It is a very sad story. I swear on my mother’s soul, you will cry as a child. The entire queue for the registration cried. They cried out of laughter looking at my husband’s and my faces. What else is to say about the parents who forgot that their kid’s 3-year visa had expired??? Mallorca, Nyusha, Motyan, bays, pines… Everything collapsed into a pixel picture right at the passport control.

Anna Mongayt took the news about our not coming up stoically. She moaned slightly and cried cried a seagull. Children sobbed, my husband having clenched his teeth hissed “I’m not coming back home”, the situation was heating up, so we decided to look at the departure board.

In an hour the aircraft of the company “fly with whatever there’s” lifted our bodies into the air without promising to return them back on earth. Secretly from the child and the stewardesses we had some not-duty free sedatives from the micro bottles and reflected on “fuck it all” topic, trying to say goodbye to sunny Balearic Islands without sorrow. But we couldn’t, so finally we fell asleep.

The sun tore out our eyes at the airport of Simferopol. Where are we going?” the responsible child asked her parents. The poor girl still didn’t know that her parents when they were younger used to sleep in the dog parks in Prague and to travel to “nowhere” as if it was to “the one and only” place. “I’ll tell you in a minute,” I murmured trying to check in somewhere in Simferopol with a note “HELP!!!”

The phone rang in 15 seconds. It was Igor Kalmykov dying from laughter. “You fools, call Olya!” Indeed, we are fools. Olya Kuznetsova! Fine superb Olya and her “Onegin”, in the infinity pool of which above the breakages of Gurzuf about a hundred of our common friends had checked in not a long time ago. It is very easy to confuse “Onegin’s” views with Toscana seaside because of the abundance of rocks and cypresses, cognac’s wear off was as easy at us especially because we started to realize that the happiness was nearby, just somewhere around the corner.

Friendship creates miracles! Otherwise, how would you find a room in the peak season, without any previous notifications, in the most beautiful place on the coast? All the 40 rooms were booked so Olya gave us her “nest”, 100-meter space on the roof of the hotel. A breathtaking view…And the eternal Pinot Noir introduced to us by Kirill Grebenshchikov. Oh, the Popovs arrived! And the Berkovich, finally we get to know each other better! Cool, Akimova is here! Feldman, hey why did it take you so long to get here? Great “summer camp” where all the parents know each other and the children at once find a common language with each other. “Who’s diving for a bottle of rosé? WE DO!”

10 days passed over as a hurricane. Yachts, rocks, Artek, love and rosé on the occasion and without any. Fuzzy skin of peaches, us, and the child buried in my shoulder. Under the influence of childhood memories Pinot Noir enfolded into very special aromas. Oysters in Katsiveli. Mussels next to the road. Crimea! I don’t care about the politics. The peninsula has always been mine and it will remain the same. Childish, drunk, spontaneous.

“Next year we’re going both to Mallorca and Crimea, aren’t we?” asked Vera on the way back home. “OF COURSE”, promised the green-eyed taxi Mercedes flying over the hairpin turns towards the airport. “FOR SURE,” roared the plane turbines for only 100 Euro. “OH YEAH,” my husband and me said having spent only a quarter of Balearic budget and actually, with a great difficulty.