Quiet city. Dreaming of a quiet life? Here is the most calm and quiet city in Russia. The most peaceful and safe city in the country

Just 20 years ago, Russia was torn apart by economic and military problems, and then it seemed that there were simply no calm cities in the country. Now the calmest city in Russia, as well as its closest pursuers, are trying to do everything so that citizens do not have to worry about their lives and their own health.

The most peaceful and safe city in the country

Sociologists have repeatedly conducted research to identify the calmest city in Russia. The indicators on the level of crime and the number of criminal units in the settlement were taken into account. Surprisingly, in recent years, the undisputed leader of this rating is the city of Grozny.

Despite its sad past, and the military conflicts that tore the country apart 15-20 years ago, now you can live in Grozny without unnecessary worries about your own safety. After the capital of the Chechen Republic was completely rebuilt and restored, blissful peace and tranquility was established here. The crime rate here is really low, and the locals try not to stir up conflicts once again.

The only thing that should be remembered by girls going to Grozny is that the customs of the country are very specific. Muslim culture does not allow women to walk in too revealing clothes, and one should not behave provocatively on the streets of the city, so as not to run into problems.

The newspaper "Kommersant" also conducted research on the search for the safest city in Russia. According to studies, this honorary title was given to Kaliningrad, where the crime rate was surprisingly low.

Some of the safest cities in Russia

Irkutsk, Krasnodar, Belgorod and Podolsk were also included in the list of cities most adapted for a safe and peaceful life, compiled by the Kommersant newspaper. It is believed that these cities not only have a low crime rate, but also create the best conditions for business development.

Sociological studies also place Khasavyut, located in Dagestan, on their list of the most peaceful cities in Russia. It is believed that in a small town there is practically no crime, but the unemployment rate here is quite high, which affects the general economic condition of the town.

It is also noteworthy that sociological studies have shown a low level of security in both Moscow and St. Petersburg. Both cities were not even included in the top twenty of the most peaceful settlements in Russia. Most likely this is due to the fact that due to the large number of the population, it can be very difficult to organize a full-fledged protection of citizens from criminal units. However, the high level of danger of living in the capital and St. Petersburg does not affect the popularity of these cities.

The list of the safest cities in Russia may surprise someone, but these settlements have long proved their honorary status. While it is indeed safe to live in Kaliningrad and Grozny, the overall level of criminal activity in Russia is quite high.

It seemed to Moshkin that someone else flashed on the pavement next to his own shadow. He shuddered, turned around - no one. He tightened his fingers around the plastic bag in his raincoat pocket. In this “most peaceful city on Earth” (as the posters said), they slept soundly and for a long time, it was not customary to stagger in the middle of the night. Moshkin was sweating and biting his nails. There was no client. It is not clear - to wait further or rush home, put goods in your pockets and leave. Desperately craving sweets. Moshkin thought of the sweets in the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers, and saliva filled his mouth. The body needed sugar.

Someone patted him on the shoulder. Moshkin jumped up - he did not hear the man coming up behind him. It was impossible to make out under the hood, but it seemed to Moshkin that he saw him in a local eatery. The man muttered: "I'm from Gavrila." Moshkin thrust a bag into the stranger's pocket and immediately felt a bundle fall into another pocket. Now - home, where you can lock the door and go down to the basement. Expand the package and count the sweets - did the client deceive. And then eat sweets to the full, get a box of goods from the cache and sit for a long time and examine each button. Moshkin remembered what time and on what day he scratched out each of these tiny drawings with a needle: a chick in a nest, a mushroom, or a sly cat's face. He knew exactly where he picked up each piece of wood, pebble or piece of glass, so that later he could attach a loop to them or make holes in them, paint or varnish them.

It all started with my great-grandfather. When Moshkin was little, the old man often grumbled that it was not a good thing to give people two candies a day. Only two people in the family loved sweets - great-grandfather and little Moshkin. Sometimes the old man would suddenly bring a few extra sweets from somewhere. Then the two of them climbed into the basement, ate them and examined the great-grandfather's box. It had buttons, each with a colored design or a tiny stone. “This is all that remains of my business,” sighed great-grandfather. Before the intervention, my great-grandfather had his own button shop and his own production.

Sometimes the mother gave the old man a dressing down. She locked the door to the kitchen and chastised him: “Stop teaching my son about the past. He will be just like you. The twenty-second century is in the yard, forget about business (Moshkin did not know what it was at the age of five). He doesn't need to change the world. Dreams of success are for notorious people, for neurotics, do you understand that ?! She thought Moshkin did not hear. But he stood under the door, listened and did not understand why my mother was cursing so much. And then one day my great-grandfather left - he collected his things in ten minutes, squatted down in front of Moshkin and whispered: “See you, guy. In this country, you will be happier than me." And quickly went out the door. Nobody saw him again.

Moshkin was not bothered by himself - it seemed to him that the problem was in everyone else

Since then, 15 years have passed, and Moshkin did not feel happy at all. He was angry with his great-grandfather because he didn’t really explain anything, that he talked so little about his buttons: why did he make them, why did he so want them to be beautiful and different, what kind of “business”, from who was so protected by his mother. He was also angry with his mother - for scolding her great-grandfather, for being deadly calm and sweet the rest of the time. She didn’t wake up at night, didn’t bite her nails, like Moshkin himself. They were so different from her.

It seemed to Moshkin that he did not look like anyone else. The psychotherapist said that a person cannot be somehow “not like that”, that one must accept oneself. And if something bothers you, you need to find the reasons. But Moshkin was not bothered by himself - it seemed to him that the problem was in everyone else. In the evenings, lounging on Grishkin's sofa (the devil knows why they became friends at all, probably because they lived in the neighborhood since childhood), Moshkin asked: “Do you know that you used to drink a lot of coffee? It was bought for money, and your name could be written on the cup. Grishkin replied: “But that was before the intervention. Personalized Marketing. Some unfortunate notorious person really wanted to treat everyone to his coffee and advanced with the help of these cups. I don't understand what's so interesting about it." Moshkin looked at Grishkin and saw on his face the same expression of blissful calm that his mother had.

Since his great-grandfather left, he managed to unlearn at school, and there he was told what business and wealth are. Previously, many opened their own business and sold people the necessary, pleasant things or provided services. But even then, in the 21st century, scientists found out that most successful entrepreneurs have mental disorders: they are neurotic and obsessed with ideas that the world can be remade, that one should always strive for the better, and their anxiety is transmitted to others like a bacillus. After a series of wars and international conflicts, an intervention took place, and the most peaceful of the candidates became president in the Country. His campaign consisted of the slogans "Psychotherapy - in every home", "Love yourself the way you are", etc. Psychotherapists became the most sought-after specialists, the number of crimes decreased every year, the statistics of suicides crept to zero. At the same time, artificial intelligence was introduced in factories, the need for workers disappeared. First, there was an increase in unemployment, but then the country introduced an unconditional basic income. Money has been replaced by goods. Scientists have calculated how much each person, depending on his build and lifestyle, needs sweet and starchy foods, how much protein food, how many sets of clothes he wears per year. Things gave out the same - clothes and fashionable haircuts as a way of self-expression were of no interest to anyone, people began to prefer the inside to the outside.

It seemed to Moshkin that Gavrila had always been there. He stood behind the counter of a local eatery, bringing visitors tasteless pies and soups. Gavrila was an old man, but he stood firmly on his feet. In all the surrounding cities, visitors to cafes and restaurants have long been served by robots. But Gavrila said that he wanted to serve until he died. He told the local authorities that this is the only way he feels happy, and asked not to deprive him of peace of mind. The authorities waved their hand - what can you take from him, the old man. It will work for a couple of years and die, and then a robot will be put in its place. But Gabriel did not die.

There were rumors about him: as if before the intervention, his father had a restaurant, and visitors paid a lot of money to eat in it. Gavrila started working in his father's restaurant when he was still a teenager, then Gavrila's father left, and the restaurant turned into a simple eatery, but Gavrila still worked there, now for free. They said that one day a tourist came to Gavrila's eatery and complained that the pie smelled like rotten meat. And Gavrila did the unthinkable. He slammed his hand on the table and shouted: “Did you pay so that I could buy good meat for pies?” After that, he was given a warning: this will happen again, and he will be taken away. Everyone who started loud conversations about money, success, entrepreneurial passion, luck, left somewhere for a long time. There were rumors about some sanatoriums where, during intensive sessions of group psychotherapy, these people finally got rid of the remnants of the past.

Messages began to come one after another late in the evening. First: “DO YOU HAVE THEY??? DID HE LEAVE THEM??? Second: "Tomorrow after closing, knock four times"

Moshkin's great-grandfather often visited Gavrila in the diner. When Moshkin was little, he and his great-grandfather sometimes sat there until closing time: when the doors were locked, Gavrila would get sweets and delicious, fresh pies from under the counter - such things were not served to visitors during the day. He and his great-grandfather whispered about something for a long time, while little Moshkin ate sweets. Since his great-grandfather left, Moshkin had never been to that diner, but he knew that Gavrila still worked there. Once, a year ago, after another sleepless night, he could not stand it. He came before closing, waited until the last visitor left, went close to Gavrila and whispered: "Tell me about my great-grandfather." Gavrila looked at him as if seeing him for the first time: “I hardly remember him. He left 15 years ago, but I didn’t really know him.” He turned away and began to arrange the plates on the shelves. Then Moshkin took out a tiny bundle from his bosom and left it on the table, next to Gavrilin's telephone. After that, he walked out the door.

Messages began to come one after another late in the evening. First: “DO YOU HAVE THEY??? DID HE LEAVE THEM??? Second: "Tomorrow after closing, knock four times." Third: “Do you have any more buttons? Do you still like sweets?

When there were very few grandfather buttons left in the box, Moshkin began to make his own. Now, on sleepless nights, he did not suffer from idleness, but came up with new patterns and colors, scratched patterns with a needle on small pieces of glass or wood. He met with clients at night, always pulling a hood over his head and a balaclava over his face. He handed over the goods silently, so that they would not be recognized by his voice. In the daytime, he met people on the street whose jackets had multi-colored buttons sewn on instead of factory fasteners, and he felt pride and triumph. Now he knew that his great-grandfather was not crazy, notorious and unhappy - he was a man who knew how to please others with unique, amazing things. After the intervention, he went abroad, taking all the money he earned. He probably died there. Gavrila said that Moshkin's great-grandfather was a stubborn, energetic and quick-witted person, his store was the oldest in the world. Each button had its own design, and people from abroad bought great-grandfather's products for private collections. “If you ever run away from here with a couple of THE SAME buttons in your pocket, you can sell them abroad and build your own factory with this money,” Gavrila said that evening when he agreed to tell Moshkin about his great-grandfather. Moshkin was surprised: “What does “run away” mean? Is someone holding me here?" Gavrila looked at him strangely and shook his head. He didn't answer questions at all. For example, he did not explain what would happen if he told everyone that it was Moshkin who made buttons and sold them for sweets. He said only: “Never confess to anyone. Otherwise, a sanatorium. You don't need to go there, boy." This angered Moshkin, but he still came to Gavrila once a week. Gavrila found buyers, Moshkin finally felt happy making buttons and getting sweets for it. He could eat as many sweets as he wanted, and from this he became much more calm than from meditation.

True, recently they began to look strangely at him. The governor came to the city. He stopped Moshkin on the street: “Young man, tell me, didn’t your great-grandfather keep a button shop?” More and more often, clients were late or did not come, and each time Moshkin's heart sank into his heels. He no longer wanted to hide, he did not see any crime in making beautiful buttons himself and selling them for sweets. He wanted everyone to know about him, talk about him, and often dreamed of a magical world where this was possible. There were no police in the country, laws prohibiting the wearing of buttons, too. But, according to Gavrila, if someone found out that Moshkin takes payment for his work, he would be taken away for a long time - "to where nothing will be left of you, guy." Gavrila also behaved more and more strangely. Messages often began to come from him: “Don’t come today.” Unfamiliar people hung around Moshkin's house. He started biting his nails again and didn't sleep well. One evening, Gavrila sat down very close and whispered: “If they come, run to the river. There is a border. Maybe you can go on the water. Moshkin did not understand anything, but that evening he bit the nail on his thumb to the root.

The governor came to the city. He stopped Moshkin on the street: “Young man, tell me, didn’t your great-grandfather keep a button shop?”

That night, when the client made himself wait longer than usual, Moshkin felt restless. While he was returning, it seemed to him that screams were coming from somewhere. "It's a trick of the ear," he told himself. And then I saw smoke - from the side where Gavrila's diner was. Moshkin quickened his pace - he hurried to the house, to check that it was still standing, that the basement had not been opened, and the buttons were in place. On the way, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and saw messages from Gavrila. First: "They know who you are, run." Second: Buttons. Do not forget". Third: “The great-grandfather left them on purpose. For you". Moshkin put the phone in his pocket and ran as fast as he could.

quiet calm place

Amedia is a small colorful village perched on a hilltop in the Iraqi province of Dahuk. Amedia is 1,000 meters long and 500 meters wide, while being 1,400 meters above sea level. According to legend, Persian sorcerers and priests, who were famous in the art of sorcery, lived in the vicinity of the village. It was from here, according to some researchers, that the biblical three wise men went to Bethlehem to worship and present gifts to the baby Jesus.