Two nights on the row coming back to the residency I saw an old men walking back and forth at the end of a park street at 2 am.
“Kus on bussijaam?” he asks
“Which one?”
Its hard to explain in Narva where is the bus station, as a border city it always depends where do you go.
“Kus on bussijaam?”
I can see his big eyes through thick glasses begging to get an answer on his simple question.
“Maybe you speak Russian?”
“Yes, I am Russsian. Where is bussijaam?” he answers
“Where do you go?”
“Where is bussiajaam?”
“But where do you need to go? There are some buses from Russia crossing over the border 10 minutes away from here if you walk straight by this park road. They catch people up on the border. Where do you need to go?”
“Where is busijaam?”
“Maybe you go to Tallinn?”
Staring at us loosely, he looked like he doesnt know what to answer to that.
“Yes, Tallinn! Yes”
“Then you need to go straight through that park.”
“How long?”
“10 minutes”
“Thank you! Spasibo! Grasias! Arividerchi”
The old man limped back on the road we directed to him.
