In the Russian mind, there are several cities of myths where spaces combine reality and imagination. The main one is St. Petersburg. Its myth we study in Russian literature classes: through Gogol’s stories, Dostoevsky’s novels, Nekrasov’s poetry and the poets of the Silver Age. Vladivostok is another such city. Its real and imagined images are part of our mass culture. Just turn on the old song Vladivostok 2000 in any bar across the country’s vast territory and you’ll see that each of us, in their own way, is a native of Vladivostok, living and dancing in an imaginary city from a parallel Universe, as the song describes.

Moreover, Vladivostok is a key element of the Russian frontier paradigm. All Russian history has been about expanding the country’s borders, exploring unknown territories, external and internal colonization. And here, Vladivostok undoubtedly plays a special role, being situated at our very own “Russian Bosphorus” – the Eastern Bosphorus Strait and Golden Horn Bay, which received their names when Russian dreams of Constantinople came to an end.

I believe every resident of Russia wants to visit the Far East, to see Vladivostok. But not everyone makes it there, even though air tickets can sometimes be made cheaper by a special state support programme. But that’s what distant frontiers are for, not everyone gets to experience them. Yet, Vladivostok itself is eager to stop being so distant. For example, Viktor Shalay, Director of Vladimir K. Arseniev Museum of Far East History, chief curator and interpreter of the myths about this region through cultural projects (an interview with him can also be found in this issue of Watch Russia), does a lot of work towards decolonizing our view of the city, region, and country.

We invite you to take a walk through Vladivostok, both distant and close, together with theatre critic Marina Shimadina.

For those who have never been to the Far East, it seems like the edge of geography, a mysterious and semi-mythical land existing in some other dimension but that’s not definite. Landing at Vladivostok airport after an eight-hours night flight, swaying slightly, you still feel the elusive, ephemeral quality of this place, as if everything might suddenly disappear, just like in a dream.

But gradually, reality begins to gain density, brightness, sounds, bursting into your consciousness with hundreds of strange new sensations. It’s not really mountains but walking straight here is almost impossible, you constantly need to go downhill or uphill because the city stands on hills. It looks like sea, but smells different from the familiar Black Sea, and the surrounding vegetation around is not southern either. Seems like morning, yet my Moscow watch shows the middle of the night. The streets are full of right-hand drive cars and signs with hieroglyphs. Complete disorientation in time and space.

A Russian at His Own Bosphorus

I arrived in Vladivostok to work, to attend the Immersion Festival at the local Primorsky Youth Theatre, which was actually very interesting. But whenever possible, taking advantage of free moments, I explored the city. I started with its most remote part, Russky Island.

For a long time,Russky Island used to be a closed military island and many fortifications remain there today. Accessible only by ferry, weather permitting, in 2012 a bridge was built specifically for the summit, becoming the longest cable-stayed bridge in the world, allowing the Eastern Bosphorus Strait to be crossed in just ten minutes. Nowadays, there is the modern campus of the Far Eastern University and a huge aquarium on the island. Yet most of Russky Island remains wild nature. I love it that way!

Actor Pasha from our host theatre kindly agreed to take guests to Tobizin Cape, considered the island’s calling card. To reach it, you first have to drive along a battered dirt road, then walk two kilometres, partly climbing over rocks. The path is significantly slowed by breathtaking views impossible to pass without photographing. But the effort pays off. Tobizin Cape feels like the true edge of the earth, epic and harsh, reminiscent of Ireland, with turquoise water and dizzying cliffs, looking down takes your breath away. At the very end, as if specially designed for tired travellers, lies a cozy rocky beach where you can have a picnic, sit on warm slabs of stone and enjoy the waves breaking against the shore.

Another symbol of Vladivostok is Tokarevsky Lighthouse on Tokarevskaya Koshka. You can access it via a narrow isthmus but, at high tide, it disappears completely underwater. When I got there, the tide had already begun, leaving behind only a strip of sand, crawled upon by tourists like ants, endlessly snapping photos. I waited until they all cleared out to take proper shots. Another half hour later, finally, the spit was mine! But then the waves rose again, splashing me from both sides. I spent the rest of the day walking in wet sneakers but it was fun anyway.

To complete the maritime theme, I took a boat tour called “Bridges of Vladivostok”, cruising from Zolotoy Bridge back to Russky Bridge. Bridges look impressive from the water but it is even more fascinating to pass various ports and ships dotting the entire coastline: cargo vessels, passenger liners, coal carriers, fishing boats, military ships and even a floating hospital. Only the famous frigate “Nadezhda” (“Hope”) happened to have sailed somewhere else, though I’d hoped to visit it. Let’s not lose hope, pardon the pun: maybe we’ll cross paths again someday.

Kolchak, Burliuk, and Chinatown

After enjoying various marine activities, I embarked on exploring the city streets. Usually, I use audio guides from the IziTravel portal, I’m not fond of group tours and prefer choosing routes independently. There you can discover places rarely visited by casual tourists: a semi-wild viewing platform hidden among courtyards or a small Japanese courtyard behind a shopping centre, all remnants of the once densely populated Japanese district.

Multiculturalism is one of Vladivostok’s most intriguing features but, historically, the biggest diaspora belonged to Chinese immigrants. Even now, close to Chinese restaurants, you’ll encounter groups of loud, animated representatives of China. In pre-revolutionary times, however, they owned an entire neighborhood known as Millionka, surrounded by numerous legends. One claims that Kolchak’s gold was hidden here. Millionka was infamous for opium dens; the Soviet authorities eventually managed to shut these illegal businesses down. Today, Asian charm has largely vanished but, in the maze of narrow alleys, you’ll occasionally come across shops selling Chinese and Japanese goods, as well as stores catering to anime and manga fans, which number plenty throughout the city.

What surprised me was how many murals and graffiti adorn the walls; there’s even a dedicated guidebook available. These include detailed recreations of life in Millionka covering whole walls, the iconic Vladivostok Island and portraits of prominent locals such as legendary hunter Dersu Uzala and David Burliuk, the father of Russian Futurism, who lived here during the Civil War.

Museum, Theatres, and Scallops

To piece together the fragmented information into a coherent picture, it is vital to visit the Vladimir K. Arseniev Museum of Far East History. Named after the explorer and principal researcher of these regions, the Museum houses excellent collections: archaeological, ethnographic, historical. I was particularly impressed by the hall dedicated to the traditional cultures and beliefs of indigenous peoples: Udeghe, Nanai, Orochi. It is great that many exhibits feature QR codes offering comprehensive individual guided tours.

Cultural impressions can be further enriched by visiting the theatre. A new modern stage of the Mariinsky Theatre has recently opened in the city, regularly hosting performances by artists from Moscow. Yet, it is even more exciting to attend a performance at the local Primorye Youth Theatre, where I spent several eventful days. This progressive, young collective strives to keep pace with contemporary trends, organizing festivals and workshops, and staging unconventional productions. For instance, Artistic Director Pavel Makarov staged Carlo Goldoni’s The Servant of Two Masters in the spirit of genuine Italian commedia dell’arte, featuring Venetian masks. Here, you can witness a modern play, such as Maria Malukhina’s Sea. Stars. Oleander directed by renowned Moscow-based director Filipp Gurevich, or the Brodsky-inspired House Party (Kvartirnik), as well as a backstage exploration journey titled Theatre Route.

Of course, gastronomic experiences cannot be overlooked in Vladivostok. You simply must try the local seafood: scallops, mussels, oysters, sea cucumbers, squid, octopuses, crabs, shrimp. Despite my general aversion to sea creatures, I did manage to taste scallops (not raw ones) and a sliced sea cucumber stew. Let’s say the flavour is specific. Braver souls with stronger stomachs might opt for sea urchins (high iodine content) or sea cucumbers. Personally, I enjoyed the atmosphere more at Café Octopus near Tokarevsky Lighthouse, resembling a fisherman’s tavern: cramped veranda with simple wooden tables, ever-present salt in the air, and stunning bay views. As for dining, I preferred Café Ne Rydai (Don’t Cry) located on central Svetlanskaya Street. Once a restaurant inside the luxurious Versailles Hotel turned into a cafeteria during Soviet times, it retains its elegant interiors: big windows, chandeliers, ornate plaster work with affordable prices and delicious simple food complemented by regional delicacies.

It Is Called Many-Faced

Wandering through Vladivostok, I tried to capture its vibes and understand what it resembles: bridges remind me of San Francisco, severe forts evoke memories of Kronstadt, cliffs and capes resemble Ireland, port cranes echo Murmansk, seaside Modernist architecture recalls Odessa, evening pop music along the promenades brings back memories of Gelendzhik in the 1990s, crowds of Chinese people conjure up images of Shanghai, young cadets recall Sevastopol, while prices match those in Moscow. Overall, Vladivostok is so multifaceted that it can’t be reduced to a single denominator. That’s precisely why it is unique. And I really want to come back to continue discovering and exploring further.