7.6.10
The semi final match featuring Germany and Spain takes place this evening. I have been rooting for Germany since the beginning of the world cup, and was happy to watch them handle England and Argentina so decisively, winning 4-2 (officially 4-1) and 4-0 respectively. Spain hasn't been nearly as impressive. They won their past two matches 1-0, with the same forward scoring both goals, in an albeit rather impressive fashion.
Four years ago Germany came off a 2-1 win against Argentina only to lose a closely fought match to Italy in the semi-finals. Italy deserved to win then, but this time the defending champions didn't make it out of group play, and Germany's victory is in much closer reach. I haven't read the tabloids, but I'd say they're the strong favorites for tonight, if not also for the final match against Holland, who beat Uraguay yesterday 3-2. I only saw the first half of that match, then I went to sleep.

I have a day off today. The first round of students left yesterday, and I stayed here to await the arrival of the next batch tomorrow. It was tough parting with some of my students. Strange, because, except for two or three out of eleven, I didn't think they were really good students. I guess I had developed relationships other than teacher-student. In a way I often become friends with some of my students, and only for some of them am I also a teacher.
I went for a walk this morning. I left the camp via the beach entrance, and headed East. I rolled up my jeans to cross a small river that flowes into the Black Sea, and walked further along the beach where participants of other camps were swimming and relaxing. Among others, there's a camp for athletes, a place where athletes of many disciplines can recover and cross train. I passed a trampoline where a young boy was jumping, flipping and twisting in every which way - a future gymnist I suppose. I reached the cliffs at the East end of the beach and stopped to shop at the small market where they were selling souvenirs and local fruit. I bought a kilogram of apples and three peaches, then started climbing the stairs which lead through a small forest up the cliffs.
The guard at the camp had said I should go to the end of the village at the top of the stairs, and walk through the forest to see some nice views of the sea. (I'm not sure that's exactly what he said, but having found the forest and seen some views, I figure that might be what he suggested.) I walked down a path in the forest. A middle aged woman was following me. Where were she and I going? I think she knew. I reached a thin beach which, like the camp's beach, didn't have as much fine sand as large gravel. I'm glad I wasn't barefoot. I walked along the beach, climbing over boulders here and there, passing people lying on towels and swimming in the shallow sea.
I found a big rock and sat down to look around. To my left were two women basking in the weak sunshine of a partly cloudy morning, one of them old, the other young. Maybe they were mother and daughter. The mother had long since given up her fight against weight gain. With a bathing suit suffocating under folds of lard, she was well on her way to the obesity typical of some older-aged Russian women. In contrast, the daughter was, as many young Russian women are, tall and slender.
A group of three people took a spot on the beach to my right. They were a man, a woman, and a boy of about nine or ten years. They might have been Armenian, but I'm a bad judge. The adults must have been either old parents, or young grandparents. The woman's face had got its first wrinkels, but she swam with grace and energy. The father was sitting on a large rock the lower part of which was being washed by small waves. He smiled as he watched the boy put on some flippers and waddle into the sea with a mask and snorkel in hand. The woman escorted him.
Far out at sea I could see three ships. To the west and disappearing over the horizon there was what might have been a cargo ship or an oil tanker. The other two, to the east and not moving anywhere, looked like military vessels. Closer to the beach, there were a few speed boats racing about.
I got up and went back the way I had come. I wondered through the forest a bit, coming to a camp ground and, further along, some cottages. Walking through the forest I couldn't help but remember the statistics on encephalitis-born ticks. There is supposedly an incurable strain prominent throughout southern Europe and Russia, ranging from the Perinnes in France through the Black Forest and the baltic regions all the way to Vladivostok. I thought about a few disabled people I had crossed since coming to Russia who were handicapped in a way that I had never seen before. Their movements are jerky. They walk as though they are struggling through a swamp, lifting one leg after the other out of a foot of thick mud. Someone told me that their disability comes from having drunk too much alcohol, but I would sooner believe that they were the unfortunate victoms of a really sick tick.
I consoled myself with a statistical calculation. First, I was walking on a well tread path, and wasn't about to take any short cuts. Second, I was wearing jeans, and there were many people walking the same way as I who were wearing shorts and swim suits - surely the ticks would sooner find them than me. Or is it the case that my American blood has such an irrisistable odor that they jump from the branches in the hopes of getting a small taste? (I honestly don't think that ticks jump from branches. As far as my blood is concerned, it often strikes me that in the company of Russians, mosquitoes seem to prefer me over them.) In the end, I figured the probability of getting a tick was on the same order as being struck by a mediorite. To be fair, I don't know that probability, but it hasn't happened yet, so I figure it's pretty small.
Reading this, do you wonder how I leave the house in the morning? Strange that I made it all the way over here somehow. что занесло меня сюда?
I returned back to the camp and started writing this entry. What am I going to do with the rest of my free day? I might take a swim in the Black Sea this evening, followed by a beer with salad and shashlick at a local cafe. Then I'll watch a football match. I hope Klose scores a goal or two. This is probably his last world cup, and he's scored so many goals for Germany already, he might break some sort of record.