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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
Copyright © 2018-2022 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.
