Diagnosis of the Swedish chassis
How can you not be happy if you live in paradise? Many national majority find it difficult to answer this question, with a manic addiction looking for a thorn in someone else's eye, and also (after the tip and advice of those in whom they found these thorns) in their own too.
When Kuzma Prutkov uttered his immortal remark on how to become happy, those who were sitting farther away yawned and left the hall, and those who were sitting closer simply threw the rest of Juicy fruit without sugar and concentrated spittle at him.
In fact, many nations and peoples of the world live in such places on our planet, where even with a lot of pessimism and the presence of progressive heartburn in your body, it’s hard to ignore the fact that you live in an interesting and beautiful place.
So it is with the Swedes. How can you walk with a sour and downcast mime when you live among the giants of the cedar family, your house is on the golf course, and the house itself looks exactly the same, as if just yesterday it came out from under the hammer of skilled craftsmen who were awarded the Golden hacksaw - 2010" and got on the first pages of the review of the magazine "The best houses made of wood in Western Europe".
Today I cut through on my 2-wheeled monster among these masterpieces, listened to the birds and not weakly envied that part of humanity that had a residence permit in this area.
Green grass in the courtyards, a chic wooden forest behind the gate, a quiet breeze and an azure sky. What more could you want from life. Children ride between countless architectural delights, on well-paved paths with markings and good visibility before the turn. And most importantly, no one is building or making repairs! Silence and tranquility.
When my life was just getting back on track, I was reliving my burst of sexual energy and pimply legacy as a teen on wheels of my Soviet friend with a big name consonant with the triumph of "Salute". I traveled through the streets and poorly visible paths of the village of Inkerman, diligently collecting rusty nails on my wheels from the paths created with the help of ash and bad weather.
And I was happy. Gluing my leaky tires together with my not yet hardened palms, I only thought about how to get back on my 2-wheeled horse and roll on, despite the pits, ditches, rough vegetation and grandmothers desperately pouring another portion of ash on my traveled routes according to a precisely calculated schedule.
The Swedes, as it should be real philosophers, and here they manage to find a reason for melancholy and sadness. When I drove up to one of the fences and saw a wonderful structure made of boards and glass, which had a glass roof and simply glowed from the inside, the owner of this building became very worried and anxiously roamed around the yard, throwing pleading glances at me to quickly leave him alone.
If it is customary for us to gather in yards, sit under fences and respond to exhortations with a request to leave the territory with spitting, stupid laughter, obscenities and threats, then here they may be afraid to drive you away. But the owner will certainly develop not a frail anxiety, and if you are very persistent, then, perhaps, you will achieve discord in his good Scandinavian health, and he may even get sick from emotional experiences.
Private property is also inviolable here, as in the USA, but if there, with any flight of your shuttlecock to the territory of a neighbor, there follows an obscene cry, a jerking of the shutter, it is not clear where the double-barreled “crossbow” located in every family and an order to remove your black ass from someone else’s territory, even unless yours is black. Immediately, the inviolability of private property is inherent in the definition, and it is too tactless to remind about this, since everyone already knows about it. Therefore, it is defended by proud silence, as well as prayers to the Almighty.
The most interesting thing is that I have not seen almost a single old car here. No Ford escorts, Mazda 626, Opel Vectra and diesel Mercedes. Solid new in different sizes, but directly salon condition. And how can one not be upset by such facelessness?
Let the Swedish women throw stones at me, depart with well water and warm hands, and then throw them again, but I will not call them attractive. Moreover, I did not notice a sufficient number of young individuals here. If they were in Stockholm, then mostly visitors, and even in the outback they are not, and even more so. It seems that they all made a contract with Satan and exchanged their sad souls for a good shape and a strong ass. After all, from afar they are all quite slender and fit, and when you drive closer, your face boldly betrays the fact that they have clearly forgotten their 16th birthday, since 30 years have passed since that moment.
Outwardly, they are very similar to the type of our Soviet man in the street. We have this type. Thin, slender, sinewy and moderately elderly specimens, living mainly in garages and eating preferably vodka and all in the same garages they are talking about, not into horse food, and on which a washed T-shirt hangs much better than from linen hangers. A long-extinguished cigarette butt in the mouth serves as a toothpick.
In general, if you are a fan of ripe forms, soft outlines and rainbow smiles, then I have to disappoint you, as they will offer you here - a thin and very slender body with no visible secondary sexual characteristics of the 3rd size, with a purposeful practical look. Moreover, it seems that they spend 50% of their free time jogging.
So here we are with my 2-wheeled friend and comprehended the truth of the Swedish lifestyle in the viewable city of Ahus. This is a resort city of great proportions. Something like a giant recreation center. And there is here, both the private sector and camping sites. I was struck by the location of the campers on the territory of these parking lots. I never understood how you can take a break from people among people. In my school and institute period, it was popular with us to go hiking in the village of Peredovoye. So to speak, swim, go fishing, drink inexpensive alcohol and have a snack on undercooked buckwheat and wild pears. But we tried to always avoid weekends. Since you arrive on Thursday, you will enjoy the silence and primitiveness of the forest, and on Friday annoying neighbors already step over you, offer to change canned food for vodka and steal your firewood. When you go down to the lake in the evening, it is lit from all sides by bonfires so that, against the background of motley cries, you imagine yourself in some kind of pioneer camp, and certainly not an inhabitant of wild flora and fauna.
So here, the buses stand in tight rows to each other, as in a paid parking lot, neighbors go to each other without changing clothes, and if someone yelled at someone, then, in principle, everyone already knows who and who.
But let's leave these joys to the "poor" Swedes, and we ourselves will longingly envy the green oasis in which they were registered by leading personalities when settling in such a hostel as the planet Earth.
