Russia: Vacation on the Volga

For those in search of what travel writers call the truly unforgettable vacation, Moscow’s Literaturnaya Gazeta had the perfect answer: a trip for “rest and relaxation” down the Volga in the time of the inventarizatsia, or inventory taking, as the season ends and the Volga excursion boats batten down for the winter. But as Writer Natalia Ilyina made clear, the adventure is not for the weak or querulous.

First Day. The night, as she puts it, was “rather cool because the stewardess had brought us very damp bedding. But by morning it is absolutely dry.” All over the ship, stewardesses and sailors are busily rolling up carpets and unscrewing light bulbs, “because everything has to be accounted for and prepared for inventory.” When lunchtime comes round, the seven first-class passengers are cheered to find that the menu offers a sumptuous variety of dishes—”and opposite each was the word Nyet.” A few unreasonable passengers complain, but they are soon silenced by Waitress Raechka, who tells them they can have pea soup and goulash and like it.

Second Day. “For some reason, it’s become cold in the cabin.” Natalia’s husband gets lumbago. At lunchtime, Raechka explains that there are no plates for the passengers; they are being counted and locked away.

Third Day. One passenger threatens revolt, but a lady doctor from Leningrad points out: “We have only three more days to rest and we should be brave.” Raechka urges them to try the caviar, since it has been on the boat “for many trips and may dry up completely” if no one eats it.

Fourth Day. The passengers are locked out of the dining room because Raechka has just put clean covers on all the chairs—for next season. One of the passengers, an elderly geologist named Viktor Ivanovich, protests, but Raechka counsels sweetly: “No hysterics, Pop. Be reasonable.” Later on Viktor Ivanovich has a heart attack.

Fifth Day. One passenger eats some food they have been able to buy at a brief stopover in Kazan. An old woman is running a temperature, “obviously grippe.” The engineer explains why it’s so cold in the cabins: insufficient fuel. “It’s the last trip.”

Sixth Day. Passengers gnaw crusts in their cabins. Stewardesses pass up and down jingling keys and looking for more things to inventory. “They may come for our bedding at any moment, but we’ve decided to fight,” reports Author Ilyina. “I begin to see things: I see the stewardess’ eye at the keyhole, and the handle begins slowly, slowly to move.” The passengers finally track down Raechka, who graciously gives them the last of the dry caviar. Finally the boat docks and the passengers totter off —Viktor Ivanovich and several others head for clinics—while the stewardesses inventory bed sheets.

One passenger wrote the Minister of the River Fleet: “Everywhere we saw posters urging the personnel to fight for better service for passengers. Perhaps they’ll stop fighting and simply start behaving in an ordinary, human manner toward us, giving us for our money (pardon this detail) what we are legally entitled to!” But as wise old Viktor Ivanovich says: “Alas, it’s this way not only on boats.”