Dressed in a blue wool uniform crowned in a black fur hat, Snezhana Golubeva’s son pinched his lips as he slowly turned a curved sword in a leafy outdoor village in Moscow.
In a meadow nearby, Golubeva was wandering through tall grass picking wildflowers for herbal remedies.
She did not expect to spend the holidays in an outdoor village in Moscow. But border closures caused by the coronavirus pandemic have left her and many other Russians struggling to find opportunities, and drive a rebirth of Russian pastimes.
Snezhana Golubeva and her son pass twice a week to cossack-led workshops, which once guarded the southern borders of Tsarist Russia Photo: AFP / Dimitar DILKOFF
“I usually spend with my son in Greece or Italy for a week or two or even a month,” said Golubeva, a 40-year-old beautician.
“This summer we come here to be devotees and participate in all activities here.”
Instead of loitering on European beaches, TheMoscovites who have fled to the summer apartments watch Soviet-era videos and notice the healing houses of wild plants.
Golubeva and his 14-year-old son ran Cossack workshops twice a week, which once protected the southern borders of Tsarist Russia in Alyaukhovo, east of Moscow.
Outdoor activities are a Tradition of the Soviet era, when projectionists brought the newest inventions to remote collective farms Photo: AFP / Dimitar DILKOFF
On a recent weekend, a 69-year-old army officer, Nikolai Dolgopol, trained Cossack songs and sword fights.
“In the absence of Thailand or Turkey, many other young people come here to know the classic values they lacked,” he said.
When Golubeva’s son learned to wield a Cossack sword, she went to the meadows for a guided walk in nature with a woman.
Instead of lazing on European beaches, Muscovites who fled to summer homes are watching Soviet-era films and learning about the healing properties of wild plants Photo: AFP / Dimitar DILKOFF
Marina Vasilyeva, who worked in the Soviet Union’s transmission governing body, shared recommendations on herbal remedies for the immune system.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Ksenia Akimova, a 14-year-old student holding a huge cluster of plants.
“Instead of going to Montenegro, they will inform me of the traditions of our ancestors.”
“Without Thailand or Turkey, many other young people come here to know the classic values they lacked,” says Nikolai Dolgopol Photo: AFP / Dimitar DILKOFF
A strict blockade of the coronavirus in March led to an exodus from the capital to the huts. Almost part of the Russians own houses of now known as dacha, which were attributed to Soviet times.
Those who are in no hurry to rent, looking for summer houses near Moscow more than quintupled in April, according to assets seek Cian.ru.
The apartments have already served as a refuge. During the economic crisis that followed the cave of the Soviet Union, many families were developing food in dacha orchards.
In the existing crisis, more than a portion of respondents conducted in April through the online page Tutu.ru said dachas were “the most productive way” to escape the pandemic.
This year, families will most likely send their children to summer camps, as 83% ofMoscovites said young people would remain in their homes, according to the government’s virus data website.
The big move to the city has led to a triple increase in dangling chair sales, while sales of inflatable pools, hammocks and reclining chairs have doubled, according to the classifieds Avito.ru.
On a Saturday night, the citizens of the country house in Yermolino, a village 50 kilometres from Moscow, sat in classic movie seats on the lawn in front of a giant screen.
Projectionist Alexander Mamayev, who has assembled 1,500 film reels from the local council, uses old projectors to organize screenings.
Despite the mosquitoes, the projections are a success, Mamayev, a 32-year-old lawyer.
Since no one went on vacation, “our audience doubled,” he said. “Cinema is a way of traveling.”
Outdoor activities are a Soviet-era tradition, he said, when projectionists brought the newer versions to remote collective farms.
Mathematician Nikolai Moshchevitin and his daughter were among the observers of the ancient Soviet cult The Mystery of the Third Planet, a 1981 animation that tells the story of an expedition through the area to locate new animals for the Moscow Zoo.
With meetings in Europe and China suspended, the 53-year-old told AFP that the projections were “a smart way to do it in my childhood.”