With the explicit permission of
the Russian Prime Minister
we glided into the Arctic waters of Provideniya Bay, the first non-Russian vessel to do so
in 60 years. A converted army truck carried us inland, where we shared a plate of bread, hot from the oven. And though we hadn, t yet
sampled the vodka, we were intoxicated.
For while we had begun our journey aboard the
yacht as neighbors, we were now more than that. We had created history together.
Three months later, Kate and I stand on our
apartment balcony, watching the shoreline get
closer, recalling the surprising warmth of the locals, even the soldiers.
And we renew our pledge to never forget that day. But the breeze coming off the water forces our
heads back to a more literal warmth, the kind you can only feel south of the equator...