The year 1996. I was in the 10th grade school with an in-depth study of foreign languages. And here in the summer a group of Americans, our peers, came to us for a couple of weeks, so that we could talk to native speakers, and they could see how we live here. You even needed to take one American home for a few days - to introduce the household, etc. Then I took the girl Jennifer to my grandmother’s village. There was another village next door. It was called the Happy Mountain. I, taught English in the Soviet traditions, without suspicion, translate the name: Gay Mountain. She looked at me so frightened, asking, and why did they call me so? I say, well, probably people there live like that.
Then I found out)