For those who want to do a mountainy, tree stuffed getaway, but don’t want to deal with oblivious boaters or hikers elbowing their way up the rapidly balding overlook to Burabay Lake, choose a camp located away from the lake. The same friend who invited us the first time, organized a schools-out-hurrah-celebration at the Aspen Eco Hotel. Technically, the hotel is located in an unpronounceable city called Shchuchinsk (Shoot-chins-k) but we’ll just say Burabay. More a glamp site than hotel, the deciduous forest surrounds the property and there’s a natural spring pond, good for swimming and paddle boarding. Any sane lodging developer in the post-soviet region would include a sauna paired with a giant galvanized, wood burning hot tub, which it did. Their individual dome rooms come with loft beds, ac, bathrooms and showers, and a hot tub. I like glamping and I am very good at it.
My friend and her family trained up, while Margo and I chose to drive this time. (Note to train riders: passports are required for all passengers and they DO check.) The dog, Mark, and Deets were invited but bailed last minute, so instead, our entire back seat and trunk was filled with multiple kilos of lamb chops, chicken, and beef, sagging bags of vegetables, crates of strawberries and apricots, watermelons, several different types of junk food accouterment, and champagne. I one hundred percent did not think we would eat all it the short time we had, but determined minds and stomachs prevailed. Between relaxing, practicing handstands, playing tag, swimming, and splashing all of the water from the hot tubs from said handstands, tags, and attempts to swim, the kids ate nearly everything.
After the sun went down the site manager set up a movie screen and showed the guests Russian dubbed “Runaway Bride”. Not having thought about Richard Gere in a very long time, my friends, fellow glampers and I discussed Gere movies. As a weird child, I watched “Pretty Woman” countless times. I liked that Vivian knew car stats and had big feet and how she Arsenio Hall fit pumped during the polo match. I know that movie didn’t age well, but I loved how Edward got over his stupid pride, figured out what a bad-AMF Viv was, and went to get her. In the meantime, the others unanimously said Gere’s best movie was “Hachi: A Dog’s Tale” and were equally shocked that I never heard of this movie. They immediately set to educating me on the depth of the movie’s far superior love story between a man and his dog. Fair enough.
Stars were out, the air chilled to hoodie perfection, and the kids fell asleep before we did, so the adults went for a sauna - a wild 10pm activity for someone who loves a 9pm bedtime. The next morning we ate an English breakfast at the outrageously early 9am hour (they said breakfast was normally between 10-12) and had enough time to swim and paddle board before driving back home on the shockingly smooth spacious highway with a 130kph speed limit. My only regret for the weekend was stopping at a gas station outhouse with so many flies they could have eaten my carcass cartoon style if I passed out from the quantity and smell and fell through the broken, rusted floor. Margo would have had to drive the car home instead, and I’m sure she would not have liked that.
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