The Baskerian Village

July 10, 2004

📷 I met Arnold Schwartzeneggar while working in Baskeria (Russia). Ok, ok, its not him really but he looks like him. I spent a few days off with Gleb and his wife Dina, and their kids (not to mention a couple dozen relatives) in their village. The time there is worthy of a story:

📷 We headed out from Ufa, the capital of this autonomous region in south central Russia, driving through the picturesque countryside for about 1 ½ hours to the village. We must have passed through a time warp along the way, because let me tell you the village was like something out of National Geographic. Babushkas, (grandmothers) their heads wrapped in colorful scarves, sat in front of many of the houses that we passed. Grizzled old men with funky clothes and hats herded sheep and goats through the main street (which resembled a muddy, dung covered, motocross track) past the village mosque. This town is, as most are here, predominately Moslem, but, here’s lies the paradox, most of the people here drink (copious amounts of) vodka and eat pork. The houses are all multicolored shacks (by our standards), in some cases pieced together with scraps of wood, metal siding or whatever else that works. Chickens, ducks, cows, dogs and horses wandered freely around the town and, in people’s yards. The inside of Dina’s aunt’s house resembled the hunting camp I used to go to with my father, only after there was a big party. Sanitation and safety was next to nil. Did I mention the er, ah, um, facilities? An outhouse in the yard with just a diamond cut in the floor. Unfortunately Mother Nature called during our time there so I got firsthand experience on how to use it (enough about that!). But they DID have REAL toilet paper and not last night’s newspaper (I’ve even seen pages of books used for TP!!) like many toilets that I’ve visited in Russia.

Having said all that, the balance then swung the other way. The hospitality was OUTSTANDING!!! Did I say outstanding? Yes outstanding! I was welcomed here like a king by his family. Dina’s sixty-something year old aunt even spoke some English!! Most of the customers in Russia that I deal with on a regular basis don’t speak as much English as this older lady in this backwater village! It literally “blew me way”.

📷 After some time in the village we traveled across pastures to reach a picturesque lake. A few other people were camping or picnicking along the shore as well. We had a wonderful picnic complete with swimming and, of course toasts of vodka for everyone, male or female, over 16. The pork and chicken, barbequed over an open fire was absolutely delicious! The meat was previously marinated in…. mayonnaise! Mayonaise, salt and fresh cut dill and parsley. What a fantastic combination. I got elected to cook the meat. Little did they know that I have very little experience in this department. But it all turned out good. The picture is of me and some of the kids around the grill. Two of us are doing the “patented” (as I call it) “squat” (only sitting!!). You see a lot of people in South Russia and the former republics like Kazakhstan, Uzbeistan, Tajikhistan, etc.. “squatting at the side of the road waiting for the bus.

When we got back to the village that night we all had a “banya” in a clapboard sauna in Dina’s aunt’s backyard. Just thirty minutes in the herb filed vapors of a Russian banya is enough to revitalize anyone. I came out feeling reborn (a born again Russian maybe?). And definitely no problems sleeping later that night either.

Whenever we were at the house, tea was constantly served. We’re not talking Tetley or Red Rose either. Earlier in the day, Dina’s sister had gathered herbs and wild strawberries. Only this went into the teapot and, when it had sufficiently steeped, was poured out, through an attached strainer, into each cup. Black currant jam, fresh from their garden held a prominent place on the table and was either spread on cookies or put right into tea or hot water (morse) to make an even tastier drink. Beside it was fresh milk, homemade cheese and mounds of steaming “pelmenks”, a kind of potato filled donut.

📷 The next morning we headed back out to the lake. Today, unfortunately, the group camping next to us, served us up some alcohol fueled problems. A severely intoxicated “no neck” camping farther down the lake accused one of the boys of stealing his kids sandals. Sparing all the details, we decided to find a new place to picnic after he and his buddies took to “doing high-speed donuts” in the field beside us in their ancient Lada.

Across the cow pastures we went again until we stopped at a clearing beside a large river. It turned out to be a beautiful place in its own right, under a huge tree with a panorama that stretched for miles. Fishing yielded nothing so the barbeque was loaded only with marinated chicken. Again toasts were made as we all enjoyed the rest, far from the madness of city life. When we were all sufficiently sunburned, the cars were packed and we bounced off across the field for the village. A stop at a cow pond, one that I wouldn’t have given a second glance to, meant a swim for everyone. The water was clear, cool and refreshing after our time in the sun.

By the time we got back to the village it was beginning to get dark (10:30 at night). We decided it was time to start on the trek home after a cup of tea and, at Dina’s Uncle Hamid’s insistence, a toast or two of vodka “Nas darovia”. With that we said our goodbyes, climbed in the car and headed back to Ufa.