Family memories with a touch of surrealism
I was going through old photos the other day and found plenty of fun ones. One story about our family trip was just begging to be told.
So, our older son was 5, the baby had just turned 4 months. Strolling with a stroller around the block? Boring. His parents had ants in their pants. So we packed up and drove off for the weekend to Russia’s Tver Region — fresh pine air, a lakeside resort on Seliger.
The trip turned out… unusual. For starters, Russia’s Chief TV Doctor was lecturing us from a giant screen during breakfast on the proper position for defecation. Very appetizing.
Then — a walk through the pine park. Nature, forest, lake. On the shore — a group of tough guys. From their luxury car? Not pop, not Russian chanson. No. Beethoven. Full blast. Surreal.
But the main twist was waiting ahead.
The Bathhouse on the Island
The TV in our guesthouse broke. A repair guy came, all businesslike, and casually asked:
“Want to go to a bathhouse on an island? Cheap.”
We love a good steam. But the kids? “Not a problem!” he said cheerfully. “There’s a big lounge. One kid sleeps, the other plays, you drink tea after your steam.”
Our imagination instantly painted the scene: a stylish log bathhouse with a tiled hall. On an island. Affordable. Of course, we want it!
We set a time, packed the kids, loaded into the guy’s boat, and sailed toward a tiny island. Illusions started to fade fast:
Instead of a cozy log bathhouse — ramshackle sheds, clearly built from leftover resort junk. Our host lived in his own reality. With the kids in tow, we decided to play along — no sudden moves.
No fear, though. None at all. Looking back now I think, what if…? But then — it felt like nothing more than a funny adventure.
The “complex” consisted of an outdoor lounge and a separate shack. Inside — light, spacious, a fireplace, a tea set, comfy chairs, even a bed with a fresh sheet. Just no tiled floor:
And the bathhouse itself — stove, panoramic window, carpets thrown on the benches:
My husband, deadpan: “And where’s the water?”
“Why, in the lake!” — answered the host, as if that’s the most natural thing in the world.
May. Ten degrees Celsius. Ice water. No thanks.
He left us for an hour, came back: “So, how was it?”
“Excellent!” we said, paid up, and hopped back in the boat.
On the way, he muttered indignantly: “It’s a great bathhouse! Brought a group of women yesterday — they refused to wash. Weirdos.”
“Yes, strange women,” we nodded, exchanging looks, barely holding back laughter. Back on shore, we hurried to our house. To rest after the bath. Well… after a walk around it.
The original Russian version of this article was published on February 5, 2021.
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