For the last week, I've been getting a completely different taste of today's Russia on a long road trip. First, let me say a thing or two about the conduits of our journey: the major highway connecting Moscow with St. Petersburg is essentially a two-lane road with periodic passing lanes. Add to this the fact that the majority of the vehicles on the road are commercial trucks and you begin to understand both the slow-going frustration and the white-knuckle moments of near collisions that a road like this routinely produces. Get off the main highway and into the tiny villages filled with crumbling (but gorgeous) old wooden houses and the roads become a mass of muddy potholes. It's a good thing Katya drives a Honda SUV because it felt like we were off-roading even while driving through towns. This is a sharp distinction from the beautiful, wide - albeit choked with traffic - road system of Moscow. There is a popular proverb that Russia has two main problems today - its roads and its fools, and I can certainly vouch for the first of these.
The first stop on our trek north was the tiny village of Lohovo, about four hours northwest of the capital in a region dense with thick, primeval forests and freckled with a network of lakes. Once my stomach and I got used to the roads and I could sit back and soak in the journey, the quietude and beauty of the place was really overwhelming. Villages are entirely agricultural, with a row or two of old and highly-decorated wooden houses overlooking garden plots. And of course, it seemed like each village, regardless of size, had its own soaring Orthodox church, complete with onion domes and spires. The woods that encircle these tiny rural communities are a mixture of firs and aspen unlike any sort of forest I've explored before.
Katya's family owes a very large plot of land just outside one of these villages that overlooks the headwaters of the Volga. To get there, you must take a bad road off the main "highway" to a small town, then travel another 20 slow kilos on a dirt road. The village itself consists of about ten houses and gardens with no stores or services of any kind (although there is a bus stop that takes villagers on the long journey into town), and the family has a few small but very modern log cabins overlooking the humble infant waters of Europe's biggest river. At night, the silence is absolute and the darkness impenetrable.
The weather had been really unpredictable since I arrived - the first few days were a comfortable and clear 70 degrees, only to be followed by gray skies, rain, and 40 degrees. But on the first morning in Lohovo, we awoke to a dazzlingly beautiful day. We started off the morning by canoing down to the village to walk around and chat with the locals (more on this later); we then jumped back into the canoe and paddled up to a sprawling and totally isolated network of lakes, peat bogs, and old-growth forests.
After getting back from our watery adventure, we enjoyed a big Russian meal. Russian cuisine is delicious, if not the lightest and most health-conscious fare. During my stay in Lohovo, I tried many new and interesting foods and drinks, including salo (pork lard) on toast; aspen juice (just bore a small hole in a tree and you get a tangy juice that is supposedly very good for you and has a lively fizz); kvas (a Russian "soft-drink" made from bread); and plenty of raw milk and yogurt, right from the cow. It's amazing how full of chemicals foods are in the states - I don't think I'd ever tasted raw milk before, and it is completely different from the stuff you buy in supermarkets. Much gamier, like the animal didn't quite leave the liquid. It's a totally unique flavor. As for the other stuff: despite the initial gag reflex, I found myself to be quite a big fan of the pork lard. (Amazingly, there are far fewer overweight people in Russia than the states, in spite of the rich diet. Maybe that salo comes in handy during the harsh winters...)
Katya's father Alexander ("Sasha") is a successful businessman by day and a fanatical blues fan and fisherman in his off-time. My second evening out at the cabin, he took me out to introduce me to the art of fishing on the Volga. After casting, we settled back for what I've always assumed is the main draw of fishing: beer (and kvas) and conversation. But an hour or so in, I felt a slight snag on my line and Sasha rushed over to help me reel in my very first fish (a bream). Katya's bubbly and vivacious mother Olga fried it up that evening and we all sat around the cabin drinking beer, eating fresh fish, and telling stories. A very good day indeed.
(Much more to come...)
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