Tag Archives: Olga Hart in Svetlogorsk

Telegraph in Svetlogorsk Good Coffee Unique Art

On route to originality

14 October 2024 ~ Telegraph in Svetlogorsk Good Coffee Unique Art

Contrary to received wisdom, it is not always necessary or indeed advisable for travellers to stick to the beaten track. Verily, by doing so the chances of missing out on some hidden cultural gem or other, or hitherto unencountered esoteric and unusual experience are magnified manyfold.

Indubitably, there are some parts of the world, some sinister and dubious places, where keeping to the beaten track is less a question of tourism than an action guided by common sense in the interests of survival.

Take London, for example, that patchwork quilt of small towns wherein no boundaries lie. One minute you, the traveller, can almost believe what the travel guides tell you, that London is, indeed, one of the world’s most civilised cities, the next, because you strayed from the beaten track, that you are up S*it Creek without a paddle in the Black Hole of Calcutta. Is it Africa or Pakistan? No point leaving the beaten track to be beaten in your tracks. Best to beat a hasty retreat.

Telegraph in Svetlogorsk

Enrichments of this nature do not apply, thank goodness, to a small secluded backstreet in the seaside town of Svetlogorsk on Russia’s Baltic Coast. Not officially known as ‘Off the Beaten Track’, Street Ostrovskogo (‘Off the Beaten Track’ is easier to say) is a quaint, leafy, meandering avenue that wends its way from Street Oktyabr’skaya (it’s easier just to say ‘Off the ‘Beaten Track’).

In Svetlogorsk, the streets run off from a large, open public space in the centre of the town, which, during clement months, overflow with tourist’s eagerly taking advantage of the outside drinking and eating areas. One of the streets that travels from this lively, bustling hub is Ulitsa Oktyabr’skaya. It is the street you will need to walk to get you to the Telegraph café.

The route is a rewarding one. It takes you past a Svetlogorsk landmark, the 1908 Art Nouveau water tower, past the town’s pretty Larch Park with its copy of Hermann Brachert’s ‘Water Carrier’ sculpture ~ the original is in the Brachert Museum ~ past my favourite and recently renovated neo-Gothic house and onto the Hartman Hotel.

To say that you cannot miss Ulitsa Ostrovskogo would be a silly thing to say, because if your sense of direction is anything like mine … Sorry? Oh, it isn’t. Well then just look for a clothes shop on your right. You won’t be able to miss it, because your sense of direction is better than mine and also because in the summer months some of its garments are hung outside in order to make the shop more visible, and besides it is located within one of those charming old German edifices that have at their gable end an all-in-one veranda-balcony glazed and enclosed in wood. This then is the junction at which you turn for Telegraph. This is the end of the beaten track.

Halfway along this quiet backwater, at the point where streets meet chevron-fashion, stand a permanent cluster of wooden market stalls. These are something you cannot miss also, especially those with roofs, which give them the quaint appearance of modest garden summer houses. Here, artisans working in various materials ~ leather, metalware and ceramics ~ together with artists of paint and palette, regularly gather to sell their goods. The range and novelty of their handmade products really are surprising and the quality of them consistently high.

Olga Hart & Lilya Bogatko in Svetlogorsk

Olga Hart with Pavel Timofeev in Svetlogorsk

Lilya Bogatko with Olga Hart selling designer ceramics in Svetlogorsk

The location of these stalls could not be better placed, since a little further on the left-hand side, you have reached your destination ~ Svetlogorsk’s former telegraph building, resurrected in recent years as an outlet for arts and crafts, as a coffee shop and art gallery.

Telegraph in Svetlogorsk

In addition to selling coffee of various kinds~ and very good they are too! ~ Telegraph deals in assorted teas, other delicious drinks, a seductive range of desserts, irresistable homemade cakes and pastries you’ll want to leave home for. It is also a cornucopia of distinctive handcrafted wares, including vintage and designer clothes, prints, postcards, vinyl records, decorative items for the home, and original works from local artists.

Its comfy settee and low-slung armchairs, into which one’s body readily sinks, plus the light and airy but cozy ambience, make for a very pleasant environment in which to relax, unwind and shop. If you cannot find a gift in here, something special to treat yourself with or a Baltic souvenir, then there’s definitely something wrong with you.

Interior view of Svetlogorsk Telegraph art cafe

An introduction to two of Telegraph’s artists

https://vk.com/album55604070_101203993
Lilya Bogatko works in the field of applied arts, designing and decorating ceramic goods with stylised naturalistic images. She prefers to work in monochrome, consigning her line-drawn black motifs to high opacity white grounds on tableware and ornaments. Her distinctive illustrations, many of which have a gentle charm that could grace a children’s storybook, possess an ethereal quality. Indeed, a fair proportion of her subjects, be they man or beast, float above the earth; they take to the air with wings. When her subjects are not animals, real or mythological, or people literally raised to a higher level of spirituality ~ have wings will fly ~ her stock-in-trade motifs are replications of Kaliningrad landmarks, such as the now defunct and liquidated former House of Soviets, the refurbished Zalivino lighthouse overlooking the water’s edge of the Curonian Lagoon and Königsberg Cathedral.

Based in St Petersburg, Lilya is a regular visitor to Kaliningrad and the Kaliningrad region, from which she derives inspiration and consolidates her sales outlets.

https://vk.com/album-30057230_195486413
Pavel Timofeev has an arts and crafts workshop at Telegraph in Svetlogorsk, where he produces, among other things, leather purses and wallets, men’s and women’s leather bracelets with inscriptions on request, ornamented key rings and a range of fashion jewellery.

His speciality is selling watches with watch-face customisation. The face design can be made to order, with the option of a leather strap in traditional classic or novel styles. The straps can also be personalised.

For examples of Pavel’s watches, please refer to the carousel that appears below this profile:

The room opposite Telegraph’s ‘sitting room’ is its designated art gallery, a well-lit exhibition space with enough wall and floor capacity to showcase umpteen works of local artists. On the occasion of my visit, the art form most conspicuous was assemblages ~ 3D compositions created by taking disparate pieces of whatever it is the artist has scavenged and then arranging or assembling them on a backboard of some description so that the configuration that ensues presents itself as a pictorial image or, from impressions of the whole or its parts, invites interpretation.

Art exhibition assemblages Telegraph Svetlogorsk

Victor Ryabinin, our artist friend from Königsberg, was the man who introduced me to assemblages. His interest in the potential of this technique as a medium for symbolism had him unearthing whatever he could from the remains of Königsberg’s past and putting the pieces together so as to excite in the observer a quest to uncover meaning, either the artist’s or their own.

Since Victor was profoundly immersed in and also profoundly disturbed by the eradication of Königsberg, the assemblages that he built from the remnants of destruction often convey a personal sense of irredeemable loss, an inescapable sadness, a wistful but unrequited need for a less tragic end to the city in which he loved to live and which he loved. Victor travelled outside of Königsberg more often and further than Immanuel Kant, but he possibly left it less than Kant or anyone else for that matter.

By contrast, the assemblages gathered together under Telegraph’s roof evinced none of this solemnity. They danced a confident riot of bright, effusive colours, orchestrating lively, often comic, images and energising expressive shapes, some fondly reminiscent of the enchanting kind of illustrations adorning the pages of story books beloved of old-time children, others cleverly more obtuse or playfully cryptographic.

A coloiurful and fun assemblage for sale at Telegraph in Svetlogorsk

In vivacity of colour and their three-dimensional character the assemblages reminded me of the kind of shop-front sign boards popular in the Edwardian era, and there was much at work in their composition to insinuate a vintage charm. But the incorporation of parts taken from obsolete engines, metal handles, steel rivets, goggles and the like, plus paraphernalia of various kinds possessing mechanical provenance and rigged to suggest articulation, disclosed a contemporary steampunk influence. Intriguing, all bewitching and also fun to boot, take any one of these assemblages, hang them in your home and if until now you have felt that your home lacked a conversation piece, trust me when I tell you that this omission has been rectified.

Rock music guitar player assemblage at Telegraph in Svetlogorsk

In the Svetlogorsk we know today, cafes, bars and restaurants and places of interest to view and visit exist in appreciable numbers, but every once in a while one stands out in the crowd: Telegraph is that one.

It may have exchanged its wires and needles for coffee and for art, but the function of the historic building as a centre of communication lives on in its role as a meeting place, and the message that it telegraphs couldn’t be more accommodating: Sit a while, relax, enjoy a beverage and a piece of cake and let your sensibilities flow with the positive vibes that emanate from all that you see and all that you feel around you and from what can be bought and taken home, because the chances are that whatever it is that tickles your fancy in Telegraph, you will never find another like it; the chances are it will be unique.

After browsing, binging, basking and borrowing (borrowing from your friends to pay for the coffee and art, “I’ll see you alright, later …”), especially on those days when the craft-sellers’ stalls are active, when you finally head off home, you will say to yourself with satisfaction, what an enjoyable day I have had. I am so pleased to have visited Telegraph, and it’s all because of that Mick Hart, urging us to get up off of our … ah … to get off of the beaten track.

Telegraph ~ as described on Telegraph’s VK site:
https://vk.com/telegraph39

Telegraph ~ social and cultural space of Svetlogorsk.

Telegraph is a public and cultural space (a centre of urban communities), created by city residents for city residents.

We do not have a director, but we have a working group. We are a community of participants with common goals and values.

Telegraph is located on Ostrovskogo Street in house No. 3 (next to the Post Office).

There are four spaces here:

– a coffee shop (here you can try aromatic fresh coffee)
– a living room with an exhibition of works by craftsmen (you can buy local handmade souvenirs)
– a gallery (local artists hold exhibitions here)
– workshops (pottery and carpentry)
– a terrace and a lawn with the longest bench in the city.

Our space regularly hosts meetings of various communities. Any participant can propose an idea for their own project and find like-minded people who will provide the necessary support.

Telegraph exists outside of politics, outside of religion. We are open to new acquaintances/initiatives.

The Telegraph project team deals with city projects and development issues.

Co-working ‘Thoughts’ (Aptechnaya, 10); keys from the barista in the coffee shop; additional conditions by phone +79114839050

We look forward to your visit.

Summer in Kaliningrad and UK as it happened in 2024

Summer, almost but a memory

30 September 2024 ~ Summer in Kaliningrad and UK as it happened in 2024

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and
weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore
Edgar Allan Poe (1845)

As summer draws to a close, I made the mistake of accidently retorting, “It’s gone so fast that I hardly knew it was there!” To which came the curt and completely undeserving reply that it’s nothing short of marvellous that I knew it had arrived, the amount of time I spend locked away indoors immersed in antique and history books and spurning the light of day.

Hmm, as the collection of photographs displayed here show, the allegations against me are not entirely true.

It has also been said of me that on those few occasions when I do deign to go out, I am either surrounded by ‘junk’ or wallowing in history, locked out of the present for want of the past. Oh, and when I’m not doing that, I’m sitting and drinking beer.

Unfortunately, by some strange false-impression-giving mischievous quirk of fate, the visuals on this page would appear to lend uncanny credence to the case for the prosecution. I’ll let you, the jury, decide.

Summer in Kaliningrad 2024

Svetlogorsk Water Tower Summer in Kaliningrad region 2024

Seen, and scene, on a brilliant, bright-blue summer’s day, what is it? If I was 350 years younger, I would, in referencing the shorter structure, have taken one look at the small arched windows nestled within the roof and said, “an octopus.” It isn’t. It is, of course, the Baltic coastal town of Svetlogorsk’s principal landmark (even more so now since they knocked down the Hotel Russ). It is, in fact, a water tower: a rather splendiferous example compared to Britain’s concrete plinths, designed in 1908 by Otto Walter Kukuck when Svetlogorsk was German Rauschen. Constructed in the fairytale style of German Romanticism, the tower and its rotunda meld the key concepts of Art Nouveau with architectural features native to the Königsberg region. You used to be able to have mud baths in this building, but the last I heard it was closed to the public. If they opened it up for business again, I would, wouldn’t you?

Crouching down in a field of dandelions whilst wearing a dandelion headdress may not seem like everybody’s idea of fun, but if in a former life you believe yourself to have been a shaman, have passed through the Art Nouveau stage, dallied with Art Deco and have now thrown in your lot with metaphysics and the 5^th Dimension, then who can say what summer means to you?

Mick Hart outside boutique shop in Kaliningrad

Now here’s something that you don’t see that often, and why would you want to?: Me, armed with a paper bag not containing beer, standing outside of an avant-garde boutique, framed between some rather nice mauve and lettered heart-shaped balloons. We had, in fact, been out back, sitting at a table drinking coffee and eating biscuits, but the shop, which sells clothing and jewellery, as well as coffee, biscuits and snacks, is different enough in style and the items it has an offer to warrant a visit at any time of the year.

Villa Schmidt in summer in Kaliningrad 2024

The greater proportion of Königsberg was destroyed in the Second World War, but seek and ye shall find architectural gems of the former German city. The Villa Schmidt, seen here bathed in summer sunlight, is one such fine example. It was constructed as a two-storey home in the Art Nouveau/German Romanticism style in 1909 by the celebrated Königsberg architect Wilhelm Warrentrapp. The villa escaped the worst effects of the Battle for Königsberg but fell foul in the years succeeding the war of the con-block, asbestos sheet and bucket-of-cement mentality by which many buildings suffered for want of sensitive restoration. Fortunately, come the 21^st century, Villa Schmidt was acquired by someone who knew his restoration onions, and he has restored the property to its original spec.

Mick Hart expat in Kaliningrad with Egis

Fancy meeting you here! > I was doing the shopping > And I was walking the dog

A mid-summer party, during which Soviet Constructivism’s stalwart ‘Captain Codpiece’ takes a break from renovation to enjoy the company of friends and supporters.

Summer in Kaliningrad 2024 Mick Hart and Olga Hart

Above^ The technique worked superbly in the film Schindler’s List, so why not here? Enjoying a well-deserved beer (when is it not?) on a warm summer’s evening on the forecourt of a Kaliningrad bar.

Above> Nothing quite beats a late summer Baltic sunset. This one was captured this month (September 2024), location Zelenogradsk. I know it looks as though I took the photograph whilst running to the fallout shelter, but the truth of the matter is that although the sun was radiant, a stiff breeze had sneakily come from nowhere, forcing me into the nearest bar, where I continued to watch them both go down, my beer and the evening sun.

Below> This second sunset, another belter, made its way into my camera lens one late June evening from the new pier in Svetlogorsk. No wonder artists, like Victor Ryabinin, look upon this region with inspirational awe and attempt to capture the feeling using paint palette, brush and canvas.

Olga Hart sun worshipping in Svetlogorsk

The message is the sun is out, the skies are blue, I am celebrating, how about you? I did think of joining in, but there was quite a lot of seagulls about and, well, knowing my luck …

Summer in the UK 2024

Walsingham where history lives in every street

Flint cottages and pan-tile roofs of a time-honoured street in the village of Walsingham, home of ancient religious shrines and throughout the middle ages a major pilgrimage destination. Both my brother and myself have made many pilgrimages to Walsingham, but since our last foray the chip shop had closed and on our recent visit, we abstained from visiting either of the two pubs, forsaking beer for something that was long overdue, a cup or two apiece of holy water. Just to confuse the pilgrims, and those people whose sole (not ‘soul’) interest is fish ‘n’ chips’, Little Walsingham (there is a larger one, too), is bigger than Great Walsingham, and it is to Little Walsingham the first pilgrims wended and wended again in the 20^th century when the act of pilgrimaging was duly revived. Walsingham stands as the epicentre of North Norfolk’s historic and spiritual soul, without a visit to which no trip to the region would be complete.

Below: Scenes on a sunny day at Old Hunstanton. As luck would have it, we were entertained by a rare display of the RNLI hovercraft in action, although this photo captures the moment before the action took place.

Old Hunstanton beach and cliffs, summer of 2024

Mick Hart with vintage candlestick telephone

You can’t have enough clutter!
“Hello, operator, could you transport me back to the 1920s as quickly as possible, thank you.”

Interior of The Bell Inn, Finedon, Northamptonshire

A number of pubs in England claim to be the oldest licensed premises in the country, but you have to admit that the Bell Inn, at Finedon in Northamptonshire, looks the part, and supporters of the claim’s veracity are only too willing to draw your attention to a license granted to the inn in 1042 by Edward the Confessor’s wife, Queen Edith. The pub personifies the ancient and traditional, including some of its drinkers.

MIck Hart enjoys a pint at The Bell Inn, Finedon, Northamptonshire

Below: The tides out and the boats are grounded. A typical view across the North Norfolk mudflats and salt marshes.

Boats and high tide on North Norfolk mudflats

Gallery above: The small, unassuming, but atmospheric village of Burnham
Thorpe in North Norfolk is, as you were just about to tell me, the birthplace of one of England’s most famous naval heroes, Horatio Nelson, 1st Viscount Nelson. Here we have a snapshot of the village church where Nelson’s father, Mr Nelson, by all
accounts, sometimes known as Edmund, was the vicar from 1750 to 1802. The
photo was taken from the forecourt of the village pub (where else!), the
eponymous Lord Nelson. The last picture in the gallery is me sitting behind Nelson
drinking a pint of Norfolk’s finest, Wherry. And (below decks), there I am again across the field from the pub standing next to Burnham Thorpe’s very own Nelson’s Column ~ a tad shorter than the one that used to stand in Trafalgar Square, London, before they replaced it with a figural composition of a rainbow dinghy bristling with trans-migrants. (If only Nelson was alive today. What an excellent Minister of Immigration he’d make.) From a distance, through the window of the pub (where else!), this Nelson looks as though he has been cast from bronze, but once you’ve staggered over to him you find, in fact, that some enterprising fellow-me-lad has carved him out of a tree trunk. England expects that every man will do his duty … someone did.

Mick Hart with wood carving of Lord Nelson, Burnham Thorpe

Dusk settling over the Norfolk marshes as seen from the White Horse pub, Brancaster Staithe

Above: Dusk descends over the marshland coastline of Norfolk, an area of outstanding natural beauty, and across the carpark of the vibrant White Horse pub, a pub of outstanding beers of natural beauty, situated in Brancaster Staithe.

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.