Visiting Russia: Apartments, supermarkets are unexpected pleasures

ST. PETERSBURG, Russia – When I entered the supermarket, I didn't know whether I'd been transported to an American suburb or a Russian version of SuperTarget. Maybe it was an old airplane hangar left over from Soviet days.

I'd never seen a building this large, and it was filled with food. It was filled with people. The long lines seen in news photos of Russians shopping for provisions are as distant as memories of Karl Marx and tanks rumbling through Red Square. I counted 33 checkout counters.

On my most recent visit to St. Petersburg, lots of things made my eyes open to the size of onion domes. The Winter Palace, with its massive white façade, always looked as if it were caked with snow, even on a warm spring morning. The obscene opulence of Petrodvorets, the summer getaway of the czars, made me wonder what took the Russian Revolution so long.

But the two sights that shattered my shades were walking into O'key supermarket and my handpicked Russian apartment, which, on scale, seemed almost as big. Together, they provided one of the most unusual traveling experiences I've had in Europe. It saved me hundreds of dollars and brought me closer to Russian life than any five-star hotel or tour could.

Since the fall of communism in 1991, St. Petersburg has grown into one of the beacons of European travel. It also rivals London and Paris in cost. Free enterprise is alive and well in the new Russia. Bulgari cologne is sold where stale bread once was peddled.

I have learned to beat the costs by cooking in a short-term rental from one of the hundreds of apartment agencies in St. Petersburg. Two years ago, I rented a spotless, simple apartment a 10-minute walk from the Winter Palace and a block from the picturesque Neva River. I paid $70 a night.

In May, I stepped up in class. I rented a flat on Nevsky Prospekt, St. Petersburg's version of Fifth Avenue. Nevsky's wide boulevard is lined with tony jewelry shops, quaint outdoor cafes and rollicking nightclubs. I didn't know what $90 a night (I got $10 off for being a repeat customer) would get me. I flew in late one pleasant May night, and Dmitry from the Nevsky prostor agency met me outside the apartment entrance, curiously next to a sushi den.

He took me up a drab staircase to the second floor and opened the door to my apartment for the week. What was laid out in front of me made my last Marriott suite pale in comparison. My Russian digs were 807 square feet, bigger than my condo at home. The living room had a television, a stereo and a huge couch. A writing table looked out onto the bright lights of Nevsky Prospekt.

The spacious bedroom had a queen-size bed and a sizable closet and was about a $5 cab ride from the kitchen. It was fully equipped with a gas-fueled stove, a microwave oven and a full-size refrigerator. The bathroom could fit six people.

Somewhat stunned, as if I'd won a Vegas jackpot, I mumbled, "Um, I'll take it." I gave Dmitry the seven nights' payment of $630, in rubles, and he returned my deposit in the form of a crisp $100 bill. I asked Dmitry how much this apartment would cost to buy on the Russian market.

"About $400,000," he said.

It wasn't this easy in the past.

"In Soviet time, before 1991, there were no private homes," said Alla Shinkevich, manager of Nevsky prostor. "All apartments were municipal apartments. There were no owners. So people could not rent each apartment. In our country, it was very difficult for foreign people to live in their apartment. Some people invite their friends from abroad, but there were many, many papers to sign to let foreign people in their house."

Over the course of the week, I did an informal survey of how much money I saved. Across Nevsky, the five-star Nevsky Palace Hotel ranges from $241 per night for a single to $382 for a triple. Around this historic center, mid-range hotels ran from about $125 to $230. I enjoyed my bargain even more while spying the Nevsky Palace from my living-room window.

The kitchen added to the bargain. At one time, cooking in Russia made about as much sense as clubbing in Iran.

I wanted to cook for three Russian friends and strolled into O'key. I was making puttanesca, one of my favorite Roman dishes that's simple to make but uses tricky ingredients such as bucatini pasta and capers.

Strolling among the packed shelves, I saw that I could make dishes from dozens of countries. I saw apples from China, potatoes from Israel, grapes from Greece. In the massive vegetable section filled with fresh produce, I saw bell peppers in five colors, including black. I took a number to get Baltic salmon steaks at the spotless seafood section where a woman scooped jiggling piles of red caviar onto a scale. Nearby, a pretty, uniformed blonde handed out samples of pelmeni – meat-filled Russian dumplings

Until the 1990s, Russian grocery stores were the size of 7-Elevens, but supermarkets started popping up after communism fell. One of my friends, Olga Zavyalova, grew up in the Siberian town of Yeniseysk. She said people stood for hours to buy oranges. Many of her friends had never tasted a banana.

"In my town, when we heard 'peaches,' " she said, "everybody raced to get in line."

I found every ingredient I needed except one. It was there, but I didn't know the Russian word for "caper," and pantomiming a pickled flower bud made the clerk laugh. Including breakfast foods and sandwich meat, I left O'key minus about $40.

St. Petersburg has developed into a great restaurant town, but I spent $70 and $75 on meals for two.

Shopping with locals was an economic respite and terrific insight into the culture. The trick was making it edible. While my friends nibbled on French cheese to go with a nice Bordeaux, I used the kitchen's many pots and pans and gas stove to make a tasty puttanesca and a chef salad.

"It was brilliant," said Katya, one of my guests.

John Henderson is a sportswriter and traveling food columnist for The Denver Post.

WHEN YOU GO WHEN TO VISIT

Best weather is early summer, when snows have disappeared, and fall when colors in the parks and around the palaces are beautiful. Summers can be hot, but most units have air-conditioning. Winters are freezing but gorgeous.

APARTMENTS

Only about 50 of the 500 apartment agencies belong to the Saint-Petersburg Association, which regulates the industry. The Web site is http://arspb.ru/_mem bers/index.php. It is in Russian, but it lists all agency phone numbers. I went through Nevsky prostor agency (011-7-812-325-3838, www.spb-estate.com/eng). In the central city and historic district, expect to pay $70 to $150 a night for a mid-range one- or two-room apartment, $1,000 to $2,000 per month. A three- or four-room apartment is $100 to $250 a night, $1,500 to $3,000 per month. Total range is $50 to $700 per night.

Other agencies with English Web sites: Alexander Real Estate 011-7-812-716-1705, www.english.an1.spb.ru; Nevsky Alliance 011-7-8912-325-7577, www.nev-al.ru/en; and Saint Petersburg Apartments 011-7-812-337-1223, www.saint-petersburg-apart ments.com.

12:04 PM CDT on Monday, October 22, 2007