Russian Hospitality

Had I thought I could stay on a Russian camp ground unseen, I was dreaming.
I was hardly there for 10 mins I was already involved in an argument about Rexelby on the beach (on leash he was) with children.
This lady has immediately been identified by onlookers as hysteric and myself as tourist.
From here on all my plans for an early evening were gone: I wanted to do some snoozing and cooking, both of which I achieved, however the cleaning, home improvement and reorganization plans went up in smoke.
The Russian hospitality is well known: saying no is not really an option. So I had to more or less eat and drink myself through the camp, slowly getting closer and closer to my van and to drunkenness, taking presents with me: a bag of freshly harvested homegrown potatoes here, a huge cabbage and other vegetables there. Fresher they don’t come.
Finally I reached home looking forward to my bed, when my Armenian neighbours, who had previously supplied me with a grilled pork chop and a drumstick, (very welcome, as I was sooo hungry) invited me over for more food and drink and some dance. When they told me they are celebrating the first child of the youngest member of the circle, I could not say no, the dancing was of course another incentive.
In-between all of this, Rexelby and myself had to investigate the wolfish howling of many dogs coming down the hill. Rex could not resist and found his wolf voice, and yodelled together with the other huskies. These were howling on and off throughout the night, but Rexby thankfully resisted his urge to tune in with the “real” Huskies. As we found out this was a Husky farm, about 30 or more dogs, all different husky varieties, Alaskan, Siberian, Mallamute, mixed with wolf, from puppies to old ones. This was their summer camp; they were waiting for the winter to come so they could do some sled work in Kamtchatka. This is at least what I understood.Read more