In 1989 I had to travel from Moscow to Helsinki. One of my neighbors was a Swede, who, judging by his stories, visited almost the entire Soviet Union and visited almost all the Union republics. We talked, and I asked the most original question: "What do you like the most in our country?"

“Russian hospitality,” my interlocutor replied without thinking.

How is? “I cried out,” you said, having been to the Caucasus several times. The people of the Caucasus are famous for their traditional hospitality.

If you are invited to a house in the Caucasus, the table will be covered with the richest: the freshest fruits and vegetables, the finest meat, the unimaginable variety of dishes. The owner will get his best wine and will try his best to soothe the guest. During the evening, the host or one of his guests will say several times: “Have you paid attention to our Caucasian hospitality? This is our centuries-old tradition.”

If you are invited to a Russian family, everything will be much more modest. The observing guest will notice, however, that the hosts are somewhat confused that they cannot offer the guest more than they have. And if they are thankful for their hospitality, they will be truly surprised and someone will say, “Yes, God is with you. Go to the Caucasus, this is where real hospitality is.”

“It turns out,” my neighbor continued, “that Caucasian hospitality comes from tradition, and Russian hospitality comes from soul. It is, of course, wonderful when the people keep good traditions, but I like the Russian version somehow more, my casual companion concluded his reasoning.