DAC-RESS, or notes of Uzbekistan

After two years of tireless making money and the divorce that followed, I realized that I was tired. Deserved a small rest and a decent amount of money for his personal needs.

I decided to choose a place to choose Germany in which it was not less than twenty times before, but I have never seen her really. And this country certainly deserves to look at her eyes of a careless traveler.

In order not to spend time upon receipt of a new German visa, I decided not to save on the ticket, but to fly on the day of decision-making and found myself in Sheremetyev, exactly one day before the expiration date of the visa. I didn’t scare this circumstance: I knew my experience that only a guarantor (a citizen of this country), 20 brands and 15 minutes needed in Germany to extend the visa. If there are all three components, you leave the burgomistrate with a visa extended for the time it was issued.

Our border guard was probably less knowledgeable in the German orders and tried to shake out of me if I do not soul, then at least some amount of money signs. However, a solid voice and the requirement to call the elder forced him to change the intentions and smell on my hand.

Only in Frankfurt am Main I realized that the guy was probably more prudent me. "After all, today is Friday. " – I understood with longing. The problem that was so successfully solved in Moscow, here turned into Probleme.

Judge for yourself: Friday, the second half of the day. Burgomistrate in which the visas are prolonged, already on the castle until Monday. Thus, extend the visa, the period of which expires at midnight, I can only two days later, and before that I will be on earth Germany completely illegal. Whether the German border guard is letting a simple Russian guy in his favorite Vaterland on meaningful conditions? Rhetorical question. Does not let any.

Any state border is a harsh thing, even clouds run frowning over it, and you will not wait for the German – smiles. With border guards here is extremely dangerous, I know by experience. Therefore, any attempt to leave the airport by talking, persuasion or temptations of the border guard I immediately died as unrealistic. What remained? Grip hostages not in my taste. It would be nice to mix with the crowd of American tourists who have practically do not check the passports, once I so slipped into a fool, but there was not a single suitable flock of Yankees at the airport.

In this situation, a grace decreased at me. Having not having the slightest acting experience, I played a brilliant performance without a script and rehearsal. I pretended to do not arrive in Germany, but on the contrary, I leave her gentle ground. Fortunately, my luggage was with me and did not stand out for sizes. I rushed to the only girl in the yellow-canary booth, with the text I could have translated into a few famous German language to me:

– Sorry I am very hurry after a short time to have a plane to Moscow and I forgot in the storage chamber bag with gifts for my little daughter Tanya and want to pick up the bag and rather run to the airliner.

This nonsense relaxed a cute chummy, and she did not want to look at my passport, which I swung before her nose.

– Bitte SSHON! – I heard the singing of angels and passed the barrier, not believing that what was happening – not hallucination.

All the way to Frankfurt, I repeated all the ways the delightful Bitte SSHON and stupidly smiled.

From the station I called the director, my friend and a business partner and informed his answering machine that I was in Germany. Freedom and idleness glow ahead, and I did not know how to contact them. My plans included close acquaintance with Berlin and Munich, as well as a week in a small hotel, by the way, the former Rothschild villa, in the charming town of Kenigstein not far from Frankfurt.

Mahnu in Berlin, – I decided, – and moved to the ticket office. Many of my friends prefer to all capitals Paris. But I am convinced: Berlin also stands Mass.

The first time I saw this city in 1986, when the famous wall also seemed unshakable, and Berlin appeared to a small joke of the Creator. Did the human imagination be invented by the city, half of which the Socialism is hit by a shock pace, and the other with a few zeal develops capitalism? At the same time, the first, everything as one dreams to move from its part, and the second make raids on enemy territory for cheap food and children’s clothing. Truly well where we are not.

Berlin Wall struck by a scope like Eiffel Tower or Roman Colosseum. I think Salvador Dali had to bite his elbows from the annoyance that this masterpiece of surrealism belongs not to him. Of course, with a drop of Wall Berlin lost part of his extravagant attractiveness, but the statement that he turned into an average German city – envious of slander. Berlin beautiful. Berlin is the joy of meeting with the old friend.

As soon as you cross the city border, you are in a hurry to welcome the ghost of the Studerlica Studernitz. Like a hospitable owner, he accompanies you everywhere – whether you read the luxurious shop windows slightly by Patus Kurfürstendam, or drink beer somewhere on disabledrant insurance, or just walk under Krons Unter Den Linden.

One day, I fled to the Berlin District of Keypenik, where, in legend, a Russian radio launcher lived with traditional German name Kat. There was a nasty November day with small cold rain. Friend just started telling a joke, how antique antique was left for us "chorch". We are tooltles. For a moment it seemed that Vyacheslav Tikhonov sits behind the wheel. "Chorch", Budsha tires, disappeared behind the turn, and we uttered the chorus with a friend: "Kat radio was pregnant. Stirlitz especially did not like this time of year". Until the metro station, we laughed like two psychos, and rare passersby crap from us, not noticing the puddle under their feet.

Berlin did not disappoint me and this time, and I returned to Frankfurt without any pleasure, especially early to get into the burgomistrate among the first. The director to call was still too early, and I headed to drink coffee, lingering for a minute at a cigarette machine.

I never trusted machine guns. Perhaps these are the remnants of children’s fear for the blood three kopecks in front of a machine with carbonated water. In my childhood, these shopping monsters were overloaded with me so many copiers that it was possible to cast a new king bell. I understand that German automata most often work on conscience, but I can’t do anything with anxiety. This time, the premonitions did not deceive me: the machine persogently spun a pack of Winston, but this deal turned out to be the most unsuccessful in my life. Putting cigarette cost me 5600 (five thousand six hundred) US dollars. It was so much lay in my bag that just stood under my feet, and now disappeared, as if her wind was blown.

In vain hoping to catch the thief, I was noticed between the storage chambers, ran along the train station, returned to the foot of the machine, who became an involuntary accomplice of the criminal, and walked into the police. In addition to labor savings in the bag, a driver’s license and passport remained, and I have only 140 brands and broken hopes in my hands. Eh, Mom told me: do not smoke, better drink.

In the main features, all police of the world are similar to our police. German guards of order differ from ours only by the fact that they do not swear by mat and they do not smell the hard.

I was met with irresolute views and gummime guten tag. I would still, with your trifles, I came to distract them from reading sports newspapers and games in "Tetris". I have all the well-known German words from the head flew out. The first phrases I blurted out on the mixture of German, English and Russian obscene. Having addressed, I decided to go to a more affordable English. Unfortunately, the German kopam is accessible to the same extent as their Russian colleagues. One of Pinkerton went to the officer who seemed to be able to cross on Inglish, the rest returned to the discussion of yesterday’s match.

After listening to my passionate monologue, the intelligent officer sluggishly asked where I.

"RUSSLAND" led him to a good mood. It turns out he owned and my native language.


"Tsap-Zarap" It turned out to be the famous and the rest of the risks, and they were clearly happy to shine their knowledge of foreign languages.

If you, God forbid, rob in Germany, do not strain the memory in search of German words. Go to the police and declare: "Tsap-Zarap!". You will understand.

During the preparation of the protocol there was another funny incident. I was born in Uzbekistan, what honestly informed the officer in response to his question. He looked at me incredulously, suspecting that such a country hardly exists in reality. Despite my assurances in the fact that by nationality I am Russian, he imprinted the following in the protocol: country of residence RUSSLAND, Nationality – Uzbekistan. I left the site as the only representative of the unknown science of the tribe of Uzbekistan.

The trouble, as it usually happens, has granted guests with its numerous lots. After half an hour after the visit to the plot, the secretary of the Dieter told me on the phone that "Herr Dieter went to ski in Switzerland and will be in two weeks".

And I, simple, Uzbekistan, hoped to take him in the money to patch the holes formed in the budget. I had other acquaintances in Frankfurt, but I did not achieve such heights in business yet.

Instead, I moved to Western Union – a company engaged in international monetary translations – more precisely, to the separation of one of the banks, the agent of this company. Two cute women explained to me that the transfer of money from Moscow will take no more than 20 minutes, money can be obtained without documents, just one code word. Painted, I bought a phone card and ran to call Moscow.

Unfortunately, among my friends there is not a single president of the bank or owner of the commodity exchange. In addition, the notebook also moved into the hands of robbers, and in my memory only the phone of the most expented friend was preserved. He wrote down the bank details for a long time and eventually promised to come up with something. The conversation cost me 50 brands from the preserved 140.

What can I say about Western Union? This is a very fast company. And what can I say about my comradist? This is a very slow man. Their collaboration when multiply gave minus. By calling Monday in the morning, I (run forward) got some money only on Wednesday evening. Despite the fact that the translation really took 15 minutes.

In the interval were still 60 stamps for one call to Moscow, with a request to hurry, and the rest of the impregnation with grief in the bar. I spent the night at the airport. Two times the police woke me up, but I poured the protocol in my nose "Tsap-Zarap" And flooded again. At the airport I inflicted a visit to the Native Aeroflot Agency. I wanted to ask permission to a very short call to Moscow, but the valiant representative of the execution said "No", I barely started an overture. Then his heart squeezed him, and he offered me five brands as an urgent and irrevocable loan. I turned and left.

DAC-RESS, or notes of Uzbekistan

By the evening of the medium, supported by three "Snickers" Over the past day, I came to the bank again. Instead of cute ladies there were two Usach, not similar to people with whom it is easy to talk about money.

– There is a translation, – said one. – Give your passport!

Stretching Zamusolen "Tsap-Zarap".

– Nein, – Says, – We need documents.

– Nein is not an answer – I object, – I do not have documents, but I know the code word.

– A code word?

Half an hour continues game "You are not a cashier, you are a killer". Zakokhav, please call the manager. I was lucky again, the manager turned out to be a woman.

I went to Berlin again, to the Russian Embassy. Someone from the Russians, I heard the birthplace generously he dreamed of birch juice. She met me tightly closed doors. Catholic Easter celebrated there. Counting to an invisible interlocutor, I learned that an embassy officer who deals with references went on a tour to London, and replace him with no one.

– And you, it means robbed. Probably it’s unpleasant. Come four days.

Everything. CHEST LA VIE, "said French. Finita La Comedia – Italian. American Cooker Would: Shit Happens. And the poor Uzbekistan did not have anything else, as soon as they get out in Russian. And go to the nearest beer.

Four Easter days I spent in a red cross at night. Spit, like a broom, on the public staircase below. For each step on the spit. For four days I failed to solve the mechanism of selection of guests of this abode of sorrow. It seems to be believed that anyone who fell into a difficult situation can come there and live three days completely free. However, in my eyes, the ministers denied completely different people, despite the presence of free places.

The same, who still broke through here, you can live as much as you like. And get everything provided by the system "Coy and breakfast". One of my Moscow buddy believed that the attractive formula was hidden in bed in bed, which, in addition, brings a pretty frivolous maid. How cruelly he would be disappointed, he gets at home near Berlin Zoo!

And what was me after a four-star hotels in the same Berlin live in a wretched four-room room! The Breakfastha menu was drawn up on the culinary book of the most severe ascets: two thin pieces of black bread, which, if desired, could be smeared with jam or margarine. Plus tea.

Four days later I found among the employees of the embassy of one of his friends. At the Institute I studied in one group with his future wife. He helped me overcome all bureaucratic obstacles. I did not even take a hundred dollars of consular fee.

– Well, thanks, – I said, stuffing in my pocket a certificate with a photo. – And then I already tortured. There is some kind of shitting having fun in London, and I hang out at home.

– Not for that, – he answered, lowering his eyes, – I’ll go. Just from London, you see, tired like a dog.

I shook my shit my hand and went out on Unter Den Linden.

I spent ten instructive days in Germany, became a homeless and Uzbekistan, finally, I traveled not only in space, but in time. On a piece of paper, which I proudly presented at the border was beautifully written: Certificate for the return to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

DAC-RESS, or notes of Uzbekistan

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