Juni

1st of June. Pinch, punch, and all that. It means that my time in the kingdom of Sweden has now spanned through 4 months (even though the actual time overall only adds up to 2 and a half months).

In other news, I sold my guitar back to the shop today, which was very sad. No more playing and singing for the next week. I'm very happy though, that I managed to sell it back at quite a reasonable price. I bought it originally for 550kr (£42.30) including a flimsy case for 100kr. The guy at the shop wrote on the receipt that I could sell it back to them for 40-50% within 2 months. So I was preparing myself for the worst case scenario - that they'd give me 40% of only the guitar (not the case), which would get me 180kr (£13.85), or maybe even a bit less if they noticed that one of the strings was a bit... eroded. But the guy (not the same one who sold me the guitar), just took it out of the case, gave it a quick look, and immediately gave me 50% back of the guitar+case - 275kr (£21.15). So I'm pretty happy with that. I had to give my phone back to Carolien (my Swedish phone that is - I still have my English phone), meaning that I've essentially saved 200kr (£15.38) on credit which I had already budgeted for. So those two little profits are almost enough to pay for my ticket to go to the Canterbury summer ball. So yay!

Argument

So recently, as I believe I've mentioned a few times, there have been a lot of people coming into our kitchen who don't live here. Mostly (OK, completely) they've been friends of the Chinese people. Now, let me just make this clear - yesterday, I complained about one guy having his friends in there and them cooking together. Even though I complained, and they made it smell horrible for an evening, this is still fine - he was with them, cooking and eating with them, there was nothing actually objectionable about what he was doing. But the other Chinese guy, Rui, is being more of a... how should I put this? A dickhead, about things. Friends of his keep coming into our kitchen, and cooking and eating, when they don't live here; I consider this that much more objectionable when Rui isn't with them. Essentially, they're just randomers using our kitchen. Today, two of them were in there, a guy and a girl, cooking a meal without Rui; Carolien, Janneke and I were sitting on the sofa watching the TV, deciding whether or not to say anything. Then the guy took my chopping board which I had left underneath my cupboard, and started using it. So I'm like:
"Hey, wait - that's my chopping board"
He apologised.
So I said, "Do either of you actually live here, by the way?"
The guy: "Oh no, I live downstairs."
Me: "Oh right... so why are you here?"
The guy: "We're revising for an exam in 2 days."
It was at this point that Janneke got up to start questioning him. Janneke is quite similar to Juliette (sporty, argumentative, Dutch? Yeah, it might as well be Juliette). And she was really going at him, saying "It's just a bit strange that you're here - why don't you cook in your own kitchen? I mean, I'm not saying it's you, but food has been going missing recently; we've had a lot of people that don't live here coming in and using the kitchen. It's just a bit strange that's all. Why don't you go and cook in your own kitchen?"
The guy's answer was "I don't want to."
Also, with Janneke's aggressive questioning, she managed to find out that Rui doesn't even live there anymore, and that he's given his key to the girl. But no one had told us that - from our point of view, we've just had a lot of random people on our floor And stuff really has been going missing recently as well. Apparently, Rui went on holiday about a month ago, and some other guy was in his flat; and that other guy was inviting his friends round. So like, there's just been this network of random people that no one knows, using up our space and utensils.
In stark contrast, a new guy has moved into Dmytro's room (who left earlier this week), and as soon as he got here, he introduced himself to us, and let us know that he was the guy living in Dmytro's room now.

Not Fun

So like, I've got to do this long-ish Stockholm assignment (about 3,000 words) by Wednesday June 6th, cos that's when mum comes (it's actually due in the next day, so it doesn't make a huge amount of difference). Then, we fly back to England on June 9th, and I've got to be in Canterbury on the 11th, to hand in the English journal (which totals 4,400 words) and the Professional Studies thing (which I guess is about 1,500 words, since I can use this Stockholm assignment for part of it). So in one week, I need to have written 9,000 words. Is it me, or is that actually pretty unfair? No, no, it's not been my laziness this time! There literally has not been any other chance to do them - I had 3 Canterbury assignments and a Stockholm presentation due in the day Tamsin came; she stayed for 4 days, then the day after she left, I started placement, which only finished 2 days ago. So really, I've not had the chance to do this work. I e-mailed the Stockholm people asking for an extension, saying everything I just said there; their response? "You can hand it on on June the 9th instead of the 7th if you want". Well, since I'm leaving on June 9th, and I'll probably spend a fair part of the 8th packing and cleaning my room, that's actually not an extension at all. I e-mailed saying that, and they've given me until the 15th. Which is good of them, I guess, except that between the 11th-15th, I'll be in Canterbury going to pointless lectures and seminars there as well. I don't have too much right to complain either, because I think I've preeetty much been given the same amount of work as everyone else in Canterbury - it's just been spaced out MUCH worse for me. Also, I've been on a 3week placement, while in Canterbury they've had 2 lectures a week, and then this week off. Oh, and the reason I'm not asking Canterbury for an extension on all this? I got 2 extensions on the last set of assignments; again though, with good cause - one week cos of going to the hospital, and another week for getting 3 weeks less holiday than my peers. Still, I don't want to push it.

So anyway, I'm trying to do this work, and the drilling starts again. I'm starting to wonder if I'm imagining it, because I ONLY hear it when I need to get stuff done. I'm pretty hungry at the moment. I went into the kitchen to get a snack, but the Chinese guy (the one who cooks eggs in black liquid, and defrosts swine limbs in the sink) is in there with some friends. Predictably, they've taken up the whole kitchen, cooking foul-smelling food. The offensive smell though, is nothing compared to the outrageous ugliness of his compatriots. I suppose I should admire the sense of community, but really - get out of my kitchen, you're aesthetically displeasing, and I'm hungry.
In the end, I had 3 satsumas. I'm still hungry.

EDIT: They had already been cooking for a good 30 minutes when I posted earlier. It's more than 2 hours later, and they're still not even eating. Why won't they leave?

Haircut

So I went through with it, and got myself a haircut from this Nicole woman who advertised in the lift. She wasn't very talkative, but I should maybe have guessed that from how she textededed: "you r wellcome at 18 pm tomorow at strix armegatan 32.apt 107.nicole" (Strix is another name for this building - no idea why). She was an Indian woman, and no matter how hard I tried to create SOME form of dialogue, she resisted quite wilfully and rather impressively. After a while, I just gave up and sat in silence. She used quite a strange word to describe how she could cut it; I think it was 'decent'. "You could look like a decent guy, like this." Looking 'decent', basically involved looking like a twat; i.e. having my hair in a side-parting like an 80s businessman. A bit like this guy: http://support.vsm.net/businessman%20181.gif. Also, she waited until about halfway through to tell me that I was the very first man whose hair she had cut. So how did it turn out? Well (Tamsin, look away now), the front is pretty short, showing off my gargantuan forehead. Apart from that, it looks fine. Maybe not as good as Shane or Sarah would have done it, but no one will see it for 2 weeks, and by then it'll have grown a considerable amount. Still, at £8.46, it's the most expensive haircut I've ever paid for. That mad Italian "You say you want spaghetti, but you no want spaghetti?!" man charged £7.50. If you don't know what I'm talking about then... well, good.

In other news, y'know that annoying advert for hair dye with Davina McCall? The one where she's calling her mum? They have that same advert here, but with an annoying Swedish celebrity. Pernilla something. It's strange watching it, and feeling a familiar irritation.
Also, I had a nosebleed on Monday, and since then, there's been blood on the tissue every time I've blown my nose. I've also been feeling kinda ill since Tamsin was here - never terribly sick, just always with a bit of a sore throat and a bit of a sniffle.

This week, on 'Tim In Sweden':

Sorry I haven’t updated much recently – fortunately, it’s because I’ve actually been busy and gone out doing stuff, so it’s been good. On Monday, I had to stay for an extra 2 and a half hours after placement, to go to a staff meeting. It was all in Swedish, so it was completely pointless for me to be there. I just sat there trying not to fall asleep.

On Tuesday, I went to the University pub with Camilla – the idea was that we’d invite the people we like from our class, but we left it too late and in the end, everyone was busy. But we didn’t find that out until we were already there. Still, it was alright, Camilla’s a good person; we managed to have a conversation that wasn’t about death or mutilation, which is the first time that has happened.

On Wednesday, I went to a gay café (say it out loud, it’s fun) with Carolien and Janneke, to try out this white chocolate cheesecake that they said had looked nice. And... it was rubbish. Well, it wasn’t TERRIBLE, but it was too creamy – it was a HUGE slice, and was basically like eating a mountain of whipped cream on a biscuit. It was just too much, I couldn’t finish it. But it was in a really nice area in Gamla Stan, so I could probably go there with mum; it was quite a nice café, but we didn’t go inside – it was warm enough to sit outside, even at 8pm.

On Thursday, the international committee from Uni organised a trip to Gröna Lund – a theme park on Djurgården. It was really cool, the international committee paid for us to get in, and then paid for our booklets of tickets, which you use to play the games and go on rides and stuff. Obviously, I didn’t go on any rides, but they have an excellent Fun House and a really good Haunted House. The teacher of the class I’m in at pre-school said she’s genuinely scared of the haunted house there, and won’t ever go back in. I would show pictures, but my camera won’t upload to the computer; I don’t know if it’s a problem with the camera, the lead, or the computer, so I’ll have to wait until I’m home. I think it might be the camera, because I dropped it a few weeks ago. It means I’ve got a backlog of pictures on the camera since before Tamsin was here.

On Friday, yesterday, I went to this gorgeous outdoors pub thingy with Camilla and a few others, including one of her friends who I met last week. This place was really nice, and it felt so summery; you have to walk up quite a lot of steps to get there, but you end up with a nice view, overlooking Gamla Stan and Djurgården. Again, would have pictures, but... I managed to get an OK whiskey.

Not much has really happened today. The most exciting thing is that some old man knocked on Rui’s door, then when Rui opened the door, the man shouted “TWO-THIRTY!” and walked in. It was quite strange. Also, I saw a homemade advert in the lift, by a girl advertising cheap haircuts, in this building. I’ve textededed her enquiring about one – that’s a bad idea, isn’t it? I mean, if this haircut turns out badly, it’s not like I’m gonna say “How surprising, it was such a professional advert!” The advert, by the way, was just a printed word document saying “Cheap haircuts in Armégatan 32” then a quick run through of prices (including ‘eyebrow threading’ and ‘whole face threading’, if anyone wants to tell me what the hell that might be?) and her phone number. I would wait until I get home, but I just look so rubbish at the moment.

Anyway, that’s been this week! For the next week and a half, I have lots of assignments to be getting on with; then mumsy arrives, and then I leave a few days later.

Flatmates

As I look out of my window at 11am, watching the flurry of dandelion seeds blowing about in every direction across the sky, it crosses my mind that I haven't really talked much about the people I'm living with. Just to set the scene - everyone's room is en-suite, and we all share a kitchen.

Mohsin - A CREEPY guy from Bangladesh; if you walked into the kitchen and he was there, he'd just stare at you. You'd say "Hi", and he would just continue to fix you with his cold, hard stare. I don't think he was a psycho, it's just how he was. Although, saying that, one girl told me that she went to the police about him because he "showed part of his body" to her friend. Mohsin moved out 2 weeks ago, and a Swedish guy moved in, in his place; I can't remember his name though. Mohsin, by the way, is not to be confused with...
Mahshid - An outrageously attractive girl from Iran. She's only ever in the kitchen to make cups of coffee - I've never seen her make or eat food. Her family were down a week or two ago, including a girl who I guess is her sister - and I thought this sister was Mahshid, and started talking to her, until she said "Oh... I don't live here" - I was thoroughly confused.
Dmytro - I've mentioned him a few times; he's nice, chatty and Ukrainian. He can speak Ukrainian, Russian, Polish, English and Swedish fluently, and he's learning Norwegian now. Although, Norwegian and Swedish are pretty similar - I saw a thing on TV with a Norwegian singer, and as usual it had the subtitles in Swedish; for the most part, it looked like she was just singing what was written, except for a few words. The only difference between the languages that I know, is that in Norwegian, they use ø, where in Swedish they use ö (pronounced like the 'ur' in 'hurt' - which I think can be written Englishly as ə).
Rui - A Chinese guy who is nearly impossible to understand. He's had a friend down for about a month now, and that friend is now inviting friends round. Which I think is a bit annoying when they're using our kitchen - Rui's friend and his friend were cooking a meal yesterday, without Rui, and I was like "Hang on - do either of you actually live here?" I didn't say it out loud though.
Shen - A Chinese girl, who is perfectly pleasant. She's the one, in fact, who told me that she complained about Mohsin.
Carolien and Janneke - I'd love to put them individually, but I wouldn't be able to say enough about either of them. They're the two Dutch girls; they're both really nice, I probably talk to them the next most, after Dmytro (the next most? Is that a phrase?)
Kenan - He seems kinda scary, but he's alright; he's lived in Sweden for 15 years, but he's originally from Bosnia&Herzegovina (he didn't specify which one...), and doesn't really talk that much.
Viktor & Andrew - They shared a room, cos Andrew needed somewhere to stay for a while. Viktor is from Nigeria, and Andrew from Ghana - Andrew is the one who went with me to the hospital. They moved out about a month ago, to be replaced by...
Some Guy - Absolutely no idea what his name might be. He's Chinese as well, and he seems alright, but he cooks the most ridiculous meals. I say meals, but really I mean feasts - he'll always have like, a whole pig's leg defrosting in the sink; one time he was using 7 of the 8 available hobs in our kitchen. And the one thing he does more than anything else, is put eggs in black liquid in a saucepan, which he then leaves on a medium heat for around 5 hours. Maybe more, come to think of it. It's so horrible, it smells disgusting, and stinks out the whole kitchen. But the weird thing? I never see him eating anything. Oh yeah, I also feel like I have beef with him cos of the cleaning rota - it's one person's duty to clean the kitchen for a week; if it's your turn, you have to clean the hobs and the floors and empty the bins, and you get a little piece of paper stuck to your kitchen cupboard door, to remind you (we each have our own individual little cupboards, with locks). It was his turn last week, and for the last two days he's let the bins fill up without emptying them - then this morning, he put the cleaning rota thing on my door, meaning it's my responsibility to do it.

Anyway, that's that - I'll talk about my craaaazy classmates at a later date - Camilla told me that she found this blog, by googling my name, which I've only just realised is potentially frightening. Time to see what "Camilla Segerlund" throws up. And in fact, there are two pictures on the image search - she's in one of them, but I'll let you guess which one...

Camumu

So after complaining to a fair few people that I've not met anyone, and I have nothing to do here, Camilla from Uni (who I have humorously, and affectionately nicknamed 'Camumu') textedededed me this evening to say "Hey, are you still coming to that free concert?" Seemed I'd completely forgotten about the free concert she mentioned on Moodle (Moodle being the laughably-named internet forum our Uni uses. Like Blackboard, Canterbury people), which heavily featured an inordinate amount of awful Swedish pop music. Still, it was free (that's the 3rd time I've said that in this post, I need another word. 'Priceless' should mean 'free'), and it was nice to go somewhere, and to see people. Hopefully we'll do something on Tuesday as well, and her friends who were there tonight were talking about going to a pub on Friday. I'll feel fully satisfied with my trip to this country if I can go out a few more times in the remaining 3 weeks. That's mental, only 3 weeks to go; it's not that long at all. Although, it does seem like an age ago that I was living with E in Newham, and it seems like a different time entirely that I was sharing a house with D and A. I'm looking quite forward to being back in England again, partly to see people, but mostly (let's be honest here) to get myself some good cheesecake.

Not Much To Say

Paying that hospital bill was pretty easy - I just went to the Svensk Kassaservice (Swedish Cashier Service) which are little places dotted all over the city where you can pay your bills, for a cost of 49kr (£3.77). All I had to do, was show them the bill, give them the money, and that was that. It didn't matter at all that I was paying it a few days late. Similarly, Dmytro said he has paid his rent here late a few times, and there have been no repercussions.

Placement has been pretty good; I'm in Grodan (frog) group, where the children are 3years old. Some of them are so cute, and they have very Swedish names like Irma, Erling and Arvid. I've been trying to speak Swedish to them, which is easiest at meal times (speaking of which, I get lunch for free there - last Friday, I told one of the teachers that I liked the pizza, so she told the cook lady, who gave me a whole pizza's worth of leftovers to take home), because I know how to say "Would you like some milk? Would you prefer this one, or this one? Here you are".
They play with the same train track I had when I was little, which is quite funny. One child, Anton, goes MENTAL if you touch the track while he's playing with it. In fact, he gets really stressed, quite easily at pretty much anything, and just starts screeching. It just makes me laugh. Like, he'll ask you to put a tape on, so he can listen to a story, and then if he can't quite hear it, he just goes "AAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!" and his face goes really red. But he'll calm down instantly if he gets what he's after.

There's not really much else to say. I mean, not many interesting things have happened. I blame the international committee, because they haven't organised a single thing since I've been here. And there are only 5 people in my class that are my age, and 4 of them live really far away, so it's not that easy to arrange to do something.

Insurance

So after the whole insurance-cover-starting-a-month-later-than-it-was-meant-to fiasco, I've realised that I still haven't actually paid my hospital bill from last month. Which is now officially a problem, because the bill says they wanted to be paid by 2 days ago. I wrote my England address on the thing, so family - you may get an angry Swedish letter demanding money in the next few days. And then if I don't pay, I guess they'll come and take my thumbs; and then I'll have to go back to the hospital to receive treatment for that, and then if I don't pay for that visit, then the whole vicious cycle continues...

Other Stuff

Also - much thanks to everyone who sent me cards and presents; they all arrived a few days after my birthday, and were very appreciated.

I'm on placement now and will be for the next 3 weeks or so. I get lunch for free (which I'd previously been told didn't exist), so that is nice. I'm also having to talk Swedish, because the children only speak and understand Swedish. All I can really do at the moment are basic "What is your name? What is that?" phrases.

Also, on the train, there was an advert which started off saying 'Hallå där', which I guess means 'Hello there'. It's pronounced 'Hallor dair' - say it out loud. Go on, say it, and try telling me you're not actually just saying 'Hello there' in an Irish accent.

'Mon the Biffy!

Getting to the gig was no problem in the end; just got the tube and bus, and that was that. The venue was quite small – it had a standing area at the front, and loads of seats at the back. My ticket was for sitting in one of these seats at the back, but once I got in, I noticed that it didn’t matter at all if I was sitting or standing – there was no one regulating it (don’t worry, I don’t consider it stealing – there was no difference in price between sitting and standing). Biffy Clyro got right into the swing of being in Sweden, starting promptly at 7:30. I literally walked into the venue as a small cheer went up, and the opening of ‘57’ started; and then I just went straight to the standing section – I’m not sitting down for Biffy Clyro and Bloc Party, that would be pointless.
Anyway – the setlist (for those who may be interested):
57
Who’s Got a Match?
Saturday Superhouse
Love Has a Diameter
Get Fucked Stud
Now I’m Everyone
The Kids From Kibble and the Fist of Light
Living is a Problem Because Everything Dies
Glitter & Trauma

Surprisingly, nothing from Vertigo of Bliss; unfortunately, no Wave Upon Wave Upon Wave; depressingly, only a 30-minute set. Literally, only 3 people were there to see Biffy – they were the only people really getting into the songs, and they knew all the words to the stuff that hasn’t been released yet. A lot of people cheered when they said “This is our last song”. Still, they played well (especially the new stuff), and it makes me want to see them again. When Bloc Party started, it was like being at a different gig – suddenly the venue filled up, and everyone was interested in the music. I somehow got pushed pretty much right to the front, which was cool. I’m not gonna write the set-list – they played for an hour and a half, and pretty much played everything from both albums. They were really good, but by the end, I just wanted a drink of water. To be honest, I was mainly there to see Biffy anyway.

Between the two bands playing, the venue blasted out ultra-cool tracks like ‘Something Kinda Ooh’ by Girls Aloud, and that Li’l Chris song that goes ‘Ch-ch-ch-checking it out’; behind me, two girls were singing along, and one of them said something like “I shouldn’t know the words to this” and I turned round to say “You should be ashamed of yourselves”. Then I thought “Hang on...”, turned round and said “Wait – are you English?” One was from Liverpool and the other from Brighton; I talked to them for a short while, but I can’t really remember what about. And after the gig, I had to wait an hour for the bus (it was a bank holiday, so the buses came every half an hour – obviously the first one got packed out cos everyone had JUST BEEN TO A GIG), but that was alright, cos I just chatted to some people who were waiting for the same bus.

Anyway, that was that – in conclusion, it was a lovely gig.

My Birthday

As luck would have it, the Universities round here have a big celebration to mark springtime arriving. Tomorrow there will be huge bonfires, and last night there was the annual pubcrawl. Although, it wasn’t really pubs, so much as different Universities (there are 19 in Stockholm, the city of Unis) having big parties. It was all a strangely organised and traditional event; it started at 5pm at my Uni, and I had to pay 50kr (about £3.80) to get in. The 50kr bought me a nice little festival-style green wristband, which allowed me free access to the rest of the pubs and the buses between them. So yeah, I went around 5:15, got my wristband, and bought one of their ‘famous sandwiches’ – basically a huge steak & salad sandwich. That must have been well filling, thinking about it, cos I didn’t eat anything for another 8 hours, and even then, I could have gone without what I had. Anyway, I sat down with my steak sandwich and... ate it. Alone. I was expecting there to be SOMEONE that I had even seen before. But literally, no one at all. And come on, we all know me – I’m not the sort of person who’s gonna try and infiltrate a group of complete strangers. But it wasn’t all bad – generally, if someone says ‘Hej’ to me, I try to say ‘Hi’, rather than ‘Hey’, so they know I’m English. So when I was buying my gigantic sandwich, I said ‘Hi’, and a guy next to me (whose eyes were the EXACT same colour as Tamsin’s. It stirred up strange feelings) told me that that is Swedish for ‘shark’. Actually, he didn’t say shark, he said something like “creature, that moves through water and bites people!” And yeah, the girl serving me the sandwich talked to me for a little bit as well. Anyway, a bit later on, he saw me sitting there on my larry lonesome, and came and talked to me again; he then said he was going inside, so I went with him, and the sandwich girl was there, so I talked to her for a bit. Then she said “Hold on a sec”, and went and got a TV, a PlayStation and that dancing mats game. I tried playing it for a short while, but I failed miserably. I’ve never played it before, or now that I think about it, even seen it being played. But to me, it’s just like Donkey Konga with your feet. So, a worse version of Donkey Konga.

Anyway, by this time it was about 7pm (I missed out about an hour or so where I sat by myself), and I... found some familiar faces! No one from my class was there, but some American girls were. I don’t know if I talked about them before – I met them the second night I was here, cos three of them had a birthday. I can’t remember how many of them there are overall – they’re all from Texas, and look exactly the same; they’re so typically American, it’s unbelievable. One of them actually asked someone if they wanted a ‘brewski’. Speaking of alcoholic beverages – they were only selling beer and cider at 5pm, so I opted for a cider. Boy was that a mistake. It was a disgusting, sweet, pear cider, and it was simply horrible. Hang on, I’ve lost the thread of this part of the story – yeah, saw the American girls, and they said I should hang out with them, so I did. Pretty much as soon as I saw them though, someone with a megaphone came over and said that the first bus was here. So, we went and got the bus. These were just the normal public transport buses, except inside they were filled with balloons and... can’t think of the words to describe. Colourful papers, hanging across the ceiling, anyway. And every seat had a songsheet of traditional Swedish drinking songs. This is what I mean about it being strangely organised and traditional. Oh yeah, how could I have forgotten – all the Swedes were wearing purple jumpsuits, covered in random stitched-on badges; this is also some tradition, but I don’t really know what it’s about; but basically, more badges indicates more nights of drunkenness. It’s a shame I didn’t take my camera.

The next place was Karolinska Institutet, which is the University part of the hospital I went to a few weeks ago. This place was like the first Uni, except it had karaoke. I asked at the bar if they had whiskey, but they didn’t; so I asked for cider again, expecting that what they gave me at my own Uni was some sick joke. Turns out that cider in Sweden, really is for people who have no tastebuds. I can’t really think of anything else that was particularly remarkable about this place, except maybe that some guy did a lovely rendition of Hit Me Baby One More Time. Lovely as in humorous. We stayed there for about another 2 hours, so I think we missed a few buses to other places. At some point between 9-10pm, we got the bus to... somewhere else. This was a tiny little pub, but it was quite nice. I ordered a whiskey, and the woman said “what sort?” I asked what they had, and she showed me a box with about 9 different bottles. None of them were Bell’s or Jack Daniels, so I took the chance to try something new, and said “I don’t mind.” So she gave me a ‘Jameson’. Jameson smells like coconut, and tastes like crap. At least, it does according to the note I left on my phone, to remind myself never to purchase it again.

We stayed there for a little while, then walked to the next place, which was actually more of a club. Being the old man that I am, I just wanted to sit down. There was a girl sitting down at a table by herself, but there was only one empty chair next to her, and that chair was between her and the wall. After a few minutes, I turned around and she wasn’t there, so I sat down on the chair next to the wall; I put my coat on the other chair, to save the table for the Americans, who were at the bar getting drinks. Not long after, the girl came back, so I said to her “Oh wait, did I steal your seat?” She said “Not a problem”, so I moved my coat and she sat next to me. She was really chatty, which was nice, cos it would have felt quite awkward just sitting next to a stranger silently. Her name was Lina, and she was studying English (she’s Swedish, by the way); she talked English English, rather than American English as most Swedes tend to do. For about a second, I mistook her accent for that of a real English person thingy; she was really pleased when I told her that. We chatted away for quite a bit, mostly about the Government (which is strange cos I never talk about the government), trying desperately to hear each other over the increasing volume of the music. After a while, some of her friends came along, so she went off with them; but before she left, she told me that there were taps at the end of the hall where one could easily get a free cup of water, and for this she will always be remembered.
By the time she left, the Americans were all sitting down at the next table, so I went back and joined them. At about 11:30pm, I thought that I should get a nice drink to have for when I would turn 21, and also to eradicate the memory of that Jameson whiskey. So I went to the bar, asked for a whiskey and he apologetically said “Sorry... all we have is Jim Beam.” I said this was fine, and bought it anyway. It wasn’t until I started drinking it, that I realised why he apologised. Simply put, the worst alcohol I’ve ever had; I longed for the putrid flavour of that ghastly pear cider. Jim Beam smells and tastes of nuts, and was just plain bad.

So anyway, it turned midnight and everyone wished me a happy birthday; and Tamsin, gorgeous sweetheart that she is, rang me up to say happy birthday as well. At least, I assume she was saying happy birthday, I couldn’t hear what she was saying so well. I left with a few of the Americans (who live by the same station as me) at about 12:45, purchasing a burger on the way (the first food since that huge sandwich – and as I say, I could have easily gone without). I think the trains were running all through the night, because this weekend is a national drinking holiday – I could be wrong, but I think Monday and Tuesday are bank holidays as well.

Anyway, that was my night last night, and generally how I celebrated turning 21. No cards came in the post, by the way, but I got a fair few e-mails. Ooh, that's the other thing - woke up this morning, and guess what my hair smelt of? That's right - nothing. No one smokes here, it's excellent. Today, I bought a ‘Daim’ bar cheesecake, which hopefully will be incredibly nice. And I am making myself a nice cottage pie as well. It might sound weird, but I like the fact that if I do that, it will last 4 meals – meaning I know what I’ll be having each night for dinner until Tamsin gets here on Thursday. Which I simply cannot wait for.

Fotboll

This evening was pretty much a perfect football-watching experience. Man Utd beat another Italian team at Old Trafford (only 3-2 this time against AC Milan, rather than 7-1 against AS Roma a few weeks ago), and it was a really good game of football. But what I really enjoyed about it, was that I watched it with Dmytro. I think I mentioned him the other day, he's from Ukraine, and he reminds me quite a bit of Jon; he's Jon's age, in fact. It was nice because most of last year and all of this year at Canterbury, I've watched football on my own; football's so much better to watch with someone else who is as interested in it as you are. So I really appreciated watching it with Dmytro, eating a bag of crisps, drinking beer. OK, you know me too well - I wasn't drinking beer, I was drinking whisky. But he was drinking beer; beer needs to be drought at some point during football. Wait, no, it needs to be drunk. Why the hell did I say drought? Ooh, I know, it must be because the past tense of think is thought, so drink could be drought. I need to cut down on the whisky, maybe? Yeah, anyway, it was really nice, I don't have too many male friends, so it was nice to do something typically male.

In other news, my travelcard ran out today, meaning I've been here for a month now. Isn't that mad? Doesn't seem that long at all.

Address

With my birthday coming up, I thought I'd write my address here so that you can send me nice things. If you can't remember it as well, just look on the side panel which has all my blog titles - I've thoughtfully named this one 'address', so you can easily find it. And here is the address in question:

Armégatan 32 - 825
171 71
Solna
Sweden


Armégatan 32 is the name of the building, and 825 is my room number. 171 71 is the postcode and you can guess the next two.

EDIT - people have told me there's some weirdness before the word Sweden; I can't see it on my computer, so I can't delete it. But it should be Armegatan 32 - 825, then 171 71, then Solna, then Sweden. Hope this clears that up.

Åkersberga

Went to Åkersberga today, to visit the local pre-school of a Swedish girl from my class, C. I don't really know the reason, but half the class went there, and the other half went to a different pre-school. Of the people who went to Åkersberga, everyone wanted to be a noob and go home as soon as they saw the pre-school, whereas I wanted to have lunch in this quiet little town. In the end, A, the German girl, had lunch with me and C. Apparently this place is nicknamed 'The Bronx of Stockholm', because it's so ghetto; C was telling me that the little jewellery shop in the shopping centre was the stage for an armed robbery, where a guy got shot in the leg, not that long ago. After we had lunch, C borrowed her mum's car and drove us round Åkersberga, and showed us these absolutely gorgeous lakes; it's the sort of place I'd go to to have a picnic if it wasn't both freezing cold, and an hour and a half just to get to the train station (and then however long in the car :s). Here are some pictures:

Swedish Rain

We're going through something of a cold spell here now. Well, it's still warm enough for me to have the window open, but it's much colder than it has been; and it's raining for the first time since I've been here. The rain is really fine; so fine that I can't see it falling, unless I try really hard. So it's kinda weird, to look out of my window, then look out again 10 minutes later and the ground is entirely wet, even though I never saw any rain fall.

In other news, I'm worried that the stuff I'm using in place of blackcurrant squash here (a raspberry drink - hallonsmark blandsaft) is actually REALLY high in sugar. Because that would explain why my teeth have started not feeling very nice, and why I keep suddenly having drops in energy. I'm going to try and limit it to meal times and when I get up in the morning, and try to have water the rest of the time. This is such a drastic change in my lifestyle.

The Mystery Deepens

According to Dmytro, the Ukrainian (really nice guy - left 2 days after I got here, to go back home for 2 weeks, and he just got back yesterday; stayed up for about an hour last night just chatting to him in the kitchen), the drilly people are in fact fixing Mohsin's room, because there's lots of water damage there. Only in his room, not anywhere else.

In other news, I was chewing some gum (that's mad, I nearly wrote 'chooing'), and suddenly something was crunchy. I'm not sure whether a filling has crumbled, or my tooth is eroding, but either way it's not good.

I'd better get on with some work. When I log in (or 'logga in') to Blogspot, it's all in Swedish now. I just did the spellcheck on this post, and only about 5 words weren't considered spelling errors.

Mohsin is Innocent

The drilling stopped, I heard people walking through the hallway, so I went into the kitchen - Mohsin was there. And so were the building's caretakers. I'd never seen them before, but they were recogniseable by their paint-covered dungarees, equipped with a belt filled with tools. Mohsin said that they were doing the drilling, which is a story I'm willing to believe. It still doesn't explain why his lights were hanging off the ceiling.

Hang on, the drilling has started again. I can't see me getting much work done this afternoon.

Drilling

So more and more over these last few days, I've been aware of a pretty loud drilling sound. I'm noticing it a lot at the moment, because I'm trying to write essays. The two African guys next door moved out yesterday, so I thought that maybe they had drilled something into the wall and were taking it off now. Or something. But I'm sure the drilling is louder now; I stepped out into the hall, and it sounds even louder; it sounded a bit like it was coming from above. So I went up to the 9th floor, but it actually seemed a bit more muffled there. I went back down to my floor, the 8th floor, and tried to locate the sound. It seemed loudest outside of Mohsin's door - he's the guy from Bangladesh who doesn't speak English very well; he's kinda scary, cos he stares blankly at you when you walk into the kitchen, and doesn't say anything when you say hello. Anyway, I knocked on his door a few times, trying to knock when the drilling stopped for a second. No answer, so I rang the doorbell (we have cute little doorbells here), once when the drilling was going (no answer) and then again when the drilling stopped - he did answer. When he answered, I noticed that his light fixtures were hanging from the ceiling in an unusual fashion, possibly because he had drilled out the screws. I said to him "Is... is that sound coming from your room?" I didn't really understand what he was saying, but he generally seemed to be saying no. Although, the drilling mysteriously stopped while he was talking to me, and started up again once I went to my room. It's stopped again now, but I don't know for how long. It's so difficult trying to work with noise that loud.

The English Shop

I found out the hard way yesterday, that the University library is closed on weekends. So this morning, I gleaned what work I could from the books I got out last week, and proclaimed the rest of the day a guilt-free day off.
I decided to walk around town a bit, and see what was there. I started to look at the ferry terminals at Slussen station, but I decided not to cos it all looked quite confusing; I'll just stick to it all being new when Tamsin comes. So then I went to Medborgarplatsen, which has a huge shopping area, and I stumbled across... The English Shop! It was quite surreal - they sold cornish pasties, Fray Bentos pies, Paxo stuffing, English chocolate, and that shower gel I like. And they had a little bowl of Quality Street at the till, and you were allowed to just take one after your purchase. Ooh, that's the other thing - Cadbury's Creme Eggs!

So yeah, it was quite a nice day. Just outside Medborgarplatsen station, there's this big square of grass, and loads of people were sitting on it, eating ice-creams (it's been hot as a summer day today), listening to these people playing huge drums. It was really cool, but it also highlighted how much I want to play the drums at the moment; in fact, I've got 4 songs right now that I really want to record, and I'll probably have a few more by the time I go back to England. It would have been nice to have someone to sit on the grass and eat ice-cream with as well. But it was nice to just have a day to myself, doing what I felt like. And at least I can tell myself that if I was with someone else, they would have had their own shops that they wanted to go to.

Pre-School

Went to another pre-school today, which took aaaages to get to. Well, half an hour on the tube. But still, it felt like aaaaages. It was a lovely little pre-school, everything about it was so cute. It felt nice that the teachers said they were inspired by the Reggio Emilia philosophy, and I knew what they were talking about. It's almost like... like I LEARNT something from Mrs P in Advanced Early Years at Canterbury. No, that can't be right... I learnt about Reggio Emilia while doing research for the essay I had to do for Early Years. For a second there, I thought that woman had taught us something. Her lessons were so clearly unprepared; she'd always just say "So erm... who did the reading? Let's talk about the reading..." and then she'd talk about the reading, for an hour and a half, then we'd have a break, and then... what else would happen? E, help me out here, what did we do in AEY? I remember the last lesson quite well, because that's when she gave us broad topics (like 'water') and told us to write other words associated with it, onto post-it notes. Not lesson plans, just general words. And then we had to stick those post-its onto another sheet of paper. That was the whole lesson. ANYWAY, the pre-school we went to today was nice, and I have included some pictures.

As an Englishman, it felt quite different to what I'm used to. Partly because I don't feel like everyone's looking at me thinking "What's a man doing here? He must be some sort of paedophile" (there were absolutely no qualms about me taking pictures, at all). And also, partly in terms of Health & Safety. On Tuesday, we had a seminar about the importance of toys in play, and the teacher brought in some of her son's old toys (he's 19 now), which included a Teenage Mutant Hero Turtle (not 'ninja turtle' - they were heroes when I watched them). There was also a painted bit a wood, with nails sticking out of it. Nailed into the wood, were bottle caps - as in spiky metal beer-bottle caps; I think it was meant as a musical instrument. The teacher reckoned he would have made it himself in pre-school. I thought that was mad, but everyone else was really surprised when I said that that sort of thing wouldn't be allowed in England, cos of Health & Safety rules. A bit of wood with nails sticking out of it! So anyway, I was still surprised when I went to this pre-school today, and the 4-year olds were happily sawing wood, and banging nails in with hammers. I'm not mad am I, that wouldn't be allowed in England would it? I can't imagine people being allowed to do that level of woodwork until secondary school.





Not particularly better than "pizza from £2.50" - I don't think the Swedes have quite got the hang of naming pizza places, and making them sound appetising - look at the man on the window! He doesn't make me think about eating pizza, he makes me think about pizza eating me!

Thursday

My blogspot page seems to have turned Swedish. This is strange, but not too bad, because all the buttons are in the same place, so I can still post blogs.
We visited another pre-school today, which was quite nice - it was just outside of the city, so we had to get the train there. The trains aren't spectacularly different to English ones, so there's nothing really for me to comment on. I can't even mention the price, because I have a travelcard. Although, I think that was pretty cheap - it cost 660kr, which is about £50. That's not bad for a 30-day travelcard which incorporates bus, tube and train journeys, is it? How much would one in London cost? Ooh, I can also use it to get the ferry to one of the little islands that Stockholm has as well. So anyway, this pre-school was surrounded by trees, and it looked really nice. Actually, here's a picture, taken through the window from inside the building:



And in fact, while I'm at it, here's a picture of the 'waiting room' at the train station:

So yeah, it was quite a nice little trip. But I just want to clear something up - a lot of people seem to think I'm having a terrible time here, but I'm not. There were just one or two days towards the end of last week, where I was missing people; and the fact that I hadn't had the chance to meet many people was getting to me a little. But I am enjoying it here, it's a nice country; I've been all around the city, mostly in pursuit of goods (like crockery and a guitar), but I have gone to places. Also, I've mostly been stressed because of the amount of work I have to do - which I think I've complained about enough on here. There are still more things I want to do and see, but I'm sort of saving them. Partly for when Tamsin comes - I want to take the ferry to Djurgården cos it sounds good, but I think it would be nice to wait to do it with her, so that it'll be something new for the both of us.
So yeah, I've not had the best of times cos of having multiple assignments and going to hospital; but it's still fun being here.

Football

Both last week and this week, I've keenly watched the Champions League quarter-finals taking place. Last week they showed AC Milan against Bayern Munich, then Chelsea against Valencia; tomorrow it will be Liverpool against PSV, and today they showed Man Utd tearing Roma to pieces, like a bear swiping salmon from a stream, or a nurse swiping my appendix while I have a hernia operation. Because I don't get to see Match of the Day here, I take the chance to watch football with much greater eagerness when it does come. And since the Champions League is a battle of European teams, I become fiercely patriotic when I watch it. I guess because it's something that links me back to my homeland - I can watch it, and feel proud that these teams are representing the country I come from. And I especially feel proud when one of those teams puts 7 goals past another team. And speaking of representing my home country, I made an excellent cottage pie today; I think it's the first meal I've ever made where I've gone back for more, even though I was too full up to finish my first helping. Eeeenglaaaand! I feel like breaking out in a rendition of 'God Save The Queen'.
The way they show the Champions League in this country, is a bit similar to Match of the Day, in the sense that they assume you haven't heard the score from the other matches, so they show snippets of saves and misses before the advert break, and then show you the highlights, without letting you know the final score until they've finished showing those highlights. So all I knew for ages, was that Chelsea were losing 1-0; and before they went to an advert break at full-time, they showed the Valencia players walking off the pitch, congratulating the goalkeeper. So I assumed Chelsea had lost. Still, they ended up winning 2-1, and we now have 2 English teams in the semi-finals, with Liverpool starting at home tomorrow against PSV, with a 3-0 lead already. Eeeeeeeeenglaaaaaaaannnnnd!

Alright Now

Those slow-release pills were incredibly slow to release, but I feel alright now. Got to sleep without too much trouble, and I can act like a normal human again for the time being. It's still a little tender if I take in a DEEP breath, but I'm not likely to do that. Anyway, I'd better go have a shower, then have lunch then go off to a 3-hour seminar.

Hospital

The Swedish word for hospital is 'sjukhuset', which literally means 'the sick house'. One of my flatmates, Andrew from Ghana, accompanied me to the sick house. I was seen to quite quickly, probably because I told them it hurt when I breathed in too deeply, and that I couldn't get to sleep last night because of it - they take breathing difficulties pretty seriously. The ward looked very similar to an English one, and the waiting room had that same depressing feel; but when I actually went into a room, it was much nicer. A female doctor listened to my breathing for a bit, then felt my chest with her hands. Obviously, with the pain I feel just from breathing, it hurts a lot to laugh or cough or burp or hiccup; and she started accidentally tickling me when she felt the side of my ribcage, prompting me to laugh while saying “that hurts.” After that, they took an X-ray, and then it all finished with her giving me some pills – an anti-inflammatory called Voltaren. Also, the doctor said 'recipe' when she meant 'prescription'.

Anyway, that’s about all there is to say, really. I’m home again, and it still really hurts if I do anything, or if I do not do anything. Here are some pictures of the hospital

Actual Snow

No one in England is ever allowed to complain about the weather changing again. It was bright and hot and sunny yesterday, and now it's snowing. Ooh, it actually looks misty with snowfall outside right this second; there's such a strong wind, that it looks like the snow is falling upwards. The weather forecast says it's gonna be back up to 17 degrees by Friday. This is global warming people, and it's ALL YOUR FAULT.
In other news, I'm thinking of going to the hospital, because one of my ribs hurts so much. It started hurting on Saturday, and then a bit more yesterday; there's no bruise or anything, I don't know why it's hurting. I was expecting it to feel fine by today, but instead I couldn't get to sleep for the pain, and it now hurts if I breathe in too deeply. Which, when you're tired and you keep yawning, is the most frustrating thing in the world! Anyway, don't worry (mum, Tamsin), I'm fine - it'll give me a chance to report back on what the Swedish medical system is like.

Vague warnings

It's only now that I've installed anti-virus software which longs out my computer, that I've realised how vague the warning bubble is. When I switched on my computer, it said "Warning: Your computer might be at risk". So, I might be in a situation where something might happen? That's not very terrifying. But the greatest vague warning I've ever seen, was on the side of a London bus a few weeks ago - "1 in 3 people with untreated tuberculosis might die". Hang on, so if you contract a disease that has pretty much been wiped out, and don't treat it, then there's a 33% chance of it being possible that you'll die? That's not a warning; it's barely even a fact.

I haven't been outside in a while, so I don't have any new pictures, I'm afraid. Also, I start lectures again on Tuesday, and Tamsin is once again available for e-mailing, so I'll post on this far less often. Probably.

Films

Big news in Sweden - there's a new film out on April 13th called 'Hot Fuzz' - that means I'll actually get to see it! Although... I don't really want to go by myself. Spider-Man 3 is out on May 4th, and I really badly want to see that, so much. I could see both of those films when Tamsin is down, but she wouldn't want to see either of them. And I don't want to see either of them by myself. It's gonna be lame enough going to a gig on my larry lonesome. Might have to wait until I'm back in the England, and watch them on DVD, when Juliette rents them for free from Blockbuster on account of her being employed by Gamestation. About half of that last sentence didn't really need to be said.

Snow

It's still bright and warm and sunny outside... but it's also snowing a thin blizzard. The snow is like those tiny little circles of polystyrene. And now it's stopped. Quite, quite strange.

Allie, I'm back on June 9th. Don't forget to keep the water running, we don't want to end up with a beached whale in the house.

Bored

I’m not enjoying myself here fully at the moment. I guess it’s because I’ve been alone this week, and Tamsin has been somewhere where she has no access to a computer, so I’ve not been getting an e-mail from her every day. But I feel quite homesick. I want to say “OK, this was fun, I’ve gone to a different country and it’s been wacky and different and I’ve taken pictures and got a few stories to tell. Now I want to go back home.” I feel like I’m disappointing anyone reading this, by saying that. Like it’s my duty to have a good time here. I was reading a thing on the Uni website, and it had quotes from foreign students saying “Coming here really changed my life, it’s the best thing I ever did”, and things like that. If someone at Canterbury asks me to talk up the experience to the first years in October, I won’t really know what to say. “Yeah, it’s alright, but you have to do more work, and the grant they give you isn’t enough to cover the accommodation, let alone the flight.” I’ll enjoy it next week, I’m sure of it. I’ve just been really bored this week. I’ve got assignments to do, and I don’t really know where to start. I want to be in my room in Canterbury, with Dominique knocking on my door every few minutes, bringing in her laptop so that we can help each other. Because if I fall behind with these assignments, it’ll be awful pulling an all-nighter by myself. The problem with trying to get on with work, isn’t that there are a lot of distractions; it’s that there are no rewards. There’s no “If I do x amount of words by whatever time, then I can...”

As I say, it’s just the way I’m feeling right now; I’m not having a bad time here, by any means. I’ve quite enjoyed the little things as well, like just having a glass of whisky to sip whilst watching Champions League football on the TV in the kitchen. I’m just a bit bored, and I don’t want to do my assignments!

Plopp

Finally just sucked it up and ate the Plopp. If you didn't read my post the other day, then this must sound quite, quite horrible. Plopp is described on the packet as "Milk chocolate with a soft toffee filling" (not the weird licorice described on bookofratings.com; although you can also get a Plopp with coffee-flavoured filling). Like with the 'center' chocolate, Plopp has a kind of gritty, unsmooth caramel. It was OK, but I didn't really want it by the end; I found it hard to finish, which isn't really high praise when it comes to chocolate.

I STILL haven't found any cheesecake here.

Productive Day

I've had an alright day today. Made a start on the science assignment; I've only written about 100 words, but it gets the ball rolling. I calculated earlier, that I’m going to have to write 550 words a day, if I want to complete all of these assignments. Although, that was in the time frame of 10 days, when I actually have 16 days to do them in. And also, I can be 10% under the word limit. So taking all that into account, it’s more like 310 words a day, which is a less confidence-destroyingly staggering amount.
I also went to Uni, to sort out my e-mail account there, which was quite a fuss and fuddle, and so I could print out an e-mail, which I needed for the next part of my day...
Today has been an officially productive and all-round generally good day, because I picked up my ticket to see Biffy Clyro and Bloc Party! I was getting really anxious about this, and I’ve been putting it off for the last few days – actually, I’ve just looked back, and I wrote about this two days ago! But yeah, there was no problem at all – I went to the place, showed him the e-mail, he printed off the tickets, handed them to me, and I went on my merry way. The only problem now is getting there, but I’ll just ask someone. Also, I have a feeling my seat is a sitting down seat, on the upstairs bit stylee. Anyone who has heard Biffy or Bloc Party will know that they’re not the sort of band you’d see in concert, and want to spend the whole time sitting down.

Actually, while I’m thinking of negative things, the concert is at a bad-ish time. Only in the sense that it’s a few days after my birthday, and a few days before Tamsin arrives. Meaning that those three events, which are all huge things in my calender, are happening within a week of each other. Actually, why am I complaining? That’s gonna be one excellent week!

So a few days ago, I talked about how rude it is to pack your bags before paying in a supermarket. But today and yesterday, I noticed how BAD some Swedes are when it comes to customer service. Yesterday in the first guitar shop I went into, I had to really try to get the attention of the guy behind the counter. I’m used to people in music shops, immediately walking over to you, as soon as they see you hovering near the expensive instruments. But no one cared, when I was just walking around, clearly looking for someone to talk to. Still, that’s not terrible, I can put that down to a cultural difference. But in the other guitar shop I went into, I stood behind the counter, while the guy there just stood chatting to his mate. Not a customer, another person who worked there, just chatting away. It was really obvious I wanted their attention – why else would I be standing right in front of him, staring at him, trying to make eye contact? No, really, why would I be doing that? And then, when he stopped talking, he just sort of stood there, looking past me, then walked off! I had to wait until he came back, and just say “HEY!” to get his attention; it would have been pointless looking for eye contact again. A similar thing happened today at the University library – the guy behind the counter just having a chinwag with some woman, and still not talking to me after she had walked off, instead waiting for me to really try and get his attention. I really mean it, there was NOTHING else I could have been doing, standing behind the counter; there’s nothing there, it was student helpdesk, why else would I be standing in front of it, staring at the person behind it?

Oh well, here’s something for your amusement – a picture of a Swedish keyboard. It is different in small ways. For instance, what the hell is that above the ‘4’ key? Also notice how they place less importance on the bracket keys, but they do have separate keys for the ‘å’, ‘ä’, and ‘ö’, and a special place for the ½ symbol.

Guitar

Spent quite a lot of time today, simply trying to find a place where I could buy a guitar, then sell it back to the shop in 2 months. Finally found a place called... something or other. Can’t remember. Either way, they sold me a quarter-length guitar, very similar to the one I have in England; and the receipt says that they’ll buy it back from me for half the price in 2 months time. Which I think is worth it; I was getting really irritated having nothing to play. Although, my hand now hurts, because I’ve been playing it since I got back. But that’s what it’s all about. Although it means I’ve gone a bit over my budget for this week. Which again, is what it’s all about.

I still haven’t eaten the ‘Plopp’. The other bar I got was called ‘Japp’. Japp said “Nytt Recept” across the top, which I guess means “New Recipe”. It also says “Creative Edition No1”, which I think is much stranger. I was very intrigued as to what it was going to be, with the description being (in English) “Milk chocolate filled with cocoa meringue and soft caramel.” Cocoa meringue? That sounds really interesting, I wonder how it works in a chocolate bar. Turns out it’s just a mars bar, with a different name. I would never have described nougat as ‘cocoa meringue’. Speaking of which, there’s a bar in this country called a ‘Nougat’ bar, which I was really looking forward to. Turns out it’s basically a hazelnut praline bar, but with nothing around it. So it’s kinda gooey and horrible, and just not very nice.

Yesterday was the first day I really wished I could speak Swedish. Sure I know the odd word, and I can read it Okish. I think, anyway – there was an advert on the train today that said “Mjölkningrobotsen kan inte göra allt” (or something similar), which I think means “The milking robots cannot do everything.” ANYWAY, yesterday, a girl came up to me while I was waiting at the platform. She looked about 9 years old, and she was asking something. But all I said was “Sorry... I can’t speak Swedish.” I would have stopped and tried to help her, but she asked as the train pulled up. Don’t worry, she didn’t look too scared or worried or anything. But it did make me feel nice that she thought I looked like the sort of person who is approachable.

Oh yeah, thaaaat’s the other thing about living here – the whooshing sounds the doors make. I think it’s cos of the way the air flows through this building; the kitchen door makes a really audible windy noise. It’s like something out of a horror movie; it sounds a bit like wind blowing through the trees at night. And then it suddenly stops when you open the door. My bedroom door does the same sometimes, but when you close it – it kind of goes in a crescendo as the door closes, then suddenly stops once the door is actually closed. It is creepy.

Sweets and Music

I've considered it almost my... duty to eat the sweets that Sweden has to offer, and report back home on what I've found. I've eaten a Mars and a Twix, and they couldn't be more the same as their English counterparts. I've also eaten a 'Center', which is the same as our 'Rolos', except... grittier. I can't think of a better word. They're not bitty, they're just less smooth. I bought some other chocolate bars, but I can't remember what they are. Oh yeah, they also sell 'Daim' bars here. Remember Dimes? Well that's what they are... with an altered spelling.
That's it - Plopp! That's the name of one of the chocolate bars I've bought. Plopp. I have no idea what that will taste like. Actually, that name has unearthed an old memory - the guy from book of ratings must have rated some Swedish sweets - as indeed he did! Go to http://www.bookofratings.com/swedishcandy.html and read all about it. He is thoroughly entertaining.

In other news, I tried buying a guitar today; the cheapest they had was 795SEK, which is about £61, which is just too much for something that I'm only gonna be playing for 2 months. I asked if I could buy it, and sell it back in 2 months for half the price, but the guy said no. His reason was that he wouldn't be able to sell it afterwards, on account of it being 2nd hand. Still, someone pointed me in the direction of a cheaper place, which I'll try to get to tomorrow, as well as trying to pick up my tickets to see Biffy Clyro supporting Bloc Party on 1st May. I can see that being quite problematic, because they want the credit card I booked with as proof of ID - but I used my mum's credit card. I sent them an e-mail about it, but the person replying didn't have an excellent grasp of English. They wrote 'welcome back' at the end of the e-mail.
Anyway, I really do hope I can get a guitar tomorrow; it feels horrible not being able to play any sort of music whatsoever. I look at pictures of Tamsin, and I want to sing about her. I listen to Bedouin Soundclash, and I want to play along. I just need to make a sound, because it's horrible having nothing to play.

Ikea

In the end, the clouds cleared up quite nicely yesterday. The sky is really bright again today, it’s really hot; and visibility is better as well – the far distance looks light blue, rather than dull grey. When I told people I was going to Sweden, most people’s first instinct was to say “Ikea!” Not “Ah, the home of Ikea” or “You could see what Ikea is like there.” Most people just shouted the word. I’ve never been to an Ikea before, but in a desperate search for cheap crockery, I went yesterday to what is apparently the biggest Ikea in the world. I just walked round in circles (the whole store was a giant spiral – dunno if that’s how all Ikeas are) saying, “Where are the plates? Why don’t they sell any plates? Why?” Eventually I found them, but it took aaaages. I was expecting the whole trip to take an hour and a half, but it took nearly 4 hours. Still, it was worth it for the plates/bowls/sharp knife/chopping board/cooking dish. Oh yeah, that's the other thing - I've found that in Sweden it is RUDE to pack your bags before paying, when you shop. I've been given such evil looks for doing it. The way they have the conveyer belt at the end is that there's a big wooden separator - so all of your stuff gets pushed to one half of the belt while you pack, and the stuff of the next person in line, goes to the other half. Did I explain that well? It's actually quite a good system, probably invented by someone with half a brain; I hate it when I'm at Tesco, still packing my stuff into bags after paying, and the cashier starts putting the next person's stuff through. Really, that's just asking for trouble.

On the way back, I sat on the tube opposite two Jamaican men. Now these were not your average laid-back Lilt-drinking Jamaicans. They were really aggressive; they kept talking about getting into fights, and killing people who robbed them. I guess I look like I could be Swedish, so they didn’t think I would understand most of what they were saying. But I DID understand most of it. Oh yeah, random thing – there was a vending machine at the tube station selling sweets, drinks, chewing gum, condoms... Yeah, that’s right, condoms. I thought that was mental. Should have taken a picture really. Ah well, I’ve got another 10 weeks here, and I’m sure I’ll go to T-Centralen many times. Anyway, here are some pictures I did take (click on the pictures for bigness):

Västra Skogen station - this is more what I mean about the sculptures. On the other side of those coloured... things, is the other platform.


A different part of the platform - this is a better picture showing what I mean about the walls being like caves.


Same place. The edge of the poster is, of course, a Madonna poster.


The huge Ikea. This picture doesn't do it justice.

Tempting Fate

Yeah, alright, it was my fault for saying yesterday "There hasn't been a cloud in the sky since I got here." The sky is covered with clouds, but it's still pretty warm - I've still got my gigantic Swedish window open.
Juliette was asking if I've managed to catch any of the furor surrounding England's dismal performances; luckily, I've been going on bbc.co.uk pretty much every day. The BBC have reliably informed me that 'the media' (who they always distance themselves from when it's something bad) have been quite harsh on England, and have riled up the fans, so that they were booing from the outset against Andorra. But then another article talked about how poor England were in said game. Still, as I say, I can listen to Radio5 on the internet here, so I don't feel too cut off from England.

Swedish language point of the day: Slut means end/finish. So when it had the other scores from around Europe rolling along the bottom of the screen in the N.Ireland against Sweden match, it said (slut) next to certain matches. Made me giggle.

Break

First things first – a few people have asked where I’m living, and I’ve found my address. It is:
Armégatan 32-825
171 71
Solna
Sweden

I think that’s how you’re meant to write it, anyway. The name on my little postbox is ‘Tim Ruffner’. This annoys me verily.
So anyway, I’m enjoying a break today. I think I’ve been feeling so tired recently, because I’ve known since January that I won’t be getting a long break until June. Everyone else at Uni has had this week off, is having next week off, and the following week (and some people have the week after that as well). I’ve got today off, and next week as well as the following Monday – which is a nice 11-day rest. Except I have to do numerous assignments in that time. Still, I’m gonna make sure I relax this weekend; I can have a traditional Saturday, listening to Radio5 on the internet. Tradional-ish. So I began my break by getting up at the rather leisurely time of 12:30 (was up past midnight last night watching Family Guy season 5 – it’s SO much better than season 4. Which, frankly, sucked), and watched a bit more crappy TV. Desperate Housewives, followed by Top Gear, followed by Fresh Prince of Bel Air. I don’t really know what channel that would be in England.
Coca-Cola are launching their ‘Coke Zero’ advertising campaign here. So there are loads of adverts saying things like “Don’t you wish you could have weekends... with ZERO end?” And then it says the website, zeroismore.com or something like that. But no mention of the product. I feel a slight sense of smugness in already knowing what it is, but mostly I feel sorry for anyone who might be excited (or even vaguely curious) about what this incredible new thing is going to be. Coke with less sugar. Doesn’t exactly set the pulse racing. I always found the English adverts strange, in the way they were trying to appeal to a male audience (Girlfriends, with ZERO drama); like it’s really tapping into the male psyche to be offering a sweet drink with decreased sugar.

A few people have asked me if it’s snowing here – just to clarify, I haven’t seen a single cloud since being here. It’s been consistently bright and sunny; although I’ve been informed that it’ll cool down pretty soon. But the locals say that it won’t get wintery-cold again, until... well, winter. There aren’t any clouds, but in the far distance, the sky looks kind of grey; if I was shown only that bit of sky, I’d think it was going to rain. But that dank grey colouring gradually fades into the light blue of the sky above me. Just looked out of my window (my HUGE window – they like large windows in Sweden, because they like to let the light in), and I can see the moon. It’s nearly 6pm, and still completely light outside. I can’t recall ever seeing the moon at this level of brightness, at this time of day.

Hang on, I haven’t talked about playing at the Fox yet, have I? I played last Sunday, the night before coming here. It was really good, quite a few people came, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. Carl said something along the lines of “I consider you satisfactory enough to perform here again another day”, which really pleased me. The band after me were called Coppers for Karma (www.myspace.com/coppersforkarma), and they were really good. The bassist was happily dancing around, and the guitarist handled the heckling well.
Drunk man: Here we go again, another depressing song.
Guitarist: What? Life’s not all butterflies and bubbles y’know.
I don’t think I made that exchange sound as entertaining as it was. I had to leave before the headlining act, Nathan Persad, because I wanted to get more than 3 hours sleep. Anyway, overall – it was good playing there, and I hope I can do it again; in fact, hopefully Katie and I will play there together in the summer, I think that would go down really well.

I’m missing home a little bit. I miss Tamsin a lot, obviously, but that feeling has been lessened by the colossal e-mails we’ve been sending each other. I miss E a bit as well (sorry I forgot your flower on Sunday, E); shopping by myself sucks. I want to go to Tesco, and justify why I should buy an expensive cheesecake, and then find a packaged tub of ‘Fresh Mashed Potatoes’, and say “How can they call it ‘fresh’, when it’s been processed and then packaged?”

Oh yeah, one last thing – nothing goes off here. I mean, the sell-by dates are really far in advance. My milk actually says Bäst Före 21/05/2007. And some bread rolls were left in my cupboard, which are still good for another 3 weeks. 3 weeks from now, anyway – I don’t know when they were bought.

OK, that’s everything for now. I’ll leave you with a picture from inside a train – an example of how the default colours for anything here is the colours of the flag.