My Life Story: What’s it like to spend the night in a Soviet Hotel?

Well, considering the Soviet Union dissolved in 1991, any authentic accommodation will be at least a few decades old. Just inside the 30 km checkpoint of the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, the Pripyat Hotel rests in the heart of Chernobyl City. It was built in 1967 to commemorate the 50^th anniversary of the October Revolution, which led to the establishment of communism as the dominate party in Russia in 1917. The pink façade of the two-story building provides a stark contrast to the surrounding grey, mossy homes that are being slowly reclaimed by nature. Nearby, visitors can see evidence of what was once a busy bedroom community for the people who worked in the power plant nearby. Local attractions include an empty Jewish synagogue (popular before WWII), a Lenin statue, and a small café (with free Wi-Fi)! Nowadays, visitors are limited to their rooms and the cafe after the sun goes down, because there isn’t any lighting anywhere else. During the winter, this means you will probably be eating an early dinner and hitting the hay, because the sun sets at 4 pm.

Near the entrance to Chernobyl City.

The outside of the Pripyat Hotel.

Although Chernobyl hosts about 17,000 tourists a year, the overwhelming majority opt for quick, one-day group tours during the summer. This is the economic choice. However, when visiting a city that is notorious for its isolation and emptiness, being surrounded by a bunch of chatty explorers can easily detract from the experience. I decided to invest $2,000 USD on a three-day, two night private excursion with a Ukrainian tour guide – who spoke very fluent English. I was kicking myself for blowing so much money in so little time (quick day-tours in a large group goes for about $80/person), but I was very thankful for my choice afterwards.

Lenin still hasn’t left Chernobyl City.

Enjoying a traditional Ukrainian lunch in the canteen near my hotel.

The Pripyat Hotel doesn’t get many visitors. The only other people I saw there were in the room right next to mine; unfortunately, I could hear them very well, even if I couldn’t understand what they were saying, because the walls were uncomfortably thin. It is cleaned, organized, supplied, and fully staffed by a single woman who only speaks Russian. They don’t have room service, Internet access, phones, and during my first night, toilet paper. There is no website to visit, or phone number to call to book a room. Logistics and reservations are made by one of the few licensed tour agencies that work with the Ukrainian government. The only guests are tourists that decide to spend the night in Chernobyl.

I’m ready for my stay!

Most structures in the Zone have the same “look”.

The view from inside the canteen’s restroom.

I am very interested in architecture. Growing up in southern California, I didn’t have to travel very far to see old Spanish missions, Victorian homes, or modern buildings. There are certain idiosyncrasies that I noticed exploring the Zone. One unique aspect was that double doors lead into everywhere: my individual room in the hotel, the “canteen” where the workers eat, and the apartment buildings in the abandoned city of Pripyat. By “double doors”, I mean that you have to open two different sets of doors to get in many of the rooms, which felt odd for the small accommodation where I was staying. It is kind of like having a mantrap in your bedroom, except the inner door doesn’t lock, and the outer one hardly closes. My hotel had two floors, and probably about 12 rooms. My room was quaint: three knee-high beds took up most of the ground area in the main room, which had just enough space to fit my one bag. I welcomed the colorful curtains that seemed to balance out the sad ambience of the uninhabitable buildings outside. The restroom: basic. It was interesting trying to take a shower in an elevated bathtub without a curtain. Sitting down while holding a bar of soap in one hand and the shower head in the other got the job done. I was thankful for the hot water, even if the pressure was low. I’d like to think all the exposed pipes make it easier for repair. A nice touch I noticed was that the plastic light switches in my hotel were exactly the same as the ones I saw in the Polissya Hotel that was abandoned 30 years ago – that’s when I knew my experience was authentic.