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.