A sacred, secret mission

The fly agaric or мухомор, beautiful and deadly.

As we set off on our journey to Kostroma Oblast in July, I was aware of many people getting on the bus carrying rolls of plastic bags, buckets, wearing wellies and camouflage. some were carrying fishing rods , so it was easy to guess what they were aiming to do. the bus stopped randomly along the road for a few miles out of the city, as the camouflaged army got off, they determindly headed of in one direction or another to their secret corners of the forests and rivers. Curious to an Englishman, that's for sure, I had this image of arguments, fights and worse, over a patch where the prize is among at least 15 edible mushrooms that an average Russian can identify.

Белые (porcini), подберезовики (birch bolete), подосиновики (red-capped bolete), маслята (slippery jack), лисички (chanterelle), рыжики (saffron milk cap), опята (honey mushroom), грузди (milk mushrooms), cыроежки (russule)

 So, I am looking forward to mushroom picking, I have had a little foray, hence the photos, all I could fine were the poisonous ones and a dead mole!  but I was too late, there had been mushroom pickers before us and they proudly held their basket for us to see as they walked past without a word of course!

The mole of Красное-на-Волге.

There's no f in eggs! My first poetry recital from my first Poetry collection

Kostroma Literary Festival, recital , Open mike appearance.

Never say never! Here I am on stage reciting from my first Poetry collection.

'There's no F in eggs!' 

This is only the second time in fact, that I have recited any of my poetry to the public. I don't get nervous, but on this occasion, yup, I was. 

However, I was received well and made a lot of new contacts and hopefully friends. I am on my way later today back to England to look at the publication details.

July just came and went!

July, A blink of an eye! Where did it go?

Well to start with my tour of Kostroma Oblast continued and I visited 'Bear Corner'.

I wrote a Children's book, completed my first collection of poetry.
I went through all of the necessary precedures to apply! for a work permit.
So I suppose it wasn't really a blink of an eye, rather a busy month.

And now?
Well I am preparing to visit home, which on its own is a seriously scary prospect and at the same time exciting.
I was thinking about what I have missed the most.
Well its clear that first and foremost it is my family.
My granddaughter has grown into a little girl in the last 7 months. My daughters! I miss them every single day, as I always have.
Lets move on before I reach for the Kleenex tissues.
My brothers and their families, My friends,

The Boro!

What else have I missed?  And what am I looking forward to?

 The Dorman's club, bingo! A pint of English beer.The craic with the lads! A walk on the beach, !
A game of darts, The Dudley!

Another walk on the beach, the sea, I miss the sea! Fish and chips, egg and chips, roast forerib of beef, Yorkshire puddings, but not mine, theyr'e shite! Meat!  I miss meat!  Sausages, good sausages.
Oh bloody hell its a lot isnt it!

But it isn't until you start thinking about it is it, that you realise what you miss. I miss Park Run, I miss the friendliness of the people in the North, the North East and in Yorkshire.

I have linked below to a video which I loved about a Northener in London.

A Northener terrifies Londoners by saying hello. Link here.

At the end of the day. Home is where the heart is. And a smile goes a long way!

Manturovo and the toilet police.

Manturovo and the toilet police. Strangely as it seemed later, we had stopped at this place on the way to Vokhma and I commented on the ridiculous fact that the toilet was locked in the station.
It rained and rained as we spent time with friends barbequeing in the rain, Shashlik.  A house full of children made the rain more bearable, fun with drawing. A real family visit to Babushka.
However the Russian love of forms, rules and regulations, meant that we had to wait for the next bus which was two hours later. We had tried to book our ticket the day before , but that is not possible in Russia. We were offered 1 seat and 1 standing in a mini bus on a 6 hour journey. I felt for the people on the way who had to sit on the floor or on their bags, but it seems to be accepted. so it goes, we were waiting at the Railway station for the bus, but of course if you are waiting for a bus, you can not use the toilet in the railway station without paying. Obvious is it not! Not knowing this and seeing the toilet key clearly labeled on the table I went for a pee, only to return to an armed policeman ranting about the rules, thank God I had help and although we asked to complain, it went on deaf ears!

The real Hinterland, Bear corner. Luptug.

Luptuk? Luptchook? Not sure how to spell it even. Now this is the Outback , the Hinterland, Bear Corner. Cousin Andrey is the local Gamekeeper, Bear, Elk, Wild Boar, to name but a few of the wild creatures in the massive forests of the area. Situated just to the north of the Wetluga river, the river where the Kostroma relic of the crocodile was found. It would not suprise me one iota if they still lived here, not at all. This land is wild, beautiful and somewhat eerie. 

Conversations about people doing deals for Elk meat in the forests in the 1990s, a time in Russia of change and of real poverty and problems. This story brought it all home to me, I may look upon a house with an outside toilet now as something from the dark ages, yet this is how people live, this is how it is. The people are welcoming and interested in you, if you show them the respect they deserve and not blank people out because of  P.C. bullshit.

The church in this tiny village [200 people] is probably the best rural church I have seen. A quick phone call meant that we could have access, The priest asked of I would like to make a confession, I politely declined , his English was suprisingly good and then I discovered that a group of American volunteers had been to the town fairly recently, I seem to be following a group of Americans in this area. More to be mentioned later when I have more information. The priest left me his card with his website. 

We were allowed to go up the tower, it was during a storm and the ascent was very scary, but we made our way up the tower. It was frightening, both the storm and the stairs up to the bell tower. There wouldn't be any possiblity in the UK that a member of the public would be allowed to climb this tower. Which made it all th emore exciting really.

 This town will long stay in my memory , we visited the town museum which is a house where a person lives alongside Soviet memorabilia, immaculately kept and cared for. It is not a place that many Westeners would find a lot to interest them, there is no MacDonalds, no fancy hotel, restaurant or for that matter Tourist office.
But this place is part of the real Kostroma Oblast, I have found part of the puzzle here. Part of the enigma, God only knows what it must be like to live here in the winter. Chatting to Andrey, I relaised that he only visits the city when required, a new gun, supplies, but otherwise , he is more than happy doing what he does as he has always done.

Bogovarovo

From the first time, I heard the name of this town and since I arrived in Russia, I have wanted to visit this town. If you look on the map it is in the far reaches of the Oblast and really into the last frontier!
 Like Vohkma, Bogorovo is a really important dairy area producing pretty decent cheese. I find most russian cheese 'ordinary' but I like the cheese from this area. I am spoilt of course by my experiences with French cheese!

The older of the two churches in Bogovarovo.

Like most country towns there is a cathedral or huge church. in this case the town has 2! With a population of less than 2,000 amd declining of course. To be fair one of the cathedrals is used for other activities and the working cathedral looks really smart.

The church and Chistianity in Russia has gone through very dark times and I am only beginning to see the legacy of the communist regime on the church.

Vokhma , the last post of civilisation

The title of this blog post is taken from an article I found about the Kostroma Oblast, A very interesting and yet sad article of the Kostroma region I am still searching and looking for, The disappearing villages and the declining amount of young talent leaving the area.

The link to the story is here. Rai or Paradise

I don't know the writer of this article or even if they really have visited this town or even Russia. What I do know is that we had a wonderful stay with family and the town and area is stunning,wild and for sure an outpost , but not a Hell town.

Perhaps the image here of a lone horseman could underline the statement , 'The last post of civilisation', but for me, it is what I was looking for. Not so long ago, horses would have been much more common to see in the area as working animals. this is a wild land, have no doubt! I somehow survived the bumpy 10 hour journey on a bus that somehow got us to our destination. The facilities for such a journey seemed to cater for smokers and not the general public with smoke breaks and very few toilet breaks. With  all of that shaking, I constantly wanted the loo!

The Vokhma museum was a complete jewel in the crown, it had these huge mammoth tusks,The curator gave us a guided tour and was delighted to have us as visitors, I loved her enthusiasm, even when describing simple artifacts, tools and utensils of a time gone by, not so long ago, in fact.

 A highlight of my visit to the Vokhma was a visit to the local apiary and the beekeeper. пчеловод
In the light of what our farmers in the west, including Britain are doing to the bees with pesticides and God knows what else. It was a delight to see an old fashioned set up with a lot of hives and the most beautiful honey you can imagine. however our trip was twofold. The main aim was to buy honey of course, but we then had another quest, Uncle Slava had a nagging back pain and he asked for a local cure. To which the Beekeeper gladly agreed and the next photo has Uncle Slava dropping his pants for a bee to sting the base of his spine. MMMMMM. not for me! He also got a sting on the eye for his pleasure!

 Photo has been removed! Thank God!
Considering Uncle Slava is a doctor, Something may be said for natural medicines?