In the Kudablin project, we send completely different people on traveling at our expense! Polina Czech and her friend visited Karlovy Vary. The girls completely plunged into the atmosphere of the 19th century – they abandoned the Internet, electricity and entertained themselves only as people did more than a hundred years ago. What is it
– Read the report!
I woke up. One hand stretched behind the phone, the second pulled Crinoline. “No phone!” – The 19th century is in the yard.
For about forty minutes they decided whether we can take a camera with us: documentation VS Clean Experiment. I wanted to clarify this question with OneTwotrip, but then I remembered that at my disposal, except for the pigeon mail.
– Ay! And I turned on the light in the bathroom, ”says Anya.
– 2: 1. You are for electricity and phone, but for me for curses. While winning.
“It’s hard all the same when you know that this exists.” Phones, electricity, Internet …
– Navigator, buses … It feels like the task of selling mineral water was much easier. But what to do. But I flipped through several stories and books during the plane and made a list of what the intelligentsia was doing.
– AND?
“The feeling is like nothing.”
Laughed.
– You have to get out. Maybe we’ll talk about painting while I am cherishing you?
A few minutes later we left the hotel: dressed in historical costumes discussing Picasso and fly (it doesn’t matter that they are not one of those centuries), and heading for their first bohemian breakfast.
Kiti walked with her mother and with a Moscow colonel, who had fun flapping in his European coat -ready in Frankfurt as a fruit. They walked on one side of the gallery, trying to avoid Levin, who walked on the other side. Varenka in her dark dress, in a black hat bent down with the fields, walked with a blind Frenchwoman over the entire length of the gallery, and every time she met with Kiti, they threw themselves with a friendly look. (Tolstoy L.N. “Anna Karenina”)
Everyone is staring. The neck is folded right. Someone is stammering, giving way to the road. Empty span.
The restaurants are still closed, so we stop taking the bruckwoman on the market. The man behind the bench scatters in compliments in broken Russian.
-Seat-Eat! Not money! He says when we hold out banknotes.
We look at each other and sit at the only seated table. The owner of the kiosk alternately brings us coffee and breakfast, giving a smile for a smile.
– Do you think he serves everyone like that?
– I doubt…
We go to the promenade in the Karlovar gallery. Although it will be or rather to say “Karslbaden” – after all, in the “our” century the city was called just like that. We buy special mugs for mineral springs – we don’t feel queues, since everyone is parting with interest in front of rustling skirts. Water in most sources is hot, but not burning. We side with the ninth – it is from constipation.
The Chinese brethren asks to take a picture, but we refuse: if you draw portraits, this is for a sweet soul.
– So, they walked along the galleries, treated with waters, and discussed those present. Then what?
– And then we climb the mountain, walk through the forests.
– In dresses?
– Do you think the ladies changed into jeans in the 18th century?
On the return journey, she laughed and wailed. She broke a long branch, put it on her shoulder, like a gun, tied her head with a scarf. I remember that we met a numerous family of blond and stiff British; All of them, as if on command, with cold amazement, spent Asya with their glass eyes, and she, as if to spite them, sang loudly. (Turgenev I.S. “Asya”)
– Anya, wait! Come on a little slower! Please!
Both had his own cardiotner – Anya had a hard corset, I have a huge crinoline and heels. But she so famously threw the hem of the dress in her arms that I walked behind, clinging to the hoops under her skirt, and envied.
Most people overcome this peak on the electrical lifting – but the nobles did not hear about this. We wrapped on all new narrow paths along a pedestrian serpentine, with every step, trying to go down. We did not even understand exactly where we were not crazy – the paths were not marked on the paper map. It seems that we got our climbing diary: with Blackjack and Crinolines.
“How did they climb like that before?!”
– They had men accompanied with whom they clung to their hands. Or servants with fan …
– I would definitely not refuse the servant …
But finally, we reached the beautiful view of the castle (or rather for a stylized hotel), and our suffering was paid in full. They were wicked, sank to a bench. Incredibly beautiful.
We sit, smooth the skirts. Russians pass by and, hearing our speech, turn off from their path.
“You can ask, why are you doing this?!” – The girl is squinting at us.
– The task is. Live the day as in the 19th century. Here we are in costumes, without the Internet …
– But why? The standing woman asks nearby.
– In order to tell your subscribers later. Bloggers are first offered several directions, and then tasks.
– Ah, bloggers. – the girl pursed lips. – Mom, let’s go, they are bloggers.
And they left.
I turn to Ana with a laugh.
– “Ah, bloggers.” Sounds like “Ah, holy fools.”
– Yeah. A little with a schiz.
We admired the views plenty and went back for the cool and such necessary lemonade.
And already in the city I see an inscription that immediately ignites the imagination.
– An, and went to the casino?!
They passed a number of magnificent rooms filled with courtesy waiters. Several generals and secret advisers played Vist; Young people sat, collapsing on the sofas, ate ice cream and smoked tubes. In the living room at a long table, near which twenty players were crowded, the owner and metal bank were sitting. (Pushkin A.S. “Peak Lady”).
I imagined myself in the saloon. Maps fly around, the hands of the croupier move and the thicknesses make all new bets. She saw the Pushkin German, who was lost to fluff of Nicolas Rostov, or, in extreme cases, scenes from Poor Nastya.
After a daytime sleep in a salt cave, massage and wellness bathing, we put on dresses again to finally make this day more interesting. Eyes burned, a step was wrapped, just to get to the casino as soon as possible.
I am not a gambling person: so that it was not even curious to visit such a place. But any opportunity to find an interesting story – and I am already running forward faster than the tracen horse.
And so we go to the hotel – at the parade, the magnificent skirt barely fits into the door. The guy at the reception smiles perplexedly, but welcomes. Open the coveted door.
What is this?!
A bunch of machine guns, two empty tables with a poker in the farthest corner, one single lady behind a one -armed bandit is unlucky, judging by the face – and an employee who was surprised at the door that opened even more than our species.
It was a fiasco.
I felt deceived, as if instead of a soup, water from a local river was poured into a plate.
What can be machines in the 19th century?! And we can’t play poker together!
Disappointed, angry, with owed our hands we trudged to the nearest cafe – to seize stress with sucrose.
– What else can we do? – asks a friend. – What else in your aristocratic list?
– Bals, but I watched the poster and are not expected to have any parties, the concerts of the orchestras, but they only went to each other next weekend … They went to each other, but we didn’t meet anyone in a day. In short … everything is sad.
– Yeah.
I wanted to fall in the hands and lie with a seal right under the cafe table.
Dancing frantically inside the circle. They circled them, connected in pairs and pulled by a chain by the son of a comrade prosecutor, the lyceum student Coca Kornakov. He conducted dancing <...>. And everyone applauded, and this moving, shuffling and ruptuous crowd was surrounded by ice cream and cool. (Pasternak B.L. “Doctor Zhivago”)
In any incomprehensible situation, you need to go to street musicians.
The evening promenade began with the guitarist – who mumbled more and thanked for the money left than played. They wanted to stand next to him so that they gave him more money for our costumes (the nobles were engaged in charity work), but his attempts in the game on a string instrument were too sad.
Five hundred meters went – and met him. Saksafonist playing in front of one of the galleries.
Around there were beautiful, forged benches, all directed in his direction. Tired, still sad after the failure of the casino, we sat on one of them in order to relax at least a little.
How he played!
I did not even notice how to rather shake my head to the beat to modern songs played in a new way.
One glance at the empty gallery was enough so that the legs could not stand. I went after the saxophonist, for the columns hiding from dozens of eyes. And she began to dance.
Gradually, bolder, I walked through the whole gallery, catching the smiles of the audience and girlfriends. And then she joined me. Strictly speaking, we do not know how to dance – but it was absolutely not important, because we laughed, played catch -ups, waltzed and circled.
This was our debut at an impromptu ball.
When they returned home at night, another group of Russians caught us: to ask why we are doing this. Explained.
– That’s right, show everyone what it was in those years. Show Russia. Aristocracy! – the elderly lady smiles.
“Eh, imagine how great it would be if everyone were so dressed,” another says dreamily. – Now on the evening Carlsbaden, but with a cane and a companion …
– We are proud of you, girls. Get proud!
The happy we returned to the hotel. I did not want to take up the phone at all.
The author of the text and the photo: Polina Czech (@Pochekh)
Photo for Preverty: Unsplash.com
