St Petersburg: Our New Home Sweet Home
Happy International Women's Day! In Russia, this is a federal holiday, and a day for men to prepare meals for their beloved, traffic cops to hand out roses instead of tickets, and for Russian TV to play “Gone With the Wind”. Marina tells me “Clara Tsetkin” and Rosa Luxemborg originated the holiday, and this was just confirmed by the evening news (although I had to ask Marina to repeat “Tsetkin” a dozen times, and finally to write it). I'm not sure if Rosa originated the holiday, or if it was orignated in her memory (she was executed in the US with her husband for alleged espionage for the USSR) and I suspect her colleague's name is closer to “Clarice Atkin”. Of course I may be mixing this story up with that of the American woman (either Clara Barton, who founded the Red Cross, or maybe Susan B. Anthony?) who designated May 1 as a day of peace, which was celebrated throughout the former Soviet Bloc. In any case, the Int'l Women's Day is noted throughout the for mer USSR, but unknown in the states.
This letter is another segment in what I hope will me a more regular mailing (if you had a kopeck for every time you heard that...) letting you all know about my Russian life. It's also a preliminary form of a future article and/or book about such. I could entitle it “News From Lake Ladoga”, in respect to our proximity to the body of water that when frozen during WWII provided an ice-road lifeline to St. Petersburg during a 900-day blockade of the city by Nazi forces, and ultimately the path for the Red Army to break the blockade in 1943. My town, Vsevolozhsk, is along the “Road of Life”, the main road between St. P and the lake.
In January Marina and I purchased a 2-bedroom, 44.8 sq. meter apartment (moderate size by Russian standards) in this small city of about 50,000 located 30 km ENE of St. Petersburg. We were issued individual deeds, assigning us each ½ of the physical space- due to a relatively new law that allows foreigners to own property in Russia. The could result in certain awkard situations, as in the case of Marina's brother's in-laws: they divorced, and the court officially granted each of them their fair share of the space in the same apartment they shared as a couple. Makes for an awkward tea time.
We've been busy furnishing the place, and we've remodeled our bedroom, thanks in part to ideas from the TV show “School of Remodeling”. We tore up the original floor and a subsequent layer of linoleum (Soviet linoleum was fairly durable, but came in one, narrow size- and tended to shrink, leaving each room with a huge crack in the floor where two sheets joined), gaining about 10 centimeters of heighth- enough to make me feel claustrophobic now in the other rooms. We cemented the concrete walls near the ceiling- huge cracks exposed the original re-bar, and a previous resident's attempt to repair them had crumbled away along with the cute rabbit wallpaper as we removed it. There were no noticable drafts through the walls, (only through the windows, see below) and the test of time has proved that this building settled fairly smoothly, so we had no reason to be concerned, and our new cement seems solid enough. We put up some nice wallpaper (237 rubles (exchange rate has been hovering around 28 rubles/dollar) per 5 sq. m. roll), installed laminate flooring (67 r. per ¼ sq. m board), new curtains (200 r. per meter) which Marina sewed herself), and a decent chandelier (1350 r.) I'm now proficient at Russian wiring- which at 220 v. is no small task. Thick aluminum wire was the old standard- and it breaks fairly easily: I re-wired one lamp three times before I realized the problem was a broken wire 5 inches towards the wall, undetected in its plastic insulation. Marina's mother was impressed- more with me than her very competent daughter- that we did all this ourselves without hiring anyone.
Next step: modernizing the windows. Much of the wood used in Soviet apartments was apparently installed while still green, and thus shrank- creating very drafty windows: during a -30° C. spell, it got down to 12° C. inside, despite continuously working radiators. We taped the windows with a masking tape specially sold for the purpose, and it never dipped below 19 C. during the next spell. Average room temperature (at about -5 to -10° avg outside temp. this winter) has been a comfortable 21-22° C (still chilly for many of my southern relatives, I know!)
Our 1974 “Brezhnevka” apartment building is a relatively small cement behemoth-a 5 story building with 5 separate entrances- according to the planners, short enough to not need an elevator or an internal chute for garbage disposal. We're on the fourth floor, and the exercise is good for us- and the dumpster isn't too far away, on the way to the market and bus stop. There were a few standard building types used in this region during the Soviet era- 14-story narrow brickfaces and 9-story, “ships” with up to 10 (or more) separate entrances( yes, about the size and shape of QE II). These tend to be “L” or “C” shaped, the larger ones with an arc midway through to avoid having to walk all the way around the building (and when I say around the building- I mean AROUND the building!) Newer buildings are prettier, with more color in the outer walls, cute roofs, curves, and in general more architecturally interesting features than Soviet era rectangles. The catch with these apartments is that they are sold by the developers several years in advance- often before groundbreaking- and it's not uncommon to see a few year's delay, or worse, a bankrupt construction company and a halted project. We looked at an apartment in a recently completed building (if a potential owner does not pay in full in advance, they lose their rights, and we were “in the right place at the right time”). New tenants are provided with the mandated working toilet and stove, but not much else: bare concrete floors, walls, and wires hanging where outlets and other fixtures should be. We were unimpressed by the nearby first building built by the same company, about ten years old, but already with cracking cement siding, fading paint, and generally un-pretty. We also heard from new apartment owners that newly installed windows were also very drafty- and one family already inquired into replacements.
Our building entrance, shared by 15 apartments, is due for a renovation- which is purpotedly completed every 10 years, with a major capital remodel promised every 50. Two rubles/month per square meter are collected from each apartment to fund these renovations. Russian apartments are mostly privatized by now, (privatization is a free process until the end of this year) but the buildings themselves are still under the authority of local regions. Word has it that our building is scheduled for renovation this summer, so we will not yet rush out to by new paint for our landing, which desparately needs it, as well as new tiling.
We did however cement in a hole in the wall near the doorway, which was intentionally made to allow pets out to the street, and strays in to eat what some neighbors left for them. This is easier than in sounds, since during the construction process, it was common to leave a 2x4 foot whole in the wall, which was bricked in at the last moment- so it's a matter of finding the weakest brick to knock out. Marina and I were of course fearful that strays and new litters would increasingly be a problem come spring, so we had put in a request for the city to fill in the hole – and got the hopeful response “They haven't filled it in yet? I'll put another note on his desk.” Time elapsed, so we made our move. Our first attempt with leftover slow-dry cement was not successful- the brick we cemented in either fell out, or was pushed out (by cat/s or one of our resident babushkas who fed the cats). We were afraid we'd made an enemy, but a few days later at a tenant's meeting called to discuss installation of a new secured-entrance intercom door, it turned out most residents were vocally against the cats, and several other residents had also tried to fill in the hole to no avail. 14 out of 15 residents agreed to split the cost for the door, about 1650 r. each, with the 15th contributing for half the amount of the door without the intercom. These deaf residents had no use for the intercom, and there is no Russian ADA to assure accessibility for citizens with special needs.
After the secure door was put in , Marina and I purchased some quick-dry cement (84 r. /5 kg bag) and did the job past midnight, during the Russian re-run of the Oscars. As the cement strengthens with each passing day, we figure the chances of someone knocking a new hole are decreasingly less. The immediate benefit was improved cleaning service: Each entrance is assigned a cleaning person, to sweep and clean according to a posted schedule. Ours had told residents that she would not waste her time so long as stray cats were allowed in, and sure enough, the door went in on Sunday, we filled in the hole Monday evening, and Tuesday morning we could see a real “clean sweep”.
We are very happy with our home. We had ruled out living in St. Petersburg proper from the start, to avoid the noise of city life. Vsevolozhsk is big enough to have a character – and a Lenin statue - of its own. It's 25 minutes (and 32 r.) by commuter van, 40 by electric train (27 r.) and 45 minutes by city bus to St. Petersburg: close enough for frequent excursions to town. Our view is to the south, and we get color from the rising sun above a nearby 5-story, while the two adjacent 14-stories shade us from direct morning light. All day the sun crests above the 9-story small ship directly across the courtyard from us, and eventually sets below a distant 5-story. This should supply enough sunlight for Marina's plans to grow flowers, herbs, and hopefully cucumbers on our balcony- and I suggested she try cherry tomatoes as well. Our courtyard, the size of a pee-wee football field, has a playground, pathways on the diagonal, and is strewn with an assortment of trees (I only recognize birch in the winter, time and leaves will indicate the other species) that we hope will soon bloom with pretty buds and foliage. They are already home to a family of small red-breasted songbirds that Marina is fond of. In the meantime, winter hoar frost, due to continual sub-freezing temeratures and light precipitation, paints branches and eyebrows with a pretty white Jack frost. When we looked at the place, I was attracted most to the layout of the courtyard, and was happy not to find a view of the road, or of an adjacant building, which is more common.
We're getting acquainted with shops and services in town. Our best finds so far are farm-fresh sour cream and milk, and twice so far I've found still-warm, fresh bread at local farms local store. We're still working on finding the best produce- many local farmers offer potatoes, beets, carrots, and cabbage from their own trucks from cold storage, but this late in winter we're finding some rot from some sources. Like the US, produce of all varieties are available year round in the supermarket, but not necessarily very fresh or tasty ones. Recently I made the rounds, and got a jar (bring your own, or purchase a plastic container/2 r.) of 30% sour cream from the White Nights Market (60 r./kg), 3.6% milk from the Soviet-era milk wagon (15 r./liter , BYO bottle), and stood in line at the produce truck for some decent looking potatoes at a low 12 r./kg and some peanut-size potatoes for a bargain 5 r. Fortunately, they were out of bags, so I had to make an emergency run to the supermarket for plastic bags (generally sold for 2-3 r.). I put my hand on a package of bread (Russian bread is still a fantastic bargain- 9 r. 50 kopecks for this luscious loaf of light rye.) as I passed - and my heart skipped a few beats as I felt the heat from the just-delivered piping-hot bread. Salivating, I made a dash to grab some “young bull” pielmieni (Russian ravioli) and kvas (a non-alcoholic fermented bread drink I've come to love) that I also like at this store, back outside for 5 kg of potatoes, and made the 5-minute walk home in time to enjoy a slice of bread from the middle of the loaf, still with a few degrees of heat radiating from deep inside. Oh, joy. I was spoiled on oven-fresh bread in Kamchatka – Marina worked at a store that had its own bakery, and the first bread came in at 9 PM as she ended her shift. Now I just have to determine the delivery schedule here.
09 March
Marina started a new job today at a local uniform manufacturing company. This is up her alley- she is a certified seamstress. Denis, the 40-something company owner, literally lives at work, along with his wife/administrator and daughter. The office boasts a computer-generated banner asking “What's the point of being, if you don't work to make the world better?”. This fits right in with the Soviet-era slogans still on the walls of the facility: “Glory to the Soviet People!” on the outside, and “May each of you reap the harvests of your work every day!” painted in the hallway. Denis is also the designer- and he's full of ideas that Marina is excited about. Marina boasts the ability to simply look at a design and re-create it, but feels she lacks the ability to design something new- so this could be an interesting partnership. The company offers “full social benefits”- which include health insurance, pension, 9 days sick leave, and a month annual vacation. This is the law, but easily avoided by many employers. Incidentally, the state offers unique maternity leave benefits: a small monthly stipend based on income after the 7th month of pregnancy thru the 3rd year after birth, and a one-time payment upon birth. The business occupies three or four rooms of a former technical college, which is shared by several small production firms. The 50-something manager of the adjacent furniture factory in his simple blue suit and tie fits the image of a typical Soviet Manager.
Marina is also learning to use her new sewing machine (she needed a model that offered a certain type of buttonhole, not offered on the basic models), and she'll continue her private business as a seamstress- offering both new women's clothing and repairs/resizing to old clothes. The next step is to take advantage of a 4-month, no-interest loan for a hemmer (credit always existed in the USSR, but a for-profit version is rapidly growing in Russia- with a brand new federal credit agency- horrors.)
As for me, I'm waiting for my official work papers to come through- this should take anywhere between 3-6 months. With a concrete job offer, I can get a temporary work permit, but this is expensive (5000 r.) and can take up to three months as well – so the official advice is to wait for the permanent permit. In the meantime, as I've settled into our new home, I'll be writing, and soliciting a publisher. I'm already in the process of transcribing, editing and annotating my great-great Uncle Eli's memoirs of his experiences while held captive in Soviet Russia immediately after the Revolution. He had been in Russia on business (wrong place at the right time!) in October 1917, was denied an exit visa, compelled to work in a Soviet bureaucracy, jailed for 6 months after an escape attempt, and finally escaped in October 1920. (Get me Spielberg- anyone?) I'm also pursing teaching opportunites here, and Marina and I would like to continue with a tourism/bed and breakfast business that we flirted with in Kamchatka.
This letter is another segment in what I hope will me a more regular mailing (if you had a kopeck for every time you heard that...) letting you all know about my Russian life. It's also a preliminary form of a future article and/or book about such. I could entitle it “News From Lake Ladoga”, in respect to our proximity to the body of water that when frozen during WWII provided an ice-road lifeline to St. Petersburg during a 900-day blockade of the city by Nazi forces, and ultimately the path for the Red Army to break the blockade in 1943. My town, Vsevolozhsk, is along the “Road of Life”, the main road between St. P and the lake.
In January Marina and I purchased a 2-bedroom, 44.8 sq. meter apartment (moderate size by Russian standards) in this small city of about 50,000 located 30 km ENE of St. Petersburg. We were issued individual deeds, assigning us each ½ of the physical space- due to a relatively new law that allows foreigners to own property in Russia. The could result in certain awkard situations, as in the case of Marina's brother's in-laws: they divorced, and the court officially granted each of them their fair share of the space in the same apartment they shared as a couple. Makes for an awkward tea time.
We've been busy furnishing the place, and we've remodeled our bedroom, thanks in part to ideas from the TV show “School of Remodeling”. We tore up the original floor and a subsequent layer of linoleum (Soviet linoleum was fairly durable, but came in one, narrow size- and tended to shrink, leaving each room with a huge crack in the floor where two sheets joined), gaining about 10 centimeters of heighth- enough to make me feel claustrophobic now in the other rooms. We cemented the concrete walls near the ceiling- huge cracks exposed the original re-bar, and a previous resident's attempt to repair them had crumbled away along with the cute rabbit wallpaper as we removed it. There were no noticable drafts through the walls, (only through the windows, see below) and the test of time has proved that this building settled fairly smoothly, so we had no reason to be concerned, and our new cement seems solid enough. We put up some nice wallpaper (237 rubles (exchange rate has been hovering around 28 rubles/dollar) per 5 sq. m. roll), installed laminate flooring (67 r. per ¼ sq. m board), new curtains (200 r. per meter) which Marina sewed herself), and a decent chandelier (1350 r.) I'm now proficient at Russian wiring- which at 220 v. is no small task. Thick aluminum wire was the old standard- and it breaks fairly easily: I re-wired one lamp three times before I realized the problem was a broken wire 5 inches towards the wall, undetected in its plastic insulation. Marina's mother was impressed- more with me than her very competent daughter- that we did all this ourselves without hiring anyone.
Next step: modernizing the windows. Much of the wood used in Soviet apartments was apparently installed while still green, and thus shrank- creating very drafty windows: during a -30° C. spell, it got down to 12° C. inside, despite continuously working radiators. We taped the windows with a masking tape specially sold for the purpose, and it never dipped below 19 C. during the next spell. Average room temperature (at about -5 to -10° avg outside temp. this winter) has been a comfortable 21-22° C (still chilly for many of my southern relatives, I know!)
Our 1974 “Brezhnevka” apartment building is a relatively small cement behemoth-a 5 story building with 5 separate entrances- according to the planners, short enough to not need an elevator or an internal chute for garbage disposal. We're on the fourth floor, and the exercise is good for us- and the dumpster isn't too far away, on the way to the market and bus stop. There were a few standard building types used in this region during the Soviet era- 14-story narrow brickfaces and 9-story, “ships” with up to 10 (or more) separate entrances( yes, about the size and shape of QE II). These tend to be “L” or “C” shaped, the larger ones with an arc midway through to avoid having to walk all the way around the building (and when I say around the building- I mean AROUND the building!) Newer buildings are prettier, with more color in the outer walls, cute roofs, curves, and in general more architecturally interesting features than Soviet era rectangles. The catch with these apartments is that they are sold by the developers several years in advance- often before groundbreaking- and it's not uncommon to see a few year's delay, or worse, a bankrupt construction company and a halted project. We looked at an apartment in a recently completed building (if a potential owner does not pay in full in advance, they lose their rights, and we were “in the right place at the right time”). New tenants are provided with the mandated working toilet and stove, but not much else: bare concrete floors, walls, and wires hanging where outlets and other fixtures should be. We were unimpressed by the nearby first building built by the same company, about ten years old, but already with cracking cement siding, fading paint, and generally un-pretty. We also heard from new apartment owners that newly installed windows were also very drafty- and one family already inquired into replacements.
Our building entrance, shared by 15 apartments, is due for a renovation- which is purpotedly completed every 10 years, with a major capital remodel promised every 50. Two rubles/month per square meter are collected from each apartment to fund these renovations. Russian apartments are mostly privatized by now, (privatization is a free process until the end of this year) but the buildings themselves are still under the authority of local regions. Word has it that our building is scheduled for renovation this summer, so we will not yet rush out to by new paint for our landing, which desparately needs it, as well as new tiling.
We did however cement in a hole in the wall near the doorway, which was intentionally made to allow pets out to the street, and strays in to eat what some neighbors left for them. This is easier than in sounds, since during the construction process, it was common to leave a 2x4 foot whole in the wall, which was bricked in at the last moment- so it's a matter of finding the weakest brick to knock out. Marina and I were of course fearful that strays and new litters would increasingly be a problem come spring, so we had put in a request for the city to fill in the hole – and got the hopeful response “They haven't filled it in yet? I'll put another note on his desk.” Time elapsed, so we made our move. Our first attempt with leftover slow-dry cement was not successful- the brick we cemented in either fell out, or was pushed out (by cat/s or one of our resident babushkas who fed the cats). We were afraid we'd made an enemy, but a few days later at a tenant's meeting called to discuss installation of a new secured-entrance intercom door, it turned out most residents were vocally against the cats, and several other residents had also tried to fill in the hole to no avail. 14 out of 15 residents agreed to split the cost for the door, about 1650 r. each, with the 15th contributing for half the amount of the door without the intercom. These deaf residents had no use for the intercom, and there is no Russian ADA to assure accessibility for citizens with special needs.
After the secure door was put in , Marina and I purchased some quick-dry cement (84 r. /5 kg bag) and did the job past midnight, during the Russian re-run of the Oscars. As the cement strengthens with each passing day, we figure the chances of someone knocking a new hole are decreasingly less. The immediate benefit was improved cleaning service: Each entrance is assigned a cleaning person, to sweep and clean according to a posted schedule. Ours had told residents that she would not waste her time so long as stray cats were allowed in, and sure enough, the door went in on Sunday, we filled in the hole Monday evening, and Tuesday morning we could see a real “clean sweep”.
We are very happy with our home. We had ruled out living in St. Petersburg proper from the start, to avoid the noise of city life. Vsevolozhsk is big enough to have a character – and a Lenin statue - of its own. It's 25 minutes (and 32 r.) by commuter van, 40 by electric train (27 r.) and 45 minutes by city bus to St. Petersburg: close enough for frequent excursions to town. Our view is to the south, and we get color from the rising sun above a nearby 5-story, while the two adjacent 14-stories shade us from direct morning light. All day the sun crests above the 9-story small ship directly across the courtyard from us, and eventually sets below a distant 5-story. This should supply enough sunlight for Marina's plans to grow flowers, herbs, and hopefully cucumbers on our balcony- and I suggested she try cherry tomatoes as well. Our courtyard, the size of a pee-wee football field, has a playground, pathways on the diagonal, and is strewn with an assortment of trees (I only recognize birch in the winter, time and leaves will indicate the other species) that we hope will soon bloom with pretty buds and foliage. They are already home to a family of small red-breasted songbirds that Marina is fond of. In the meantime, winter hoar frost, due to continual sub-freezing temeratures and light precipitation, paints branches and eyebrows with a pretty white Jack frost. When we looked at the place, I was attracted most to the layout of the courtyard, and was happy not to find a view of the road, or of an adjacant building, which is more common.
We're getting acquainted with shops and services in town. Our best finds so far are farm-fresh sour cream and milk, and twice so far I've found still-warm, fresh bread at local farms local store. We're still working on finding the best produce- many local farmers offer potatoes, beets, carrots, and cabbage from their own trucks from cold storage, but this late in winter we're finding some rot from some sources. Like the US, produce of all varieties are available year round in the supermarket, but not necessarily very fresh or tasty ones. Recently I made the rounds, and got a jar (bring your own, or purchase a plastic container/2 r.) of 30% sour cream from the White Nights Market (60 r./kg), 3.6% milk from the Soviet-era milk wagon (15 r./liter , BYO bottle), and stood in line at the produce truck for some decent looking potatoes at a low 12 r./kg and some peanut-size potatoes for a bargain 5 r. Fortunately, they were out of bags, so I had to make an emergency run to the supermarket for plastic bags (generally sold for 2-3 r.). I put my hand on a package of bread (Russian bread is still a fantastic bargain- 9 r. 50 kopecks for this luscious loaf of light rye.) as I passed - and my heart skipped a few beats as I felt the heat from the just-delivered piping-hot bread. Salivating, I made a dash to grab some “young bull” pielmieni (Russian ravioli) and kvas (a non-alcoholic fermented bread drink I've come to love) that I also like at this store, back outside for 5 kg of potatoes, and made the 5-minute walk home in time to enjoy a slice of bread from the middle of the loaf, still with a few degrees of heat radiating from deep inside. Oh, joy. I was spoiled on oven-fresh bread in Kamchatka – Marina worked at a store that had its own bakery, and the first bread came in at 9 PM as she ended her shift. Now I just have to determine the delivery schedule here.
09 March
Marina started a new job today at a local uniform manufacturing company. This is up her alley- she is a certified seamstress. Denis, the 40-something company owner, literally lives at work, along with his wife/administrator and daughter. The office boasts a computer-generated banner asking “What's the point of being, if you don't work to make the world better?”. This fits right in with the Soviet-era slogans still on the walls of the facility: “Glory to the Soviet People!” on the outside, and “May each of you reap the harvests of your work every day!” painted in the hallway. Denis is also the designer- and he's full of ideas that Marina is excited about. Marina boasts the ability to simply look at a design and re-create it, but feels she lacks the ability to design something new- so this could be an interesting partnership. The company offers “full social benefits”- which include health insurance, pension, 9 days sick leave, and a month annual vacation. This is the law, but easily avoided by many employers. Incidentally, the state offers unique maternity leave benefits: a small monthly stipend based on income after the 7th month of pregnancy thru the 3rd year after birth, and a one-time payment upon birth. The business occupies three or four rooms of a former technical college, which is shared by several small production firms. The 50-something manager of the adjacent furniture factory in his simple blue suit and tie fits the image of a typical Soviet Manager.
Marina is also learning to use her new sewing machine (she needed a model that offered a certain type of buttonhole, not offered on the basic models), and she'll continue her private business as a seamstress- offering both new women's clothing and repairs/resizing to old clothes. The next step is to take advantage of a 4-month, no-interest loan for a hemmer (credit always existed in the USSR, but a for-profit version is rapidly growing in Russia- with a brand new federal credit agency- horrors.)
As for me, I'm waiting for my official work papers to come through- this should take anywhere between 3-6 months. With a concrete job offer, I can get a temporary work permit, but this is expensive (5000 r.) and can take up to three months as well – so the official advice is to wait for the permanent permit. In the meantime, as I've settled into our new home, I'll be writing, and soliciting a publisher. I'm already in the process of transcribing, editing and annotating my great-great Uncle Eli's memoirs of his experiences while held captive in Soviet Russia immediately after the Revolution. He had been in Russia on business (wrong place at the right time!) in October 1917, was denied an exit visa, compelled to work in a Soviet bureaucracy, jailed for 6 months after an escape attempt, and finally escaped in October 1920. (Get me Spielberg- anyone?) I'm also pursing teaching opportunites here, and Marina and I would like to continue with a tourism/bed and breakfast business that we flirted with in Kamchatka.
