Архив рубрики: DAILY LIFE in KALININGRAD

Daily Life in Kaliningrad

Daily Life in Kaliningrad is a category of my blog expatkaliningrad.com. It is, as the title suggests, devoted to observations, thoughts and opinions of what it is like to live in Kaliningrad, and it is written from the point of view of an expat Englishman. Unlike my diary category, Kaliningrad: Mick Hart’s Diary, the posts featured in this category are not necessarily linked to any specific timeline or date but are topic or theme oriented. For example, at the time of writing this brief description the category DAILY LIFE IN KALININGRAD contains the following posts:

A Day at the Dentists
One of the first reactions I received when I divulged to friends and colleagues my intention to move to Russia, apart from perhaps the obvious one, was what is the health service like? A not unusual preoccupation, especially with older people, because, let’s face it, as we grow older we fall to bits. I wrote this article about a trip to a Russian dentist’s partly in response to this question and partly because the experience surprised me. Well, we all have our prejudices; take real-ale drinkers and Watney’s.

International Women’s Day Kaliningrad
Now you would not think that an old and proud chauvinist like me would want to go on record as saying that I enjoy something as seemingly PC and ism-oriented as International Women’s Day, but in these days of tats, butch, Its, Others and Old Uncle Tom Cobbley, Russia’s nationwide display of affection and sentimentality traditionally symbolised by the giving of flowers to the fairer sex pulls wonderfully at one’s conservative heartstrings. Whether flower power and a kind heart were influential enough to pull at my wallet strings with regards to treating my better half to flowers is revealed in this article.

Self-isolating in Kaliningrad
Rather self-explanatory don’t you think? This, I believe, was my first article as the world entered the coronavirus maelstrom, since when expressions like ‘self-isolating’, ‘social distancing’, ‘lockdown’, ‘masks’, ‘vaccines’, ‘New Normal’ and so on have become the defining lexicon of the 21^st century. I want my money back! When I was young, and I was once, I subscribed to a Sci-Fi magazine called TV 21. It was, as the title suggests, a preview of what it would be like to live in the 21^st century. It was all about cities on stilts, suspended monorails, hover cars, people with metallic-looking hair and all-in-one shimmering silver jumpsuits. I, as with my entire generation, have been had! There was nothing in this magazine’s Brave New World prediction of open borders, social engineered societies, political correctness, sect appeasement, streets too violent to walk down, globalisation and global warming, anti-patriotism, revisionist history, stage-managed free speech or coronavirus. We were had! And, as we continue to self-isolate, there are those out there who believe that we are still being had. But I prefer to self-isolate …

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Daily Life in Kaliningrad

I am aware that Daily Life in Kaliningrad is not exactly overpopulated with articles. You can blame this on coronavirus ~ I do. Since making its debut, I, like almost everyone else who writes things, has had their focus ~ nay their lives ~ shanghaied by the why’s, what’s and therefores of this life- and lifestyle-changing phenomenon. This, let us hope it is only a, detour, is reflected in the disproportional number of posts that appear in my Kaliningrad: Mick Hart’s Diary category (sub-categories Diary 2000 & Diary 2019/2020) and my exposition category, Meanwhile in the UK, which is devoted to events in my home country, England, oh and sometimes the other bits: analysis, comment and exposés on UK media content together with cultural, historical and nostalgic subjects which appeal to my idiosyncrasies or are taken from the barely legible pages of my old and initially handwritten diaries.

We live in peculiar and interesting times, and as I consider myself to be first and foremost a diarist, it is as impossible not to be waylaid by events as they unfold as it is not to time travel. When you take the two together and place it within the context of somebody’s life, in this case mine, the impetus to write expatkaliningrad.com is not difficult to understand.

Lidskae Aksamitnae Beer in Kaliningrad

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

Published: 20 August 2020 ~ Lidskae Aksamitnae Beer in Kaliningrad

Article 6: Lidskae Aksamitnae

I am most concerned about what is happening in Belarussia (I mean, Belarus) at the moment, not least because I have just discovered Lidskae Aksamitnae, a dark, rich, full-bodied beer with a deeply refreshing flavour.

**Lidskae Aksamitnae Beer in Kaliningrad**

Prejudiced against dark beers, with a proud aversion to the twangy-harp taste of Guinness and generally unseated by the intensified sweetness that seems to be the signature of dark, strong, British ales, I hesitated both in the purchase of Lidskae and, once that threshold had been crossed, the subsequent quaffing of it.

Removing the lid from my 1.5 litre bottle, I sniffed at it gingerly. It did not have a strong treacly smell and, I am glad to say, there were no twangy notes of a suspect brogue nature. What was this aroma that was hurtling up my hooter? Chocolate? Toasty? Someone’s nuts roasting? Whatever it was, I liked it.

Out of the bottle and into my glass it was as black as Brickstun (the name of my neighbour’s cat). But, within seconds of pouring it, an effervescence occurred that brought to the surface a white head, which stood out in stark contrast to the mass from whence it had come. I eyed it with the cautious way one would before entering Taste Alley. Dark beers had always been no-go areas for me, and I knew I was taking a risk. I recalled a stormy night in Portland. I had drunk black beer there and had felt bad for about 80 days.

I took my first sip. What was the verdict? Guilty!! It had only been a thought, but I was clearly inciting beery hatred. Contrary to my expectations, this brew had a rich, malty taste. It was not a riot, not even demonstrative on one’s taste buds. It did not try to sell you something you would rather not have, nor did it mug you. I felt that feeling one must get in taking one’s case to the European Court of Beery Rights and having it ruled in my flavour. I was not just relieved but rewarded ~ disproportionately compensated, for so I secretly thought, by a richness I did not deserve ~ well not for £1.40, which is what the beer had cost.

Lidskae Aksamitnae Beer Belarus — **Belarus beer at its best!** **Lidskae Aksamitnae**

Lidskae Aksamitnae Beer in Kaliningrad

Like most things of value, Lidskae Aksamitnae’s pedigree is firmly rooted in history and in heritage.

As the date on the label testifies, the Lida Beer Brewery began life in 1876. It is one of the oldest breweries in Belarus, the brainchild of Nosel Pupko, and it remained within his family for three generations.

By the turn of the 20^th century, Lidskoe beer, as it was then known, was already a winner in Europe, garnering various awards at respected exhibitions. Come the Soviet period, GOST standards meant standard beer; regional beers were restricted to the republic of its origin. But good news travel fast, as they say, and Lida’s reputation for producing tasty, quality brews somehow got out.

Today, with investment, ideas and technological input from companies in Finland and the Czech Republic, Lidskae beer continues to flourish, collecting international awards as high-class products and, more importantly, retaining and making old fans and new (such as me, the drinking Englishman) who certainly have no qualms when it comes to putting money where their mouths are.

They say you live and learn, and if I have learnt one thing and one thing only from buying and drinking this beer, it is BBM ~ Black Beers Matter!

Quality Belarus Beer — **Lidskae Aksamitnae** – **Gone but not forgotten ..**.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Lidskae Aksamitnae
Brewer: Lidskoe Pivo
Where it is brewed: Belarus
Bottle capacity: 1.5 litres
Strength: 4.8%
Price: It cost me about 136 rubles (£1.40) from Spa (so near and also so far!)
Appearance: As black as your hoody
Aroma: Nutty and toasted
Taste: Smooth, rich, malty with a little sweetness and light bitterness
Fizz amplitude: 4/10
Label/Marketing: Proud heritage
Would you buy it again? Too right!

Brewery website> Lidskoe beer – Official site of Lidskoe Pivo company (lidskae.by)

*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.

Zhigulevskoye Beer Kaliningrad Russia

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

Article 5: Zhigulevskoye Beer

As stated in my last beer review, my choice of supermarket-bought bottled beer in Kaliningrad is not influenced in any way by recommendation of any kind, which includes word of mouth. Neither do I purchase beer on the basis of its strength. The only selection criteria that I use is (i) have I drunk it before? (ii) do I like the label? As I know my Russian A Б B, I can sometimes cobble the name of the beer together. Not that it means very much, but as you might guess that was not the case with this particular brand, which when translated into English spells ‘Zhigulevskoye’.

Previous articles in this series:
Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad
Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad
Cedar Wood Beer in Kaliningrad
Gold Mine Beer in Kaliningrad

I was attracted to this particular beer, as opposed to the many others on offer, as the label has a distinctly nostalgic resonance. Look at it: The lower half of the label is the colour of ripe corn, the upper a bright blue sky. In the foreground, stationed on the yellow bed, stands one of those old Soviet roadside tankers, the ones that used to dispense peeva (beer) but which, in later years, were phased out as mobile meeting points with the greater uptake of conventional bars.

When I first came to Kaliningrad in the year 2000, there were still quite a few of these little yellow containers on wheels in evidence, but as the popularity of bars and licensed restaurants increased they were put out to pasture, making a comeback in later years for the dispensation of one of Russia’s most popular drinks, Kvass, an unusual beverage with an acquired taste made from fermented rye bread. Not that this would interest you lushes, as Kvass is alcohol-free.

In this pictorial incarnation, the one on the beer bottle, the little two-wheeled tanker proudly displays the word ‘beer’, peeva, in Cyrillic script. At the dispensing end, a young lady sits, a small shelf in front of her on which can be seen two ‘pint’ glasses. There are trees in the background and peeping through them the red pantiled rooftops and tall rustic chimneys of small cottages. The scene is one of perfect idyll. It captures superbly the Soviet concept of harmonic relationship between people and Mother Earth, and the impression is made complete by one of the USSR’s most simple but potent symbols, the yellow ear of wheat.

The name of the beer (which, as history denotes, is fairly unpronounceable in English) is written at a sloping angle across the front of the label in a deep-blue flowing Cyrillic script and the whole ensemble edified by an award-winning stamp of quality, a circular medallion containing a strong and manly thumbs-up symbol.

When I asked my wife, Olga, what the unpronounceable name of the beer meant in English, she was unable to translate, but, after several attempts to solve the riddle with the help of the internet, it turned out that the name equated to a motor vehicle! So, here I was sitting in my Russian attic drinking a pint of Lada!

As my friend John Hynes would say, and does say, “You couldn’t make it up!” Actually, he would say, and does say, “You couldn’t make this shit up!” but as the expletive can only confer an inapplicable derogation, for the sake of propriety and for accuracy we will dispense with this unfortunate word and focus instead on dispensing the beer.

Intrigued by the vehicle anomaly, Olga took to the internet via her mobile phone and connecting with a Russian site she was soon able to supply me with some interesting background information.

History of Zhigulevskoye Beer Kaliningrad Russia

The story goes that originally Zhigulevskoye was called ‘Viennese Beer’. It first saw life when Austrian aristocrat and businessman Alfred von Vacano established his Zhiguli Brewery in Samara in the early 1880s. The beer proved to be extremely popular but unfortunately for Alfred, come the Russian revolution in 1917, he was not. He ended up in Austria, his brewery confiscated, passed into the hands of the new Russian state.

Thus captured, Alfred’s extremely popular beer fell victim to the communist zeal for outlawing anything and everything that had a suspect bourgeoisie ring to it, and this was reflected in the beer’s name change from something that once could have been very well easy to say to Zhigulevskoye ~ proudly named after a Soviet car.

In Soviet times the brand had the best kind of monopoly that any beer can have ~ it was almost if not exclusive. At the height of its popularity, it was dispensed from 700 breweries and was exported to a number of different countries. Ironically, its international success was hampered by its name, which was not only difficult to pronounce but in some countries resembled words of a vulgar or impolite nature. The crude connotations of similar sounding words did not apply in England, where the beer was exported for a short while but simply did not catch on. How could it when we had Watney’s Pale Ale!!

Following the dissolution of the USSR, former satellite countries continued to brew Zhigulevskoye, most notably Carlsberg and Baltika brewers from their outlets in the Ukraine. Nevertheless, purists, romanticists and nostalgic drinkers stick firmly to their revolutionary guns where Zhigulevskoye is concerned, refusing to acknowledge true Zhigulevskoye unless it is brewed in Samara.

Voice off stage: Get on with it!

So, how did I find my 2020 version of Zhigulevskoye?

For all that I have read and for all that I have said, I am afraid to say that I cannot commit myself to use any other evaluative word other than that of ‘moderate’. The beer has a golden hue, a soft, mellow, traditional lager taste, is light on the palate, with a distant scent of hops, is easy to drink and quite refreshing, but what Alfred von Vacano would make of it, is anybody’s guess.

Call me an old (no, that’s reserved for people who really know me and liberals who think they do), old sentimentalist, but what I could not discern in flavour I derived more, as I supped away at Zhigulevskoye, from the label on the bottle. Even had there been nothing to recommend it, and this is not true, I could never bring myself to trash such an emblem of historic import. I know this lacks impartiality, but then this is why I named this series of posts, Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers in Kaliningrad.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Zhigulevskoye (after 2 x 1.5 litre bottles you can pronounce it)
Brewer: More than one, including Baltika and Carlsberg
Where it is brewed: Lots of places but Samara is its original birth place
Bottle capacity: 1.5 litres
Strength: 4.5% (strength varies depending on brewery)
Price: It cost me about 112 rubles (£1.16)
Appearance: A lovely yellow corn
Aroma: Faint this ‘n’ that
Taste: Light, traditional pale lager taste
Fizz amplitude: 5/10
Label/Marketing: Nostalgists heaven
Would you buy it again? Yes, whenever I am in a Soviet mood

Gold Mine Beer in Kaliningrad

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

Article 4: Gold Mine Beer

Published: 24 July 2020

The bottled beer that I am reviewing today goes by the very enticing name of Gold Mine. As with all beers in this series of reviews, they are widely available throughout Kaliningrad, Russia, from most supermarkets, and, as with all of the beers that I intend to review here, they have been selected on an ad-hoc basis. Why did I choose Gold Mine? Because I liked the name and the label.

Previous articles in this series:
Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad
Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad
Cedar Wood Beer in Kaliningrad

Labelling and product presentation plays a crucial role in leveraging purchasing decisions at every level, but is particularly important when it comes to impulse purchasing an unknown, untried and untested brand of, in this case, beer without recommendation or information to act as a guide.

The seductability value of a bottled beer’s label design is especially important if you are operating on a quick-decision buy-it-now basis. Nowhere is this more true if you are buying a beer that is produced in a country that is not your home country, where you may have no knowledge of, or only an elementary grasp of, the written language of that country. In this case, your purchasing decision will almost certainly be made according to visual appeal. In my case, as my command of the Russian language is limited, as is the time that we have on this Earth, making a purchasing decision from what is written on the bottle would leave me little time to drink it before its sell by date expired. So, for me here in Russia, labelling, as well as beer strength (since even I can read the percentage on the bottle), are the two criteria that I use before parting with my rubles.

Marketing wise, Gold Mine is great. The label has a retro feel to it, which is bound to be attractive to an old vintage and antique dealer like myself who has never moved out of the past. The label, which is unsurprisingly gold coloured, has an American bias. The words Gold Mine Beer (in English) romp brassily across the front of a dark-blue and gold-rimmed shield, reminiscent of a 1960s’ US police officer’s badge. The shield is surmounted by a New York City skyscape, a group of sketched skyscrapers and big city office blocks, one bearing the word ‘Urban’ written sideways and travelling vertically and another, in bold, ‘Light’. The US city design continues as a series of abstract shapes and line-drawn tower blocks that fade in and out of the golden background. The collar label above wears a complementary image, denoting skyscraper and suspension bridge together with the words ‘100% Light Beer’ and ‘fresh’, ‘premium’. What does all this mean? Well, nothing much, but the words are in different weights and scripts and as my Russian wife would say, when she gets her words in a mucking fuddle, it good looks.

We do not buy beer to look at the label, do we? That is about as daft as suggesting that we buy anything with alcohol in it to drink sensibly, because if we wanted to do that we would confine ourselves to mineral water, but, at the risk of repeating myself and sounding vaguely sexist, when it comes to trying something new appearance is everything and a bit more besides.

Leering at it in the supermarket cooler it occurred to me that if the product delivered as much as the labelling, it would be a darn good drink.

So, I bought it. Took it home. Retired with it to my gentleman’s drinking room, Mick’s Place, secreted in the attic, and plumbed the depths.

Gold Mine Beer in Kaliningrad

Verdict: Gold Mine Beer does have a colour that lives up to its name. It is a light, golden, lager beer. I have seen it described as crisp, but I would disagree with that: it has a soft, mellow taste with a standard, traditional lager finish. There is also a faint after taste, but not exciting enough for me to want to write home about it. Having said that, the texture is quite full bodied. It suits my palate in that its carbonation soon gives out, so it does not fizz up one’s nose like a glass of Andrew’s Liver Salts (sorry for mentioning the liver in a beer review).

Would I drink it again?

Yes. A 1.35 litre bottle retails in our local store for about 90 rubles (just over a quid). It is not the bees’ knees of beers but then neither is it the roadman’s wellingtons. It is drinkable and more. Real ale connoisseurs may well have a problem with it, but I suspect seasoned lager drinkers used to finding less ‘gold in them thar pilsners’ than they would like, might reasonably discover when prospecting this brand that it was good enough to bottle it.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Gold Mine Beer
Brewer: World Beers
Where it is brewed: California, USA
Bottle capacity: 1.35 litres
Strength: 4.5%
Price: It cost me about 90 rubles (98 pence)
Appearance: You won’t believe it ~ Gold
Aroma: Corny
Taste: Soft, traditional, light-coloured lager tang with one or two hops struggling to the surface
Fizz amplitude: 6/10
Label/Marketing: As good as, if not better than, gold
Would you buy it again? Yes. But I wouldn’t go looking for it

Cedar Wood Beer in Kaliningrad

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

Article 3: Cedar Wood beer

Published: 20 July 2020

Would you Adam and Eve it, the name of this beer is Wood? Well, to be more precise Cedar Wood. And no, I am sorry to disappoint you, I am not about to make comparisons between the smell and taste of this ‘Russian-brewed’ beer and a cheap, tacky aftershave of the same name that was rife in the UK back in the 1970s, if only because Cedar Wood aftershave did stink strongly of cedar wood (whatever that smells like) and may have tasted like it too, although, contrary to legend, I never did drink it.

Previous articles in this series:
Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad
Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad

I bought this beer not for its strength, which comes in at a not-to-be-sniffed-at 4.8% (not considered to be a strong beer in this part of the world), but on the strength of its label, which at first site is its selling point and some Wood say its last.

The label shows three men, two sitting on top of a log and one standing nearby, which, one would logically (pun intended [or was it!]) conclude, is from the eponymous tree genus, cedar, as it would not make sense if it was something else. The three men are, supposedly, jolly Siberian peasants ~ the bottle states that the beer is brewed in Siberia, although I have since found out that it isn’t. One man has a foaming ‘pint’ in his hand, which must be any other beer but Wood, as although Wood does have a big head on it, it is rather wishy-washy. A second man has his chopper over his shoulder. Yet another boast, I suspect, that Wood cannot live up to. And I am not quite sure what the third man has in his hand or where his hand is. Ahhh, it appears to be in his pocket, possibly holding his wallet intact because he has no intention to pay for such a beer as this. Come to think of it, he does look a bit like my brother …

Cedar Wood Beer in Kaliningrad

That the marketing profile has good, old-fashioned masculine appeal ~ you can almost smell the pheromones ~ cannot be disputed. This beer is aimed at and drunk by hard-grafting manly men ~ none of your skinny-arsed trousers and nerdy spectacles here! Indeed, when I first saw the label I thought, I bet this comes from Canada, but I quickly remembered that the Canada of my youth and earlier ~ the Canada of fur trappers, mountain men, cattle ranchers, lumberjacks and the good old Canadian Mountie ~ was now, like John Wayne, an anachronism, replaced by new man, woke man, limp-wristed and Guardian-reading, the sort that would make Bob Hope look like Tyson Furry.

I suppose this is why when I took my first sip I won’t say that I was disappointed, as this might suggest all kinds of acceptable things by today’s gender-depleted standards, but it certainly was not what I had expected. Unlike the Mountie I thought it was, it never got its man.

In other words, it was not as manly as the label suggested. It did not have to be infused with the sweat of honest toil and reeking of rancid pipe tobacco, and neither, just because it was called ‘Wood’, did I anticipate that it would make me feel 30 years younger at half-past six in the morning, but a little more oomph Wood have been appreciated.

I am in no way attempting to criticise the alcohol strength, 4.8% is good enough for me; no, the missing ingredient was taste.

Here you have a light, golden-looking beer, with a hoppy taste and straw-like aroma. There is a touch of the aromatics about it, which conforms to the cedar name, and this ingredient loiters happily at the back of your throat after the beer has been quaffed. It is a fizz beer, with plenty of carbonation, but as both taste and aroma lacks clout, and is fairly bland, the effervescence compensates for the rest and does propel what vague distinction there is high up into the back of your hooter, which is by no means novel if, like me, you have the distinction of having belonged to the Andrews Liver Salts generation.

With Wood, you need patience, for you have to wait for the taste to come through, but it eventually does in a very eventual way.

In summary, Wood is a light, golden, traditional lager beer. The aroma and taste are hardly as memorable as the vintage aftershave of the same name, but at 4.8% by volume, it is deceptively strong. I purchased my bottle of Wood, 1.35 litres, for about 137 rubles (£1.50) from our local supermarket.

As standard supermarket retailed fare goes, it was not that bad, and the price speaks for itself. Would I buy Wood again? To answer that question, I will borrow that singularly important loaded word from the long-running Carlsberg advertising campaign ‘probably’, if only to enjoy the Pythonesque label!

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.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Cedar Wood
Brewer: Baltika-Samara
Where it is brewed: Everywhere but Siberia
Bottle capacity: 1.35 litres
Strength: 4.8%
Price: I got it for 136 rubles (£1.50)
Appearance: Light, traditional lager beer
Aroma: Still working on it
Taste: A bit of this and that ~ hoppy, slightly bitter, tinge of herbs but no cedar
Fizz amplitude: 7/10
Label/Marketing: Michael Palin and the Lumberjack song
Would you buy it again? Probably

Mick Hart drinking beer in Kaliningrad — **MIck Hart secretly drinking ‘Siberian’ beer in Kaliningrad, where no one suspects that he is English**

Self-isolating in Kaliningrad

Published: 17 March 2020

With no broadcast TV, no social media accounts, no newspapers and trying to ween myself off Google News, I was, as the lyrics say, “Happy in the haze of a drunken hour …”, until, that is, our neighbour asked my wife, in the context of coronavirus, whether I was still frequenting Kaliningrad’s bars. I came down to earth with a jolt.

I have no problem with self-isolating or social distancing, I have always been anti-social, but after all these years, a lifetime in fact, of shunning at-home drinking for the unparalleled joy of the pub or bar, it is more than one can bear.

As far as I am aware, to date we have five cases of coro in Kaliningrad, and about 450 self-isolating, some at home some under observation. Many schools here have switched from attendance-learning to distance-learning. The Polish and Lithuanian borders are closed, except for freight*, and there will be ‘no entry for foreigners from 18 March to 1 May’ . So, apart from a transit corridor through Lithuania, allowing people to return to their homes, which is scheduled to close on 19 March**, this small tract of land will be virtually cut off from the rest of the world.

Whilst there seems to be less people on the streets and on public transport, I have yet to hear of anything akin to the bizarre events unfolding in the UK, namely hordes of people descending on shops like locusts on laxatives to devour the shelves of toilet paper. I can only imagine how these people’s mind’s work. Perhaps they are thinking, he who laughs last laughs longest, and when the dire moments comes (let’s hope it is not the diarrhoea moment!), when the rest of the nation is down to its last piece of tissue, begging and imploring them to sell at any cost a 2-inch square, they will turn the other cheek. What an absolute bummer!

We have two small supermarkets in our locale, which I usually let my wife use, as I would not want to impinge on her leisure time, but, out of curiosity, I accompanied her recently. And when I got there the shelves were not bare (I feel a touch of poetry coming on.).

I have noticed, however, a funny thing. Your reflection in the window, you all cry. Well, that too, but more unprecedented is that whenever I go to these shops (which, as I have said, I don’t do very often because it’s a woman’s job, isn’t it), security always sidle off to form a cordon around the bog-roll shelves. Hmmm, they must know I am from England.

This blockade was unnecessary, however, as my only purchase interest was in medicine, which I was able to snap up, using my 25% discount sticker⁺, for the bargain price of two quid.

Self-isolating in Kaliningrad — **Self-isolating First Aid kit**

Prevention is better than cure, as they say, but just in case I bought some beats as well, as Russian borsch is highly recommended as an effective ‘morning after’ pill.

Sources
Accessed 17 March 2020:

*https://www.dw.com/ru/закрытый-калининград-из-за-коронавируса-российский-эксклав-оказался-в-изоляции/a-52796414
**https://www.newkaliningrad.ru/news/briefs/community/23609508-na-karantine-po-koronavirusu-v-kaliningradskoy-oblasti-nakhoditsya-450-chelovek.html

Note
⁺Some supermarkets in Kaliningrad present you at checkout with a little slip of paper on which are adhered reusable sticky labels. These are discount stickers, each sticker marked with varying percentage discounts. Off you go with your stickers and the next time you visit the shop, you can run round and stick these on the items of your choice, thus cutting the cost of your favourite drinks, I mean products. Promotions don’t usually work on me, but this one does!

International Women’s Day Kaliningrad

6 March 2020 ~ International Women’s Day Kaliningrad

Travelling across Kaliningrad today on our way to the garden centre, we marveled at how the city had swung into action in readiness for International Women’s Day on Sunday.

The city was festooned with flower-selling stalls, ranging from one person with literally a handful of flowers to stalls of two and three tables profusely bedecked with all manner of blooms.

International Women's Day Kaliningrad beautiful tulips — Tulips Rule OK!!

The flower-selling booths, which are there on a permanent basis, were, of course, also in full swing, turning the city into an early spring festival of refreshing and natural bright colours.

To Kaliningradiens, International Women’s Day is an important date in the yearly calendar. It is a celebration of femininity, a time to show appreciation for the love, devotion, work and commitment that women invest in relationships and the value they impart to motherhood and family. I remember last year, even with the sleet and snow, how many men of all ages were out on the streets of Kaliningrad purchasing flowers to present to their wives and girlfriends.

I tried to compare the Kaliningrad experience with International Women’s Day in the UK but, try as I might, I could not recall anything. Perhaps I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time or, then again, perhaps buying flowers for one’s other half is frowned upon in the UK as an unforgivable act of sexism.

Hmmm, well, the last thing that I would want to be accused of was sexism. Perish the thought.

So, I refrained from purchasing my wife flowers this year (makes it sound as if I bought her flowers last year) and instead I bought her a shovel and trowel so that she could plant her own in the garden.

Which just goes to show that leading your wife up the garden path does not have to be a gender war!

More on Daily Life in Kaliningrad

Russia Pays Tribute to its Men
Kaliningrad Leaves Autumn to the Leaf Suckers

Kaliningrad Dentist Russia

A Day at the Dentist

When my wife suggested to me that I should take my tooth that needed to be filled to the Russian dentist, here in Kaliningrad, I thought twice about it.

It was my wife who suggested that I put an end to my griping and take myself and my tooth with a hole in it to one of the dentists here in Kaliningrad. “The [dentist] service here is very good; very professional,” she told me. Well, she would say that, wouldn’t she. She’s Russian.

It was December 2018. We had just arrived in Kaliningrad having moved from England. Being at that age when everything falls to bits [Cohen: “Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey, I ache in the places where I used to play.”], especially teeth, I knew I had to do something and that was either go to a Russian dentist, travel back home to England or take my brother’s advice and use one of his Do It Yourself dental filling kits.

Flying to the pub is good, but flying through the air is not and DIY dental kits conjure up images of something that Del Boy would peddle, so, tempted with the conciliatory carrot that we could go to the local bar afterwards, the Russian dentist it was.

UK dental experiences

Now I am not one for ‘telling tales out of school’ but recently both my and my wife’s experiences of UK dentistry had left much to be desired. I was struck off the patient list by one practice because I did not attend for two appointments, even though I contacted them and explained that I was unwell, and was immediately and suspiciously recommended to their sister practice up the road, which was, quite frankly, awful. In 12 months of registering there I had two fillings: one was so oversized that it felt as if I had a piece of Stonehenge in my mouth, and I breathed a sigh of relief when it fell out six months later, and the other disintegrated three times in a similar period. My wife was registered with Charlie Chan Inscrutable Dentist Man. Alright, admittedly that was not the real name of his practice; it was Charlie Chan Inexcusable Dentist Man. He worked on my wife’s teeth, charged her a bundle and when she was forced to go for a second opinion because the tooth was still giving her pain, she discovered that apart from the anesthetic he had not done anything! To add insult to injury, he had cancelled two appointments in a row, month on month, the only excuse being that he had other patients to see. Yes, we should have reported him, which we threatened to do, but this did not get the tegs seen too, and we all know how difficult it is in overcrowded Britain to find an NHS dentist that is willing to take you on. We did, after a lot of ‘Googling’ and ‘word of mouthing’ locate a dentist 15 miles away. He had a nice old-fashioned English name, ‘Harry’, and seemed to have a severe case of x-ray phobia, as he kept dancing out of the room before he had quite determined how the apparatus went together. You instinctively know things are not quite right when the x-ray plate is lodged behind your ear!

These incidents went a long way in persuading me that the Russian option was worth a try.

Kaliningrad Dentist Russia

There is no shortage of dentists in Kaliningrad and, as it is pay as you go, there is no ‘will you, won’t you’ register me. Our dentist practice of choice came from personal recommendation. It was, and still is, Centrodent. The recommending friend explained that Centrodent was not the cheapest practice in Kaliningrad but, in her opinion, it was the best.

Mick Hart at Russian Dentist — Now, where is that dentist’s clinic?

In recent years, since leaving London, I have been used to small dental practices operating from all sorts of converted houses, so I was surprised to find that not only was the Centrodent clinic purpose-built but very large.

Kaliningrad Dentist Russia — Water feature and Neoclassicism ~ Centrodent dentists, Kaliningrad, Russia

Inside it is spacious, light and airy. The dominant colour is a mellow green, the walls made from a green marble substance containing white ripples (a sort of soothing toothpaste effect). A combination of design embellishments, favouring both Art Deco and Neoclassical elements, work surprisingly well together and form a harmonic partnership with the general modernity.

My first impression was one of tranquility, which was surprising as the place is busy, busy. Patients and white-uniformed staff criss-cross the wide reception area, ascend and descend the curved staircase to the upper quarter, mill around the reception desk, congregate in front of the cloakroom, appear and disappear from the central passage and from the glass-fronted rooms to the left of the planters and water feature. It is all go and yet no stress. It is Waterloo Station on quiescent medication. It works and whoever designed it did well, as he took the dread out of dentistry.

As with many public establishments in Kaliningrad, the cloakroom, with its lady cloakroom attendants, is a nice, civilised and practical touch. This one is open-fronted, built into the main foyer/waiting room, and allows you to divest yourself of your coats so you can worry about your treatment wholeheartedly and without encumbrance.

Swimming caps on shoes

In exchange for your coat you are given a small numbered tag, appropriately made in the form of a tooth. Before you can proceed further, in the interests of feet hygiene, it is mandatory to cover your shoes with a pair of polythene shoe protectors. These ubiquitous items are found in all medical institutions here. I suppose they are a good idea, especially as they make everyone look rather silly. It is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to indulge yourself in pre-dental stress whilst wearing a pair of these. First off it amused me, as in trying to put them on I nearly went arse over head, but once content that no one had seen me, I settled into a game of spot who looks the silliest walking in bright blue plastic elastic.

When it was time to advance to go, I looked down at my bright blue shoes and decided that it was me.

Mick Hart blue shoes Russia — ‘Don’t step on my blue suede shoes!’

My good lady wife led me along a corridor, the doors and arches of which were edged with classical pillars or curved adornments surmounted by pediments. This brief walk brought us into a smaller waiting room of suntan and honey tangerine colours, hollow curves to some of the doorways, beige highlighting and, at one end, a row of blind arches fronted by a small stone-wall garden of tall cacti and succulents. Activity was no less restrained here than it had been in the main entrance hall but, as before, the colour scheme and sense of open space made it less of a waiting room and more of a transit area.

Cacti at Centrodent Kaliningrad — A tooth bush?

I was not kept transiting long, but during my brief stay I did notice that the majority, if not all, of the dentists were female, as was mine. She was dressed in a smart two-piece medical uniform and wearing a surgical mask when she called me into the surgery. I remember thinking to myself, she had very nice eyes: kind and sincere.

Kaliningrad Dentist Russia 🤍

It probably was not advisable of me to tell my wife later that I had fallen in love with my dentist as she promptly told the dentist, thus making me very self-conscious when it came to return appointments, but how could I not be so enamoured: pain-free dentistry, a palpable professionalism, a dental surgery equipped with the most sophisticated appliances and stuff to fill your teeth with claimed to be top of the range, not to mention those kindly eyes and gentle but accomplished hands. What was there not to like? There was even a garden and shrubbery just outside the window.

In short, as dentists go this one was one that you would want to go back to time and time again, though propriety dictates that only your teeth should decide.

I came away smiling. Our recommendee is decidedly recommended. She told us that this was one of the best dentist outfits in Kaliningrad, and she warned us not the cheapest. On this occasion my filling cost me just under £45, but before making comparisons with British NHS prices I should clarify that the service here and the techniques and dental composites used match British private dentistry practices. Cheaper alternatives abound in Kaliningrad but when you consider the cost, 45 quid is nothing really for a tooth that you can be proud of and a dentist to whom you would willingly return time and time again.