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‘So if you’re not coming along, give us your phone numbers and we’ll get in touch,’ Blondie finished Tanya’s thought in a hurrying voice.

A moment of silence stood within the Germans staring at each other in bewilderment.

Mr. Curly Hair blurted out, ‘I thought GUYS are supposed to take girls’ phone numbers’.

Everyone burst out laughing. The thought ‘When you make up your mind to ask for our phone numbers, sweet hearts, we’ll be already heading back home to Russia to drink tea out of samovars in frosty winters with valenkis on,’ was distinctly read in the Russian laughing eyes.

Finally, the phone numbers were exchanged, and the females headed towards the having-fun rest of the eve.

The next day they met, Mr. Curly Hair was ten minutes late. Who said that Germans were punctual? Raise your hand!

Hungry, so hungry everyone was. Walking the district in circles they finally managed to pick an Italian pizza place and share two Margaritas and one Diabolo pizza.

‘Geee, it’s so damn spicy,’ said Tanchik breathing like a locomotive.