From the airport we carried on with our Sunday. We came home to a much quieter apartment. As we began dinner, we heard a sudden pop, pop from the oven and found fuses blown all over the kitchen. We called Misha in San Francisco, the English speaking son of the owners of our apartment. He talked to his parents and before we knew it they appeared at our door with an electrician who immediately took charge. He pulled out the stove and went to work.
We love Claudia and Victor and love their apartment. We get the best stuff from them! Even on short notice, Claudia arrived with chocolates from Paris and a huge jar of her fabulous home grown raspberry jam,. They have a gigantic garden and orchard on their property 5 K to the west of us. We have enjoyed bushels of apples, crates of strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, zucchini and sweets of every kind.
Victor speaks some English. Claudia about as much as we speak Russian. We smile, laugh at each other's attempts and hug a lot.We did the usual game of charades, trying to talk to each other while Boris, the electrician worked away. We reached an impasse in conversation as our Russian failed us. Victor, with compassion offered, "No problem! Russian is very....very.... and he was stumped. He could not think of the word. A deep bass voice from the depth of the oven called out, "DIFFICULT!" Who would have guessed that the stern faced older working man in the overalls speaks perfect English! After a short conversation our problem was fixed and Boris was on his way. You never know!
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