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Svetlogorsk Promenade a New Chapter in its History

Promenade Apartments Svetlogorsk Showcase Stylish Living

30 May 2024 ~ Svetlogorsk Promenade a New Chapter in its History

At the point at which the new stretch of promenade on Svetlogorsk’s coastline meets the old, a broad canvas containing an evocative black and white photograph of the promenade as it appeared when Svetlogorsk was German Rauschen effectively softens the large metal fence behind which work is ongoing to upgrade the original walkway.

The photograph, which was taken in the early twentieth century at a time which we in England would call Edwardian, harks back to a quieter, more sedate and less populated period in the evolution of the modern world and in Svetlogorsk’s personal history. In those days, people dressed better (that is, those who could afford to do so), and life, at least in the pictures, had a better feel about it and seemed to move at a far more leisurely pace.

‘Oh! I do like to be beside the seaside!
I do like to be beside the sea!
Oh I do like to stroll along the Prom, Prom, Prom!’ ~ John H. Glover-Kind (1907)

Fast forward to the third decade of the 21^st century:

Walking along the ‘Prom, Prom’ ~ as there are (or nearly are) two in Svetlogorsk ~ has not been the easiest thing to do in the Kaliningrad region’s coastal town for quite some considerable time.

First, there was the Sovietised prom left behind by the Germans; then there was a quiet, narrow stretch of beach left behind by perestroika; then there was the construction of a new promenade; then the promised construction of a sparkling, spanking new set of des-res apartments hugging the new prom coastline; and then … and then it stalled.

When the first stage of the new promenade reached accessibility, those of us who had not grown impatient and swapped allegiance for Zelenogradsk, strolled along the ‘prom, prom, prom’; some of us marvelling at what was to come and some, no doubt, bemoaning the loss of the rocky ribbon of beach, with its golden memories of long hot days, the basking bodies of former girlfriends, the odd kapoosta pie or two and a couple of tins of lager.

At this juncture in Svetlogorsk’s transformation from sleepy spa retreat to resort boutique, the old legacy prom with its cafes, restaurants, outside bars and amber-selling stalls was still firm favourite.

Then, possibly a couple of years ago (the memory grows dim), one evening, when the sea was particularly tantrum prone, a section of the old prom surrendered to its attitude problem and promptly fell apart, as old proms and seaside piers have the disturbing habit of doing.

The missing piece was soon replaced, but shortly afterwards came the announcement that the old prom would temporarily close for a period of refurbishment. And that is the way it has been for a proverbial month of Sundays and considerably more than a month of sunny summer days.

Behind the ubiquitous blue and white building-site fences, obscuring both prom and the sea, an extensive restructuring programme to defend the platform from the sea’s worst excesses labours on relentlessly, incorporating a face lift which, when it is finished, I should imagine, aims to bring the old prom cosmetically into line with its glossy, upmarket protégé.

The simultaneous reconfiguration of both of Svetlogorsk’s proms led to the loss of the beach from one end of its coastline to the other. The collateral damage was marked by a substantial tourist exodus from Svetlogorsk to Zelenogradsk, the Kaliningrad regions second resort, and indeed to the other resorts that share the Baltic coastline. Fortunately ~ for Svetlogorsk that is ~ stunning sea views from the uppermost reaches of the coastline’s steep embankment and a seamless stream of investment into the town’s inland facilities and its tourist attractions cushioned the brunt of the blow. And some of us kept coming back just to see how things were progressing. I was one of those someones.

Svetlogorsk Promenade a new chapter in its history

I returned to Svetlogorsk earlier this May, approaching the seafront via the Central Staircase, the great parade of steps that since 1974 has led to the giant sundial. The steps still go where they have always gone, but the sundial, including its brilliant tessera mosaic based on the signs of the zodiac, appears to have been uprooted.

Above: Svetlogorsk Sundial in June 2021
Below: The same location as it is today, photographed from the Central Staircase

Where the sundial used to be in Svetlogorsk

In a less exuberant period, before Svetlogorsk was ‘discovered’, when a ‘permit’ was needed to enter the town by car, as it was then considered a health resort in which the ozone air was sacrosanct, the sun dial, designed by Nicholas Frolov, was counted along with the water tower as one of the town’s star attractions.

On an evening in the year 2000 ~ it was the month of December and blisteringly cold ~ I took hold of the sundial gnomon, the upright blade that casts the shadow. “I shouldn’t have done that,” I thought. “My hand is freezing to it!” And then I thought, “I am actually here. I am actually here in Russia!” That moment was quite symbolic; quite a personal moment. Let’s hope they put the sundial back. They ought to, don’t you think? If only just for me.

Svetlogorsk Promenade a new chapter in its history

As it is no longer possible to access the old promenade due to its debasement as a construction site, a temporary boardwalk filters pedestrians onto the new promenade (Novyy Promenade), where ~ lo and behold! ~ after what seems like a brief eternity, or the torturous interval we had once to endure between the opening times of English pubs, the foundations for a three-phase series of swanky new apartments are finally metamorphosising into the shape of things to come.

You can see what this stretch of coastline looked like in the earlier stages of the apartments’ construction by clicking on the following links:

> Svetlogorsk, a tale of two lifts
> Svetlogorsk promenade ~ perchance to dream
> Whenever I need a lift, I go to Svetlogorsk

This is the closet that I have been to a high-rise building site in years, and it must be said, for want of a better reason, such as getting onto the beach, it is worth toddling off to Svetlogorsk to see exactly how they do it, build buildings that high, I mean, and by becoming a casual observer catch history in the making.

Svetlogorsk Promenade artists impression

Before gawping skywards, it is interesting to study first the full-colour canvas banners strapped to the baseline hoarding, each containing artist’s impression of how the built coastline will look when the job is completed. Then, when you have matched the buildings in the illustrations to their skeletal incarnations, marvel at the blokes aloft, hauling heavy and awkward building materials from one man to another up different levels of scaffolding and the audacity of those above them, who, defying the laws of gravity, precariously perch on slim steel girders, working away with hammer or drill some seventy feet above your head. It’s enough to remind you of what you could do, although you never would.

Looking upwards is sufficiently vertiginous without the encumbrance of climbing ladders. Best to look to the sea. It does not hurt your neck, and it can be therapeutic.

Above and beyond the promenade wall, which is hefty, tall and chunky, the sea is visibly seeable, but not without a distracting impediment. Someone, when no one was looking, appears to have gone and dumped thousands of tons of granite boulders over the seaward side of the wall, completely overriding what little was left of the beach.

I was asked, as if I was the prime suspect, whether these outsized chunks of stone would remain in their present location or be used to bolster the groynes (yes, I’ve spelt it right!), the heavy pole-shaped wave-breakers that march regimentally in parallel lines from Svetlogorsk’s shore out into its sea.

I knew the answer, of course, but I wasn’t about to let on. It could be that I was busy contemplating what it would be like to own and to live in a luxury apartment overlooking the Baltic Coast.

The sunsets along the Baltic Coast rank among the most spectacular anywhere in the world. Imagine sitting in your des-res flat. Would you ever tire of the spellbinding view? It’s doubtful.

Quotes from the appartment developers’ website
“Promenade Life Health Resort
A long-awaited project in which you can live, take care of your health,
raise children, create and be proud of your heritage”

“PROMENADE is a hotel and health complex with more than 220 turnkey apartments with extensive infrastructure and a high level of service. It is located in a unique location – on the first line of the Svetlogorsk seaside – and occupies almost one and a half kilometers of coastal territory.”

“The Baltic coast is one of the most amazing and beautiful places on Earth. Both romantics and pragmatists will find refuge here. The first will be inspired by amazing seascapes, the second by the undoubted convenience of geography (the Baltic coast connects 9 countries). A place of power is a place where you can relax and conduct business in comfort.”

At present, the new promenade is serviced by one bar and one restaurant only, both integral features of the embankment lift. But when the residential complex is complete, apart from and in addition to the plush apartment interiors, nature in all its natural glory and everything else that Svetlogorsk has to offer ~ eclectic bars and restaurants, good shopping facilities, tranquil woodland walks, engaging cultural and social history, convenient road and rail links both to Kaliningrad and the region’s airport ~ those lucky promenade dwellers will have right upon their doorstep the use of a pump room, spa and clinic all wrapped up in a breathtaking view inside a great location.

You can find more about this desirable lifestyle by clicking the link to the developers’ website here > https://promenad-park.ru/

In the meantime, I will bide my time in the sure and certain knowledge that any day now I will hear the sound of keys dropping into my post box, heralding the arrival of a personal invitation to take complementary possession of a deluxe apartment on Svetlogorsk’s prom.

You have to admit, it’s nice of them. My thank-you note is already written.

Svetlogorsk Promenade Posts
Svetlogorsk, a tale of two lifts
Svetlogorsk promenade ~ perchance to dream
Whenever I need a lift, I go to Svetlogorsk

Whenever I need a lift, I go to Svetlogorsk

A summer’s day on Svetlogorsk prom (where there is a lift)

Published: 25 August 2022 ~ Whenever I need a lift, I go to Svetlogorsk

Look! Is that really me sitting outside a café bar in Svetlogorsk gazing out across the sea! I wouldn’t want you to get the erroneous impression that I have a peculiar Freudian obsession with lift shafts, but here I am back in Svetlogorsk again checking up on what has happened or not, as the case may be, along the prom extension of the Svetlogorsk coastline, at the base of Novyy Promenad lift. Perhaps I am just sitting there for the convenience of the location, enjoying respite and inertia and the pleasure of drinking beer. Will we ever know? And will the world stop turning if we don’t?

Previous Svletlogorsk lift-obsession posts
Svetlogorsk, a tale of two lifts
Svetlogorsk promenade ~ perchance to dream

Approaching the lift on the uplands, we walked through the landscaped grounds of Yantar Hall, described by tour guides as a ‘modern multifunctional cultural centre’, a place where bold futuristic design meets pretty silver-birch woodland. What a juxtaposition! I cannot recall what was here two decades ago when I first came to Svetlogorsk. “Bugger all!” my brother cries. For once, he could be right. But we won’t split hairs about it, if only because as one gets older one tends to becomes more follically challenged. However, we will politely venture that a percentage of the ground requisitioned for this ambitious development consisted of hard-surfaced tennis courts and more of the woodland that surrounds it today. Should I be wrong, excuse me. (I know you often do …)

On a warm summer’s day, although the streets of Svetlogorsk are not exactly teaming with people, give or take several score more than there was twenty years ago, charting one’s course to the lift via the grounds of Yantar Hall is to court serenity. You mind knows and so does your soul that you are walking in step with nature, heading towards the sea.

It does not take long, in fact a surprisingly short duration, for new buildings to make their peace with Nature. Already, the headland entrance to the lift has begun the process of blending, or perhaps for the sake of accuracy we should say that the environment into which it intruded no longer baulks at its presence

The plate glass wall that perimeterises the outdoor viewing area and stops you from travelling down to the prom without the aid of the lift, could make you feel a little queer if heights are not your thing, but if you are feeling queer and heights don’t bother you, don’t fret, the only thing you need worry about is that there is something wrong with your gender. Viewed from a different perspective, from the crest of the bank to the ground below and out across the sea, it is the perfect place for people, who have forgotten to bring a cameraman with them, to take those all-important filtered selfies to post on social media. A picture is worth a thousand words, make no mistake about that, possibly more if you care to count them.

View from top of Svetlogorsk lift. Go to Svetlogorsk to witness it!

The view from the gallery inside the building, looking down on the construction site that hugs the coastline below, revealed within visible limits no dramatic alterations since my last reconnaissance. That luxurious premier apartment overlooking the sea has yet to box the space that it has been allocated, but I am sure that it is out there somewhere, somewhere in the future, complete and enviably occupied.

For the time being, however, I would have to be content with commenting on such changes that had occurred, and which could be seen and appreciated once we reached ground level.

Whenever I need a lift, I go to Svetlogorsk

The first appreciable development was the opening of a café bar at the front of the lift’s terminus, facing the prom and the sea. It did not take long to leave me here to enjoy a beer, or two, whilst my fully aquatic wife flirted with the Baltic.

The small forecourt at the front of the café is demarcated inside a rectangle of black metal planters, which would ‘good looks’ (as my wife used to say, until I put her right) as screening for a home patio. Craning over the top of the planters, I was able to observe that the adjoining area containing the retro fast-food vans, which had acquired two more in my absence and was beginning to look like a diner-vans’ colony, was also territorially enclosed with planters, but ones that resembled tubs on wheels. Their portability opened up all sorts of possibilities for mobile garden planning (see, my time as an editor on Successful Gardening was not entirely wasted), failing which they could be exploited as excellent roving ice buckets, eminently suitable for large-scale soirées or adventurous garden parties. They would also make good kiddie buggies into which to throw your children and tank around the lawn or, exclusively for my wife, a customised nomadic swimming pool. I could take one of these buckets on wheels, roll it under the apple tree, fill it full of water and my wife could go and sit in it. And I, of course, could take photos of her that she could then post to VK.

Retro diner vans Svetlogorsk Kaliningrad

When my water-winged wife got out of the sea, any chance that I may have had to impress her with my notions were lost to a flurry of praise of how wonderful it was to swim and commune with ‘beautiful nature’. Now she was imploring me to take photographs of the ‘amazing’ sunset. Cuh!

Keeping my plans for the planters secret, I finished my second pint and fortified in stereo walked over to the sea wall not to take photos of sunsets but of the lift and its immediate surroundings from the perspective of the front elevation. Hmm, perhaps I do have a lift shaft fetish? But that is by the by. If I had not pursued my inclinations, I would not have been any the wiser that above the café where I had been sitting a restaurant had been installed. By no means the largest restaurant that the world has ever known, it does have long, broad windows through which you can gaze at the briny.

Go to Svetlogorsk to see lifts passing in Svetlogorsk shaft

Eventually, I did take that picture of the sunset over the Baltic Sea and in doing so discovered an excellent example of utilitarianism that either had not been where it is now when I last leant on the wall or if it was, I had not been paying attention. Every three or four feet or more flat surfaced wooden rectangles, approximately one foot in width and two feet in length (I am an ardent supporter of the old imperial system ~ it really does make life just that little bit less simple) had been bolted along the top of the wall, creating, in effect, handy little table tops on which to stand your sundries. A man standing next to me placed his can of beer on one. What a good idea!

Go to svetlogorsk for wall table tops and a prom with sunset

How well these table tops will hold up when the summer weather turns dramatically to winter is a point I wished you had not raised. Perhaps they are detachable? No matter, I am so taken with the concept of them that should they float or fly away I will return with one of my own.

Making off in the direction of the older promenade, where one would have been when Svetlogorsk was Rauschen, nothing leapt out at me like a mugger in Brixton to alert me to something that I may not have seen already. But when we reached the giant sun dial, the starting point of the old prom, sheets of corrugated tin barring further access reminded me of an article that I had read in the local news about future reconstruction work to the resort’s historic esplanade. That future was obviously now.

Not meaning to imply by the word ‘historic’ that the in-situ esplanade is the one that Germans once strolled along, most likely not even the foundations on which it stands is of German origin, nevertheless its Soviet heritage must retain nostalgic value for others not just me, but me included since I have sauntered along it many times over the past 20 years.

Promenade Svetlogorsk undergoing reconstruction 2022

Following the diversionary tactics of other pedestrians, we ended up on a hard-surfaced path hidden inside the bushes, running parallel to the promenade, that I had forgotten had ever existed, and it was from this path and the bushes lining it that I was able to take a photo of the old prom (see above) looking rather sad and forlorn in its decommissioned condition. Whether the whole kaboodle is to be replaced or the framework preserved and a new plateau raised above and around the existing structure, your guess is as good as mine. But lured by my illicit love ~ my affair with Svetlogosrk lift shaft ~ I am bound to find out sooner or later. When I do, I’ll let you know.

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.