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the vast reservoir that led to the Volga-Don Canal. There was a gentle evenness to the days. As some of the pressure of Volodya’s demands lifted from her, other thoughts rushed in to fill the void—particularly thoughts about her cousins. She had loved them at first meeting but had she been fooled? Paul had asked how she could know they were truly her family? She couldn’t answer that. Now that she had seen how imperative it was for Volodya to leave the Soviet Union, what if others were in the same boat—desperate to leave and forging fake family connections to help themselves? The betrayal would be agonizing and she determined to put it out of her head until she could visit with the cousins again. For now it was better to concentrate on her teaching.
Fuelled by their previous ten days of sightseeing, her students were eager to practise the language they had been learning.
“Raz, dva, tree, chetiri,” she chanted to the group during their on board sessions. They chanted back: One, two three, four. It was a trick to stir up the energy and get them warmed up and speaking Russian. She paired them up—Len with Linda, Hank with Maria, and so on, to role play simple verbal exercises: shopkeeper and customer, ballet dancer and audience, and even Natasha and student—that one had proved hilarious—though they were careful not to let the tour guide see what they were up to. They traded phrases back and forth and soon were speaking clumsily with one another.
Chopyk, visibly relaxed, relieved of his duties for the time being, had found a scholarly friend in a touring history professor from the University of Chicago, and the two men frequented the lounge or strolled the promenade deck engaged in earnest discussion.
Every morning, David led the keeners in energetic fitness exercises on the deck to the delight of Natasha who considered such exercise healthy and a sign of the beneficial effect of Communism on the students. In fact, it was not Communism but the rich, meaty diet that drove most of the participants to David’s program. In the mornings two yawning waitresses served them a sumptuous breakfast: eggs, sausage in varying hues of pink and grey, dried apricots or prunes, semolina porridge and glasses of yogurt-like kefir to drink. For lunch, there was ample smoked fish, sliced meat, and always a side plate of tomatoes, pickles and the ever-present cucumber. Dinner involved four courses: soup, mushrooms in sour cream, sometimes caviar, with a main dish of potatoes, chopped cabbage and meat, often a rubbery chicken or short ribs.
Libros Libertad 