How I Almost Ended Up Living in the Lighthouse at Bolshoy Fontan

It happened last summer, right in the thick of the July heat, when the asphalt on Deribasovskaya Street was melting—along with the tourists. I was in the midst of a terrible crisis: the project I’d been slaving over for six months had gone belly-up, my favorite sneakers had torn in the most unpatriotic spot imaginable, and my head was ringing as if I were sitting in the front row at a Leps concert.

Then I got a call from an acquaintance of mine—the caretaker of one of the old lighthouses (yes, Odessa has its own brand of small, romantic eccentricities). He said:

Vika, I’ve got a bottle of cold dry wine and three hours of free time before I have to change the lighthouse beacon. If you don’t get here in forty minutes, I’m drinking it myself and locking the door.

And there I was, sitting in my rented apartment on Malaya Arnautskaya Street, wearing a robe and holding a cup of cold coffee. Well, you know how we Odesans are—we don’t overthink things; we jump straight into doing something foolish, but we do it with style.

I sprang up, threw on the first dress I could find—a big polka-dot one—grabbed my camera, and ran out. Minibus No. 185 swayed over the bumps as if we were sailing a schooner through a storm. The driver was blasting *chanson* music at full volume, while an old woman in the front seat loudly complained about the price of eggplants at the Novy Market.

By the time I rushed to Bolshoy Fontan, the sun was already sinking into the sea, turning the water the color of a ripe pomegranate. We sat on the concrete parapet right at the edge of the cliff, dangling our legs over the water, drinking lukewarm wine from paper cups, and eating sweet cherries—flicking the pits straight into the Black Sea.

And suddenly, in that moment, I couldn't care less about that botched project, the deadlines, or all the problems in the world. The world narrowed down to the size of that lighthouse, the cries of the seagulls, and the scent of the sea air. I realized then: as long as you have the sea, a couple of true friends, and the ability to find joy in the little things, you are invincible.

Hey, what’s the craziest thing that’s happened to you lately? Be honest, though—none of that boring "I worked in an office" stuff. Drop me a line; I’m curious to know who I’m chatting with!