Chapter 16: Mike and Elizaveta’s Excellent Adventure, Part IX

June 21, 1985, Geneva, Switzerland

We had left Valencia early on Friday morning, first retracing our route to Port Bou, and then boarding a TGV to retrace the route to Lyon. In Lyon, we had boarded a train for Geneva, happily finding an empty eight-seat compartment which let us sit together. Nobody had joined us before the train departed, and we had very much enjoyed the wonderful scenery during the two-hour trip.

When we arrived, we passed through passport control, gaining another new entry stamp, then exchanged currency. Once we had our Swiss francs, we consulted a map, then walked about ten minutes to our hostel on Rue Rothschild. We checked in and went to our room, which contained three bunk beds and had a private bathroom. We stored our things, then left the hostel to walk to a casual restaurant which the clerk at the desk had suggested.

When we arrived, it took about fifteen minutes to be seated. The waiter suggested a white wine if we planned to have fondue, which we did. We chose a relatively inexpensive white, then looked over the menu, which had «Fondue isch guet und git e gueti Luune» printed at the top. Pete gave us a rough translation from the Swiss German.

“‘Fondue is good and creates a good mood’,” he said.

“I think we have to go for ‘Fondue Suisse’,” Sandy suggested. “It appears to be one of the most traditional.”

“Sounds good to me,” Clarissa said. “It appears to come with some sides - olives and some kind of pickles. I think I’m going to order a sausage of some kind.”

That was the consensus all around, and when the waiter returned with two bottles of white wine, we placed our order - one communal pot with ‘Fondue Suisse’ which was a mix of Gruyère and Fribourg vacherin, the sides Clarissa had mentioned, and individual sausage selections for each of us.

“Anyone here germophobic?” Sandy asked.

We all shook our heads.

“Last I checked, lesbianism isn’t a communicable disease,” I chuckled.

“Afraid your sexy wife might switch teams, Petrovich?” Clarissa teased.

“Nah, I have what she wants!” I said smugly, causing the others to laugh.

“You’re such a pig!” Clarissa replied.

“But he DOES have what I want!” Elizaveta declared causing more laughter.

“So, then, everyone is OK if we just use the long forks to dip and eat?”

There were nods all around and we began eating. The fondue was awesome, and I could easily fill up on it, so I made sure to eat my sausage early in the meal so I wouldn’t run out of room. Dessert was certainly out because I wasn’t about to try to save room for it. About halfway through the meal, we mapped out our plans for Saturday and Sunday.

“Nobody wants to see any of the Reformation museums or churches, right?” Abby asked.

“I had WAY too much Calvinism to deal with back home,” I said. “Staying as far away as possible from Jean Calvin, his heirs, and his minions is OK with me!”

“And everyone agrees we want to take the cable car up Mont Salève on Sunday, right?”

“I really want the boat ride on Lake Geneva,” Elizaveta said.

“That works for tomorrow afternoon,” Abby said. “We can visit the Palais des Nations and Conservatoire et Jardin botaniques de la Ville de Genève in the morning, then take the boat ride. We’ll get good views of the Jet d’Eau fountain from several places.”

“If nobody minds, I’d like to go to Cathédrale de l’Exaltation de la Sainte Croix on Sunday morning. We could go to Mont Salève in the afternoon.”

“I take it that’s a Russian Orthodox Church?” Abby asked.

“Yes. I checked on churches in all the cities, and it won’t really interfere with anything, and obviously, the four of you can do whatever you want while Elizaveta and I are in church.”

“I’m cool with that,” Pete said.

“Me, too,” Clarissa said.

I could tell from her eyes she really wanted to go to church with us, but she couldn’t say so without talking with Abby privately, if that was even wise.

“So, then Mont Salève in the afternoon, and then explore with any remaining time?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sandy said.

“All of that sounds good to me,” Pete said. “What time is our train on Monday?”

“Just before 6:00am,” Abby said. “We could leave later, but the early departure gives us the most leeway if there are any delays. We’ll arrive in Rome sometime late in the afternoon, so we can check-in at the hostel, have a nice dinner, and see some of the city.”

“How do we get to Mont Salève?” Pete asked.

“By bus,” Abby replied. “And it leaves from close to the hostel.”

When we finished our meal, we ordered coffee, and when we’d drunk it, we paid the bill, then headed out to walk along the lake. Each couple walked hand-in-hand with a bit of distance between us, which allowed for some private conversation.

“Sorry about losing the private room because we changed our plans,” I said.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you!” Elizaveta replied mirthfully.

“And you didn’t object! You didn’t put on your panties under your nightgown the last night in Amsterdam!”

“I forgot!” Elizaveta replied primly.

I laughed softly, “Right. ‘Forgot’! Sure! Are you going to forget them again tonight?”

“Maybe...”

“You certainly enjoyed the chocolate sauce yesterday!”

“I did! But you know what? I actually like how you taste a lot better.”

“And I very much like how you taste!”

“My period will probably start next weekend, so either Venice or Athens.”

“It comes with the territory,” I replied. “We want to have kids, but not yet.”

“True.”

“Are you enjoying our vacation so far?”

“Absolutely! I’m happy Abby has backed off somewhat.”

“Clarissa spoke to her, but I don’t know what was said because I have to respect their privacy. But I don’t know if the issue is settled or if it’s just tamped down. I just wish I knew what Abby’s problem was.”

“Do you think Clarissa knows?” Elizaveta asked.

“I have no idea, and honestly, if we can just finish the trip in peace, I’d be very happy. Whatever it is can be dealt with at home, if there’s actually anything to deal with.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think Abby was worried that you, or I, or both of us, would be a drag because we’re, in her mind, hyper-religious. I suspect she’s used to dealing with people like Reverend Saddler, and the idea that someone could be sincerely religious and tolerant at the same time isn’t something she actually considered.”

“But you hung out a lot back home, right?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t like we were together twenty-four hours a day. Clarissa and I spent lots and lots of time together, but I usually only saw Abby when we had double or triple dates. I honestly think she thought we were going to cramp her style.”

“I think it had to be me, really,” Elizaveta said. “She agreed to go when they thought you and Lara were going to get together, right?”

“Yes, and I suppose that’s possible, but there hasn’t been anything more than a few blushing moments.”

“Are you happy with how I’m handling everything?”

“Very! Honestly, I’ve had many of the same reactions; I just haven’t shown them. Had I come here when I was your age, I wouldn’t have handled it nearly as well as you’re handling it!”

“I know I have you to protect me!”

“Me Og! Big caveman! Protect little girl!”

Elizaveta laughed and kissed my cheek.

“Did Clarissa want to come to church with us?”

“I think so, but I’m not sure that’s going to fly with Abby.”

Eventually, we made our way back to the hostel and everyone turned in for the night.

June 23, 1985, Geneva, Switzerland

On Sunday morning Elizaveta and I headed to church, though only for the Divine Liturgy. We’d all enjoyed our leisurely Saturday with the boat ride on Lake Geneva and a casual stroll around the botanical gardens, plus a few other sights. We’d had two wonderful meals, in addition to a light breakfast provided by the hostel.

In traditional Russian fashion, as in a good number of Russian Orthodox churches, they’d done Vespers and Matins the evening before as the ‘All-Night Vigil’. We arrived early for the Divine Liturgy, and were greeted in Russian by an usher, and after a brief explanation of who we were, he sent someone to get the priest, who introduced himself as Father Grigori Tzvetkov.

It turned out both Elizaveta and I spoke better Russian than the priest spoke English, and after a brief conversation, which included conveying Vladyka ARKADY’s intent to ordain me when we returned home, he invited us to receive Eucharist. We’d skipped breakfast on that possibility, so we accepted. He asked us to stay for lunch afterwards, which we also accepted, as we’d warned our friends that was likely to happen. He left, and Elizaveta and I went to the nave to find a place to stand.

I hadn’t been to a Divine Liturgy done completely in Church Slavonic and Russian for more than eight years, but the responses came naturally for me. Elizaveta struggled a bit, as Saint Michael the Archangel hadn’t used Church Slavonic in over twenty years. But the pattern of the Divine Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom had changed very little from when it was first celebrated in Constantinople during the 4th century.

It felt good to be in church, and receiving the Eucharist after having missed for several weeks reminded me just how much it sustained me. When the liturgy concluded, we joined the congregation for lunch, and I spoke Russian for the longest sustained set of conversations I’d had since I was about ten. When we finished eating, we bade everyone ‘goodbye’ and then headed back to the hostel to meet the others.

We caught the bus to Mont Salève near the hostel and about thirty minutes after we’d departed, we arrived at the Téléphérique du Salève, the cable cars which would take us to the Salève ridge. We had, once again, encountered passport control officers because we had passed into France, and once we were through, we bought our tickets. We then boarded a large car which looked as if it could hold about fifty people. It was about half-full when we boarded, and nearly at capacity when the doors were closed a few minutes later and we began our near-vertical ascent.

At the summit, we were afforded a breathtaking view of Mont Blanc, worthy of several pictures by both Abby and Elizaveta. The view of Geneva was equally gorgeous, and the girls snapped more pictures. Once they put their cameras away, we took a walk to see the valley where dairy cows grazed, walked through a small village, and then made our way back to the cable car for the descent back to the base of the mountain.

We took the bus back to Geneva, getting off in the Les Tranchées neighborhood, near the Orthodox Church, and walked along cobblestone streets, taking in the sights, which included the St. Pierre Cathedral, the home church of Jean Calvin, though we didn’t go in. We found a nice restaurant for dinner, had ice cream for dessert, and then headed back to the hostel to get a good night’s sleep before our trip to Rome. On the way, we saw a newspaper headline about an Air India flight which had disappeared over the Atlantic Ocean, resulting in the loss of over three hundred lives.

June 24, 1985, Rome, Italy

The most efficient route, based on the schedules we had, took us first to Bern where we changed trains for Milan. We changed trains again in Milan, and from there, we watched the Italian countryside roll by until we arrived in Rome late in the afternoon. We exchanged currency, then spoke to a young woman in an information booth to find out how to get to our hostel. With her directions, we found the bus which would take us through the city to Via Carlo Alberto. Fifteen stops later, we exited the bus and walked to the Blue Hostel.

We checked in, stashed our backpacks in our rooms, which were very much like hotel rooms, then headed out into the warm Roman afternoon. We were very close to the Colosseum, the Forum, and the Circus Maximus, so we followed the map in our guidebook through the Parco del Colle Oppio until we came to the ‘Flavian Amphitheatre’.

“Wow!” Pete said when the building came into full view.

“Think we could build a public building that would last two thousand years?” I asked.

“Hell, no!” he replied, shaking his head.

We spent two hours simply wandering around the area, viewing many ancient buildings and monuments, including the Arch of Constantine, then made our way back towards the hostel. We’d spotted a small bistro on our way to the Colosseum, and had decided to have dinner there. The menu had so many options we could have eaten there for two months and not repeated a meal. It was tough to decide between all the dishes, but eventually, we all made our selections. The food was awesome, and after we ate, we headed to the departure point for an evening walking and bus tour of the city.

The tour began at the Trevi fountain at sunset, and all of us tossed in small coins.

“Making a wish, Petrovich?” Clarissa asked.

“World peace?” I chuckled.

“Good luck with that!”

“Yeah, exactly.”

From the fountain, we walked towards Piazza della Rotonda where we saw the Pantheon, an ancient Roman temple which had been turned into a church. From there, we walked to Piazza Navona where we could view Bernini’s Fountain of the Four Rivers. After we took numerous pictures. we boarded a bus which took us first to Castel Sant’Angelo, then to St. Peter’s Square, Tiberina Island, and The Mouth of Truth. The tour completed with stops at the Circus Maximus, the Palatine Hill, and the Colosseum.

“That was whirlwind!” Sandy said when we got off the bus and began walking back to the hostel.

“Tomorrow is going to be busy with the Sistine Chapel, the Spanish Steps, Piazza del Popolo, and the Capitoline Museums,” Abby said.

“I can’t believe how much we’re cramming into our days on this trip!” Sandy said.

“Given we have at least five years before we can even go on any kind of vacation, I’d say it’s necessary,” Clarissa said. “We may never have another chance like this. Mike’s going to have kids by then, and you’ll probably be about ready to have your first.”

“Ugh,” Sandy replied. “I don’t even want to think about that! Medical school and Residency will be stressful enough without adding in kids!”

“But making them is excellent stress relief, right?” Pete asked with a smirk.

“And she’s going to have plenty of stress to work off!” I chuckled.

“We all will,” Clarissa said.

When we arrived back at the hostel, we said ‘goodnight’ and each couple went to their room. Elizaveta and I quickly did our bedtime routine and got into bed naked. Elizaveta snuggled close and I put my arm around her.

“So Sandy uses sex to relieve stress?” Elizaveta asked.

“Yes. That started during Sophomore year.”

“Pete?”

“No, a different guy,” I replied.

“It was you,” Elizaveta said. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Kitten, please don’t go there. Sandy is a friend, and you being suspicious of her makes that difficult. We discussed this when we talked about Katy Malenkov a few days ago.”

“We did, but can’t you understand how I feel?”

“I do, but I really don’t think going round-and-round on this is helping our relationship at all.”

She sighed deeply, “I’m sorry, I just ... I guess I’m still struggling with the whole thing. Can I ask what Tasha said about you having slept with other girls?”

“She didn’t actually make an issue of Jocelyn, who she assumed I’d been with. But when she found out I’d been with another girl, she was upset, told me she was unhappy and disappointed, but she set it aside because she had a specific goal in mind.”

“Marriage, right?”

“Yes.”

“But then she decided she wanted to fuck?”

I chuckled, “She decided THAT at fourteen, which I know she’s said to you. And remember, she made me promise not to do it with her.”

“Did she regret that decision?”

“No, because of where we ended up. At seventeen and fourteen, we’d both have taken that as a promise to marry. And that could have ended in disaster in so many ways.”

“So you decide NOT to marry, and then decide it’s OK to fuck?”

“That is what it boils down to. We chose to act on the lust, knowing at that point that it didn’t mean we’d marry. But what surprised us is that after that, we discovered that it actually might be possible to make it work. But in the end, the bishop’s desire to ordain me to the diaconate ended that thinking.”

“It’s weird how she can be such a close friend. Nik clearly doesn’t approve.”

“I’m not sure why you think it’s so weird, really. Tasha and I handled everything in a very mature way. Well, eventually, anyway. She and I did a much better job of navigating the rocks and shoals than Jocelyn and I did. I learned a lot from those two relationships and I’ve applied those lessons to our relationship. There are no ‘do-overs’, so we - you and I both - have to do the hard work necessary to create a successful, lifelong marriage. I have to carry a huge percentage of the burden, but you have the tougher role, I think.”

“You mean dealing with what Tasha said would feel like neglect?”

“Yes. I can pretty much guarantee that there will be at least one time when you feel you truly need me and I won’t be able to be there for you. It’s what we talked about before I agreed to marry you.”

“I know,” she sighed. “The whole situation sucks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I do, too.”

“What?”

“Suck!” she giggled.

She slid down and I felt her wonderful lips on my glans, and then the exquisite warmth of her mouth and the extremely pleasurable sensation of her tongue as she began a very sensual blowjob. She moved one hand to cup my balls and grasped my quickly hardening shaft with her other hand and began stroking. After a few strokes, she began taking me further into her mouth until she reached her limit, then began bobbing, sucking, and licking.