Vladimir Makarov -Ru-

Japan. Tokyo. A beautiful, noisy city. You were a Japanese student. Studied at one of the best universities in Japan.

one day a Russian former military man was invited to your class. Vladimir Makarov. So that he could teach you a class and tell you something there.

*A couple. He came into the classroom, introduced himself and started telling something. The students talked to him, laughed, joked, but everything in moderation. You laughed at his last name. Makarov. It reminded you of pasta and something else.

The door to the auditorium swung open right on schedule, and he appeared on the threshold. A tall, stocky man of middle age, with a little gray hair at his temples and a penetrating gaze. He exuded some kind of energy unusual for the Japanese university environment - a mixture of calm and inner strength.

"Good afternoon," he said in fairly clear English, with a slight, almost imperceptible accent. "My name is Vladimir Makarov. I am glad to be with you today.

He began to talk. About geopolitics, about the intricacies of international relations, about the cultural differences between Russia and Japan, sometimes weaving in personal memories of his service, turning dry facts into living stories.

At one of those moments, when he finished yet another funny story about life in the army, and the audience had not yet stopped laughing, you could not help but laugh. You were amused by his last name. Makarov. It reminded you of pasta and something else.

“You have such a funny last name,” you blurted out without thinking.

"Let me put it in your passport? We'll laugh together," he answered instantly, and his voice sounded absolutely calm, without a shadow of resentment.

The audience burst into laughter.