My Grandpa Loved Taking Pictures Of Life In The Soviet Union, Here Are Some Of His Best Snaps

Mum.

My other grandma and grandpa in Tallinn, Estonia, in September 1975.

Mum is actually not sure herself whether this is her or David!

David was friends with Olya, who was Inna’s step-daughter. Olya was a lovely girl but developed schizophrenia in her teens. The illness had been passed on to her by her mum.

Grandma on holiday with grandpa (probably holding the camera) in Kizhi, Republic of Karelia (Russia).

David, around 1950, was playing with a construction set that looks pretty much like the one I had over thirty years later.

Grandma and David.

The much-hated camp again! Hiding from the camera as best she could.

Mum posing coyly against the backdrop of one of Leningrad’s most iconic sights: the Rostral Column.

In Tallinn, Estonia, 1960. The woman is the middle is called Elga, and it is with her that my grandpa lived after WWII for a while. Not in a romantic way, of course. Remember I told you he was only discharged from the army in 1947? Although the war was over, soldiers weren’t simply let go. Instead of returning home to their families, they would become part of the Soviet occupation forces that annexed three Baltic States – Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia – to the USSR. The local population was forced to accommodate the men.

You would be quite right in thinking that the locals didn’t exactly have any warm feelings towards the invader, but Elga was a kind woman, and she and my family remained friends.
Still, when you were a Russian tourist in a Baltic state, you couldn’t really hope for a warm welcome. Mum remembers that one time when she was in Estonia in the mid-seventies, queueing to buy a set of underwear for dad. The rule was only two sets per person, but some would queue twice, and that’s exactly what mum did. The saleswoman noticed that and refused to hand over merchandise using gestures. Mum tried to explain that the woman was mistaken and that it really was her first time.
‘Do you understand me?’ mum asked (in her own language, of course).
‘I’m sorry, I don’t speak Russian,’ said the woman – in perfect Russian.
Of course, this episode in itself doesn’t prove anything – after all, it was my mum here who was the troublemaker. Still, I thought I would tell you.

Oh, yes, and there was another story. Grandpa once returned from a business trip to one of the Baltic States (not sure which one) and brought with him a box of shoe polish. Not for himself, but for reselling. I couldn’t tell you exactly just how legal that sort of thing was in the USSR, but my guess would be: not very. He was only planning to offer it to his friends and acquaintances though, so the risk was minimal.
And so was the profit, because hardly anyone showed any interest, so he got to keep the entire box all to himself.

David, mum, and grandma. Later on, he would take away mum’s chocolate and give it to girls he fancied – though I hope he’d stopped that by the time he got his gig as a university lecturer.

Mum at the young pioneer camp in Kavgolovo (Leningrad Region) in 1960. It looks like she is having fun, but she actually hated it. She was homesick, and there was too much discipline involved, she says.
The reason she ended up there: her grandma had died, and the family thought it would be better for her to be somewhere more joyful. They couldn’t have made a bigger mistake – today, whenever she sees a snap from that camp, she can’t help but use an expletive—a mild one, but an expletive nonetheless.

Funnily enough, despite not having been a massive fan of communism, Lenin, the party, and all that stuff, she still remembers the young pioneer’s oath: I, a young pioneer of the Soviet Union, being in the presence of my mates, promise solemnly to love my Soviet fatherland with all my heart, to learn and to fight as decreed by Great Lenin and as is taught by the Communist Party.

She only received a silver medal instead of a gold one at school because she failed social studies. ‘Couldn’t learn that communist junk,’ she says.
P.S. Another fun fact about mum: she was the first girl in her class to wear a pair of trousers. Outside of school, naturally. Those were the envy of all the girls, she says.

At the camp. Yes, it is the statue of a young pioneer in the foreground.

Under a mushroom fountain. That thing would go off without warning and spray you if you were standing right next to it. But that was the whole point. It was a game – to make it safely under the roof without getting wet. Of course, you could bring an umbrella with you, but that would have been no fun.
Though judging by mum’s look, it was no fun anyway.

With uncle Stanislav, mum’s least favourite of her dad’s two brothers. Her favourite one, Oleg, sadly wasn’t a frequent visitor.

Once, when visiting the family, Stanislav saw her reading while eating lunch. Unceremoniously, he snatched the book out of her hands and said it wasn’t good for her to read and eat at the same time. Which was actually true, but that’s not the point.

A few years later, during another visit, she made it a point to let him see her reading and eating at the same time, just to annoy him. But now she was a young woman, and he could no longer do anything. Petty revenge, but oh, how satisfying!