Down the Rabbit-Hole: The Key to Living on Gatchinskaya Street

"Alice: Why, look! I'm just the right size!

Doorknob: No use. I forgot to tell you. I'm locked!

Alice: Oh no!

Doorknob: But of course, you've got the key, so...

Alice: What key?"

-Alice in Wonderland

For the first time since leaving my parents’ house I have to check in when I leave and come home… with my mom (well, host mom). It’s a strange sensation to have my wings clipped in this way. I have become such an independent person and I am used to fending for myself on a daily basis. I cook my own food, I run all of my errands, I get myself to and from class and around town (and the East Coast in general) when I need it. Now I rely entirely upon my host family in this strange, teenaged-esque limbo that didn’t work out so well for me the first time. But my host family is sweet and they take good care of me.

The front door to Dom 12

I live on Гатчинская Улица (Gatchinskaya Street) on one of the islands of St. Petersburg, as I have mentioned earlier. My host family has a spacious apartment – room enough for all six of us! Traditionally, Russian apartments are small and crowded but cozy and comfortable. My family’s apartment is a bit larger than what I was expecting.

The entry hall of Dom 12

From the outside Gatchinskaya looks like a rough neighborhood but it is quite upscale. There is a bit of graffiti at street level on the buildings which look to be falling apart on the outside. There is a soccer pitch down the street much like a basketball court in between buildings in New York. Once you venture inside building 12 it looks a little scary – it was built over 100 years ago and the entry hallway looks it. Each apartment inside, however, has been remodeled and if they rest look like mine, they are quite nice. Just another example of how nothing is what it seems to be in Russia.

The soccer pitch down the street

The apartment is conveniently located close to two different metro stations and there is both a nicely decorated 24 hour coffee shop and a wine bar with live music on the corner of the street (in the opposite direction of the soccer pitch)! The only challenging part about where I live is the front door.

Gatchinskaya Street
(if you were to stand in front of the door)

The front door to the apartment is a bit of a metaphor for Russians in general. It is heavy and has the largest lock I have ever encountered. Ever. It’s also taken me over two weeks just to figure out how to turn the key properly so that it opens to begin with! Inga and I laughed our tapochki off when I finally managed to let myself in the front door.

So it is with Russians. It takes time to get to know them and to work your way into their inner circle. Outside of that circle and you get a stone cold “metro face” (more on that later). Once you have found your way in however, once you are “наши” (one of us), they are a warm and loving people and are fiercely loyal. The front door however, is less welcoming.

The front door to the appartment

Even after I finally managed to figure out the specific angle at which one must turn the key (Twice, mind you! Not just once all the way around!) in order to pull back the three sets of four, ¼ inch thick metal prongs that keep the thick steel door shut. Once you manage to open that monstrosity you must then squeeze yourself into the little (and I do mean little) space between the front door and the next, shut and lock it (with two turns, of course), and fiddle the next one open in total darkness. And then you are inside the beautiful, bright apartment!

I am lucky that it only takes two keys to get home. Many of my peers have shown me their rings full of keys of all shapes and sizes like something out of Gringots Bank! Some of them have to work their way through three or even four doors to boot. The chaos of the 1990s left a bad taste in the mouths of most people here. They are paranoid about keeping themselves and their apartments safe from burglary and other nastiness because it lives on in the recent, living memory of all but the very youngest generation. Every building has a key-fob to get in and then each apartment is equipped with an army of keys and doors. No two doors are alike. No two keys are alike. And don’t you dare lose the keys – you will buy a new door and new locks.

Quirky doors and keys are not limited to houses either. I had to work my way through a number of locks to purchase my modem at Цифры/Tsifree (think Fry’s minus the cool themes and about the size of a video game store). Every item was in a case. With its own key. The gentleman who helped me had to leave one set of keys in a box on the wall (that is then locked) in order to walk into the room with the modems to get out another set of keys to unlock the cabinet for me. He then put that set of keys in another box on the wall (again locked) to walk me to the cashier so that I could purchase the modem. At no point did I touch anything in the store. This is even the case at Smolniy! Each classroom is locked (and has two sets of doors) in between classes (even during the ten minute passing periods). Professors must go to the front desk to sign out the key to the classroom. And what if you want to buy a soda? You must ask the cashier to open the refrigerator with a key - heaven forbid someone steal a bottle of carbonated water. Нельзя. Невозможно. All of the doors are locked.