Sometimes the best journey is on your own backyard. Sometimes among the old trash, the biggest treasures are found there.
While I hesitated for a long time, where to go from our winter yudoli to Christmas holidays, as it often happens, my life itself put everything on the ground: thanks to the inexorable crown, the boundaries were closed and one Egypt was left with his obsessive arabami and high prices where not very And I wanted.
I have made a couple of insecure jerks there, deleted from the chat my thoroughly of an ignorable tour operator who did not want to answer my "stupid questions", and wanted to quickly get paid and thump me a ticket; I discolored everything with my relatives and made a very boring choice in favor of the winter holiday in the sad Belarusian sanatorium.
In life sooner or later, enlightenment comes when, finally, you understand that there are already busting and time to think about the soul ... or rather about health.
I hurriedly rummaged in nete and, as it happens in my ideal cases, without a flour of choice, without thinking that I chose between three sanatoriums, the fact that caused large emotions and a tide of a warm wave from the ambulance.
Sanatorium "Pliss", Deepskiy district, Vitebsk region. The worst, among the Belarusian forests and frozen swamps. Architectural neoclassic, pine forest, near the lake. Water, Bolvet, Sapropel, Phytquia, Smoothie ... Slow classical music, dull reflections of Pushkin lanterns in sparkling snow, vacationers, leisurely strolling, and no secular communication under coercion ...
The set and sound of seen species and words were pleasantly sacrificed in my heart, and the next day I booked a room overlooking the lake.
We left rather late than early. I was tired of going to leave the light either dawn, shaking the night in an uncomfortable posture and come when we were not yet ready to take - all for the sake of savings.
First, a half-empty minsk, then deeply to the city. Then I planned to get to the usual bus to the near village and, if necessary, walk a little walk in the winter landscapes.
Snow-covered rustic hollows with snakes smelled of pine smoke resin from pipes, cherry gardens and endless fields under heavy white Snow Snow, a thickening lead sky on the horizon, inspired by the Belarusian longing ... so our walk drew me.
But in fact it turned out that the bus from the city is late, and to our sanatorium go on foot at least 2 km, and even dimly.
Turning back and forth, I again, without any flour of choice and the usual desire to save a penny, took the first taxi. - I simply seemed a pretty calm face of the driver, which we also got calmly on a straight road to the final destination.
The first impression of the sanatorium was not disappointed - the health resort was big, new and exactly the same as in the pictures.
We were welcoming us, quickly issued, and in five minutes we were walking along the coated French, in Lilia, the carpet of the fourth floor corridor. And only the spurious echo of our tired steps we encountered us.
The room was pretty spacious, with ceilings clearly more than three meters. Two neat beds, large windows overlooking the pine forest and covered with white beds from the lake behind it. Shower, table, chair. Terry bathrobe, invitation to dinner on the table, quiet music behind the door ... Everything, as it should.
In the first night I did not fall asleep. Zero temperature All night dripped on the windowsill and on stretched nerves, the pillow seemed low, place a stranger ...
I also slept at home, various rituals and teas persuading yourself to fall asleep at least for midnight, at least in the morning. But the brain knew better, chasing his thoughts to-here on the tenth circle, stubbornly not wanting to obey and having his own plan on this.
I fell asleep in the morning, restless sleep, and already at eight brain I was fixed, ordering me to climb and go for breakfast and inspection of the neighborhood.
Breakfast was simple - the usual scrambled eggs, sausages, tea, coffee, and the like, but unusually excellently prepared. I discovered for myself that it turns out that you can completely banal foods - eggs and bread - prepare so that they will seem tastier than usual, other, new. The people were quite a bit, there are no queues, all in a leisurely sanatorium nirvana.
After breakfast, I hurried to bypass our new possessions for the week: ski rolled and Scandinavian sticks, Terrenkur through ate and pines, poorly frozen coast of pretty large lake with islets, swirling firs, in the middle. Everything is chinno, noble, neat. Only silence and peace. Only snow and pines. Only there and then ...
Thoughts flowed slower, not so disturbing and customizing a tired heart. I wanted to think about the eternal, about something more necessary and important, except for work or what is a banal scandal on YouTube and in social networks, which is stubbornly climbed into the inflamed brain.
That day we had the first baths: one mineral with hydromassage, the other relaxing with Melissa. It was nice and a little unusual, as the staff was attentive, suggesting and filing a towel, wondering how are you, and even a little smiling in response.
Our people are stingy on smiles, considering them something like weakness and fear to issue their sympathy and true feelings or just smiling a stranger. But it is so nice, and for both sides.
I don't really like to lie in the bath for a long time, but that time I liked it. Imagine the raging water, a slightly moving sea salt and hydrogen sulfide - not much, but only a slightly, steeping with jets firmly, but in moderation, in the spine, hips, knees and feet. Opposite you, a window with high pines in snow caps and slowly spinning snowflakes. Playing quiet music. The light is muted. You close your eyes and slowly swim, but not in the direction of eternal work, everyday worries and some other bustle, as usual. And somewhere else, unusual and still incomprehensible, with difficulty, but for sure. Somewhere else ...
Then there was a lunch. Very satisfying and masterfully cooked. It seems that we ate broccoli soup, very tasty, red fish under cheese, escalopa with baked potatoes, many vegetables and even more fruits ... drank «Sok Rosehnika», an incredible way mined in that sanatorium from Rosehip berries. Tried local mart and soufflé.
Then Darsonval Cleaway in the shoulders, salt cave, again relaxing tea in Phytobar ...
Massage, again bath, this time foamy, relaxing, relax again in a white coat with a cup of chitting in the bar. Nocturns of chopin and friendly faces of completely outsiders. "Be kind", "We are glad to see you" and "We will wait for you" ...
After sunset, the evening mound and promenade. French Bolve with its mineral water and sad palm trees behind glass, when stained glass windows, in five centimeters, is cold January. Decals of a young month on the blurred mineral waters of coastal stool near the shore of the lake, the impenetrable darkness on the other side and yellow light of the lanterns on this, creating an illusion that you are not in the 21st century, and in the century 19th, where cylinders, canes, crinolines , Pushkin, S'il Vous Plait ...
Ah, deceive me easy, I myself am happy to be deceived ...People in the sanatorium at first there were nothing at all. Sometimes on the evening walk at a distance of a kilometer, I came across one or two holidaymakers, and in the corridor of our floor and at all, as well as on the day of arrival, only a lonely echo of our steps and votes was walking.
But on the next weekend reception desk, the sanatorium was in the siege of the newly arrived fur coats and winter hats, new faces began to be found in the corridor, and a small queue was formed in the dining room. As it turned out, the bulk of arrivals was from Minsk, drove for the weekend. The other part, judging by the number of limousines in the parking lot, consisted of Muscovites and Peters.
Silence, so pleased and boring with unusual at the same time, replaced light hum and gomon not yet relaxed votes, driving out of different parts of extensive interiors. But even then, despite the arrival regiment, there was no feeling of crowds and crowding and irritation from the overaction of fussy human bodies on a close square meter.
In the morning, when it was too early to the first ablutions, we sometimes walked to play tennis and billiards. In the evenings - to the club, where the hoarse solo of a lonely saxophonist or a languid singing of some local singer, who singer about "Feelings" and "I Just Call".
Some, almost English, the primacy of the atmosphere, and generally the familiar Belarusian tension and pressure, stiffness and caution in everything, despite the so missing calm and silence, then and then I cause me light attacks of longing and nostalgia. Nostalgia by living human voices, natural liveliness of ordinary people. I frankly wanted "Treshchka". So that this primary atmosphere, where everything is so basic, but as if already died, not born, broke some sudden scandal, drove singing or just a hot philosophical dispute about anything about everything.
Still where a lot of education, little freedom. And where is little freedom, little life. The trained dog is cute dancing on the hind legs and shakes a trimmer-cuts under the approving glances of trainers, but is it a behavior of her natural behavior, her nature, her desire?
Three, a small scandal I soon waited. In our cave, a salt cave, where we were relaxing and breathed by the salts and something else, a large family came from five people: Mom, Dad and Three Girls. The oldest year 7-8 is the most quiet and independent, with a book; Middle, 5-6 years, although without a book, but also leading themselves, as accepted in public, modestly and intenno; And the youngest, 3-4 years old, the judge whim, from the first minute, producing more noise than all guests of the sanatorium combined.
Mom arranged with a napent sandbox in the corner of the cave, loading and unloading salt toys, which was there in abundance, loudly and not shy commenting on every movement.
It was seen on confident behavior and not muted decibels that Mom was of those moms who are very proud of their role and confident that the surrounding should divide this feeling.
But the surrounding did not divide. The first was the elderly lady opposite me, in clear discomfort from Homon at his back. Then he turned a little head towards the source of the incessant noise, she delicately decided:
- You excuse me, but I came here to rest, be treated ... And you don't seek ...
- Well, they are treated, who prevents you from? - Not the most husty tone, it was expected, Mama parried.
- You prevent. You don't seem to relax as you can relax here? - again continued delicately old woman.
"This is a child," Mama's familiarly parried. - And children are sometimes noisy.
"This is a room for relaxes, a quiet rest," I neatly supported the old woman, because I also began to disturb me in my back too. - It is advisable to behave a little more hidden.
But the scandal did not succeed, yes I did not want such a scandal. Mommy came out with the already splashing daughter, and dad with two others remained silently to absorb sea ions of salt.
To confess, it was nice to me that everything ended without much emotions. And it was joyful for the conscious mom and for, even if the dissatisfied, but not a scandalous old woman. And for myself, which is not in a hurry to criticize about himself, all sides, summarizing: "This is a man, Homo Vulgaris, such is its morals."
Still, it's nice when people in controversial situations seek to consensus and show mutual respect, even when they disagree with something, and not only look for flaws from others, strengthening in their claims. Do not hurry to finish before the opposite side your right and your rights. From this, the almost forgotten feeling of the human fraternity is born, vaguely lost unity, and not a feeling of such a habitual disunity and eternal confrontation.
We stayed there exactly eight days and nights. I and daughter. Our communication has not been so close, such trusted. Because this is the life for us, in many respects, do others. These are our conditions, our problems, our invisible walls of the conventions that are invisible to share.
I saw how the eyes of my girl came toval, with any pleasure she went to the procedures, as, usually quiet and closed, she, who led to the will, Rahwebs told about any chocolate wrap and his university life. About his life, which remained mostly closed for me.
We went to the pool together, drank juice and joined the smoothies, shared in honest thoughts and feelings.
But eight days and nights of a relaxing holiday flew. Flews so fast, even faster than I'm already used to, all good flies. (I still have sincere bewilderment and surprise - I can't get used to the light speed with which our days, weeks and months, years of our life, leaving the salty bitterness of memories on the lips, and in memory of the tart sweetness from the past moments Short happiness. And we can only remember, resurrect in the inevitably weakening with the time of memory those sweet moments - for what I write now these lines).
We were conducted as hospitably, as they met. They called a taxi and wished to return to us again, and we promised that we would return.
The road was easy. We are a homemade minibus to the nearest metro station in Minsk.
A short dinner in our "New Century" cafes on the Minsk train station, for "our" table, where we have always dinner when you drove to the station. (Someday, when I won't, my daughter, already an adult or even elderly, will leave or go back to Minsk. And she suddenly wants to eat, and her memory must, maybe he will behave there, in this cafe, for that The most table where she usually lunch with her father, returning from trips. And I "from there," from his next trip, maybe send an air kiss or carefully touched her cheek with my lips, which will be a little easier for her and a little warmer In this difficult life).
The hometown met us with real February frosts. We, in order not to freeze in anticipation of the minibus, took a taxi and already ten minutes later they felt each in their lives.
And I could only mentally repeat: until the next vacation, until the next holidays ...
Author - Igor Tkachev
Source - Springzhizni.ru.