a pity that this writing is only now - in August rather than in May, immediately after his arrival, when those memories were very fresh.
So where to start. Well, the first adventure, I told you about after we left the center Hotels in the heart of Paris, and then never tell ochem parents, was on a train in Frankfurt am Main - Strasbourg, when we allowed ourselves to relax a little and drink the famous German beers and we were quickly drawn to the dream. The next thing I remember, I was awakened by a German, who check for tickets, and started something quick to explain German. Awake, not quite knowing where we are, I just shook my head, that is OK, you say, I understand everything, even German can say ah, zwei, drei there is still the well-known phrase Heil Hitler, but once I did realize that We go through one stop. And, surprisingly, it was true, but ... we had to do one transplant in a small town, where it was time to minutes, may be three. Of course, such a time I had no idea, but then a good aunt, who sat in front of us turned and said in English, what I see, you understood nothing of what was said and you have a third way, at this station, and then quickly to avoid miss the train and go to platform number 7, where the train travels to Strasbourg. It is still something I explained when I and my friend, who generally have no groping, grabbing our things, and to thank and went running to the platform number 7, which also sat at the right train. If we had stayed in the train, then stopped apparently in Munich. The next time will do so.
After a terrific trip France, where we met a lot of other good and interesting people, seen in a forest of orange snails, the size of a hand, we have finally reached a small hill station Luce la Croix-So do not believe their eyes, we were in the Alps! Our camp was located at an altitude of 1,200 m above probably what Goverla. The road to it was at the side of the mountain, and beneath it was a gap height of about a kilometer, and every time we drove by it, have the desire to pray, so happy to get home. Speaking of home, I am referring to our camp for a month it really became our home. We loved this place not only through the incredible beauty that surrounded us, because there you could see clouds that clung to the mountains, huge eagles, which fly safely, hunting any birds, but more on those of all the people we met, and who have become our friends. They made our trip memorable, not the city that we saw. We were all very different (in this camp were volunteers from 18 countries-Japan, USA, Mexico, Italy, Korea, Azerbaijan, Congo, etc.). But we were so close, even with Nicolas, the guy who once slept with a chicken, that when we slithered, then probably, if not outside, then inside, albeit not one tear. Among our close friends we have called at Paris and Bologna, and many more who are waiting for a visit to Ukraine.Yes there
Paris, we were Vonieri! or continue - the second part!
So, we arrived at the camp. And the first thing we saw was a small village lost in the mountains. Permanent residents of this village was that kind hermits, who exchanged the noise of the city of cities on the fantastic sunsets with a glass of good French wine, and sheep, curly sheep. And then, one after the other members began to arrive to our camp. Each of them brought a piece of their culture. The first thing that struck us was a different perception of the world, the difference in attitude to work, to women. For example, the Germans, long before the rise were ready to begin work. Also remember the occasion when we polished the windows and my girlfriend decided pohalyavit and relax a bit. At this point, we passed by a Turkish guy named Eray. He was very surprised that she sat idly by while the man works. He asked belligerently: "What? - Do you work, pointing at me, and you looking at? ". She said, as if not understanding what he is. Eray then reiterated the question and got the same answer, he left. We were only later realized that he was expecting that my girlfriend will be justified, they say, I just sat down for a minute, and immediately get down to work. But in general, he and his sister were very happy and active in the organization of all parties and drunken escapades.
And now all of the aforementioned Nicolas, who by his eccentric behavior entertained the entire camp. The fact that he woke up for dinner had long ceased to bear a surprise. His neighbors are used even to what it looked like a tent stable. However, once his resourcefulness will amaze even experienced volunteers, not everyone would think to keep the tent chicken feet, which were still with dinner. Seeing this, our Italian friend Enrico speechless! He barely managed to understand what happened, all the while repeating "it ... he ... gnawed chicken in a tent! ". This story has inspired us in earnest. One morning, when everything, as always, went to work, but no, as usual, slept among their dirty shirts and socks, one of the co-organizers of Salem decided to wake him up an original way. After catching a chicken, he threw it in a dirty tent of our hero. But even that did not make him wake up!
Nobody in the camp could not compare with the American guy named Clay's ingenuity and recklessness. Most of us hit his way to an old van on a rural road over the deep abyss. Despite the rainy weather, steep turns and a considerable amount of wine, he never slowed down, not fearing that, if the slightest error would have to fly down for a long time.
This trip for us was unforgettable. However, reading other people's memories a bit boring, so we sincerely wish you a lot of his!