A medical student in Tallinn meets a young Estonian girl. Passionate love flares up between them. However, the disaster of the ferry "Estonia" separates them, as it seemed forever. But their love turns out to be stronger than death.

Now, to go to Estonia, you need a Schengen visa. And in Soviet times there was one country without borders and barriers, and to get to Tallinn it was enough to get to Moscow (the capital of the USSR), take a train or plane bound for the capital of Soviet Estonia, and even then it was believed that you were abroad.

We met at the Fox Hole restaurant. We have heard about this original Tallinn establishment for a long time. It was located in the basement of a medieval house, near the famous Vana Thomas (old Thomas) tower. Everything here was imbued with the spirit of the medieval Baltic: stone walls, flickering candles, dishes with an abundance of meat, waitresses in national clothes – all this created a pleasant cozy atmosphere. After a couple of glasses of wine, we relaxed, and when the cheerful music started, many of us started dancing.

Greetings in Estonian were heard everywhere:

– Tere (Hello)

– Tere homigut, – sounded in response.

Suddenly, a mid this Estonian polyphony, I heard:

– Why aren't you dancing? Aren't you having fun?

I turned around and by the light of the candles I could make out a young lady in narrow glasses and long red hair. She spoke very good in Russian, which was not typical for the local youth, but her correct Russian also had a Baltic accent, pleasant for my ear.

– Are you bored? Come on, I'll cheer you up quickly.

I certainly could not refuse such an invitation.

– When ladies invite gentlemen, gentlemen cannot remain indifferent, – I answered and we went to dance.

However, very soon the fast music turned into a slow romantic melody, and now we embraced and began to perform tango. Her fiery red hair exuded a subtle scent of delicious shampoo interspersed with the scent of a clean body that had just come out of the shower.

– What is your name?

Well, since we are so close that we smell each other, then it's time to get to know each other names.

– My name is Svana.

– What an interesting name. Absolutely unfamiliar to me.

– It is very rare and not Estonian at all.

– And what?

– Norwegian.

– You surprise me! Where did the Estonian get the Norwegian name? And what does it mean?

– Oh, it's a long story. Better tell me what's your name?

– My name is also unusual, already for your ear.

– Nothing, nothing. Speak. I am capable. I'll catch it.

– My name is Harutyun.

– Sounds original! Is it real Armenian?

– Certainly not Norwegian.

– And not Estonian.

We started laughing together and I realized that the acquaintance took place.

– Listen, Harutyun! Let's go sit at our table, and at the same time we'll chat about our names.

It was said so naturally that I did not dare to refuse my new acquaintance.

We came to a table at which two adults were already sitting – a man and a woman.

– Meet! These are my parents. Father's name is Alexander, and mother's name is Ingrid. Mom, dad is Harutyun. We just met him.

– Very nice! Have a seat. Would you like something to eat?

– No thanks! Not hungry. We had such a hearty lunch here.

– And a drink?

– I will not refuse.

The waitresses quickly brought me a cutlery and a glass, and Alexander poured me red wine. He was a puny bald man with pointed features and the pretty fox face of Svana resembled his father. But the red hair – it was the color from Ingrid's mother.

– Well, tell Harutyun. As I have noticed, you have come from afar and not alone, but with a campaign.

I began to tell who we are and where we are from. Svana and her father listened attentively, but Ingrid was not, and I realized that she did not understand Russian well. The confirmation of my guess was that Alexander sometimes leaned over to her and expounded what I had already said.

– Mom understands Russian very badly.

– I already understood that.

–She’s actually Norwegian.

– So that's where you got your Norwegian name!

– But my dad is Russian, although he lived in Tallinn all his life. And his surname is Russian – Morozov.

– So you are Svana Aleksandrovna Morozova. Sounds impressive, like Grieg's melody "Morning, Peer Gyunt" mixed with Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" ballet.

– Wow! And you hit the very spot and not even warm, but directly hot.

– In what sense? What do you mean?

– Let's talk about it elsewhere, in a more private setting.

I began to like Svana more and more. Her ease, smile and complete absence of the Baltic coldness was very conducive to communication.

– I'm not against. But I don't know the city, so the choice is yours.

– There is one quiet place where jazz is played. Do you like jazz?

– Not so crazy, but I like it.

– Let's go then. Mom, Dad – we disappear, don't be bored. And you say goodbye to yours company.

When we flopped into the taxi, the cars were broadcasting a cheerful Armenian song performed by a famous pop artist on the radio.

– Listen, Svana! This is a song in Armenian in my honor.

Svana listened and smiled.

– What is this funny melody about?

– About spring, about May and about love.

I noticed that the taxi driver sat there with a stone face and remained, despite the fact that his passengers were in excellent mood from the melody sounding in the taxi.

Well, this is the Estonian mentality – a minimum of emotions and feelings. I shared these impressions with Svana.

– This is a northern cold country. People here do not see the sun's rays for a long time. This is not sunny Armenia with an abundance of sunny days for you. How many of them do you have per year?

– Three hundred thirty.

– Bliss! You are just lucky!

In the meantime, we entered some cozy bar, where slow jazz music was playing and couples whirled languidly in the center of the hall.

We sat down at a table and already in normal lighting I was finally able to fully see my new girlfriend. She took off her glasses, and I saw an abundance of freckles on the face of the pretty fox. In addition to her red hair, dazzling like fire, she had a chiseled figure with a thin waist, and a full-fledged breast loomed under a tight sweater.

– You shouldn't have taken it off. The glasses suit you very much, – I said, looking into the abyss of her blue eyes, – and in general, I really like your appearance.

From these words, Svana blushed, and her face lit up with a charming smile.

– Well, you are a burning brown-haired man. I immediately noticed this when I saw it in the "Fox hole".

I took her small palms with lovely purple marigolds and began to gently warm in mine.

– What are we going to drink?

– Armenian brandy, of course, if of course they have it?

Svana asked the waiter about this and he nodded in the affirmative.

– I never drank your brandy.

– Today you will try.

Svana twirled the glass she had brought and inhaled the aroma of the drink.

– Is this the Armenian brandy? It has a heady scent.

– This is a piece of the Armenian sun.

– Which shines 333 days a year?

– Quite right.

Svana slowly, savoring every sip, emptied her glass. A pleasant burning liquid poured inside, warming our hearts and souls.

– How lovely. I wouldn't mind repeating it.

The waiter brought us two more glasses, and then another.

– So you are half Norwegian.

– Yes, and my mother gave me the name. The ancestors of modern Norwegians believed that if you give a child a nickname in honor of an animal and worship him, then it will serve as a talisman for life: a mystical connection will arise between the animal and the bearer of the name. Some of the most common female variants of such totem names were: Hrevna – "crow", Svana – "swan". So it turns out that you hit the very spot when you said about Grieg's melody and Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake.