Tag Archives: Life in Kaliningrad

Life in Kaliningrad Russia under threats and sanctions

Do I detect an air of Pofik!?

Edited 30 September 2025 | First published: 3 July 2022 ~ Life in Kaliningrad Russia under threats and sanctions

It cannot be pleasant being the least liked prime minister in British history, but it should be remembered that Kier Starmer and his crew are only where they are today as a result of 14 years of Tory ineptitude, non-stop party infighting and off-the-chart bungling and incompetence. If the Cons hadn’t been so obsessed in beating Labour at its own wokist game, and Badenoch is a symptom of this absurdity, the foundations that they laid which paved the way for Labour’s accession would never have lost us our country.

This post, originally published in July of 2022, was a response to two inseparable misconceptions: first, that with work Boris Johnson could overcome himself and somehow run the country; and second, that Western sanctions would critically undermine Russia’s economic stability, which has proven to be far more resilient than the UK and its allies evidently anticipated. Here is that retrospective.

With Lithuania threatening to blockade Kaliningrad by restricting transit of goods from mainland Russia by train, the Latvian interior minister gleefully announcing that this proved that the West was poised to ‘take Kaliningrad away from Russia’¹ and the prime minister of Poland making so much noise that it is difficult to tell whether it is his sabre rattling, his teeth chattering or something more personal knocking together, it looked as though once again the storm clouds had begun to gather over the former region of the Teutonic Order.

I cannot, however, say with any semblance of sincerity that, as the shadow slowly dispersed, the Kaliningrad populace breathed a sigh of relief, for, quite frankly, and not flippantly, but wanting as always to tell it exactly as it is, nobody — meaning nobody with whom in Kaliningrad I am acquainted — seemed to give a flying f*ck!

You can put it down to whatever you like: the Russian penchant for c’est la vie, faith in themselves and their country, a growing immunity to the West’s mouth and trousers or perhaps the absence of a corporate media that makes its fortune by pedalling fear, but, whatever you attribute it to, if the residents of Kaliningrad were supposed to feel concerned by the slew of sanctions and the threat of isolation, then think again, as it didn’t happen.

Perhaps the intended fallout never occurred because we were all too busy laughing at Boris Johnson’s jokes. For example, the one about the conflict in Ukraine, which, says Boris, would never have happened had Vladimir Putin been a woman. Woked the Downing Street clown, It’s the “perfect example of toxic masculinity,” causing me to ask myself what exactly is masculinity when it is detoxified? Is it where you rove around without wearing any pants with your gonads painted rainbow colours, or when you go into hiding like President Turdeau does whenever he hears a trucker’s horn?

To increase his chances of success in obtaining future employment with Robert Brothers’ Circus, Boris jocularly suggested during the G7 Summit that the leaders of the ‘free’ world (free with every packet of neoliberal dictatorship) should, to equal the manliness of Vladimir Putin, take off all their clothes, to which President Putin replied, and I think this is something we all can agree on, “I don’t know how they wanted to undress, waist-high or not, but I think it would be a disgusting sight …”² It certainly conjured up an image far more frightful than any threat that the collective West had yet devised and had a far more psychologically damaging impact than the predictability of waging war with the globalist weapon of choice — sanctions.

Alack-a-day, as unthinkable as it is, if Boris wasn’t joking, then his latest remarks well might be some of the most stupid things he has ever said. However, it doesn’t necessarily follow. Occasionally, but seldomly, and most likely accidentally, Boris proves to himself, and others who care to listen to him, that if he tries, really tries, he is capable of utterances that seem at face value to make some sense, not much and not often, granted, but like miracles and wishes that sometimes can come true, the fantastic has been known to happen, which is more than can be said for anyone in the Labour party ~ or about any and all of the Labour party’s supporters.

Nevertheless, Boris old boy, you must admit that some of the things that you have been blurting out of late do have a rather silly public schoolboy wheeze about them. Now, were you the current President of the United States at least you could plead senility or, failing that, insanity. But be careful and beware! Keep on behaving in this childish manner and you’ll make yourself the perfect candidate for filling Biden’s boots when in a not long time from now Biden’s booted out.

Life in Kaliningrad Russia under threats and sanctions

I suppose that in moments like these, those of us who are old enough to remember, should simply take a step backwards and give thanks that we lived in the England of old, in the days of pre-gender bending. And though for most Winston Churchill has passed from living memory into history, note that the great man himself was endowed with more than his fair share of so-called ‘toxic masculinity’, even more, perhaps, than that which queerly circulates among whatever it is that charges around playing women’s rugby. And heaven be praised that Winston Churchill was such a toxically manly man, for had it not been so, we’d all be speaking German now. Mein Gott!

We don’t. And the dark clouds over Kaliningrad, like all the threats and nonsense leaching out from the G7 Summit, were nothing but storms in a teacup. The only positive outcome for those of us in the West who are rapidly losing faith in ever being blessed again with a real man for prime minister is that Boris kept his trousers on.

And yet, so as not to be accused of having been economical with the truth, I can confirm that a storm did break. After a glorious week of glorious weather, Kaliningrad and its region were suddenly plunged headlong into the most frightful and persistent series of electric storms imaginable.

For three days and as many nights, the firmament’s guts growled flatulently. Sheets of livid light flashed across the sky and, lying there in bed unable to sleep because of it, it was easy to imagine that the entire world was forked ~ forked, that is, with lightning!

Olga was in a right old tizz. To her it was a celestial sign, unequivocal confirmation that her tarot-card readers, crystal-ball gazers, soothsayers and the like, whose predictions she believes implicitly and to whom she refers collectively and in glowing terms as esoterics, whom I call snake-oil salesmen, had got it bang to rights: change was in the air; portentous and tumultuous change; a new bright dawn was coming.

Life in Kaliningrad Russia under threats and sanctions

As strange as it may seem, our normally vocal cat Gin-Ginsky had nothing to say on the matter, or if he did, he was keeping it to himself. He is a rather diplomatic cat. He doesn’t make jokes like Boris Johnson, which means he remains in favour and, unlike Boris Johnson, makes him rather easy to live with.

Considering him to be a little less slim than once he probably was, Ginger, not Boris Johnson, we recently changed his food to a brand called ‘Food for Fat Cats’, as recommended by those in the West who keep their clothes on at G7 Summits.

The word ‘light’ on the packet implies this food has dietary benefit. Ginger seems to love it. He scoffs it twice as fast as he did when eating his former brand and in ever-increasing quantities. Every now and again he will look up from his bowl and fix you with his ginger eyes as if to say, “Fat cat, indeed, I’ll show you!” Perhaps, the meaning of ‘Food for Fat Cats’ is ‘Food to make cats fatter’? I must remember to warn him that if he ever attends a G7 Summit not to take his shirt off!

Those of you who in the West, especially those among you who changed your Arsebook avatars to the colours of the Ukrainian flag and are now ashamed you did but never will admit it, are dying to hear, I know, how badly the sanctions are biting in Kaliningrad. That’s why I mentioned the cat: he’s biting into his grub. But I would be Boris Johnson should I lie and say that the price of cat food has not increased incrementally since the waving of the magic wand of sanctions. What other things have gone up recently (ooerr Mrs)? Have all of us in Kaliningrad been forced to change our diet? Are we all eating cheaper brands of cat food?

I know that an interest in this topic exists because lately a lot of people have been tuning into my post Panic Buying Shelves Empty. I can only presume that this is down to Brits kerb-crawling the internet in search of hopeful signs that western sanctions don’t lack teeth.

Instances exist, I will admit, when we, like our cat, are biting these days into different brand-named foods than those in which we used to sink our gnashers before sanctions were pulled from the hat. The reason being, I suppose, because the brands that we used to buy belong to manufacturers who have been forced into playing Biden’s game, Exodus & Lose Your Money.

Price increases in some food categories have been duly noted. Pheew, what a relief, I hear you say. If this was not the case, then the sanctions’ ideology would be more embarrassing than it already is for leaders of western countries who are ruining their own economies by having introduced them.

Were we talking beer? If we weren’t then, we are now.

With the advent of the sanctions, some beer brands are noticeably absent, although the earlier gaps in shelves have since been filled with different brands from different brewers from different parts of the world. Those brands untouched by sanctimonies, which is to say those that still remain, do reflect a hike in price, but as prices fluctuate wildly here during the best of times, it is simply a matter of shopping around as one always does, sanctions or no sanctions, for products that do not mug your pocket.

So, there in essence you have it. Not from the bought and paid for UK corporate media, agenda-led by globalist moguls, but from an honest-to-goodness sanctioned Englishman reporting from Russia’s Kaliningrad, who is willing to swear on a stack of ale casks, with one hand on his heart and the other on his beer glass, that life in Russia’s exclave under threat and sanctions has changed so little as to be negligibly different to life as it was in the days when sanctions were but an evil twinkle in the eyes of those whose machinations have ultimately let them down.

If you wanted to hear that the sanctions are working, I’m sorry I disappointed you.

References
1. Russia threatened NATO with a “meat grinder” when trying to take Kaliningrad Russian news EN (lenta-ru.translate.goog)
2. https://www.rt.com/russia/558107-putin-boris-johnson-response/

Image attributions
Thunderbolt: https://publicdomainvectors.org/en/free-clipart/Mr-Thunderbolt-cloud-vector-image/31288.html
Fat man: http://clipart-library.com/clipart/fat-man-clipart_4.htm

Three Bears Crystal beer in Kaliningrad, Russia

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

Article 9: Three Bears Crystal beer

Updated 28 July 2025 | First Published 27 November 2020 – Three Bears Crystal beer in Kaliningrad, Russia

Whenever I see a beer bottle or can in a Russian supermarket with three bears (tree meeshkee) on the label, I am smitten by a wave of nostalgia, as this brand of bottled beer was quite possibly the first I drank on my inaugural trip to Kaliningrad.

Memory is a fallible thing, for mine suggests that my first Three Bears was consumed in the winter of 2000, whereas internet research indicates that Three Bears made their Russian debut later in 2002.

Be this as it may, there is no denying the fact that the brand has successfully established itself as quintessentially Russian, and with bears in name and bears in logo, it could hardly have failed to do otherwise. For example, if the beer had been Russian Hat, they could have achieved a similar effect by using an ushanka label — come now, of course you know what I mean; an ushanka is one of those furry hats with a flap down either side.

Typically Russian in appearance, the Three Bears brand was originally part of the Heineken portfolio but is now produced by United Breweries. [source: AI Google]

Three Bears Crystal beer in Kaliningrad Russia

The Three Bears brand has four exciting variants: Three Bears Classic; Three Bears Light; Three Bears Crystal; and Three Bears Strong. At 8.3% ABV, the Three Bears Strong obviously speaks for itself: it sort of makes a deep ‘Grrrr’ sound; the Classic at 4.9% is not so ‘Grrrr’, but still is ‘Grrr’; the Three Bears Crystal, which is 4.4%, is by no means a purring pussycat; but, as you would expect, Three Bears Light is only 4.7% — er, wait a moment, am I missing something? Perhaps when they use the word ‘Light’, the allusion is to colour?

Three Bears Crystal beer in Kaliningrad, Russia

I chose to buy Three Bears Crystal because whenever I have a session, I will normally drink a couple of 1.5-litre bottles of beer in what is referred to as one sitting. How much of a lush you judge me to be by supping this amount will be predicated entirely on your own consumption criteria, namely, “Woah, that’s far too much!” or “I’d get that down before breakfast!” The difference in definition lies somewhere between one’s understanding of the difference between broadcast and boast, prohibition and politician, and promise and perversion — all three tinged by the maxims ‘men will always be men’ or ‘men will always be boys’. Such connotations could cause a stir of controversy by the time they have reached the end of the UK rainbow but could equally garner butch-like brownie points with feminists on the way.

Sorry, all this has about as much to do with Three Bears Crystal beer as Biden’s implanted view of the world had with facts and reality. My advice to you is, unless you are absolutely sure that Goldilocks is female, don’t go down to the woods today, or you could be in for a big surprise.

I stayed in with Crystal, and was I in for a Big Surprise!

In the bottle and in the glass, Three Bears Crystal has an attractive amber tone, making it an empathic ale for amber-lands consumption. Its hoppy, bitter fragrance tends to waft away a few minutes after decantation, which was enough in coronavirus times to alarm you with the question, “Am I losing my sense of smell?” but, needing no better excuse to quickly take the taste test, as soon as it hit your tongue, you breathed a sigh of relief: “Aha,” you went. “Worth every rouble!” Of course, during coronavirus, I always wore my face mask whenever I drank Three Bears or anything else.

Three Bears Crystal has, what I like to refer to, as a ‘straw taste’ — and I do not use this term derogatively. I know that it does not sound nearly as chic as shampers or as manly as scotch on the rocks and is probably a rustic hangback from my days as a teenage farmer, but whatever its derivative status, ‘straw’ is a term that captures for me a specific beer experience in which the initial bitter sharpness is offset by a blunting edge, a saturating mellow taste.

This is not to say that Three Bears Crystal does not pack a zing, although I have my suspicions that this is down to its carbonation, which, I also believe, is instrumental in producing the lingering bitter tang, which remains well after the product has been consumed. But for all that zinging and tanging, the essence of this beer is decidedly Matt Monro — an easy-on-the-palate version of easy listening on the ears.

Three Bears Crystal beer is a session beer

In words that every beer-quaffing Englishman will readily understand, Three Bears Crystal is, in my judgement, as sound as a pound (and as right as a rouble). It is what is known in drinking circles as a ‘session’ beer.

It goes down famously well with a traditional packet of crisps and a handful of salted peanuts, neither of which you can currently enjoy in any English pub due to the recent virus curfew laws*. These laws seem to suggest that coronavirus hides in pubs and waits to pounce on people who prefer to snack with their pint rather than eat a “substantial meal,” such as a big plate of greasy burgers, lashings of frozen peas, and a disgusting pile of fatty fries made from reconstituted mashed potatoes.
[*At the time when this post was first published (2020), UK coronavirus laws outlawed drinking in pubs without the coronavirus passport of having purchased a ‘substantial meal’.]

Conclusion: The message is Crystal clear. You don’t need a Vaccine Passport, then fly to the UK to suffer a plate of infamous pub grub just to enjoy a decent beer. Three Bears Crystal beer is sold in most of Kaliningrad’s supermarkets in handy 1.5-litre bottles at a price you cannot growl at. Why not buy two bottles! Should you overdo it, there is always the hair of the bear!

Three Bears Crystal beer in Kaliningrad — Three Bears Crystal beer

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Three Bears Crystal
Brewer: United Breweries
Where it is brewed: St Petersburg and in other Russian locations
Bottle capacity: 1.5 litres
Strength: 4.4%
Price: It cost me about 125 rubles (£1.23) in 2000
Appearance: Light amber
Aroma: Not much
Taste: Light bitterness, the equivalent of a British light or pale ale
Fizz amplitude: 5/10
Label/Marketing: Traditional Russian
Would you buy it again? I have, on several occasions

*Note that the beers that feature in this review series only include bottled beer types that are routinely sold through supermarket outlets and in no way reflect the variety of beer and/or quality available in Kaliningrad from speciality outlets and/or through bars and restaurants.

Life in Kaliningrad through the lens of a camera

A few snapshots from my Kaliningrad album

22 May 2024 ~ Life in Kaliningrad through the lens of a camera

They could be curated, they could be aggregated, but I suspect that they are a random collection of photographs, some more recent than others, taken in and of Kaliningrad. Judge for yourselves.

Life in Kaliningrad

Above: Trams {Click on images to enlarge}
The new and the old ~ and I am not referring to myself. Here am I riding one of Kaliningrad’s latest trams. They are smooth and swish, and you can buy your ticket using touch-card technology. The old trams, c1970s (second photograph), good looks, as far as I am concerned. For me, these two-carriage ‘biscuit tins’ have classic kudos. I love the sounds and the movements they make. I even love the metal seats. Whenever I use these trams, our old friend Victor Ryabinin comes to mind. I can see him now, holding onto the rail at the back of the tram, observing life, as artists do, through the tram’s rear window. Rear Window! That’s a good name for a film.

Mick Hart and Olga Hart at Kaliningrad vintage car show 2019

Above: 2019 Golden Shadow of Königsberg
When things were different, and they often are, the Auto Retro Club Kaliningrad held an international and classic car show. The photo of me in a wide-brimmed trilby (a Fedora) was taken in what was that year (2019) the main arena for car competitions, the carpark of the King’s Residence, Kaliningrad’s most elaborate family leisure centre and restaurant complex. (Tweed jacket courtesy of Mr Wilcox)

Mick Hart in front of Kaliningrad's Cathedral of Christ the Saviour

Orthodox Christian Cathedral Kaliningrad
The photograph of yours truly was taken in March of this year (2024) in Victory Square in front of The Cathedral of Christ the Saviour, Kaliningrad. In days of yore, meaning the early 2000s, this spot was dominated by a large bronze statue of Lenin, since removed to another quarter of the town. With the construction of the cathedral, the centre of Kaliningrad moved from Königsberg’s cultural and spiritual centre, directly in front of the Kaliningrad Hotel, to where it is today. In Königsberg’s days, the area known as Victory Square and everything beyond lay outside the city’s defensive walls. (Yes, I know, from a compositional perspective, it would have been much better had I stood so that I was centred in the photograph in line with the door. It annoys me as well!)

Königsberg relics at fleamarket in Kaliningrad

< Left: Königsberg Relics
A lot of Königsberg was blown into bits and pieces during World War Two, so it is hardly surprising that bits and pieces of its past keep turning up, and a good place to find them ~ in fact the best ~ is at Kaliningrad’s flea market, just to one side of the city’s central market. This photo illustrates why I love this market so much.

Below: QR Code Checkers
Here’s a blast from the past ~ and let’s sincerely hope that it remains that way. Here we have QR Code Checking Officers on duty during the Coronavirus era, not letting anybody inside the cathedral unless they had a QR code proving they had been ‘jabbed’. Looking back on this sinister period of history makes walking in and out of doorways unchallenged instantly gratifying.

Life in Kaliningrad

QR Code checkers monitor access to Kaliningrad Cathedral in the Coronavirus year of 2021

Kaliningrad Botanical Gardens: an autumnal scene of the lake

Above: Kaliningrad Botanical Gardens
Unlike many cities, you do not have to travel far in Kaliningrad to enjoy nature in its natural habitat. This photograph captures the tranquility of the lake in Kaliningrad’s Botanical Gardens. It was taken in autumn 2023.

Above: Kaliningrad Sculptures {Click on images to enlarge}
Kaliningrad is renowned for its sculptures: Schiller, Kant, Lenin and the composition of two fighting bison to name but four. They may possess an attitude of assumed permanence thanks to who and what they are, but this distinction should not cancel out the ephemeral and the esoteric. This purple faceted moggy was last seen sitting statuesque outside Kaliningrad’s latest shopping centre in the central market district, and it is not everyday you will see an updated Russian samovar sitting on top of an oil drum in the grounds of Königsberg Cathedral.

Life in Kaliningrad: Three iconic buildings in Kaliningrad, but the House of Soviets is no more ...

Above: House of Soviets
A poignant picture of the House of Soviets framed between the hotel and restaurant buildings of Kaliningrad’s Fishing Village and the reconstructed ‘New Synagogue’ c.2023. Stand in the same spot today where the photograph was taken to appreciate the laws of transience by which our lives are governed.

Above: CCCP (that’s USSR to you)
As you know, because it’s general knowledge, there’s no time like the past, which is why as a collector of what’s left of it, I was thrilled to discover on a hot day in ’22 an ice cream with an historical theme. After chilling out on it, I was able to say with impunity, “ I enjoyed the USSR”.

Above: Sunny Day in Youth Park {Click on images to enlarge}
They say that ‘youth is wasted on the young’, but whenever I stroll through Kaliningrad’s Youth Park, I put this prejudice behind me and think instead ‘young at heart’. Some would say, ‘never grown up!’ I vow one day that I will attempt to complete every adult ride in the park in series. Until that day dawns, I will continue to enjoy those days when the park is less rumbustious. At the time these photos were taken (May 2024), I was more than happy simply to purchase a cup of specialty tea and sit and drink it on a park bench. The park attendants were filling the planters with flowers, and the sun had got its hat on.

Königsberg villa in modern-day Kaliningrad

Above: Königsberg Villas
It is hardly surprising that when residents of Moscow, Siberia and other far-flung places across this huge territory that is Russia, visit Kaliningrad, they fall in love with the city. Kaliningrad, in all its many and diverse facets, is, by virtue of its Prussian-Russian history, a unique experience, central to which is its surviving German buildings. Contrary to the belief that all of Königsberg was raised to the ground during WWII, many splendid, curious and fine examples of architectural merit are extant, and it is not always necessary to adopt a ‘seek and ye shall find’ approach. In the districts of Amalienau and Maraunenhof, for example, almost every street contains something of architectural significance, and some streets have enough large houses and grand villas on them to make even the most abstemious ashamed of their secret envy.

Above: Contrasting Scenes of Kaliningrad {Click on images to enlarge}
Two cityscape views: one taken from a high-rise flat complex; the other from a balcony (May 2024), to coincide with the first blooms of spring.

New Book! Vintage Cars of Königsberg

The Steel Ghost of Königsberg

Published: 19 October 2020

A new book on the vintage cars of Königsberg , titled The Steel Ghost of Königsberg, is a nostalgic & historical landmark

A historic moment was recorded today (17 October 2020) when our friend, Yury Grozmani, journalist, historian, vintage car enthusiast and organiser of the Kaliningrad international vintage car festival, The Golden Shadow of Königsberg, presented me with a signed copy of his recently completed book The Steel Ghost of Königsberg. The inscription on the inside front cover reads:

“To an excellent journalist Mick Hart from an equally excellent journalist Yury Grozmani. For a long memory in honor of the best years spent in the beautiful historical city of Kant and Schiller – the city of Königsberg – with respect from the author.”

New Book! Vintage Cars of Königsberg

Yury reminded us that it had been almost a year ago when we discussed the progress of this project over dinner at the Plushkin restaurant, sadly now closed. On that occasion he had brought with him a copy of the book’s proposed front cover, adding that there was still much work to do on the book itself. During that evening we discussed his previous book, The Iron Heart of Königsberg, which was published in 2015. The Steel Ghost of Königsberg is the sequel to this work.

**Front cover design to The Steel Ghost of Königsberg**

The Steel Ghost of Königsberg, which explores the relationship between the vintage cars of Königsberg and their owners, contextualised within the history of the East Prussian city, was no short time in the making. Yury confided in us that he has been researching, writing and compiling the book for an astounding 29 years!

New Book! Vintage Cars of Königsberg

The book is based on real events. It narrates the stories of people who, after the Siege of Königsberg in 1945, had the honour to own or use the cars that once belonged to the ‘great and good’ ~ kings, heads of state, ministers, bankers, actors and leading Königsberg townspeople.

The book comprises 18 chapters distilled from the memoirs of people from diverse backgrounds and all walks of life, including those who took part in the Battle of Königsberg, famous Soviet generals, doctors, actors, housewives, taxi drivers, traffic wardens, tram drivers and so on. The stories are different — some intricate, some formal, some sentimental, some dramatic and many very amusing.

With its imaginative page designs, detailed accounts and being lavishly illustrated throughout, this landmark publication demonstrates yet again Yuri Grozmani’s top-flight ability as a writer, journalist and editor, whilst the breadth and incisiveness of his research speaks volumes for his love of vintage vehicles, the history of their ownership and the unique city and region upon whose dramatic stage the vehicles’ life stories and the stories of those who travelled in and/or travelled through existence with them have been played out over the years.

To seal the historic occasion, Yuri completed the inscription on the inside front cover by penning in today’s date just before he handed my copy to me ~ 17 October 2020.

Many thanks, Yuri!