Summer Festival’s Joy Dims for Tired Russians : Culture: The struggle to earn a living excludes many in St. Petersburg from annual White Nights celebration.

Jabbing her twig broom between meandering tourists and staggering drunks, Rima Radionova attacked the day’s debris, with each stroke expressing her anger and frustration.

The sticky ice-cream wrappers, limp banana peels and crumpled soda cans piled high in her garbage can reminded her of the White Nights Festival--a celebration of summer from which she, like many other Russians, felt excluded.

“I have no time to celebrate,” the 51-year-old Radionova said, pointing down Nevsky Prospekt at the long stretch she still had to sweep. “There’s much more garbage these days. The tourists leave a lot of trash.”

Traditionally, the White Nights--observed during part of June, when daylight lasts for almost 19 hours--offer St. Petersburg residents an opportunity to revel in their city’s charm with all-night parties and promenades.

But this year the White Nights seem to have brought more despair than joy.

After long weekends spent hawking handicrafts and flowers to supplement their salaries, many Russians say they simply do not have the energy, or the desire, to celebrate.

And when they compare this lackluster attitude to their high-spirited partying just a few years ago, Russians of all ages say they are shocked at how single-minded they have become in their struggle to keep up with inflation.

“We just don’t have the time or the strength to worry about cultural and spiritual things now,” Maria Tselik said, echoing a common sentiment.

A doctor during the week, the 24-year-old Tselik spends her free time peddling roses outside a ritzy downtown hotel, earning as much in two days on the street as she does in a month at the hospital.

“Our people are very anxious about their pockets,” said Vladimir Salateyev, a 34-year-old engineer.

“Celebration and joy are impossible because we are waiting for hunger,” he added gloomily, tucking a blanket more tightly around his 6-month-old son.

In addition to this fear of the future, St. Petersburg residents said the exclusivity of the White Nights Festival further sapped their urge to celebrate.

Although banners trumpeting the festival hung throughout St. Petersburg’s elegant downtown, residents soon discovered that the four-day extravaganza catered primarily to foreign tourists and Russia’s emerging wealthy.

Tickets to Sunday’s gala concert, featuring musicians from around the world, cost $250--paid in dollars or other hard currencies.

Other musical events were open only through the official festival sponsors, although a few tickets did make it to the black market, where they sold for about 150 rubles. That’s 10 times the price of a ticket to the renowned Kirov Ballet and beyond the reach of most Russians, who earn an average of 2,000 rubles a month.

“The festival is very expensive--only for foreigners,” 19-year-old Varya Yerasimenko said wistfully, tugging at the green helium-filled balloon tied to her wrist.

“We envy the foreigners,” added her friend, Natasha Sukhova. “They have such happy faces.”

The only weekend events open to everyone were the traditional White Nights marathon, which started at 10 p.m. Saturday under cloudy skies and proceeded in a downpour, and a half-hour fireworks show in the drizzly dusk over the Peter and Paul Fortress at 1 a.m. Sunday. On Monday, a public concert was held in the spacious plaza outside the Hermitage Museum.

“In these difficult times, we really need a holiday for the people,” said Oleg Agafonov, who organized the free outdoor concert.