A woman is not a person, a woman is a tourist
Do you remember how it all started? Then, on July 28, when the group was given modules, campfires and other public duties. We began to get acquainted with the guys from the "Turklub KP", to make some first impressions about the people with whom in the future we had to go through so many events in a short time. They say that the first impression is the most correct, I think not everyone will agree with this, in the campaign, the views on many things and many have changed, for me, for sure, for a couple of people, for the rest - perhaps. The blue carriage runs and sways...In the train, fate scattered us and further acquaintances were made primarily by spatial proximity. Gradually, the ice in the relationship began to melt, the names of the companions began to be slowly imprinted in the memory. "Mafia" successfully brightened up the night hours, but trizzes and crocodile were not very successful and gathered a small audience.
(By the way, you need to add a good mood, riddles and knowledge of games and entertainment to the list of necessary things on a hike). A woman is not a man ...The girls and I realized this when we went to the ladies' room at the Simferopol railway station. Seeing the inscription “chilovichi toilet”, we, referring ourselves to people, nevertheless went there, and almost made a fatal mistake, according to local laws, we were supposed to visit the “zhinochi toilet”. They say that in almost all languages of the world a woman is not a person, and so it is in Ukraine. Beyond the blue mountains, beyond the white mist, The caravan will leave for caves and burrows. (c) tyreno We wanted to see the stars, the moon and the black night sky, but the first parking lot took place under a dense forest cover, from under which, to our credit, we nevertheless crawled out to observe astronomical miracles.
In general, there were enough miracles in the campaign: instructor Evgen demonstrated miracles of dexterity and flexibility, instructor Il showed miracles of predicting the exact time to the parking lot, participants - miracles of quick gathering in the morning. The next morning, the radial trip to Chatyrdag was not easy (due to a stormy night, or for other reasons). Stupid anecdotes came to my mind all the time, on Chatyrdag I remembered this one: Tourists are climbing uphill - a novice, badge officer, discharger and instructor. Novice: "I'm going to die right now. I'm going to die right now. " Badgeman: "When I get to that stone, I'll die. " Discharger: "I'll get to that stone right now, and if they don't die, then I'll die. " Instructor: "Well, I came across moose - at least someone died, or something. " Although our instructors were truly indefatigable, Il, who walked in front, did not show signs of fatigue at all, so "I'm going to die right now" referred mainly to us - beginners.
It was really hard, the thought that tomorrow we would have to overcome similar climbs with backpacks caused a treacherous tremor in my knees. The thought was carefully driven away by a simple formula: "Don't think about it, " which, by the way, was applied in various situations and in answering the following questions: "What are these worms in the water? ", " And how much more to the parking lot? ”, “ Don’t you think that it will rain soon? ", " In my opinion, we have lost someone. The last one is, of course, a joke. By the way, do you like jazz? In the Marble Cave, which we visited instead of the promised Emine-Bair-Khosar, classical jazz music plays, some feature of this cave allows jazz to sound there in a completely unusual way. A visit to the caves also assured me personally of how amazing the phenomenon of human fantasy is, sometimes people see this in rock formations ...Well, for example, the pregnant Statue of Liberty.
If someone sends me to hell, I will answer "I was there" (thought up while climbing and crawling to South Demerdzhi).
The most difficult part of the route, the slope in some places is 75 degrees, in the scorching heat - this is something. After the first ascent, I wanted one thing - to crawl somewhere into the shade and suffer quietly. Even the promised extraordinary fortress Funu had no desire to see. Although near the fortress we were inspired by the cherry trees growing nearby.
My professionally deformed soul of a psychologist was sincerely pleased with the Freudian associations that some of my comrades visited in the Valley of Ghosts (the valley itself looks like high rounded rocks standing among the trees).
I don't want to remember further ascents at all. It was difficult to walk, the feeling of a friendly elbow helped a lot. It so happened that our tent held together and it provided just unrealistic support.
The evening of that day served as the apogee and was a worthy end to the day's torments. Stomping in the dark on the scree, about fifty percent of us must have cursed everything and everything to ourselves.
When the long-awaited parking was also occupied, the people seem to have completely lost heart. But mashed potatoes with stew this spirit, it must be admitted, was restored quite quickly.
Let's sing as they sang in the old days ...(c) tyreno
It was generally interesting with songs on the campaign, at first it was difficult, but by the middle the people sang: they sang around the fire, sang at the crossings, sang at the sea when they lived in Sudak, sang on the train on the way home. The instructor Ilya and I also tried to sing together, it seems “Phantom”, the trouble was that he knew the melody, and I knew the words, so it was probably funny to listen to us.
A stream is overthrown from the mountain.
The Dzhur-Dzhur waterfall is a tourist object, so the hopes that we would be alone, in the bosom of pristine nature somehow did not come true.
In addition, the entrance to the territory is paid.
We, as befits poor heroes and normal students, took a detour. Perhaps, none of the group will forget this circus for a long time. About thirty people in bright clothes, desperately rustling leaves and pretending that they were not there, another anecdote was called from the depths of memory, about an elephant that was tiptoeing into a china shop.
The landscape was complemented by foresters sitting (in the literal sense) under each bush along the sides of the paths and asking completely ridiculous questions: “Who are you? ", " Where are you from? ". Well, it’s not clear that we came with another excursion. Do we carry backpacks solely to maintain physical fitness?
Another crown stupid question was: “What is this on your ass? ". Fashion is so new, it's called pendel, haven't you heard? Well, how could you, the most squeak now.
Grandmothers who groaned and gasped aroused special tenderness: “Oh, children, how do you carry such burdens? What about the boys? And boys are worth their weight in gold.
Ratio 1/3. By the way, I once again admired how strong men are, I was bent over from the module and sugar, and they also have tents and a bunch of other joy.
Before the trip, I heard such maxims that hiking is “not a woman’s business”, with a backpack in the mud, fu ...Although, in my opinion, on the contrary, it’s nice to know that you are a woman and even so you can, in the city you can be weak and feminine, but on a hike a little stronger. This is not given to men, although they are unlikely to worry about this.
Who is in the forest, who is for firewood.
The confusion began in Sudak, which is understandable, you won’t go everywhere in a crowd of forty people. That's why everyone's memories are completely different. Our tent, which continued to spend fifty percent of the time together, indulged in a simple biogenic joy - food, since Sudak is full of this goodness, only money is a significant limiter.
Lay la, la la la la la la la la
La-la-la-la