A Day in Adler

Every day I walk my two corgis, Suay and Crash, down the street and a new adventure begins. Every street is lined with hundreds of trees; Magnolias, Palms, and Evergreen trees stand side by side like they belong together. In the mornings, I stop in our corner produkti (market), dogs in tow, to buy the rare can of iced coffee.

"доброе утро" (Good morning), I say to the two young shopkeepers in their dark blue smocks. Keep in mind, I don't speak Russian.

"здороваться" (Hello), they chime back. "кофе сегодня?" (Coffee today?), they ask.

"да" (Yes), I answer.

"восемьдесят рублей, пожалуйста" (80 Rubles, please), the girl with the long black hair responds. I always bring exact change, which they toss in the cardboard box lid on the counter.

"спасибо" (Thank you), I reply to both of them.

"до свидания" (Goodbye), they croon back in unison.

My girls and I walk along the boardwalk, made of concrete pavers, which separates the rocky beach and the temporary wooden vendor stalls. Adults and children alike walk by me cooing "хорошие собаки", (nice dogs) or "маленьких собак", (small dogs). In early spring, these stalls seem to appear overnight and are filled with handmade wooden crafts, seashell wall clocks, or t-shirts that declare "Sochi...The City of the Future". As summer draws on, tourists from all over Russia flock to the seashores and test their abilities at the temporary shooting ranges, dart throwing games, take in a 9Dimensional short film, or take a picture with the local parrots, monkeys or the occasional sloth. Scattered between these stalls are dozens of stolovayas, Soviet-era cafeteria style eateries, clogged with stale cigarette smoke.  Here you can try an olivye salad, sweet or savory blinis, or the traditional meat barbequed on skewers over charcoal, shashlik.

I reach the park at the end of the road where the monument of King Triton riding a two-headed sea monster stands. The girls chase the dozens of over grown pigeons or play with their street-smart stray dog friends that have made the park their home. The Russian tourists pose for a picture with the immaculately manicured red oleander flowers as children drive their rented power jeeps, dodging all the pedestrians as they drive.

The girls and I head home, jumping over the huge holes in the sidewalk that appeared overnight or find ourselves walking in the street because entire sections of sidewalk are torn to bits. Even on the sidewalk I have to be on the lookout for cars, as it is not uncommon for drivers to use the sidewalk or the opposite side of the street if it means they don't have to wait. This chaotic scene is often intensified by the locals blaring their loud techno music or other music that can best be described as Russian Mariachi.

Returning back to our high-rise apartment building, I wonder if the electricity in our building is still on or if it has gone out without warning as it often does. This is usually answered as I walk through the main door and greet the concierge women that sit in a small office off the main hall watching their Russian soap operas. It is not until then that I know if we can take the lift, or if we will be required to walk the stairs to our tenth floor flat.

Even though I am a foreigner here, Sochi has become my community and my temporary home for the past year and every day is a new adventure.

The beach in Adler