In 2004, I was travelling by train from Moscow to Budapest via Kiev. Most of the passengers were travelling in Transcarpatia, the train "Moscow - Chop", and then the trailer wagons: "Moscow - Budapest", "Moscow - Zagreb", "Moscow - Venice".

Travellers abroad were very few. There were only two in our wagon to Budapest – I and a very colourful non-formal metalist. It looked like a miraculously preserved metalwork from the 80s. Hair, chains, T-shirt, clutches with spikes. In general, a very pleasant person in communication. He went to the Sighet Festival, on an island in the middle of the Danube.

We sit in his couch, we talk. The Hungarian border guard has passed. “Please go in your coupe – the Hungarian customs officer is coming.”

Go to your store for things. I wait. I hear a customsman come to the metallist and the following dialogue occurs:



Jonah is rattling! Good day! in Hungarian)

Hi to you.



The customsman translates to Russian, and speaks with a characteristic "Estonian" accent (one language group).



How do you eat? and ghetto?

The sight...

Is there an Arctic Tic?

... no...

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!! to

Help your relatives with work and money, and you will know that you are a scapegoat and cattle, because you have a larger house and your salary is higher.

My 30-year-old husband ordered a cake with the inscription “18+12”. Plus, they forgot to do, and the day before they called from a confectionery and asked, "Are you sure that the cake for the anniversary of the war of 1812 should be in the form of a heart?"

I can't wait to see a new show on the channel "Russia" "A Night Without Vladimir Soloviev". Without Ukraine.