A colleague told me this story, then in his words and on his behalf:
“I was sent on a business trip to a distant regional center. I am flying. I catch a taxi at the airport. It is a strong Caucasian middle-aged horse. The case is closer to the evening. It is dark. In the endless forest. We go quietly. According to my calculations, we walked half the way to the city. The driver asks spontaneously with a quiet voice:
Are you going to IBAT?
I was confused, and a little frightened, I didn't understand who would be "habit": he me or I him, but in any case, answered affirmatively.
A few kilometers later, a taxi driver stumbled onto a gas station, where the priests of love waited. from the heart. We offer night butterflies. I came back a little and polently refused.
"Well, it is right, let these bladey ibats - when leaving the gas station, the driver observed."
We went on a ride along the Black Sea coast. Although we live in Sochi, but wanted to travel to Anapa while stopping in car campings. I got corn on the road. Along the road, the grandmothers are standing. On the tables are hot corn. We stopped next to one of my grandmothers and I went shopping. The further dialogue:
I said: “Hello! “Sell me five pieces of corn.”
B: “Daughter, do you want to fuck?“..
I am in a slight shock.
I said, “I want to eat...”
B is joking.“..
My poor fantasy draws the plot as corn jokes with a thistle... It begins to stifle laughter, I rise already in the voice and I only ask for 5 pieces of corn)))))
Grandma finally stretches the corn to me, with her mouth stretching in an absolutely teethless smile from which Mona Lisa nervously smokes behind the barrel. Then he stretches me a bowl of salt and says, “Daughter, joke shame!”
I’ve never been so embarrassing and funny at the same time 😉
I have a friend who is not a physicist, but who works with people in one of the gold-billion countries. and here.
------------
The poor Philippine secretary has experienced a cultural shock today.
From the morning came a 48-year-old Oriental aunt, brightly expressed such an Oriental, with the name Lee, with a bad English. And from the first phrase moved with me in Russian, (type, undoubtedly native accent heard). She was a Korean who arrived from Tashkent 3 years ago. She talked to me for 20 minutes about her problems (not medical - about trying to find a job, I connected her with the right people), waved a pen and left a surprised Filipino woman to find out why this Russian looks like a Chinese woman.
Directly following her came a low, tightly shattered basmach with a shaved head named Parva Nujaylmohamed, 30 years old. The Chor. English, but with an accent - and, of course, from the second phrase moved with me to my native (and point. The intelligent Russian. He was Tajik, brought by his parents from Dushanbe in 2006. In the course of the case, he said, "I came at 15, it was very hard. We went into a Russian company and the next 5 years everything went in Russian, English has already been learned by adults.
I say, how did you study in school?
So I studied. Then again I had to repeat 11-12 classes in the evening, yes, we Russians from the company all the way, and Uzbek, and Kazakh, and Armenian we had.
Universe is finished?
A year ago.
The Philippines asked for an explanation. I have tried. On the way, he said that ethnic Russians are most often blond/light castan with blue/grey eyes and a round face. She looked at my face carefully and coughed with doubt. I told him that he was not an ethnic Russian. She cautiously asked – and ethnic Russians are many?
I said yes.
And here came a Czech by the name of Ulrich and Peter, he had been with me before. With a height of 2 meters and a more classical square Czech mouth. And he said to me, “Hello! How do you live?” I answered – well, thank you! and the Filipino gently repeated "good" - this word she already knew how to pronounce (even before me)
On the departure of Peter asked - he is also from the Soviet Union? I answered – no. I thought about how to explain.
After 2 o'clock, there was no surprise, and then a young economist from Kenya, cheerful black as a booth, ran from the second floor and burned out - hello! How to do? - Okay, - said the Filipino gently speaking the sounds. And he asked us both, is he also from the Soviet Union? The resident rattled and that not, but his grandmother from there, the friendship of the peoples, the grandfather's study in Leningrad / SP and sang the song "solar circle, sky around." An old Romanian Jew, sitting waiting for documents, sang with enthusiasm and that he once read well in Russian and wrote magazines Young Guard and Contemporary.
It rose and multiplied.
The situation became unbelievable in the eyes. In my head came the phrase, “This is me, the Postman Pechkin, who brought a package from your boy.”
And yet - well, give up to them this Ukraine, to spit all the polymers...