We have a man in the neighboring street. Somewhere at two o’clock comes to his home on a tourist bus, parks, gets out of the luggage compartment and with a satisfied mouth rides 200 meters to the entrance. Lunch in the same way. And in general, bus drivers are classy, scattering songs from religious to heavy rock. In the morning, they leave the central station, greet each other and throw sweets out the windows. They are worn like in American films, but polite, even kebenimates do not send, unlike road drivers.