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.