As you noticed from my last post, one of the aspects of this Russian life I enjoy the most is simply entering into the countryside. It is very practical for almost all city dwellers here in Russia to have a "dacha," outside the city. So normally, on the weekends, especially in the summer months, the roads are very congested leaving the city on Friday afternoon and even more on Sunday night. However, this slight congestion is worth every minute for the calmness and serenity that exists in this quiet country homes.
As a couchsurfer and a world-wide friendmaker, I found myself with the great oppurtunity to spend this last saturday and sunday with a family in their beloved dacha. It happened to be the father's birthday, so all of the family came out for the excursion. I thought possibly at first that I would be unwelcome, being a foreigner and not part of the family, but from the moment I arrived, I was greeted with OPEN arms of love and huge curiosity.
Even before I could close the car door, my friend Olga's 84 year old grandpa was giving me an earfull. He spoke russian and a bit of German, as do many older and elderly individuals, as in their hayday, German was the international language of choice.
I continued to share with him my true inability to fully comprehend his witty remarks in both Russian and German, but he continued to share away and soon began to ask questions galore about me...
Within a few minutes, the man of the hour, PAPA, stole me away from the family bombardment and began to show me his beloved Dacha.
Now this was not just a simple Dacha, this happened to be an old schoolhouse for children, so this place was HUGE. With two floors and an ample amount of space, this home was incredible. It had this old soviet type feel to it, just simply transcribed into wooden logs and large sleeping rooms. He gave me the thorough house tour, and before long, I was chopping wood, assiting him with his beehives and fully engrained into the beauty of this home and this loving father.
We soon sat down to begin our daily feast and my eyes were huge with anticipation with all the goodies laid before the table.
So as my appetite got quenched and my taste buds awakened, I soon feel deeply in love with the compassion, care and generosity of this family. The toasts also began, which in Russian tradition means a steady flow of Vodka.
Now, being that I am a bit older in my traveling and drinking days, my quench and love for alcohol is not quite the "necessity" that is used to be, however in this particular situation it is very customary and down right rude, not to partake in the vodka drinking aspect, especially for a birthday. So my liver tolerated the day's festivit
ies and honestly with the more toasts that were given, I felt my comprehension of Russian greatly increased....I also recalled a previous story while traveling through Minsk, in Belarus. My friend Charlie and I had been welcomed into the home of one of the Belarussian women we were traveling with..
By the end of the evening, I had drank more and eaten more than I every thought possible, all to the company of two older women who spoke zero english and two younger women who spoke very little. But as I recalled in this previous traveling adventure from many years ago, I always began to understand the fluidity of the language with increased Vodka...
Well back to this present divergence into the Russian dacha... As the day progressed, I soon learned I would be the man helping out to begin the festivities in the Banya.
For those of you who are unaware, the banya is basically the Russian Suana, customary especially in these Dacha homes. It is a two part wooden hut, one with a very strong burning stove and another with a washing room. In between these two rooms, is the space for eating very salty fish and drinking beer.
So, as being the father's helper with all aspects of this day, I started to load the stove up with firewood and begin the Banya..
As the fire started to heat up the hut, we went off to tend to the beehives...
Honestly, at this point, my hesitancy, if it ever did exist, was completely thrown out the door. In normal conditions, sans the vodka, I feel my brain would have kicked in a little bit harder about actually putting on an old beekeepers suit and tending these hives. However, in this exact situation, it was perfect, for I learned that actually the vodka helped calm any of my nerves and I soon realized that there was very little to fear around the bees. So for next time, I would gladly do the same, even without the prearranged nerve calmer...
The beehives were amazing to me and even more so how he laid out the traps to catch the wild bees and then bring them back to his home...
As the day progressed, soon I was informed to get naked and begin the Banya tradition. This was a interesting moment, for the place of the eating table and the place of the banya were relatively close, but like all other things through the day, I simply followed the lead of the father, who ginerly took off his suit and plunged into the outside pool.
He went over to get the salty fish and beer and I began to prepare for the extreme heat of the following hour or so....
Once inside the Banya, it is customary to take rolled up trees leaves and have your banya partner slap you furiously with these leaves...
Need I say more, that with a natural flow of beverages, and great food that this experience was incredible.... After jumping into the cold plunge pool, I got to experience the tastiness of the fruitful berries that were growing everywhere, my favorite being the blank curants...
Well I could continue on and on with this story, but essentially, this day helped me really discover the meaning and purpose within these Russian Dachas. For as the family works hard in the city during the week, living in the flat, the real inspiration and growth happens out here in the countryside. I saw the vibrance and energy that was felt and appreciated, giving each of them the strength and perseverance to work through their difficult weeks.
Now, this whole story takes place in the glory of the hot summer, and my taste buds and body temperature can only imagine the extremes had I been here in the beats of the cold Russian winter....
Maybe that is for another adventure, but for now, we left the dacha on Sunday, returning to Nizhny and the following day I hoped on the Russian Railroad to the city of Kazan, where my adventures are currently happening...
more for another day..
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