Simple Pleasures

We have noted in the brief time we have been in Russia that the people of this country tend to be somewhat stoic. This is perhaps the consequence of being the children of a generation that had little to smile about. So it was notable when the passengers of our flight to Mineralyne Vody.spontaneously errupted in applause. The occasion of their joy was a safe landing. It is said that low expectations are the gateway to simple pleasures. We are traveling now past modest towns, through fields of Sunflowers, down a two lane road that is often improvised into three. There are lean dogs and motionless burros. Shoeless children play with a kitten near a sad-faced old woman selling watermellons. Incomplete walls protect incomplete homes. There are chickens and hay trucks and cinderbocks and ruins. These towns all have stories we will never know. We are only passing through, Westerners here for some other purpose. There are fewer homes now. Our van is climbing up a rainy green valley along a river none us knows the name of. We would try to ask our driver, but his limited english requires supplemental hand gestures so it is agreed that on such a winding narrow road it is proper to respect the water's anonymity. We sleep. We snack. Richard fiddles with another feature on his I-phone. It is a four hour drive. We arrive.