Dacha, bania, heat and snow

Sundatcha_1day night. I had just returned from France when my phone rang. The number was unknown, the voice was not. It was Yura’s, a friend I met obanian my trip to Lake Baikal. “Bratishka!”, he said to make sure I understood who he was. He was in Krasnoyarsk and proposed to repeat the experiment we had had at Lake Baikal: bania. “I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.” My last round in Russia started on the hook! Continue reading

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One evening in a dacha

datcha1

I had already tasted the small apples, that colleagues Interra had deposited on their table and I had often be spoken about datcha (дача, in Russian), but I had never seen one. When, an evening, I was offered to go to Aygul’s dacha with her mother and her brother, I agreed. Continue reading