A lilliputian puppet

Sometimes, ya just gotta laugh...

On my way over a few final mountains before the deep descent into Balaklava, I encountered an uncommon fence barring my way. Anyone familiar with walking in Colorado leaps over 3-strand barbed wire fences all the time; similarly, stile-stepping over stone walls is common in the UK. But my long walks through Ukraine so far have required infrequent barriers like these. This particular fence was something on solid ground I could have easily vaulted over; however, today, there was plenty of mud and evidence of many farm animals recently passing by. Because of the stinky mud, I chose not to remove my backpack and drop it over the fence before climbing over it myself. That was the foreshadowing of a minor disaster. Just as I crossed my first leg over, my hiking poles slipped and crash, bang, I lost my balance, perching myself somehow with the slats of the fence lodged between my back and my backpack, my toes just shy of the mud no matter how much I kicked and wiggled. Hung up like a puppet. I had to laugh out loud at my own predicament.

Before I had a chance to unclasp my hipbelt and drop into the poopy mud, and still laughing at myself, I heard the guffaws of two people behind me. Unable to turn around because of my pack, I wiggled all the more to see my heckling audience, making even more of a fool of myself. Two Tatar adolencents moving a few goats came up splitting their sides laughing. I laughed even harder. Each stepped over the fence with long-legged ease and came to my aid. Taking me by the elbows, the boys lifted me from my perch and delivered me to the drier grass. One of the guys retrieved my poles and washed the mud off in a brook. With the other, I was able to converse - my bad Russian being remarkably better than his bad English. They were from some 'stan' I didn't recognize but have lived here for a few years, I gathered. Nice kids.

It just goes to show that visual comedy, even unintended, transcends age, gender, nationality, culture and language. We all laughed hard at the silliness of my getting hung up on a small fence, there on a hillside above Balaklava, just above the valley where a light brigade charged in some battle long ago.