Novouralsk

.. or how I didn't get married in Russia!

It's been dark for two hours. The clock says it is past midnight as the tires of our ancient Lada change the tar for the mud and water of the country roads.

We have left the main road from Yekaterinburg about half an hour ago taking small roads to get us around the main official entry points into the closed city. For half an hour there have been no signs of life, no people, no cars, just the deep forest around us.

I can see the shapes of buildings popping out against the sky as we make a left turn to an allotment district. It is very dark and my eyes catch a row of tall poles carrying cables of high voltage electricity into what looks like a deserted half torn down industrial site. I feel like in Tarakovsky's Stalker! Trespassing on forbidden land.. With terrible consequences if caught.

Finally we arrive to our destination. We get out of the car and I breath in the cold dark night. No lights soak through from the nearby city as there are no clouds in the sky. I spot a the light of another crossing about a kilometer away as I am directed onto a narrow path into the woods by Irina's mother. I anxiously await instructions: Take this path. Walk about 7 minutes straight ahead, don't turn away. If you have to use the spotlight keep it low. We shall meet you on the other side.

And so I go. Trying to be quick and quiet. I turn the spot light off as the trees thin out and the light of the crossing post shines through. It's dark, cold and wet. It must have been raining for hours. I'm watching out for slippery rocks and deep puddles of mud as I make my way through. Two more minutes of this effort and I should be out on the other side. -
I cannot avoid thinking why I felt the need to do this. I have to leave the city the following morning anyway.. but I would not miss on an adventure like this, who would? -
Few more steps.. as I separate a column of birch branches to step through and am rewarded with a shower my foot finds a hard surface of a paved road. I am on the other side! I am in the closed city.

I spot an unfamiliar car standing dark and still about 500 meters towards where I remember the crossing post was and freeze. How will I explain myself to the Russian police if it would indeed be them? I do not know where I am going, I have no idea how I got here and I certainly cannot be picking berries at this hour!

The car starts up and slowly makes its way towards me. As it approaches closer I recognize a familiar shape: I did not think there is a time in man's life when he is glad to see an ancient Lada! As the car pulls over I quickly slide myself into the seat, greet my accessories with a big smile and off we take into the suburbs of Novouralsk!

-

It is quite an odd experience finding yourself in a foreign city in a foreign country where no one should know of your existence. The fact that you are a guest at someone house does not particularly ease the feeling if of the four people that know about you you hardly know one of them.

-

Irina pretty much insisted that we go to Novouralsk, to see her mother, her father, her brother and the things and places she used to grow up around. With the very limited time together on our hands it took us long five hours of planing and re-planing to come to a conclusion that we are going. In a way it was decided by Irina's mother who has called, while we were having a lovely chat over pints of lager in one of the few Yekaterinburg pubs I had the chance of visiting, to inform us that she is on her way to pick us up. Since it was past ten o'clock at night there was no way of refusing such a gesture.

After leaving the car in the parking lot and pushing my tired body up the stairs to meet Irina's father I cannot prevent feeling a certain chill in my bones. I am going to meet the girl's father. After a week of acquaintance. Two weeks into my travels.. How on earth will this turn out?

Irina's father is rather a quiet fellow and I can immediately see it is Irina's mother who runs the business. I introduce myself, offer my hand in a handshake and after a few mumbled words from his side our introduction ends. And with it all of our communication for my time there.

Irina's mother offers us food and being past two o'clock in the morning the next thing on the agenda is the feared who sleeps where dilemma - one of the reasons I was considering staying in Yekaterinburg for our last days together. When I am offered to sleep on cushions in her brother's bedroom I am not trying to hide my discontent. I am sure my facial expression in this situation cannot be misunderstood but I am wrong when I'm offered to sleep in his bed instead. After the mother wanders off in search of pillows and blankets I turn to Irina, me eyes filled with horror. She is compassionate. That however does not seem to change anything because it is her father who does not wish us staying in one room together!

As it seems the time does solve some problems. Half an hour later with the father asleep and Irina's firm intervention into the matter we are finally allowed to share the space of one room. A couch for her, cushions on the ground for me and of course a lot of space in between.

After we wish good night to the departing mother and wave off the brother who will probably play computer games till the morning light we finally have time to ourselves. A few kissed in the dark and quiet of the night. I feel scared like a little boy when Irina suggests a shower together. But I am too old to feel like that. And she is too old to be treated so. Nevertheless as I walk the distance between the bathroom and our bedroom I judge every step on the creaky floor carefully. With a fresh taste of mint in my mouth laying my body next to hers in the narrow space of a couch I cannot help but smile. I feel like a teenager again.

-

After waking up into a day that is already late I shove down some tea and biscuits since it feels too early for my stomach to accept the offered lunch. I try not to engage the passing-by father with more then a quick nod to prevent any potential discomfort as we leave for the 'tour' around the city. A quick stop at the train station to secure the tickets for the way back. Irina's old elementary school. The places she used to walk. The official building and sights. Views of the lake and the deep Russian taiga. This is Ural.

We have quite conversations as we stroll along the thinly populated streets. I fall quiet when a local passes by. There are no foreigners here except for the few engineers from abroad once in a while that come to work in the uranium enrichment plant. The first one in Russia, the only one that ever produced weapon-grade highly enriched uranium. But no one seems to mind a mildly foreign looking person with a clearly Russian girl on his side. I do look Russian, I am told by Irina. May be. We are all Slavs after all.
Suddenly we change course as Irina pulls me to the right, away from the military officer walking towards us. The sudden rush of adrenalin however quickly fades as I look into Irina's eyes. He is not following us. She is very confident. It is her city after all. She is a citizen. But still she is at risk here too, although maybe not as much as I am.

I offer her hand in marriage for being so courageous. I kept joking about taking her for my wife in the past week. It was clear teasing and it was fun. That's what women like. A fun confident man that can push boundaries without being a dick - on most occasions anyway.
She laughs and continues speaking about her mother. How happy she is for the both of us to come. Well obviously, she has driven down an hour an a half to pick us up. But it is not that what catches my attention. It is that she has taken two days off of work to clean up her house in preparations for our arrival. That is slightly worrying but nothing prepares me for what comes next - in response to her colleagues' questions about the reason for the days off she divulges that her daughter is coming for a visit with her fiancee! I swallow a hard lump as I realize the state of things:

I am in a foreign city where no one knows I exist. I do not know how I got here nor how to get out of here. None of the people back home know where I am. None of the people back home know this place exists. I am pretty much screwed if I will be asked to marry this lovely girl. There wouldn't be a way out. Not involving the state officials and embassies.

But I am sure we all know this is just good fun, right? I am too young to get married, there are still things to be done on my own. And Irina.. she is mighty lovely, but no one can expect a marriage to come out of this?! Can they?

-

As usually there is not enough time. That's our lot for the whole time together. Always late for everything. It is no different this time when Irina's mother meets us with our things already in the car to take us out of the city. Well, not entirely. We are taking a bus right through the checkpoints! To me it sounds insane and at the first mention of it I felt my gut shrink: Get in the bus, don't speak, look casual. Most of the times this bus does not get checked by the officials. Apparently because it carries people to their allotments outside of the city border. I cannot help but weigh my luck - what if this time is not of those most times?
Since I am not really offered any other option there is nothing I can do when the door of the bus opens in front of me some half an hour later and people start getting on. Oh well, you gotta do what you gotta do. So I make the few necessary steps and seal my fate!

The ride takes about 10 minutes before it takes us near to the checkpoint. 10 minutes of silence and a put-on face filled with boredom and disillusion. Just like the rest of our comrades on the bus. The closer we get to the checkpoint I can feel another emotion making it's way through..

I was told that after arrival to the checkpoint a door is to close behind us and for a moment we'll be trapped in a cage of steel and barbwire just before the front one opens to let us out of the city. I am preparing myself as I see the military building and three officials observing the approaching cars. This is the time. I brace myself as we are slowing down. I avert my eyes to avoid the military man's gaze as we slowly drive by. I hope they had a tough night. That they are old and tired to be bothered to check fifty plus people on this bus. We enter the cage and I can see it closing around us already.. but the bus does not seem to be stopping.

We go through the gate in one go as if there was no other alternative. As if this was the only possible outcome. As if it was any one of the other roads.

And then it comes: a sudden relief of senses, an immediate wave of happiness draws a wide smile across my face. I did not realize the tensions in my body until now, it all falling away. I wonder whether this is the taste of freedom or just the endorphins from making it out untouched.

As we the exit bus on the first bus stop I grin like a clown and cannot hold my impressions until we're out of the reach of the locals. I am quickly shushed by Irina but the one Russian who could hear the strange language is even more bored and disillusioned then the others to notice or care. -

Ah, back to being the master of my own destiny. It does taste sweet indeed.

-

We have over an hour to kill before our train departs so Irina's mum takes us to her allotment. To pick berries of all sorts and to have a walk in the lovely countryside.

With three kilos of locally grown produce we make our way to the train station. It is located on the outside of the city. The barb-wired concrete fence does not seem so unfriendly from the outside as we walk along it to get to the platform. Irina's mother, taking a quicker route through the city meets us there, but she is not alone. A man in his thirties is introduced to me as Irina's half brother. More family, nice. We attempt some small talk, third English, third Russian and third Slovak. Irina acts as the interpreter when our efforts seem to fail.

With 10 more minutes to the train's arrival we are met by two other women. One is introduced to me as Irina's aunt and the other one as her step grandmother. I cannot help but grin at this situation: I met more members of her family in these two days then in all my previous relationships combined. Irina notices my facial expression and deduces my thoughts. Then she turns to the others and speaks hastily in Russian. From my knowledge of the language I can hear she speaks of my fears of being trapped here and forced into marriage. I can see wide smiles growing on their faces as she speaks. When she reaches the punchline they all burst into laughter. Yeah, I guess it is a funny story. But somehow I cannot seem to join them. It is not as funny if you're the main character.

The train is here. Quick hand shakes, a hug for the mother and off into the real world.

As I sit in the carriage and watch the Urals pass I wonder what I've learned. What was all this about. I whole heartedly tried to avoid being disrespectful by coming there with no clear intentions with their daughter. Hopefully I succeeded. In anyway it was in a way more a wish of Irina and her mother so my conscience should be clear. Is it though?

Ah, who cares anyway. I'm off tomorrow to see the world. That travels are my destination! With that I turn to Irina, a smile on my face, kiss her on the cheek and dig into the big bowl of strawberries - my reward for coming to Novouralsk.

28/07/09 02:30