The first term of Zolotoi Kolos has ended and everyone has packed up and shipped out except the two inostrantsi (foreigners). So it is a whole new camp for us, and a much better one I think. I don't know if the last group was just a bad bunch or if eight weeks of ordering kids around does that to you, but the new people are much more friendly and enthusiastic and mature and laid-back. They're not all set up in cliques and routines, and I know enough to be more helpful, so I finally feel like part of things. And the two other counselors I work with and I actually played a game with the kids on the beach, which was unheard of with the last counselors. It is great to see people caring more about the kids. I won't ever see Svetlana again, although she was quite good comic relief and also the type that inspires one to be a better person. Still, I did not weep at our parting.
The guy who replaced Number Two (aka Christmas in June, aka Santa Claus in Speedos) is friendlier and less obtuse, and the fizruks haven't gotten drunk on their powers yet. My new bunch of kids comes from a school that specializes in boxing, kickboxing, tae kwon do, and gymnastics, and they're also friendly and cool.
The excursion Joslin and I went on to the waterfalls at Sochinsky National Park last Wednesday was a lot of fun. The day started off with a brilliant sunrise rainbow over the sea all the way across the sky to the hills, and our bus was (relatively) new and comfortable. Since we paid the outrageous sum of $11, we were guaranteed seats, which is always lovely at 6:00 a.m. (The first excursion we went on to Sochi, the Belarussians got on the bus first and got the last seats, so Joslin and I had to stand up during the two hours to Tuapse.) Our tour guide was an older man in an olive green tank top with a round head of close-cropped white hair and big square glasses, and we called him The Turtle.
This excursion was for Russians by Russians, and it was interesting to see such a local bunch of tourists. It would be like us visiting the fort at Ft. Smith or taking a guided tour to Robber's Cave. We drove up to an outlook with a good view of a valley and then visited a tree that is famous for some reason we couldn't make out. I think some Decembrists planted it during the 19th century, but to us it was just a tree surrounded by stands selling local food and wines.
The highlight of the trip was supposed to be Vodapadi, a series of 33 waterfalls somewhere in the National Park, but the real highlight was getting there. Our bus stopped at a little restaurant in the middle of nowhere where we could use the restroom. (The excursion could have been called "Northern Caucasus Outhouse Tour," because we stopped at one every couple of hours at least.) Then we were loaded like pigs in a watermelon truck into some giant 4WD army surplus all terrain vehicles that ground and splashed their way across a long rocky river valley sometimes through four feet of water. It was better than a roller coaster, and fun to laugh with a truckful of bouncing Russians. The valley was gorgeous, the landscape white and rocky, almost lunar, with ribbons of clear blue water running through it like veins, and the lush green hills started immediately on both sides of it.
When we got there, there was the usual throng of people with exotic animals trying to get you to pay to take a picture with them, and the waterfalls themselves were not bad. The tallest one was 33 feet and not overly spectacular, and the view of almost every single one was blocked by some guy in Speedos posing in front of it. But down at the bottom there were places selling blissfully hot and fresh fried cheese pastries (it can be hard to find much fresh to buy because people just don't buy much, so after you bake a batch of something, often they sit around for days before you can unload them). Further down was a row of stands selling homemade wine that you couldn't walk down without being begged to give everyone's particular variety a try. I found occasion to go down that row more than once. If you decided to buy some wine, they'd pour it into a used (and I assume cleaned) Pepsi bottle and hand it over. I also tried some moonshine vodka and cognac--krepkiy stuff. Seeing kon'yak spelled in Russian made me giggle, but it didn't take much to make me giggle after a few trips down wine row.
Then we got back in the Lunar Rovers, and after another lovely busride through the hills we were back at camp. It was sad seeing our kids go on Sunday, but on Monday when the counselors cleared out, Joslin and I went into town and had dinner together to celebrate. And already today is better than almost any day before, and it seems like it'll keep up. Especially if the kids teach me some tae kwon do and boxing. I asked one of the particularly bright and friendly boys to show me some of his moves, and he got another boy his size, and the two of them took on this Goliath of a teenager at kickboxing, it was like Darby O'Gill vs. the Little People, but the kids had good form and were full of good-natured energy.
Some of the girls have already started joining me for my nightly runs, and another little boy came up to me once and said, "Shto eto takoe..." ("What is it exactly...") and I thought he would show me an interesting rock or something, but instead he said, "Kiss my ass?" I tried to think of how to explain it in Russian, but then I shrugged and kissed my hand and slapped my backside, and the older kids liked that. I find it hilarious that one of the trainers who came with the children has a shirt that he wears all the time that says in English on the front and down one sleeve, "Sucker Wear." I haven't decided yet whether to tell him or not.
My co-counselors, Roxana and Katya, are cool and Belarussian, and they know a little bit of English and also know how to talk to me in ways I'm more likely to understand. (No, Sveta, it doesn't help to make your eyes real big and talk in a high-pitched voice while you blink and nod a lot.) Roxana has told me some interesting stories about her home and the former Soviet world in general. She's got a bit of the philosopher to her.
Joslin's new group is from a Detskiy Dom (children's house, or orphanage) from Krasnodar, and the woman who works at the Dom and came down to oversee the kids is my new roommate. She has a tape player and hot water pot, and she often makes me tea or coffee (NesCafe). I feel like I'm living in the Hilton now. (Er, not quite.) She also brought some home grown vegetables, and yesterday we split the biggest densest sweetest reddest tomato I'd ever eaten. "Eto nastoyashiy pomidor." Joslin's kids are also sweet even though they have been through some pretty bad stuff. I think Russians don't stigmatize some of those things as much or send people to therapy for them. It's just kind of like, bad stuff happens, make the best of it. It's less of a hand-holding society.
Tomorrow Joslin and I have another free day, and we'll get up at 5:30 am to catch a bus to Krasnodar, a real city. We've been all up and down the coast but haven't ventured inland much, so this should be interesting. I'm down to my last 120 rubles ($4), so I need to get to an ATM anyway, and who knows how much of such a city we can do with so little time, but we'll see. Maybe next week we'll sleep.
Write if you can, Liubov', Pam