Tea With Boris

I just got back to Luzern, and am nestled warmly under my goose down covers. It was a really good weekend, but I didn't sleep well at all, and find my self in need of a nap.

My weekend went just as I planned. I got up to the mountains around two in the afternoon on Saturday, checked for spiders (there were none... until this morning when I found one as big as the palm of my hand sitting in the sink), unpacked, turned up the heater, and then set out to find Boris.

If you are a long time blog reader of mine, you are probably familiar already with Boris, you probably just don't know it. If you aren't a long time reader, then you can try and catch up by referring to, this.

I had met Boris a little over a year ago, in my grandparent's village, Prattlen. Boris was working as a dancer, traveling around Europe with a group of drunk Russians. Boris looked extremely sad and lonely when the Russians made him dance for me in the park that crisp October night, with nothing but a vest and hat funny little hat on; I couldn't help but feel bad for the guy.

About two weeks ago I ran into a puppy, named Bunny. Bunny is a 6'4 red-head, who snowboards up by my parent's cabin in the mountains. I run into Bunny every now and then, and he is always drunk to the point where he usually ends up submerged in water. Bunny however mentioned the arrival of a Russian bear, who had taken a place behind Grey Rock Peak, deep in the Green Pine Forest. It wasn't the easiest place to find, which made it the obvious choice for a Russian dancing bear on the run.

The trek up Grey Rock Peak was a bitch. Luckily the majority of the snow had melted at that altitude and there wasn't a lot of ice. It was cold though and the wind kept burning my face. The real difficulties didn't come until the Green Pine Forest though. Bunny hadn't really known the exact placement of Boris' place, seeing how not even the locals go up into the forest. I was a little scared, the first two hundred feet in was a solid wall of branches and trunks, and the forest floor was frozen solid and in some places, icy. The branches and trunks slowly came untangled though, and soon I found a cleared path, which I thought to stick to. It was a good half hour before I finally came upon the small house, it had started to get dark and it looked nice and warm inside the little wood cabin.

I knocked on the door and pulled the bottle of vodka out of my Freitag. Boris slowly answered the door, he was wearing a warm red robe and slippers. I introduced myself again and shook Boris large paw. He invited me in and smiled when I gave him the vodka.

The cabin was extremely cozy and warm, and my body started to de-frost and relax. Boris took my coat and I took a seat by the stove as he made us some tea and brought out a box of Palvalovs.

Boris set down two cups and started to serve the tea, and I took a Palvalov to be polite. I asked Boris what had happened since the night we met and he told me the story of how he had escaped the drunken Russians one night in Prague when they had all passed out from too toasts. He had then sought asylum in Switzerland, and taken to the Green Pine Forest because of it's scenic views and quiet isolation. I told Boris that I was very happy for him, and that I was glad that he finally regained his freedom, but why hadn't he gone home to Russia? Wasn't he lonely? Didn't he miss his family?

Life is different for a dancing bear, he said. Yes, he is lonely, and he misses his family and friends very much, but Russia "iz just not home any more." I told Boris that I had just written a blog on that very thought, and that there are a lot of people dealing with that exact same problem. Boris then told me that his only way to deal with the loneliness was to seclude himself in it, and I told him I understood. I never thought I would come to such a level of understanding with a bear, but here I was sitting by a warm pipe-top stove, drinking tea with an Russian bear named, Boris.

Boris and I sat by that stove for hours, him telling me stories about growing up in a forest outside of St.Petersburg, dancing for Stalin, drinking with Tolstoy. His stories were amazing, and I suggested that Boris start his own blog, until I remembered he probably couldn't type with his long claws. The more stories Boris told, the sadder he became and it was with his final story, about the last time he was in his homeland, that he started to cry. I slipped a little of the vodka into his tea and handed him his cup. He drank and after a minute of me rubbing his furry arm he wiped his eyes and smiled sheepishly, this was the first time in years he had a chance to think on those times, when life was about living and not about trying to survive with the absence of friendship and love, he said. It all broke my heart, and as the sun began to break over the tallest mountain, we said out goodbyes. Boris gave a new meaning to the term "Bear hug," and I promised I would come visit next time I came up, and he said he would be looking forward to it.

I walked the path back through the woods, into the thicket, and out the other side. As I began my decent down the peak, the sun hit me in the face, and for the first time in weeks I felt it's warmth and it felt like being kissed by gold.

When I got back to the house I made my self an Nespresso and settled into my place at the kitchen table to type up more recipes for my book. I spent the rest of my time watching TV, movies and eating. It was a comfortable weekend and aside from the lack of sleep I feel pretty relaxed. Unfortunately this was also my last three day weekend for a while, and this is looking to be an insanely busy month coming up, meaning I won't be able to visit Boris for a while. It was really nice to make a new friend and talk in the capacity that Skipper made me accustom too, and it made it gave me a new found fondness for bears.