Discover the two sides of Arbat in Moscow

Many know Arbat as a bustling pedestrian street in central Moscow. Crowds drift along it, music hangs in the air, portrait artists set up their easels, and souvenir shops beckon visitors. Step just off the main route, though, and another Arbat comes into focus—quieter, cozier, more authentic. It is more than a street: a place with a rich past where the spirit of old Moscow still lingers.

When Arbat was something else entirely

Until the eighteenth century, Arbat sat on the city’s edge. Blacksmiths and artisans lived and worked here; shops traded, the roads kicked up dust, and the houses were wooden. It was a working corner of Moscow, with no pomp and certainly no tourists.

As time went on, the area filled with grander homes. The nobility moved in, and later came writers, actors, and artists. The street gradually turned into a cultural hub where people of art and learning crossed paths.

How the street changed over the years

In the twentieth century, Arbat changed dramatically. A tram began running along the street in 1908. In 1942, wartime bombing destroyed many buildings, and the Vakhtangov Theatre was among the losses. In 1952, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building rose nearby—one of the famed Stalinist high-rises.

And in 1986, Arbat became the first street in Moscow closed to cars. Since then it has been a pedestrian zone—made for walking, music, and street performances. Yet behind the noisy frontage lies a different world.

What longtime residents recall

The Museum of Moscow’s project Moscow Without Outskirts gathered stories from people who have lived on Arbat for years. Those recollections became part of exhibitions and outdoor installations. These aren’t tourist tales but lived memories—of courtyard childhoods, of neighbors, of how the street felt in different eras.

That Arbat is hard to spot from the outside; it reveals itself to those willing to listen. It feels less like a tour and more like a personal encounter with the city.

Arbat alive today

Today Arbat is more than an address. Something is always happening: artists draw on the pavement, musicians play without a stage, actors rehearse beside the theaters. The mood is loose and free—life unfolding without strict rules or scripts.

But the details matter most: a plaque telling a house’s story, an old shop sign, an unusual door, graffiti in a side lane. These small things turn Arbat from just a street into a world of its own.

Two Arbats side by side

The tourist Arbat can be lively—mimes, souvenirs, cafes. Step a little aside and you reach a different Arbat: quieter, more genuine, where everyday lives play out and real stories take shape.

Conclusion

Arbat isn’t simply a pretty street in the center of the capital. It has a character and a mood you won’t grasp in a single walk. What counts are not only the buildings and monuments but the voices of the people who live and work here—and remember.

If you want to see Arbat as it really is, don’t rush. Wander without a map, slip into the lanes, and listen to what the walls seem to say. The true Arbat isn’t for quick photos, but for those who know how to notice.