Open any glossy magazine at the moment and what do you see? Endless photos of models in swimsuits, articles about sunscreen lotions and the best places for summer vacations, and that about sums it up. And there I am, sitting in a stifling hot office and feeling fed up with life in general. Just recently, for example, I met the potential man of my dreams. His name’s Brian, he’s American and works in some big research company or other, he’s 22, a Leo, tall enough and not overweight.
I never ate before at Prime, but on that day, I ran in to get away from the heat and started looking through the sandwiches on offer, inspecting the number of calories in each. Not that I have to worry about my figure, but I wouldn’t want a bit of extra blubber on my backside. I just spied this one remaining salad sandwich when someone’s hand reached out and grabbed it.
Well, I told the owner of the hand all my thoughts on his behavior, the sandwich, the heat and the principle of letting girls go first. Then he turned around and I saw that he was the man of my dreams, and of course I melted immediately. And then? Then we went for a walk, had lunch, went to the movies, went out for dinner…
And then it was the weekend. What were we to do? It was too soon to take Brian to the dacha and introduce him to my mother, but going to the movies was boring, and restaurants and clubs are for the evening. So I remembered those glossy magazines and figured we should go to the beach.
But which beach? There’s Flagman, but my girlfriends who work in PR might see me and tell the whole country. Serebryany Bor? The result would be the same. I started studying Moscow’s beaches down to the most minute detail. Windsurfing, kite-surfing, diving, water-skiing, yachting, canoes, near and far beaches, deep and shallow water, cold and warm water, I looked at it all.
Finally I found the answer: a wild, sandy beach on Novoshchukinskaya Ul. not far from the upscale Aliye Parusa residential complex. The tram stop has the same name as the street. It’s not far from the Strogino reservoir, one of the city’s cleaner areas. One of my friends recommended it. Her car broke down there, and while she waited for the mechanic she had the chance to swim several times over.
Our first stop was the Aliye Parusa supermarket, where I bought mineral water, buns, bananas and a bag of apples. Brian asked why we needed so much food, but I told him that you always work up an appetite in the fresh air. We got to the beach at 2:30 p.m. and found a place by the water where it wasn’t so hot. Brian wanted to dive in immediately, but I suggested lying in the sun for a bit first. The thing is, I didn’t know how to tell him that as this beach isn’t an official one, there’s no sanitary or other guarantees here, and he might need to visit a dermatologist after swimming in this water.
I had just covered myself in sunscreen and stretched out when Brian suddenly asked if this was a gay beach. "No," I said, after a long pause, "It’s just an ordinary wild beach." "So why are there so many gays and lesbians here?" he asked.
Indeed, anything is possible when the temperature is over 30 degrees. There certainly were a lot of people entwined in various positions, embracing and flirting. But how could I explain that these two girls capering about together in the water weren’t lesbians, but just didn’t know how to swim?
I got sick of trying to explain this whole concept of beach entertainment and began on the food supplies. They were soon gone. At 4:15 p.m. someone walked on my head, at 4:30 p.m. someone’s beach ball landed on my stomach, and by 4:45 p.m. I had a headache from all the shrieking kids and shouting parents. Then I looked at Brian and realized that if I didn’t roll him into the water, he’d get sunstroke. Shortly afterwards, we packed up our things and went our various ways.
I think I’ll have to give Brian a couple of days at least to get over this initiation to Moscow’s beaches. You’d probably be hard pressed in America to find a beach like this in the middle of a city with people wandering around stark naked, drinking hard liquor in the baking sun, playing volleyball, water polo, and zooming around in their little boats…
Yes, you don’t have to go far for adventures. But this coming weekend, I’m taking Brian to the dacha to meet my mother, pick mushrooms and berries, do a spot of fishing and laze around in the hammock. Pretty boring, I agree, but when you think about it, there can be some charm in that.