The sanatorium

It happened that four early springs I met far from my home town in Caucasus. The sanatorium (health centre) stood at the edge of the huge forest, that covered the Mashuk mountain. It was 5 stored new building that has appeared among very old, or it's better to say antique buildings few years ago. Children from all parts of the Soviet Union came there and were provided with all the possible facilities. There was the myopathy health center on the second floor. I think, it was the only one in the USSR. There was enough place for 35-40 children from 6 to 16 years old. Can you imagine what an exploit should parents do to give their beloved child the chance to get that place 4 times? When I heart about going to the sanatorium for the first time, I was 7 years old, and hadn't an idea what did this word mean. Most of all I was afraid of operations, which I never had, and injections, which were made in plenty. I was told that nothing of those things threatened me. A little lie of grown-ups, like usually.

Of course, I had "happiness" to got 2 injections a day and the course of acupuncture, too. There were also other more pleasant treatments like the radon bathes and mud cure. In several years I have known that such treatment gave only progressive weakness and no use at all.

 Two months being far from my home and parents were the severe test for a home child as me. My Granny went there with me and rented a room in the town. Visiting me every day she brought something tasty. We went for walks and when I came to the sanatorium next times all places around it were familiar for me.

March in my native town is almost the winter month. There is a lot of snow everywhere which starts to melt only in the second part of the month. Well, in Piatigorsk it was quite another way, the true spring without any traces of the snow. By the way, the name of that town could be translated as "Five mountains", they circle it from all sides. Sure there is a beautiful legend that I don't remember in details unfortunately. Something about the tragic love between Kazbek's daughter Mashuk and a noble young man Beshtaw who was killed by the ferocious father. The poor girl couldn't survive the death of her beloved and became a mountain, her tears turned into medicinal sources. Beshtaw was cut in several pieces and just so many tops there are on this mountain. Why there isn't at least one happy love story? Always someone should die.

     

My mum and me in 1978 in Pyatigorsk.

 It takes only two hours and half by plane and the warm coat with winter high boots aren't needed any more. What a pleasure to wear shoes and feel not slippery ice under the feet but the steady ground. I wouldn't like to use the commonplace words about fresh mountain air but what else could one say if it's true. The town is full of nice old parks and picturesque lanes where it was possible to meet an elk and even feed it from the hand. Long walks in the forest higher and higher towards the Mashuk's top, that never was reached; too long way, which much easier to get to by the funicular. The search of the snowdrops, sitting on the huge warm stones and watching funny green lizards. One rainy day, when we stayed prisoners  in the play room, someone cried,"Look, the deers!" Everybody rushed to the window to see a pictures show of the deer family walked out of the forest and freezed on the hill.

Children of many nationalities with different cultures and languages came there. A Latvian boy, hardly knowing twenty Russian words, who looked coldly at everybody. A Tadjik boy on crutches, also with poor Russian, but who always smiled and found a kind word for everyone. A chatterbox girl from Ukraine and a shy, romantic Armenian girl with huge black eyes. Many years later, when the USSR came to the last period of its existents with plenty local conflicts, I couldn't understand the reason of that international tension hate. Why it was so easy and natural to have good relations among us in that sanatorium. An Azerbaijani played with an Armenian, a Chechen and a Russian didn't hate each other. It wasn't of great importance what your nationality was, we paid attention only to the personal qualities.