Collecting Moments

Иду по тенистой улице в Бухаре. Меня обгоняет дедушка на велосипеде, слезает с него и мы вместе продолжаем путь пешком. — Откуда приехала? — Из Португалии. — По-русски хорошо говоришь! — Да, я родилась в Свердловске. — А я в Норильске. «В Норильске?» — удивляюсь я, уже поеживаясь от холода. — Да, — рассказывает дедушка, — моих родителей репрессировали в 1937 году и сослали строить завод. Дед был богатым человеком в Бухаре, его раскулачили. Всех расстреляли, из мужчин остался только мой отец и дядя — братишка мамы. Когда они приехали в Норильск, там почти ничего не было, росли только карликовые деревья. Мы молча идем дальше. Подай мне, пожалуйста, — просит он, указывая на пакет с обрезками, который лежит у дороги. — Это для барашков. У меня неподалёку дом, я держу барашков и кур. — Хорошего отдыха тебе! — прощается со мной дедушка с доброй беззубой улыбкой и исчезает в переулках старой махалли. Я перехожу на солнечную сторону, но долго еще не могу согреться.

В Ташкенте я была один раз — в пять лет. Мы приезжали с родителями навестить родственников папиной мамы Элеоноры Константиновны Грамматович. Она здесь родилась и выросла. В Ташкенте всё для меня было как из сказки. И гроздья спелого винограда, свисавшие над входом в дом моей прабабушки. И арыки, в которых и днем, и ночью журчала вода. И огромные казаны с пловом на базаре. По вечерам мы с папой ходили слушать лягушачий концерт в парке с прудом. Было совсем не холодно, хотя приехали мы осенью. Моя бабушка, которая попала на Урал вместе с дедом на работу по распределению, всю жизнь тосковала по теплу и солнцу Ташкента. Читаю в архивных материалах “Следствие по делу арестованного литературного работника Госиздата Узбекской ССР Грамматовича”. Это мой прадед Константин. “В Средней Азии арестован автор учебников узбекского языка, беспартийный интеллигент Грамматович. Обвиняемый — сын бывшего помещика, привлекался к ответственности за активное противодействие земельной реформе в Узбекистан...

Twelve Kilometers on Foot, Twelve Kilometers by Thumb: What Will Make Our Day? For mid-July in Portugal, it was an unusual day. Instead of sunshine, dense clouds blanketed the sky. On the bus, we noticed tiny raindrops on the windows, which is almost unheard of during the Iberian summer. When we arrived at the trailhead in Azóia, the ground was still dry, untouched by the drizzle. We set off toward the cliffs along a narrow trail squeezed between thorny shrubs.The descent was steep, and the loose stones wobbled beneath our feet. Hiking poles came in handy as we made our way down the slope. Though the clouds dimmed the view, we could still appreciate the vast expanse of the ocean and the quiet strength of the cliffs. Waves crashed against the rocks, and seabirds soared through the salty air. We paused at Arco da Pombeira, a natural arch sculpted by the sea, to take in its rugged form and wild beauty. The weather continued to surprise us as we followed the winding, rocky path through...

Exploring the markets of Cabo Verde was a delightful part of our culinary adventure. Since we mostly cooked for ourselves and rarely ate out, we had the opportunity to sample a variety of local ingredients. In Mindelo , we enjoyed locally caught fish and seasonal vegetables from bustling market stalls almost every day. On Santo Antão , where fish was scarce, we sometimes had to settle for frozen chicken from a neighborhood minimarket. Nevertheless, the abundance of fresh produce kept our meals healthy and flavorful. The markets in Mindelo and Ribeira Grande offered an abundance of fruits and vegetables. Ripe papayas quickly became our favorite treat—the perfect dessert to enjoy with nearly every meal. Below, you’ll find a selection of food prices we encountered during our stay across three islands. All prices are per kilo in escudos, and the official exchange rate was 1 euro to 110 escudos. Mindelo: Parrotfish (bidião) 400 Garoupa de Madeira 500 Sweet potatoes, yam 220 Young pot...

Chronicles of 49 hours and 50 minutes of spontaneity, apagão -lypse and quick decisions April 27th: 20:29 A guy named Raphael sends us an emergency request through a hospitality exchange platform. He missed the last bus, was stranded in our town and was looking for a kind soul to host him for a night. We checked his profile page and it was alarmingly empty. 20:30-20:47 We try to overcome a wave of suspicion and doubt, remembering all the horror stories about inviting complete strangers into your home (just like Swedes and Norwegians before they decide to pick up a hitchhiker). 20:48 We send him a WhatsApp message to ask for his whereabouts. 21:26 Raphael answers and we talk on the phone. He doesn't sound like a serial killer or even like someone who wants to steal our TV. 21:33 We send him our location. 21:56 We open the door to a smiling guy with long hair and a medium sized backpack. He's so laid back, chilled and relaxed that we immediately feel ashamed of ou...

Since we moved closer to the Atlantic two years ago, leaving the creeks and ribeiras of Serra de Estrela behind, I've missed the sound of bustling and plunging water. The ocean has its charms. It has a rhythm but lacks a flow. I’ve hiked to many large and small waterfalls during my travels, but I've never had the chance to stand under one. For a long time, I’ve dreamed of feeling the primal force of the current on my skin. So, when I found out about a hike along a cascading river just outside Lisbon—especially after the heavy April rains that filled all the waterways—I couldn't pass up the opportunity. To reach the trailhead , we took a bus from Lisbon to Loures, and then another bus to Bucelas. From the station, we followed a tarmac road that quickly turned into a dirt path leading to Ribeira do Boição . The trail eventually took us down to a swirling stream that we crossed via an improvised bridge made of a long wooden log. On the other side, a full waterfall awaite...

Cabo Verde may not be the first place that comes to mind when you think of hitchhiking, but during our month exploring the archipelago, we managed to thumb about 100 kilometers across three islands: Sal, São Vicente and Santo Antão. Almost every driver who stopped to pick us up was a local, with the exception of one Ukrainian couple and one Italian family. Remarkably, we only once had to wait more than half an hour; most of the rides came within ten minutes or less. The majority of our hitchhiking adventures took place over two weeks on the mountainous island of Santo Antão. Here's a snapshot of some of the most memorable rides we experienced. On Sal, we hitchhiked to Salinas and back , navigating the stark, arid landscape where fierce winds kicked up sand into the hot air, making the journey feel raw and elemental. The unforgettable ride to the Amílcar Cabral airport stands out as one of the best hitchhiking experiences I’ve ever had—short but epic. On São Vicen...

For two weeks, the Ribeira da Torre valley was our safe haven and the gateway to most of our hikes across Santo Antão. Here, time slowed to a gentle rhythm, untouched by the rush and hustle of the city. Stories of the locals, shaped by the slow steady pace of life in the mountains, wove seamlessly into the fabric of each day. Soft rustle of banana leaves lulled us to sleep, reminiscent of the soothing sound of waves rolling onto the shore. In the twilight, the setting sun bathed palm trees and volcanic peaks in warm, golden glow, drawing a serene close to the day. As night fell, sharp calls of nocturnal birds pierced the quiet darkness. "Every family around here has its own breadfruit tree, coconut palm, and banana grove. We only eat breadfruit after it's boiled and we pick it before it gets too ripe and sweet. When I was a kid, my favorite dishes were cachupa and feijão with sweet potatoes or yams. We didn’t have much meat, but my mother would add some animal fat to make t...

We used the island of Sal as our gateway to Cabo Verde. The welcome was dusty, windy and extremely dry. So was the goodbye. Of our 30 days in the country, we spent the first two and the last four on this flat desert island. During that time there was hardly a moment of silence, only the wailing and howling that accompanied our every step. And sand, lots of sand, swirling around, flying over and getting into every possible crevice. It reminded us of hamsin in Israel that paints the sun white and the sky yellow. Espargos Our EasyJet flight from Lisbon landed at Amilcar Cabral Airport at about 5:30 pm on March 25th. First of all, we had to sort out the essentials: local cash and mobile data. The former was easily obtained by paying a commission of 285 escudos at the ATM. For the latter, we bought an ALOU 5 GB plan for 30 days for 700 escudos (plus 100 for a SIM card). Given that the airport is only 3 kilometers from Espargos, walking to our accommodation seemed like a viable option...