Архив рубрики: VISITOR’S GUIDE to KALININGRAD REGION

Angel Park Hotel Kaliningrad Region

A rural recreation centre on the site of an old East Prussian settlement

Published: 23 August 2021 ~ Angel Park Hotel Kaliningrad Region

Our journey took us across country that is conceivably the highest, or the most undulating, in the Kaliningrad region. At one point we thrust ourselves forward in our seats, as if the added motion would assist the locomotion of the 1960s’ Volga car in which we were travelling and help it to climb the hill.

We passed through many small East Prussian hamlets, stopped for a breather in the town of Chernyahovsk (formerly Insterburg) long enough to have our photographs taken in front of the statue of Barclay de Tolly, Commander of the 1st Army of the West, the largest army to face Napoleon.

Mick Hart & Olga Hart Kaliningrad region

A few kilometers outside of Chernyahovsk, the first car in our cavalcade made a sharp left turn and the others followed, including us.

We had left the road and were now driving along a hard surfaced but uneven track. From our rearguard position it was a grand sight to see, this line of classic Soviet vehicles weaving in and out and bobbing up and down in an effort to miss the potholes, the summer dust flying from their wheels.

The approach road to our destination was a long one, but every now and then, as if someone had pre-empted discouragement, signs had been posted on the roadside trees informing vehicle occupants of the number of meters left to travel before they reached where they wanted to go and where with patience they would eventually be. And all of a sudden that’s where we were.

Where?

Well, the sign to the right of the entrance told me that this was Angel Park Hotel. I knew that this was no ordinary hotel, that it was part of a complex, a rural retreat tucked away in the heart of the East Prussian countryside, but other than that I had not the foggiest.

The gate through which we had passed had taken us into a carpark but today it was fully occupied. Thus, the line of retro vehicles moved slowly onward with us playing follow the leader, the leader being Yury, the man who had literally pipped us to the post at the Königsberg car rally a few weeks ago. Yury knew the Angel Park Hotel, he had visited it on many occasions, so our presumption was that he knew where he was going.

We bumped along for a few more metres, overgrown landscape on one side and a thicket of trees on the other, before emerging into a large, grassed area, scattered with tents and dotted with gazebos. It appeared that we had arrived.

Post contents (jump to section)
Angel Park Hotel Kaliningrad Region
Angel Park Hotel Sand Embankment & Swimming
Angel Park Hotel Accommodation
Angel Park Hotel Restaurant
Angel Park Hotel History
Angel Park Hotel Function Room
Sergey Leonidovich Martynov’s Story of Angel Park
Essential details (contact details)

It is not a man-made entity, the land occupied by and encompassing Angel Park, but a work of art painted by nature.

Angel Park Hotel Kaliningrad Region

The concept around which the Angel Park Hotel has been created is both defined and obscured by the word ‘park’. It is not a park in the municipal sense, laid out in the fashion of benches on either side of straight paths set within vistas of trees and neither does it entirely conform to the country park formula popular in the UK, where disused ground, such as depleted gravel pits and the wasteland that surrounds them, is requisitioned, reclaimed, replanted and then conserved.

On the contrary, the land occupied by Angel Park would appear to hold true to its natural contours: a secluded, sequestered, slightly undulating ground that tapers gently off before falling away abruptly from pronounced banks at the edge of a serpentine river.

At the upper level the park and all that it contains is as good as hidden by a steep grass-covered gradient, one side hemmed in by knolls and bushes, the other by an open, sweeping groundswell of natural foliage. At its lowest level, the river Angrappa cuts a broad winding swathe, its steep banks on the opposite side enveloped by a dense and heady profusion of numerous species of trees, bushes and wild plants. Behind these banks, as far as the eye can see, the land rises steadily, creating a valley below and crowning it above with woodland, the tops of its tall trees reaching up and touching the ark of the sky. It is not a man-made entity, the land occupied by and encompassing Angel Park, but a work of art painted by nature.

We had entered the park at its furthermost point, pulling our cars onto and in line with the edge of the camping area. From this position we were offered much of the view that I have described and, in addition, were able to obtain a better understanding of the park’s facilities, at least in this quarter.

Kaliningrad Retro Cars lined up at Angel Park Hotel

The gazebos, to which I alluded earlier, some hexagonal, some rectangular, some with wooden rooves, some pantiled, are positioned far enough apart to offer group visitors a measure of privacy and personal space. Each gazebo comes with its own custom-built barbecue and is fitted with electric hook-ups for kettles, radios, lighting etc.

In the centre of this arrangement stands a large, partially open-sided barn with enough seats and tables to accommodate a party, perhaps 50 people or more, with plenty of room left for dancing for those who are so inclined.

Open-sided barn Angel Park Kaliningrad region

This building is festooned with all manner of swings and other suspensions, including a giant sized punchbag, certainly enough gizmos to keep children and those who are big kids at heart occupied.

The bank above the river on the park side falls on two levels, and I particularly liked the way that the owners of the park had used this natural feature to build small huts into the banks and build them in such a way that their rooves and smoking barbecue chimneys rise cosily out of the ground.

Angel Park Hotel Sand Embankment & Swimming

The gentle, rolling nature of the landscape backed by judicious tree and shrub planting makes Angel Park the sort of place that inspires an immediate need to explore and no sooner had we arrived than Olga and I decided that we would take a stroll along the river.

Our walk brought us to a section of the riverbank that has been skillfully turned into a beach. Sand replaces grass in a large area where the ground rises and falls quite spectacularly and in whose centre lies a pond, the cone-shaped sides of which make it look like a giant funnel.

The river at this point attracts swimmers, whilst those who would rather watch than participate can lie back literally on one of several chunky wooden recliners overlooking the watery scene below. Barbecue facilities and the odd table or two make for a harmonious arrangement, offering both swimmers and their spectators a thoroughly workable compromise.

Olga, who is a swimmer, was so taken with this place that she advocated that we put it to our party that we relocate here pronto, but that was before we had grasped that each gazebo is hired in advance and that our gazebo was bought and paid for, for the duration of our stay. I had no quarrel with that. A seat, some beer and an excellent view, what more could one conceivably ask for?!

When we returned to our compatriots it was not beer that was on the menu but homemade vodka, so I quaffed some of that instead and, after a bite to eat, and having explored the hinterlands, we set off on foot again to explore the parts of Angel Park hidden from view by the trees.

The careful planting of groups of pines and firs, shrubs and bushes and the wending of pathways through them has created a woven intricacy where every twist and turn reveals something new, something different, something unexpected.

Weather Stone at Angle Park Hotel, Kaliningrad region

Weatherstone (above): No need to ever consult your mobile phone again about the weather! Angel Park Hotel’s Weather stone can tell you all this and more. It even has a built-in security system to alert you should somebody try to run off with it!

We happened upon various gazebo-style structures and chalets before emerging into the carpark opposite the main gate. Here, to the right of us, nestled among the trees, we discovered the ‘weather stone’ and in front of us a large, semi-open barn able to accommodate about 30 people. I particularly liked the way thinly sliced logs had been used to act as screening within and around this building.

Next door to this is the park’s reception and admin office and above it the restaurant. The restaurant has a wooden balcony offering gazers a pleasing view over a block-paved forecourt, with an accommodation hall to the left and a smaller accommodation unit in the centre. The scene is one of instantaneous tranquility. Whomsoever chose the background music that streams magically across the square like a gentle current of water trickling over a bed of smooth pebbles, must be as tuned to the natural ambience as he who designed the buildings, whose emphasis on softening materials and bygone architectural features compliment the rural setting without upsetting its apple cart.

Angel Park Hotel Accommodation

Most of the buildings at Angel have been imaginatively created and most have an olde-worlde theme. The accommodation block is a case in point, with its half-timbered finish, wooden staircase and eave-sheltered landing deck. The restaurant, largely through its balcony, extending eaves and pan-tiled roof, is pleasingly conformational, each element lending to the other, as well as to those of the surrounding buildings, an air and impression of relaxed rusticity.

Angel Park Hotel office & restaurant
Restored building Angel Park
Accommodation at Angel Park

The point at which two rivers meet, Angrapa and Pissa, is a place where people go to make a wish. Sergey, the owner of the Angel Park Hotel, recalls that many of his guests have confirmed that the wishes that they have made there have come true. I don’t know what’s happening behind that sign, but I have an idea its just wishful thinking!

Some of the buildings are new and aged by sensitive artifice, others, like the admin and restaurant building and the building in the centre of the square, have been rescued, renovated, built around, preserved and extended. Some, like the small row of wooden shacks that form a little street, which runs from the edge of the square opposite the rabbit hutches, are economy-built but yet possess a provincial charm of their own, and still others, such as the block we stayed in, have what might be called an acquired antiquity thanks to the use of recycled materials and a touch of the past in the stepped gable ends.

The accommodation at Angel Park Hotel ranges from no-frills basic to surprisingly rather plush. If you are going economy you get a little more than a Japanese capsule, but not a great deal more. For example, some of our group had decided that pushing the boat out was not for them but found out later that the harbour in which they were staying was rather small to say the least. An economy room at Angel Park Hotel basically, very basically, consists of a double bed, with single bed above it and a toilet.

To see how the other half would be living, we also took a gander in one of the wooden shacks that I mentioned earlier, where we found a similar set-up, differing only in the sense that one room had been built around the size of a double mattress, the other contained a single bed and between them both was a toilet and wash basin. Clocked from the outside, I could almost get romantic about these little wooden cabins, but romantic is not enough if you don’t like snug.

The good news is, however, that the average cost at the Angel for somewhere to lay your head, if your tenting days are done, is a mere 1500 roubles (15 quid) or, if you’re tenting days are not yet over ~ and mine decidedly are ~ you can pitch a tent at Angel Park for 300 roubles (£3), plus 100 roubles (£1) for each occupant.

Capsules, huts, tents none of these applied to me, as our good friends at the retro club in recognition of my Englishness and on the understanding that I needed somewhere to swing my cravat, and possibly because I am bit long in the tooth ~ long in the what? ~ I said tooth (it’s an expression which means old codger) ~ and having spent a relatively rough life but now in need of a little senior comfort, had seen fit to book my wife and I into one of Angel’s more upmarket rooms.

Our accommodation comprised two rooms in open-plan format with a spacious bathroom. The rooms were well equipped, with a king size double bed, dining table and chairs, a reproduction antique double wardrobe, well-stocked fridge, wall-mounted television and enough space in the upward direction to swing a hundred cravats. Bright, spacious and airy, and better than some four-star hotels that I have frequented, these rooms are the Angel’s Ritz. Their sleek, modern and capacious bathroom also sports a jacuzzi! And what is the difference in price, you ask, between these luxury rooms and the bargain basements? Only 2000 roubles, I gleefully reply, which in pounds sterling equates to £20 (Angel Park Hotel has many different categories of accommodation. For a full appraisal link to their website at the end of this article.)

If this had been England I would be expected to go down on one knee and beg for forgiveness for being so privileged; had it been communist Russia, I would have had to confess to bourgeoise tastes. Instead, I settled in and settled down with my conscience, trying to ignore a Bob Hope echo — the ironical line from the spoof western Paleface, which was: “I wonder what the poor people are doing tonight”!

Angel Park Hotel Restaurant

Budget people or no-budget people, in the evening it was a fait accompli that we and some of our group would meet up in the restaurant.

A large room, capable, I suspect, of holding about 50 diners, Angel’s restaurant benefits from the visual appeal of the pitched roof, angularity of the dorma windows and the boxed supporting framework that holds it all together, all of which are attractive features. When we entered the restaurant, Frank Sinatra was singing, “ … my kinda town …”, and this was my kinda restaurant.

I do not usually go a bundle on pastel décor, but in this setting it helped to amplify the appreciated presence of the old stuff with which the room was blessed. At the top of the winding staircase, a case of deep shelves display a fine collection of vintage typewriters and heavy metal sewing machines by Mr Singer & Co. There is a series of different mincers (not the kind that you find in Brighton) assembled on one of the cross rails, the wall at the far end of the room is besotted with all kinds of clocks and on top of the shelving units, which contain all kinds of mementoes and antiquarian books, I even found a black and white photo of my old friend Stierlitz, the fictional lead from that classic and superb 1970’s Russian TV serial Seventeen Moments of Spring. As I said, ‘my kinda restaurant’. Another plus was that the beer was different and good …

The next morning, not feeling as good as the beer tasted the night before, I was up and out just in time for last call for breakfast. One of our crew had finished breakfast and had also finished a pint of beer. No, I couldn’t!

Angel Park Hotel History

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Timeline of the site on which Angel Park is located

The settlement of Pakalehnen was part of Kraupischkehmen of the Insterburg region (today Chernyahovsk) until 03.06.1938. According to the census in 1933, 85 inhabitants lived on its territory. The owner was August Guddat. He was born in Pakalehnen, cultivated the land and kept cattle. He died during the First World War. To date, August Guddat has more than 300 descendants living around the world.
In 1938, Pakalehnen was renamed Schweizersdorf , meaning ‘Swiss village’.
From 1945 the site became a farm with changing owners until 01.07.2012.
Today, it is a country park – Angel Park Hotel – and has been since 03.07.2013.

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The highlight of today, apart from feeling better as time went on, was when the owner of Angel Park, Sergey Martynov, came out into the courtyard to fill us in on the history of the site where he had brought his vision of Angel Park to life.

It was here that he told us the story of the water and the well (see inset panel) and the impromptu construction of the function room (see inset panel).

The well
In the courtyard at the front of Angel’s restaurant and admin building, just to the left, stands a covered well. As part of the renovation and development of Angel Park, Sergey and his family re-opened the well, dredged it and re-dug it. Out of curiosity, Sergey took a sample of the water to be analysed and was amazed when a few weeks later the test results revealed that the water was some of the purest in the former East Prussian region. Later, a large solid silver Roman Catholic crucifix was found at the bottom of the well, causing some to postulate that this could account for the water’s quality. But whether this was because of faith in the age-old belief that silver is a natural water cleanser or faith in something infinitely more arcane, who can readily say?

Angel Park Hotel Function Room

Testifying that his love for history equals that of his love for nature, Sergey showed us the cellar they had unearthed whilst digging the footings for the new function room.

The short winding staircase that leads down into a single arched-roof chamber, all in dark red-brick, is honoured to have had its own above-surface entrance built especially for it, also in red brick, complete with proper door. But why is this subterranean room called ‘Whiskey Bar’?

Whiskey Bar
My wife, Olga, emailed Sergey for clarification: Why is the cellar called ‘Whiskey Bar’?

Sergey replied: Good afternoon Olga. It just happened! People sometimes give their own names to places. For example, the Small Bath on the price list is called Small Bath, and we hung a wooden carved sign next to it saying ‘Russian Soft Bath’, but the guests called it Black Bath and the name that was given to it by the guests got stuck, and now we also call it Black Bath ;)))). By the same principle, the guests called the basement ‘Whiskey Bar’. At one point I joked, saying to the women that the cellar is for men only! ~ and this turned the women on so strongly that they became unstoppable in their desire to get in ;)))))). That’s how the playful name got stuck !

There is a project to make a small museum in the basement to display cognac samples produced in Chernyakhovsk (they produce about 25 types today!). If I’m not mistaken, our local Chernyakhovsk factory produces 13% of all the cognac produced in Russia!

The entrance to what Sergey believed was once the cellar of the settlement’s principal domicile has been simply but effectively incorporated into the function room by linking to it with a sloping roof, thus turning what would have been external space into an integral porch or even an outside smoking room.

The function room
Angel Park Hotel’s function room is a gem: bright, airy, atmospheric and with the capacity to cater for 150-people. Its original Art Deco bar was rescued from a condemned hotel in Germany and shipped to the former East Prussian territory, where it now holds pride of place. Judging by the quality of this building you would naturally think that a lot of time and planning went into its placing, design and construction, but you would be wrong. Time was limited and of the essence. According to Sergey, the owner of Angel Park, the gestation period from conception to construction, including putting the finishing touches to the interior and the ground around it, was less than nine months. This was because someone who was interested in holding their wedding reception at Angel Park, whilst more than satisfied with the location, noted that the upstairs restaurant could only accommodate 50 guests, whereas they required a hall for 150 people. After a brief discussion and the fee for the party agreed, the potential client suggested that Sergey should build a function room for them. Sergey proposed that if they were willing to pay a deposit to meet the costs of the party (a percentage of the £150 hiring fee!) in advance, he would give it his best shot. And less than nine months later, his ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ style of entrepreneurship gave Angel Park a brand-new function room, which was christened by its first marriage in August as planned.

Function room for hire at Angel Park Hotel, Kaliningrad region

At the rear of the function room, a double set of doors opens up onto a secluded patio. On the other side of this, partially obscuring the view beyond, stands an ancient linden tree, whose outspread bough shaped like an arch could have been custom made for Angel Park and its weddings. Adorned with a white veil and lights, the novel shape of the linden tree’s bough adds a photogenic and romantic touch for newlyweds on their special day and passing beneath it the experience only gets better.

Mick Hart & Olga Hart under the Linden tree — **Mick Hart & Olga Hart beneath the linden tree**

On the other side, a few steps away, from a viewing platform purpose built for the eminence there, the most magnificent view presents itself high above the winding river and out across a blissful landscape that must over many years have captured the hearts and minds of countless generations.

Sergey Leonidovich Martynov’, owner of Angel Park, with Mick & Olga Hart & members of the Kaliningrad Retro Car Club

Treasure, I thought; “gift!” said Sergey, and in the same breath touched upon the other-worldly, the positive energy with which this magical East Prussian landscape has been blessed.

Of the many special moments of this weekend, the two that will remain with me are when we were standing in the courtyard listening to Sergey recounting the history of the land before and after he bought it, and when we passed beneath the linden tree.

In the courtyard, references to the lost German village, to its people and to the profusion of relics belonging to that vanished world which are continually being unearthed and in such prodigious quantities that they could fill ‘two or three museums’, along with other time-portentous tales, wafted around our semi-circle of listeners like wisps of smoke from a fire still burning somewhere in the past. With the sun shining down upon us and the soft music rippling from the park’s external speakers, I was struck by a mystical tone that is far harder to describe than it will ever be for me to forget.

The second unerasable memory was when I passed beneath the linden tree to that glorious view on a glorious day: the river winding and snaking below, a sparkling ribbon of movement and light, and the banks on its opposite side rich with trees and foliage.

I remember Sergey saying that for newlyweds the act of passing beneath the linden arch into the grandeur beyond symbolised the new beginning in their lives.

Looking back at the linden tree, with its arched carved out by nature, I wondered about the nuanced meanings this ancient tree had possessed for the people of the past and the part it had played in their changing lives and fortunes. How fascinating it would be to play it all back slowly, peeling away at the layers of time over each successive moment.

There was a slight breeze, it carried across the river, brushed through the hair of the people sitting on the viewing platform and came to rest in the linden tree behind us. On it I heard the voice of Victor Ryabinin reminding me, “I told you that this region was a special place, it drew me into it as it has drawn countless people …”

It added me to its list a long time ago, and having met and spoken with Sergey Martynov I have no doubt that he has been inducted also.

Come to Angel and join the club.

Sergey Leonidovich Martynov’s Story of Angel Park

Angel Park

The Angel Park Hotel and its grounds, or, as his family call it, ‘The village for spoilt city dwellers!’, is the result of Sergey Martynov’s personal vision, which was to restore and recreate the old settlement, breathe new life into it and form a recreation centre for families in the east of the Kaliningrad region.

Sergey Martynov, Angel Park’s inspiration and owner, recounts: When we arrived in the region in 2012 there were few places of entertainment for children and families in rural areas. In fact, few exist today.

Our plans were and are to build a dozen more houses and cottages in the style of rural Prussia and restore the Walfrieden Mud Clinic on the site of the Angel, the medicinal properties of which were known far beyond the borders of Eastern Prussia until 1944.

Every year we build at least one building and make improvements to the site.

We bought the settlement in 2012 and began restoring it in 2013. The picture below shows the only surviving building, if you can call the five walls of the barn a building, which in the past was used by 120 native villagers.

Wherever possible, we try to preserve the old style and the old materials of the buildings we restore and recreate. For example, the roof of the building in the photograph below and its walls are built from old bricks and pantiles.

The cellar, pictured here, is preserved in its original condition.

The pictures below show the gradual evolution of Angel Park from when we bought the land and first arrived here to how it looks today.

Nature, assisted by the new owners of the old settlement, create a corner in paradise:

Essential details:

Angel Park Hotel
238158, Kaliningrad region
Chernyakhovsky district
92nd km of Gusevskoye highway A229

Tel: +7 (4012) 33 65
43 +7 (921) 853 30 99

Angel Park Hotel Website: https://angelkld.com/

Репетитор английского языка в Калининграде

Svetlogorsk a Tale of Two Lifts

No other pick-me-up necessary

Published: 31 July 2021 ~ Svetlogorsk a Tale of Two Lifts

It was winter, or somewhere on the edge of the coldest season in the year.

We were walking along Svetlogorsk prom, the original piece, and having fooled ourselves into believing that the sea air would be all those euphemisms that they are fond of using in England, bracing, invigorating, fresh, which mean ridiculously and intolerably cold, my brass monkeys were telling me that it was time to head for a nice warm bar.

In those days, 2001, the choice along Svetlogorsk prom was rather limited. You had a café, take it or leave it, and we had only just left it.

“It’s working!” exclaimed Olga.

“My charm?!”

No. She was pointing towards a tall, ribbed biscuit tin standing on end at the side of the bank.

“It’s a lift, and it’s working,” she exclaimed again.

“Is it?!” I asked.

Both pronouncements were hard to believe, as one section of the tin’s corrugated metal was missing and two others were flapping around like a panic-stricken liberal at a patriots’ convention.

These were the days before marriage, when making a good impression was almost as important as drinking a nice pint of beer, so without exposing my reluctance I agreed to take the lift.

“Let’s do it!” I announced.

Ten seconds later we were doing it, or about to, we were about to go up in the lift, so why did I have that sinking feeling, as if I had just been shafted.

It wasn’t a big one, quite small in fact ~ looks can be deceptive ~ and as it was already up, it took some time to bring it back down, and with the most frightful clanking. I had heard a lot about Kaliningrad’s lifts, lifts inside 1970s’ flats that regularly got stuck, and the last thing I wanted was to be trapped in this sardine can slowly but surely refrigerating in the ice-cold wind that was whipping around the Baltics.

There were four of us in the lift; myself, Olga, the man who pressed the ‘up’ button and my apprehension; anymore and it would have been really crowded. Not the sort of lift you would want to take in these uncomfortable days of slavish social distancing.

The lift had rattled and groaned down, and it rattled and groaned up, but it got there, a little too quick for my liking. I was just beginning to enjoy it! Isn’t it always the way!

The doors opened onto another world: an even colder one.

It was like stepping out of the TARDIS, except this TARDIS was smaller on the inside than it was on the out, and onto a platform which, although buckled and uneven, could at a pinch have accommodated at least a Dalek or two.

My word but the wind up here was all those euphemisms and more that meant, ‘Hell, I’m freezing my nuts off’, and I was off as well, pretty sharpishly. Olga could stand and admire the view as much as she liked, impressing her or not, it was time to nail my true colours to the mast and hot foot it to bar-room sanctuary!

Svetlogorsk a Tale of Two Lifts

Kaliningrad’s new beach-side lift, located three-quarters of the way along the new promenade as part of its grand development plan, is solid-built, having a large and airy assembly room, a modern ticket office and turnstile entry system, with marbled interior and two lifts spacious enough in which to hold an illegal gathering in the midst of a pandemic.

Svetlogorsk Promenade Lift 2021 — **Svetlogorsk a tale of two lifts: The 2021 lift ticket and boarding office**

The apparatus by which the lifts work is well oiled, and the lifts themselves have a lovely bedside manner. ‘Going up’ says the automated voice, which is rather reassuring, and with the slightest of bumps the ascent begins. Hoisting isn’t in it; you glide and as you glide, to dispel claustrophobia and replace it instead with a fear of heights, the shaft becomes transparent. Through the now glass sides daylight pours in and with it views of the sea, the sky and the coastline, the ground slipping quietly and smoothly away, until, with another gentle bump, the lift comes to rest where it should.

Everyone holds their breath, except those that can’t breathe through their masks, wondering, as lift travellers’ do, what if the doors don’t open? But guess what, they do. And there you are, standing umpteen feet from the ground in the long, glass viewing gallery, feeling as high as a kite and besotted with the view, some of which has been there for centuries and some of which is changing before your very eyes.

Tip for the moment: Every moment in a person’s life is historic, some more historic than others. Don’t forget to capture these for the sake of social history.

View from Svetlogorsk lift — **View from the top of the Svetlogorsk Promenade lift, July 2021, showing development in progress**

Svetlogorsk Promenade Perchance to Dream

Not there today, here tomorrow

Published: 30 July 2021 ~ Svetlogorsk Promenade Perchance to Dream

Before the Baltic seaside resort of Svetlogorsk was Svetlogorsk, I mean when it was Rauschen, the promenade, along which smart and well-dressed German ladies and gentlemen walked to be seen, to socialise and to partake of the fresh sea air, was of the slatted-wood variety and ran from where the Soviet sun dial stands today to the corner of the access road that twists and curves from the town above.

To the right of the sundial lay a stretch of beach, three-quarters of which was covered in rocks and boulders interspersed with brief ribbons of sand. I walked along there once looking conspicuous in my brown Oxford brogues, like a failed graduate from English spy school.

All that has gone now, including my brogues, replaced by a long, broad swathe of rolling concrete that has more than doubled the old prom’s size and distance and is now in the preliminary stage of hosting a dramatic series of dazzling hotels that will rise sublimely and also precipitously from the foot of the shore.

Svetlogorsk promenade takes shape

This new and inevitably controversial development all but obliterated what little bit of sand there was, although in the last 12 months or more the sand has reappeared, shipped judiciously in from somewhere to quell the rising tide of discontent at nature’s loss for profit’s gain.

The promenade itself is both a luxury and convenience. It is nicely finished in variegated styles and colours of block-paving, as well as granite slabs and traditional wooden slats, providing plenty of space for perambulation both on foot and on wheels.

The street furniture combines traditional with modern exotic: crescent-shaped backless and wrought-iron benches in more than sufficient numbers take care of the bum department and matching black waste bins, black pendant lampstands and bollards, also in black, borrow for their style and class from classic designs of the late 19^th century and the earliest years of the 20^th.

The extensive hording behind which the pile-driving and foundation laying is busily underway for the ambitious sea-view development is brightly printed with artist’s impressions of what the strip will look like when the heavy plant machinery goes, the noise has all died down, the dust has settled and the buildings are up.

Heavy plant machinery Svetlogorsk Promenade — **Svetlogorsk promenade extension under construction, July 2021**

The scenes foretold are predominantly night-time ones. They present an attractive window-lit oasis of seductive commercial modernity. In this light, with the surf-rolling sea out front and the steep, foliated, tree-topped banks out back, Svetlogorsk has never looked so sensual. It’s Frankie Vaughan’s moonlight and Chris de Burgh’s lady in red all wrapped up in a silky-smooth smooch under the stars, on top of your dreams.

Artists Impression of Sevtlogorsk Promenade Development — **A computer-generated image of Svetlogorsk promenade**

Down the road a bit in daylight, stands the already up and running replacement pedestrian lift. It’s a cut above the old one (more of that later), which could well have been an advert for corrugated tin had not sections of it in the fullness of time simply upped and blown away.

Svetlogorsk Promenade lift — **The new lift on Svetlogorsk promenade, 2021**

The new lift is no such beast. It is a solid-looking affair, with its own concourse and a clean, no-nonsense interior. At the side of it, rather less spectacular but none the less fun, stand a couple of 1950s’ retro American diner caravans dispensing food of the fast variety, together with teas, coffees and ices.

Diner Van, Baltic Coast, Russia — **A ‘diner’ fast-food wagon next to the lift on Svetlogorsk’s promenade extension, July 2021**

It was whilst I was sitting opposite these on one of the chairs and at one of the tables provided drinking my tea that I had the feeling that I had seen this lift before, or something quite like it, in the opening credits of Stingray. Touched by Gerry Anderson, I half expected to hear that dislocated voice booming across the decades, “Anything can happen in the next half hour!”

It did. I finished my tea.

On the slatted wood just in front of the thick metal railings which allow you to see the sea, there are a series of very nice, heavy wooden recliners, which my wife had me photograph as she reclined away for Facebook. You also get traditional seats of the park-bench type, thoughtfully encased in a metal-framed and polycarbonate curvature, so perchance it should rain you can stay where you are, keeping an eye on the sea just in case it might do something different.

Sea view from Svetlogorsk new promenade — **Sea view from Svetlogorsk’s new promenade**

We walked to the prom twice in one weekend to experience the thought-provoking contrast between the sea that never changes and the Svetlogorsk coastline that does and is.

On the first occasion we left the prom the hard way, climbing the steep and finally zig-zagging metal steps to emerge all hot and sweaty and gasping for breath, but still pretending that we could do it again all day, at the top of the road where the Hotel Rus once stood, and indeed, still does, albeit now in a closed and in a somewhat lonely capacity. If I had not been so close to keeling over after climbing the stairway to heaven, I could almost have shed a tear. The Hotel Rus closed! Who would Adam and Eve it! Another piece of my personal history gone!

Having learnt our lesson the hard way, on the second occasion of leaving the prom, we paid our 50 roubles and took the lift.

I’ll tell you about that later.

**Svetlogorsk promenade hotel construction with recently completed lift, July 2021**

It Happened at Waldau Castle Kaliningrad

A night to remember

Published: 13 July 2021 ~ It Happened at Waldau Castle Kaliningrad

Take a 750-year-old castle, a friendly curator-family from central Russia, an impressive and well-stocked museum, two classic Volgas and a vintage Hanomag car, a guided tour by a youthful tour guide better informed than Tacitus, home-baked bread the delights of which I have never tasted before made by a child baker, a female troupe in full traditional German dress demonstrating Prussian folk dancing, first-class quality beer and cognac, a rousing speech by our friend Grozmani about the book that took him 29 years to research and write, an opera concert performed in the open air by professional opera singers, a grand finale supper with large iced cakes, and what you have is one of the most unusual and interesting birthday parties that I have ever had the good fortune to have been invited to.

The curious location of this event, to which we were driven in style in our friend’s, Arthur’s, classic Volga, was Waldau Castle, thirty minutes or so by car from Kaliningrad.

We had called at the castle at the end of the Kaliningrad Retro Car Club’s rally a couple of weeks before, on which occasion I had been attracted to the castle on many levels but immediately by the feel of what it was and what you would not expect it to be.

It Happened at Waldau Castle Kaliningrad

No sooner had we passed through the gate into the castle grounds than I was smitten with an enveloping sense of calm, a convalescent repose, which had it been a churchyard or a monastery would have excited no further response but, given the purpose for which it had been constructed and by which it had lived out most of its life, fortification, seemed oddly at variance with its military biography.

My first impression had been no aberration, for the same singularity stepped out to greet me when we passed through the castle gate this evening. There was no challenge, no rattle of sabres or priming of firearms, in fact nothing to authenticate its militaristic legacy, only an inviting, calling, sense of calm, the kind that those who seek and who are fortunate to find might speak of in terms of sanctuary.

We had pulled up in our Volga not at the front of the house but a short distance from it and parked at the side of the drive. Although the castle’s surviving principal building was visible from where we were, it was yet indistinct, only a glimpse of its tall, grey walls asserted itself through the wooded area that lay between us, the tree trunks and branches obscuring whilst the leafy canopy overhead cast a thoughtful but not unpleasing shade over the tranquil prospect and introduced a welcome coolness in which refuge could be taken, for although it was early evening the heat of the day had not yet abated.

Set in the middle of this entreating copse stands a solid monument of large, rectangular proportions surmounted by an apex top. It is dedicated to those who fell in the First World War. This is a German monument which has on both of its narrower ends an incised representation of the imperial military cross and along the top edge of the monument’s greater width words of commemoration.

There is something so touchingly melancholic about this monument immersed within the shade of Castle Waldau’s trees. I detect in it an attitude of self-consciousness, as if it plainly understands that whilst symbolism is timeless, the land on which it is stationed, and for which the men it pays tribute to gave their lives, is now but a point of historical record and has lost all claim to anything else.

Be this as it may, I could find nothing in the calm that I have already described to suggest the slightest trace of rancour, just a gentle, quiet, contentment. So, if there are ghosts in the grounds of Waldau Castle, you are less likely to hear them rattling chains than to catch them occasionally sighing.

It Happened at Waldau Castle Kaliningrad

The path that leads away from the German memorial led us in a straight line to the front door of the castle. We stood on the opposite side of the sweeping driveway taking in the Teutonic might with which all German buildings of a certain age and stature in this part of the world are redoubtably invested. Bold, solid and, apart from the section of the building devoted to the doorway and its encasement, austere, the structure embodies typical if mythical German virtues and has an impregnability about it that perceptibly transcends bricks and mortar, effortlessly overshadowing the knowledge and laws of mere physics.

The only concession that the architect of this building has made to the decorative lies in the perpendicular that projects, surrounds and extends vertically from the main entrance, a feature which supports two sets of simple Gothic windows, three in parallel, both sets incorporating tracery and both arranged within a rectangular oriel supported by a stepped, pyramidical corbel. Enrichment takes the form of a small number of various blind, recessed arches, with the oriel culminating in a crenelated cornice and the perpendicular typically concluded as a broad stepped gable, the last horizontal platform of which makes the perfect base for Mrs Stork and her nest.

Waldau Castle Gothic features — **Two photographs (see above) depicting Waldau Castle entrance and the Gothic nature of the embellishing features**

To the right of the building, orienting from the position of observer standing at the front of the castle, is a second three-storey building connected to the principal by a high wall. This second building houses the castle museum.

**The museum at Castle Waldau, Kaliningrad region, Russia**

Both the castle and its grounds have passed through innumerable transitions in its 750-year history and no better appreciation of this can be found than by visiting the on-site museum, which occupies the cellar, ground and second floors of the surviving wing of the castle.

It is impressive in its collection of artefacts, impressive in its layout, impressive in its inventive displays and impressive in the past that clings to it in every tread of its ancient steps and every nook and cranny. It is so impressive that it needs to be covered in its own article, so we will put it on hold for the time being and revisit it at a later date. Ghosts and God willing!

It Happened at Waldau Castle Kaliningrad

In the wall that connects the two remaining parts of Waldau Castle, there is a small, low archway, the kind in historic buildings that must be walked through in order that the apparition that you will eventually become can follow in the footsteps of those that once like you were physical forms. It is truly a time-honoured ritual, in every sense of the word, but do not forget to lower your head!

On the other side of this portal, we found ourselves on a piece of wild ground, on a slight eminence looking over more ground of an even wilder nature: lush, green, overgrown and silent. This is the last step on the road to complete tranquility that you would want to take of your own volition. We ambled along, Olga, our friend Inara and I, stopping now and again to move fragments of brick with our shoes or to pick up a piece of pottery, deep in the thought of moments past.

The back of the castle is not in the best of health. There is no denying its solid state, but the wall rendering has given way in places and the castle’s eyes, the many windows spread out across its awesome width and height, are covered in a mess of makeshift cataracts. I cannot remember when, if ever, I last beheld such an incongruous and anomalous sight, in which doors of all shapes, sizes, makes and periods have been requisitioned for use as wooden blinds to eye-patch empty window sockets. But work proceeds, and as Waldau Castle knows, possibly better than anyone, nothing remains the same for long or forever.

Returning to the front of the castle was a lot like having swapped Leonard Cohen for VE Day. The vintage cars had been lined up on the opposite side of the drive to the castle entrance and the party guests were busy assembling in the middle of the driveway.

A troupe of ladies all dressed in period Prussian costume were about to demonstrate the art of traditional Prussian dancing. The music and footwork in clogs set the party spirit in motion, but before getting down to the serious business of sampling the beer and cognac, we were about to be given a guided tour of Waldau Castle’s ground floor rooms.

Waldau Castle, Russia. Typical Prussian folk dancing

On the other side of Waldau Castle’s entrance sits a great hall, which owes its present restored condition to the hard work and volunteer commitment of one family, the Sorokins, whose tender loving care can be seen and felt everywhere. Observing and appreciating is one thing, but it is quite another to have to clean and repair acres of wooden floorboards, bricks by the thousands and dusty, peeling plasterwork and have to construct hefty, wooden, external doors and massy window frames when by trade you are not a carpenter but are the sort of valuable person who can turn your hand to anything.

When my wife mentioned this feat to the head of the Sorokin family, he modestly confirmed, “No, I am not a carpenter by trade, but I believe that everyone has an innate knowledge that they rarely ever use, and if necessitated can turn their hand to anything.” I would like to have concurred, and I did note the professionalism of his castle doors and windows, but I also recalled in secret embarrassment how, back in the 1970s, my one foray into DIY had resulted in the humiliating experience of witnessing the wall-mounted can opener that I had screwed to the wall lasting for less than a day before it fell off ~ and so I had my doubts. As the saying goes, “Horses for courses.”

In the process of describing Waldau Castle it is next to impossible not to resort to words like strong, solid, robust, but it is only when you get inside that you are able to fully appreciate the exactitude with which these attributions apply. The windows, sitting as they do at the front of broad, deep brick arches, reveal the thickness of the walls to be at least three feet, and the quality of the brickwork, in all its restored glory, leaves you in little doubt that endurance and longevity have always been the castle’s watchwords.

But restoration in terms of visitor attraction is not confined to structural work. Also to be considered is, for want of a better word, the inclusion of suitable ‘props’, the seeking out, acquiring and emplacing of interior décor and household items best able to create a medieval atmosphere. Central to this objective, and situated in the main hall of the castle, are two suits of armour ~ a matching pair (I did not stop to check if it was ‘his’ and ‘hers’), conjoined with wall-mounted hunting trophies, intricate tapestries and a ceiling pendant made from a heavy wooden wheel entirely surrounded by antler horns. I’ll have the full Hermann Göring baronial hunting-lodge works, please!

Olg Hart at Waldau Castle — Olga Hart with tapestry at Waldau Castle

Wall thickness Waldau Castle — Olga Hart with tapestry at Waldau Castle

The tapestries, which are as colourful and imaginative as they are intricate, are made to order for the Sorokin family from specific patterns that they provide to a specialist company. Now that my wife had seen these, I wondered how long I would have to wait. It was not long: “I really want to buy one of these!” Olga exhaled.

Our tour guide was the oldest son of the Sorokin family, who not only had an incredible knowledge of the history of the castle, but was fluent, articulate and completely unphased when it came to holding court to so many adult strangers. My Russian gets better every day (I boast ye not), but my present knowledge was no match for the speed and confidence with which this young man discharged his verbal duty.

Our guide led us from the main hall into an adjoining room. There are no corridors, at least between rooms, in this part of Waldau Castle, thus access to the three great rooms at ground level is obtained on a door-to-room basis.

The second room, though large, was of smaller dimensions than the first, but as with the former had undergone extensive renovation and as with the former was work in progress.

From here we were taken into the kitchens, where, at the far end of the room, two hefty brick-built ovens encased in rusting white metal testified to the gargantuan task of cooking meals on a banquet scale. The ovens were quiet today and the castle interior cool, but one can imagine how unbearably hot and sweaty this environment would once have been when full of cooks and servants and the ovens in full swing.

In this room there was another oven. Tall, slim, far more elegant than the ones I have described, made of ebonised cast iron, with a succession of white porcelain knobs protruding from rows and layers of doors, this oven was of German manufacture. It had a German precision-build quality about it that was undeniably superior, and I should not imagine for one moment that anyone among our company was in the least surprised to learn that this fine example of industrial German craftsmanship, which is almost 170 years old, is as functional today as it was on the day it was made.

Antique German Stove — **Not a grandfather clock!**

Two other features in this kitchen that caught my eye were the heavy wooden serving hatch in the wall to the back of me and a nineteenth century iron ceiling column, with an intricately wrought Corinthian capital.

Whilst our young tour guide was fulfilling his duty, a man entered the room who was immediately recognisable to us. It was our friend Ivan. At first, I thought what a coincidence, and in a way I was right. I knew that Ivan was renovating an old German building of his own, but I had not realised that it was just up the road from Waldau Castle. And a second coincidence, it was his birthday, too.

We were greeting each other just as the tour guide was explaining about the intrinsic dangers of old building restoration. Apparently, in the process of their labours the Sorokin family had uncovered Schweinfurt paint, or Emerald Green as it was generically known.

Emerald Green was an extremely popular colour in the early nineteenth century. It was used in paint, wallpapers and a number of other pigmented and dyed products, and it was used extensively. But whilst most of us know about the dangers of friable asbestos, less people are acquainted with the fact that many old green paints and green-coloured wallpapers, those made from a compound in which arsenic was one of the main ingredients, could, did and can kill. Highly toxic when it was produced, the dust from this arsenic derivative continues to pose a serious threat to health and retains its lethal potential.

Right on cue, no sooner had our tour guide apprised our fellow tourers of this warning from the past, than a playful poltergeist or two, decided to shake the ceiling. A small amount of dust descended, enough to make our company beat a hasty retreat.

In the first room, where we had now re-assembled, I had noticed earlier that opposite the main entrance there was a carved, Gothic screen in wood, which, on closer investigation, I discovered was employed to separate the area in which we were standing from a corridor that ran the entire length of the back of the building. This was an unusual arrangement, at least it was not one that I was familiar with in the large historic houses and castles that I had visited in England. In the wall of the corridor, a few feet back from the screen, I also observed a great wooden staircase that could be closed off, if need be, by two incredibly large and heavy doors.

We were not privy to this section of the castle today or to its upper storeys, but I hope we may be allowed to explore at a later date.

There are many things that can inculcate a thirst, and history is one of them. A table in the main hall had been laid out with food, bottles of beer and cognac and, on the word ‘go’, it was every man for himself (I have no idea what the women were doing?). To accompany my cognac, I chose a large, flat, round bread roll, and was glad that I did. I cannot recall tasting bread half as delicious as this. The second surprise was that the baker of this delicacy turned out to be a young boy, the youngest son of the Sorokin family. When Olga praised him for the bread, he threw his arms around her and thanked her for her kind words, saying that it was the nicest thing that anyone had said to him. I endorsed her praise, adding Königsbacker beware!

Our friend Yury and I were in full flow about the quality of the beers when, in true Russian party fashion, it was announced that we all had to congregate outside on the drive to do something? When I discovered what that something was, an attempt by the hosts to dragoon us into a dance routine, I swiftly excused myself. Our friend Ivan followed my lead, but Yury stepped up to the challenge, and I was only too happy to play the part of photographer as he was twizzled around the tarmacadam.

**Yury Grozmani demonstrating the art of Prussian folk dancing**; **and above, the talented boy who bakes the bread**

We had not long been back inside, and not too far from the table, when a second announcement was made. It was now time to witness an operatic performance, which would take place on the granite stone courtyard at the front of the Sorokin house.

It would be dishonest of me to claim that I have any love or affection for opera, but, by the same token, it would be no less dishonest if I did not admit that I enjoyed this performance immensely. The Sorokin family’s house made a superb backdrop, the large open window with wrought-iron lattice work emitted the piano accompaniment perfectly and, from where we were sitting, gave us a first-rate view of the pianist at work.

I marvelled at the fact that the performers required no artificial amplification systems to project their voices, which were either remarkably well toned, aided by the acoustics of the building that lay behind them, or both.

Before the performance commenced, our friend, Yury Grozmani, delivered a speech as requested by the host, about the book he had researched and written on the vintage cars of Königsberg. Yury is what you would call a natural speech maker and, as he admitted himself, once fired up it was difficult for him to come back down.

Yury Grozmani makes a speech at Waldau Castle

Yury delivers a speech about the book that he worked on for 29 years

When both performances reached their respective conclusions, the tables were rearranged and laid out for supper. I refrained from indulging in the big iced cakes but was quite pleased that we had enough time and enough cognac left for one or two for the road before being chauffeured home in style by Arthur in his Volga.

Essential details (not of the party, but of Waldau Castle):

Waldau Castle
Kaliningradskaya Ulitsa, 20
Nizov’e,
Kaliningrad Oblast, 238313, Russia

Tel: 007 (963) 299-85-43

Opening hours
7 days a week ~ 10am~5pm

How to get there
By car, taxi, bus. The approximate journey time is 30 minutes

A Gothic Favourite of Svetlogorsk Revisited

Appraising the restoration of an architectural delight

Published: 1 July 2021

Back in February 2020, I felt compelled to flag one of my favourite historical buildings in the Baltic resort of Svetlogorsk, the former German town of Rauschen. At the time of writing, this superb example of neo-Gothic architecture was exhibiting signs of year-on-year neglect, having stood empty for almost two decades, and whilst its shabbiness combined with the Romanticist style in which it is built and embellished lent it a more than passing air of Hitchcockianism, it was evident that unless remedial action was taken, and taken soon, catastrophe would ensue.

A Gothic favourite of Svetlogorsk revisited

Gratifying it was, therefore, to discover on a recent trip to Svetlogorsk that the initiative had been taken, money had been invested and this architectural icon had been rescued from extinction.

Admittedly, the sunny yellow paintwork, new roof and the homely inclusion of window boxes in full bloom have diminished the prospect of the Castle of Otranto, but since Svetlogorsk is prone to the odd thunderstorm or two, all that is needed are a few circling bats and one or two long flowing cloaks and imagination is back in business.

Even without these props, the Gothic allure shines through. Revivalist architecture of this period (c.1920s) demonstrates the extent to which it is possible to achieve ‘imposing’ without descending headlong into the unforgivable maelstrom of conspicuous consumption and glitz. Granted, the house is bold and arresting but not in a way that exposes it to accusations of show and pretentiousness. Even its salient feature, the striking square-section turret with ornamented pinnacle, evades such criticism, for whilst it embodies magnificence, the visual impression, as immediate and memorable as it is, is not, depending on the observer’s susceptibility, neither as lasting nor profound in its simpler evocation as the literary and folk-lore associations that cumulatively manifest when observing it from different angles, on different occasions throughout the year.

A Gothic favourite of Svetlogorsk revisited

When you are next in Svetlogorsk, stop a while to observe, engage and enjoy this venerable building. A few yards more and you will arrive at yet another Rauschen/Svetlogorsk gem, this being the Hartman Hotel, a sensitively restored hostelry whose delights you can savour over good food and a bevvy or two whilst relaxing on the hotel terrace.

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The Hartman Hotel Svetlogorsk reviewed by Mick Hart

Willie & Greta Hartmann may still be drinking tea on the hotel terrace …

Published: 27 June 2021 ~ The Hartman Hotel Svetlogorsk reviewed by Mick Hart

I often wondered what was going on behind the plastic sheets and scaffolding, which, it seemed to me, had been there for years, and then, in the winter of 2020, the sheeting was removed and there stood this immaculately renovated building bearing the name Hartman Hotel.

As a portion of the hotel’s name was synonymous with mine, ‘Hart’, the prospect of not having my photo taken standing next to it was inconceivable. My wife would later use this photograph to create a Facebook post, the implication being that this latest addition to the Svetlogorsk hotel portfolio was under my ownership. How does the expression go? You wish!!

The Hartman Hotel, Svetlogorsk ~ a brief history
The Hartman Hotel, Svetlogorsk, is the modern successor to the Hartmann Hotel, Rauschen, which itself succeeded the Waldesrand (Forest Edge). The Waldesrand began life in 1910 at a time when the small Prussian town of Rauschen, nestled on the Baltic Coast, was renowned as a spar resort and revered for the health-restoring properties of its fresh sea and pine-tree woodland air.

The name Hartmann was given to the hotel after its new owner, Willie Hartmann, acquired it in the 1920s. When it re-opened in 1925, it incorporated a restaurant, had undergone various interior improvements and had been remodelled as a year-round venue.

Willie Hartmann and his wife, Greta, took great pride in the running and the reputation of their new venture, and it was not long before Hotel Hartmann became a firm favourite, attracting people from far and wide as well as local dignitaries.

When the Second World War changed the course of history, the Hartmanns were forced to abandon their treasured home and business. Fate was kind to them in that they survived the war, resettled and continued to work in the hotel trade, but in 1945 Rauschen officially died and with it the Hartmann Hotel.

Destiny, however, has a strange way of intervening, sometimes in ways that are least expected. Who would have thought, for example, that 76 years after the war, through all the vicissitudes of change and temporality that it inflicted, not only would a hotel faithfully replicated upon the designs of its predecessor rise phoenix-like from the ashes of time but also would be restored to the standards of its former self and revived to bear the name of its most successful owner?

The answer, Willie Hartmann: “War is not eternal,” he told his wife, “… a hotel will always be needed … our grandchildren will still drink tea on the terrace of this hotel!”

What he meant by that in relation to the outcome of the war is a moot point. In early 2020, the descendants of Willie Hartmann discovered by chance whilst surfing on the net that their grandfather’s hotel had been restored, resurrected and eponymously named.

They wrote a heartfelt letter of thanks to the new owners, acknowledging their sensitivity to and appreciation of the hotel’s place in the history of the region, recognising that the new owners could quite easily have taken much of the hard work out of their new project by limiting the conversion to a simple contemporary makeover.

The extent to which the hotel’s exterior resembles that of its predecessor is clearly demonstrated by comparing our photographs, taken in 2021, with those taken in the 1920s, which appear in a booklet thoughtfully commissioned by the hotel’s new owners and devoted to the hotel’s history for the edification of guests and visitors.

The Hartman Hotel Svetlogorsk

My first encounter with the new Hartman (we shall, out of respect, continue to spell it the old German way, Hartmann), that is when the building resembled what it used to be and not a building site, occurred in winter 2020.

With its little red-lamp-shaded lights casting a warm glow through its restaurant windows, I was all for going in, but as we were short on time, and with my wife knowing from years of experience that once in a cosy licensed premises it would be difficult to get me out, we would have to wait until the early summer of 2021 before this avenue of pleasure could be properly explored.

The day that we had chosen to visit Svetlogorsk in mid-June was a hot one, and, unbeknown to us, it was a public holiday (there are many and they are hard to keep track of here!) Consequently, our train was packed, and when we got out I had never seen so many people in Svetlogorsk. It was, to use the vernacular, ‘rammed’.

We had planned to walk to the promenade and have lunch on one of the hotel or restaurant terraces overlooking the sea, but Svetlogorsk’s tourist invasion required evasive action. Almost at once and together we remembered the Hartmann Hotel and how stylish it had looked. It was old, had been restored and had an air of 1930s’ gentility; in other words, it was our sort of place. We would not be disappointed.

We could quite easily have been disappointed, however, since, whilst there were less people away from the front, the terrace at the Hartmann was not short of patrons. Fortunately for us, we had timed it right. On the way I had paused to take stock of my favourite Rauschen building, recently renovated to a high and attractive standard, and by doing so we arrived at the Hartmann just as a table came vacant.

The Hartmann, which is appealing enough in its own right, has added a touch of swish to pull the punters in. Last winter it had a 1930s’ style motor vehicle parked on the forecourt; now, it has a bright red and sparkling-chrome classic MG convertible.

In the era of Visual Blitz, induced and exploited by Facebook and other social media, who could resist having their photograph taken next to such a swanky automobile parked out front of such a tasteful hotel? Certainly not my wife. Olga, given her Facebook obsession, was predictably one of the least resisting, and several photographs had to be taken before I could get down to the serious business of sampling the beer.

The Hartman Hotel Svetlogorsk

Having struck lucky with our seats, our pride of place position gave us a good view of the hotel’s revived façade.

This was one of those marvellous, old German/Prussian buildings of inverted breakfront design, where flanking end sections project from the middle plane, thus recessing the central component. The orange-red brickwork that forms the window arches, cornerstones and lateral-running decoration are picked out pleasingly against the white painted background, perfectly in keeping with the architectural style of the late 19^th early 20^th century. The windows, are, of course, double-glazed units, but in order to conform as far as possible with the shape and impression of the more intricate design contemporary to the Hartmann era, they are predominantly curved in form, made up of sections separated by vertical and horizontal struts and with narrow vertical strips in the upper lights intended to resemble the more elaborate wooden frameworks of earlier periods. The rectangular casements in the upper storey are not a deviation. On the contrary, as the photograph of the hotel front taken in the Hartmann era shows, they replicate the original pattern, as does the long, central balcony and decorative half-timbered fretwork.

Hartman Hotel restored — The Hartman Hotel, Svetlogorsk, celebrates its past

The front door with its copper, curved awning and embossed/carved detail is, I imagine, a lot more elaborate than the original Hartmann entrance would have been, but whomsoever chose it deserves top marks for gilding the lily that is the most deserving.

Standing next to this door of doors, at least on the day that we were there, in addition to two potted shrubs, was a fully-fledged doorman in complete vintage doorman regalia, his burgundy sleeveless tunic, conforming tilt hat and twin rows of silver buttons harmonising splendidly with the MG’s polished red livery and dazzling chrome work.

Like many things, hotel observation can be thirsty work, and it was hooray when the beer arrived! As a vegetarian, and a simple food one at that, I do not feel that I am really qualified to comment on the quality of our meal, except to say that my salad was good enough. My wife settled for a good old honest portion of fish and chips but discovered that this was no ordinary plateful: traditional cod had been mixed with tasty salmon! For liquid refreshment Olga had a couple of glasses of wine, and I had two German beers. The tab came to about £20, which we thought was reasonable.

During our time at the Hartmann, the hotel staff were attentive and approachable and the service friendly and good. In fact, we were so taken with it all that although we live only a relatively short bus or train ride from the coast, we decided to take the plunge and book in for a night the following week, which would give us a chance to sample the hotel interior (and, naturally, more beers) and to take a few photos for the post I had planned.

Mick Hart & Olga Hart at Hartman Hotel — Mick Hart & Olga Hart at the Hartman Hotel

Our overnight stay at the Hartman Hotel, Svetlogorsk

Check in at the Hartmann Hotel is officially 2pm. We arrived early, but this was no problem as the helpful receptionist stowed our overnight bag behind a closed door in a luggage area opposite the lobby desk.

When we had inquired about the possibility of taking a room last week, we had been told that the hotel was fully booked. This encouraged us to take the one room that was vacant, which was a family room, which we would have taken anyway as the extra space and additional seating that this type of room provides is always welcome. For a family room we had to fork out £80, which is not as budget friendly as some hotels in the region, but we were not unhappy considering the standard and ambience.

Room number 23 opens out into one of the end extensions of the building. The large arched window combinations to the front and one at either side makes this a particularly light, airy and pleasant space. It contains a bed-settee, two open armchairs, coffee table and second, wider screen TV.

The room itself is sensitively decorated. Although a dark-wood Gothic man myself, I had no quarrel with the light and pastel colours in this particular setting. The room’s facilities are modern and equipped to a high standard ~ it even has its own iron and ironing board, which is an absolute necessity for keeping one’s cravat in tip-top shape!

To enable en suite conditions, the combined shower room and W.C. has to occupy quite a narrow space, but this has been achieved with zero inconvenience. Necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention, and I was, and still am, in awe, as to how they managed to design this room to maximise space and sacrifice nothing.

The room’s door-locking system is one that Willie Hartmann and his wife, not to mention his 1920s’ guests, would find novel and entertaining. It is one of those electronic touch-card jobs, the card also doubling as an electricity activation key once inside the room. Me to the porter, trying not to look as if I was a backdated key user: “How do you work this?” And then when he’d shown me: “Ah, I wondered if you knew!”

These little plastic cards are all well and good, but since they negate the need to physically shut the door, turn the handle and use a key, early rising guests tend to let the door go slam as they toddle off to breakfast, which is a bit disconcerting if you are still in bed biding your time with a hangover. Jim Reeves: ‘I hear the sound of not-so-distant drums!’ Not a criticism, but perhaps some calibrated door-closers?

The Hartmann Hotel’s dining room, located on the ground floor opposite reception, also doubles as a restaurant that admits non-residents. We were out on the town in the evening, so we did not become acquainted with it until breakfast the following morning, whereupon it received immediately the Egon Harty seal of approval.

Breakfast was not wanting in any respect. The choice of food on offer, which is included in the tariff, is wide and varied, and you help yourself to what you want and as much as you want (always a dangerous option when my brother is around; I’ve lost count of the number of restaurants and hotels that almost went out of business when he discovered the invitation ‘eat as much as you like’).

Another bonus was that since it was a warm, sunny morning, we were able to take our breakfast and dine a la carte on the hotel terrace.

The Hartmann Hotel’s website states that Willie Hartmann and his staff laid great store on providing not just excellent service but service with a smile. When you are working with the public (and remember, we know, because we once ran an antiques emporium), remaining cool, calm, collected ~ and, in the hospitality trade, most essentially cordial ~ takes a certain kind of person and a certain kind of skill. I must confess that I never did quite get the hang of this and ran our antiques emporium as if I was Basil Fawlty!

Fortunately, or by careful choice, today’s Hartmann management can boast that its team possesses all the qualities that Willie Hartmann would have expected from his team. Without exception, everyone with whom we came into contact was cheerful, good humoured and helpful. The Hartmann service could not be better!

When it wasn’t the Hartmann or Hartman

It had taken me a while to remember what the Hartmann had been when I first came to Svetlogorsk twenty-one years ago. And then, suddenly, it flashed into my mind, or rather a giant bear skin did!

As I recall, in the left front-extension of the building, there had been a small, two-roomed bar, access to which was only available by crossing a rubble-filled patch of waste ground, the present location of the Hartmann terrace, and then by going through a side door located where the side door is today.

This bar was as basic as basic; it sold tea, vodka and very little else and had a big, flat, sad-looking bear nailed to the wall. As far as I can remember, the rest of the building was in a fallen-on-hard-times state, possibly no longer used and desperately in need of the kind of tender loving care which, thankfully, come the second decade of the 21st century it eventually would be blessed with.

I would not imagine that any reference to Hartmann existed then, but today the name is proudly sign written above the front entrance and on the gable end of the building; the letter ‘H’ appears on all the Art Noveau stylised lamps; and there is an even an ‘H’ incorporated within the embossed panel on the front door.

Inside, the Hartmanns are acknowledged again, with pictorial representations of their faces heading up an acrylic wall board on which an illustrated map featuring the Hartmann hotel in relation to surrounding tourist sights, the coastline and the sea creates an attractive display.

And, in the small seating area that extends from the reception, stands a glass-topped coffee table containing assorted memorabilia from the time when Willie Hartmann and his wife, Greta, ran the hotel. These include monogrammed silver cutlery, an original monogrammed cup and saucer and other period items all resting on a lace tablecloth contemporaneous to the Hartmann’s tenure.

Relics from the Hartmann Hotel, Rauschen — Items from Hartmann’s original hotel include a restaurant menu

How impressed was I with the Hartmann Hotel?

See for yourself: I bought the place …

Essential details:

Hartmann Hotel, Svetlogorsk
Oktyabr’skaya Ulitsa, 1
Svetlogorsk
Kaliningrad Oblast, 238563

Tel: 8 (4012) 270-204 ~ Hotel Information
Tel: 8 (4012) 270-206 ~ Restaurant table reservations

Email: info@hartmanhotel.ru

Airport transfers
You can book a transfer from Khrabrov airport, and back if required, by telephoning the main reception desk: 8 (4012) 270-204
Regular transfer (minivan Hyundai H-1) – 2,000 rubles (approx. £19.90): one way
VIP transfer (Lexus LX570) – 3,500 rubles (approx. £34.84): one way

HARTMAN HOTEL WEBSITE: https://hartmanhotel.ru/

Our first visit to Svetlogorsk Winter 2000

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Zalivino Lighthouse Flashes Again after 36 years!

An illuminating experience by the Curonian Lagoon

Published: 11 June 2021 ~ Zalivino Lighthouse flashes again

The last time we visited Zalivino Lighthouse it was a blisteringly cold day in early January of this year. We were back again today (8 June 2021) in temperatures reaching 23 degrees, and with a refreshing breeze skimming across the surface of the lagoon, to witness the official inauguration of the lighthouse’s new lantern.

What a difference sun, blue skies and the thriving natural habitat along this beautiful stretch of the coastline makes, and what a difference five months of concerted conservation commitment and hard work has made to the restoration progress of Zalivino lighthouse.

On our last visit the keeper’s cottage and abutting building were nothing more than ruined shells. Then, we had a hard time trying to find something substantial to hide behind to shelter us from the bitter winds, but here were those same buildings, less than six months later, brickwork intact, windows and doors in situ and spanking brand new roofs in the latter stages of near completion.

You only have to compare the photographs that I took on our previous visit (see Support the Restoration of Zalivino Lighthouse) with the ones that I took today, to see how things have progressed. No wonder that the great and the good, the dignitaries, movers and shakers and representatives of Kaliningrad’s Ocean Museum were out in force today to congratulate each other. Who could say that they did not deserve it?

Zalivino Lighthouse flashes again after 36 years!

Local administration and World Ocean Museum representatives Kaliningrad region — **Zalivino Lighthouse flashes again! ~ official ceremony, 8 June 2021**

Zalivino Lighthouse
Zalivino Lighthouse is one of three lighthouses in the Kaliningrad region built before World War II.

For almost a century Zalivino lighthouse was an important navigation signal, enabling ships to plot their course safely across the Curonian Lagoon.

In Prussian times, Zalivino, as it is known today, comprised two settlements, Rinderort and Labagienen, renamed in 1938 as Haff-winkel. For centuries, fishermen would set off early in the morning from these shores to fish the surrounding waters, returning late in the evening. The sustained livelihood of the families that lived here depended on a good fishing yield and, of course, the safe return of the breadwinner.

The region’s first navigation system came into being in 1868. Standing next to a fisherman’s house in Rinderort, it consisted of a coal lamp with a lens fixed to a 12-metre wooden pole. Elevation was transacted with a manual lifting device, and although the light had obvious benefits it was only effective at short distance.

Zalivino lighthouse, as we know it today ~ the 15.3-metre cylindrical brick tower with lantern room, observation platform, copper cupola and stone spiral staircase ~ replaced the light on a pole in 1889. It, and the adjoining lightkeeper’s house, was built by W Jourlauke, whose name can still be seen stamped into the brickwork.

The lighthouse lantern had two sections, one red and the other white, with a range of 7 and 12 miles, respectively. One lighted the lagoon toward the Spit and the second one marked the entrance to the mouth of the Deyma River.

The lighthouse ceased operation in 1985. In 2020, the Volga-Balt administration transferred the lighthouse to the Museum of the World Ocean, under whose auspices it is now undergoing phased restoration in recognition of its unique maritime heritage status in both its East Prussian and Russian contexts.

Zalivino Lighthouse flashes again after 36 years!

A lighthouse without a light is about as useful as a pub with no beer, so it was a personal joy for us, and everyone else present, to see the lighthouse flashing again after 36 years of dormancy.

The Fresnel lens, a gift from commanders of the Baltic Fleet and officer-hydrographers, would not let us leave without we say hello to it, so we retraced the stone spiral staircase that we had climbed in January and clambered up the short metal ladder into the lighthouse’s lantern room, at last occupied by a fully functional lamp. And what a beauty she is!

Once acquainted, we pushed open the heavy metal door and side-stepped onto the narrow platform gallery. From here, we received a birds-eye view both of the restoration work to date and the inspiring coastal scenery, a view for the most part unchanged, as seen through the eyes of lighthouse keepers for close on a hundred years.

Looking down onto terra firma made my wife giddy, as it did me, albeit for other reasons. Seeing the new roof taking shape on top of the keeper’s cottage reminded me that a similar makeover was needed for our dacha!

New roofs Zalivino Lighthouse — **Zalivino lighthouse keeper’s cottage gets new roof**

Since our previous visit, other improvements in and around the lighthouse were also evident. They include new glazing to the observation deck, cleaning of the well, dredging of the coastal strip, planting and maintenance of an apple orchard and, for security purposes, the installation of perimeter fencing and video-surveillance cameras.

A gazebo, where visitors will be able to rest themselves, take in the historic and natural scenery and indulge in light refreshments, is also under construction. Today, this brick-built addition to the site of the Zalivino lighthouse chalked up another first to keep the new lantern company, prematurely fulfilling its role as a dispenser of food and beverages.

Unfortunately, the free fish soup was strictly off limits to me; one spoonful would have meant revoking my membership of the newly incorporated Zalivino Vegetarian Society ~ a strange thing indeed for a place like this, whose fortunes historically are inextricably tied to manly men in oilskins, their boats, nets, fish and, one might hazard a guess, fish soup in abundance. This reminds me, when you visit Zalivino Lighthouse do make time to call in on the Zalivino village museum, an admirable establishment devoted to the history of the settlements in this region and the marine heritage on which their survival depended (more of which I hope to post later).

Further information about Zalivino Lighthouse, including fundraising activities, accessibility and so on can be found at the end of my previous post, Support the Restoration of Zalivino Lighthouse.

Репетитор английского языка в Калининграде

The Natural Beauty of the Baltic Coast Kaliningrad

We will find them off the beaches

Published: 20 May 2021 ~ The Natural Beauty of the Baltic Coast Kaliningrad

The Kaliningrad region has two main coastal resorts, Zelinogradsk and Svetlogorsk. When I first came to this part of the world twenty years ago, both were quiet, sleepy and remote, rundown by the destabilising repercussions of perestroika but no less charming and appealing in the history of themselves and the beauty of their location.

Fast forward to the coronavirus summer of 2020, and we open the TARDIS doors onto two highly developed and equally commercialised venues teaming with people, not only bonafide Kaliningradians but Russia’s World and its Wife.

Closed borders, bans on international air travel and a finely tuned and successful alternative ‘holiday at home’ programme have seen tourism rocket, the word on the street being that virtually every hotel in and around the two main coastal resorts and in Kaliningrad itself are pre-booked for the summer season. Last year, a friend of ours who has a dacha in Zelenogradsk that she rents out during the summer season was able to grant us a couple of weeks free accommodation, which we were pleased to accept. This year, her dacha is fully booked. We will have to sleep on the beach.

The natural beauty of the Baltic Coast, Kaliningrad

Kaliningrad Oblast, the Kaliningrad region, is a relatively small piece of land. In fact, locals refer to it as ‘small Russia’ as distinct from the Russian mainland, which is ‘Big Russia’. Although transport facilities have greatly improved, with good rail connections and upgraded rolling stock together with a spanking new road system of motorway standard, the sheer volume of people that flood here in the summer months and the increasing number of people moving here from Big Russia or, as a friend of ours put it, people with deep wallets who can afford to buy holiday homes, can, when the sun comes out, create if not a logistics nightmare at least a logistics headache.

For beach bums this is a bit of a bummer. The last thing that young, toned bodies eager to exhibit themselves on the best stretches of sandy beach want is to be stuck where they cannot be seen, all hot and sweaty, in a three-mile traffic tailback. What about my new tattoos or my little skimpy bikini! It is at times like these that Kaliningrad ‘O Blast’ really lives up to its name!

But take heart! All is not lost! For those of us who appreciate natural beauty, free from the face- and buttock-lifting Botox of commercialisation, the Kaliningrad region possesses many unique off-the-beaten-track locations that have not yet entered the telescopic sites of the cash-quick entrepreneur.

What these secluded coastal places do not have in terms of grand hotels and expensive restaurants, they more than make up for in timeless quality, and whilst they may be lacking in sandy beaches and ever-rolling waves they are also lacking in hordes of people. In other words, such places are the preferred habitat for the solace-seeking discerning coastal visitor, a haven for the sleepy backwater type who values the natural world above artifice and seclusion above high-density beach bathers.

The Natural Beauty of the Baltic Coast Kaliningrad

It may take a little more effort to find where you are going to than it does when you go to the coastal resorts, but once you have arrived there you will be glad you made the trip.

True outdoor types will marvel at the idyll of small inlets shaped and shuttered by wetland reed beds that form a pie-crust pattern of coves along a rambling scenic coastline unmolested by change, a coastline replete with all kinds of waterfowl, a fascinating ecosystem offering beautiful views across the lagoon including inspiring sunrises and magnificent sunsets.

This chain of small coves is so tucked away from the modern world that as you sit there on one of the water-worn breakers gazing out to sea, Gates, Shutterbugger, indeed the entire Silicon Valley mob, seem as distant and insignificant as second-rate villains in a Marvel Comic (just don’t forget to switch off your mobile phone!).

Baltic Coast Zalivino — The Natural Beauty of the Baltic Coast Kaliningrad

Here, the only connection that you need are those that connect you with the real world ~ your natural senses. Tune your mind to these and sentience just takes over.

The large boulder that you are sitting on could be one of a group, one of an arched construction that follows the shape of the cove, or an early rock in the long parade that stretches out into the bay. It is a good place on which to perch and contemplate, if it wasn’t, then why would those sea birds mimic you?

**Mick Hart & Olga Hart, Baltic Coast (May 2021)**

In some places the coves are beaches in miniature, wide enough to lay a blanket and to bed down on for an afternoon’s duration; in others, they are a natural composition of millions of small shells and tubular reed fragments.

Closer to civilisation, extensive gardens of old German and Soviet houses nestle just a few yards away from the waterline, whilst gnarled, split and hollowed out old crack willow trees, which generations of children, before PlayStation came along, made rudimentary playgrounds out of, still support swings and climbing ropes from their strong, low-lying, outstretched branches.

**Mick Hart & Olga Hart, Baltic Coast, Russia (May 2021)**

Away from the villages, nature takes over completely: on one side, the relatively still water surface shimmers on the lagoon, on the other, tall encompassing reeds, wetland meadows or dense woodland complement the sequestered scene.

The Kaliningrad region has two main coastal resorts, Zelinogradsk and Svetlogorsk. They are well publicised, and rightly so, as much for their beautiful sandy beaches and tantalising seascapes as for their history and their architecture. But the Kaliningrad region also has an evocative natural coastline, an ecological treasure trove that is as near and dear to the heart as it is far from the madding crowd. It is a many jewelled retreat in this extraordinary region’s crown; not somewhere where you go to, but somewhere where you go to be.

See 1930s Buick at Fort XI Kaliningrad

Running boards ~ and the rest!

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 20^th 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

Mick Hart & Olga Hart with 1930s Buick Kaliningrad

*****************************

Essential details:

Fort XI Dönhoff
Ulitsa Energetikov
Kaliningrad
Kaliningrad Oblast 236034

Tel: +7 4012 39 04 61
Web: https://fortDönhoff.ru/en/

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

Fort XI Website: https://fortDönhoff.ru/en/

For more background information on Fort Dönhoff, see my earlier post: https://expatkaliningrad.com/fort-donhoff-kaliningrad/

Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad

A Trip to Fort Dönhoff

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 19^th century Königsberg, or Königsberg World War II, but atmosphere-wise you are very much back in the Cold War era.

Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad — 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.

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.

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.

Meeting table at Fort Dönhoff Kaliningrad — 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 19^th century to the end of WWII would have had on a daily basis.

Long passageway: Fort Dönhoff Kaliningrad — 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: Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad — 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.

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 fort plan: Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad — 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.

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.

Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad: cafeteria — 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.

Refreshments in Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad, 2020 — 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.

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 emplacements: Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad — 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!

Napalm tunnel ~ Fort Dönhoff Kaliningrad — 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.

Ammunition hatchways in Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad — 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.

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.

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!’.

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!

Fort XI Dönhoff Kaliningrad — 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 NBoard, Fort Dönhoff, Kaliningrad — 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

Tel: +7 4012 39 04 61
Web: https://fortDönhoff.ru/en/

Fort XI Website: https://fortDönhoff.ru/en/

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A rural recreation centre on the site of an old East Prussian settlement

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Angel Park Hotel Function Room

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Angel Park

Essential details:

No other pick-me-up necessary

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A Gothic favourite of Svetlogorsk revisited

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The Hartman Hotel Svetlogorsk

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Zalivino Lighthouse flashes again after 36 years!

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Running boards ~ and the rest!

See 1930s Buick at Fort XI Kaliningrad

1930s Buick at Fort XI

Essential details:

For more background information on Fort Dönhoff, see my earlier post: https://expatkaliningrad.com/fort-donhoff-kaliningrad/

A Trip to Fort Dönhoff

Where’s James Bond when you need him?

Rare bits and rabbits

Fort Dönhoff Caféteria

Aren’t your toilets wonderful!

Fort XI, Dönhoff, in World War II

Machine-gun post

I’ve never seen one as big as this before!

Essential details:

For more background information on Fort Dönhoff, see my later post: https://expatkaliningrad.com/fort-xi-kaliningrad-hosts-retro-car-club-day/

For more background information on Fort Dönhoff, see my later post:
https://expatkaliningrad.com/fort-xi-kaliningrad-hosts-retro-car-club-day/