Every sandpiper praises its marsh, or Where it's good to live in Russia

Once on one of the Hawaiian beaches were close to a resident of Sochi, a Muscovite, a Rostov and a Siberian. They frowned in the sun, sipped non-alcoholic and not very drinks, they were looking for something to talk about. The first could not stand the Muscovite.

- Eh, no luck, you guys. That's like everything in Russia we live, but we in Moscow are better than you.

- Why is that? - immediately rushed south.

- We have the highest standard of living. Do not you read the newspapers? Said the Muscovite arrogantly.

- Well, newspapers are newspapers, you never know what they write. But where it is good to live in Russia, so it is with us, on the Black Sea. Waves are warm, affectionate, fruits grow from the ground. Winter never happens. It is possible and in warm countries not to go, is it so, for exotics, - did not agree the man.

- In summer +40, in the winter rains are poured: sadly, - the Siberian entered into conversation. - Here we have, if winter is like winter: snow, frost, sun. In the taiga: cones, mushrooms, animals. In the marshes - berries are different. I do not even doubt: where it is good to live in Russia, so it is with us, in Siberia. Here you have air, and ecology, - a quiet resident of the Siberian expanses spoke thoughtfully and even a little lazily.

- This is where it is good to live in Russia? - the hot rostovchanin even has risen from a lounger and has started talking loudly, emotionally. - That's right, in Sochi - the sea. Dirty, full of people. Look at this beach and remember yours. They are not cleaned at all? And hotels? The night in the hotel costs as much as a week in Egypt. But service ... - Rostovite frowned disgusted. - Yes, and the climate is not better. Okay, in the summer, and in the winter? How many times did your wires break off? Rain, slush. In Siberia, there is no summer at all, but the nasal is full. About Moscow do not say: the snobs and "glamor" of ordinary people for people do not believe. The tomato is alone, like the half-wage of a janitor. And what are your tomatoes? Chinese? With chemicals? And traffic jams? Could he? Is it the case with us, in Rostov! In summer - heat, in winter - snow, frost. In spring, from the flowering gardens, even in the center of the city, the smell is worth it. And in the autumn, and mushrooms, and fruits ... Paradise, and only. No, if it is good to live in Russia, so it is with us, in Rostov. Well, maybe in the Krasnodar Territory. But there is no winter there, - the Rostov man glanced in the direction of Sochi, whom he considered a fellow countryman the day before.

"What difference does it make where to live?" In Russia it's good. - The Siberian's calm tone somewhat cooled the southern fervor of the previous speaker. - I'm in Siberia good. I will not trade our taiga for any capital. To him, - the Siberian waved his hand towards the Muscovite, - without their clubs, without traffic jams not to live. To each his own, the Siberian turned away, as if making it clear that his opinion was definitive, and he did not intend to listen to any objections. For a few minutes there was silence. Tourists looked around. Around them traders wandered exotic souvenirs, splashed blue waves, then louder, then quieter sounded strange, multilingual, but unfamiliar speech.

"Yes, it's better to live in Russia," sighed the writer. "I'm tired of it." Exotics, ... her, - he added a strong, not at all printed word. "I want to go home, I'm sick of it." As if he was offended by someone, he rose abruptly, grabbed a towel and set off from the beach. The others looked after him in silence. Russia loved them all, and, by and large, there was nothing to argue about. Yes, and tired of all the exotic resort. I wanted to go home, to my favorite slippers and TV. So the argument was extinguished by itself.