Chapter Fifteen

Our vacation package to Egypt was booked for the end of December. Now it was the middle of November and Mike asked, “Can we go somewhere else till December comes? To the Crimea, for example? I heard from my friends that it’s a wonderful place and there is a lot to see.”

The Crimea, of course, was a nice place to visit in summer, and I loved going there in the off-peak season, when the sun wasn’t burning the skin, the number of people on the beaches and in the city was much smaller and the price for food and hotels was falling, but I said nothing to change his mind. Dwelling and food prices were now probably even lower. And besides, I just wanted to travel, to see the world, and just take a break from everyday life and its problems.

The Crimea left Mike with the most pleasant impression. Mike, this friend of mine, an open and positive person, appreciated everything he saw with interest, and though he compared it all to Alaska, he was able to recognize the beauty and dignity of my country.

I was grateful to him for that and became more and more attracted to this stranger.

After visiting the Siege of Sevastopol panorama, Mike greatly surprised me, sharing his knowledge about the Crimean War in the middle of the Nineteenth Century, about the history when England and France united to oust Russia from the Balkan Peninsula and the Black Sea. As it turned out, the comedian Zadornov was wrong in his humorous stories, where he claimed that all Americans were stupid.

We both admired with great pleasure the rooms of the Vorontsov Palace, each of which was unique and individual, complete with exhibitions presented there, and a lovely park in which to walk.

But of the greatest interest for us was Livadia Palace, bought in 1834 by Count Lev Pototsky. Later it became the residence of the Emperor Alexander II, and Alexander III died there. Here the imperial family of Nicholas II spent their summers. In February 1945 Stalin, Roosevelt, and Churchill gathered here for the famous Yalta Conference.

Mike seemed to be glued to the pictures depicting this life-changing event and only very strong force could move him on through the exhibit.

Then there were the ruins of the ancient city Chersonesus, which was a Greek colony in 528-529 years BC, and the Modern Botanical Garden, fresh and fragrant. Everything was so unusual and new for my American guest. America counts only two hundred years of history, therefore the history of Ukraine with thousands of years shocked him. Mike was surprised with the antiquity of our culture, that we were trying to protect it, and were really proud of it.

The weather was cold as always in autumn, but that didn’t stop us from visiting the world famous Swallow’s Nest Italian restaurant in Gaspra, housed in a chateau fantastique built in 1912, and the extraordinary Glade of Fairy Tales in Yalta, filled with the wooden statues of characters from our fairy tales. There it was a big challenge to somehow explain to Mike who was who among those figures.

“Polina, and who is that?” Mike asked me, pointing to a statue with ears the size of its head, which stood next to the figure of a crocodile.

“That’s Cheburashka.”

“Who is the Cheburashka? Is that a bear cub, born in Chernobyl?”

“No! Chernobyl has nothing to do with him!” I burst out laughing. “It’s just a toy. From a book. Imaginary one.”

But Mike stubbornly saw a fat little bear cub with huge ears, even if not from Chernobyl. So for now I had to agree to “just a bear cub with big ears.”

We were walking a lot, talking, laughing, and fooling around like kids. Mike turned out to be cheerful, inquisitive, and light on his feet.

“Dushka, look! And who is that?” asked Mike, pointing to the figure of Tiiani-tolkai, from a fairy tale about Dr. Aybolit, a veterinarian. It looks like an antelope, or a horse with two heads, and is a close friend of Dr. Aybolit, whose Russian name means “Dr. Oh-It-Hurts.” At first I tried to explain who this imaginary animal was, which was also not an easy task, and then wondered, “Where did you hear this word, dushka?”

It turned out that Mike heard it in the bar car of the train, where we looked in for a dinner on our way here. There one of the drunken customers used it addressing a waitress. She didn’t get offended, and even laughed, so Mike concluded that the word was good, remembered it, and decided I would be pleasantly surprised.

I was surprised, so he was extremely happy and pleased with himself.

Back home, in December we repacked our bags and went off to the land of legends and Pharaohs. To Egypt.