When I was three years old, I declared that I adore driving “no matter where and no matter what.” My father immediately clarified whether I would agree to ride an old donkey into a swamp with mosquitoes, but I did not succumb to such demagogic provocations and did not continue the conversation. Because the love of travel is an innate phenomenon.
The desire to change places is expressed in different ways by different people. My friends include cycling and kayaking enthusiasts, bikers, and hitchhikers. But “difficult tent happiness” is not for me. As well as the desire to settle in a five-star hotel at all costs: I often had to move around the country and abroad for work, so I saw enough hotels. Sometimes these were standard four-star hotels, and sometimes apartments of unrealistic size and pathos. In such complexly organized spaces, I was always very afraid of losing my mobile phone – then look for it on the colorful marble window sills, numerous countertops or patterned carpets. It’s not for me. I think when traveling, everyone strives to get what they lack. An inhabitant of an unsettled apartment is more likely to want to “live like a human being.” Someone is under the illusion that they are buying not just a room, but also guaranteed protection from local germs and other troubles. In any case, the hotel assumes a certain detachment from the country or region where you find yourself. This is normal on a business trip. And if the trip is made in order to “observe morals” and gain impressions, then it is best to settle in the middle of real life, renting a house or apartment. Of course, there are all kinds of apartments for rent too. Some of them were purposefully bought and decorated for rent – a kind of indifferent apartments, differing from the hotel only in the presence of a kitchenette and the absence of a maid. There is also real housing, of course, prepared for the reception of outsiders, but still retaining the “face” and allowing you to calculate the nature of the owners.
We got our first experiences of this kind in Finland when we rented summer cottages in the summer. In one old–fashioned house with vintage furniture, 17 soup bowls and 9 bayans were found in various cupboards and cupboards! The bayans somehow didn’t touch the soul, but the soup bowls impressed. We even started to abstractly come up with something like a “soup party”: 17 types of soups with 17 types of bread. Borscht, fresh and sour cabbage soup, mushroom, pea, pickle, solyanka, sorrel, okroshka, chicken noodles… Then the list began to expand due to culinary geography: kharcho, onion soup, vichy, bouillabaisse, minestrone, gazpacho, lagman. Borodino bread, rye, pumpkin, lavash, ciabatta, baguette… The idea remained unfulfilled, but turned into a family game “name seventeen favorite soups.”
In Rome, we once settled literally “in the back” of the Vatican: from our terrace we could see the backs of the sculptures located on the cornice of St. Peter’s Cathedral. Under the walls of the house flowed Via Aurelia, one of the oldest streets of the eternal city, paved with basalt slabs. Once upon a time, pilgrims’ sandals slapped on them and kaligi (“half-boots” of legionnaires) stamped on them. We shared the terrace with friendly neighbors and did not interfere with each other, because we were separated by a hedge of orange trees in tubs, climbing roses and thick grapes. The apartment itself was small, but very thoughtful and beautiful. However, if there is such a terrace, then you almost don’t need an apartment.
When choosing a place to live, we always try to follow three rules. We move closer to the center – it saves time, closer to the market – it expands the menu and prefer apartments with a balcony – it’s romantic. It’s good to exercise on the balcony in the morning, and meditate in the evening after a day full of running. If there is also a beautiful view from there, then the trip was a success! In Armenia, in the town of Dilijan, the scenery from the balcony was breathtaking at any time of the day and in any weather. Mountains, clouds, roofs, gardens, cats… the house stood in the middle of the slope, we occupied the top floor in it, so the daily load was guaranteed. But the higher you climb in terms of housing, the more chances you have for a spectacular panorama. In Montmartre, for example, apartments are also available for rent, and with pleasant balconies facing the right direction. We were celebrating my husband’s anniversary at one of them, and Paris was winking at us with playful lights from below. Believe me, it was more beautiful than any kind of restaurant!
But there may be balconies in hotels, but there is usually no minimally equipped private kitchen. And this is one of the important reasons for the dislike of hotel life. Perhaps the trigger was a “non-childish” mental injury received in Sicily, in the city of Catania, where we once showed up at the very beginning of spring. The nature and weather were amazing, but the food turned out to be very bad: all the restaurants were still closed, out of season. At the same time, the market was bursting with the freshest seafood, vegetables and homemade pasta. But you can’t cook this in a hotel room, and a raw food diet is not our profile. When hunger and despair became almost unbearable, an angel appeared. In this case, he took on the appearance of a slightly toothless grandfather in a shabby blue sweater. At the Piazza Palestro, our handsome man set up a portable roaster and baked artichokes. Those prickly cones, blackened over the coals, looked intimidating, but we were ready for anything. However, grandpa quickly realized who he was dealing with and beckoned us to his antique Fiat, in the cabin of which there were giant pies on oiled kraft paper. Or not pies: it was difficult to determine the genre of this culinary masterpiece. But definitely not pizza or focaccia. Meaty dried tomatoes, green bean pods, black olives, scarlet pepper pods and something else fragrant and appetizing were basking on a soft porous dough soaked in olive oil. On top is the thinnest ruddy crust. I wanted to buy half of the work, but my husband resolutely demanded the whole thing. We drove away from Catania in the direction of Syracuse and literally ate almost half of the pie on the side of the road. We saved the rest for tomorrow. On the third day, we were nibbling on the crusts, and they were still incredibly delicious. I couldn’t repeat the dish at home, even though I tried repeatedly. I think Grandpa’s wife baked our salvation from leftover homemade ciabatta dough and random improvised ingredients. Since then, I’ve eaten a lot of things in cafes and restaurants, but just in case, I choose temporary shelters with a kitchen.
Another fascinating habit is to understand at least a little the language of the country where you are going. So far, Georgian has turned out to be the most difficult language: I’ve been tormented by the alphabet. There are more sounds and letters than we are used to. For example, three different “k’s”. And their shape is very specific. As my son said, these are not letters, but solid clouds, hearts and asses (it sounds rude, but it looks like the truth). Nevertheless, in a month I learned to read somehow, and in Kutaisi I was even able to decipher the inscription on the monument to some long-legged teenager: “Vladimir Mayakovsky.” It turns out that he studied at a local gymnasium! And at the market, I made a splash by turning to the bagel seller: “Dilam shvidobisa, kolbatono, miranda.” The saleswoman froze, and passersby cheered. As a result, I received not only bagels, but also a gift bun with poppy seeds. A Georgian friend revealed the secret: it turns out that I said everything correctly, but too ornately, like on stage. Like she curtsied and disappeared: “Esteemed Madam, would you be so kind as to grant my request by selling two bagels?”
In Istanbul, the most useful phrase was the one that instantly drives away obsessive sellers with their eternal origin “Where are you from?” It turns out that in response you need to shout: “Nerelise niz?” (“Where are you from?”) It works great! And the most important word you need to know in any language is “where?”. Then you can give the address, the object, the name, and thank you later. Of course, if you don’t forget how “thank you” sounds.