“So, this one is yours”, my new landlady says and points at the wall. It had several different toilet seats attached to it. “You have to take it down and put it back up again every time you use the restroom. Also, bring your own toilet paper roll.” This is how it’s like to live in a Russian kommunalka.
Russian kommunalkas in the past
A little background: communal flats, called коммуналка (kommunalka) (short for коммунальная квартира – kommunal’naya kvartira) in Russian, used to be the most prominent form of living together in the USSR. After the revolution, citizens from rural areas massively moved to the big cities. Space was limited, and thus large apartments and houses were nationalized and split up by the government to accomodate several families. In modern Russia, this style of cohabitation is used less and less, but in St. Petersburg it is a popular possibility among students to afford rent in the city’s historical center. Some might view it merely as an authentic – at times, perhaps a bit frightening – encounter with Soviet culture, however for many families that don’t want or need a whole apartment on their own it is still a considerable option.
Russian kommunalkas in the present
“So, this one is yours.”, my new landlady says and points at the wall. It had several different toilet seats attached to it. “You have to take it down and put it back up again every time you use the restroom. Also, bring your own toilet paper roll.” I nod. Even though I am mildly intimidated by this resolute old lady (бабушки (babushki) still tend to have this effect on me), I have spent enough time in this country that I completely lost my ability to be shocked by anything. As part of my semester abroad last year, my university took care of my accomodation and put me in a dorm. But after two months of living there, I decided it was time to move out and finally experience the real Russia – surely, living in a kommunalka can’t be that hard, can it?
Someone nailed a bike to the walls
We continue our tour around the apartment. Brown-greenish linoleum tiles cover the floor, the last renovation probably happened a long while ago. The flat itself is huge – five different families live here; one room hosts two people on average. Someone nailed a bike to the five-meter-high walls in the spacious corridor. I have no idea how it got there, but I know that questioning it would be futile. The hallway also hosts a variety of different things that people randomly stored there – tools, a deconstructed wardrobe, clothes, a washing machine (with two more in the bathroom). The kitchen contains three different stoves and refrigerators. I share mine with a sympathetic young girl and her brother. Everyone has their own space for preparation as well as cupboards and drawers.
Paying the rent in cash?
The other inhabitants are: a woman in her 50ies who shouts a lot at me in a language I don’t understand. Another woman in her 60ies who makes cake for every Russian holiday and shares it with the whole kommunalka. The aforementioned sibling duo that invites us to an evening with board games and vodka. Lastly, an inconspicuous family that barely shows up in the kitchen, my friend and me. Our room has a separate pantry that still contains an old suitcase and a pair of skis from its previous tenant. “And this light switch is the one you are supposed to use. I will come and collect the rent every month.”, the landlady finishes her explanations. Paying the rent in cash? Sounds dubious. But I tell myself: it’s Russia. There are essential rules of living together; one of them is wearing тапочки, slippers, all the time. We have a cleaning schedule which rotates from week to week. On first sight it doesn’t seem to differ too much from living in a shared flat. Only normally the inhabitants are students, everyone has their own private room, and stoves and washing machines (as well as toilet seats and light switches) are shared.
Kommunalka Living
The actual life in a communal flat is more coexistence than family like. You help each other out if your salt is empty, but everyone quietly does their own thing. If you follow the rules, no one interferes with your business. You don’t meet up in the kitchen for long chats over a cup of tea – in fact the kitchen doesn’t even have chairs or a table – and you don’t get to know each other very well. Your neighbors (or most of them) will stay strangers to you – as long as they don’t use your utensils (or vice versa).
Read also: Introduction to Russian Dachas
What I know now
One thing I have learned about sharing my room with two other people and the whole apartment with eight is this: having a room by yourself is not a necessity, but a privilege. It also does not completely violate your privacy. In fact, I am very comfortable in my new surroundings and I find myself missing my room mates whenever they are not around. I can hear the water kettle whistle on the kitchen stove – something I thought of as antiquated before – it now makes me feel at home.
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