We spent our Saturday afternoon and evening at a dacha. For those of you who aren't familiar, a dacha is like a second home located outside of the city, where a family stays in the summer or even on the weekends. It took us a long time to get there, primarily because none of us knew where we were going, and our only guide were the directions Maureen's host mom had written for her, scrawled onto a small page of scrap paper. We were able to read what metro station we were supposed to go to, but, once we got there, we sat on a bench and took turns typing one inscrutable word into an online translation service on Maureen's phone. This went on for about ten minutes until one of us finally guessed the right letters in the correct order, and then we all heaved a collective sigh of relief because we finally realized the word was the name of another metro station. After our next stop, we had to transfer to a suburban train. This was also confusing. I don't remember how we figured that one out. I think we wandered around for a little bit until we saw a sign, and then we fumbled through purchasing tickets, and somehow managed to go to the right platform? Obviously, I wasn't super helpful through the navigation process. I often stand by a policy of "fake it till you make it", which translates to me appearing to know exactly where I'm going, even when I don't. I usually have no idea. This has proved to be troubling, as people follow me because I look like I know what's going on, but, nine times out of ten, I actually know nothing and am only pretending. It's hard to say how I still have friends at this point. Anyways, when we stepped off the train, the air smelled so fresh and there were trees and grass and so much open space. It was refreshing. Genevieve's host mom, and her host mom's daughter and husband, were waiting for us at the end of the platform. After introductions, they whisked us away to the liqour store, a tiny building on the street corner adjacent to the station. They asked us what kind of beer we liked, and, when everyone responded with silence, I tried to convey that I don't usually drink beer so I didn't have an opinion on what kind of beer we purchased. They just kind of smiled at me and handed me a bottle of beer, and we all nodded at eachother, and that was that. A few minutes later, our little crew was walking down a sunny dirt road with beers in our hands and lightness in our hearts. Actually, I really had to go to the bathroom at this point so my heart wasn't really that light, but I still appreciated the moment.
They gave us a tour of the dacha, which consisted of two buildings - one being mainly a kitchen and outside porch/dining area, and the other larger and filled with bedrooms, a bathroom, another kitchen, etc. Then, we sat and ate on the porch. Some more family members arrived shortly afterwards, heaving three huge baskets of mushrooms. I cannot emphasize enough how many mushrooms there were. I have never seen so many mushrooms in one place before. I know that mushroom hunting is a big thing in Russia and pretty much everyone is obsessed with mushrooms in a way that I cannot fully comprehend.. but.. there were just so so so many mushrooms. The next hour or so was spent organizing and cutting the mushrooms; I assume in preparation to eventually cook them. I don't know where they will store all those mushrooms in the meantime. In my entire life, I have probably eaten 1/100000th the amount of mushrooms in those baskets. I also still don't understand how no one accidentally poisons themselves by eating a poisonous mushroom. Does this happen? Are mushrooms worth the risk? These are the questions I have.
Patrick finished his beer way before anyone else, and was immediately asked if he wanted a second one. He said no, but different people continued to ask him until Polina's husband set a second beer down in front of Patrick with such an air of finality that I couldn't help but laugh. Then he waved at Patrick and said, "see you later!", indicating that, if Patrick were to continue drinking at this pace, he would most likely no longer be a present member of our company. At this, we all started laughing. (Patrick was absolutely fine, just in case anyone was concerned.) Then someone said something about potatoes, and that was also hilarious. We laughed and laughed. I often didn't understand exactly what we were laughing about, but I kept laughing anyways.