Real stories about Russians abroad. The funniest stories of the day! Ignorance of local customs

This story happened in 2014, when I was working in Sardinia. We lived in a hotel together with 90% of our tourists. The hotel complex is made in the form of a village, beautiful, in the forest. At night, wild boars were allowed to run around the territory. The tourists are mainly family tourists: pot-bellied men and women with wet chemicals and their children. In general, wild tourists, a la Beldibi (ed. - small resort town ok in the Turkish province of Antalya; famous for very cheap travel packages, as well as drunk and rowdy tourists) is not enough.

And then at night there was a call from the reception. At three in the morning. “There’s a problem with a tourist, go to the reception.” Sleepy, we stomp around with a colleague, and the doctor meets us there. And the tourist stands on the sidelines - a slender boy with narrow sloping shoulders and the look of an angel. And the doctor, therefore, asks the tourist to translate that he needs an operation. We are half asleep and don’t understand what is happening, what kind of operation? The doctor explains.

Your tourist, they say, went to the shower to wash in the evening. So slipped unsuccessfully that when he fell he sat on a bottle of deodorant. I took out the deodorant. But the cap is stuck.

And so quickly the doctor begins to show us how he tried to get the cap: with his fingernail, they say, he catches it, but still nothing. And at the end he adds to us: “Do you know what kind of deodorant?” We chorus: “No!” Doctor: "Fah!" Apparently this had special meaning. Everything ended well. The tourist was operated on and the cap was safely removed. I remember how he hobbled past the office with an uneven gait with a pink suitcase on wheels. A curtain.

2. Propidersia

You may have heard about this story. It made a lot of noise in 2012; it happened not to me, but to a guide I knew. Standard situation. Depar (editor's note - the day when a guide comes for tourists and takes them to the airport). Day. Belek (editor's note - a rather expensive resort town in the province of Antalya). The guide comes to the “Rixos Premium Belek” (editor’s note - an elite hotel in this town) for tourists, including a married couple. A girl comes out. Approaches the guide, notes, shows luggage. The guide asks where your husband is. To which the girl replies:

“Oh, you know, there’s such propidation here(editor's note - this word could not be deciphered) happened. My husband died. On the first day of rest. But, thank God, in bed. I turned on the air conditioner to plus 13, it lies there. In the room. We probably need to pick him up somehow and move him onto the bus.”

Story absolutely real, and what’s the most terrible thing about it is that the girl decided not to spoil her vacation on the first day and carefully turned on the air conditioner for her dead husband at 13, or that she slept in the same bed with a corpse for a week - I don’t know. Although, she probably still preferred to sleep with some animator.

3. Where is your wife?..

A similar story happened to me, also in Turkey and also in 2012. Havalimani (editor's note - airport - in Turkish). Arrival (editor's note - the day when the guide meets tourists and takes them to the hotel). Bigbus (large bus for several dozen tourists). I'm waiting for tourists. 40 on site - one voucher missing (editor's note - one voucher - one family). 2 pax (editor's note - 2 passengers), husband and wife. Everyone has already left, I'm waiting. The heat is impossible. It’s clear that I start whining at the operation (editor’s note - the Turkish manager who controls the boarding of tourists and the departure of buses): Abi, let me go, well, it’s a know show, I have bebeks polar Arabs (editor’s note - half a car of children, and all the rest are guides the buses have already left). Abi (ed. - an address to a Turkish man, something like “brother”) is stubborn: five more minutes. I curse Abi, but I wait.

And then - the appearance of Christ to the people. I'm watching, a silhouette looms on the horizon. I’m wondering if it’s a mirage, it’s so hot. Why only one, I have two people. But no, he comes directly to me and - oh gods - pulls out a voucher. I look, and it’s really mine. Joyfully I say: “Well, we’ve already been waiting for you, man, what took you so long! Come on in! Where is your wife?

To which the clearly tipsy man sluggishly explains something like: yes, she and I were on the train from our village to Rostov. And she died on the train. And if you call the morgue at a location other than your place of registration, it costs 7,000 rubles. And this is almost half of our trip. So I covered with a blanket. And then he arrived. So I'm in mourning. Don't scold.

R.S. Hotel guide then he said that they were finding out the fate of his wife, since he told everyone at the hotel the same version. And the version turned out to be true. After this I am afraid to go to the city of Rostov. And the Selcukhan Hotel. And maybe that’s partly why she’s not married. I don’t want to be wrapped in a blanket on the train and left behind.

4. Funny word

Many guides know that tourists from Bashkiria have a special charm. It's like they're always high. Maybe that's true. Well, funny guys. One day I come for depar. Hotel "Grand Haber", Kemer (editor's note - a city in the province of Antalya). The acoustics there are great, the hotel is big and I, starting from the entrance, yelled: “PEGASUS! KEMEROVO! AIRPORT!"

At my first battle cry, my dear uncle runs. In Hat! Set - socks, sandals. The cheeks are red and flaky - it’s obvious that the vacation was a great success and she can’t wait to go home, she misses the borscht. He runs up and joyfully says: “Yes, yes, we are Pegasus!” I say: “AIRPORT?” He - “yes!” I - “Last name?” He is “Garifullin!” I verify - there are no such people. Let me clarify - “definitely Pegasus?” He - “yes!” I say: “KEMEROVO? AIRPORT?" He - “well, yes, the airport! Pegasus!" I - “Kemerovo?” He - “Well, Pegasus! Airport!" Me, losing my mind: “KEMEROVO AIRPORT???”

He, perplexed: “What does this mean? funny word which you say all the time?

Me - “Where are you from?” He - “ahhh, from Bashkiria, Ufa!” The puzzle is complete.

5. Already?!

Another Bashkir story. I don't remember the hotel. In Kemer (editor's note - a resort town in the province of Antalya) there is a troika (editor's note - a three-star hotel), a typical pump hotel (editor's note - cheap hotel, where Russian tourists often come to have an affair with a Turkish animator). But, among budget tourist wildly popular. I'm taking the department. And as many as 10 people. I come in and yell: “PEGASUS! UFA! AIRPORT!"

Lying on a sun lounger by the pool is a madam of about thirty, but looking eccentric and very shabby. He jumps up and yells in a hysterical voice: “Already?!”

I say: “Yes, already! It's time two! I'm on time! Why aren’t you ready?” She - “I will instantly!” And he runs away. For now, I see that all 10 of my people have come. Everything according to the program. And this madam runs, dragging her checkered trunks. And on the bus. I stop her: “Wait, wait, what’s your last name?” She is “Samigullina”! I'm watching, there are no such. I say, “Are you really a Pegasus?” She - “yes!” I am “definitely from Ufa?” She - “yes, exactly!” I say, “strange.” Are you sure you’re leaving today?”

She: “Well, I actually just arrived yesterday for 9 days. But you said that everyone from Ufa gets on the bus. So I got ready.”

For a very long time I tried to persuade her to stay, I didn’t believe me that in 9 days the bus would still come for her again.

6. Fur coat

This story happened on a beautiful summer resort. It was an ordinary, sunny July day, I was going to another information meeting (editor's note - a meeting of a guide with tourists, when the guide talks about the country, the hotel, excursions and travel agency services). By the way, the meeting took place in an “away” hotel, as guides often say. This is the kind of hotel where every visiting tourist takes at least one excursion.

So, I’m walking and thinking that my long-awaited guest will definitely go somewhere, especially since I saw in advance that he is a lonely man of about 40. And now I’m already standing at the reception at the appointed time and waiting for my guest. And then a man comes up to me with absolutely with frightened eyes and a large package.

It’s not clear what’s in the package, but I didn’t inquire. In general, what's the difference?

We started a conversation with him, I told him about the hotel, about the infrastructure, and offered to choose different cultural recreation programs that he could take advantage of. And from the entire huge list, he suddenly chose the most expensive plane tour to neighboring country. Of course, I was happy and started writing him a ticket.

A childish smile shone on his face about the fulfillment of what seemed to be a long-standing dream.

I won’t lie, I was also happy about the successful deal. And so, when it came to payment, the man hands me a package with the words: “Here, take this for my trip!”

Then I got into a stupor. I couldn’t understand what could be in this package, which I noticed from the very beginning, but didn’t attach any importance to. And he again tells me: “Take it, take it! I don’t have cash, I’ll pay with this.”
Curiosity got the better of me and I looked into the package. What do you think was in this package?

Even I couldn’t imagine this. There was…. fur coat! Yes, yes, the man brought a fur coat from Siberia and wanted to exchange it for an excursion.

I was, of course, shocked. I say, we don’t take fur coats. The man didn’t believe it and tried to invite me to try it on. To be honest, it was so hot that I definitely didn’t have time for a fur coat. And then we agreed to meet a little later, so that by that time he could sell the fur coat and bring payment for the tour in money.

Imagine my surprise when on the same day it turned out that the fur coat was successfully sold and the man brought money for the excursion!

I don’t know who he sold it to in this heat.

7. Heart attack

After a short time working in tourism, nothing surprises me. At the hotel, a man suffered a heart attack due to drinking alcohol and the heat, after swimming in a cold pool. On the second or third day of rest. They had a tour for 2 weeks, so his family, having handed him over to the morgue, rested safely for the remaining time. We got a luxury room, went on excursions and went to photo shoots! If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it!

8. Gone beautifully

It’s a pity I didn’t keep a diary - there were really a lot of funny stories. And not funny at all. Once, my 82-year-old grandmother died on an excursion. I remember in Thailand (editor’s note - Thailand) when I was working, there was an excursion - river rafting. This grandmother was not allowed to participate in body rafting (editor’s note - rafting one’s own body along a rapid without a watercraft), but she said: “ I paid for everything!"Jumped out of the boat. They've already caught it with a hook...

Or maybe she just wanted to leave gracefully, who knows.

9. So the hunt for body massage...

But there was a story about family values. A bus was involved in an accident in Tai on the River Kwai. In August '14. I was sent to Bangkok to sit with tourists and translate if they needed to buy anything. The authorities said: “To fulfill any whim of tourists. Whatever they want."

They were modest at first. And then three days later they started ordering lobster, banana tails and crab salads to the chambers. We silently do everything as ordered. The accident was serious and they were helpful and tried to help in every possible way.

Among them were two married couples of victims. In one couple, the wife had serious injuries: her cheek and ear were torn off, and half her face was disfigured. In the second pair, the woman’s leg is very badly damaged. And the husbands are okay. And so these husbands at first pretended to be such family men, they went there for their wives, asked for this and that, looked after them - well, they were just kind of caring.

On the fourth day, both husbands come up and say: “Damn, I’ve only been in Thailand for 3 days and I had an accident. Rest down the drain. And so I wanted to go for a body massage (editor’s note - Thai women do massage with their bodies) or to prostitutes.”

And what. They took me. Any whim is at the expense of the company.

10. New dad

I worked in Turkey in a children's mini-club, keeping an eye on the children, that is. There was a 10-year-old boy there who was very dissatisfied with his vacation for some reason. It turned out that they divorced my dad, and my mom came to arrange her personal life. I went for a walk with the hotel owner and my son to the mini-club. Well, I think it’s an ordinary story, I feel sorry for the child, but you can also understand the mother - we are all sinners and want at least some kind of love and affection.

And then I see, a week later he doesn’t come to the mini-club, but the three of them walk along the shore and the boy is dragging a huge circle, just bought, and his eyes are shining. Well, I think it's good.

I’m coming to the same region for the next season as a guide and just got the same hotel where the mother and the boy were vacationing. So, in this hotel the owner is still the same Turk, only now married to that mother, and the boy’s new dad has been driving golf carts around the vast territory of the hotel all season.

Everything worked out well for them four years later I talked with my former colleagues, and as before, this couple manages the hotel and the boy is there on vacation. God bless them and all single mothers.

It happened in the Emirates. In the Russo tourist store, like in the Diamond Hand, I wanted to buy exactly the same one, but with mother-of-pearl buttons. Moreover, he spoke in a mixture of Russian-English-Arabic. Well, what stuck in his head from trips to countries and continents, that’s what the Lebanese Seller said, apparently thinking that the client lexicon the Arabic extensive, pressing his hands to his chest, says: Ahuy, which in Arabic means “brother.” The man begins to slowly boil, then, apparently deciding not to get involved, says: go to hell yourself, you mad monkey, offended to the core, is deleted.

As long as you remember Russian, your life in the Czech Republic will be one continuous fun. “Stinky” translated from Czech perfume, “stale grass” fresh food, “a bastard with cattle on a floating boat”, a handsome guy with an oar on a boat and other jokes... They say that a few years ago Russian tourists laughed until they hiccuped, looking at billboards “ Coca-Cola." There was a traditional frozen bottle, and the inscription on the shield read: “We finished off the creature!” The Russians, hiccupping with laughter, did not immediately realize that, translated from Czech, this inscription was just a powerful advertising slogan “A perfect creation!” In Prague, above the entrance to some places of entertainment there is the inscription “Girls for nothing.” Can you imagine how Russian-speaking males get upset when they find out that it just means that girls don’t pay for admission! And also the residential building “barracks”, hello girlfriend “ahoy fake”...

Our glorious Aeroflot has one wonderful flight. It is called Moscow - Kuala Lumpur - Singapore - Dubai - Moscow. Only in this order. And no way in reverse side. That is, if you want to get, say, from Kuala Lumpur (for the dark ones, this is the capital of Malaysia), say, to Moscow, please do so trip around the world 17 hours long. (It takes 10 hours to fly there from Moscow without landing). So here it is. A crowd of the entire A-310 boards in Kuala Lumpur and everyone goes to Moscow. Kalya-balya, the ship's commander and crew greet you, a movie about life jackets, etc. Landing in Singapore. The crew is being replaced with a new one. New crew - Dear back and forth, the commander and crew greetings, a movie about vests, etc. Another 7 hours to Dubai. There is a new crew in Dubai again. 12 hours of summer have passed. The people have already gone crazy - they did everything they could: they got drunk, threw up, overslept, got hungover, sobered up again...

And here the third crew again: “Dear ladies and gentlemen! The ship’s commander and crew welcome you aboard our plane!” To which, from somewhere in the back rows, a loud voice was heard throughout the entire cabin: “Well, damn it! It’s WE who fucking welcome you. On board OUR plane!” Stormy applause lasted about 15 minutes. In general, fly Aeroflot planes!

Turkish riding

A friend told me. She has a friend, and her friend has a 5-year-old daughter. Go

vacation Turkey. They are going up the mountain serpentine road, the guide accordingly

leads a tour like Look to the left, look to the right.

Has anyone traveled through the mountains? With Turkish drivers?

That's right - adults sometimes can't stand it and (sorry) vomit... What can we say about children. In general, this angel cannot withstand such overloads and begins to actively say goodbye to what he ate at breakfast. She is taken out of the bus so as not to embarrass or complicate what is already not the most pleasant process in life.

Naturally, the remaining passengers followed to stretch their limbs and breathe in the mountain air of the Turets region. To the credit of the bus driver, and perhaps this proud follower of Schumacher, realizing his guilt, decided to give instructions on how to prevent such a state in the future, and coming closer to our lamb, who, under the strict guidance of his mother, continued the process of calling ichthyander, uttered a socramental and edifying message to her, and so to everyone standing nearby:

Nada bilya straight samatrat!..

There was a ringing silence...

In response, the exhausted little girl turned half a turn and presented

the driver was exhausted from efforts, his face was covered in tears, drool and the remains of breakfast,

said with the same accent:

Nada bilya are on their way!..

It happened in Turkey. there in resort area there are a lot of Russian speakers. In one hotel, at the reception there were Uzbeks who come here for six months to work part-time (most of them are students). However, not every Soviet person is smart enough to guess that his former compatriot is behind the counter.

There was this guy Nurzhan there. What he received higher education had no effect on the desire to pose as a “wild Turk”. One day a lady approached him: “Do you speak Russian?” Nurzhan’s first reaction: “A little bit,” and shows with two fingers how little he knows in Russian. And the lady’s towel flew off the balcony, and she wanted to somehow explain that this towel needed to be retrieved. In general, a monologue followed for 5 minutes, which in the end about fifteen people poured out to watch:

"MY (the lady hits herself in the chest with her fist) TOWEL (draws a square in the air) BALCONY (shows the balcony with her hands) FALLED (hangs over an imaginary balcony) GET (reaches for the “fallen” towel). DO YOU UNDERSTAND? TOWEL! MINE! BALCONY! PICK UP! MY TOWEL FALLED!

It is clear that the lady could be heard even in the Odessa area. The climax came five minutes later, when Nurzhan could not stand it and, looking sadly into the lady’s eyes, said: “Yes, anything can happen...”

The next day the whole hotel knew the story.

Today I bring to your attention an article full of sparkling humor Viktor Baskakov about the holidays of our Russian tourists abroad. On this occasion, a lot of negativity is usually expressed: about our ladies, in stiletto heels and in full dress, both appropriate and inappropriate; about our men wasting money in hotel bars and driving hotel employees into the pool; and much more... Russians are perhaps the only nation whose representatives, having heard their native speech abroad, rush directly in the opposite direction...

But, my friends, we are not so “unfinished” as some Slavophobes are trying to portray us... Otherwise, where would such Bogatyrs come from like Kasyan from Victor’s previous story Or the resourceful veterinarian Nikolai from his own story

And today’s story also seems to be about ordinary Russian tourists. Simple, but not simple... Read, maybe you’ll recognize some of your friends. It is my pleasure to give the floor Viktor Baskakov !

The life of wonderful people.

I’m going through all my 15 countries, and all the time I catch myself thinking that I remember not only the sights: museums, exhibits, but PEOPLE, many of which turned out to be much more interesting than some ancient object. If you don’t mind, I won’t place special emphasis on the description of hotels and the number of swimming pools - this can now be found on the Internet with one click of a Search Engine button. But PEOPLE - our PEOPLE!.. Previously they would have added - SOVIET PEOPLE!..
I'm proud of OURS!..

So, Russians abroad.

This is an eternal topic... It has given and continues to give food to hundreds of comedians...
I saw the times when, in the “fun” years of the 2000s, “raspberry jackets” were “hanging out” throughout the flight in airplane cabins on flights Moscow – Hurghada. When flight attendants had a solid extra income, delivering square bottles of rum and sparkling copper decanters of whiskey in mini-Dutyfree carts. And the choral singing that follows this riotous libation is still felt by early graying Aeroflot pilots.

I remember how the crowd of arrivals did not ride along the escalator of the Hurghada airport, but ran, as if in the Moscow metro. Egyptian passport officers and customs officers habitually pressed themselves against the walls or stepped aside: “These are RUSSIANS!..”

But, having met my fellow countrymen on the beach, I became convinced that a much larger, significant part of my compatriots were not “raspberry jackets” at all, but ordinary hard workers - shift workers, milling operators, truck drivers... And, as a literature teacher, delving into the depths of the issue, I increasingly remembered the poem “Who lives well in Rus'” by our unforgettable poet Nekrasov, who knew everything about the Russian Peasant... “He works himself to death, drinks until he is half to death...”

And then I became convinced that not all men approached the bars, although on their hands there were gold plastic ribbons with the name of the hotel, allowing them to “enforce” magic words“All inclusive”...Many vacationers were sitting in a coffee shop or patiently waiting for chocolate ice cream...
Here are a few Egyptian encounters that stood out to me.

The cry of the oriole.

Naama Bay... A bay with the oldest hotels: Helnan Marina, Tropitel Naama Bay, Lajolina, Cataract...

We have been sunbathing for a week with my fellow travelers from the Samara flight: the old professor Sergei Borisovich and the elderly, powerful “foreman”, as he introduced himself, which means a builder - Fedor... True, it would be unfair to say “sunbathing” about him. Fedya swam for a long time, swam behind the buoys, but never took off his T-shirt with long (!) sleeves. - “I’m afraid of getting burned!..” Well, everyone has their own quirks... And we continued to enjoy a leisurely rest among the noisy Poles, the French smoking cigarettes and, guess what - our fellow countrymen...

Another morning... The “old-timers” already know that Sergei Borisovich will now address everyone:
- Quiet... Now the oriole will sing...
- Why is it so quiet?
- The oriole is such a bird that if it hears noise while singing, it... starts screaming!
- How to shout?..
- Naturally!..
As a literature teacher, I immediately remembered Yesenin and believed: “Somewhere an oriole is crying, hiding in a hollow...”

...And here it is - the first magical note right from the top of the palm tree... The beach fell silent... Again - a magical, bewitching trill... But from somewhere, deafening thug chords instantly turned the idyll into a cacophony... And the oriole really screamed!..

And three tipsy guys, obviously just arrived, not yet tanned, calmly walked straight on towels, flip flops and other things left near the sunbeds by tourists who had gone swimming. The guys did not pay attention to individual indignant remarks, but deliberately turned up the volume on a huge portable tape recorder with massive speakers. They set up their unit on a cabinet near the pool and went to the bar, where they began to pump up on Sahara beer, looking arrogantly at the people covering their ears. It should also be noted that the song sounding from the speakers was far ahead of even the repertoire of the Leningrad group in terms of profanity.

Fyodor calmly walked up to the cabinet, took off the tape recorder that was screaming at the entire beach, and solemnly, even somehow mournfully, plunged it into clear water pool...
At that moment, we heard the continued cry of the Oriole... True, also not for long, since the “Three Musketeers”: Nif-Nif, Naf-Naf and Nuf-Nuf - with a roar they quickly rushed towards Fedor, who was standing with his back to them.

The two-meter “foreman” calmly stood on the sunbed and, for the first time for us, who had known him for a week, pulled the Egyptian T-shirt over his head. It seemed to me that his wide, heavily tattooed chest contained part of the works of the Tretyakov Gallery... And a trio of criminal chanson lovers ran up from the side of the bar and first saw Fyodor’s BACK... Their eyes glazed over and their jaws dropped... For the sake of curiosity, I also looked from the “back” sides... Nothing special, some kind of cathedral... Only the number of domes it could compete with St. Basil's... (How could I, a Teacher of Fine Literature, know at that time that the number of domes means the number of "walks" and years spent by the owner these tattoos are in places far from hot Egypt, and the number of crosses is the number of criminal records).

Fedor, standing, towered on a lounger, like a patrician, in front of the Romans. He addressed the trio of subdued “music lovers” completely calmly, and even offensively indifferently. (I still regret that my video camera remained in the room, and my memory can convey to the readers of our blog only about one tenth of the text of the speech flowing from the inspired Speaker)... Oh, no, Fedor did not need to utter the words: “ Come on, women, shut your ears!” like in the movie “The Chairman”... He NEVER expressed himself in unprintable language. But the very Pressure and Passion of his Appeal to the guilty beach fellow citizens would easily be enough for the US Presidential candidate, Donald Trump, to defeat all his rivals at the very first debate.

- You are all rotten, like boards in a toilet!.. You were all conceived in a telephone booth, on a drunken night, after a bottle of Vermouth, during a terrible draft!..

During Fedya’s speech, a whole flock of seagulls and other small winged riffraff soared up... The local osprey falcon, nesting on the beaches of Egypt in winter, for the first time in its life dropped a freshly caught fish from its claws... Our beach camel fell powerless on its front knees...

Even the Poles, who had been pretending for a week that they didn’t understand Russian, applauded Fedya.

... AND AT THAT MOMENT THE ORIOLA SINGED!..

P.S. I have a photograph of Fedor, but he asked me not to show it to anyone, since in His case the word “Foreman” does not mean profession at all.

Polyglot Vasya.

I was dozing on the sunbed...
- Hello, neighbor!.. We have just settled in... Can you tell me which direction is better to sail to begin with?
- Hello... Swim to the left, there is a very beautiful reef... Where are you from?.. What is your name?..
- Vasily, Aigul... From Belebey, Bashkiria...
— We’ll be neighbors... By the way, will you go up to the restaurant for lunch or stay here?.. I asked the cook Mahmud if there’s lamb at the beach bar today.
- Vasya, let’s stay and see... We have 12 more days here - we’ll have time to try everywhere...
— We’ll stay... How did you ask the cook? What do you know in their language?..
- Yes, I speak a little Arabic...
— When I was in Turkey, I immediately went up to the bar and in Turkish: “Kyrmyzy sharap!..” Red wine, that means... They always poured me a full glass. And will you teach me the Egyptian way?.. Like, for example, it will be: “Red wine, three glasses!”
- “Nebit akhmar, talata...”
Under the mocking glances of gamblers under a nearby mushroom, Vasily crammed the text... Aigul in a swimsuit hurried to the sea:
- Vasya, put my chain in your bag, otherwise it will fly off in the water, like in Turkey...
Vasily looked after his wife and... put her chain on himself. Noticing my gaze, he explained: “So that you don’t get lost!”
Yes, it would be expensive to lose such a noticeable chain - a thick gold chain with a beautiful grooved crescent.

The gamblers urged Vasily: “Go, go, Polyglot!.. They will pour you the best wine, from a bottle under the counter - for the elite, just like that - for the British...”
On this day, the gray-haired Hadji, the strict Foreman of the bartenders, reigned in the bar. Vasily overtook me and greeted me: “Sabah il khir! ( Good morning!) Keifa challah? (How are you?)" The bartender blossomed with a smile: "Queys ketyr, boorish fool!" (Everything is fine, glory to Allah!)

And then I saw that Hadji looked intently at Vasily’s neck and asked: “Muslim?..” Vasya shook his head negatively: “No, I’m Vasya!.. We had a Muslim in the USSR - Magomayev...” I hissed at back to Vasily: “Muslim is in Arabic... He asked, Are you a Muslim?..”

Vasya, already visibly imagining three full glasses, no more, no less, “Chateau Margaux ’82,” nodded without hesitation: “Muslim!..” The bartender Hadji instantly curled his fingers into an international fig and stuck “Polyglot” under his nose. with the words in Russian: “Muslims don’t drink!..” The gamblers greeted Vasily, who was slurping unsalted, with friendly laughter. And I only now saw the light: on the neck of my student a Muslim crescent glittered. (His wife Aigul is Bashkir and Muslim).
- Vasya, not everything is lost!.. There is more than one restaurant and more than one bar here. Now Haji has a shift change... You will go to another bartender. Just take off the chain with the crescent!

A few minutes later, the gray-haired bartender was replaced by a young one - Mahmud, and Vasily casually approached the counter... The gamblers listened, expecting from Vasily the guttural sounds of the Great Language of the Arabians... Vasya clearly rattled off: “Vodka!.. Two!..”

Lyokha is a hammer.

A strong man who had just arrived chose a free sun lounger, threw his bag on it, sat down and immediately jumped up, uttering a strong word to the whole beach that even our “issuer” of towels, Said, understood.
- Damn, the nails are sticking out... I tore my shorts!
I nodded: “Hello, neighbor, the sun loungers are really old!.. Here their carpenter fell down the stairs and broke his leg... So they promised to send a replacement from another hotel for a whole week... What’s your name, where are you from?
- Lyokha, from Samara!
- Oh, fellow Volga resident! And I’m Victor, from Ulyanovsk... Well, let’s get straight to the point... If you need anything here, I’ll help you in Arabic...
Lyokha looked around under the fungus, picked up a stone and hammered a nail into the dried out bed with it. But it was impossible to get close to the headrest with the stone...

He looked carefully at the Egyptian on the tall palm tree, tying a large net.
- Wow, work!.. A man is poking pears...
- He ties up the dates so they don’t fall... Why do you need him?..
- This guy on the palm tree has a hammer sticking out of his bag... Tell him in their language, let him throw it to me for five minutes. I’m a carpenter... I’ll quickly fix the sunbed...
...The surprised Egyptian “Phoenician” carefully dropped a hammer from the palm tree for me, and Lyokha busily banged it on our sunbeds...

Yes, it was the Master! My sunbed and the one next door, where pensioner Praskovya Pavlovna and her granddaughter always struggled with the headrest, Lyokha “combed through” casually... At the cheerful sound of the hammer, other vacationers also looked back...
“Herr Grossmeister, bitte schön!” the tall Bavarian Helmut, 230 cm tall, with whom I often dived near the reef, looked pleadingly at the Carpenter.
- “Lyokha, you will have to INCREASE his sunbed... There, grab spare parts for the broken one... Go and provide international assistance...

Lyokha returned from the German couple, twirling a five-euro note in his hands... “That’s it, I’ve built it up... Now even a camel will fit on this lounger!”

“Master Hammer,” as the grateful vacationers had already dubbed Lyokha, did not have time to finish; he was led by the hand to the far end of the beach by the venerable mother of the family, who showed her son, who had his hand pinched by a faulty sun lounger. While relaxing and solving a crossword puzzle, I periodically, from different ends of the beach, heard a knock reminiscent of a woodpecker tap-dancing.

... An hour later, Lyokha came up and dumped a handful of bills on a towel:

So, dollars... And this, therefore, is their Egyptian pounds... ...Look, these are the British - they only gave them five pounds... I arranged three sunbeds for them and nailed a string for swimsuits... What a cheapskate!

I took a closer look:

You’re in vain, Lyokha!.. Representatives of Her Majesty’s Kingdom gave you, indeed, pounds, but... pounds of STERLING... This is more than dollars and even euros...
Lyokha gave the hammer to the approaching “Phoenician” and, to celebrate, “unfastened” him thirty pounds (Egyptian)... He looked at Lyokha as if he were the God Osiris and joyfully clutched a wad of orange banknotes.

And then, from the upper gallery, where there were also sun loungers, a tall, wiry old man came down with long strides: “Pan Lech!.. Pan Lech!..” The “Phoenician” realized before us, shoved the hammer into Lech and, in my opinion, even without a ladder - stepladders, like a monkey, climbed onto another palm tree.
- I heard, Lech, your name is already Walesa... Go, Mr. Lech, there is a whole delegation of Poles here and you will have a lot of work...

Lyokha ran around with his tongue hanging out until dinner. Twice he ran up with a report: “Victor, there are two aunts from Munich asking for more chairs and beach chairs to be set up... One’s legs have moved apart, and the other has sunk into the sea, right into the coral bottom from its weight... You should only see them! .. They both weigh about 150 kilograms and they also came to “All Inclusive”!.. There are no such nails here... You need crutches, like for railroad sleepers!..”

For the second time, the Carpenter complained about the customers from the very top gallery: “Victor, there they... are... wearing only laces...”
- A-ah, in a thong... Lyokha is Italian, there are only three married couples. Don’t be picky, maybe there’s some “Godfather” Don Gambino…”
- And near the souvenir kiosk there is one guy... also in these... “thongs”...
- Alexey, this is a representative of Belle Holland, he is from Amsterdam. Does this mean anything to you?
- No, but he didn’t ask for a chair - he’s thin. Just glasses and a lace instead of panties...
- Go, sociologist! You are on a friendly mission to strengthen...
- Sunbeds?
- Yes, and Friendship between peoples!.. Go!

...In the morning, I agreed to show Lyokha a local landmark - the huge Napoleon - “Grisha”, which punctually sailed past our pier at exactly seven o’clock. But already on the approach to the pier, from a distance we saw a familiar thin figure - the “Phoenician” timidly handed Lyokha a hammer...

P.S. Note to the editor: All photos were taken by me with a clear mind and strong memory.

VIKTOR BASKAKOV.

It so happened that this year I built a house in the village. Near the Volga, forest, mushrooms, fishing. Beauty, in a word. Naturally, I began to establish connections with the local aborigines regarding fish, mushroom and berry places. I became friends with a guy called Alexander. This hard-working little guy is about forty years old. He's creepy with his hands. Two cows and their wives keep calves. The house is in good condition, the on-board UAZ is on the farm. So, we had a conversation with him about a well-known topic, about how you can’t make money in the village, people are drinking themselves to death out of hopelessness. Young people are leaving for the city...
“Won’t you make money?” I say, “No way, no way?”
Nooooo, why is there 6 rubles on a collective farm, is that really income? - and further in the same spirit.
Well, okay, I think there’s no point in wagging my tongue in vain. You can't prove anything with your fingers.
I downloaded the simplest picture from the Internet: a wooden table with benches. The next day I come to Sashka and say: “Listen, you seem to be strong in carpentry?” Are you creating such a wonder for me? Sanya looked: “No problem, I can do it in a day, do you have the material?”
I say no, no. They tore down the house here, took the dry boards to the landfill, shall we go and have a look?
We went to the landfill and brought some boards. The next day Sashok started sawing and planing, and I visited him in the evening.
Take the job, he says. Damn, I built it exactly like in the picture.
I ask, how much should I owe? Two rubles! Is it normal, huh? No question, I give two thousand, and I say, now, Sash, take it all to the store by the road, we’ll sell it. He says, how can I sell it like that? And like this. They brought me a nickel to the store, I blurted out a piece of paper on the table for 5 thousand rubles. I bought a beer, sat and basked in the sun. Summer residents drive up to the store, many take a closer look. Forty minutes later, a man from a neighboring village bought it. And I ordered delivery for 500 rubles. I asked Sanka, will you deliver? For five hundred? Yes Easy!. And then I ask him, well, neighbor, you say, you can’t make money? To which Sanek answers me, “Listen, you say this... Let me do it, and you sell it?”

YOUR MOTHER, SANYA! I PUT A FREAK IN YOUR POCKET IN AN HOUR, AND YOU PUT A WHOLE DAY FOR TWO RUBLES! WHAT ARE YOU, STUPID? OR IS IT DIFFICULT TO STAND AT THE STORE FOR AN HOUR? OR SHOULD I PUT MY WIFE?
So don’t tell me about opportunities in the countryside and in the city... Everything depends on the people...

EBON (United Special Purpose Battalion) is being created in Mariupol

Original solution. But why in Mariupol alone? It's high time to
Zaporozhye to create ZaEBON, in Poltava - PoEBON, in Vinnitsa - ViEBON, etc. And then we need to expand the initiative to the scale of the entire Ukrostan and create UEBON. Accordingly, the employees are UEBONTS. It will be true and sounds beautiful!

Symbol of Russia.
Do you think this is a matryoshka doll, a bear or a pickled cucumber? Not true. The symbol of Russia is the muskrat.
This is exactly what British scientists think. Judge for yourself, this little thing has a wool density of 60 pieces per mm, no one else has such a fur coat. Lives only in Russia. The one that is found somewhere near Spain is not even worthy of a muskrat. Moreover, it is a relative of the Australian aborigines of nature. The cattle also have unexpected features. So British scientists decided to find them out. We obtained it through the incredible efforts of several individuals and let’s measure them. They tried this, they tried that, everything is not like people’s. The temperature is generally 30 degrees. Can you imagine yourself with this temperature - a blue, motionless piece of something, and a muskrat is jumping and jumping and multiplying. And they measured her this way and that. 30 degrees. I don’t believe it, they said in the magazine “Natura” or “Nature”. Don't believe us? British scientists were outraged. Now we will prove it to you. They took a special electronic thermometer with a radio transmitter and an antenna, developed by British research institutes specifically for insertion into the butts (well, so as not to interfere with poop). We plugged this unit into muskrats and decided to take them out into the wild in order to assess their temperature balance in natural conditions. The British are. They forgot the truth that the muskrat is a relative not only of the platypus, but also of the mole. So the Russian muskrats escaped from British dungeons, but this did not upset the scientists. They regularly send data on the temperature in their assholes via satellite channels. Is it true local residents They began to complain - they say they have Russian spy rats. They climb everywhere, are not afraid of anyone, and have an antenna sticking out of their ass. That's right - they spy, they look for secrets. Do you think it's a lie? The real truth.

SAY STORK, SAY BIRD!

My boss had some difficulties in his family due to the sudden pregnancy of his lonely secretary. All suspicions fell on him. And then his 4-year-old son came to his childhood time because of the most anthropogenetic question:
-Where did I come from?
Dad:
- The stork brought you!
Mom, angrily pointing at dad:
- This!
- Dad, were you a stork then?
Mom, sad:
- He is still a stork!

It was just now. Well, it’s cunning, there’s no need for invention.
In our city there is a chain of Rosinka stores. One of these stores is located next to the Rosinkassatsiya office. Accordingly, there are not enough parking spaces for everyone. There is a sign in the parking lot: Only for A\M ROSINKAS (black letters on a white background). A GAZelle with a Rosinka store label all over the side gets into the parking lot, and a sort of joker with a Belomorina drives out. A Tajik/Uzbek minces towards him, yelling at Dzhamshut in that, you know, reflective vest, similar to a traffic police vest, saying, “Get the car out of here and there’s a sign.” And the driver is so cunning, this is a parking lot for cars of OUR store, and I’m standing here. Dzhamshut turns around, sees a sign: Only for A\M ROSINKA, and of course, he goes crazy. Well, you already understood, some idiot simply spray-painted the letter C on a parking sign with white paint.

I was abroad here and went to a Russian grocery store. I see "Russian Pelmeni Babushka".
I took the pack in my hands and became curious. I look - the expiration date is October 16th, I think - expired. I put on my glasses and read “until October 16, 2017.” I was surprised, put the dumplings back, and moved on. I see there are packages of salt (regular table salt, locally produced), the expiration date is “until May 2015.” I thought a lot.
Either they brought in “second freshness” salt, or dumplings made from the meat of an unborn calf...

Sitting at work. The radio is playing. The presenter talks.
Walks along the sidewalk and approaches a pedestrian crossing. On the zebra crossing
there is a tinted jeep. Go around as you wish.
"This is the bottom!" - says the presenter, - “And the bottom is that it costs
it is opposite the entrance to the police station (aka police)."
He's right, of course, but let's look from the other side of the wind
(aka windshield) glass.

I'm leaving work. It's already dark. Pedestrians are poorly visible. The driver himself -
I know. Ahead are two ladies of pre-retirement age. Loud
talking about the same topic as yesterday on the next street at the same time
some bastard almost hit their friend on a pedestrian street
transition.
We are approaching the transition. The light is red and the stopwatch is flashing.
14 seconds before switching. I stop and wait. Ladies, no
paying attention to the stupid thing, they continue moving.
Squealing brakes. The driver who had already crossed a zebra crossing miraculously
doesn't send the ladies back onto the sidewalk with the bumper. Next
the car, screeching, stops no more than a centimeter from
first. The third succeeds with less losses for the tires.
"Bastard! ... Bastard!! ....... Don't you see..... the transition and....."
The ladies proudly leave. The driver wipes his sweat and slowly
slides off the zebra. The second car remains in place. Traffic light
already for pedestrians. THIS IS THE BOTTOM.
And now the BOTTOM.
The second car had the war paint of our valiant traffic police,
and our valiant did not bother to tear his from the driver’s
chairs to find out: “Tell us, citizens
basic responsibilities of pedestrians!!!"

And by the way.
A very high official said that the presumption of innocence
does not apply to drivers.

In one of the hotels Turkish resort Kemer happened mass brawl between Russians and Ukrainians. The media report that what was happening resembled a massacre and several police crews had to calm down the “Russian-Ukrainian war.”

“In one of the hotels in Kemer, the police had to separate Russian and Ukrainian tourists who started a fight. According to eyewitnesses, drunken remarks
holidaymakers from Ukraine against holidaymakers from Russia became the cause of a massacre,” writes Segodnya.ru.

What exactly happened? Eyewitnesses and onlookers who filmed the fight between Russians and Ukrainians on video reported that after dinner, “a group of Kiev residents had drunk a lot
alcohol, began chanting “Moskalyaku to Gilyak!” Staying at the hotel Russian tourists from St. Petersburg immediately reprimanded them. A
Now, after the Ukrainians did not react to the remark, continuing to insult the Russians, a fight began and became widespread.

"The fight was simply heaven-sent. They fought with sun loungers, chairs, drowned someone in the hotel pool. Arrived a large number of police cars" -
an eyewitness told the press.

Another vacationer said that “several Caucasians fought, very hard,” he added.

The press reports that if in this case we can talk about “victory”, it remained with the Russians. “According to existing information, Russian tourists won the “victory” in the brawl,” reports the Krym-Online publication.

“It was something. A group of drunken idiots are sitting, shouting about Muscovites, they are reprimanded, they only start to get worse, two Russians jump up, run up and
beat. In response, a dozen Ukrainians jump up, run towards the Russians, grab chairs, then the Russians get up - and away they go, everything that is at hand is used.
Security and staff ran to hell! The felling was like a civilian one!” shares the witness.

http://kanikulymeksike.ucoz.ru/_ph/1/2/490693470.jpg

Another vacationer noted that after the end of the fight, the Russians raised a small Russian flag over the hotel, which one of the vacationers ended up with,
but the Turkish police immediately removed it. An investigation is underway; the vacationers have partially left the hotel.

It is worth noting that this is not the first time that Ukrainians have deliberately provoked Russians while on vacation abroad.

For example, Runet
passed down by history
Olga Efimenko,
bragging about his
Facebook about your May holiday"in Russian-occupied Egypt. She said that the morning of Victory Day infuriated her with a "breakfast full of St. George
ribbons,” and her son “dragonized the audience with his yellow-blue swimming trunks” and shouting “Whoever doesn’t gallop is a Muscovite!” Shouting “Glory to Ukraine” on the slides, according to vacationers,
the family was "getting a kick out of it."

Also, journalists from poor and deprived Ukraine filmed the story"
Crimea is yours, and Egypt is ours."
The program shows how they provoked Russian tourists on vacation in Egypt. The media note that the plot has already received the sea negative reviews on social networks, in
including from residents of Ukraine. People are unhappy that journalists deliberately provoke Russian vacationers, and then are feignedly surprised by the aggression in their
address.

Let us add that Russians have already become heroes of unusual news while on vacation. For example, during the revolution in Egypt, the Russians did not refuse
tours, but on the contrary - they called “let’s give soot to the Tutankhamuns!” Besides,
The media told
"There had been riots in Cairo for several days. Having gathered together and draped Russian and Egyptian flags over their shoulders, vacationers set off shouting “Ros-si-ya!”
and “Egypt for Russians!” into the city, freely cutting through the crowds of rioting Egyptians."

I watched the news about crazy car sales; at night an ATM was stormed under my window. I was just looking at a website selling used ones. cars - the sales dates from 15 to this day were encouraging. People!!! AU! In this situation, after the New Year there will be no goods and no dollars, but you will be collecting pennies for bread... And then screaming while sitting on 10 microwave ovens, “WHEN WILL THIS HUNGER END.”

At the tram stop railway station In Lvov, a visitor timidly asks those around him in a wild surzhik of Russian and Ukrainian words:
- Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to the Yuri Gagarin Palace of Culture?
The stop is silent for a long time, until one gentleman breaks the silence, tolerantly explaining to the visitor:
- In Lviv there is no longer a palace with that name, but there is a palace of culture for student youth named after Petrushevich. Sit down, sir, on our beautiful new tram and go to Zelenaya Street.
- Excuse me, but who is Petrushevich?
- Why, sir doesn’t know who Petrushevich is? This is the first Ukrainian cosmonaut.
The visitor gets on the tram and, humming to himself: “He said: Let's go!”, leaves.

Notes from a graphomaniac about an appreciative public.

I replaced two pools of cretins here a long time ago. The first ones approach everything they read with the Book of the Dead papyrus, well, you know there, of course:

I didn't do harm to people.
I did not harm the livestock.
I didn't do anything wrong.
I didn't commit adultery.
I did not commit adultery with cattle.
I did not raise my hand against a weak person.
I was not the cause of the tears.
I didn't kill.
I didn't hurt anyone.
I didn't curse.
I did not take milk from the mouths of children...

Analyze the text in the light of the written text.
But instead of Ba's conclusion: “I am clean! I am clean! I am clean!” -done: “The author is the son of sin and the father of abomination”
The soviet variety of puritan is shaking an arthritic hand with the “Moral Code of the Builder of Communism” clutched in it.
The ancient Egyptian and ancient Soviet moralists have in common the fact that they defend the ideals of goodness and beauty exclusively with obscenities with a predominance of anal connotations. Well, sometimes diversifying speech with oral ones.
Sad suspicions creep in that high morality is incompatible with good manners. You have to choose between the swearing righteous and the soothing speech of the scoundrels. Alas.

“The second topic is literalists. Who read in a certain arithmometric state. Since it is written, “there were two standing, the second was called Petya,” then forty-seven thousand people will definitely ask, what was the name of the first? Of these forty-seven thousand, thirty-two thousand will require clarification, and what was the name of the second father? Another four thousand will definitely wonder about “what, in what, when and where did they stand?”
Torture of such people is the fifth pleasure out of seven permitted. You throw them a collection of haiku and watch through the peephole as people writhe against the bars in inflamed feelings. How, what, where?
And now the comments will be about what six other pleasures are there, right? Use your imagination, friends!

Z I visited the border almost a month ago, but I still haven’t been able to erase some indelible impressions from my memory, so I’m forced to write them down. What shocks me most is not even the facts themselves and the types described, but the fact that in Russia this did not catch my eye at all. Here it seems to be the perfect norm.

WOMEN

When I lived in Egypt, I constantly noted that our women looked especially wild. To hell with the evening look. But I have always been surprised by the hordes of girls who, in a Muslim country, go out into the city in the evening, wearing “shorts” that practically do not cover their butts, and translucent tops. And then they cackle indignantly: the Arabs are annoying savages! About heels and wedges on the beach - I will mercifully say nothing at all. Looking at our girls abroad, you always think: how badly they want to get married, since they dress like that!

MEN ARE NOT BETTER

A man with a family leaving is, in my opinion, an equally scary guy. If a girl in high heels somehow turns pale before departure and blends in with the crowd of mere mortals in sandals and appropriate clothes, then he, on the contrary, only now shows himself in all his glory. And there is no smell of a white piano with “our song” from the Bi2 repertoire, or even the sacramental, sounding background “Dad, I pooped!”, cheerfully ridiculed in everyone’s favorite film by Quartet I. Staggering and leaning on his shabby-looking wife, he stands on passport control naked to the waist, drunk as a smoke and terribly proud of the fact that he managed to deftly refill the empty bottles from the minibar with water, and not pay anything for them.

The desire to deceive someone seems to be our national trait in general.
However, there are many warm and friendly places in the world where all these types do not go.

For example, Cyprus, from which I recently returned. I asked the travel agency a difficult task: so that there would be something to do there other than “lounging under an umbrella”, so that there would be a minimum of Russians, but at the same time it would be cheap. As a result, I was greeted by beautiful Larnaca, windsurfing 500 meters from the hotel and pink flamingos on a salt lake a quarter of an hour walk along the beach. And also silence, a spacious room, a personal jacuzzi and the absence of comical characters in the hotel. Now you can go

Sh Ri Lanka - more expensive, of course, from 67,100 rubles, but far from the possible habitats of drunk men and girls for rent, surf, gorge on fruit and enjoy life. The most interesting thing when studying such options is. For example, if you fly on Thursday the price may be much lower. What's the most expensive option? And the cheapest? What if it’s not 8 days, but 9, and the departure is a day earlier?

E this is just for example. Actually