Tag Archives: Valdau Castle Kaliningrad Oblast

It Happened at Waldau Castle Kaliningrad

A night to remember

Published: 13 July 2021 ~ It Happened at Waldau Castle Kaliningrad

Take a 750-year-old castle, a friendly curator-family from central Russia, an impressive and well-stocked museum, two classic Volgas and a vintage Hanomag car, a guided tour by a youthful tour guide better informed than Tacitus, home-baked bread the delights of which I have never tasted before made by a child baker, a female troupe in full traditional German dress demonstrating Prussian folk dancing, first-class quality beer and cognac, a rousing speech by our friend Grozmani about the book that took him 29 years to research and write, an opera concert performed in the open air by professional opera singers, a grand finale supper with large iced cakes, and what you have is one of the most unusual and interesting birthday parties that I have ever had the good fortune to have been invited to.

The curious location of this event, to which we were driven in style in our friend’s, Arthur’s, classic Volga, was Waldau Castle, thirty minutes or so by car from Kaliningrad.

We had called at the castle at the end of the Kaliningrad Retro Car Club’s rally a couple of weeks before, on which occasion I had been attracted to the castle on many levels but immediately by the feel of what it was and what you would not expect it to be.

It Happened at Waldau Castle Kaliningrad

No sooner had we passed through the gate into the castle grounds than I was smitten with an enveloping sense of calm, a convalescent repose, which had it been a churchyard or a monastery would have excited no further response but, given the purpose for which it had been constructed and by which it had lived out most of its life, fortification, seemed oddly at variance with its military biography.

My first impression had been no aberration, for the same singularity stepped out to greet me when we passed through the castle gate this evening. There was no challenge, no rattle of sabres or priming of firearms, in fact nothing to authenticate its militaristic legacy, only an inviting, calling, sense of calm, the kind that those who seek and who are fortunate to find might speak of in terms of sanctuary.

We had pulled up in our Volga not at the front of the house but a short distance from it and parked at the side of the drive. Although the castle’s surviving principal building was visible from where we were, it was yet indistinct, only a glimpse of its tall, grey walls asserted itself through the wooded area that lay between us, the tree trunks and branches obscuring whilst the leafy canopy overhead cast a thoughtful but not unpleasing shade over the tranquil prospect and introduced a welcome coolness in which refuge could be taken, for although it was early evening the heat of the day had not yet abated.

Set in the middle of this entreating copse stands a solid monument of large, rectangular proportions surmounted by an apex top. It is dedicated to those who fell in the First World War. This is a German monument which has on both of its narrower ends an incised representation of the imperial military cross and along the top edge of the monument’s greater width words of commemoration.

There is something so touchingly melancholic about this monument immersed within the shade of Castle Waldau’s trees. I detect in it an attitude of self-consciousness, as if it plainly understands that whilst symbolism is timeless, the land on which it is stationed, and for which the men it pays tribute to gave their lives, is now but a point of historical record and has lost all claim to anything else.

Be this as it may, I could find nothing in the calm that I have already described to suggest the slightest trace of rancour, just a gentle, quiet, contentment. So, if there are ghosts in the grounds of Waldau Castle, you are less likely to hear them rattling chains than to catch them occasionally sighing.

It Happened at Waldau Castle Kaliningrad

The path that leads away from the German memorial led us in a straight line to the front door of the castle. We stood on the opposite side of the sweeping driveway taking in the Teutonic might with which all German buildings of a certain age and stature in this part of the world are redoubtably invested. Bold, solid and, apart from the section of the building devoted to the doorway and its encasement, austere, the structure embodies typical if mythical German virtues and has an impregnability about it that perceptibly transcends bricks and mortar, effortlessly overshadowing the knowledge and laws of mere physics.

The only concession that the architect of this building has made to the decorative lies in the perpendicular that projects, surrounds and extends vertically from the main entrance, a feature which supports two sets of simple Gothic windows, three in parallel, both sets incorporating tracery and both arranged within a rectangular oriel supported by a stepped, pyramidical corbel. Enrichment takes the form of a small number of various blind, recessed arches, with the oriel culminating in a crenelated cornice and the perpendicular typically concluded as a broad stepped gable, the last horizontal platform of which makes the perfect base for Mrs Stork and her nest.

Waldau Castle Gothic features — **Two photographs (see above) depicting Waldau Castle entrance and the Gothic nature of the embellishing features**

To the right of the building, orienting from the position of observer standing at the front of the castle, is a second three-storey building connected to the principal by a high wall. This second building houses the castle museum.

**The museum at Castle Waldau, Kaliningrad region, Russia**

Both the castle and its grounds have passed through innumerable transitions in its 750-year history and no better appreciation of this can be found than by visiting the on-site museum, which occupies the cellar, ground and second floors of the surviving wing of the castle.

It is impressive in its collection of artefacts, impressive in its layout, impressive in its inventive displays and impressive in the past that clings to it in every tread of its ancient steps and every nook and cranny. It is so impressive that it needs to be covered in its own article, so we will put it on hold for the time being and revisit it at a later date. Ghosts and God willing!

It Happened at Waldau Castle Kaliningrad

In the wall that connects the two remaining parts of Waldau Castle, there is a small, low archway, the kind in historic buildings that must be walked through in order that the apparition that you will eventually become can follow in the footsteps of those that once like you were physical forms. It is truly a time-honoured ritual, in every sense of the word, but do not forget to lower your head!

On the other side of this portal, we found ourselves on a piece of wild ground, on a slight eminence looking over more ground of an even wilder nature: lush, green, overgrown and silent. This is the last step on the road to complete tranquility that you would want to take of your own volition. We ambled along, Olga, our friend Inara and I, stopping now and again to move fragments of brick with our shoes or to pick up a piece of pottery, deep in the thought of moments past.

The back of the castle is not in the best of health. There is no denying its solid state, but the wall rendering has given way in places and the castle’s eyes, the many windows spread out across its awesome width and height, are covered in a mess of makeshift cataracts. I cannot remember when, if ever, I last beheld such an incongruous and anomalous sight, in which doors of all shapes, sizes, makes and periods have been requisitioned for use as wooden blinds to eye-patch empty window sockets. But work proceeds, and as Waldau Castle knows, possibly better than anyone, nothing remains the same for long or forever.

Returning to the front of the castle was a lot like having swapped Leonard Cohen for VE Day. The vintage cars had been lined up on the opposite side of the drive to the castle entrance and the party guests were busy assembling in the middle of the driveway.

A troupe of ladies all dressed in period Prussian costume were about to demonstrate the art of traditional Prussian dancing. The music and footwork in clogs set the party spirit in motion, but before getting down to the serious business of sampling the beer and cognac, we were about to be given a guided tour of Waldau Castle’s ground floor rooms.

Waldau Castle, Russia. Typical Prussian folk dancing

On the other side of Waldau Castle’s entrance sits a great hall, which owes its present restored condition to the hard work and volunteer commitment of one family, the Sorokins, whose tender loving care can be seen and felt everywhere. Observing and appreciating is one thing, but it is quite another to have to clean and repair acres of wooden floorboards, bricks by the thousands and dusty, peeling plasterwork and have to construct hefty, wooden, external doors and massy window frames when by trade you are not a carpenter but are the sort of valuable person who can turn your hand to anything.

When my wife mentioned this feat to the head of the Sorokin family, he modestly confirmed, “No, I am not a carpenter by trade, but I believe that everyone has an innate knowledge that they rarely ever use, and if necessitated can turn their hand to anything.” I would like to have concurred, and I did note the professionalism of his castle doors and windows, but I also recalled in secret embarrassment how, back in the 1970s, my one foray into DIY had resulted in the humiliating experience of witnessing the wall-mounted can opener that I had screwed to the wall lasting for less than a day before it fell off ~ and so I had my doubts. As the saying goes, “Horses for courses.”

In the process of describing Waldau Castle it is next to impossible not to resort to words like strong, solid, robust, but it is only when you get inside that you are able to fully appreciate the exactitude with which these attributions apply. The windows, sitting as they do at the front of broad, deep brick arches, reveal the thickness of the walls to be at least three feet, and the quality of the brickwork, in all its restored glory, leaves you in little doubt that endurance and longevity have always been the castle’s watchwords.

But restoration in terms of visitor attraction is not confined to structural work. Also to be considered is, for want of a better word, the inclusion of suitable ‘props’, the seeking out, acquiring and emplacing of interior décor and household items best able to create a medieval atmosphere. Central to this objective, and situated in the main hall of the castle, are two suits of armour ~ a matching pair (I did not stop to check if it was ‘his’ and ‘hers’), conjoined with wall-mounted hunting trophies, intricate tapestries and a ceiling pendant made from a heavy wooden wheel entirely surrounded by antler horns. I’ll have the full Hermann Göring baronial hunting-lodge works, please!

Olg Hart at Waldau Castle — Olga Hart with tapestry at Waldau Castle

Wall thickness Waldau Castle — Olga Hart with tapestry at Waldau Castle

The tapestries, which are as colourful and imaginative as they are intricate, are made to order for the Sorokin family from specific patterns that they provide to a specialist company. Now that my wife had seen these, I wondered how long I would have to wait. It was not long: “I really want to buy one of these!” Olga exhaled.

Our tour guide was the oldest son of the Sorokin family, who not only had an incredible knowledge of the history of the castle, but was fluent, articulate and completely unphased when it came to holding court to so many adult strangers. My Russian gets better every day (I boast ye not), but my present knowledge was no match for the speed and confidence with which this young man discharged his verbal duty.

Our guide led us from the main hall into an adjoining room. There are no corridors, at least between rooms, in this part of Waldau Castle, thus access to the three great rooms at ground level is obtained on a door-to-room basis.

The second room, though large, was of smaller dimensions than the first, but as with the former had undergone extensive renovation and as with the former was work in progress.

From here we were taken into the kitchens, where, at the far end of the room, two hefty brick-built ovens encased in rusting white metal testified to the gargantuan task of cooking meals on a banquet scale. The ovens were quiet today and the castle interior cool, but one can imagine how unbearably hot and sweaty this environment would once have been when full of cooks and servants and the ovens in full swing.

In this room there was another oven. Tall, slim, far more elegant than the ones I have described, made of ebonised cast iron, with a succession of white porcelain knobs protruding from rows and layers of doors, this oven was of German manufacture. It had a German precision-build quality about it that was undeniably superior, and I should not imagine for one moment that anyone among our company was in the least surprised to learn that this fine example of industrial German craftsmanship, which is almost 170 years old, is as functional today as it was on the day it was made.

Antique German Stove — **Not a grandfather clock!**

Two other features in this kitchen that caught my eye were the heavy wooden serving hatch in the wall to the back of me and a nineteenth century iron ceiling column, with an intricately wrought Corinthian capital.

Whilst our young tour guide was fulfilling his duty, a man entered the room who was immediately recognisable to us. It was our friend Ivan. At first, I thought what a coincidence, and in a way I was right. I knew that Ivan was renovating an old German building of his own, but I had not realised that it was just up the road from Waldau Castle. And a second coincidence, it was his birthday, too.

We were greeting each other just as the tour guide was explaining about the intrinsic dangers of old building restoration. Apparently, in the process of their labours the Sorokin family had uncovered Schweinfurt paint, or Emerald Green as it was generically known.

Emerald Green was an extremely popular colour in the early nineteenth century. It was used in paint, wallpapers and a number of other pigmented and dyed products, and it was used extensively. But whilst most of us know about the dangers of friable asbestos, less people are acquainted with the fact that many old green paints and green-coloured wallpapers, those made from a compound in which arsenic was one of the main ingredients, could, did and can kill. Highly toxic when it was produced, the dust from this arsenic derivative continues to pose a serious threat to health and retains its lethal potential.

Right on cue, no sooner had our tour guide apprised our fellow tourers of this warning from the past, than a playful poltergeist or two, decided to shake the ceiling. A small amount of dust descended, enough to make our company beat a hasty retreat.

In the first room, where we had now re-assembled, I had noticed earlier that opposite the main entrance there was a carved, Gothic screen in wood, which, on closer investigation, I discovered was employed to separate the area in which we were standing from a corridor that ran the entire length of the back of the building. This was an unusual arrangement, at least it was not one that I was familiar with in the large historic houses and castles that I had visited in England. In the wall of the corridor, a few feet back from the screen, I also observed a great wooden staircase that could be closed off, if need be, by two incredibly large and heavy doors.

We were not privy to this section of the castle today or to its upper storeys, but I hope we may be allowed to explore at a later date.

There are many things that can inculcate a thirst, and history is one of them. A table in the main hall had been laid out with food, bottles of beer and cognac and, on the word ‘go’, it was every man for himself (I have no idea what the women were doing?). To accompany my cognac, I chose a large, flat, round bread roll, and was glad that I did. I cannot recall tasting bread half as delicious as this. The second surprise was that the baker of this delicacy turned out to be a young boy, the youngest son of the Sorokin family. When Olga praised him for the bread, he threw his arms around her and thanked her for her kind words, saying that it was the nicest thing that anyone had said to him. I endorsed her praise, adding Königsbacker beware!

Our friend Yury and I were in full flow about the quality of the beers when, in true Russian party fashion, it was announced that we all had to congregate outside on the drive to do something? When I discovered what that something was, an attempt by the hosts to dragoon us into a dance routine, I swiftly excused myself. Our friend Ivan followed my lead, but Yury stepped up to the challenge, and I was only too happy to play the part of photographer as he was twizzled around the tarmacadam.

**Yury Grozmani demonstrating the art of Prussian folk dancing**; **and above, the talented boy who bakes the bread**

We had not long been back inside, and not too far from the table, when a second announcement was made. It was now time to witness an operatic performance, which would take place on the granite stone courtyard at the front of the Sorokin house.

It would be dishonest of me to claim that I have any love or affection for opera, but, by the same token, it would be no less dishonest if I did not admit that I enjoyed this performance immensely. The Sorokin family’s house made a superb backdrop, the large open window with wrought-iron lattice work emitted the piano accompaniment perfectly and, from where we were sitting, gave us a first-rate view of the pianist at work.

I marvelled at the fact that the performers required no artificial amplification systems to project their voices, which were either remarkably well toned, aided by the acoustics of the building that lay behind them, or both.

Before the performance commenced, our friend, Yury Grozmani, delivered a speech as requested by the host, about the book he had researched and written on the vintage cars of Königsberg. Yury is what you would call a natural speech maker and, as he admitted himself, once fired up it was difficult for him to come back down.

Yury Grozmani makes a speech at Waldau Castle

Yury delivers a speech about the book that he worked on for 29 years

When both performances reached their respective conclusions, the tables were rearranged and laid out for supper. I refrained from indulging in the big iced cakes but was quite pleased that we had enough time and enough cognac left for one or two for the road before being chauffeured home in style by Arthur in his Volga.

Essential details (not of the party, but of Waldau Castle):

Waldau Castle
Kaliningradskaya Ulitsa, 20
Nizov’e,
Kaliningrad Oblast, 238313, Russia

Tel: 007 (963) 299-85-43

Opening hours
7 days a week ~ 10am~5pm

How to get there
By car, taxi, bus. The approximate journey time is 30 minutes

Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021

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.

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.

Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021 navigation charts

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.

Mick Hart, Olga Hart & Yury Grozmani in 1956 Pobeda car, Kaliningrad — **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.

Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021. Dashboard 1956 Pobeda.

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.

Mick Hart presented with a large cake in Gvardeysk, Kaliningrad Oblast. — **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.

May 2021: Vintage cars of the Auto Retro Club Kaliningrad line up in Guardesque. — **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.

Vintage Soviet cars, 29 May 2021, Valdau Castle, Kaliningrad Oblast — **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.

Staff in traditional German costume cheer on vintage Soviet cars at Valdau Castle, Kaliningrad Oblast — **Greetings from Valdau Castle ~ Kaliningrad Vintage Car Rally 2021**

Mick Hart & Olga Hart at Valdau Castle, 29 May 2021 — **Mick 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!