Travel Reference
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much earlier than us and went to bed later. It was obvious that they were not only
working harder than us but had more energy. It was incredible. We were definitely
being spoilt to the core.
It was really quite sad when the tenth day came around and the doctor gave me
the all clear to leave; we no longer had an excuse to call Babushkina home.
Our last night was a fitting end. Thirty of our most treasured friends in Babushk-
ina came around for a party. With her collection of old Russian records, Tatyana
was DJ and all the babushkas worked together to put on a feast fit for a king. The
men supplied the vodka.
We ate on one long table and raised our glasses in toast to Baba Galya, Tatyana,
Lena, Babushkina as a whole, and of course the Australians. Our Russian had im-
proved and my attempted thank you speech was greeted with barrels of laughter.
They loved the idea that we considered Babushkina 'paradise' and that Baba Galya
was our queen. I hoped they understood that we really meant it.
For a few euphoric hours we danced into the night. Chris and I took turns at
dancing with all the babushkas, including Galya. The most memorable song had
the repetitive lyrics of: 'Babushka! Babushka Babushka! Babushka!'
The next morning we rose to have our last Baba Galya breakfast. Later, we
bundled into a Lada for the drive to Vologda. We had long decided that frostbite
had ended our cycling for the year. Although we had only covered 900 kilometres
(a far cry from the progress Chris had hoped for), the onset of winter made further
travel impossible. Our plan was to leave the bikes in Galya's shed and return in
three months when spring made cycling feasible. I was more than happy to forget
the painful reality of cycling for a while and keep my toes warm.
After repeating final goodbyes and hugging our three hosts, we lurched away
and I watched the teary-eyed babushkas through the foggy window.
Within ten minutes we had passed into the forest and left the cluttered collection
of houses behind.
A sign that read 'Welcome to Babushkina' caught my eye.
I grinned to myself; it really couldn't have been a more aptly named village.
