The road left the town from the west, skirting round Beshtau, the largest of the five volcanoes; below, one could glimpse now and then the bends of the Podkumok, its waters gray and muddy. I didn’t actually have much to do in these other towns, but I was curious to visit them, and I wasn’t burning with desire to go see the Aktion. Yessentuki, under the Soviets, had been transformed into an industrial city of not much interest; I met the officers of the Teilkommando there, discussed their arrangements, and didn’t linger. Kislovodsk, on the other hand, turned out to be very pleasant, an old spa town with a faded, outmoded charm, greener and prettier than Pyatigorsk. The main baths were housed in a curious imitation Indian temple, built around the turn of the century; I tasted the water they call Narzan, and found it pleasantly sparkling, but a little too bitter. After my discussions I took a stroll in the large park, then returned to Pyatigorsk.
