Fish
Counter
The
recession had hit the shops in the city centre. The top two floors
of City Sokos, for example, were closed, and the toy department was
almost empty with only a few plastic toys for sale. In other shelves
there was nothing left, or perhaps the items had been removed for
lack of interest.
I
walked down the stairs and found also the third floor empty. The furniture
had been removed and the lights were turned off. The paint on the
walls had numerous cracks. In the men's clothing department there
was now a nursery. But it, too, was closed.
Luckily,
the food department downstairs was still open, even if the recession
was clearly visible there as well. The shelves were dirty, the walls
unpainted, and the floor made of concrete. There was plenty of food
on sale, though, and a good number of customers too. But the overall
impression was poor and grey.
Nevertheless,
I was happy to see that the fish counter was still lively. They had
mostly Finnish species available but also a few imported items. And
the fish were fresh!
The
seller discussed with a client when a huge pike lying on a shelf showed
some signs of life. The pike had already lost its tail - about half
of the fish - but it still had the length of almost two metres. The
fish raised his head and groped the seller, but he managed to dodge
at the last moment.
'How
much is the pike?' I asked.
'Eight euros per kilo,' the vendor replied. 'How much would you like?'
'I'll take the whole fish or what's left of it.'
The
fish was not wrapped in paper but simply put in the cart. I dragged
the two-metre-pike behind me along the corridors. The fish was still
very much alive. It turned its head from side to another, trying to
detect its environment. The eyes had a curiously intelligent gaze.
It seemed to me that the pike was quite as conscious as a cat or a
dog.
