It was back in the late 80s, when the
Soviet Union was still strong (or at least it seemed so to me.. I was pretty young). Every few years my parents would go to south to
Caucasus,
Black Sea to be
specific.
They weren't rich or anything - my dad was a head surgeon of some department in one
of the Moscow's hospitals. My mom worked in the Lenin Library. We weren't well off. We were ok. We couldn't really afford plane tickets, so we took the train. For three or for days, I remember the track winding through
forrests and little cities. Waking up and falling asleep to a same
dook-dook dook-dook sound of the wheels. Gradually the temperature became noticably warmer. On the final day of the journey everyone seemed a bit more excited then usual. People were collecting outside the little rooms, watching out of the windows. Then, as we neared a turn around a mountain the wide expanse of the Black Sea appeared. I don't think I'll ever forget that moment. The sun was gleaming, the distant waves were crashing on the still distant shore. The air smelled different - of heated metal and wood, and the freshness of the water...the white specs of the
seagulls....
of course i grew used to it fairly soon