me!
What our small party agreed on was that the rooms and corridors into which we had been shown were nice and warm, but lordy! — imagine how difficult and how expensive it must be to heat something of this magnitude!
From this suite of rooms we were taken outside across one of the interior grassed quadrangles, along a block-paved path to a door in one of the adjacent banks. I could see as we approached that this entrance had been tidied up and, indeed, fitted with one of Fort XI’s signature gridiron doors, two in fact, the interior one serving as an airlock to keep in the warmth from the central heating.
One of Fort XI’s Inner quadrangles
Quadrangle seen from opposite direction
Inside, electric lighting clearly testified to the fact that a great deal of work had been undertaken in restoring the brickwork both in the walls and the floor. Apparently, each brick had been painstakingly cleaned by hand.
A spiral staircase inset in the wall led into a long chamber, wide enough to hold two tiers of desks. Above this chamber, accessible by the same staircase, lies a second chamber of identical proportions. And in each, as in almost every room in the fort, there are professionally designed and attractive wall-mounted information boards.
It looked like a school, and it was. Once complete, this combination of rooms is destined to facilitate Fort XI’s Spy School ~ an educational experience from which one will eventually graduate knowing all there is to know about the art, science and history of spying. Call me Maxwell Smart, I thought, as we descended the spiral staircase.
On our way back to base, I praised Arthur for the sterling work he and his crew had achieved in the past year, to which he graciously but wryly responded, as he did last year, there is still a great deal to do, adding that his reward for orchestrating the never-ending project lay in the cultural service that he was providing.
That is the joy of spending time with time travellers and historians. It is not just their knowledge that attracts but their love of the past in whatever form it takes to float their boat, and that obviously goes for cars as well.
Russian classic car enthusiasts are no different from their British counterparts in this respect, although, needless to say, in Russia the social dimension shines. The car club is just that: a club. The people all club together, muck in together, bring food, tea, coffee and picnic tables to each venue that they inhabit, ensuring that the day becomes an enjoyable social occasion.
On this occasion, music was also provided courtesy of a vintage USSR radio, and for those of us who were passengers, and thus relieved of the responsibility of being behind the wheel, vodka was also at hand. Don’t drink and drive! This is how the slogan went. Wise words indeed. Could this be the reason why I gave up driving years ago?
After Arthur’s tour, we made our way back to our retro club friends, who were enjoying the sunshine in spite of the chill that its presence had failed to entirely eradicate.
Some of the car owners had brought along Soviet-era samovars: big, nickel-plated kettles with chimneys on the top. This would be the first time that I would get to see them in action.
Olga and I have always wanted a samovar, so that we can react the counting-the-stars scene in Hedgehog in the Fog.
At present, we only have a couple of plug-in electric samovars, which are all well and good as curiosity pieces, but to enjoy the real experience of tea-making using a samovar you really do have to feed it with made-to-measure kindling wood, then stand back whilst the water boils and watch as the chimney smokes!
The carnival atmosphere around the car and picnic tables also seemed to appeal to the fort’s four legged critters. It brought out the resident funny bunnies and, not to be left out, even a duck got in on the act.
Teased by the sun and a sporadic stiff breeze, the day had all the makings of being a cold one, but the warmth of human interaction, good company and a genuine sense of camaraderie ~ all of the human values that coronavirus restrictions have threatened to deprive us of over the past 12 months ~ proved their vital importance, reminding us in timely fashion that there is only one true normal, which if taken away leaves nothing.
The historic setting added its own unique ambience. Fort XI is an inspiration —the perfect place to realise that there is no time like the past. It is a true gateway into Königsberg and its region; an ongoing restoration project of no small magnitude celebrating history even as it continues to be history in the making.
On the subject of time, I am not sure what the soldiers billeted here in their past-present thought of our antics today, but with history being so vibrant and so alive within the walls of Dönhoff, you feel you can almost ask them? Perhaps when you visit you will?
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Essential details:
Fort XI Dönhoff Ulitsa Energetikov Kaliningrad Kaliningrad Oblast 236034
Opening times: The fort is open every day: Summer from 10am to 6pm; Winter from 10am to 5pm
Admission: 300 roubles Discount tickets 150 roubles (pupils and students, retirees, veterans of the Great Patriotic War, the disabled) Free admission for children under 7 years old
Sightseeing tours: Tours are provided free of charge On weekdays tours take place daily at 11am, 1pm, 3pm and 5pm At weekends and holidays at 11am 12 noon, 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm and 5pm Approximate duration of tour is one hour For groups of more than 10 people, advanced booking is required. Tel: +7 401 239 0699
Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)
Article 13: Czech Recipe Beer
Published: 26 April 2021
Hitler may have referred to England as a nation of shopkeepers, but back in the day when England was England, before it became what it is today (R.I.P. England), I, and many of my contemporaries, considered England to be not only a nation of beer drinkers, but the nation of beer drinkers. So, it might surprise you to learn that it is in fact Czechoslovakia that holds the official title of being the most beer-sodden country in the world.
According to official beer-drinking records, the boozy Czechs knock back more beer per capita than anybody else, anywhere else. But take heart dear Brits! As beer in Czechoslovakia is, like everywhere else on the opposite side of the Channel, lager, and in Czechoslovakia dominated by Pilsner lager, we Brits can still claim with pride and satisfaction that the UK is the only country in the world in which two great institutions, real ale and the public house, have come together over the centuries to form a unique drinking culture. (Spirit-lifting background music of ‘Real Ale Britannia, Real Ale rules the craves, thanks to Fox and Farage Brits will never be PC slaves!’)
“Good evening landlord, a pint of Farage please.”
“Would that be a pint of ‘Farage Best He Made Them Bitter’ or a pint of ‘Farage Patriot’?”
But we are not here today to talk about national institutions, history and how the unholy trinity, Politics~Globalism~Pandemic-scare, are out to eradicate them, or to dwell forlornly on poor cold, wet and shivering Brits sitting in pub beer gardens six feet apart from one another sipping ale through a useless mask. No, we are here today, in the here and now, to consider the merits/demerits of a Russian beer known as Czech Recipe. Whether the recipe is Czech or simply called Czech Recipe, as Czechs and beer go together like volume and ringing cash registers, I will leave to your discretion.
Nowhere near as exciting by name as Farage’s ‘EU Looking at Me!’ bitter, or BLM’s ‘Churchill Still Stands’ jet-black porter, Czech Recipe might sound like a cake mix, which comes in a bottle just short of 1.5 litres, has a green label and the name in olde worlde script, but contrarily this light, filtered, live beer produced by the Lipetsk brewery is quite a tasty brew.
Green in colour, until you take the top off the bottle and pour it into your glass, Czech Recipe has a pale golden hue, a faint aroma of no particular kind (so forget about all those pretentious beer reviews that compare it to Elton John’s piano, with ‘notes’ of this and ‘notes’ of that) and a foamy head that could not recede faster were it wearing a loose-fitting toupée.
Sip ~ it’s zesty.
Sip ~ it’s tangy.
Gulp ~ it’s crisp.
Gulp gone ~ it is very refreshing …
Czech Recipe is all these things, and it is also 4.7%.
The aftertaste, which is so important whatever beer you are quaffing, because it is this that keeps you quaffing, is dry. In fact, it is very dry. ‘Nuts!’ you say, and you are right. The dry, crisp aftertaste is what makes it the perfect complement to nuts and other snacks. It teases the palate, without raping it, and offers a flirtatious relationship free from guilt ~ even though it is not real ale. It is, in fact, the sort of Czech you could easily take home to meet your mum. Strong to a degree but, as Leonard Cohen sang (I don’t know whether he drank it?) ‘It’s light, light enough to let it go …’
Czech Recipe Beer in Kaliningrad
The world’s perception of Czech beer is Pilsner and, since I am no great fan of Pilsner, I get all suspicious and cautious about buying it. Usually, I will stand there in the shop staring at it, thinking ‘dare I’? Czech Recipe could have been a recipe for a taste disaster, but it bucked the trend (yes, I have spelt it right) and once sampled left me feeling as happy as a pig in … a large grass field.
A lot of the beers that I have been drinking in Kaliningrad ~ not that I have been drinking a lot, you understand, it’s just an expression ~ is much stronger than the 4.2 percent I would normally go for was I drinking in England (voice in the two and six pennies, “Yeah, leave it out …!”). But, I have found that often the lighter strength beers here are light on taste and flavour, and you need to buy something with a bit more welly to compensate (same voice, “Strewth, I’ve ‘eard it all now!”).
Czech Recipe fills the gap in the market and fills it nicely. It is a reasonably strong beer, but one that is more concerned with delivering taste than with blowing your pants and socks off ~ and that’s fine by me, for the last thing that I want is to be left standing there with a Czech in my hand wearing nothing but my cravat.
Well, my bars nearly open, so note the essentials below, put your trainers on and hot foot it down to the shop. Buy yourself some of the Recipe and see for yourself.
If my appraisal is wrong, I’ll let you buy me a bottle.
😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS Name of Beer: Czech Recipe Brewer: Lipetsk Brewery Where it is brewed: Lipetsk, Russia Bottle capacity: 1.42 litres Strength: 4.7% Price: It cost me about 147 rubles (£1.41) Appearance: Pale golden Aroma: I haven’t decided Taste: Zesty, refreshing, hoppy with dry aftertaste Fizz amplitude: 6/10 Label/Marketing: Old School Would you buy it again? I have done Marks out of 10: 6.5+
*Note that the beers that feature in this review series only include bottled beer types that are routinely sold through supermarket outlets and in no way reflect the variety of beer and/or quality available in Kaliningrad from speciality outlets and/or through bars and restaurants.
Published: 22 April 2021 ~ Architectural Surprises on the Zelenogradsk Coast
The following photographs were taken whilst walking the Zelenogradsk coastal route, starting from the promenade end and heading away from the town. To the left lies the land; to the right, on the other side of the hedge, the Baltic Sea.
The route is divided into two sections, as indicated by different shades of block paving. One of these is the pedestrian walkway; the other accommodates all manner of locomotion. Which one is which is given away slightly by the presence of broken lane markings that run along the centre of the narrower strip.
Whilst this ‘road’ is closed to conventional vehicular traffic, among the roller bladers, skateboarders, bicycle and electric-powered scooter riders, small open-sided ‘buses’ can be seen trundling past at regular intervals crammed with tourists and those just unwilling to walk the not insubstantial distance that lies between the end of the prom and the white sandy beaches beyond. From one end of this route to the other is quite a trek, so if you are not much of a walker, all you need to do is hop onto one of these charabancs and away you go.
Architectural surprises on the Zelenogradsk coast
The first building to be photographed was this modern hotel peeping through the silver birch trees from behind a rather impressive wall of brick and granite construction, which has a wrought-iron railing top backed by translucent polycarbonate privacy panels. Such screens are ubiquitous in this part of the world, as is block paving. Whoever it was who introduced them it was not me, but, from a commercial viewpoint, I sincerely wished it had been.
Photograph 1: First hotel on the Zelenogradsk coastal route
I suppose as modern buildings go, from the angle of this first photograph it all looks fairly prosaic, the functional attraction lying in those long, sweeping, curved balconies, which, I should imagine, guarantees discerning hotel guests a magnificent sea view.
Moving along a little, it soon becomes apparent that what we have been looking at a moment ago is merely a wing extending from the main body of the building (photo 2).
Photograph 2: A wing of a very capacious hotel
Photograph 2 is a shot looking back at the wing, detailing both the curved balconies mentioned earlier and, above them, in the roof, recessed balconies of the sort that feature extensively in the design of the Hotel Russ, Svletogorsk’s premier hotel, which, sadly, if my informants do not deceive me, has recently closed.
Photograph 3: Hotel entrance
Photograph 3 reveals the front of the hotel, a solid-looking establishment with large arched windows, a tier of ‘porthole’ windows above and a grand entrance extension, the curved top an enclosed balcony in glass and below a recessed entrance hall fronted by a colonnade which supports the upper balcony.
The fourth photograph shows the cloistered effect achieved by the colonnades and gives some indication of the not inconsiderable space occupied by this building.
Photograph 4: Side view showing the cloistered extension of the entrance
Photograph 5 is taken looking away from the corner of the last building depicted. The brick pier wall continues and behind a solid gate, accessible via intercom system only (they like that sort of thing here, as well), sits another hotel, set back from the road, its central tower and turret paying appreciable homage to the architectural Gothic legacy from which it is descended, a striking feature reflected in and harmonised by the pitched window gables surmounting the rooftop balconies.
Photograph 5: In the Gothic style ~ Architectural Surprises on the Zelenogradsk Coast
As in the first hotel, the second design also favours roundel windows, and these are apparent yet again, but on a much larger scale, in the massy and incomplete edifice looming out of the background.
Photograph 6: Windows aplenty through which to see the sea
Photograph 6 depicts the curvilinear glass and steel structure of the furthermost point of the first hotel, whilst 7 gives you a fuller perspective of the Gothicised structure as seen above the entrance gate.
Photograph 7: Closer look at Gothic styling
The hulking monolith captured in photograph 8 reminds me of the J-hangar still resident on the site of Polebrook Aerodrome in the UK, a former US air base left over from World War II.
Photograph 8: Big and yet unfinished ~ Architectural Surprises on the Zelenogradsk Coast
In this picture, the building takes on the appearance of two half segments of a giant arch but as a later photo reveals (photo 11), taken from the opposite end of the building, the effect is an illusory one, as the unfinished project is missing its central vertical section which, had it been in place, would have completed the visual aspect of single-span uniformity.
From the distance, it appears as if the hulk is wearing my Uncle Son’s string vest, but at closer quarters it looks the same. The green string undergarment, which must have once been used, I presume, to screen the unfinished structure, is somewhat tattered and torn and now simply hangs there, adding to the forlorn neglect with which the building is heavily imbued. There is little doubt from the round tower, half risen at the front of the building (photo 9), that at its conception ‘big’ had gone hand in hand with grand, but unless something dramatic happens and happens fairly quickly, call me presumptuous if you will, I feel that there is little chance of booking a room in this hotel at any time in the near future.
Photograph 9: A would-be grand entrance
Photograph 10: Not quite complete
After this cavalcade of large and impressive, it is odd and oddly reassuring to discover that the landscape suddenly changes, revealing two normal-sized single residences, both senior in years to the previous buildings, sitting favourably in decent-sized plots behind a lush, green privet hedge. (photo 10)
Photograph 10: Houses of some age along the Zelenogradsk coastal route
The first house has had a recent makeover. Its original terracotta pantiled roof, which may have been replaced after the war with asbestos, as is the case on the house adjacent, having been fitted with a metal roof of tiled terracotta profile. Note the use of pretty carved edging boards, picking out the gradient of the Dorma windows and the nuanced roof levels, a theme accentuated by the blue and white fascia boards that run along the recessed gabled ends and emerge again in the blue window shutters, all of which make for an attractive cottage effect.
Photograph 11: Different scales, different times: cottage & hotel
Photograph 11 also gives you an accurate idea of the scale differential between the J-hangar and the house I have just described.
The next house along (photo12) is obviously nowhere near as quaint and fetching as its neighbour, and may in fact be flats, but the roof format is novel and so far the building has survived land grab for development.
Photograph 12: A residential property overlooking the sea in Zelenogradsk, Russia
We now come to that part of the coastal route where a conglomeration of different buildings vie for visual attention, the scene dominated by one incredibly large but incomplete hotel, which out-scales everything else around it (photograph 13).
Photograph 13: One of those ‘you can’t miss it’ hotels ~ Architectural Surprises on the Zelenogradsk Coast
Disequilibrium of scale is nowhere more easily demonstrated than in the stark juxtaposition of the towering grey colossus with its single domicile rectangular neighbour (photograph 14).
Photograph 14: Built in the Modernist style
Built in the contemporary Modernist style, David is to Goliath what light is to dark, and whilst I am only guessing mind, since the owners have not asked me round to consider the finer points of their property, from ergonomics to materials used, in fact everything about this house, speaks to me of ‘smart home’. Take the precedence, for example, of the cut around in the fence to make way for the pampered bough of that tree (photos 15 & 16). How many trees either have their more assertive branches lopped off or have to wait a100 years or more before they can force their will upon a constraining fence? Not many trees can boast the patronage of such an ecologically enlightened owner as the one who designed, planned, built or simply resides and enjoys this light, airy, modern abode.
Photograph 15: Tree with a view
Photograph 16: A tree-friendly fence
Three paragraphs back I used the phrase ‘conglomeration of different’ buildings, and you can see what I am getting at in photographs 17 and 18. Photograph 17 reveals a building defined by steel, glass and cladding, which mixes its angles with its curves in such a way that it would not be out of place situated among the first of London’s Dockland’s building’s that popped up futuristically above the lines of Victorian terraces during Maggie Thatcher’s reign.
Photograph 17: Not London Dockland’s but a building on Zelenogradsk’s coastline
The commercial building in photograph 18 follows the lines of the former, but the brick fascia softens and traditionalises the general impression, and the pale colour scheme, quite by chance I am sure, falls satisfactorily into the company by which it is overshadowed.
Photograph 18: A gallery of windows from which to see the sea
Putting things into perspective, photograph 19 provides a view of the commercial building framed against the back of its ‘Dockland’s’ neighbour, whilst the long shot in photograph 20 freezes two people in time on their bicycles and pins down the scale differential of the adjacent buildings.
Photograph 19: New-builds in relation to one anotherPhotograph 20: Putting it into perspective
Next on the list, photographs 21 and 22 spell tasteful. This house, houses, apartments ~ what do you think? ~ synthesise modern lines with a diamond-shaped brick-infilled frieze, the type of which is evident on a number of Königsberg buildings extant in Kaliningrad.
Photograph 21: Architectural surprises on Zelenogradsk coastal route
Photograph 22: A residence of class
The overall impression is an amalgamation of the past and the present; bold but not brash; and you have to like the look and feel of those three-section big arched windows.
Whilst there is no shortage of different, alternating, archaic, modern, breathtaking, surprising, lavish, opulent, historic and ‘you name it, it’s here’ type of architecture in and around Kaliningrad, what is surprising, given the rest of the prolificity and sweeping variation in design and style, is the indisputable fact that the region as a whole finds itself extremely fence-challenged ~ more about that in a later article.
I would like to think that the old, tin, corrugated fence that encloses the properties in photograph 23 is not a woeful misjudgment made both by restrictions of budget and limited DIY skills but is merely a temporary fixture, knocked up to conceal ongoing building or garden work. This may well be the case, although whilst construction site hoarding in this part of the world is commonly metal and corrugated, it is usually identified by rather garish alternating blue and white panels, whereas home-owners’ fences can be anything in the same material from glistening silver to chocolate brown. In this instance, along this exclusive stretch of beautiful coastline, let us pray for respect and sanity and keep our fingers crossed!
Photograph 23: Lovely houses ~ shame about that fence!
The first house that rises in tone as well as substance above the offending fence is not the heretic that you might think it is. It could be a remodelled German house or a new-build that has been given the half-timbered look, either by adding the requisite woodwork or painting it on to achieve the desired effect (photo 23). Along this coastal strip it is, by virtue of its standalone difference, yet another example of the energised eclecticism that devolves to the individual if left to his own devices, free, that is, from the overwhelming behests and underwhelming mediocrity imposed by stolid planning restrictions.
Whilst this may be the only example of a love affair with medievality on this particular route, it is not alone. A number of revamped and new-build properties in and around the Kaliningrad region are in receipt of half-timbered dressing, and even high-rise tower blocks have not been deemed exempt.
The house depicted here wears it well, and heralds at this point on our route a return to in-scale housing, as illustrated in photographs 24 and 25.
Photograph 24: Attractive house on Zelenogradsk coast
Photograph 25: An individual approach
Admittedly, the intervening presence of a compact castle, built of or faced with red brick, intrudes somewhat (photograph 26), but for me and all like me who went Gothic when Goth subculture and steampunk were just a twinkle in a fad-fashion eye, the question what is not to like about a building overlooking the sea which has a tower to the front and flanking turrets on all four corners is one that need not be asked. One presumes, however, that the roofline has yet to be finished, and one would hope that such completion will entail the suitable erection of conical rooves on top of the central tower and the four adjoining emplacements. Photograph 27 shows the ‘castle’ from the return direction of the coastal route with the half-timbered residence to its left.
Photograph 26: A Russian man’s home is his castle!
Photograph 27: A castle & a half-timbered house
To end this tour, I include for your delectation three more photographs exemplifying the widely contrasting nature of architectural genres with which this magnificent stretch of the coast has been populated.
The first (photograph 28), is what I think of as the route’s halfway house. It is a hotel/restaurant/bar, whose architectural style is a flamboyant composite, a self-contained contrast that reflects the divergent compositions of which it is a part. For example, the balconies on the first floor could have mirrored those above them, not only in style but also in materials, but why not have Art Deco curves made from masonry on one level below a platform base supporting angled wrought-iron fencing on the next? More angularity is achieved in the vertical triangulated stairwell window, which is escorted on either side above eaves level by a pair of Gothic parapet piers surmounted with sloping tiles, whilst the roof itself manages a low pitch profile thanks to the two hulking chimney stacks that rise up from the back like mighty sentinels.
Photograph 28: Working out the angle ~ Zelenogradsk’s coastal route’s halfway house
The penultimate photograph (29) shows what happens when true juxtaposition is given free reign. The neoclassical addition in the background, which rubs shoulders with the angular pastiche in photograph 28, is yet another surprise on the architectural catwalk along which we have walked together. It is referred to in a previous post: An Introduction to the Zelenogradsk Coastal Route.
Photograph 29: Architectural Surprises on the Zelenogradsk Coast
And the last photograph in this post (30) is reserved for what used to be and thankfully still is — a survivor of the ever-changing present. It even has a proper wooden fence!
Photograph 30: Architectural Surprises on the Zelenogradsk Coast ~ my kind of place ….
Containing an appraisal of Art Village Vitland 8 January 2026 – Art Village Vitland: beautiful beachfront on the Baltic I was no stranger to this track; to call it a road would be too complimentary. I had walked it once before, but, on the last occasion of doing so, the going had been dry underfoot,… Читать далее: Art Village Vitland: beautiful beachfront on the Baltic
A day out at the Baltic Coast 28 August 2025 – My Special Day Out in Svetlogorsk by Mick Hart Don’t you just hate it when you mislay something? It’s so frustrating, isn’t it? This year I have had trouble remembering what I’ve done with summer. I recall someone saying, “Hooray, summer is here!”, and… Читать далее: My Special Day Out in Svetlogorsk by Mick Hart
It’s quite simple, really: If you love marzipan, this is where to go 23 January 2025 ~ Resort Shop Zelenogradsk a Must for Marzipan The reason why many people have never heard of Königsberg is that in 1945 it ceased to exist. Very few people make the connection between the Königsberg that was and the… Читать далее: Resort Shop Zelenogradsk a Must for Marzipan
Over the wire the buzz word is Telegraph 25 October 2024 ~ Telegraph Restaurant Zelenogradsk Wired for Quality “It’s all so confusing,” so says a friend of mine and quite often. He’s a scientist, now retired, so he should know. And he’s referring to life. When I echo his sentiments, “It’s all so confusing,” he… Читать далее: Telegraph Restaurant Zelenogradsk Wired for Quality
Bussing it around the Kaliningrad region 31 July 2024 ~ See Kaliningrad Region by Coach What is it about coach-based tours that have long been unappealing to me? And, if I faithfully eschewed them in the UK, why would I volunteer to go on one, here, in Kaliningrad? Well, I certainly had the means, the… Читать далее: See Kaliningrad Region by Coach
Seeing the sites in sight of the sea in Zelenogradsk
Published: 19 April 2021
Preface
This post is based on an extract from an entry in my 2020 diary, written last August, which I would like to use as a prelude to a pictorial piece on the architecture lining the coastal route in the seaside resort of Zelenogradsk on the Baltic Coast in the Kaliningrad region of Russia.
Last May, and subsequent to it, articles began to appear both in Russian and international media, some favourable, some not, which reported that as coronavirus strengthened its grip a boom in domestic tourism had been sparked in Russia to take advantage of and to compensate for closed borders and international travel restrictions {Russia Wants to Spark a Domestic Tourism Boom. Will It Work? ~ The Moscow Times}
Zelenogradsk has a wonderful, long, broad sandy beach, more than enough space to accommodate this year’s influx of tourists. And all you need if you require a more secluded spot is to take the coastal path away from the centre and head off in the direction of the Curonian Spit.
We all know that walking is supposed to be good for you, but should you prefer to travel on wheels, you can always take one of the little six-to-eight-seater charabancs that buzz up and down the vehicular lane along the coastal route. Alternatively, you could rent yourself a bicycle for the day, or a small pedal go-kart, which accommodates a ‘driver’ and a passenger, or invest in one of those zippy little electric scooters that are fast becoming the most fashionable way of adding yourself to motorisation.
Whatever your choice of locomotion, It is worth taking the coastal route just to witness the diverse array of non-pedestrian options whizzing up and down, from the relatively mundane to the unreal, weird and whacky.
An Introduction to the Zelenogradsk Coastal Route
I am never quite sure what to call this stretch of, er? — this route. ‘Track’ creates the impression of something mud-like winding through the dunes and undergrowth; ‘path’ limits it to a contagion of plodding feet; and ‘road’ makes it sound like the M25. In essence, it is a combination of all three ideas, except that it has a block-paved hard surface, is essentially straight, is too wide to call a path and being closed to regular traffic cannot be called a road.
Although motor vehicles of the regular variety are prohibited, as I mentioned earlier, things with engines attached other than human legs do traverse it as, at the same time, so do feet.
Basically, the route is divided into two parts: one side, the broader of the two, is reserved for pedestrian access; the other, about three times the width of a standard bicycle lane, is allocated for vehicles and is divided yet again into two directional lanes.
On the landward side of this route, it is competition time for who can build the biggest and most impressionable hotel. They come in all shapes and in very large sizes, but most share an architectural predilection for the curvilinear forms utilised so memorably, and thus so effectively, in earlier Art Deco building formats.
Brought up to date in the early twenty-first century with the accent on glass and plenty of it, the semi-circular portico and centralised tower stairwell are particularly popular features in these ‘look, I can see the sea!’ hotels.
The odd one out in this nuanced continuity, which diverges in no uncertain terms from the prevalence of the others, is that which in its fundamental shape, external facings and decorative embellishments is a dead ringer for the sort of neoclassical hall that you would expect to find, and do, in the heart of the English countryside.
Neoclassical design on Zelinogradsk’s coastal route
Grandeur of scale, geometrical lines, functional columns, dentil moulding, cornices and balustrades, this building has the lot, and perhaps even a little more besides, for I have noticed that when modern Russian architectural design emulates the ideas of an earlier aesthetic period, imitation is not nearly enough when opportunity allows to surpass.
An Introduction to the Zelenogradsk Coastal Route
A sight that may not be exclusive to this part of the world or to Russia generally, but is ubiquitous enough to place it in a national context, is the unfinished, ‘grey scale’ construction. I have not counted them, but there are perhaps as many unfinished hotels along this route as there are complete ones, although, given the success story of Russia’s incentivised holiday-at-home programme and, news just in, that most of the region’s hotels are already fully booked for the 2021 summer season, it may possibly not be long before these redundant-before-completion hulks are finally brought to life.
The view from here will be spectacular once they finish building it …
In addition to hotels, also on this route you will see the last remaining but inevitably fleeting glimpse of homes that hark back to the days when Zelinogradsk was Germany’s Cranz. Although these buildings, once reasonably grand but modest by today’s standards and made doubly so by their bold new companions, display all kinds of interesting and sometimes quite astonishing DIY distortions enacted during the Soviet era, their quaint construction and kinder presence on the environmental scale can still be felt and appreciated, and it is a great pity that given the premium placed on the land that these houses occupy that it is only a matter of time, I suspect, before they are rubbed out and in the name of progress replaced by more of the same by which they are surrounded.
A Cranz home being restored along the Zelenogradsk coastal route
This stretch of road, causeway, path ~ call it what you will ~ does not go on forever. In fact, it runs out rather abruptly, interrupted by a tall and fairly non-descript hotel and thereafter a series of ground and one-storey flats with, at the rear, integral garages, tiny yards cloaked with high walls and that decidedly late Russian phenomenon, the massy wrought iron gate translucently obscured by polycarbonate sheeting.
An Introduction to the Zelenogradsk Coastal Route
At any point along this route, it is possible that you may wish to descend to the beach below, which is something that you can do thanks to thoughtful sequences of broad steps provided at regular intervals. There is one last chance to do the same at the front of the tall hotel, after which, if you want to proceed further, needs must that you hang a hard left. This takes you into a paved area fronted by what once must have been flats par excellence, but which have lately been dwarfed and left behind by one of the most amazing seaside residential developments ~ amazing both in scale and style extravaganza~ that has ever taken me by surprise whilst I was going around the bend.
But, in the last analysis, if, for some peculiar and indefinable reason, you are not taking this route to look at the buildings, then on the other side of the road, over the hedge, you will see the sea. In late summer, on this stretch of land, I have had the good fortune to witness some of the most sublime sunsets that I have ever encountered, which is another feather in the hotel cap along this particular road, track, path, walkway, esplanade or route. Call it what you will, if you are holidaying in this region don’t forget to travel it or, better still, book yourself an exclusive view from one of the splendid finished hotels. Either way, you won’t be disappointed.
Sunset: An Introduction to the Zelenogradsk Coastal Route
Containing an appraisal of Art Village Vitland 8 January 2026 – Art Village Vitland: beautiful beachfront on the Baltic I was no stranger to this track; to call it a road would be too complimentary. I had walked it once before, but, on the last occasion of doing so, the going had been dry underfoot,… Читать далее: Art Village Vitland: beautiful beachfront on the Baltic
A day out at the Baltic Coast 28 August 2025 – My Special Day Out in Svetlogorsk by Mick Hart Don’t you just hate it when you mislay something? It’s so frustrating, isn’t it? This year I have had trouble remembering what I’ve done with summer. I recall someone saying, “Hooray, summer is here!”, and… Читать далее: My Special Day Out in Svetlogorsk by Mick Hart
It’s quite simple, really: If you love marzipan, this is where to go 23 January 2025 ~ Resort Shop Zelenogradsk a Must for Marzipan The reason why many people have never heard of Königsberg is that in 1945 it ceased to exist. Very few people make the connection between the Königsberg that was and the… Читать далее: Resort Shop Zelenogradsk a Must for Marzipan
Over the wire the buzz word is Telegraph 25 October 2024 ~ Telegraph Restaurant Zelenogradsk Wired for Quality “It’s all so confusing,” so says a friend of mine and quite often. He’s a scientist, now retired, so he should know. And he’s referring to life. When I echo his sentiments, “It’s all so confusing,” he… Читать далее: Telegraph Restaurant Zelenogradsk Wired for Quality
Bussing it around the Kaliningrad region 31 July 2024 ~ See Kaliningrad Region by Coach What is it about coach-based tours that have long been unappealing to me? And, if I faithfully eschewed them in the UK, why would I volunteer to go on one, here, in Kaliningrad? Well, I certainly had the means, the… Читать далее: See Kaliningrad Region by Coach
Updated: 15 April 2021 / Published: 14 August 2020 ~ Down a Zelenogradsk Backstreet with an Englishman
If, like me, you love social history and the historical insight that different architectural features and the time-honoured states of buildings offer, then wherever you are in this region, in Kaliningrad itself, the small outlying towns or, as we were recently, walking around the backstreets of Zelenogradsk, one of this region’s coastal resorts, you will not be disappointed. Every street is an eclectic cornucopia of surprises. At first sight, there is, as they say, no rhyme or reason in it; it is what it is ~ a haphazard delight of old, new and second-hand ~ but memory lane has its own rhythmic structure and with each successive step you take any suspicion of discord soon converts to nostalgic rhapsody.
Idyllic Cranz cottage, Zelenogradsk 2020
Take one of the streets that we walked today. In no specific order, we were presented with old German two-storey apartment blocks, which once would have been quite lowly dwellings, interspersed with little German cottages, juxtaposed with Soviet concrete flats, contradicted by grandiose houses ~ modern Russian villas built in a fantasy Königsberg style, some boasting an impressive intricacy of irregular shapes and forms complete with fantailed turrets.
In contrast with the brand-spanking newness of the late-comers, almost all of the older buildings exhibit multiple signs of age-related wear bolstered by years of neglect, together with ‘they should never have done it themselves’ extensions, inadvisable infills and hasty slapdash repairs, all executed with expediency and cheapness aforethought, using whatever materials came to hand and by people who, by the looks of it, had no basic DIY skills, much less respect and even less sensitivity for stylistic integrity and continuity of any kind.
Paintwork upon paintwork overlaid and showing through; cement rendering failing and falling exposing the original bricks beneath; the weathered and blistered doors knocked-on, opened, shut and left unpainted for many a year; here a piece of bas-relief, there a small rusting plaque; the wooden lean-to crying out for paint; the ubiquitous asbestos roof shoved up there by make-do Soviet labourers; the myriad examples of patchwork and bodging ~ all of which put me in mind of a Victor Ryabinin ‘assemblage’, in which each piece of the uneven jigsaw owns its own significance but together are transformed into a higher understanding of the mysterious way Time has of moulding, reshaping and reforming structures, perception and our lives.
The combination of natural ageing and neglect in these properties are to the ardent history buff and nostalgia junkie alike what stratigraphy is to the professional archaeologist, each strata determining, by its recognised specificity, an indelible link to a certain period or time identifiable by the tastes, the fashions and fads by which it was defined. And each repair and ‘improvement’, however clumsily executed, from an add-on Soviet bunker in drab grey brick or degrading bullying concrete to lashed-up electric cabling that should never have been allowed, are part and parcel of these house’s history, a separate and distinct page or possibly complete chapter in the life of what was and is ~ at least for now.
As strange as it may seem, the streets that these houses are on do not suffer from any sense of disjoint or jumble. They exhibit true, aged-in-the-wood, natural time-honoured diversity, not the falsely sold, theme-park variety or anything forced through agendas. They exist within and as part of the changing seasons of time and require nothing from you, no cosmetic apology not even your appreciation if you would rather withhold it.
As natural as the phenomenon of nature itself, the two join hands and what could be intrusive in any other context becomes a comforting, comfortable soulmate.
Vegetation leans out through fences, both tumble-down and modern, to gossip with grass verge and luxurious-planted flower beds; the trees and bushes crane over these fences to listen in; some of these trees have not had a haircut since coronavirus began and long before a conspiracy theorist invented it. Almost joining aloft in some places, and thereby creating a green and some might say unkempt vista, the verdure tests the beholder’s eye. For me, however, this is where the inherent beauty lies. But as each of us makes our own reality, who am I to say?
Olga remarked that most people would not understand why we adored the ‘mankyness’ of it all. She was referring to the houses as much as, if not more than, to the overgrown gardens, rough garden tracks, hastily erected grey-brick soviet sheds, toppled fencing, unmanaged back yards, wild foliage and everything so natural and so unmolested that it reminded me of the England of my youth, when England really was England; a time when people still lived in small modest cottages with old tin extensions bolted on the side, when gardens were ramshackle with home-made sheds and there was a healthy preponderance of honest to goodness dereliction, land overgrown across rubble, and even deserted houses and barns, barns that were real barns not supercilious conversions ~ the England I knew as a boy, that ‘green and pleasant land’ before every piece of land was gobbled up for investment, every garden gentrified, every humble house knobbed up and every barn des resd, until, by stealth, inevitably and far too quickly, reality gave up the ghost and died, its corpse was carried out and pretentiousness moved in.
Loud scream across the empty void of time!
One architectural style typical in this part of the world which never fails to enthral me is exhibited in those houses/flats which are shaped like a letter ‘E’ turned on its side with the middle arm missing [photo 1].
1: A typical Zelenogradsk (Cranz) dwelling
The main structure of the house ~ the ‘E’ stem ~ runs parallel to the street. The two end arms are constructed usually of rendered brick, but the upper-storey sections are, in contrast, constructed of wood panelling with glazed units that run the length and depth of the three sides, usually covering three-quarters of the front [photo 2.1].
2.1: Plenty of history, little conformity2.2: Zelenogradsk (Cranz) house showing the design of the wooden compartment on the second floor
Now, I think we can bet our socks that there is a many an erudite work out there ~ book, pamphlet, treatise, internet article ~ on the historical origins of this style and its architectural nomenclature, but for the time being let us just dwell a moment on the Romanticist, fairy-tale element inherent in this feature. Take a look at the photograph that I have provided [photo 2.2]. The carved, pierced and moulded decoration, sometimes referred to as gingerbread trim, is as fanciful as it is quaint, taken together with the contrasting masonry and wooden structure it transforms what would otherwise be a quite plain Jane into something as nice as a Victorian petticoat. The real belt and braces of this property is, as I have already nominated, not the bits that do fit but the pieces that surprise and do not, such as the Soviet asbestos roof and the pleasing modernisation of the entrance and porch, which has no claim aesthetically on the aged wooden compartment above it or for that matter vice versa [photo 2.3].
2.3: Old sits easily on top of new in this example of Zelenogradsk housing
The next house to attract our attention on this same street had a tall tapering end section. It was not a tower exactly, but its tall perpendicular structure fulfilled the same cosmetic purpose [photos 3.1 & 3.2]. Note the broad arched window in the centre of two peaked-gothic windows, now filled in, and also, peeping through the overgrown bush at its base, a larger arched window with what could conceivably be the original German frames. The green paint peeling from the walls of this ground floor section also has some antiquity [photo 3.3].
3.1: Gothic & Art Nouvea features rub along nicely in this original -feature-rich home
3.2: Note the two pointed Gothic arch windows on the top storey, now bricked up3.3: Yet another original feature: large arched ground-floor window
Photograph 4.1 reveals an interesting stylised diamond carving above the front door that flows into the decorative stonework atop of the door frame in Art Nouveau fashion. Photograph 4.2 gives a closer view, with my wife having received permission from one of the house’s occupants to take a peep inside.
4.1: Stonework decoration above the front door4.2: Stonework decoration melding with the stylised door surround ~ no, I am not referring to my wife!
Photograph 4.3 shows a door of some age and quality. Note the carving to the glazing frames and the chevron effect to the base panels. The black and white diamond floor is typical of, and quite a universal feature in, European and British homes dating from the late 19th century through to the 1940s. I suspect, however, that the municipal look inside the corridor, the bog standard (pun intended) two layers of paint, in this case green and white, sometimes blue and white (in old British toilets black and white) are in this case a Soviet makeover. However, photograph 4.4 depicts a handsome wooden staircase complete with a nice line in stepped skirting board, an impressive turned base rail and matching turn-stop, glimpsed on the corner of the first landing. I think we can safely assume that the lovely painting at the top of the first flight of stairs, with dogs scampering through a meadow and a girl gathering flowers, is a work of art of not–too-distant origin. A closer view is available in photograph 4.5. The cat on the windowsill is real! He told me so.
4.3: A door to be proud of4.4: A fine old staircase4.5: This carefree painting would complement any nursery . The sleeping cat makes an excellent prop!
Thank you to the person who allowed us access to this wonderful old building!
5: A real character!
It was the intrusive electric cabling that drew our attention to the next abode, which, together with the many other discordant add-ons and workmanlike ‘improvements’, epitomises the changing times and fortunes which these houses and the people who lived in them experienced. The carelessly non-matching extensions at either end of this particular house [photo 5] have an architecturally masochistic appeal for me. I particularly like the blue and white brickwork on the left which gives way to a dark blue metal superstructure, as if Tim Martin of Wetherspoon’s fame has asked his designers to create a distressed effect, but which I am almost certain, without being absolutely sure, is the consequence of demand supplied in the absence of viable alternatives. The roof, by the way, is once again ubiquitous postwar asbestos. The washing lines, strung between the two extensions, have that real-world feel to them, the one I knew as a child, and thank heavens for the roadside foliage and unpretentious tree.
6: The accumulative effect of time
The little dwelling in photograph 6 might, for some people, be nothing more than a cursory example of Roger the Baltic Bodger inimitably at it again, but I like it. The layers of history added are there to be peeled back. Young faces have no story to tell, because they are waiting for life to write its narrative on them, whereas old faces are many stories combined; they tell of the difficult journey from cradle to grave and wear upon them every knock and scar that ever befell their owners.
7.1: On the same street but a different level
Hobnobbing from an inverted snobbery perspective is this NeoGothic scintillation [photo 7.1]. It stands without detriment or, in my mind, exclusivity to its older residents, as, like them, it, too, is no less a descendant of this region’s ancestral heritage, and whilst it may be young and brash (or it may be a bold restoration?), the fact that it respects its elders and knows its place in the history of this land is obvious from the deference that it shows to architectural concepts steeped in Germanic origin.
I am a tower and turret man myself, so need I say more. Although I must, since I cannot pass without showing my respect to the magnificent Gothic finial adorning the turret on this property, the mermaid bas relief on the street-facing wall and the stepped crenellation crowning the ground-floor windows. The effect is impressive-conservative with just enough and not too much to render it late-Russian capitalist.
Whether it is offended in having no option but to reside in the same street as the structure in photograph 8 is debatable, but the fact that it does is undeniably wonderful, in an eccentric kind of way.
8: From the West with love …
This grey-brick shed built by someone I know from Peterborough, who must have slipped into the Kaliningrad region during Soviet times to demonstrate the not-so-noble art of bodge building as counter-intuitive to the bourgeoise dream, has fallen further from grace but made no less interesting by a good dose of ‘urban artwork’. You will observe, I am sure, the give-away clue from which part of the world this nasty urban trend derives. I leave it to yourself and to your conscience to decide whether this deserves the name of street art or is simply a piece of vandalism daubed on a wall by a simpleton. Street art or street arse, you decide?
There were other interesting houses and other houses with interesting and eccentric features on this street, but I will close this post with a view of and on this building [photo 9] which, standing as it does dead centre at the end of the street, the road curving round to the right, said two words to me (and those as well!), ‘block house’.
9: It’s all happening in this picture …
It is a big solid structure with no frills and fripperies; another one of those buildings not unusual in this region that have been knocked around so much that it is difficult to say where exactly they come from and if they will ever be accepted ~ the architectural equivalent to a boat load of third-worlders lacking documentation.
Look at the windows ~ no, not in the boat ~ in the house. It is definitely a case of all shapes, sizes and co. Wood and plastic coexist here simply because they have no choice, a bit like British diversity. Any planning that may have led to this result has been cunningly concealed, and you must ask yourself whether living in it you would be living in harmony or would want to live elsewhere? The exterior has been clad. It is a cover-up, and the confusion of metal flues sit rather awkwardly with the traditional, conservative, red- brick chimney. Nevertheless, as an interesting experiment it is an interesting experiment, although I would strongly advise against the open-door policy as we all know, only too well, to what disaster that can lead!
This review has drawn for its inspiration from one street out of the many historically evocative examples with which Kaliningrad and its regional towns are invested. Stepping back in time has never been simpler and more compelling, so if you do get the chance to follow in my footsteps do not let the moment pass you by.
Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 394 [12 April 2021] And what has all this got to do with coronavirus and self-isolation?
Published: 12 April 2021 ~ Spring Brings People Out in Kaliningrad
With the temperature shooting up to a ‘very nice spring day’ 18 degrees, my wife, Olga, had no difficulty persuading me to walk to the central market with her, even though I had consumed four or five refreshing pints of vaccine the previous evening.
As we left the house for the cobbled streets of Königsberg, the birds were singing and, if the neighbours two houses away would only fit their dog with a silencer, we would possibly have heard them.
After a long, hard winter it was delicious to be able to walk down the quiet backstreets, stopping now and again to have a good old gawp, which you do as you get older, at the splendid German houses that line this particular route.
The last time I did something like this in the UK, an elderly lady appeared on the doorstep of her house and asked if we were ‘casing the joint’. My brother replied that we were admiring the architecture, that we only robbed places at night and was she at home this evening?
No such awkward questions were fired at us today, and all we had to contend with was blue snowdrops, lots of them, inside and outside of gardens looking extremely pretty.
Spring brings people out in Kaliningrad
Our route to the city market took us along the lakeside (pond side, if you are a Königsbergian purist). The sun, warmth and dry weather had brought the good citizens of Kaliningrad out in droves, and Olga, who is a staunch anti-mask wearer, was happy to observe that the majority of the populace had exchanged their ‘muzzles’ for happy smiles and the priceless humanity of unfettered facial expression.
Youth Park ~ the city’s amusement park ~ was in full swing, and the children’s play area on the bank of the lake was packed to the gills with happy cavorting children, the skateboarding and roller-blading enclosure was by no means idle and in the nearby exercise arena a man was obviously so grateful not to be in lockdown that it was all he could do not to stand on his head.
It’s good to be outside!!
Just as I had hoped, the good weather had also brought out the traders and selling public at the city’s flea market, a junk addicts paradise, which should it exist in boot fair-obsessed Britain, that is before the Covid curfews and restrictions, it would be absolutely mobbed.
Serviced by a parking lane that backs onto a stretch of pavement located just before the pedestrianised avenue that leads to the market proper, the pitches, stalls and blankets of this collectors’ cornucopia fan out across the hills and hollows beneath the trees of a long, broad bank, an erstwhile rampart that follows the line of the moat opposite one of Königsberg’s distinctive red-brick forts. This bank can be a muddy Somme when it rains but was thankfully dry today.
I stopped for a while to lust over the dug-up medals and badges that had once ennobled the members of Hitler’s Third Reich, but before I could commit myself to spending more cash than I should, Olga had steered me off, away from the trader community into the general public bargain zone, and before long was trying on a jacket suspended from a tree, urged on by a stout babushka keen to make a sale, whose many other clothing wares were spread across the ground on top of several covers.
The coat was either too small or too big, so this turned out to be a no-sale, but by the time we had traversed the length of the bank, running the gauntlet of the numerous sellers, where once we had no bags we now were carrying four.
Within these bags nestled two interesting bottles, both harking back to the days when this city was Königsberg: one bearing the city’s original name and the other purchased because of its unusual triangular shape and Bakelite top. As with many bottles produced at the turn of the twentieth century and, indeed, throughout the years leading to World War II, both of these bottles were attractively embossed with script, typically identifying either the contents, manufacturer and location of the business and very often all three.
Mick Hart with bottle ~ unusual in that it does not contain beer
As a former dealer in items of antiquity, my interest in these humble retail and household products had diminished over the years, simply because in the course of my work I handled so many of them, but my passion for these relics of social history had recently been rekindled when, emerging from a tour of Königsberg Cathedral, our host and friend Vladimir Chilikin introduced us to a purveyor of vintage bottles who was selling his wares on the bridge nearby. Life without junk is at least three things: impossible, unlivable and uncluttered. So, my wife, sympathetic to and an accomplice in my addiction, decided that she would treat me to a Königsberg souvenir, and now you can no longer say that I haven’t got the bottle.
On the subject of old and interesting, we had left home this morning not purely to stretch our legs but to collect a piece of vintage embroidery that someone was framing for us. Unfortunately, the framing shop was closed, but no matter, this simply meant that we would not have so much to carry as we made our way to Flame, our pre-Covid watering hole, situated in front of the lake.
Although the thought of a lunchtime aperitif, a liquid one, did cross my mind ~ junk and beer go so well together ~ I exercised restraint. One should be wise at my age (cough), and besides, when we returned home, I had the final pages of a dissertation to edit.
Spring brings people out in Kaliningrad
We had gone to Flame expecting to find that the outside seating had been reinstated, but it was obviously deemed too early in the year for this, so if we wanted to eat outside we would have to find a bench. We could have eaten inside, but distancing and the heartbreaking avoidance of restaurants and bars continues to be our enduring concession to coronavirus caution.
We found some unoccupied seating on the circular paved area that fronts the newly opened swimming pool and sauna, which is anchored off the side of the lake. It is a curious affair: a T-shaped, lightweight structure fitted with a central dome consisting of stretched fabric or vinyl over triangulated sections of tubular steel.
As Flame was as busy as it had been in the pre-coro era, our takeaway lunch would take 20 to 30 minutes to arrive, which was no hardship. Whilst waiting, we had two cups of excellent coffee and just chilled out, or should that be in today’s favourable temperatures warmed up?
Mick Hart & Olga Hart, Kaliningrad April 2021
The easy-listening jazz wafting from Flame’s external hi-fi speakers, complemented the meditative mood. Whenever I hear it, I am filled with wonder. Who is it who plugs Flame into the 1970s? I half expect Jim Rockford of 1970s’ Rockford Files fame to come strolling round the corner. Hi Jim!
It was a beautiful atmosphere on the lake front today. The droves had almost turned into a crowd, and everyone walked, talked and behaved as people do when spring first arrives. You can sense it ~ that one long collective sigh of relief: winter is rolling over at last.
We stayed put on our hospitable bench for a good forty minutes. Opposite, three girls were sketching and painting. Whenever I see people painting or drawing in Königsberg, I cannot help but see and feel the presence of Victor Ryabinin.
On walking back homeward we stopped in an area where the lakeside path expands to look and listen for a while to a couple of young musicians playing saxophones. The music they were playing captured and inspired the harmonics of the occasion in this favourite location of ours, on this soft, tranquil, kind and contemplative day.
This series of posts is devoted to identifying, tracking and reporting on instances of politically correct oppression in the UK, which have become so prevalent and stultifying in recent years that they have morphed into an erosive sub-culture, ironically characterised by self-righteous victimhood and a postured drive for equality. This is the culture of ‘Woke’.
Stymieing free speech and closing down discussion, liberal elements exploit the false altruism implanted in this credo for the prosecution and inverted moral enforcement of a neo-Marxist creed.
Assisted not a little by an ideological media sympathetic to their agenda, the hyper-reaction and sheer volume of publicity devoted to issues of race, gender and other liberal hobby horses has discredited the perpetrators and exposed their agenda. It has also caught them in a trap of their own making, the term ‘Woke’ ~ their term ~ presented originally as a victim’s cry for social and racial justice now widely used to identify over-zealous practitioners and self-proclaimed arbitrators of ‘correct thought’ as defined by neoliberal PC elites.
There is a limit to which even the most tolerant people of the most tolerant country (reference Sewell report) can remain tolerant to daily intolerance and at last legacy Britons appear to have reached that point:
Stay aWoke to the Wokes folks!
If, in a wild and distorted dream or a state of unpardonable and gross inebriation you have even vaguely considered that the ‘liberal way’ could be progressively good for your country ~ or, for that matter, remotely good ~ let these posts serve as a moral reminder: Be careful what you wish for!
In my introductory post to this series, Woke Watch PC UK, I referred briefly to that recent sorry state of affairs at Pimlico Academy London, where children, jumping on the protest bandwagon, were allowed and encouraged to lambast their headteacher and dictate school policy.
The Pimlico Academy circus and the liberal media’s reaction to the Sewell report on racial disparity are perfect examples of the fostered permeation of a woke cult within the UK and the extent to which this virus is cultivated and used as a mind-altering, psychological weapon in our schools. From the government’s reluctance (some have referred to it as ‘moral cowardice’) to institute robust measures to combat the virulence, hope for an effective vaccine grows less and less credible as each day passes. Unchallenged, systemic wokeness is a source of global embarrassment to the UK in the disproportionate media and political space it occupies to the detriment of real issues, such as unsafe streets and spiralling crime, but is at the very least redeemable in its entertainment value.
My attention was first drawn to this farcical piece of nonsense, re Pimlico Academy, when I stumbled upon a report in that most august of intellectual online dispensaries, the Mirror.
Headlined, “Pimlico Academy: Angry pupils stage mass walk-out at school’s ‘racist’ uniform policy”, with the standfirst, “Students and staff are furious over a strict new uniform policy at Pimlico Academy in Westminster, central London, and changes to the secondary school’s history curriculum”, the article immediately set the sirens wailing: ‘Woke! Woke! Woke!’.
From the safety of my anti-PC bunker, not having been enriched for some time now, I read on, hardly able to contain my amusement. According to the report, some angry children were having a tantrum in the school playground (for those of you who are not from the UK, an ‘academy’ is a posh-sounding name for a school; a tantrum is a ‘peaceful demonstration’). ‘We want change’, they shouted. I could hear an echo bouncing back at them from somewhere in Britain’s glorious past, “Don’t we all!” it was saying.
The change that they wanted was not for the drinks machine. They were ~ shall we use a ‘peaceful demonstration’ word? ~ ‘outraged’.
Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!
It may defy belief if you come from a non-PC-crazed background, but in the wonky land of Woke, anybody and anything can be denounced as racist at any time, and somebody with a lot more time on their hands than most of us, but not a great deal of intelligence, had denounced Pimlico’s school uniform as racist. The school uniform was wacist (that’s a cross between woke and racist) because it discriminated against hijabs and hairstyles. The school pupils were also incensed that the school curriculum was not paying enough attention to the antics of Black Lives Matter and were demanding that more time be devoted to Black History Month, like, er, Black History Two Months or preferably 13 months of the year. Durrgh…
The Mirror published extracts from the children’s online post, which, incorporating such terms as ‘protect marginalised races [and] religions’, ‘discriminating against’ and ‘challenging identity’, shows that if they learn nothing else in today’s progressive liberal schools, children are at least well versed in the parrot language of Woke.
Some went on to excel themselves by taking up the cudgel for the gender disadvantaged. And you have to hand it to them, they had really done their homework on the PC prose of choice:
“We believe the idea of gendered uniform for all students is a ridiculous, backwards ideal. This ostracises non-binary and gender non-conforming students, or those who are struggling with their gender identity.”
I really, really do wish that I had been armed with this load of old cod’s wallop when I was at school. In those days, if you did not present in the full and prescribed uniform by the time you had chanted ‘we want change’, you could be guaranteed to have got it, initiated by a swift, stout kick up the arse. The change being a bruise where you did not have one before.
Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!
Whilst some of Pimlico’s school children were writing online statements, others, true to form, were defacing the school walls with graffiti. Some future university student daubed:
“Headmaster Smith should get the sack.”
And why on earth shouldn’t he, with a name like that!
The Mirror goes on to report that, “the Guardian reported that the school was facing mass staff resignations, a student protest and a vote of no confidence in its headteacher.”
It almost sounds like ‘Hooray’?
Mr Smith is a white headmaster and therefore it goes without saying that he should either resign or apologise, or preferably both! ~ be sent to Devil’s Island, somewhere in the Caribbean or Lambeth, and never again be permitted to hold office.
Apparently, the academy’s staff is in such a PC tizz about it all that many of the poor darlings are thinking of quitting their job.
Helpful school caretaker: “Allow me, I’ll open the door for you!”
And it is reported that the entire geography department handed in their notice, presumably because they failed to identify that the country where they live and work is Britain. Mind you, it is not that easy to tell these days, is it, not even for a geography teacher?
Now, I am not sure whether you will appreciate the woke irony inherent in this next quote from the Mirror, but take your time (clue, think of BLM and statues and political allegiances).
“Former Pimlico Academy pupil Liza Begum, Labour’s candidate for the upcoming Churchill ward councillor by-election, visited the protest.”
Well, she would, wouldn’t she!
According to the Mirror, she was proud of the students, adding, ‘it [the protest] was a peaceful event’.
As all such demonstrations, especially BLM demonstrations, are ~ children …
One mother complained that the pupils are not listened to and feel ‘frustrated and disempowered’ (Congratulations, now you know what most teachers feel every day of their lives.) And wanted to know what this would do for them [the kids] when they left school? The answer being, a great deal of good, I suppose, because in the real world, the world outside of school, getting your own way by staging a tantrum, even if the liberal media patronises it as ‘peaceful’, is not something that Bet Fred is likely to give you very good odds on.
Now, I have intentionally left the best for last, which is that after ticking all the essentials on the woke checklist, as ticked by the children at Pimlico Academy, having been primed to do so by their liberal masters …
Racism
Discrimination
Gender issues
Identity
Challenged self-esteem
White man headmaster
… the ultimate demand from the Pimlico children was that the school remove the Union Jack. And, yes, you have got it in one, of course the school capitulated.
“And nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all The needle returns to the start of the song And we all sing along like before … “
The least you would expect is that the entire history department of Pimlico Academy would hand in their resignation, hop into the nearest TARDIS, shoot off back in time and warn Great Britain of what will become of it in the 21st century unless it takes a firmer grip. What a mess!
The ethnic composition of the child protestors which led to the peremptory and pitiful removal of the nation’s flag is not immediately apparent. A closer look at the photos and videos that covered the playground huff would be interesting from a sociological viewpoint if nothing else, as it would help to ascertain the ratio of children indoctrinated by liberal left mantras in relation to those exploiting them to further an agenda.
Incidentally, did you ever see that wonderful old black and white (cough) film Passport to Pimlico? It was all very different then, wasn’t it, although the title of that film could well have been a presentiment. All the same, should a remake be made today, the film would have to retain its original title since Pimlico is land-locked, so something along the lines of Small Boat to Pimlico would hardly be believable ~ but then again, what is?
Woke Attack in Pimlico UK!
At the end of a wrong day, whether your verdict is woke tsunami or merely a storm in a piss pot, that the Pimlico spat was set against the backdrop of the frenzied reception to the Sewell report on racial disparity speaks volumes about the wider malaise in the land of the Woke and Wonderless.
This ‘landmark adjudication’, the Sewell report, is, of course, covered extensively by the liberal press. The Guardian, for example, asks in one of their earlier articles, before the tone becomes predictably rabid, ‘Did the government’s response to the Black Lives Matter protests measure up? A panel of writers responds’. And the answer, from the liberal perspective is, as we know, of course it didn’t. Whilst some people could be forgiven for equating inadequate response with lack of robust policing, I am not saying anything about this article. Find it, read the names of the contributors, see their panels and photographs, read what they have to say and judge for yourselves.
I cannot quite make up my mind, from a purely woke position, whether the liberal faction so seemingly incensed by the Sewell report’s conclusion that the UK is one of the most racially tolerant countries in the world, would have been infinitely more disappointed had the report returned what they presumed it must do following what they conceived to be an intimidation victory by the BLM riots, namely that the UK is racist to its core and that penance by those responsible can never be paid in full, as there is not enough guilt in Woke land for reparation to replace agenda.
Such Woke expressions of virtue-signalled anger are surely just for the record ~ the broken record. Without doubt, the Sewell report has handed to those who have nothing better to do than to delude themselves into believing that making banners and running amok in the streets will change anything, a golden opportunity: summer is on the way, time to get those hoodies on and crank up the ‘peaceful protesting’! And if it all gets sordid and nasty, then not only is there the old excuse to fall back on, that the police response was ‘neither appropriate nor proportionate’ (from the rehearsed script of Mr Mayor Khan) there is the Sewell report as well. “Ooooh, it made me so angry! I just had to make a banner and go and deface a statue. Er, how do you spell ‘discriminate’?”
Woke me up when it’s all over, yawn …
Here are some later headlines from the balanced liberal press on the Sewell report:
The Sewell report on racial disparity is an attempt to erase progress and sow division [Guardian]
Comment: This assumes that the path to progress must be defined as a never-ending cycle of recrimination, apology and appeasement
The poisonously patronising Sewell report is historically illiterate [Guardian]
Comment: Tantrum time
Race report: Was controversy part of the plan? [BBC]
Comment: You should know. It’s what you do best … but not so well as you did, or everyone would still be paying their license fee
Let’s hope that these headlines were not run after the watershed viewing time for children ~ there’s bound to be tears before bedtime ..
