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I always keep a six-pack of folk beers with an alcohol content of 2.8% in the fridge, a sort of rib for my daily luxury. All this is decidedly pavlovsk. After a lifetime of open jars, I know this: the snap, the moan, the purr when the drink reaches the glass (or the steel directly against the mouth) means that freedom and liberty are here, if only for a few few hours.
To tell the truth, I am quite proud of this very Swedish semi-stoicism, which of course is not just mine, but the quiet lifestyle of many others. By not opening the door to hell (bag in the box) or the collapse of the private economy (directly imported natural wines), in Gunnar Sträng’s mock real beer, I have found a very Swedish way to enjoy the little lifetime.
Not much fun that’s right
I often think of popular beer, this Swedish drink thing, when, after being mocked by an entire planet for being cautiously nice in the midst of a pandemic, it is now entering the time of the second test. Soon Sweden, as the only country, will have to watch when the rest of the world opens up, as we remain ashamed of the outdoor seating and worried whether we really have a summer house vacation. Because if Sweden has just come out of the outside as a return to a “curious yellow” loose, many point out that order is soon restored, soon everything will again resemble Roy Andersson’s dystopia, which is Sweden’s true signature.
Perhaps Sweden as a country is the only one in the world that is mentally prepared for our very boring and colorless way of dealing with the crisis.
For example, thanks to the Danish relief in its coronary restrictions in the days, the inhabitants of Copenhagen were pleased to see Tivoli open for the summer season on June 8 and remain open until well into October. At the same time, Gröna Lund and Liseberg are closed until further notice. In Germany, you will soon be allowed to greet relatives in nursing homes. Noises on national holidays are also positive (“Germany is great,” government tourism spokesman Thomas Bareiß said recently, and did not exclude tourism in neighboring countries). Here, municipalities in western Sweden even refuse to provide care for potential summer guests. In Australia, it is planned to allow crowds of less than 100 people just before July. In Sweden, on the other hand, restrictions imposed by the Public Health Authority are formally applied throughout the year unless otherwise indicated. The government speaks exclusively of viewing the measures as a marathon. A little leap in sight.
Of course, I’m not the right person to answer what’s really the best way here: the continental attitude of getting tough with restrictions and relief or knocking everything out in perennial boredom for a long period of time. Judging by the experience in infection prevention, the result is ultimately the same: according to John Giesecke, all Nordic countries will sooner or later have the same number of deaths anyway.
But perhaps Sweden as a country is the only one in the world that is mentally prepared for our very boring and colorless way of dealing with the crisis. Since we were old enough to buy our first diluted breweries at the station, we have simply learned not to have too much fun, and to be very happy about it.
