Hello, my dear ones. I've had a pretty good last seven days, visiting four cities and one small village in Crimea. I should warn you right away that this will be written quite haphazardly.
My superstitious mother and cousin will likely remind me for a long time how I refused to "sit for the road" (a pre-departure ritual), claiming that's exactly why the journey to our destination wasn't very smooth. I won't go into details, but they were incredibly nervous and worn out throughout the trip. Of course, not like your Mr. Imperturbability™.
The destination was a small hamlet called "Yarkoye" — the venue for my own brother's wedding, not far from the village of Kirovo. From Chernigov, we took a bus to Kyiv, and from there a train, which delivered us to Dzhankoy the next day. It's an unremarkable town; we left it quite quickly by bus, heading toward some turn-off for Lenino. Getting off there, we entered a lonely cafe while waiting for my brother to come pick us up. There were few people in this cafe: only the owner, a woman who was apparently his wife, and some truck driver. We were sitting and sipping tea when then six people entered one by one. All of them in black coats, with stone faces. As we assumed, and as we were later told, they were most likely racketeers. To be honest, I thought those had long since disappeared. And what was funny is that they arrived in a black Lexus. :smile04:
And here is the destination:
one and
two (a perceptive eye will notice that these dilapidated houses have air conditioners and satellite dishes). That same hamlet I wrote about above. The house where the action took place isn't in any of the frames, but the gist should be clear, although their house is better than the others.
This was after the ceremony, leaving the building... What was it called? Doesn't matter, basically. I'm not hard to find; by chance, but shamelessly, I SQUEEZED in between the groom and the bride.
Next, we went to Kerch, and we had to kill time somehow until seven in the evening and not return before then — a wedding is a wedding, but the evening milking of the cows cannot wait. That's how it goes. In general, as can be judged by the photos, it was quite cold, so people threw jackets over their suits (or rather, those who were wearing them).
Here is
Kerch for you.
We also drove around and took some photos.
If I understood correctly, this girl, Nastya, is the bride's cousin. A pretty girl, pleasant and funny. Actually, my fondness for such children is probably caused by a strong desire to have a younger sister, bordering on a desire to have a daughter. This shot happened by chance; they were photographing the bride and groom again, and the two of us just went down and then ran back up. I don't even remember why. Either just because, or we wanted to warm up.
Then, upon returning, we sat at the table. There were about thirty to forty people in total. Relatives and local peasants. I can't recall anything specific. Some creepy music played all evening. I would have preferred some village live music in such a place and during such an event; however, instead, my ears had to listen to Russian and Ukrainian pop music the whole time. Regardless, I wasn't irritated, because I am Mr. Imperturbability™. In reality, it would be extremely foolish to get irritated over such small things, even if I have no sympathy for such music.
There was one creepy contest there too. First, they called up the mothers of the groom and bride. They wrapped a rope around their waists, and another rope was tied to that one from behind, with a handle attached at the end. What do you think they had to do with it? Vodka bottles were placed under the "participants," and this handle had to be placed inside through the neck without using hands. Both of them struggled for a while, missing several times, and in the end, the groom's mother won. Immediately after that, the bride's sister and the groom's brother — meaning me — were called to perform the exact same task. It took less than ten seconds. I didn't start swinging or try to hit the neck a dozen times; I simply steadied myself so the string wouldn't move and carefully placed the handle into the bottle neck. Nothing special, but funny.
Also, the next day, I caught the garter when the groom threw it.
Basically, what I want to say is this: it was my second time in my life visiting a village, and I can draw certain conclusions. People here are simpler, more open, not trapped in their own little worlds. Everyone is accustomed to working. They aren't as squeamish about things that would cause disgust in a city dweller. I think that for me, and others too, it would be great to live and work in such a place for half a year or a year; it would help gain useful skills in many things and also get rid of that very squeamishness. By the way, the owner of the house once suggested the rest of us drink "to this land that feeds us." And it's true: a city person cannot understand the feelings of such people who feel this way about their native land — the land where their children grow up and where they obtain food and money.
We stayed at the home of a Chechen woman, whom they called Aunt Tanya, although, as we later suspected, that is not her real name. A very kind, hospitable woman. Her house, by the way, is located far from others, about a kilometer away. In other words, literally — a lonely house in a field. The children go to school like that too: ten kilometers on foot to the village, and that's with wolves occasionally being there. And one night, waking up at five in the morning, I went outside to relieve myself. It was dark outside, and beyond the fence where I needed to go, a pack of dogs was barking and running around. Given a certain fear toward them, I stood there for a while, gave up on the idea, and went back to sleep. By the way, my mother once got her boots muddy, and imagine this: the hostess of the house cleaned them while we slept, without even telling anyone. I assume she did it not because it was required by some rules of etiquette, but simply out of kindness of heart.
One of her daughters, for that matter, really appealed to me. I can't remember her name, though. Either Zulfina or Zulfiya or something like that. Very beautiful, with a pleasant voice softened by a slight accent. Indeed, who needs East Asians when there are girls no less beautiful right next door. Well, that's just a lyrical digression.
Having finished with the wedding, we went to Feodosia, my hometown.
Most of my thoughts, as with the first part, got lost somewhere deep in my consciousness, so only separate moments.
What do you think
this is? It's the house where I lived until about six years old before leaving Crimea. Back then there was no gas, unlike today. And there is still no water to this day.
This is somewhere in one of the parks. Just Revan. Then I climbed onto two tall columns (one foot on each) and sort of squatted. I won't post the photo because it's very creepy, but three completely different people independently called me a spider.
During one of my days in Feodosia, I happened to come across digital photos and videos of my younger cousin, which caused something to boil up inside me. There she is, my little sister! Perhaps one of the very few moments when I regretted something. In my view, regretting something, and especially pitying oneself, is an extremely foolish activity, but then I was filled with thoughts that we could have grown up together, been friends, been a beloved brother and sister, and it felt as if this had been taken from me. For the next few days, including today, this thought has been spinning in my head.
The next destination was Simferopol, specifically — a decent house in a private area on the hills. This two-story house was temporarily handed over by my brother to his acquaintances while he is in Germany. It's quite cozy, but twenty-seven centimeter walls aren't very suitable for a house on a windy hill, which makes it rather cold inside.
One evening, my brother asked me to bring some firewood from outside and throw it into the stove. I immediately realized what I would have to face, of course, but there was nothing to be done. I already mentioned that since childhood, due to certain events, I have fears regarding dogs, and here this again led to an interesting situation. In the yard where the wood was left, there was a guard shepherd dog, which is exactly what I had to encounter. I couldn't just refuse and say "carry your own firewood, I'm afraid of dogs," right? So, you could say, overcoming myself, I went into the yard. Lord, as soon as I opened the garage door, I saw that face. It was very dark in the yard, and all the way while I walked to the wood and then while I stood by it, she ran around me and jumped on me. At one point, my legs even started to give way. I can boast of decent control in terms of never panicking, but you can't fight reflexes. In short, I am genuinely afraid of large dogs. I began thinking in my head how to gather the wood so that this thing wouldn't maul me or something. A memory immediately surfaced of someone telling me she loves to run after random things. And what did I come up with? I took a piece of wood and threw it aside so she would run after it while I quickly gathered the rest. I threw the last piece as far as possible, then walked briskly back to the garage and closed the door behind me. In general, I think I should somehow get rid of this phobia. I don't even know what to call it. Fear of large animals.
The next day was great, by the way. I chopped firewood for the first time. It's a very pleasant feeling when you put strength into a blow that subsequently splits the wood. I also put the already chopped pieces into a wheelbarrow and took them to the storage area myself. A pleasant fatigue after completed work, incomparable to the fatigue caused by mental activity. In the latter case, it's general exhaustion, sleepiness, sometimes a headache. But after physical work, there is muscle fatigue and soreness the next day.
Something else I noticed — a good lunch actually gives you strength.
I wanted to write many more things, but by the time I got home, I'd forgotten most of my thoughts.
Since I dropped out of college, I now plan to get myself in order. Over the last four months, I lost about ten kilograms; now I want to gain them back, with interest. I'll also sign up for swimming, because it's not right at my age not even to know how to do that, especially when a trip to the sea is in the plans. Since I have to pay off a loan for a laptop from my old card, there isn't much money, so I'll try to find some kind of work over the next three or four months. Since I am a very undemanding person and have few desires regarding things, you can guess that the money is needed for a specific purpose. I was pleasantly surprised that renting an apartment in many Crimean cities BEFORE summer is quite cheap, and that's why I want to live completely alone for a month or two at the end of spring. Besides, I really want to get in touch with my little sister. But we'll see how it goes.
