How good it is in the Swedish province
Akhous is a wonderful place on a provincial scale. That same small town that combines a huge golf course studded with coniferous giants and the construction of prohibitively expensive summer houses of Swedish financiers. Its predisposition to the beach with the presence of a sandy sloping shore along the entire coast makes it a tasty summer morsel for any Swede who owns a car, a bicycle, or friends who own one or two. But now the city is resting. There is no noisy crowd here, no social hangouts, no general educational activity.
The tourist center with the city museum under one roof was promised to open in mid-April. The plant of mega-vodka "Absolut" also decided to keep the guides for warm times. So the only attraction at the moment is the ICA supermarket. Another nearby object of attention is in the city of Kristianstad, which is 20 km inland.
20 km did not attract with its accessibility, so I went to the supermarket. Prices that did not shine with adequacy did not cause appetite. Eyes glided only on sale ads and shelves with fruit. On one of them, I found a couple of mangoes and pineapples. Today they were given for 10 crowns apiece, but for pineapples there was also some kind of Swedish postscript. Realizing that a pineapple for 10 crowns would not be given to any passer-by, I nevertheless advanced with him to the cashier. At the checkout, in an ingratiating voice, he asked how much they would charge me for him. A lady in her early forties easily supported my English slang and explained that the price was for members only. After feigning disappointment and a scheduled tear, I slowly moved to put the pineapple back on the shelf. But the lady reacted instantly.
Calling to a nearby employee of the mall, she quickly oriented her back to the forest, and to us in front, and asked her to use the loyalty card. After the operation, the saleswoman conspiratorially winked at me and accepted the money.
I didn't stop at the supermarket. Having successfully made purchases, I decided to indulge in loitering along the boundaries of the settlement, which at any moment threatened to turn into a forest belt. Immersed in the sun, the city continued to be Scandinavian cold, so a hat and sunglasses helped me travel comfortably. Having moved to the other side of the river, I went to take a look at the expensive houses of local wealthy peasants.
Smoothly cut lawns, bright whitewashed houses, and neat street layouts of masterpieces of simplicity and aesthetics always make me think of abolishing old methods of dacha farming and applying learned landscape design methods to my parents' dacha. Revolutionary ideas about uniformly planting a plot with green grass, installing a forged gate and laying paths with gravel and granite tiles, crumble to smithereens after a two-week stay in the homeland. The harsh reality calls for improving the old wiring, taking out the trash, digging up a landing site, and eventually acquiring a stabilizer. Moreover, they say that after the change of chairman, there is a threat of a rolling shutdown of water taps from the water supply system! What kind of grass and forged gates are there when there is such a thing around. So while I'm here, I allow myself to dream enough.
Having visited the central patch (it’s hard to call it an area) of the city earlier, I saw an inscription on a nondescript stall in the spirit of “puff pastries” and “Opening on March 29! ". Not attaching importance to an ordinary stall with a couple of summer tables, I freed up space in my head for more interesting details. But what was my surprise when today near this stall I saw a queue of about 40 people. Firstly, according to my calculations, this is a quarter of the city's population, and secondly, why are they crowding for pies. This is what the lack of supply in the market does to people. Although I may simply not understand the logic of thinking of the Swedish provincial.
On the same square there is a mighty-looking church of a name unknown to me, but beauty that I understand. There was nowhere to get special information about her, and to poke your nose into church affairs during the service with your tactless “what are you doing here? I didn't dare.
Before returning, I decided to make a couple more circles along the sun-drenched pavements and forest paths, distant from them by the branch of the Helga River. The forest most often beckons with an atmosphere of calm and melancholy, while the city smoothly returns to reality. It is a pleasure to maneuver between them, combining such a drift with gatherings by the river and lengthy discussions on the correctness of the path of human development. Just a couple of hours is enough to rest your body and soul and update the body's anti-virus database. After that, you can again return to the battle for a place in the sun and for the size of its rent. Life goes on, and with it the ability of any person to build their own personal paradise and a four-lane highway to the feeling of the highest pleasure from life.
according to owntrip. net. ua
