One day I drove to the south. At the break between Bataysk and Rostov I realized that I needed to sleep and rest. Winter, the night and the wind. The steep tourist shoes purchased yesterday wiped their legs in blood. Heavy backpack on his shoulders. I decide to go to Bataysk, because ten kilometers before it, and to Rostov 18.

On the outskirts of Bataysk I see an old five-story building, one of the entrances is closed to the code castle. I approach, guess the code on the deleted buttons, climb up to the upper floor. There is no light on the staircase. I sit on the stairs, my backpack under my head, trying to fall asleep.

The door knocks down and the stairs hurry. He stands up and stops in front of me. “Why are you lying here, right?” I answer that I am driving by car, tired, I need to sleep a couple of hours. “You can’t sleep here! Here people walk, any woman will go, will stumble at you in the darkness, will be scared!” I decide not to argue, I am going to leave. “Where have you gathered? Come to my house!“”

I enter the apartment. In the hall there is a woman and two young children (a boy and a girl aged five to seven). The woman does not ask a single question. I dress up and go to the shower. I get a clean towel. Then they sit at the table and we and the Armenian eat a tight dinner, drink a bunch of vodka. While we were eating, the woman laid me on the floor. I lay down, awakened by the alarm: the master's time to work. They quietly got up, ate breakfast, went out. Five minutes went together, he told me that he had a vegetable cane. Then I said goodbye and went back to the road. Soon he was already sitting in a cozy fur and drove to the sea. This is the Caucasian hospitality.