(Wo)Man in Nature

But first, a bit of background:

The dacha is a cultural tradition that has been around ever since the Soviet Era, if not before. Basically a summer home, the dacha is a place that Russians go in order to feel more connected to nature. During the Soviet Era, each family was given a plot of land out in the countryside, in order to build whatever they want for their dacha. The dacha is so culturally important that not only is the dacha its own special place, but being at the dacha is its own specific action. If a family does not own a dacha, they will even rent dachas for the summer.

Episode One: The Lake

We left for the dacha at around 10 this morning, making a pit stop at the grocery store for our food for the day. The dacha, as our host told me, was around two hours' drive away; and thus, we headed off into the forest, driving past massive amounts of fall foliage.

Before we actually went to the dacha, our host offered to take us to see the lake, so that we could take pictures and see where they would often go to swim (with enough time and alcohol, as our host explained). We parked off to the side, then walked through a beautiful walkway, where I got to snap my first pictures of the Russian fall.

The colors were absolutely beautiful; the lake, even more so.

 There was a little path winding around the lake, too, that led to the most sketchy bridges I have ever seen. The path was really mossy and muddy, and, being the forgetful city-slicker that I am, I was wearing the entirely wrong kind of shoes.

Note the sketchiness of this bridge.

Dacha Tip #1: Wear shoes that you don't care about, and/or that can take mud, water, and a beating. Otherwise, your feet will end up feeling cold, wet and slightly squishy.

Episode Two: The Dacha (An Outdoors Tour)

 When we finally arrived at the dacha, it was beautiful in a homely sort of way. The front was filled with raspberry bushes and apple trees; my host family had apparently decided to turn the dacha into its own sort of mini-orchard, which is where the never-ending supply of apples that I've been consuming and the massive amounts of raspberry jam came from.

To the side, between apple trees, my host father had built a little fire pit where we would later be cooking our dinner. (Unfortunately, it was raining, which made dinner a little bit complicated; but that shall be explained later.)

One turn more, and then there was the banya, another entirely Russian experience that I will explain in full detail-- in a bit. (It wouldn't do to start a story without setting the scene, now would it?)

(The small structure off to the side and in the back of the picture is actually a cabin filled with firewood-- some of it less safe than others. There were quite a few pieces of timber wood that we were given that had such user-friendly elements as giant rusty nails.)

After wandering around outside in my pitifully unsuitable clothing, I followed the group inside, where I learned yet another valuable dacha lesson and a cultural tidbit.

Dacha Tip #2: Do not go to the dacha without socks, especially if you do not have tapochki (which will be explained in the next section). It will be cold, wet, and even more unpleasant than having your feet in cold, squishy shoes.

Episode Three: The Inside of the Dacha

When we finally went into the dacha, there was an almost fairytale-like quality; one of the girls in our group even described the little house as somewhere she could imagine Snow White and the Seven Dwarves living. 

Through the front door was the dining room, which was directly across from the kitchen.

Window view of the dining room

Bookshelf just outside of the front door (yes, those are stuffed birds)

The kitchen

Past the dining room and kitchen was a smaller room (what its official purpose was, I'm still not entirely sure). It was a lounging room, I suppose, with a piano and a small stove.

Upstairs, there's this strange sort of attic thing, though in its own weird way, it's pretty cool. There's a room filled with beds, plus the areas that I took pictures of.

Don't ask me about the monkey; I don't know, either.

After a trip outside and back, and having thoroughly soaked my flats, I was introduced to yet another Russian cultural joke: dacha fashion.

Cultural Experience: Dacha Fashion

Dacha fashion is what Russians jokingly call their dress whenever they are at the dacha. This is because when Russians are at the dacha, and there is no one to see them, they will wear the most unflattering, outdated, and frumpy clothes around, simply because they need the layers to keep warm and comfortable. Take, for example, the hat that was lent to me during my stay at the dacha, which I jokingly call my rainbow gangster hat.

I wore this knitted hat with a massively over-sized camouflage jacket, plus a pair of white tennis shoes that were just a size or two too large. This incredibly fashionable outfit (not) qualifies as a perfect example of dacha fashion. Additionally, my host was wearing a sweater or two, a vest, and two jackets, plus two pairs of pants and two pairs of socks. This also qualifies as dacha fashion. 

Anyways, back to the story.

Episode Three: Life at the Dacha

Because the Russian dacha experience is about nature, we got to experience three very interesting trials: building the fire, doing housework, and preparing the banya. All of them made me (temporarily) increase my appreciation of modern conveniences, such as running water, electricity, and living in the city (where all our food is close).

Experience One: Facing the Fire

For those who were not in Boy Scouts or rarely went camping, it's very hard to build a fire while it's raining, even if you came prepared with charcoal and lighter fluid. Even when we dumped the entire bottle of lighter fluid on the fire, and watched the flames soar up to two or three feet high, the water would quickly dampen the flames until it was back to barely inches.

And seeing as part of the dacha experience is not having running gas or electricity, we could not afford to have this fire remain unlit: most of what we brought to eat required cooking, such as the chicken we had prepared (marinated in mayonnaise, onion and soy sauce; oddly, it worked more than one would think); the mushrooms we had bought (which we were planning on sauteing in butter and garlic); the potatoes we had brought (which I had to handwash in a bowl of cold rain water-- that was not a pleasant experience); and other various things. True, we were able to make what I've been calling the "worker's snack" (the most popular food among Russian workers), which was a strangely delicious mix of shredded cheese, mayonnaise, and garlic, but seeing as it was a cold, wet day, we all knew we needed something more substantive than just bread and cheesy spread.

Thus it was that each of us took turns holding an umbrella over the fire while our host tried to breathe life into the fire, rolling up newspaper and taking firewood out of the little shed before dousing it with even more lighting fluid. Even then, it seemed as if the fire was not going to make it, requiring our host to fan it with a piece of sheet metal before the flames finally took hold.

Experience Two: When I Realized a Family Joke Was Not As Outrageous as I Originally Thought

In my family, because I am half-Russian, we will often joke that (as I am short and not particularly slender) I have good Russian hips, broad for baring Russian babies and close to the ground for picking potatoes. I had always thought of this as a hilarious if not entirely applicable joke until when my host asked me to pick the apples that had fallen off of the numerous apple trees at the dacha, and experience that I had never participated in during my adult life and which required me being low to the ground.

One does not appreciate just how low one's hips are to the ground until one needs to pick something up off the ground repeatedly, such as potatoes or, in this case, apples; and suddenly, I appreciated the fact that I was short, as it would have taken me seconds longer to reach the apples than it did with my condition of being vertically challenged.

Additionally, every time we wanted to use water, we would have to fetch it out of the rain buckets that were out for such a reason.

So, the banya, washing vegetables, washing dishes... All of it required taking water by hand from these buckets and then carrying it wherever we needed it to be. Not a particularly difficult or troublesome process, mind you, but a thought-provoking one. 

Episode Three: Russian Culture Time

 The banya is a Russian cultural tradition quite similar in concept to the sauna. Basically, you sit in a steaming-hot room for a while, and sweat before rinsing your body in cold water. Other practices include hitting yourself with sticks and slathering yourself with mud; but being amateurs, and doing this for the first time, we simply sat in the banya before gingerly splashing water on ourselves and leaving.

The banya, in all its simple glory

The banya was quite simple to prepare: bring in some wood, light a fire, and pour in water into the little compartment on the stove. What was difficult was mentally steeling myself for something I would normally not be caught dead doing in the US: being naked in front of other people.

See, traditionally, people would go into the banya naked. It was only in recent times that people have started wearing bathing suits into these bathing houses; and as we were doing everything super traditionally (and I don't think anyone brought bathing suits, seeing as how it was the beginning of autumn), we all stripped down into our birthday suits before heading into the sauna.

My overall experience? Not as awkward as I thought it would be. While the thought of being naked was terrifying, once I was actually in the banya, I got over it; it would have been much more uncomfortable, I think, with a bathing suit, considering how hot it was. Plus, the banya was fantastic for my skin; I could literally feel my pores opening up, which makes sense since we were all literally steaming ourselves. My least favorite part of the experience was the itty-bitty splash of cold water (being from LA, I'm a total wimp when it comes to anything remotely cold), followed by walking out into the changing room (where one of the girls had the door open, and cold air was rushing in).

Episode Four: Food, And Departure

While we were in the banya, our host was cooking our food over the fire. (Before entering the banya, we had prepared the mushrooms by placing a saucepan directly onto the fire, and once our host put the marinated chicken onto skewers, we placed the potatoes [which I had washed and one of my friends had wrapped] into the fire, placed the chicken skewers above the fire, and headed off to steam ourselves like vegetables.) By the time we got out, all of our food was almost ready, and we were able to settle down and drink tea.

Then, in a stroke of genius, our host decided to wrap some of the apples that I had collected in tin foil and place them at the bottom of the fire. Soon, we had ourselves baked apples. I added butter and a sprinkling of sugar to mine, and it was absolutely fantastic. Happily fed, I removed my dacha fashion (goodbye forever, gangster rainbow hat!), reluctantly returned to my inappropriate garb from before, and thusly, we left.

The Dacha: To Conclude

While I would not want to live at the dacha every day, I had tons of fun while I was out there. Everything was so beautiful, and the scenery was so different, that I couldn't help but appreciate nature and the Russian countryside. All told, if you happen to visit Russia and you're staying with a host family, I would definitely recommend asking if they have a dacha; it's an experience that you're never going to forget, and that will really help immerse you in Russian culture.

And as long as I'm being sappy, I might as well finish on a pretty flower I saw at the dacha.

Fin