Landing, four hours of flight, beneath we seemed sharp, snow-covered mountains of the archipelago, and inside everything was finely thinned from delight. Here it is, my Arctic life. Began!
People walked slowly on an empty airport. The issuance of baggage, as in all small towns, was very delayed, there was nothing to do. The crowd clearly could be divided into groups: in the corner in large red and green jackets are scholars, these miners returned from vacation and now happily welcome those who are going on vacation only. In the packages of Duty Frei, the bottles are prior to the packages: the limit is installed in the village – a month is not more liter of vodka and no more than two kilograms of sugar per person. All this can only be bought on special coupons, which are issued to everyone in place. We finally raised our inbox suitcases from the tape and stood in thought when a high young woman came up to us. It was the director of the school.
. Morning silence was ice. Because of the next accident at the CHP, the heat was poorly served in the house. A little warm water flowed from the crane, the mixer in the bathroom, mournfully rushing the day before, and refused to work at all. In the evening, we even went to the down jackets. But it seemed to us with such trifles, because everything around looked terribly interesting, new, and we did not interfere as soon as possible to start living here.
Sasha finally woke up, and we, trembling from the cold, sat down to drink tea. Past our window proudly, as far as his complete clumsy figure allowed, was a deer. Behind him one more and yet. Now, without horns, they resembled thick hairy cows with small, forever surprised eyes. Amazingly as soon as they manage to extract themselves meager food from under the huge strata of snow and at the same time stay so reused!
… The school was quiet, only the cook in the kitchen already thundered with his saucepans. I opened the door of kindergarten and the proud eagle eyes won my possessions.
So, I became the mistress of a small dressing room with children’s lockers, a large game room with flowers and aquarium, a small utility room, a children’s bathroom and a bedroom. In the same place, in the closet, there was a huge selection of methodical literature. I rushed there and removed a small book called "Develop children. 2-4 years. I open and start reading: "If you are noticing a sadness, cheer the baby. For this. "No, it is not good.
Past our window proudly, as far as his complete clumsy figure allowed, was a deer
. Nevotfully approached Easter. Sasha and I went to the village chapel. There are no baws here; Only sometimes, once every two or three months he comes here, and then believers go to him to confess, coming up and listen to the sermon. In Moscow, I read in the Internet publishing of a local newspaper Interview with the father, in which he said that, getting into the village, people observe themselves to a certain type of loneliness. You know, it would seem, there would be no very many people around, but everyone knows each other, no one will be hidden from anyone, you will not leave, and the moment comes when you understand – everything, the boiling point, you need to stay alone, and then go to thoughts in yourself and look at yourself very different eyes. Often exactly at such moments of loneliness people find God.
In Tu Easter, the father in the village was not. Despite this, the light was always burning in the chapel, and on Sundays someone called the bell. It was Ekaykin, the local older and a man of amazing fate, but we didn’t know him at that time. We entered the wooden, seeding from time to time. He could be both 20 and 200 years: a tree in the north remains very well. Inside the chapel was closely – it would hardly fit five people. We lit one of the candles lying in the same place, on a small table near the wall. The smell of burning matches and melting wax felt in the air, and this smell immediately took me to a distant childhood. In the 1990s, we often turned off the light, and then we moved the whole family around the apartment with candles. It was so beautiful: Darkness, full silence, weak crackling of the candle and this smell of childhood.
The sun no longer came, sunsets and sunsets stopped. Once in the morning I left the house and heard the singing of birds. So suddenly, so in the mortar it sounded here in the kingdom of snow and ice. Right out of my feet, two birds were spinning with a sparrow size. These were the famous singing bunches of the Arctic, the eternal heroes of the tales of the northern peoples of the world. It was possible to close the eyes and in absolute silence to hear low singeling trills. They say that more birds will arrive here. They will nest on the rocks, to blame the nests and put off the eggs, and then, in the fall, they will flee further. But in the fall I will leave and I, and this is still very soon, because in the yard April, the real winter.
With the arrival of spring, the Arctic came to life: the tundra moved, hesitating from under the snow, the sky was filled with shouts of flying geese, they were injected on the waves of ducks. While walking on the beach from under the legs, it’s somehow escaped the horses – small chubby birds with long thin legs. Running, they looked up of "knees" almost to the beak and for some reason they never took off. Sometimes in the snow it was possible to notice a thick white bird with a red stain on the head – these are partridges, bird champions on the run. They have very chubby shaggy legs, but at the sight of an uninvited guest, they ask such a stringy that only the diva is given. When the partridges understand that they will not be run away, then they take off, heavily swinging the wings, and then, hinting a little in the air, cargo, almost with a sigh of relief, fall on the ground.
There is no maternity hospital and cemetery, came, lived, went on
Separate trouble of the Arctic – Colt. These cupping birds fly from the Arctic to the Antarctic and back. Nests they lay right in the tundra along the road and show insane aggression to passing by. With unpleasant sounds, the colt is picked right on the head to everyone who happens to be near their nests. Soothes one thing: Having failed in the Arctic, they will fly to the Antarctic, where local polar explorers will be injured.
There is here, however, one trick: attack the crags (just like the burgomistra) is always the highest point, so it is necessary to walk with those who are above you (in my case it is easy), or wearing a stick and raise it over your head.
Flight Day (this is the way, with a capital letter each word) – this is a big event. Once every two months, a plane ordered by Moscow arrives in the village. It flies mainly with those who arrive in the village, and fly away on the same day with those who go to the mainland. For the few population of the village is a grand update: the only street fill out just that came Rudnikov who are immediately noticeable in surprised eyes and incessantly turning heads.
"New" they are considered exactly until the next charter. So we finally signed up on this day in "Local".
The day of the flight is a day of joyful meetings, because vacationers come, wives come to the miners with children. No, no, yes, and we will break the last romance in their crowd, dreaming to touch the Arctic. And every time someone leaves forever, so it is also the day of bitter separation. The village assumes only a watch life, that is, a temporary, non-permanent.
There is no maternity hospital and cemetery, came, lived, went on.
Sometimes, leaving forever, people return and remain in the village for a long-to-year years, although it happens not so often. But what is amazing, in this instability and impermanence there is amazing static and routine.
There are three types of transport in the village: cars (all seasons), but they are very small and immediately understandable who rides; Snowmobiles (when there is snow) – convenient and can be ride everywhere; Quad bikes (when there is no snow): Convenient, but, in my opinion, it is impractical, you can only go on the road, and they are exclusively in the village. On the tundra ride on quad bikes is prohibited, because it is so applied damage to the fragile Arctic nature, which will not restore it for a very long time.
. Tourists – Cute People. Come to the village for several days, they are taken by glaciers and fjords, they leave with the eyes of delight, and then remember these few days all their lives. When you’re in the village village, not a tourist, then you perceive everything completely different. Chance to see the glaciers you are negligible: it all depends only on your luck. I certainly complain sin.
Just staying in one place for a long time, you can see how birds arrive, they bring offspring and teach them to swim. As under them, stealing and rotating, swine waters of fjord float.
As the sun in the evening paints the sky in Purpur, and then a few months hang in the sky and shines around the clock. As one morning, the foot of the mountains discount with themselves all the snow and stand black, absolutely naked; As one day, Tundra begins to smell not a dream of Gom, and the earth and adventures, as she starts to bloom, and then, in one short evening, it becomes wet and begins to smell in the fall; Only so you can learn to recognize the whole great range of snow colors: from white to gold, pink and purple. Only here, at the top of the planet, the sky is so low that it can be touched by hand.
Excerpts from the book Alina Kuznetsova "Full Sun", issued by the publishing house Delibri with the assistance of the project office of the development of the Arctic. Alina Kuznetsova 24 years old, she was born in Moscow, but from 15 years old her life is associated with the Russian Polarm. With her eyes, we will see how the Ice Desert will turn into one of the most beautiful places on the planet, as a cold Polar Island will become almost native.