A journalist goes to the far end of Russia to report.
Arrived in a small isolated village, he sees an old man and asks him:
- Can you tell me your most beautiful memory?
The old man smiles and begins his story:
- it was a day, a very long time ago, my goat had gone astray in the mountains. As was the tradition, all the men in the village had gathered to drink vodka and go in search of the goat. When finally we found it in the early morning, as is the tradition, we still drank vodka and all the men of the village hit the goat one by one. What could we have laughed.
The journalist tells himself that this story is difficult to publish and asks the old man to tell another story, perhaps a little less rude.
The old man smiled again and said:
- One day, my neighbor's wife got lost in the mountains. As is the tradition, all the men from the village got together to drink vodka and go looking for it. As is the tradition, when we finally found it, all the men of the village hit the neighbor's wife. We had a lot of fun.
The journalist is not yet convinced and questions the old man:
- You would not have a sad story?
The old man looks dark and begins:
- One day, I lost myself in the mountains ...