The historical city center of Saint Petersburg is indisputably gorgeous. Sparkling canals are crossed by artfully curving bridges, and the skyline is peppered with cathedrals, spires, and monuments that pay tribute to the city’s rich history from 1703 onward. Strolling along Ekaterininsky Canal after sundown, one is struck by the reflections of timeless architecture and gold streetlamps on smooth water, and it is impossible not to relive the passions and tragedies of the city as portrayed by Pushkin, Gogol, and Dostoevsky. However, after spending over a month in Moscow, Saint Petersburg felt strange to me. I felt as though I was living inside a bubble of Europeanness and surface-level wealth, a place where dreams might only remain as dreams. Saint Petersburg’s city center lacked the true, passionate, deeply Russian atmosphere found in Moscow.
Several years ago, I visited Saint Petersburg with my family. One distinct memory I have is of riding the metro far from the city center to an area dominated by Soviet-style apartment blocks and endless concrete. On our last day in Saint Petersburg this time around, I wanted to take a similar trip to the outer reaches of the city in order to confirm my memory that Saint Petersburg is more than just palaces and golden domes, and to break out of the European bubble.
My quest was successful. I rode the purple line northwest to Staraya Derevnya (Old Village) Station, where there were no more balconies overlooking upscale cafes and souvenir shops, or signs in English pointing thousands of selfie-snapping tourists to the Hermitage. The district was distinctly Russian: multi-lane streets, American chain restaurants in need of fresh paint, people in comely clothing that went out of style a couple years ago in the United States, and a few well-mown green spaces that looked inviting but were entirely empty. Apartment blocks stood tall and boxy, but they were new and well-kept. A short walk from the station granted a view of the not-yet-complete Lakhta Center, which is to be the tallest building in Europe, and I passed by rusting train tracks located in front of an industrial smokestack and the frame of a building of crumbling concrete. Although Moscow contains much more than these features, this district fit with the perception of “Russianness” that I have gathered since arriving in March. It felt homey.
After walking past “School Number 64”, I stopped to talk to a young woman walking her dog and asked about the relation between the area we were in versus the center of the city. This woman has lived in Saint Petersburg for sixteen years and rides the metro to the city center when she has time, mainly to go shopping on Nevsky Prospect. This woman spoke about the city center casually, and I got the sense that she did not share my (rather inexperienced) perception that the city center is spiritually disconnected from the city outskirts.
Although I greatly appreciate the beauty, history, and poetic soul of Saint Petersburg’s city center, I was glad to have experienced a normal district that is not immersed in literary mystique and tales of Peter and Catherine the Great. The greatest distinction between the center and this outskirt district fell in line with Saint Petersburg’s famous clash between East and West: Staraya Derevnya had the architecture, city planning, language and general atmosphere of the East, while the city center had that of the West. Visiting this district also served as a reminder that, like any city, Saint Petersburg is a place ordinary people call home.
