“The world is a book, and he who does not travel reads only one page of it”
I do not know if this story will bring you a little bit good and positive emotions, my dear friend, but I want to tell you about a little adventure with a cheerful sound fell into my moneybox of happy and joyful days…
I think everyone in their lifetime have these moments, events and people who are associated with the warmest, kindest and brightest memories. It is these memories that become the most valuable and intimate property for every person who warms and excites the soul...
My little story began with the fact that among the glamorous celebrity posts, when I have accidentally stumbled upon an essay contest "where the Motherland begins", where as a n award there was an eight-day journey through the North Caucasus.
Grinning skeptically, I decided to try: the village, sketched a few lines and a few minutes later I was busy with the other thoughts which were «more important »
I have a character to do everything at the last moment. I was horrified to find that the deadline has passed, and I did not have time to send an application. Swearing at myself in all the languages of the world, I decided to write this essay, no matter what. What do you think?!It turns out that due to a technical error the deadline was extended for one day, and my application was accepted.
And what was my surprise when in the morning I found myself in the lists of the 8th lucky winners!!! Jumping back on the couch all the joy and all the emotions, I suddenly sat down and thought — is not this a catch?!Well, how is it possible that out of 4 thousand essays chose mine? Divorce?!Someone's evil joke? Editors' mistake?!
Convinced of the transparency of the project and its genius, I began to tune in and look forward to the bright emotions of the upcoming trip…
Part 2. How the Motherland begins… Closing all the tabs on the Internet, and not paying attention to the notifications in Instagram, I began to write and post my thoughts that seem too contrasting against the background of what is happening outside the window and in the world: urban chaos, the noise of cars, political strife, congestion and fatigue of some people... and my thoughts are not here, they are far gone to where the homeland begins.
"Where does it begin?"- one may ask themselves...I Think it starts with us. After all, each person carries a particle of the very native place, which is associated with the brightest, kindest and warmest memories.
For me, as for many people, the homeland is first of all my family, my family and close friends, the house in which smells in a special way, the street where I broke my knees more than once, running away from the dogs, is a lawn overgrown with sedge from which we cooked imaginary dishes and the air, so clean and fresh, with a taste of summer.
I consider myself a happy person, because I have two homeland: one — South Ossetia, the place where I grew up and spent the most carefree childhood years, where I am happy to return after a long separation; the other is Russia, where I am now, studying and laying the Foundation for my future.
Every year the homeland gets an image of the native person who saw as you were born, saw your first steps, watched as you grew, rejoiced to your first victories and endured with you the first disappointments. The homeland became the person to whom, once again leaving, you promise to return: in a day, in a month, in a year, but by all means to return.
The way a great Russian lyrical poet Alexander Alexandrovich Blok once, said: "The more you feel the connection with the Motherland, the more real and more willing to imagine it as a living organism."
In the modern world, every year everything is changing rapidly, only the image of that quiet, native and painfully familiar “ harbor of my childhood” , my memories and good hopes remains unchanged.
Our journey began with the city of Stavropol. What a clean, cozy and tree-covered city it is! It is not for nothing that it is considered the greenest city in Russia! And how many interesting sights and beautiful places are there!
Then we went to Arkhyz, where we visited the ancient temple of the 10th century, which in the old days was admired by merchants of "silk caravans”, who carried goods from China to Byzantium, communicated with travelers who traveled the world up and down, drank herbal tea by the fire and listened to stories.
Our way laid down through the Honey falls. I think many are interested in the question of the name of these waterfalls.
"Once upon a time on the banks of the river and in the rocks lived swarms of wild bees. The rains had washed down a honeycomb, and a drop of honey dripping on the rocks. People standing under the rocks were dripping honey on their lips....That's why this Paradise is called " Honey waterfalls»
Honey from the rocks we have not tried, but enjoyed the beautiful national cuisine! We liked this place so much for its atmosphere and scenery that our entire journey we have more than once fondly remembered it!
The final point was North Ossetia (Digor gorge). Here we climbed the sacred mountain Kubus, which offers a spectacular view!!! These mountains are like eternity! This power of peaks tearing the sky to shreds... and of course the feeling of freedom and happiness that we so often lack in the bustle of everyday life…
The culmination of our trip was the Kabardino-Balkar Republic, where situated the great Elbrus mountain, which is the highest peak in the whole European continent. Though, we climbed the slope of the highest peak of Europe (3500 meters above sea level), rode on steep and snowy slopes, admired the colorful string of climbers, as well as the harsh and powerful Elbrus.
In conclusion I just want to quote the great George Mallory: "Adventures give us joy. But joy, after all, is the purpose of life. We don't live to eat or make money. We eat and earn money to be able to rejoice. That's the meaning of life, and that's what it's given for."
Tags #stellerstories #Caucasus#mountains#storyteller#crestcontest