The Kommunalka: Where Hitchcock & Dostoevsky Meet

Russian talk radio echoes around the courtyard. A cat sits perched on a windowsill, gazing at the small flock of pigeons picking at a pack of old bread that some babushka has generously thrown out. A young girl sits at her vanity mirror putting on make-up in the apartment directly across. I’m convinced the top-floor flat is a greenhouse rather than a living space, with the explosion of greenery pouring out the windows. I see strangers in the stairwell, some going up, some coming down. An old man leans out his window, cigarette in hand, a cloud of smoke swirling around the cold, still air. And here am I, perched on my own spacious windowsill, book in hand, feeling like Jimmy Stewart straight out of Hitchcock’s Rear Window. I’m not sure what makes me happier, this montage of Russian life playing out before me, or the fact that I am no longer a homeless vagabond in this city.

Dosteovskogo 36 is the address. And if you’re wondering whether Dostoevsky himself lived on the street, then you’d be correct in that assumption. Just two blocks up the road sits the flat-turned-museum where the beloved Russian prophet crafted The Brother’s Karamazov and later passed away. There is something special about this place. Not just its historic significance, but a peaceful corner of this often chaotic city where real people live, and where I find myself content.

I’ve called this spot home for just 2 weeks now. After 6 months of office living and another 3 months couch-surfing in the homes of generous friends, the era of homelessness if finally over. I’ve learned a lot throughout this exhausting yet adventurous process. I’ve learned that despite people’s claims that you must hire an outrageously expensive agent to find a decent flat, you can, in fact, do it on your own. Granted, it will require a lot of time scrolling through social media groups, visits to one too many terrifying apartments, and some haggling. And somehow navigating the whole system in Russian.

So here we are. A very modern and spacious room located in a very old, soviet style “kommunalka” or communal apartment. It is an experience, it is reasonably cheap, it is perfect. Kommunalkas are remnants of this country’s communist history. Palaces and extravagant homes of the aristocracy were taken by the people and divided into smaller flats, usually shared with strangers. Families were given a single room in the apartment where all of the living took place, while a large kitchen, toilet and bathroom were shared amongst all the inhabitants. While, for obvious reasons, this type of living is phasing out, in the historic center you can still find many kommunalkas. Often the occupants are older people who have been living there for decades, as well as young people on a budget. Our kommunalka is comprised of four rooms, a shared kitchen and a shared bathroom. While it isn’t totally clear exactly who lives there and who is just a visitor, there seems to be a family in one room, a young woman in another, and an invalid mother and caretaker daughter in the third. And then us – two American girls entering into this strange Soviet way of life.

Perhaps it is the result of such prolonged homelessness, or perhaps it is my western mind adapting to the culture I am living in, but I can’t imagine myself happier in any other home.