Rock Climbing in Дерново, a trip of firsts and agains

As we approached the small cluster of one-story brick houses, the first sight that caught my eye was a man in a Russian military striped shirt riding his pony. When we stopped at the only shop in town, I had to wait for a family of geese to cross the street in front of me...ну мы приехали в Русскую деревню. The shop woman was so friendly (something one should never expect here. It's not that they're all jerks, they just have a different approach to meeting people), and pointed the way to the cliffs. As we left, the man on his pony rode up, and tethered it to the handrail. The pony, unlike the shopkeeper, was truly Russian, and showed it's nationality by headbutting me.

After finding the cliffs and setting up camp, it was a matter of seconds before I was on the wall...making a fool of myself in front of a bunch of in-shape climbers after a long, long separation from this hobby. I have fallen very far in my climbing ability after about 7 months of not climbing...very far.

This was my first camping trip in Russia, and I was not disappointed. We had classic Russian food...sausage and canned meat on noodles with the options of ketchup or mayonnaise to spice it up. While that may sound disgusting to many of you, it tasted so appropriate on my first camping experience here. We camped under the cliffs in a field near the river that was covered in real grass, the kind you only get on golfing greens; the kind that you can run barefoot on...a rare commodity in Russia. The trip was a regeneration experience for me. On the drive to the town, someone asked me if I saw romance in the fields of Russia, and at the time I answered with a confused 'no.' However, on the way back, after having found a part of myself that I missed, I saw something like what he was talking about. It wasn't so much romance with a person as much as a strange attraction to a country that has sometimes strange quirks, but overall has grown on me.