Chapter 16 Chapter Sixteen
The Caucasus is located in the south of Russia. It is full of high mountains and boundless plateaus from west to east, with a length of about 350 kilometers.To the north stretches the region of the Cossacks, the administrative district of Stavropol, and the steppes of the nomads Kalmuk and Nogais; to the south lies the capital of Georgia, Tbilisi, Kutais, Baku , Elisabeth Tebor, the administrative jurisdiction of Yerevan, and the provinces of Mingrelia, Iletria, Abkassia, and Guriel.The Caucasus is bounded by the Black Sea to the west and the Caspian Sea to the east.
The entire area to the south of the main Caucasus mountain range is also called the Transcaucasus, only Mount Ararat at the border with Turkey and Persia, according to the "Bible" records, is the place where Noah's Ark landed after the flood.
This important region is home to many peoples, some sedentary and some nomadic, Kaztvirs, Armenians, Kyrgyz; Kalmuks and Nogais in the north, Mongol Tatars; Turkish in the south ethnic Tatars, Cossacks.
According to the most qualified scholars in this field, it was in this half-European, half-Asian region that the Caucasians who now populate Eurasia arose.They also refer to this race as "Caucasian".
Russia's three great roads pass through this gigantic barrier, overlooking it the 4,000-meter-high Schatt Elbrus, the 4,800-meter-high Kazbek Mountain - the same height, and the 560-meter-high Elb The peak of Mount Russ.
The first road, both strategically and commercially important, runs from Taman to Poti along the coast of the Black Sea; the second leads from Mostok to Tbilisi via the Daryal Pass; the third The road leads from Kizriyal to Baku via Derbind.
Among these three roads, Lord Kerabong, like his nephew, must of course take the first road.Why enter the labyrinth of the Caucasus mountains, invite many difficulties, and end up late?This is a direct road to Poti, and there is no shortage of towns and villages on the eastern coast of the Black Sea.
There are, of course, railways from Rostov to Vladikavkaz, and then from Tbilisi to Poti, separated by almost only 100 versts, and therefore could have been used continuously.But Ahme had wisely avoided suggesting this mode of transport, since his uncle had already looked very unhappy when it came to the railways of Tauris and Chesones.
Everything is satisfactory.Repaired only in a few places, the indestructible stagecoach left the town of Raevskaya early on the morning of September 7 and drove along the coast road.
Ahme determined to go as fast as possible.He had 24 days left on his journey to reach Skuthari on the stipulated date.His uncle agreed with him on this point.Doubtless Van Mittern preferred to travel at will, collecting more lasting impressions, not at all trying to arrive on a recent day, but they did not consult Van Mittern.He was nothing but a dinner guest at his friend Kerabong's house.Then take him to Skutali, what more could he ask for?
But Bruno, in order to have a clear conscience, thought it necessary to make some suggestions to him during his adventure in Caucasus Russia.After listening to him, the Dutchman asked him what conclusion he had.
"Well, my lord," said Bruno, "why don't you let Lord Kerabon and Lord Ahme run endlessly along the Black Sea?"
"Leave them, Bruno?" asked Van Mettaine.
"Leave them, yes, master, and leave them after wishing them a pleasant journey!"
"Are we staying here?"
"Yes, stay here, and since unfortunate fate has brought us here, let's take a leisurely tour of the Caucasus! After all, here, like Constantinople, we can escape the van..."
"Don't say that name, Bruno!"
"I won't tell, my lord, it won't displease you! But it's because of her that we're caught up in such an adventure! Driving day and night in a stagecoach, almost getting stuck in a swamp or in the moor It's too much, to be honest, it's too much! So I advise you never to argue with Lord Kerabong about it - you won't get the upper hand! - but let him Go, and tell him in a kind word that you will go to Constantinople to find him, when you are happy to return there!"
"It's not right to do that," said van Mettaine.
"But cautiously," Bruno replied.
"Then you think you are worthy of sympathy?"
"It's so sympathetic. Besides, I don't know if you've noticed that I'm starting to lose weight!"
"Not too thin, Bruno, not too thin!"
"No! I know very well that if I eat like this again, I will soon become a skeleton!"
"Have you weighed it, Bruno?"
"I wanted to weigh it in Kerch," replied Bruno, "but I only found a scale for letters..."
"Can't you weigh it with that steelyard?" asked Van Mettaine, laughing.
"Not so much, my lord," replied Bruno solemnly, "but it will be enough to be called your servant in a short time!—Do you see, shall we let Lord Kerabon go his way?"
Of course, Van Mettaine was not pleased with this way of traveling, for he was a man of integrity and stability, and never rushed into anything.But the idea of offending his friend Kerabong and abandoning him was so unpleasant he couldn't budge.
"No, Bruno, no," he said, "I am his guest..."
"A guest," cried Bruno, "a guest who, instead of walking a mile, was forced to walk 700!"
"It doesn't matter!"
"Permit me to tell you that you are mistaken, my lord!" retorted Bruno. "This is the tenth time I'm telling you! Our misfortunes are not over yet, and I have a hunch that you may be even more unlucky than us!"
Will Bruno's premonition come true?The future will tell us.In any case, by notifying his master in advance, he had fulfilled his duty as a loyal servant, and since Van Metertain decided to continue this ridiculous and tiring journey, he could only follow it.
This seaside road runs along the coast of the Black Sea almost all the time.Sometimes it is a little further from the shore to avoid some obstacle on the ground, or to lead to some nearby village, but it is only a few versts at most.The last branches of the Caucasus Mountains, which run almost parallel to the road, just disappear behind the fringes of these deserted coasts.On the eastern horizon stands its snow-covered peak all year round, like a fishbone stretching to the sky with uneven fishbone.
At 1 o'clock in the afternoon, seven kilometers from the town of Laevskaya, they started to take the road along Zem Cove in order to go another eight kilometers to the village of Grancik.
It can be seen that these villages and towns are not far from each other.
On the seashores of the counties of the Black Sea, there are counties almost every other distance.But apart from these clusters of houses, sometimes not much larger than a village, the district is almost uninhabited, and the merchants are mostly coastal sailors.
This narrow strip between the foot of the mountains and the sea is a delight to the eye.The grounds were wooded, patches of oaks, lindens, walnuts, chestnuts, sycamores, with wild vines twining around the trees like vines in a tropical forest.The fields are full of night birds singing and flying, and nature is the only sower of these fertile fields.
About noon the travelers encountered a nomadic tribe of the Kalmuks, who were divided into "urus," each of which consisted of several "cortonas."These Cortonas are real floating villages, consisting of kibikas, or tents.Tents were set up wherever the chief wished, sometimes on the grasslands, sometimes in green valleys, and sometimes by the stream.It is known that these Kalmuks were of Mongol origin.They used to be very numerous in the Caucasus, but under the restrictions of the Russian government - if not oppression - they have migrated to Asia in large numbers.
The Kalmuks maintained their peculiar customs, and Van Mittern wrote in his diary that these men wore a pair of baggy trousers, a pair of Moroccan leather boots, and a "karat", which is a kind of A baggy coat, and a square hat made of a piece of cloth wrapped in sheepskin.The women's attire was similar to that of the men's, except for a belt missing and a hat showing braids of hair tied with colorful ribbons.The children were nearly naked, squatting by the fireside for warmth in winter, and sleeping in the hot ashes.
Small but strong, a good rider, quick and nimble, living on some batter boiled in water with slices of horse meat; but a ruthless drunkard, experienced thief, illiterate, superstitious and hopelessly superstitious Drug gamblers, this is the nomad who constantly runs around on the Caucasus steppe.The carriage drove through one of their Cortonas, hardly attracting their attention.They stopped what they were doing for a moment to look at the travelers, for at least one tourist was watching them with interest, and perhaps they had cast admiring glances at the passing carriages.But for Master Kairabang, fortunately, they did not stop there, and they were able to reach the next post without exchanging horses for the small stakes where the Kalmuk camped.
After rounding the Fjord of Zem, the carriage took a narrow track between the first ridges of the waterfront, but after passing the ridges it widened considerably and became easier to walk.
At 8 o'clock in the evening, we arrived at the village of Grancik.Here they changed horses, dined briefly, and set off again at nine o'clock.They traveled all night, and the sky was sometimes cloudy and sometimes full of stars.During the autumnal equinox, when the weather was bad, they reached the village of Beregovaya at 7 o'clock in the morning, the village of Koshuba at noon, the village of Dunginsk at 6 o'clock in the evening, and the village of Nana at midnight, amidst the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. In the village of Busk, the village of Grovinsk arrived at 8 o'clock in the morning on the third day, the village of Rakovsk at 1 o'clock, and the village of Dusha in two hours.
Ahme didn't want to complain.He was happy that the trip was safe and sound.But the safety and security annoyed Van Mettaine.His notebook was indeed filled with dry and boring geographical names, without any new impression, without any impression worth remembering!
At Duchat the carriage stopped for two hours, because the postmaster was going to fetch his horses which were grazing.
"Okay then," Kerabong said, "let's use this as an opportunity to eat dinner as comfortably as we can."
"Yes, supper," said Van Mettaine too.
"Let's have a good meal, if possible!" whispered Bruno, looking at his stomach.
"Perhaps this rest," continued the Dutchman, "will give us a little surprise that we have been missing from our journey! I think young Ahmey friend will allow us to get some air? . . . "
"Until the horses come," Ahme replied. "It's already the ninth day of this month!"
The Dusha Hotel is quite ordinary, built on the edge of a small river called Decimta, whose swift water flows down from a nearby ridge.
The village resembled the Cossack village "Stamisti", with a fence and a gate with a small square tower above it, guarded by sentries day and night.The houses are under the dense shade of trees, with high thatched roofs and clay-coated wooden walls. The residents living inside are not poor, if not rich.
In addition, the Cossacks have almost completely lost their original identity due to constant contact with the eastern Russian countryside.But they are still brave, nimble, and vigilant, and are excellent guards of the military lines entrusted to them, so whether in the pursuit of the long-rebellious mountain people, or in the jousting or competition on horseback, they are rightly called. Considered the best rider in the world.
The costumes of these local people have been confused with those of the Caucasus mountain people, but from their elegant and moving figures, they can also be recognized as coming from an excellent race, and it is not difficult to see these strong people under the tall fur hats. A powerful face with a bushy beard covering the cheeks.
When Lord Kerabong, Ahme and Van Mittaine sat down at the hotel table, the food served was brought from the nearby "Dukan": the porker, the butcher and the grocer often In this Dukan, the same industry.This dinner has a roast turkey, a cornmeal cake with cubes of milk cheese called "gachapri"; the indispensable traditional dish "brini", which is a fried egg pancake with yogurt; Then fish, a few bottles of strong beer, a few small bottles of vodka, the strong liquor that is consumed in unbelievable amounts among Russians.
Speaking of implementation, in a hotel in a remote village on the edge of the Black Sea, you couldn't ask for better food, and with a big appetite, the guests appreciated this dinner for changing the monotonous recipes during the trip.
After dinner, Ahme left the table, while Bruno and Nisib were still eating their share of turkey and traditional omelette.He went to the posthouse himself, as was customary, in order to urge the horses to pull the cart, and if necessary, he would pay ten times as much as the five kopecks per verst per horse that he had negotiated with the postmaster, in addition to the driver's tip. .
While waiting for him, Lord Kerabon and his friend Pham Mittern came to a verdant pavilion under which the river gurgled through moss-covered pillars.
The opportunity to indulge in sweet dreams at such a leisurely pace is truly unique, and the Orientals call it the "supreme enjoyment."
Also, the hookah becomes an essential addition to a well-digested meal.The two hookahs were brought from the carriage by the servants and given to the smokers, in perfect harmony in the warmth of passing the time that fate had bestowed on them.
The two hookahs were filled with tobacco in no time.Of course, it goes without saying that Master Kairabang followed his own habits.The usual pack is Persian East Beki tobacco, while Van Mittain's pack is his usual Latakia tobacco from Asia Minor.
Then the two pipes were lit.Two smokers lay next to each other on a bench.The long golden snake pipe, wrapped with gold wire, ended in a Baltic amber mouthpiece, which found its place in the lips of the two friends.
The aromatic smoke reaches the mouth after being subtly cooled by the water, and soon fills the air.
Lord Kerabon and Van Mittayn basked for a while in the bliss the hookah provided, far superior to pipes, cigars, or cigarettes, silently half-closing their eyes, Fluttering like duck down.
"Ah! This is pure pleasure!" Kerabong finally said. "I don't know of a better way to kill an hour than to have a heart-to-heart conversation with my own hookah!"
"There will be no controversy in such a conversation," replied Van Mettaine, "it will only make it more pleasant!"
"So," continued Kerabong, "the Turkish government taxing tobacco, increasing its price tenfold, is not very thoughtful! Because of this stupid idea, the use of hookahs is It will gradually disappear, and one day it will disappear!"
"It would be a pity indeed, my friend Kerabong!"
"As for me, friend Van Mettain, I have such a preference for tobacco that I would rather die than give it up. Yes! Not even die! I lived in the time of Amurat IV, the tyrant Want to enforce a ban on smoking with the death penalty, but people will only see my pipe drop from their lips after seeing my head and shoulders drop!"
"I think the same as you, friend Kerabong," said the Dutchman, taking two or three puffs.
"Don't smoke so fast, Van Mittern, please, don't smoke so fast! You make me feel like a glutton when you don't have time to taste the wonderful smoke!"
"You're always right, my friend Kerabon," replied Van Mettaine, who in no way wanted to disturb such mild tranquility with quarrels.
"There is always a point, my friend Van Mettain!"
"But honestly, my friend Kerabong, I'm surprised we tobacco wholesalers take so much pleasure out of our own wares!"
"Why is that?" Kerabong asked, leaning back every now and then.
"Because pastry chefs generally hate pastry, confectioners generally hate candy, and I think a tobacconist should be afraid..."
"Listen to me, Van Mettaine," replied Kerabon, "just one word, please listen!"
"Which sentence?"
"Have you ever heard of a wine merchant who despises the drink he sells?"
"of course not!"
"Well, a wine merchant or a tobacco merchant is quite the same thing."
"Yes!" replied the Dutchman, "I think your explanation is very good!"
"However," Kerabon went on, "since you seem to be arguing with me on this..."
"I don't want to argue with you, my friend Kerabon!" replied Van Metertain hastily.
"want!"
"No, I assure you!"
"After all, since you offered a somewhat provocative view of my interest in tobacco..."
"Please believe..."
"No...no!" Kerabong said excitedly, "I'll understand the insinuations..."
"I haven't said any insinuations," replied Van Mettaine, not quite sure why—perhaps the effect of the good dinner he had just had—beginning to grow impatient with this obstinacy.
"I said it," retorted Kerabong, "and now it's my turn to say something to you!"
"Then say it!"
"I don't understand, no! I don't understand how you dare to smoke Latakia in a hookah! Such a lack of taste is not a self-respecting smoker!"
"But I think I have every right to smoke it," replied van Mettaine, "since I prefer the tobacco of Asia Minor..."
"Asia Minor! Really! Asia Minor is nowhere near Persia when it comes to tobacco!"
"It depends!"
"Even if Dongbeiji tobacco has been washed twice, it still maintains a strong characteristic, which is many times better than Latakia tobacco!"
"I totally believe it!" cried the Dutchman. "Excessively strong characteristics, because it contains belladonna!"
"A moderate dose of belladonna will only improve the quality of the tobacco! …"
"For those who want to slowly poison themselves!" retorted Van Mettaine.
"It's not poison at all!"
"It's a poison, and the worst kind!"
"Am I dead because of this?" Kerabong yelled, his career at stake, and he swallowed the whole puff.
"No, but it will kill you!"
"Well, even when I'm dead," repeated Kerabong, his voice alarmingly strong, "I'm still arguing that East Koki tobacco is better than the dry grass called Latakia tobacco!"
"Such an absurdity must not be let go!" said Van Mettaine, also agitated.
"But it can pass!"
"How dare you say that to a man who has been buying tobacco for 20 years!"
"And how dare you say the opposite to a man who has been selling tobacco for 30 years!"
"20 years!"
"30 years!"
Entering a new phase of this debate, both disputants stood up at the same time.However, when they were gesticulating violently, the cigarette holder fell from their lips and the pipe fell to the ground.The two immediately picked them up while continuing to argue, to the point of launching a personal attack.
"Obviously, Van Mettaine," said Kerabon, "you're the most stubborn man I've ever known!"
"Not as good as you, Kerabon, not as good as you!"
"I!"
"You!" the Dutchman roared uncontrollably. "Look at the smoke of Latakia coming from my lips!"
"And you," retorted Kerabong, "just watch the smoke of East Beki Tobacco I spit out like a fragrant cloud!"
The two of them were gasping for breath right on their cigarette holders!Both blowing smoke into each other's faces!
"Just smell it," said one, "the smell of my tobacco!"
"Just smell it," repeated the other, "the smell of my tobacco!"
"I will force you to admit," said Van Mettaine at last, "that you know nothing when it comes to tobacco!"
"And you," Kerabong retorted, "you're worse than the worst smoker!"
This is two people on fire, and the voice is so loud that even the outside can hear it.They were obviously about to curse and drop bombs at each other like they would on a battlefield.
But then Ahme appeared.Bruno and Nisib also heard the voice and followed him in. The three stopped at the door of the pavilion.
"Look!" cried Ahme, laughing. "My Uncle Kerabon is smoking Mr. Van Mettain's hookah, and Mr. Van Mittern is smoking my Uncle Kerabon's!"
Both Nisib and Bruno agreed in unison.
Indeed, the two quarreling persons, picking up their holders and mistaking the pipe, neither noticed that while flaunting the fine qualities of their preferred tobacco, Kerabong was smoking Latakia, while Van Mettain smokes East Becky!
No doubt they couldn't help laughing too, so after all, they shook hands happily.As with two friends, no argument, even about a matter so serious, could possibly damage their friendship.
"The carriage is harnessed," Ahme said, "we should set off!"
"Let's go, then!" Kerabong said.
Van Mittern and he handed over the hookah, which had almost become a combat weapon, to Bruno and Nisib, and they were soon seated in the carriage.
But when getting into the car, Kerabong could not help but whisper to his friend:
"Now that you have tasted it, Van Mittern, admit that Tokoki is far better than Latakia!"
"I'd rather admit it!" replied the Dutchman, regretting that he had dared contradict his friend.
"Thank you, my friend Van Mettain," said Kerabon, touched by his condescension, "I will never forget your acknowledgment!"
"A firm handshake between two men cemented a new treaty of friendship that will never be broken.
At this time the car was pulled by horses.Mercedes-Benz on the road to the coast.
At eight o'clock in the evening, the borders of Abcasia were reached, and the travelers rested in the post, and slept until the next morning.
Notes:
Notes: