Niagara Falls, New York.

The next stop on our route was Niagara Falls. Stepping off the bus in the town of the same name, we could only say in unison, "So this is what a godforsaken place looks like." After walking to the student hostel, the address of which was written in our US hostel guidebook, we realized that we had been "smart" enough to book two nights, which meant three days. Three days in a place where the only thing to see is Niagara Falls. There were no other attractions there. Well, it was too late to change anything, so we went to see one of the wonders of the world.

Perhaps these places are called wonders of the world because when you look at them, emotions overwhelm you from within, and words are simply unnecessary to express them. All I can write is that this place rightfully bears the proud title of one of the wonders of the world. I couldn't get enough of it. I couldn't believe it was right in front of me. We walked around the entire area along the waterfall. We watched this beauty tirelessly and couldn't stop marveling. Adding to the charm is the very interesting feeling of standing there and looking at another country, with only the waterfall separating you. And that's Canada. The woman who owned the hostel said that they turn on the lights after nine in the evening and that there would be fireworks tonight. How could we miss that? We decided we couldn't. We made it to the fireworks. There were a lot of people. They turned on the lights. It really is very beautiful. The recently white waterfall was now flowing in all the colors of the rainbow. You look at it and it's as if pink water is flowing down, then green, yellow... Sitting on a bench next to this beauty, we just admired it.

Still under the impression of the miracle we had seen, we were walking to the hostel. We had almost arrived, just had to turn and walk about 100 meters. Someone was walking behind us, but we didn't even look back. Then he ran up and started snatching the bag from the hands of my Miss Universe. He pushed her, she fell, but she still resisted. But of course, the forces were unequal, and after three heroic seconds, the bag was in his hands, and he ran toward a dark alley. I didn't even have time to understand what happened. It all happened so fast that I didn't even have time to do anything; I was just stunned. We ran after him. But even if we had caught up with him, which was theoretically possible, what would we have done? This thought swirled in my head. And we stopped, realizing the futility of our actions. He disappeared, and with him her passport, credit card, cash, a semi-professional camera bought in the States, a video camera, an iPod and a phone, tickets for our further planned trip to Boston, return tickets to New York, and everything else (girls will probably understand how important a girl's bag with everything she needs is). It was like an abyss. We were god knows where, and no one could help you. And you have to somehow build a bridge yourself to get to the other side. We ran to the hostel. The international phone wouldn't work. We didn't have any change. The hostel owner was apparently sleeping soundly; we couldn't find her anywhere. Ringing the bell was a waste of time. We had to block the card. So, in search of a phone, we ran to the nearest bar, practically next to the scene of the incident. Miss Universe stayed to call the police, and I, having exchanged change for a payphone, ran back to the hostel to call Miss Universe's mom. The payphone never worked. After about 15 minutes, it dawned on me: just send her an SMS. Everything brilliant is simple. And why didn't we think of it right away? We had to go back to the bar for my Miss Universe. It was scary, you can't imagine how much. Gathering my courage, I prepared to leave. And then my favorite coincidence... Two young men walked into the hostel. I asked them if they could walk with me to the nearest bar and explained the situation. Thank God they didn't refuse. On the way, I told them everything in detail. After a couple of minutes of conversation, we found out that we understood everything in Russian perfectly. These two brave guys were from Tyumen. For the rest of the way, talking without any language difficulties, we reached the bar, where we were told that my friend had just left with the police for the hostel. We went back. Having thanked the responsive young men for their help and wished them good night, I stayed in the hostel hallway to wait for my Miss Universe (although here she could already be renamed Miss Courage). Upon her arrival, we talked about everything that had happened and what to do next, and decided, for starters, to wait until morning.

The next morning, having not slept all night, my Miss Courage went to the police station and in search of an international payphone. When I woke up, she was already at the hostel and told me how she met a group of Russian guys, and they bought her a phone card. Discussing the previous night, we laughed at our ridiculous thoughts that visited us right after it happened. While we were running after the handbag snatcher, and I was thinking about the futility of our action, she was remembering our recent conversation about how neither of us could pass the 100-meter dash in school; later, it turns out, we both thought that we had now blown our trip to Boston and had bought a magnet from Massachusetts for nothing; while I was anxiously dialing her mom's number, Miss Courage, sitting in a police car (the officer wrote in the report: "the criminal pushed the victim so hard that her pants tore") and giving testimony, thought: "OMG, I'm just like in a movie. I've always wanted to sit in a police car." I was also amused by the fact that she was most upset not because of the lost passport and other things, but because of the photos and videos that were now lost. In this whole godforsaken place, we found only one international payphone, and even that one required buying a card, not using change as usual. Also, there was no bus terminal in this town where we could solve the problem of our return to New York. We had to go urgently to the Russian Consulate in New York. As it turned out, the nearest bus terminal was in Buffalo. Getting on a bus heading to Buffalo, we were there in half an hour. We found the terminal, started explaining our situation, to which we were told that we had to "just buy new tickets," which cost "only" $70. We had no money at all. SMS messages to our moms began. After waiting until the money was deposited on the card, we went to buy tickets. We explained the whole situation again to another woman and were simply amazed when she handed us two brand-new free tickets to New York. Quickly leaving, picking up our things from the hostel (the owner of which barely, with a squeak in her heart, let us call the consulate and showed no sympathy at all, and did not return the money for the second night we had paid for), we were already with a little relief that we had almost gotten out of this backwater where there was nowhere to even call to block your card, and went back to Buffalo for our bus to New York.