12 October 2023 ~ Kaliningrad Toilet Door is a thing of Beauty
Has it ever crossed your mind that one day you might be famous and, if so, in what capacity? Many dream of fame when they are young at a time when the reason is unimportant. This is one of youth’s luxuries: the dream of fame for fame itself.
But fame can strike at any time, when you least expect it, in the most unexpected way and for the most unexpected reasons. Take me [Frank Zappa: “Take me, I’m yours …”], for example, how could I have possibly predicted twenty years ago, when I was 14🙂, that fate would have me knock on the door of fame, or would have had me knock on the door of fame had there been a door to knock on.
When I was young, I staked my claim to fame, or so I would have them believe, on the publication of my first toilet wall. What an imagination! Yet even I, as fanciful as I was, could never have envisioned that it was not a wall but a toilet door that one day would consign me to the annals of posterity.
I can hear you asking, although you are rather faint, how such an extraordinary set of circumstances ever came to be and, considering its phenomenal nature, have I thought of contacting TheGuinness Book of Records? Answer, in reverse order, I shall wait for them to contact me, but, whilst we wait in suspense together, the very least I can do is let you in on the noble act to which my fame is owed.
Kaliningrad Toilet Door
Not so long ago, the president of the Kaliningrad Auto Retro Club acquired a property which the club could use as a base for its activities and as a classic car museum. An historically interesting building, which, in the days of German Königsberg, had been used as an aircraft parts repository for Hermann Göring’s Luftwaffe, it was otherwise perfect in every sense for what the club required, except in one respect ~ an important one, I thought. For this public venue where people would meet, attend lectures, be taken on tours and, if they so desired, could hire for private parties was lacking in one essential ~ it had no toilet door!
It is monumentally inconceivable that during the Third Reich’s reign the bog in the Luftwaffe building would have been doorless. I have it from a reliable source, a man who’s devoted his life to toilets ~ he majored in them at Cambridge ~ that, to quote his words verbatim, “They made very good doors those Germans did, and very good toilet doors!” We are left to conclude, therefore, that in the days when defeat was imminent, as well as destroying their vital papers, either the Germans destroyed the toilet door or hid it where no one could find it. We cannot put it past them. It is a typical Gerry trick, I’d say; the sort of thing they went round doing just to be awkward and spiteful.
However, to give credit where credit is due, the fact that the door was missing had not escaped the notice of the club. And it was patently clear to everyone that something had to be done about it, not the absence of German decorum but the absent toilet door. Then came the question, what exactly?
In the Club
As with all complex organisations presided over by reams of committees, reliant on detailed reports from antithetical think tanks and subject to the dislocation of interdepartmental interests, the Kaliningrad Auto Retro Club faced a difficult dilemma. The knock-on effect, or no knock-on effect, as there was nothing to rap one’s knuckles on, of having no door to your toilet became one of those gritty [spelling correct] seemingly endless issues, destined to be shuffled about from one desk to another, until at last worn down and out by the suspenseful acrobatics of over-careful toilet timing, it fell on me, to coin a phrase, to roll out an initiative. “Why don’t I buy a door,” I said, “and have someone fill the hole with it!” The motion was passed unanimously.
Job done, you think. I can tell you that it wasn’t. Where would we find that fix-it person now Jim was no longer with us. He fixed a lot of things did Jim, including over-generous posthumous payouts for a herd of out-of-the-woodwork women now minted in their retirement years.
When, at last, we did find someone ~ and, of course, at last we did ~ it felt like every toilet trouble wherever it was in the world was nought but a poof in the wind. The handyman he fitted the door quicker than Brand got fitted up ~ he certainly knew his angles from his elbows ~ and before you could say ‘engaged’ or ‘vacant’ or ‘here’s another perfect example of a bum-wrap by the leftist state’, the club was no longer one door short of a toilet.
Some of you may feel that the saga of our toilet door was all a storm in a Portacabin, whilst the rather less polite amongst you might think it a load of c..p! And I am willing to concede that some of the visitors to the club may miss the thrill of sitting there whilst a friend or colleague stands guard for them, but I have to say from my point of view, it all looked rather cheeky. Bringing a bottle to an event is something not unheard of, but come on, really, deary, deary me, bring your own toilet door!
As the intelligence of my philanthropy leaked out far and wide, eventually reaching St Petersburg, my friend and colleague, Yury Grosmani, writer, author, journalist and latterly film producer, flushed with excitement at the news, immediately reached for his keyboard and wrote this moving tribute to me, which he posted on VK:
Вообще, музей без туалета, а равно как и музей с туалетом, но без двери, заведение абсолютно бесперспективное. Очень приятно, что известный журналист, писатель, а теперь мы уже знаем, что и киноактер, Мик Харт, выступил спонсором такого важного, нужного и благородного дела. Теперь музей АвтоРетроКлуба имеет на одно преимущество больше, чем самые известеые музеи мира. Например, на дверях туалета Британского музея такой таблички нет. Лично подтверждаю! А у нас она есть! Передаю слова огромной благодарности моему другу и коллеге МИКУ ХАРТУ 🇬🇧🇷🇺👍
And now in English:
“ [computer translation] In general, a museum without a toilet, as well as a museum with a toilet, but without a door, is an absolutely hopeless establishment. I am very pleased that the famous journalist, writer, and now we already know that film actor, Mick Hart, sponsored for such an important, necessary and noble cause. Now the AutoRetroClub Museum has one more advantage compared to the most famous museums in the world. For example, there is no such sign on the toilet doors of the British Museum. I personally confirm! And we do have it! I convey my deep gratitude to my friend and colleague MICK HART 🇬🇧🇷🇺👍
Whether I fully deserve this accolade, I will leave that up to you decide. As for the British Museum’s pitifully Mick Hart plaqueless status, there may be some truth in this; I can neither confirm nor deny. But should that august establishment ever find itself taken short by the urgent need to have one, then I’m the man for their big job.
For my own part, now that the door is up and the paperwork is done, I am happy to rest on my laurels, content in the certain knowledge that although my simple toilet door has not converted this lowly loo into anything close to a cistern chapel, it fulfils the function, as nature intended, to stop the things that shouldn’t come out from coming out of the closet. Small things in life, perhaps, but if by my private motion I have achieved some good in the public realm and in the process of doing so prevented the club’s reputation from hitting the skids big time and going down the pan, then per angusta ad augusta. It is just something we often say (as well as going ‘ahhh’) in the world of toilet-door sponsorship!
Note: The door sponsored by Mick Hart is available for viewing, and not least using, at the Kaliningrad Auto Retro Club Museum. To avoid disappointment, advanced booking is advisable.
I don’t want to boast, but we came second and were a whisker away from first!
Published: 31 May 2021
We had just left a bumpy, pot-holed back road and re-joined the main highway. Our driver throttled back. “In a modern car such bends are OK,” he said, “but in this car, which is tall, it could be dangerous, yes, dangerous. It is a tall car, you see, and could easily …”
He paused as we took the sharp bend.
“… easily turn over.”
The car in question was a 1956 GAZ-M20 Pobeda. It had column gears, a front bench seat, split (two-part) windscreen, wood-effect trims, a large working clock, indicator button at the top centre of the dash, small side vent windows on the front passenger doors, and sun-filtering fold-down eye-shields. It had an owner-driver called Yury Grozmani and also inside of it myself and my wife, Olga.
Yury Grozmani, Olga Hart & Mick Hart at the start of the Auto Retro Club Kaliningrad vintage car rally, 29 May 2021
The reason we were in it, sailing along, watching the clock studiously and glued to a sheath of navigation charts was that we were taking part in the Auto Retro Club Kaliningrad’s first regional vintage car rally.
Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021
We had rolled off the start line, an elevated vehicle platform, at precisely 13.21. The carefully estimated time of our journey from start to finish was one hour ten minutes, no more, no less, from the front of Königsberg Cathedral to Gvardeysk. The rally was timed, literally, to the very second. There were two checkpoints on the way and arrival at these checkpoints must coincide exactly with the designated ETA. If you were running behind time, you had to put your foot down; if you were ahead of yourself, you needed to take your foot off the gas and dawdle.
Yury was driving, I was the navigator and Olga became the impromptu time co-pilot, confirming joint readings of the time we were making each step of the way from her mobile phone.
For anyone who has even an elementary understanding and command of map reading, navigating would have been a doddle, and even I, who had neither of these propensities, had no difficulty in making the connection between the bold, line-drawn symbols in boxes and the landmarks and directions that they represented.
The navigation charts had been planned with simplicity in mind so that any fool could use them. Each page contained a three-column grid dissected horizontally at regular intervals. The first column provided an estimate of the time it should take from the start line to reach a certain navigation point, the second column a simple but clear illustration of the turning or lane to take and the third column any additional information that may be useful, ie name on signpost.
I soon got the hang of this as any fool would; shame it was not the same when it came to timing. Neither Olga nor I have any maths’ trophies, not even booby prizes, and from first shout we were all out of kilter with the timing requirement. The ETA at the first checkpoint was 31 minutes, and we were having difficulty calculating where that put us on the clock. After showing ourselves up, Yury stepped in, and we both agreed that he was right, even if we did not really know if he was or not.
Olga Hart, Mick Hart & Yury Grozmani in Yury’s 1956 Soviet Pobeda ~ Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021
Traffic was not particularly heavy in Kaliningrad today. We had a few anxious moments as we turned off one main road onto another, particularly in the vicinity of Kaliningrad’s World Cup football stadium, but once out onto the open road, the Pobeda sailed along like the class car that it was meant to be.
We checked our time and found that despite a relatively hunky-dory take-off, we were several minutes behind schedule. Yury put his foot down. We checked our time a few minutes later and found that whilst we were going faster, time was overtaking us. And then came the back road leading to the first checkpoint.
The Pobeda rolled off the production line in 1946 and underwent a series of improvements over the next three years. Among the improved, 1949 Pobeda’s selling points was its ‘suspension for all terrains’, and on this stretch of road Yury put it to the test. The 64-year-old car took it in its stride, the suspension and spongey bench seats proving more than a match for the bounce algorithm, allowing us to enjoy a particularly attractive recluse of land, steeped in hills, hollows, lakes and old German rustic buildings
Suddenly, the first checkpoint loomed into sight. Guess what? We were 60 seconds ahead of schedule! Yury remained unphased; with the tempo of a seasoned Foxtrotter he eased the throttle back and landed us right on the button.
Checked in at the checkpoint, off we went again.
Another argument ensued as to how long we had before we were scheduled to arrive at the next checkpoint. Something was wrong somewhere. But I refuse to say who it was who was more wrong than anybody else! It transpired that there was a meagre seven minutes between the first and second checkpoints, which was a little mean as it gave us no time to relax.
We thought we were behind time, when in fact we were in front.
Just ahead of us were the two Volgas that had left Königsberg before us. They had both turned off the road, presumably because they, too, were ahead of schedule but, on seeing us, pulled out in front.
The second checkpoint required driving into a yard, marking one’s card and then driving out again. The car in front took a wide turn and Yury swooped in, cutting it up at the checkpoint. I am sure it was taken in good part, even though a lot of hooter-blaring ensued.
We roared off again, with about 25 minutes to go to reach the finishing line in Gvardeysk.
Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021
Gvardeysk is a small town with a large public square, making it perfect for events of the kind taking place today. We were last here with my younger brother in summer 2019, again with the Auto Retro Club, but on this occasion for the international Golden Shadow of Königsberg festival.
Olga and I like this town. It is well laid out, has a balanced proportion of German and Soviet ancestry, some fine old Gothic buildings, museums, a specialist cheese shop par excellence and an interesting walk along the side of the river.
Today, we had literally lost no time in getting here and had to fall back to lose a few minutes before rolling up on the town square to the razzmatazz of cheering crowds, music and more cameras than Kodak.
As soon as we arrived, a young lady presented Olga and I with a present. It was a large, and I mean large, disc-shaped apricot jam cake, freshly baked and still warm from the oven. Such kind gestures do not go unnoticed.
Yury Grozmani & Mick Hart with a large cake in Gvardeysk ~ Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021
This is the age of the smartphone, Facebook and the image blitzkrieg, and needless to say there was no limit to the rounds of photographs taken, first on one person’s camera and then on another’s, then with these people and next with those. Olga and I had made the effort to dust off some vintage clothes, so this was another reason for having it large with the paparazzi.
We did find time to slip away, however.
Soviet vintage cars line up in Gvardeysk ~ Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021
The first stop was the public conveniences. I am strange, so I love using the loos here. It is a real Soviet experience: down the narrow flight of stairs, pay the babushka sitting at the counter at the bottom and then turn right into the homemade throne room. I cannot imagine any trip to Gvardeysk without using, or at the very least, visiting the lavs.
It was now time for a relaxing stroll around town, see the sites, visit the cheese shop and sit in the old courtyard of the cat sanctuary to have a bite to eat, whilst admiring the cat illustrations and old German feel of this sequestered place.
We had more free time at our disposable than we first imagined, so I also treated myself to an ice cream, a CCCP no less! (which is USSR to you).
More photos were waiting for us when we arrived back at the square. It was here that a young woman asked if she could have a picture taken with us. It turned out that she had a good command of English, and in the process of chatting she revealed that her ambition was to go to America. When my wife asked why, she thought, and then said: “The American Dream”. We said nothing. I could hear Leonard Cohen saying, “But you don’t want to lie, not to the young”. Anyway, this young woman must have been either extremely discerning or should have gone to Specsavers, as she said that I looked ‘handsome’. Was my wife jealous? Amused, I thought!
Before we left Königsberg Cathedral, Yury had raised a red flag by telling us that his car was having problems with the cooling system, but so far, so good: no need to top up with water. Just before we left the finishing line, he did, however, top up the tank with fuel, and I was intrigued to see that he could check how much was in the tank using a small dipstick located in the boot. Please refrain from the obvious joke; I was standing three feet away.
We left Gvardeysk as a cavalcade, with a police escort from the square to the town limit and to a fanfare even more enthusiastic than the one that had greeted us. Vintage cars seem to have that effect upon people, evoking respect, affection and enjoyment. Many people stand on the side of the road taking photos on their phones and making videos; people in cars toot their horns and wave as you pass by. It is all good stuff!
Today, on the return journey to Kaliningrad, we were pulling into Valdau Castle, the drive to which runs parallel with the main highway, and as we folded back upon ourselves, facing the way from which we had travelled, we were treated to a most magnificent sight, that of the club’s cars forming a long uninterrupted procession, the polished chrome and paintwork glistening in the afternoon sunlight and the car flags bearing the club’s name and logo fluttering resplendently in the breeze.
Regrettably, Valdau Castle would only be a pit stop today, but no sooner had we crossed the threshold into the grounds than I felt that ‘portal into the past’ sensation. So profound, exhilarating and organic it was that this familiar call from bygone days could not go unanswered for long. Olga was of the same mind, for she expressed dismay when she discovered that there was no time today to investigate the grounds and property further. “We will be back!” she asserted to whomever it was who was listening to her, going on to grumble about me to Yury for ‘never wanting to go anywhere … just sit in the churdak and write”. As a man to whom writing was not unfamiliar, I knew he would only empathise.
Cars of the Auto Retro Car Club Kaliningrad at Valdau Castle ~ Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021
The grounds to the front of Valdau Castle are not as one might expect, vast, in fact they are copse-like, forming a central island of trees and grass, with one road in and out and a path on the opposite side. The approach widens at the front of the building, and as the cars filed into this wider area one by one and very slowly, a group of five ladies who were lined up in the castle’s doorway were cheering, waving and laughing as each car made its debut. This jolly group were dressed one and all dirndl style and played their part so convincingly and with such perspicacity to the scene in which they were cast that no one, but no one, was able to assume a contradictory attitude. As each car turned the corner, the occupants were smitten with the sincerity of this greeting. It lit faces up as though someone had turned them into human lanterns. Nobody, nobody that is except the president of the club, Arthur, who was dashing up and down trying to fit too many cars into not enough space and only just succeeding, went uninitiated; the conviviality was infectious and spread like emotional wildfire. Even the imposing Gothic building could not feign disapproval. There was so much of everything bright and cheerful, including more than a touch, and in all the right places, of Moll Flanders’ better attributes.
Greetings from Valdau Castle ~ Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021Mick Hart & Olga Hart with staff of Valdau Castle 29 May 2021
From the castle the line of cars broke up as each took its preferred route back to Königsberg Cathedral, but met again at the Cathedral entrance to an applause and welcome fit for conquering heroes.
On landing, there was time enough to buy a snack from one of the food outlets and a coffee and relax on one of the wooden benches in the best patch of sun you could find, after which it was time for the moment of truth. Who had matched the rally clock, completed the course as specified and attained one of the first three positions.
There were three main trophies for the first three contestants, together with smaller cups and certificates for those who did not do as well as they would have liked but were gratefully acknowledged for their participation. We came second place, being only one second out from coming first.
Once our status had been announced, we hopped back into the Pobeda and Yury, deftly and at speed, whipped the motor up onto the elevated car ramp after a fashion that I could only dream of aspiring to.
It was trophy winners’ acceptance time and speeches.
This was not an easy task for me to accomplish. Apart from being the only Anglichanin in the race, I was not about to inflict, either upon the crowd facing me or upon myself, my incomparable Russian. This meant that I would have to address the crowds in English. I am sure that there must have been one or two people in the facing throng who knew what I was talking about. There was my wife, for example, who never knows what I am talking about, so why should she start now? And anyway, after I had concluded my few words, Yury rendered a brief translation.
It had been a long day, a rewarding day, a different day. There is, as they say, a first time for everything, and we had enjoyed this first time immensely!
Mick Hart & Yury Grozmani receiving a trophy at the Kaliningrad Retro Car Rally 29 May 2021
Food festival in the grounds of Königsberg Cathedral
Published: 17 May 2021 ~ Kaliningrad Street Food Festival
On 9th May, after honouring Victory Day by paying our respects at the Mass Grave of Soviet Soldiers and the Monument to 1200 Guardsmen, we were driven by our hosts, Arthur and Inara, to the street food fair, held this Easter in the sculptured parkland and cobbled grounds of Königsberg Cathedral.
Kneiphof Island, as this area was once known and now more commonly referred to as Kant’s Island for the very good reason that it is the historic resting place of the great German philosopher Kant with whose name it is eponymous, has undergone a series of successful gentrification programmes over the past few years, making its long, broad thoroughfare, which stretches from the Trestle Bridge on one side to Honeymoon Bridge on the other, the perfect place for cultural events.
Tourists and the majority of Kaliningradians approve but, as in every sphere of life, pleasing all of the people all of the time is as unobtainable as the Holy Grail, and the food fair, as well as other events held in this vicinity, is not without detractors, its critics arguing that the proximity of the cathedral and the hallowed ground on which it stands should prohibit such acts of sacrilege.
I personally do not hold with this. Reincarnation, as in the case of Königsberg Cathedral as much as in any other, is about breathing new life into something that would otherwise cease to exist, and the historical Phoenix that Königsberg Cathedral most assuredly is, is a good enough argument in my books for holding events nearby that celebrate life and, whilst I myself do not go in for Facebook snapshots of plates of grub, most people would agree that food and drink plays a not insignificant part in celebrating life or is, at the very least, a rather indispensable ingredient of it ~ something very much up there with oxygen and sunlight.
Thus, silently mediating between the cultural polemics by which my actions were guided, I was able to wend my way without a sullied conscience, heading towards the food fair by way of the riverside walk that fronts Kaliningrad’s ‘Fishing Village’ ~ an attractive architectural fantasy of swish hotels and well-appointed restaurants that has nothing to do with fishing but a lot to do with tourism.
Kaliningrad Street Food Festival
Someone, I believe it was my wife, suggested that we rest our weary bones at one of the outside tables and take light refreshment before going on to the fair. This was an odd idea considering that over the other side of Honeymoon Bridge there was about forty or fifty food stalls. But wives, as you know, know best …
Kaliningrad Fishing Village ~ on our way to Kaliningrad Street Food Festival
The first mistake was quickly followed by the second, which was that the spot we had chosen was firmly in the shade and subject to strong gusts of wind; the second mistake was the restaurant/café itself. Foodwise, it had not been a good choice, even for snack standards, although I did enjoy my pint of Leffe!
You might infer that having crossed Honeymoon Bridge we would be plunged into the troubled world of real life, but this was not the case.
Mick Hart with Inara: Honeymoon Bridge,Kaliningrad
Mick Hart & Olga Hart in front of Königsberg’s New Synagogue
The continuous row of brightly coloured stalls and milling crowds was a sight for sore self-isolating eyes, a coronavirus-contagious nightmare for your mask-wearing six-foot distancers, but for me, today, a much-needed carnival atmosphere ~ a cornucopia of pleasing sights, foot-tapping sounds and sizzling smells ~ or, as I put it earlier, a celebration of life.
Kaliningrad Street Food Festival
The pink stalls with their colourful, whacky wallpapered fronts, looked well in the sunlit environs, with the hefty walls of Königsberg Cathedral acting as their backdrop. There was food galore, which was not a bad thing for a food festival, but this being Russia it was a foregone conclusion that most of it would be meaty. For vegetarians such as myself, options are rather limited.
Unphased, since I am a ‘baked beans on toast’ sort of person anyway, there was nothing for it but to turn my attention to the beer they had on offer.
Olga discovered one stall selling warm beer; not warm as in ‘Ugh my beer is warm’ (an ironic grumble in England where everyone seems to have forgotten that beer is supposed to be served at room temperature), but warm in the sense of heated. Being nothing but adventurous ~ where beer is concerned, that is ~ I sampled some of this, and I must admit that, contrary to my bigotry, I found it remarkably palatable.
Mick Hart samples heated beer at Königsberg Cathedral Food Fair
At the corner of the pedestrian walk where the cobbled street widens to form the plaza at the front of the cathedral, a group of vintage vehicles were on display, among which was our friend’s, Arthur’s, Volga.
Speciality warm beer, vintage cars, good company & Königsberg Cathedral: Food Festival Kaliningrad 2021
To the right, the one-time silver refreshment caravan in the shape of an American diner has been replaced by a permanent parade of gift and refreshment cubicles and even a proper restaurant. Again, some people criticise, but I like them. They reflect Königsberg Cathedral’s increasing popularity as a tourist destination and are just enough and not too much.
At this point in the cathedral grounds the land rises, and it is necessary to climb a brief flight of steps to ascend to the higher and wider concourse, on either side of which today food stalls took pride of place.
The variety of food on offer was really quite astonishing, so much so that you would have to be suffering from indigestion, experiencing an attack of consummate vegetarianism, or just being rather peculiar should you not be able to find yourself something to sink your choppers into.
As I fall into at least one of those compromised categories, I continued to stay on the beer, which, like its solid counterpart, offered incomparable sustenance of a most diverse and most diverting kind.
All of a sudden standing went out of fashion. It was fortunate, therefore, that the municipal makeover of our immediate vicinity had pre-empted this condition, a contingency not found wanting in the number, style and seating capacity of the scrolled and slat-back benches dotted around the park.
Being difficult as well as vegetarian ~ same thing? ~ I immediately ignored these, and we eventually came to rest on the well-thought-out and positioned wooden steps that aligns the seated with the magnificent facade of Königsberg Cathedral.
Mick Hart & Olga with Arthur (feeding himself) on the steps in front of Königsberg Cathedral (May 2021)
From this spot we refused to move (OK, I refused to move) for the rest of the afternoon, with the exception of forays for food and beer ~ Oh, and Olga’s impulse purchase of a silver and amber ring (good job my beer requirement was not overstretching our budget!)
Said Olga, whilst we were sitting where we were sitting: Have you noticed how the front of Königsberg Cathedral has an unreal aspect about it? It has an ethereality, a lightness that most ecclesiastical buildings do not possess. Cathedrals in general have a formal and officiating presence, commanding deep and unquestionable reverence, but this cathedral seems to hang in the air ~ to float. Now remember, it was Olga saying this and not my beer, but was it the beer that made me respond that it looked from our perspective as if the cathedral could have been drawn on the natural canvas donated by this calm and relaxing day by our friend and artist Victor Ryabinin?
Some things you can never be sure of and others even less so, but one thing we agreed on was that Kaliningrad’s food festival had given us plenty of food for thought.
Published: 7 May 2021 ~ See 1930s Buick at Fort XI Kaliningrad
On the 29 April 2021, my wife, Olga, and I were invited to attend the Kaliningrad Retro Car Club’s classic car rally, which was being held at Fort XI (Fort Dönhoff), the best preserved fort of Königsberg’s outer defensive circle. I wrote about Fort Dönhoff in an earlier post, and one of the attractions of revisiting it was to see to what extent it had developed in terms of restoration and as a regional tourist attraction.
Needles to say, whilst there we snapped a good many photographs, both of the fort itself and of the cars exhibited.
One car that we photographed was not included in the photographic ensemble depicted in my last post, as it is not, as far as I can ascertain, owned by a member of the Retro Car Club and, besides, it is such an unusual vehicle to be stationed in this part of the world that I think that it deserves a post of its own.
See 1930s Buick at Fort XI Kaliningrad
As you will see from the photographs provided, the car in question is a 1930s’ American Buick ~ a must for anyone fascinated with early-to-mid 20th century American automobiles and the history of the period from the prohibition to the pre-war era.
I confess that I haven’t done my background work on this vehicle, but I am sure that there are any number of vintage automobile enthusiasts out there who will know exactly what model it is and its year of manufacture (most likely 1938?).
I did ask one of the Kaliningrad Retro Car Club members and received the indignant snort that “it [the car] is only a shell!” From which I understood that it is minus its engine. But even so, what a shell!
Posing next to it I wished I had worn my 1930s’ suit and Fedora and that I had retained a 1920s’ Thompson submachine gun from the days when I dealt in that sort of thing (deactivated, of course!). But without these props it was gratifying enough to be told that with the car in the background my wife and I could pass for Bonnie and Clyde.
Hmmm, I’m not sure whether our flatterer meant that we looked like the Bonnie and Clyde or the owners of Bonny’s Chip Shop in the Port of Barrow near Clyde?
But what the heck! Even a back-handed compliment is better than no compliment! And anyway, who could hope to upstage such an epoch-making vehicle as this!
1930s Buick at Fort XI
See 1930s Buick at Fort XI Kaliningrad
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Essential details:
Fort XI Dönhoff Ulitsa Energetikov Kaliningrad Kaliningrad Oblast 236034
Opening times: The fort is open every day: Summer from 10am to 6pm; Winter from 10am to 5pm
Admission: 300 roubles Discount tickets 150 roubles (pupils and students, retirees, veterans of the Great Patriotic War, the disabled) Free admission for children under 7 years old
Sightseeing tours: Tours are provided free of charge On weekdays tours take place daily at 11am, 1pm, 3pm and 5pm At weekends and holidays at 11am 12 noon, 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm and 5pm Approximate duration of tour is one hour For groups of more than 10 people, advanced booking is required. Tel: +7 401 239 0699
The classic cars had been assembled in two parallel lines. Even though there were as many as 15 or 20, they were lost, engulfed by the vast piece of open ground on which they were parked in front of a landmark that has earnt itself the dubious reputation of being Kaliningrad’s most ugly whilst, ironically, most iconic post-war building.
I am referring, of course, to that concrete anomaly that replaced the beauty that was Königsberg Castle, the House of Soviets ~ a building much loved by western journalists in their quest to mythicise Russian austerity, and for all those who earnestly believe that nothing ever changes for the better, a reassuring reminder that their nihilism is not unfounded.
‘H’ for House of Soviets ~ it has the same ambiguous appeal as Marmite
Fort XI Kaliningrad: Retro Car Club Day
The classic cars lined up on the paved expanse belonged to members of the Kaliningrad Retro Car Club. The cars were standing in front of the House of Soviets as a prelude to being driven cavalcade fashion on to Fort Dönhoff, the eleventh of the twelve forts that form the outer ring of the city of Königsberg’s nineteenth century defence system.
As we were a few minutes early for kick-off, I used the time available to snap a few pictures, both of the cars and the House of Soviets. Rumour has it that after 50 years of non-occupation due to its having been constructed on ancient tunnels that rendered it unsafe the moment it was built (and yet it is still here?), the days of the controversial House of Soviets may be finally numbered. I can hear Elton singing “I’m still standing” and Leonard Cohen reminding us that “You hear these funny voices in the Tower of Song …”
How chilly it was on this late April day can be calculated from the thin blue palate of the sky and the fluffy white clouds skating across its surface. The breeze was slight, but whenever the sun disappeared behind one of these cotton-wool splodges, the 8 degrees that we had been promised by the weatherman dipped, and the chill factor bit home.
Nevertheless, after twelve months or more consigned for the most part to barracks on account of coronavirus, it was good to be out and about again, even quite amazing to be standing there permissibly in such an open and public space, with the tall buildings of the city in the background, the traffic bustling past and on the near horizon the always edifying and noble turret of Königsberg Cathedral.
Königsberg Cathedral as seen from the former castle site ~ Kaliningrad, April 2021
Now that all the crew had arrived, it was time that we set off, and today we were in for a treat. We would be travelling to Fort XI in our friend Arthur’s Volga.
I have had the opportunity to ride in two or three Volga classics since moving to Russia. I love the typical 1960s’ interior — the low-slung front bench seat, the colour scheme that replicates that of the car’s exterior, the busy chromium dashboard, column-change gear stick, and, most of all, the arched transparent speedometer which, in its hey day, was as space-age chic as Sputnik (see first image in this post).
Unfortunately, Arthur’s speedo has the irritating tendency when the car is in motion to chatter a lot, and as we accelerated on the outskirts of the city, the chattering increased with such velocity that Inara, Arthur’s wife, in a refreshing moment of complete indifference to the repressive nature of political correctness, made as if the noise was coming from a car-mounted submachine gun. For a fleeting second it looked as though she was wearing a small moustache and was that a wave she was giving or a rather silly salute?
Despite this fantasy, there was little doubt that we were not travelling in a 1939 Mercedes-Benz 770 Grosser Offener Tourenwagenas, not least because I have it on good authority that the suspension on this particular vehicle has a solid retaining quality, whereas, in my opinion, the Volga’s suspension is spongey, tending to rock the car about on Kaliningrad’s variable road surface like an afternoon romp on a waterbed.
From consideration of the vehicle’s suspension, I then found myself asking did Volgas, indeed any Russian cars of this period, have powered steering? I ask this question as it is a mystery to me whether our driver, Arthur, wrestles with the steering wheel because he has no choice, because it is required, or simply because it is his adopted driving style?
I do know that other drivers were pleased to see the old girl on the road ~ and I don’t mean my wife. Numerous cars tooted respectfully at the unusual sight of the senior citizen bouncing across the city ~ and I do mean the car, not me.
Fort XI Kaliningrad by retro car
We were jolting along the approach road to Fort XI, when our hitherto uneventful journey took a dramatic turn for the worst. Suddenly, Arthur switched off the engine, and we coasted the last few metres, arriving at the side of the carpark under a cloud of steam.
Thankfully, the fault was not a serious one. The articulated radiator screen, which should have been open, had closed itself, either because of a broken piece of wire or for want of a screw (steady!). Whichever it was, willing helpers from the car club were immediately on hand and the problem was resolved within minutes, demonstrating how, when cars were honestly mechanical, not stuffed with computerised gismos as they are today, all it would take was a little know-how, a spanner and a screwdriver and a quick-fix would be implemented.
Arrival at Fort XI Kaliningrad
As we rolled past the perimeter gate of Fort Dönhoff, with the soldier’s grave to the left and the Soviet barb-wired emplacements to the right, I recalled my first visit to this heritage site back in 2015 and our last visit, which took place at the end of January 2020.
I wondered how this massive conservation/renovation programme had fared during the past 15 coronavirus months and how badly if at all the pandemic restrictions had affected business. Taking into consideration Russia’s nationwide policy to boost home tourism, whatever the downside, I reasoned, it had to be a good deal less dramatic than the impact Covid restrictions is having on business in western Europe.
Once the cars had been lined up exhibition fashion in front of the left arm of the fort, Olga and I decided to go and see what changes had taken place since we were last here.
Cars in the process of being lined up at the front of the fortBring on the BMWs!A German fort has to have a Volkswagen
I recalled Arthur ~ not Arthur of Kaliningrad Retro Club fame, but Arthur the man in charge of Fort XI’s reincarnation ~ saying on our last visit that he visualised one corridor inside the fort becoming a trading and exhibition street, so we decided to check this out first, stopping off on the way to rekindle some warmth over a cup of tea in the fort’s cafeteria.
Fort XI Kaliningrad developments
The vison of the ‘street’ had indeed been brought to fruition and atmospherically so. On our previous visit, you had to appreciate the vision with little vision, as the tunnel was lightless. But now illumination there was, set just at the right level so that you could see what you needed to see without compromising atmosphere.
I apologise to anybody if I have omitted them and their enterprise from this list, but, working from memory, on one side of the street the chambers leading from the main tunnel housed an antique shop, a coffee shop, a jewellers and amber specialist’s shop, an exhibition of military items leading to an evocative display at the base of the melted staircase (see my previous post on Fort XI Dönhoff) and a ‘rifle range’. On the opposite side the vaulted rooms had been opened up to allow access to the curious: one long, arched chamber contained haunting images of Königsberg as it had been before the war and as it was later, after the RAF had bombed it and after the battle for the city; whilst another room, judging by the cumbersome apparatus contained within it, appeared to be the fort’s original boiler house.
Each room in the fortress is lovingly festooned with educational wall boards, which no doubt inform you of each exhibit and the interdependence that each room had to the fort’s military effectiveness, but, alas, as my ability to translate Russian is not as good as it should be I had to rely for the most part on my own perspicacity. And, it would seem, as my eyesight is not as good as it once was, I completely failed to notice that the newly erected ‘you are here’ boards, strategically placed in the tunnels and corridors, are all equipped with English translations. So, like the explorers of old, I plotted my course with vicissitude!
The past’s presence in Fort XI Kaliningrad
Standing once again in the main tunnel, taking my photographs, I became aware of the strange hush that descends on visitors once they have been swallowed up inside the fort’s subterranean maze, the possible joint consequence of acoustic absorption by the high, arched ceilings, the awesome madness of the construction in terms of sheer size and scale and the impenetrability of trying to imagine what it would have been like to have been a soldier stationed here, sentenced to serve and live in the echoing twilight of this vast brick warren.
Relics of war …
Consulting my inbuilt compass, which seems to work on the principal of a magnetic attraction to vodka, I returned to the comparative warmth of the outside world and on the way met Arthur, architect of the fort’s restoration.
We had ‘bumped into’ him and his wife earlier in the café where we had briefly discussed ‘work ongoing’ and, meeting with him now, were privileged to be offered a tour of some of the other parts of the fort that we had visited last year, to see the changes that had been made.
The rooms and associated area focusing upon Königsberg’s war-time history and the fort’s involvement in the siege of Königsberg had undergone a rationalised re-configuration. The cabinet and wall displays of WWII Soviet weaponry, uniformed mannequins and such had been added to and re-assigned, and a wheel-mounted machine gun ~ possibly a DShK 1938 ~ took pride of place in the centre of the room (the sight of such a weapon would be enough to throw our British-Soviet re-enactors into uncontrollable raptures!). Likewise, the study area, complete with white board and electronic visual and auditory equipment, had been tweaked and moved to a better location. Last year these rooms had been good; now they were professional.
Soviet WWII Weapons
Maxim Machine Gun Fort XI
Our next stop was a large room, composed of three or four chambers, which, I seem to recall from our last visit, had been used for social functions. Indeed, this spacious room, with its grand open fireplace, would seem to make the perfect place for venues. However, we learnt today that it had been reassigned as a museum of fortification, whose educational resources were to be augmented using state-of-the-art virtual-reality.
As exciting as this promised to be, I have to admit I was disappointed. I suppose because I saw this room as the right place for a Wetherspoon’s pub ~ but, hey now, isn’t that typically me!
What our small party agreed on was that the rooms and corridors into which we had been shown were nice and warm, but lordy! — imagine how difficult and how expensive it must be to heat something of this magnitude!
From this suite of rooms we were taken outside across one of the interior grassed quadrangles, along a block-paved path to a door in one of the adjacent banks. I could see as we approached that this entrance had been tidied up and, indeed, fitted with one of Fort XI’s signature gridiron doors, two in fact, the interior one serving as an airlock to keep in the warmth from the central heating.
One of Fort XI’s Inner quadrangles
Quadrangle seen from opposite direction
Inside, electric lighting clearly testified to the fact that a great deal of work had been undertaken in restoring the brickwork both in the walls and the floor. Apparently, each brick had been painstakingly cleaned by hand.
A spiral staircase inset in the wall led into a long chamber, wide enough to hold two tiers of desks. Above this chamber, accessible by the same staircase, lies a second chamber of identical proportions. And in each, as in almost every room in the fort, there are professionally designed and attractive wall-mounted information boards.
It looked like a school, and it was. Once complete, this combination of rooms is destined to facilitate Fort XI’s Spy School ~ an educational experience from which one will eventually graduate knowing all there is to know about the art, science and history of spying. Call me Maxwell Smart, I thought, as we descended the spiral staircase.
On our way back to base, I praised Arthur for the sterling work he and his crew had achieved in the past year, to which he graciously but wryly responded, as he did last year, there is still a great deal to do, adding that his reward for orchestrating the never-ending project lay in the cultural service that he was providing.
That is the joy of spending time with time travellers and historians. It is not just their knowledge that attracts but their love of the past in whatever form it takes to float their boat, and that obviously goes for cars as well.
Russian classic car enthusiasts are no different from their British counterparts in this respect, although, needless to say, in Russia the social dimension shines. The car club is just that: a club. The people all club together, muck in together, bring food, tea, coffee and picnic tables to each venue that they inhabit, ensuring that the day becomes an enjoyable social occasion.
On this occasion, music was also provided courtesy of a vintage USSR radio, and for those of us who were passengers, and thus relieved of the responsibility of being behind the wheel, vodka was also at hand. Don’t drink and drive! This is how the slogan went. Wise words indeed. Could this be the reason why I gave up driving years ago?
After Arthur’s tour, we made our way back to our retro club friends, who were enjoying the sunshine in spite of the chill that its presence had failed to entirely eradicate.
Some of the car owners had brought along Soviet-era samovars: big, nickel-plated kettles with chimneys on the top. This would be the first time that I would get to see them in action.
Olga and I have always wanted a samovar, so that we can react the counting-the-stars scene in Hedgehog in the Fog.
At present, we only have a couple of plug-in electric samovars, which are all well and good as curiosity pieces, but to enjoy the real experience of tea-making using a samovar you really do have to feed it with made-to-measure kindling wood, then stand back whilst the water boils and watch as the chimney smokes!
The carnival atmosphere around the car and picnic tables also seemed to appeal to the fort’s four legged critters. It brought out the resident funny bunnies and, not to be left out, even a duck got in on the act.
Teased by the sun and a sporadic stiff breeze, the day had all the makings of being a cold one, but the warmth of human interaction, good company and a genuine sense of camaraderie ~ all of the human values that coronavirus restrictions have threatened to deprive us of over the past 12 months ~ proved their vital importance, reminding us in timely fashion that there is only one true normal, which if taken away leaves nothing.
The historic setting added its own unique ambience. Fort XI is an inspiration —the perfect place to realise that there is no time like the past. It is a true gateway into Königsberg and its region; an ongoing restoration project of no small magnitude celebrating history even as it continues to be history in the making.
On the subject of time, I am not sure what the soldiers billeted here in their past-present thought of our antics today, but with history being so vibrant and so alive within the walls of Dönhoff, you feel you can almost ask them? Perhaps when you visit you will?
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Essential details:
Fort XI Dönhoff Ulitsa Energetikov Kaliningrad Kaliningrad Oblast 236034
Opening times: The fort is open every day: Summer from 10am to 6pm; Winter from 10am to 5pm
Admission: 300 roubles Discount tickets 150 roubles (pupils and students, retirees, veterans of the Great Patriotic War, the disabled) Free admission for children under 7 years old
Sightseeing tours: Tours are provided free of charge On weekdays tours take place daily at 11am, 1pm, 3pm and 5pm At weekends and holidays at 11am 12 noon, 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm and 5pm Approximate duration of tour is one hour For groups of more than 10 people, advanced booking is required. Tel: +7 401 239 0699
