Russian Word of the Day

A подъезд is an entrance hall of a multi-storey house through which all inhabitants pass on the way to their apartments. It’s basically a lobby that usually includes an elevator and has a stairway leading from one floor to the next. Подъезд is composed of two parts, под “under/up to” and езд- “ride.” Here are some example sentences:

A подъезд is a very important part of the building. Each one has its own distinct attributes that ultimately create a special kind atmosphere that never repeats itself. It can be good or bad, creepy or safe. You can have a roomy apartment with tall ceilings, new windows and a spacious balcony, but that might not be enough to convince someone to buy or rent the place if the подъезд is a mess. Most likely the price will have to drop. How many ordinary people would want, especially at night, to step into a dreary подъезд with one flickering light bulb hanging from the ceiling and barely illuminating the mutilated floor tiles, graffitied walls, bruised mailboxes, and rank, piss-stained stairs?

I grew up in a building with this particular drawback. The six-story structure, built in the Stalin years, was in fair overall condition and at a convenient location: subway station within walking distance and Red Square just a couple of train stops away. For the most part my neighbors were regular people with families and everyday jobs. There was one severe alcoholic living with his mother a floor above my apartment, but he wasn’t the boisterous type and rarely caused trouble. The only real problem was the подъезд that scared visitors and inhabitants alike. One fifteen-year-old girl’s grandmother would not let her come in alone out of certain fears. Of course I thought she was being paranoid, but looking back at it now, it makes a lot more sense. When you have depressed drunkards randomly hanging out by the doorway and occasional junkies shooting up in the shadowy corners, the instinct of caution switches on automatically.

All efforts to bring the подъезд into decent condition failed. Calling the cops didn’t help much either: they got bored—no major disturbances. The neighborhood wasn’t poor by any means, and the house to the left had a nice, clean подъезд, as did the one across the street, but for some strange reason everyone liked to hang out at ours. I also remember a neighbor complaining about having to lower the sale price of her apartment too much. This problem existed in other neighborhoods throughout the city and was eventually acknowledged by the administrators. About four years ago the walls were repainted, new floor tiles laid out, broken mailboxes replaced and, most importantly, a steel door with a phone system was installed. Now there are no uninvited visitors or obvious signs of vandalism, but the urine stench is as strong as ever.