Yes, it does feel a bit like coming home. One of my feet is now stably in Sweden: the country of guys in tight jeans and girls in sweatpants, the country of messy hair, the country of happy, there-is-never-a-problem-if-you-have-forgotten-your ticket train conductors.
While waiting for my train at the train station in Nyköping, I observed a curious phenomenon:
3 young Russians
1 could be Georgian or some other Caucasian who first at the bus stop addressed me in Swedish
1 could be Central Asian something young guy with a bit Asiatic features
1 middle aged Italian who was very talkative to the bus driver in English
all these people found a common language, i.e. Russian...
I was sitting there with my book, not really reading more than 2 sentences per 10 minutes, and following this theater scene of buying tickets, changing money, helping each other... the Georgian and the Italian appeared to be extremely willing to help. And the clients/actors entered and exited the stage/station one by one
Now at home, drinking the mint tea from my garden back home in LV. Going to finish the last pages of Ayn.
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