Firstime experience white nights in St Petersburg, Russia

As I mentioned in my previous article, understanding Russian culture takes time. Some things seem unusual at first, and the White Nights are one of them. For people living in St. Petersburg, summer is a season worth celebrating. The city stays bright late into the night, and instead of staying indoors and going to bed early, people make the most of the long daylight hours outside.

In Malaysia, where I come from, there are really only two kinds of weather we talk about: rainy and sunny. Our days are fairly predictable too, with daylight from around 7 a.m. until 7 p.m. We are lucky to have beautiful sunrises and sunsets almost every day.

But St. Petersburg was something I had never experienced before.

During my visit, Fajr began at around 2 a.m., with sunrise only about an hour later. I also learnt that blackout curtains are almost essential in summer. Without them, children can struggle to sleep, because the sky stays bright even when it is technically night.

Then came the White Nights, when there was hardly any night at all.

It was already 10 p.m., yet the sky was still glowing with the last light of sunset. The city did not look as though it was getting ready for bed. People were still out walking the streets, sitting by the river and enjoying the unusual brightness. That night, Kak Mona, who was travelling with me, and I decided to take a cruise along the Neva River to watch one of St. Petersburg's famous drawbridges open.

From the boat, we could see the Winter Palace, historic buildings, and several of the city's bridges. The weather was pleasant. The city itself felt rather flat to me, and at times the cruise was a little boring because the boat moved so slowly. Some of the architecture reminded me of France, especially the grand European-style buildings along the river.

"Woooooh!"

Cheers erupted from every direction. People clapped, laughed, and shouted. Some raised their drinks into the air, while others stood up to take photos. Music started playing from some of the boats, and groups of friends began singing. Our boat stopped for a while near one of the bridges, almost as if the captain had chosen the best spot for us on purpose. Around us, more tourist boats and private boats began filling the river. Some had music playing. Some were watching football, while others were partying and cheering. A few people were clearly drunk, shouting across the water. But the atmosphere on our boat was much quieter. The Russian family sitting next to us stared ahead with serious faces, and there was little conversation. Everyone seemed to be waiting patiently for the moment the bridge would finally open.

At exactly 1:12 a.m., about twelve minutes later than scheduled, the bridge began to move. Slowly, its two halves started to rise. And suddenly, something changed.

What surprised me most was how quickly people began interacting with one another. People on neighbouring boats waved at us. Strangers smiled at each other. Whenever another boat passed beneath the open bridge, everyone cheered together. Just minutes earlier, everyone had been waiting in silence; now, for the first time that night, I noticed how happy everyone looked. Along the riverbanks, groups of young people sat together holding bottles, singing and cheering at every passing boat. From a distance, we could hear "Woooooh!" echoing back and forth.

The entire Neva seemed alive.

I remember looking around and thinking, Ah, so this is how they celebrate their summer.

Then I looked up, and the sky caught my attention just as much as the bridge had. It was past 1 a.m., yet it was still bright.

I turned to Kak Mona and said, "Nanti kejap lagi dah Subuh dah, Kak." (It'll be Subuh soon, Kak!)

She laughed and replied, "Inilah istilah mak-mak dulu… keluar malam, balik pagi." (This is what our mothers used to call it… going out at night and coming home in the morning.)

We both burst out laughing.

The sky still looked like Maghrib, but on the horizon the sunlight was already returning. It felt as though the sun had barely set before rising again. At the same time, the lights of the bridges, the historic buildings, the Winter Palace, and the streets along the Neva began to glow. Their golden reflections shimmered on the river, blending with the bluish White Nights sky.

For a moment, St. Petersburg looked like a painting.

Looking back, what stayed with me most was not the bridge, or even the sky. It was the people. For most of the night, everyone around us had been quiet, simply waiting and watching. But the moment the bridge began to rise, their faces changed. They smiled, laughed, cheered, and reached out to the people around them, even to us, complete strangers on another boat. It made me realise that sometimes you don't need to speak the same language to share the same happiness.

I came to St Petersburg as a traveller, curious about the White Nights and eager to see the famous bridges open. But that night, I felt I was witnessing something more personal: a small part of how the people of this city enjoy their summer. For them, the White Nights are not just something beautiful for tourists to photograph. They are a season people wait for, a reason to stay out a little longer, meet friends, laugh, drink and enjoy the city. They are about experiencing a city when the line between night and morning almost disappears.

For a few minutes, we were all celebrating the same thing.

Different languages. Different countries. Different lives.

But the same happiness.

That, for me, was the real beauty of the White Nights.

From Surah Al-Hadid (57:20),

^{ٱعْلَمُوٓا۟ أَنَّمَا ٱلْحَيَوٰةُ ٱلدُّنْيَا لَعِبٌۭ وَلَهْوٌۭ وَزِينَةٌۭ وَتَفَاخُرٌۢ بَيْنَكُمْ وَتَكَاثُرٌۭ فِى ٱلْأَمْوَٰلِ وَٱلْأَوْلَـٰدِ ۖ كَمَثَلِ غَيْثٍ أَعْجَبَ ٱلْكُفَّارَ نَبَاتُهُۥ ثُمَّ يَهِيجُ فَتَرَىٰهُ مُصْفَرًّۭا ثُمَّ يَكُونُ حُطَـٰمًۭا ۖ وَفِى ٱلْـَٔاخِرَةِ عَذَابٌۭ شَدِيدٌۭ وَمَغْفِرَةٌۭ مِّنَ ٱللَّهِ وَرِضْوَٰنٌۭ ۚ وَمَا ٱلْحَيَوٰةُ ٱلدُّنْيَآ إِلَّا مَتَـٰعُ ٱلْغُرُورِ ٢٠}

^{Know that this worldly life is no more than play, amusement, luxury, mutual boasting, and competition in wealth and children. This is like rain that causes plants to grow, to the delight of the planters. But later the plants dry up and you see them wither, then they are reduced to chaff. And in the Hereafter there will be either severe punishment or forgiveness and pleasure of Allah, whereas the life of this world is no more than the delusion of enjoyment.}

Thx for reading
15th June 2026