Then the magic began. Once those thousand — what am I saying, thousands, millions, none of us with frozen fingers could count that high anymore — Christmas lights switched on, the park quite literally lit up.
The cold, mind you, was merciless. Noses turned a suspicious shade of red, not unlike Rudolph the reindeer's, and steam poured from our mouths like from old steam locomotives. But that was exactly the charm of it! Since we absolutely had to warm up somehow, an entirely spontaneous, wonderfully romantic bout of huddling broke out. Under the pretext of "oh, my left elbow is freezing," we squeezed under each other's arms, warmed ourselves against each other's bodies, and discovered that winter romance is, in fact, an excellent team sport.
Uroš's magic and the Milky Way on earth
All that romantic shivering, of course, had its supreme conductor. Under Uroš's leadership, our frozen march turned into a genuinely intimate experience. Mixing determination with humour, Uroš steered our group through the light tunnels as if leading us through a tropical paradise rather than a frozen park. His energy created such a magical atmosphere that, for a moment, you genuinely forgot you still had toes.
The view of thousands of lights reflected in the winter darkness was indescribable. It was as if the Milky Way had descended straight down to earth and spread itself out among the trees of the Arboretum. Our souls were fed on pure romance, our eyes full of glow, and our bodies... well, our bodies were in urgent need of first aid.
The full-parking-lot syndrome, and popping the trunks
When we finally fought our way back to the exit (and started wondering whether our fingers would ever thaw again), the most sociable part of the evening began. Enter the good old full-parking-lot syndrome! Instead of scattering swiftly into warm cars and fleeing home, our naturist stubbornness once again asserted itself in all its glory. Nobody wanted to go home!
In an instant, the parking lot turned into an improvised open-air food market. All at once car trunks began popping open, and the smell of homemade treats filled the air. It turned out our thoughtful members had brought along a small fortune of provisions: potica cakes, biscuits, and, of course — the most important liquid medicine of all — thermoses full of hot, fragrant mulled wine!
Squeezed between the cars, a cup of mulled wine in one frozen hand and a homemade treat in the other, we quickly forgot the Siberian temperatures. Laughter echoed across the whole parking lot, and the warmth of the mulled wine finally reached our fingers. That evening truly did something wonderful for our souls. Nature had brought us together once again — this time not through sunshine, but through magical light, cold, remarkable closeness, and a warm car trunk. The Arboretum will go down as proof that naturists don't need summer to feel warm. All we need is good company, the right leader, a million lights, and cars full of treats!