A monastery I actually do get to

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The tourist map and books describe Toplou monastery as something really special, a place of influence in the spiritual and administrative life of the district, with two museums, places to eat, places to stay...

Toplou 623

Well, at least it's a place which is a bit looked after, nice courtyards, washing hanging on the line to dry, painted numbers on various walls - I wonder if they might be museum catalogue numbers, but they're done the same as the house numbers in the villages ... still, it's hard to see who would be sending post to number 623, the funeral chapel, or indeed number 625, the door to the public toilets, rather smelly in the old Russian and French tradition ; five newish cars parked in various places.

No people, however.

There is indeed a café with a notice offering yoghurt and honey, although only a fool would expect it to be open out of season, of course...

Ah, one little old one-eyed man in a plastic mac comes hobbling towards me. He points upwards with first one finger, then with two; I undertake an inner search for a deep spiritual meaning in his symbolic gestures. When I finally have to acknowledge failure in my search for enlightenment, I consider the stronger probability that he's telling me that he's going for his lunch now that it's one o'clock, and that I can't get in till two. That does seem to be it, and I can only hope he will not be too disturbed if I continue to wander around outside the buildings.