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Vladivostok

By John Graham

Vladivostok, the principal city of Primorya in the Russian east (vostok), was established in 1860. It is at the end of the Siberian railway. It is about as far as you can get from Moscow and western culture and is just a few kilometers from North Korea and China where borders meet the sea. The city seems to be at the end of nowhere but from Denver it is less remote than Moscow – you simply travel around the globe the other way - through Korea.

The city is built on a series of peninsulas, which reach out into the Sea of Japan, forming safe harbors between their promontories. It is a natural base for the Russian Navy and the inlets are full of naval vessels of all kinds from three masters to nuclear submarines.

On May 9^th Vladivostok celebrated the 60-anniversary of the defeat of the Nazis by the Soviet Union. Russian basses sang patriotic songs and people danced on the waterfront to a background of a frieze of Soviet leaders.  It gave flavor to our visit.

The excellent Hyundai Hotel stands proud on a hill overlooking the inner Zolotoy Rog (Golden Horn) Bay, and each morning the scene is just a little different tempting yet another photograph. Imagine what might have happened if I had taken the photograph of naval war ships in Soviet days.

This city is proud of its Soviet past and there are many reminders, from decorations on the buildings, to Soviet statues and memorials. Yet it is equally proud of its promise for a changing future.

Its first and principal street, running along Zolotoy Rog reflects the changes in its history. Every building along this street from the University to the city hub has its own story to tell. Very early, when American vessels arrived in the port the street was Amerikanski-skaya but was renamed Svetlanskaya in honor of a famous Russian sailing vessel. This name gave way in the Soviet era to Leninskaya but now it has returned to the bosom of Svetlana.

However, Lenin still exists in a rare statue opposite the railway station. He has a demanding pose, but neither pigeons nor tourists are respecters of persons.

The station is worth an extended visit. It is the end of the Siberian railway and on arrival the conductors announce, “All get off here, there is nowhere else to go.” One of the old Soviet engines is on display and as we stand close by its wheels under the cast-iron hammer and sickle emblem, we imagine just a few strains of Lara’s theme as the train thunders through the forests with Strelnikov aboard.

The waiting room has a two ceiling friezes: one representing Moscow and the other Vladivostok. Moscow is composed of the Kremlin, a Cathedral, St. Basil’s, the Bolshoy and the Pushkin Gallery, and as one might expect Vladivostok’s frieze is a naval composition.

But not all is as bright and well cared for as the station. Encroaching, into the city are old wooden homes and poorly maintained concrete apartment blocks surrounded by abandoned garbage. The city has no money to clean up even the smallest of eyesores. Yet, there are new buildings – all owned by members of the new Mafia, so it’s no wonder that occasionally the Soviet era is remembered with longing.

The Mafia is very powerful in the city. Most shops employ security guards: robust young men dressed in black. Even the Benetton dress shop has one and all the tiny grocers shops have them. The guards don’t do anything but they are employed to ‘protect’ the business. Only the poorest establishments escape. It is a protection racket worthy of New York in the thirties.

Russian food is always exemplary and that in Vladivostok is no exception. One benefit of Soviet days is that Russia took ownership of food from all the republics – all different dishes and all good. In particular, Chicken Kiev melts in one’s mouth. If you cannot speak the language then borshch, beetroot vegetable soup with a spoonful of sour cream, is always good. Unfortunately, unless you buy from the corner grocery, the wine to go with the food in restaurants is expensive.

Walking in the city is difficult because sometimes sidewalks are missing and you take to the muddy verge. Driving in the city is dangerous. No visitor should try it. Seat belts are few and far between, most streets lack lane marking, and old pedestrian crossings have been worn invisible. There are no parking or driving rules. It is a complete free-for-all. If the driver wants to make a turning across two lines of traffic to his side, he simply does so. No one seems to mind and we only saw one accident in a week but no American could survive.

The lack of paint, decaying concrete, and worn road markings, are all because of lack of city money. Things will change as the principal visitors, businessmen and casino habitués from Korea and China, leave their funds behind. It is beginning to change. Entrepreneurs have created new coffee shops and art galleries that did not exist a few years ago. So, despite these precarious times, people seem to thrive.

The potential is here.

The location of this city is a cross between that of San Francisco and of Seattle. One can imagine tiers of attractive homes ensconced in greenery on these hills with yachts sailing on the sunny waters. Presently, there is a beach and a small resort area with funfair and ice creams but it could be much larger and more colorfully attractive.

A short summer, a winter of snow and its remoteness give the city a Siberian reputation, yet this is not Siberia.  It is on the same latitude as central Oregon and Boston, and, in Europe it would be south of Milan. Its weather is much the same as Boston’s and like Boston, the city is full of Universities. One day, Svetlanskaya will rank as a place to visit equal to Boston’s North End, and the food from borshch to katlety pakiefski will be better. One day the city will buzz with tourists but presently the only Americans in town are looking to adopt Russian babies.

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