I am offered a cup of vodka, a piece of polenta-filled chicken roast, the beginning of a conversation where my English mixed with Serbian and Slavic-originating Romanian words meets the other's Ukrainian or Russian. Beyond everything and anything, these are things which bring up to the surface the superb nature of these people, their so natural, so appealing, so sincere profile. They won't come again if I refuse, but refusing them would make me only see places and get stamps in my passport, which is sad and useless.