The dacha

The dacha is a country residence.
Whilst the idea of a second home in the country is not unique to Russia the concept of the dacha is.
Only the very poorest of Moscow families do not have a dacha of some sort. If you fly into Moscow during daylight hours you will see patches of development; hundreds of little 'housing estates' in the forests around the city. This where most dachas are.

We used to have a dacha but because we spent so much time in the UK it was neglected and hardly used so it was sold. We spent some happy days there so I have the privelege of being able to tell about dacha life from direct experience.
The Communist government alloted plots of land (a commodity of which there is a great deal in Russia!) on which, for a nominal fee, Moscow residents could build a retreat from the city. The plots were 600 Msq and arranged in chequerboard communities cut into the forest. Access roads, potable water and electricity was delivered and the owners were free to build whatever they could afford, free of planning restrictions. The result is a range of sizes and shapes and varying quality of construction from small wooden huts to grand brick villas.
Ours was brick built with wooden extensions. It was spacious but primitive in it's accommodation. There was a wide enclosed veranda with toilet and shower room off, a large kitchen, a similar sized living area with two small bedrooms off. Upstairs was one big space, as yet undeveloped but with room for two more large bedrooms.
Non-drinking water was pumped from a well in the garden but it was always contaminated with fine sand and a previous attempt to make a plumbed bathing/toilet system just got clogged up. Waste went into a deep cess pit.
There was a brick chimney stack that climbed through the centre of the house with a wood burning stove in the living area. There were mature pine and birches in the garden as well as some apple, plum and currant bushes. Across the lane was the endless forest (although further development had started to erode this outlook.)
Our dacha community was about 200 km from Moscow and was on the site of some old peat diggings. This meant there was a lot of standing water surrounding us and standing water means MOSQUITOES :-( We were plagued with the little blighters but proper precautions made life bearable.
My most enduring memory was arriving there late one day in May and as we settled in to the evening we were treated to the song of a nightingale. I was enthralled. It started as an intermitent trill and occasional resonant piping and gradually developed into a full-throated glorious feast of varing scales, trills and sweet melodies. How poetic and romantic you think. Think again! You cannot switch a nightingale off! That bloody bird sat in the bushes close to our window and let rip at full volume all through the small hours of the night. I could have strangled it! Just as I started to drift off to sleep it would explode into song. It is now a nostalgic memory and I am now glad I experienced it.

Four years ago we went with friends to their dacha in the far North close to the Volga. This was not in a square community but in a straggling old village with straggling old Russian villagers still living there all year round. It was pointed out to me that one of these old wooden village houses could be bought for 500 pounds. I was not tempted!
We were treated to the song of the nightingale again but on this occasion nothing woke me - I was out of it on vodka :-)

Do svedanya,
Graham