History of the Estonian in Moscow

A year around 1991 through the courts along the Leningrad Prospect in Moscow, not the ambassador, not the consul of Japan in the USSR was driving a service car with diplomatic numbers. I won’t mention it exactly, but something like the first person of the Japanese representation. Maybe looking for a trip on the highway or wanted to ask about a kiosk with cigarettes, nobody will tell you. In the field of sight of the Ambassador fell a local resident, making his old Zhyguli in the courtyard. The car with the ambassador stopped next to him and he politely started (in Russian, of course, the work is obligatory, although with a small accent): "Sorry, please, don't tell me how..."

The dissatisfied inhabitant of the ordinary Slavic outward appearance, I would even say - a little unhappy, came out of under his car, wiping out the oil-wiped hands. For more than an hour he could not start his jiggull, although it was just today he was cut as needed. Having held back the initial urge to send the strangled foreigner far away, he in the purest Japanese language, using a highlighted polite form of treatment (there are a few in Japanese, who does not know), said about the following: "Sorry, I am very busy now, could you turn to someone else?" Go back under the car. The Japanese's eyes became completely round, for a minute or two he sat quietly, then slowly left.

How could he know that, by pure coincidence, he addressed a question to a man from the first three of the leading Japanese translators of the Soviet Union?