What we love East coast of the Crimea for? Yalta vs. Feodosiya. Part 2
A now forward, reader! And I will prove to you that the true love in this world happens between people and the cities. Let the Pike perch who is densely laid in a deep pan of mountains cooks in own hot juice. Let crackle in hot and clean air as if aromatic candles, junipers of the New World with its multi-colored bays and it is disturbing the peeping bats in a high “Gothic“ grotto. Our way conducts on the East further away.
By a black crown of the master of ancient oceans - Kara - Dag, his reared basalt masses which is squeezed out by gigantic force from the subsoil of the first-born earth. By tiny bays of Ordzhonikidze with water of such pure lazuritovy blue that it seems, it also keeps the swimmer better than usual sea water. By Koktebel where Voloshin`s House cast ashore Noah`s Ark dreams of the wild deserted beach over the beach shumlivy, souvenir and vain.
To us there where mountains and the sea break off the titanic embraces to part as partners any more not in fight, and in dance. To part - and to present to people more scope, hot sand and smoothly going down shoal. In this threshold of Paradise the third thousand years Feodosiya dozes.
The sea loves Feodosiya. It licks it air streams, long and fresh as language of a young dog. In the summer in these winds there is no sea moisture, but there is an idea of the sea, a pure echo of its breath. Wide, with a smooth bend the Feodosiysky bay of a pomestiteln as if the bratina, is also also generous. Here dolphins come, we easily watch them directly from the coast in good years - we know that such year by all means will be good.
Bratina vsklin is poured by moisture of the most precious shades of a stone, gold and a peacock feather. To it moderately pure beaches and the pure embankment, tall pyramidal a poplar and thick gray-haired vetla, the semi-thrown recreation facilities and brisk new efficient cafes drop. And directly the railroad tries to keep step with them, and enthusiastic neophytes, having clung to windows of cars, marvel at the frolicing bathers on one side and at marble maidens on another. The maidens who as if got away from a portico of the temple of Artemis, but who acquired on the way of excess twenty kilograms of immortal beauty give provincial chic to a country house of the pre-revolutionary nouveau riche.
There is a lot of them there, country houses, and our way - wheelbarrows. Once built richly and tastelessly, they worried long, sometimes a terrible century and as if were cleared by time water. Also became monuments to the former ambitions which sank into a non-existence and just beautiful detail of a landscape - delight to eyes and edification to mind.
Feodosiya in an amicable way provintsialna. For certain there are street muggers. Local say what is, and we trust. Still local kosterit the power - for the same for what we kosterit the, and we trust doubly. But it is not it. And in what? Perhaps, in what is as well as possible had a rest to the quiet and thinking people with children here. And it is not important, you captured children with yourself or handed over before a trip to grandmothers. Here is where to go. And to eat - to have a good time, and just to take a walk in rather narrow, whimsically curling streets.
You will not be tired to admire an ingenuity of builders and provincial simplicity of town-planning decisions - all these lovely self-captures attached by the kitchenettes and primazanny konurka, balconies removed on columns directly over the sidewalk, and even the whole lodges with own yard squeezed to the general yard under a wall of the house of apartments on six and with a ladder directly from the street on the second floor. All this rolls in wild grapes and pletisty roses, nuts and an apricot. Here so speak, “apricot“, and complain that it to which year will not give rise, but do not cut down.
And generally, read Green. He, of course, wrote not about Feodosiya, more precisely not only about it. But this gloss and splash, both light, and spirit, and mood - nobody distinguished them more clearly and blagodarny, having managed to invest with words in almost untouched integrity. Come into its museum - the ship. As well as to Green, will never bore you to walk on these streets. The sizes of old part of the city just right to lay favourite routes, to wear out on them to steam of holiday Vietnamese and to throw off couple of excess kilograms from the tired-out legs.
If, of course, you manage to throw off them. Here so tasty feed! And it is very inexpensive, especially at our Moscow look. Only come off the beach and the embankment. Go further, be simpler, and there will be to you happiness, and there will be an economy.
For those who a feast of spirit put level with delights of flesh, in Feodosiya expanse at all. The museum of antiquities will meet you by modest marble lyova. They remember the world till Christmas and drowsily, habitually guard an entrance to halls where they look from - for glasses as through a veil of time, a head of goddesses and a figurine of girls, and the unknown priestess of Demetra asks the divine patroness for the daughter Demetriya, untimely deceased on fields of asfodely.
Ayvazovsky`s museum - the real palace where the great marine painter and the devoted patriot of the hometown lived and worked. It is good in itself - its balconies on a facade where eternally something is puttied and plaster, its “Greek“ sculptures with peeled as if burned under the sun of the embankment, noses. And especially will not disappoint him contents. (Though to admit, a special collection - portraits and religious plots are not for the faint-hearted.)
By all means reach the Quarantine hill. There goes the edinichka bus from the central market and bus station to city hospital. Here everything began, in this small bay the Greek vessels aspired. And then proceeded by efforts of Italians, efforts of Turks. Here the remains of the Genoa fortress on a centuries-old habit to guard duty protect a scattering of old Armenian churches. Good such remains, are where to polazat and what to look at!
Nearby one more historical hill - Mitridat. Not Kerch, without fragment of a marble capital at top, but with the curve small streets laid, apparently, in antiquity, and with precisely antique sewerage.
And with the smallest area in the world. It is called Gushing - find it if you will be able. And the most dashing walkers will reach a beacon. For a long time it protects the left flank of Feodosiya if to look from the sea, - in a pandanus to oil depot, this gain of the present, on the right flank. Giving desperate gardeners on a brow of the waterless hill. Concrete weapon emplacements in which it feel eternally ill at ease from cold and the pressing silence.
And here it, a beacon, its huge old tulovo in old - prestar a pear garden. And the ringing heat. And break which falls in the sea so resolutely and irrevocably as if directly here, under your legs the earth forever terminates.
From here Feodosiya seems the bluish cloud materialized by the beat of the sea. But this city was created not by(with) the sea. People constructed it for us, people. The sea just fell in love with it - once and for all. Just as we.