Siberia
“Oi, you. Stop!”
The face of a young man with a crew cut had popped out
of the window on the passenger seat side of a white Lada and
was calling out to me.
“You must be boiling. Here, have a drink of this.”
Igor (the man with the crew cut), Pasha and Denis were
offering me a drink of Danish beer. That evening (the sun
was still high), about 10 kilometres from Jurga, my
destination, a white Lada came towards me from the
opposite direction. Enter Igor and company again. “Hotels
are too expensive. Come to our house. You can eat with
us.” They had come all the way back just to invite me to
come with them. Their faces showed nothing other than
goodwill, so without a moment’s doubt or hesitation I
gratefully accepted the offer. Spasiva.
“The town’s just over there, so you can put your bike on
the roof of the car.”
“Net.”
“Why not? It’ll be all right.”
“I’ll cycle. I’m cycling the whole way,” I explained,
gesturing.
They ended up going ahead of me in the Lada all the way
into town. Igor cheered me on the whole 10 kilometres, a
drink of Pepsi in one hand.
(from "Against the Wind" - Poolbeg Press)
