Tanja’s birthday

It’s raining cats and dogs. Nature, thirsty for water, says thank you. The tourists on the beach have gone home again and things have quietened down. Most of Luda’s guests have also packed their bags. We are all happy. We can finally take a deep breath. At 13 degrees, the nights are suddenly fresh and we slip into our Fjällräven sleeping bags for the first time on this stage. Because my wounds are slow to heal, we still have to stay with Luda. It’s difficult for me to tell Tanja this, but it makes no sense to set off with this inflammation. We actually wanted to spend her birthday somewhere nicer, but as traveling proves once again, you can rarely stick to your plans. Tanja is also in Odessa today, on her birthday, and I’m sitting in front of the laptop in our room again. I look out onto the small balcony surrounded by ripe vines. Dark clouds pass by and empty again and again. It has become really uncomfortable. Is this already fall? As I sit there thinking about the course of our journey so far, Tanja’s birthday comes to mind. I would have loved to take her to a good restaurant or do something else nice with her and now we’re stuck here. What can I do to make her happy? My gaze wanders through our dusty, run-down accommodation. “Yes, that’s it!” I shout quietly and make my way to Luda. “Do you have a vacuum cleaner?” “Yes. What do you want to do?” “It’s Tanja’s birthday today. I’d like to clean our rooms,” I reply with a laugh. Only minutes later, I am vacuuming the ancient dirt from the windowsills so that the hose of the vacuum cleaner rattles. Armed with the pipe, I declare war on all insects, sucking cobwebs out of corners and flies from windows. The carpet and the cracks under the bed are also on. Then Luda gives me a bucket. I mix up a strong soapy solution and mop the steel stairs, the balcony and the entire room. Finally, I reupholster our beds and tighten the mosquito net. “Well, it’s looking pretty good,” I say after a few hours, satisfied with my work. I sit down in my folding chair again and think about it. Something is still missing, I think. Then I set off to visit the small village store. It’s not easy to find something to buy for a birthday child here. Above all, something that you don’t have to stuff into your saddlebags and lug around. After looking around for a while, I buy a pad of paper, a bottle of dessert wine and a few bars of chocolate.

On the way back, I zap a few flowers from a bush hanging over the fence. In the room, I tear the paper out of the pad and write declarations of love on the pieces of paper. Then I place a rose that Luda gave me for Tanja on the first step of our staircase and put one of the notes underneath. I place the wine bottle on the second step and a chocolate with a note on each one.

When she returns from Odessa in the evening, she is actually delighted with the room and the small gifts on the stairs. “Now you can stand it here. It’s strange how much the atmosphere changes when a room is cleaned. It’s become really cozy,” she says.

Luda, Helena and Valentina also have a surprise for Tanja. You cut a delicious chocolate cake and present her with a large box of chocolates. Now, after seven days, we are slowly becoming part of the family again. Even if it is a modest celebration, Tanja will never forget this extraordinary day.

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