We used to spend the summer on the river, in boats or on the beach.

From Wolves Eat Dogs by Martin Cruz Smith.  Page 269.

"What's your opinion of Noah?" Arkady asked.

"From the Bible?"

"The Bible, the Flood, the ark."

"You are a strange man." He felt her tease around the question, searching for his angle. Eva said, "My opinion of Noah is low, my opinion of God is lower. Why on earth do you ask?"

"I was wondering 'Why Noah?' Was he a carpenter or a sailor?"

"A carpenter. All he had to do was float, and muck the stupid animals. It wasn't as if he was going anywhere."

"How do you know?"

"God would have given him directions."

"You're right." If Timofeyev had driven from Moscow to the Ukraine, to a small village he had never seen before, he would have needed directions. "Do you think the ark could have settled here?"

"Why not? It's a nice place," Eva said. "Full of murdered Poles, Jews, Reds and Whites, not to mention the victims starved to death by Stalin or hung by the Germans, but still nice. The best milk, best apples, best pears. We used to spend the summer on the river, in boats or on the beach. We fished. The Pripyat was famous for pike in those days. I would lie down on a towel on the beach and watch fluffy clouds and dream of dancing and traveling to foreign countries where I would meet a famous pianist, a passionate genius, and marry him and have six or seven children. We would live in London, but we would always spend our summers here. I'll let you guess: what part of that have I not accomplished?"