It was my second stay in Moscow as a tourist. Putting aside classical matriochkas, samovars, amber jewlry or wool shawls, the idea of  buying myself a russian commemorative coin occurred to me : more original, more beautiful and more…complicated.
I chose the perfect coin on the basis of the Russian Bank website, wrote down the address and, no sooner said than done, here I am in front of the yellow and white building in the city center. An imposing man stood erect in the cold like he was waiting for me and started the conversation in russian. Eager to speak the language of Pouchkine, I finally answered in the language of Shakespeare. But I quickly understood that I could not go far with him. Armed with my faithful and reliable tourist guide, I looked up the translations of “buy” and “coins”. Astonished not to find these apparent simple words, I drawn my mobile phone to appeal to my strongest weapon and ally: Alla. Alla ? We met in Toulouse for our french studies four years ago ; we`ve kept in touch since then, her in Moscow, me in Toulouse and the language of Moliere between us ; she`s my precious french kipiatilnik in the mother country`s datcha. I trust her and, indeed, it emerged that my coin could be found in another bank nearby. Once arrived, my experience recommended me to speak to young people. Because they are more likely to speak a foreign language: english, jewish or whatever. Spot on ! My target spoke a little bit english ! I explained the purpose of my presence: a magnificient coin called “Russkaia Bania”. But I quickly understood that I could not go far with him. Keeping hope alive, I went for a last attempt using simple english words and gestures. At the end of my story, focused on me, with a professional look, he merely answered: “slojna...”.
Hence the following conversation:
-    Ala ? Yes, Laurent speaking again and again ! Sorry for disturbing you but I need your help. Could you please explain that I would like a coin called “russian bath”.
-    Russian bus ?
-    No. Russian bath, bath like bathroom.
-    Laurent, which language are you speaking ? French ? English ? Both ?
-    I`m speaking english ! And I don`t want a russian bus, I want a russian bath !
While struggling and damning my french accent, I got my eyes up to the salesman and, now, the security guard, attracted by some unfamiliar sounds and unusual life within the bank. The first one was joyfully talking to one of his colleagues who was looking at me, whereas the second one was smiling while rubbing his forehead with his hand. And it seemed to me that they had understood ! Yes, they had understood that I was not able to make myself understood. In these russian quicksands, a feeling of frustation, shame and helplessness swept over me. However, after a last ditch, everything was clear: Ala and I were on line, the security guard, considering the crisis was over, began to walk away from us and the young salesman energetically headed towards an office, to finally inform me that he was sorry. You know why.
On my way home, the image of a coin appeared to me. That coin I saw in the bank behind a display case : there was a bus on it...