A Family Visit to the Japanese Garden at Galitsky Park in Krasnodar

We flew into Krasnodar because it was our starting point for the next leg of our family's spring trip around southern Russia.

My wife had planned a visit to Galitsky Park in advance. I'd heard only a little about it: some guy named Galitsky built a stadium and a park next to it. That was the extent of my knowledge. Luckily, Masha knew a lot more and made sure we'd have a chance to visit.

I have to admit I wasn't expecting what I saw. The park and garden impressed me so much that I wanted to write about the experience on my website.

We had a reservation at some café, and I couldn't understand why Masha had made it so far in advance or why she was so worried that our delayed flight would make us miss it. Still, at 7:03 p.m. we were standing at the park entrance, frantically trying to figure out how to get into the Japanese Garden. As we walked along the edge of the park, I immediately noticed how beautiful and well maintained everything was. But we were in such a hurry that I couldn't take in the details.

A security guard admitted visitors to the Japanese Garden by scanning QR codes. Admission to the garden itself is free, but so many people want to visit that there's a digital queue. You can either wait in line for a free admission code or reserve a table and pay a deposit at the Japanese café inside the garden. Fortunately, Masha had booked ahead, and we walked right in without waiting.

The moment we entered, I was speechless. The garden was incredibly green, and the buildings were beautiful. It felt like I'd been transported to Japan itself. Rocks, a bamboo grove, ponds with fish, croaking frogs, flowering trees—everything was real, meticulously maintained, and just about perfect. I walked toward the café with my mouth open in amazement. My expectations had been close to zero, and the reality exceeded them beyond anything I could have imagined.

The café itself was a tidy Japanese-style house with solid wooden tables and chairs, stone steps, and an area covered in enormous natural boulders, some nearly as tall as I am.

The food was delicious, fresh, beautiful, simple, and distinctly Japanese: banana cocoa, Japanese pour-over coffee, a beef sandwich on Japanese toast, donuts, mochi—everything was incredible. Sitting outside was a pleasure. The kids climbed on the rocks while I played at stacking a tower of asymmetrical wooden 'stones.' If you can stack eight and take a photo, you get a free coffee. I managed it twice without much trouble, but I wasn't doing it for the freebie, so I didn't claim my coffee. After the café we walked through the garden, admiring its perfection. We arrived at sunset and left beneath a starry sky. There are so many details that make this place special. Above all, its authenticity. Nothing is fake. Every element has been crafted with care, love, forethought, and excellent materials: walkways, stairs, benches, buildings, lawns, rocks. It's built to last. Nothing wobbles or creaks. The park is spotless. I happened to notice an empty bag of nuts someone had dropped and couldn't just walk past it—I picked it up, even though I can't say I always do that.

Afterward, we walked through the main park. It's enormous, beautifully landscaped, and just as meticulously maintained. I especially loved a monumental metal sculpture depicting a seated green woman tenderly embracing a mirrored Earth.

Why am I writing all this? Because one person paid for all of it—a person who truly loves his city and its residents. I admire him. I believe that if everyone tried to do something not only for themselves but for others, we'd live in a different world. I'm grateful to him. We should learn from his example and aspire to that level.