Stockholm Syndrome

Well, I made it safe and sound to my next destination. The Kingdom of Sweden. My old friend Alexander came to meet me at the bus station and took me back to set up shop at his apartment in Danderyd- a suburb a few subway stations north of Stockholm. Nice area. And naturally, as you might expect, he insisted on taking me out to celebrate. We went to the opening night of a new club called Forsgatan- which is basically an elaborate set of stairs and thats it. Interesting idea for a club. A few drinks, a bit of dancing and we headed back to Filipe´s place for the afterparty (efterfest) >His building has a massive basement with a gym and ping pong set up. These crazy Swede´s tore the place up and put me to shame. Calle even did a marathon effort of treadmilling before he... actually I will just let you watch the tape here. Please make note of Mattias´evil laughter/grin.

The rest of the week was characterised with more partying, stockholm style. In an effort to shed my American/Canadian ways and embrace my Swedish surroundings I am however, going to talk less about my drinking exploits and more about what else goes on in my adventures. Yes I am aware this will probably result in less writing overall but I will try nevertheless. Saturday me and a few other guys drove up to Mattias´country house for the weekend. We went up a day early to prepare the house for the party on Sunday. My friend Alex is off to Japan on tuesday while Mattias and Oscar are off to Jordan on Friday to do their medical internships; so this party was a send-off of sorts. It´s a beautiful property in the Swedish countryside with magnificent views. And for better weather we could not have asked. Aside from much partying, dancing and general shinanigans we actually did a few creative/productive things. We played some kubbspiel (the crazy Swedish game with wooden blocks I brought home with me last time I was here) and a treasure hunt of sorts. A questionaire was created with bizarre questions related to things the three departing amigos had done in their lives. I was flattered and proud to both understand the first question and be a big part of it. That was about as far as things got for me- while Sarah was kind/patient enough to translate for the only English speaker at the party- that didn´t help me know what the hell they were talking about. Good times.

I was also fortunate enough to partake in a particularly Swedish activity of having a Sauna with a bunch of dudes until we almost passed out and then running down to the lake and jumping in. I suspect it has a more dramatic effect in winter but I got the idea. Good times.

Another Swedishism I had the opportunity to try was blodpudding. Now as difficult to make the translation from Swedish to English might be; this is actually a pudding made from pig´s blood. How delicious does that sound? My Swedish chefs then fried up slices of this delicate dish and then smeared it with lingonberry jam. Lingonberry jam is somewhat like rasberry jam except sour as hell. I mean; what more could you want in a meal. I stuck to just the one slice while the natives took 3 or 4 each for lunch. Mmmm

Back down in the city after a profoundly Swedish weekend. I registered for my social insurance number and the jobhunt now ensues. This brings me to a rather large problem; 99% of Swedes speak near perfect English. I however do not speak near perfect Swedish or anything remotely related to it. Now you tell me; why would an employer hire someone with a resume like that? I do of course plan to take language classes and rectify that problem but it remains nevertheless; an inconvenient truth.