Ostashkov. The charm of the Clueless Outback.
Seliger is usually associated with tent-guitar fishing or a party of politicized undergrowths, but as it turned out, this place is ideal for a short escape from Moscow.
Quite comfortable road. In Rzhev, be sure to visit an antique shop, next to which a black FV Zhuk of the early 70s is parked. Contains his absolutely operetta Natsik. He will try to sell you all kinds of fascist junk, but besides that, his store has enough interesting and valuable things. Moreover, for everything that is not connected with the Wehrmacht, he gives a good discount, not considering it a worthy product.
There are plenty of guest houses around Seliger, but I recommend settling in the capital of the region - Ostashkov. I do not advise you to settle in the hotel Edem (or Paradise, something like that) on the main street. Expensive, pontovo and constant noise from the billiard room. I recommend the hotel Orlovskaya 1 (this is the address) Reasonable prices. View of the lake, sauna, rental of boats, water bikes, boats (with a skipper). On a boat, you must definitely float to the Nilova Pustyn. It doesn't matter if you are a believer or not. The place is amazing. Among forests and lakes stands a powerful, dazzlingly beautiful, imperial citadel. I won't tell, you have to see it. But this building would completely adorn St. Petersburg and Moscow. (When visiting, do not forget that this is a monastery. Men in shorts have to wear official men's skirts, and girls in shorts and a T-shirt - a skirt, a scarf on their shoulders, a scarf on their heads.
The city has plenty of restaurants for all tastes. Taxi to any end 50 rub. Be sure to ask the taxi driver how badly Ostashkov was destroyed during the war. He will tell you that the city during the war was not subjected to shelling and bombing because it was baptized in it! GRANDMOTHER ! HITLER!!! ! To the timid objections that the old woman was most likely a Catholic, and it is unlikely that the ghoul loved his grandmother so much, the taxi driver will answer that maskvachi are always like that. I heard this crazy hypothesis more than once in the city, and not only from taxi drivers and sellers in the market, but also from an employee of the local history museum. By the way, you should definitely go to the museum. It differs little from thousands of the same throughout Russia, but it has its own pearls. At the entrance to the hall dedicated to the Second World War, you are greeted by a reduced copy of the flagship battleship Kriegsmarine Bismarck. What for? Why? Unclear. Further, I advise you to pay attention to the creation of a local seventy-nine-year-old sculptor called "The Last Grenade". The composition represents the figures of two girls in full growth. One of them stands with his back to you, and the second, squeezing this same grenade, faces. The pea jacket is open on it, under it is a tight-fitting sweater and girlish nipples fashioned by an aging master stick out from under the sweater. Judging by the anatomical accuracy, the maestro put all his talent into them. Naturally, all the scumbags visiting the museum pat cool sisge and, as a result, the girl’s chest stands out against the white background of the sculpture with unexpected blackness, which introduces some dissonance into the author’s tragic intention.
More from the local color: One day, when we went down to the hotel for breakfast, it turned out that the door to the restaurant was locked and the porter with a grave face told us that there would be no breakfast. After questions and promises that we would not be offended, we were told that there would be no breakfast because the chef had gone on a binge....Or in one of the city restaurants, my friends and I studied the menu pages for a long time and with relish where various beers were presented. No less than 50 varieties. But when we decided the waitress told us that there was NO BEER. We asked what beer is missing. The answer is none. At our timid suggestion to send one of us to the store for beer, she snapped that it was not supposed to be like that. As a result, we drank beer smuggled from the stall hiding bottles in bags. In another (the most expensive in the city) restaurant, in response to a request to bring us some local fish, the waitress simply admitted that all the fish on the menu was imported. (It didn’t even occur to her to lie for stupid tourists) And then the light went out for 40 minutes and candles were brought.
All these absurdities do not in the least interfere with the positive that you get from this city. Rather, they add to it that charm of absurdity, which we are deprived of in the usual predictable resorts.
The advantages of Ostashkov are beautiful beaches and the presence of a small national park where car traffic is prohibited. The hotel has a wonderful sauna with a dive into the lake. (For lovers of kakraoke - only chanson is in the repertoire in the rest room. Take CDs with you). Excellent hotel rooms (at the level of strong French 3 *) The opportunity to buy all kinds of fish on the market and the hotel chef will cook them for you for a penny. (if not drunk) I can't describe everything here, but believe me - this place is worth a visit. Try it.
