Do you know what memories smell like? Do they have their own scent? My Sochi smells by no means of peaches and hot corn. It smells like churchkhela and Chechel cheese mixed with tart wine. Still salty sea. I don’t wash off the salt after the sea, I like the white, slightly noticeable mesh on the skin, I lean to my shoulder to inhale this smell and can’t help it, I touch the salty hand with my tongue. From the outside, it probably looks funny. The girl closes her eyes and kisses her shoulder. And I kiss the huge sea that has been preserved on my skin. I remember my first meeting with him. Publication https://dzen.ru/a/ZNOr7USkRnz0eenK in my blog on Zen WELCOME https://dzen.ru/shipshard Then I was traveling as a student on a train to Sochi for KiViN (Annual Music Festival of KVN teams). Already closer to 4 am we arrived. And from 2 a.m. it splashed in the dark. Black Sea. I stuck my nose to the glass and peered at the horizon. Outside the window, in the light of the moon, the waves breaking on the rocky shore turned white, everything else faded into darkness. The night itself is mysterious and magical, you expect some kind of accomplishment and a miracle, that here it is right next to you. At 4 am we arrived at the station. The intoxicating smell of happiness hit his nose, and a languid thrill of charm spread throughout his body. Behind me, along with a thousand kilometers and a snowy winter, I left the doubts and problems of that life, stepping into the warm spring, new exciting feelings captured me up to my ears, which at that moment did not find a better way out than to scream. In fact, we squealed all together, the entire student body, throwing out a fiery ball of emotions that overwhelmed us.
In the morning we went to the market, it was not far from the hotel and we had to sip the local color. And where to look for it if not in the market? We scored different cheeses, mostly chechel, braided, we didn’t have anything like that. Wine was taken in one and a half-liter bottles inexpensively. And churchkhela, like New Year's garlands, they hung and dazzled on the shelves. With this good we went down to the city beach. Did I say it was winter? Have you seen winter Sochi? And it was also a festival of KVN players, where there were more cheerful and resourceful gulls than talkative gulls on the sea. Wooooo. And we were picked up by the sunny city and pushed into its crazy energy of fun. We plunged into the crowd of guys who came to the festival and spun in this rhythm of life. We sat on the shore, putting our bare feet on warm pebbles, drinking wine straight from the bottle, because we forgot to buy glasses, chewing churchkhela and tearing cheese.
Our program was full. The trade union committee decided to fill our days with all sorts of excursions to waterfalls and local beauties, pampered us with freebies for performances, for which everyone actually came. Every day we meet, new trips and adventures. What is the Arboretum worth, we found a hole through the fence of the park and stowaway hares made our way to both the lower and upper Arboretum. Over time, I visited Sochi several times, but it was closed up, and there were no more adventures to climb over the fence. And then yes, waved! And don't be ashamed. But they caught exhibitionists there, these are those who jump out in raincoats, and here you are * wow! Such was our retribution for illegal entry into the park.
And there were mountains. Rainy. And some kind of observation tower on the city of this Sochi. Only the city is not visible, cloudy. But you can’t break us like that, we climbed straight into the clouds. Straight pieces can be torn as from cotton candy. I stretch out my hand into the white haze and wave it in desperation to tear the white fog from the sky. And he swims slowly over your head, I jump and inhale the cold, moist air. Wet hair, trickles of condensed water flow down our face, we all get wet down from the tower and I am met with the question: “Was it worth climbing there if you can’t see anything?” Stupid question.
In the mountains, rain dripped in small drops, rare flowers bowed their heads to wet stones. Seeing the tourists, some highlander ran up to us with a glass of wine, in fact he was selling his wine, and he brought it as a tasting. I drank the whole glass in one gulp, destined for everyone, the heat at once gushed into my chest and settled in my head like a dope. Such white fog as on that tower. Tasty? - he asked. And now everything is delicious for me, pour at least some chacha or, as the students joked, warm vodka from a soap dish. We take a few bottles of red grape juice for the evening and storm the falls.
Amazing memories and an author's story from Elena Popova, a member of the TopContent community.
Elena Popova https://vk.com/id5664033
https://vk.com/wall-204473890_4924
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