In winters when the air itself seems to freeze mid-breath and temperatures fall below minus 50 degrees Celsius, life in Yakutsk does not pause. More than 300,000 people live in this far-eastern Siberian city where the cold shapes not only daily routines, but the very design of homes. Housing here is not about luxury. It is about survival, cost, and warmth, stitched together over decades of trial and error on permanently frozen ground.
Three broad types of homes dominate the city today: old wooden two-storey houses, Soviet-era concrete apartment blocks, and newer residential complexes. Each reflects a chapter in Yakutsk’s urban history, as well as the economics of living on permafrost.
The ageing wooden two-storey houses
Scattered across neighbourhoods are the city’s oldest surviving residential buildings, known locally as “dvohetashki”, or two-storey wooden houses. Built mainly between the 1960s and 1980s, more than a thousand of these structures still stand. Many families have lived here for generations.
At the entrance, two doors are standard, creating a buffer against the brutal outdoor air. Inside, the common stairwells feel worn by time. Mailboxes line the walls, and a small bench near the door often becomes a quiet social point where neighbours exchange news in heavy winter coats.
Apartments here are modest but functional. A small kitchen with a gas stove opens into a combined living and dining space with a TV and refrigerator. There is usually one compact bedroom and a bathroom with both hot and cold running water. Comfort is simple and practical.
Costs remain the main attraction. Monthly rent starts at about 15,000 rubles, roughly $180. Utility bills average around 5,000 rubles, or $60. Buying a small flat costs close to 3 million rubles, about $37,000. For many, this is the most affordable entry point into city housing.
But the threat beneath these homes is invisible and relentless. Yakutsk sits on permafrost, and heat from buildings slowly softens the frozen soil. As the ground weakens, houses tilt, walls crack, and floors sink unevenly. Once symbols of promise for workers who arrived decades ago, many of these wooden structures now show their age. Government resettlement programmes are gradually shifting residents into safer buildings, yet a significant number still live in homes that time and climate have compromised.
Soviet-era concrete blocks on stilts
The next layer of housing arrived with Soviet mass construction. Known locally as KPD, short for “large-panel building”, these concrete apartment blocks went up across the Soviet Union from the 1960s to the 1980s to meet severe housing shortages. In Yakutsk, they were adapted for permafrost in a crucial way: built on raised pillars.
The open space beneath allows cold air to circulate, preventing heat from melting the frozen soil underneath and helping keep buildings structurally stable. More than 250 such blocks stand across the city, housing thousands of families.
From the outside, they look uniform, grey and box-shaped. Inside, however, the stories vary. A typical KPD flat has one or two rooms, a compact kitchen, and a bathroom with a toilet, sink, bathtub, and a heated towel rail that serves an essential winter function. Many one-bedroom units combine the living and sleeping areas into a single space, often opening onto a small balcony.
Utilities for a one-bedroom apartment cost around 8,000 rubles a month, about $98, covering heating, gas, water, and electricity. Monthly rent averages 45,000 rubles, roughly $550. Purchase prices hover near 5.5 million rubles or about $67,000, depending on location.
Some walls appear darker where owners have added extra insulation to fight the cold that seeps through ageing concrete panels. Construction quality varied widely in the Soviet period, and not all panels aged equally. Despite such shortcomings, these buildings remain a backbone of urban housing and are widely considered solid, if unglamorous, places to live. Many residents grew up in similar apartments and return to them as adults.
The rise of modern residential complexes
Newer housing tells a different economic story. One of the best-known modern developments is Prometey, a sprawling residential complex of more than 20 mid- to high-rise buildings with 9 to 16 floors each. Between 10,000 and 20,000 people are estimated to live here.
The design reflects contemporary urban planning: schools, daycares, shops, playgrounds, and heated parking are all within the complex. Heated parking is not a luxury in Yakutsk. It is a necessity when engines can freeze solid overnight.
Apartments here feel brighter and more standardized. A typical one-bedroom flat of about 40 square metres includes a small kitchen with gas supply, a combined bedroom-living area, a bathroom with a shower, and a compact balcony. The layout mirrors modern city apartments worldwide, adapted for extreme cold through better insulation and multiple entrance doors to trap heat.
A one-bedroom apartment in such a complex costs around 6 million rubles, or roughly $74,000. Utility bills range between $60 and $70 a month. Being farther from the city centre keeps rents relatively lower for modern housing, starting near 40,000 rubles or about $500 per month. For young families, these areas offer cleaner surroundings, planned infrastructure, and a sense of stability that older neighbourhoods often lack.
Private houses and practical limits
Some residents choose private houses for greater space, fresh air, and small gardens. Yet this option carries unique challenges in Yakutsk. There is no central sewage system for most private homes. Water is stored in tanks rather than delivered through running pipes, and long drives to the city centre are common. Heating such houses through winter demands constant fuel, maintenance, and expense. The trade-off between independence and infrastructure is stark.
Economics under the ice
Across all housing types, one theme dominates: heat is the true currency of comfort. Buildings are judged less by elegance than by how well they hold warmth. Double and triple doors, thick insulation, heated stairwells, and constant utility supply define livability far more than floor plans.
The city’s transformation mirrors shifts in the broader economy from the era of the Soviet Union to today’s market-driven development. Old wooden houses represent a time of state-led expansion, KPD blocks reflect industrial mass housing, and modern complexes signal private investment and rising consumer expectations.
Yet beneath all of it lies permafrost, slowly changing as climate patterns shift. Buildings that once stood firm now lean. Engineers adapt with stilts and new materials. Policymakers debate relocation and redevelopment. And residents, like generations before them, focus on what matters most when winter descends: a warm room, a reliable heater, and walls that hold back the cold.
In Yakutsk, homes are not just shelters. They are quiet negotiations between human life and one of the harshest climates on Earth.
