Pop up Video...oooo!!

You just need to watch. This Swedish video perfectly exemplifies why I am in love, yet also constantly baffled by this fine country. In case you can't understand the premise of the song, they are singing about how much they love boxed wine. Specifically the bag that comes in the box...

Don't buy no drinks at the bar... Boys with pocket squares take care of that!

On Friday night, it was my first going out night back in Göteborg and I was eager for hanging out with people under the age of 50 (Naples, FL I love you, but the under 65 set prefers to start drinking after 8:30 pm... you know the time you go to bed).

After getting a few drinks under our belt it was time to head out. Nivå was the destination of choice. I personally love the place, good music, friendly folk, and two levels of dance floors ooo ya! Happily dancing with my good friends Jenny, Sebastian (the only girl), Jessica and her two friends. I was happily in that euphoria that can only be reached when you've had one too many and "Oh my GAWD! I love this song!!" can be exclaimed every two minutes because "seriously, this place plays the best music ever!!" (insert embarrassing jazz fingers which I am so fond of).

All of the sudden Sebastian, the voice of reason, turns to me. Points to two guys who are super dressed up, and says "If I was a girl, I would talk to those guys because they look like have money and would buy me a drink." I had no choice but to try my luck. After talking for way toooooooo long, to a boy with slicked back hair and a pocket square in his sport coat pocket... which he may have taken out and dangled at one point, I deemed the drink mission a bust. Unfortunately phrases such as "I left my corporate credit card in dubai." and "Where did you board?" only make me gag. However sport coat boy and his little friend who I called "Sweater Boy" all night, became immensely attracted to Sebastian, so there was no hope of losing them. Many other new friends were also accrued (gay british man, who kept unbuttoning your shirt... stay fly!), and actual friends headed home.

The night ended, as do the majority of my nights with a taxi fiasco. Finally at around 4:30 it was time to call it a night. Even though Sport Coat and Sweater Boy invited Sebastian and me to an after party, it was time for the crazy party animals to go to bed. It had started raining so tram and walking were out of the question, leaving taxi as my only option. Yes I am weather intolerant in a bad way, I am American and thus do not like to be inconvenienced in any way... unfortunate I know.

While getting in the back seat of a taxi, a young man got in the front. We will call him Taxi Boy. When screaming "this is my taxi you will have to get out peasant!!" didn't convince the young lad, that this taxi was clearly transporting a feisty animal (the taxi driver... duh) and it was in his best interest to get out, the two of us rationally decided since we were heading in the same direction to split a cab. Well, seeing how whenever I get in awkward situations I cannot under any circumstance just shut up for five seconds, I proceeded to talk my new friend's ear off the entire ride. Oddly enough he enjoyed it, and at the end of our shared ride asked for my phone number... which perchance due to the late hour or the drinks Sport Coat finally purchased me... I could not recall. Did I mention that due to the rain my hair was plastered against my head and mascara was running down my face.

Taxi Boy be blind and caaaarazy! And so is told another anecdote, solidifying the fact that my life will never be normal.

The journey home is never too long... until the plane breaks

Those who know me well, know with certainty that I have no vices. However, if there is one (and only one) aspect of my personality that I am certain can be quite tiring, it is the frequency with which I complain about the cold.

Nothing brings me more joy than standing outside squealing and lamenting to anyone who will listen how "I am not being dramatic this is seriously the coldest I have ever been in my life!!! WAHHHH" (yes this phrase is recited on a daily basis every year between the months of November until early March). I also like to inform my companions that wherever I am currently located, is the coldest place on earth and "I should know I grew up in Wisconsin!"... then moved to Boston... then moved to Sweden... twice.

On one particularly arctic Saturday night in which the trams decided to stop working and, I slipped on an iceburg bruising the whole left side of my body, I declared to my classmates "I am not just being over dramatic I would rather die than stay out in this cold another five minutes!" and I can honestly say I meant every word. A desperate phone call home was made, and a ticket to Florida booked for early March. The only thing that kept me going through hellaciously cold month was the promise of sunshine and seeing my mommy.

Finally the day approached, I was flying out of Copenhagen and left my friend Sarah's apartment at 6 am to catch my flight (thank you sarah soo much!!!). My soul was buoyant, my spirits were high. And then grounds crew broke the plane.

Broke the plane? Oh yes, the controller of the jet way... hit the plane with such force he (I assume its a "he", because what woman would be that stupid hehehe? ) cracked the hull. Long story short, I did not make it to the US that day, but instead had to return the following day to take an extra large plane specially flown in to take two days worth of passengers.

Then that plane broke... nope I am not making this up. After sitting on the runway an extra two hours so that a mechanic could fix the pressurizer finally it was time for take off. Eventually over 24 hours after scheduled arrival I made it home!

Florida was warm, and I saw more sunlight in 10 days than I have in the past 5 months. I always love going home and seeing my family, even though my little brother now thinks he is too cool for me. Harsh and totally not true!

Now I am back to Sweden and eager to complain. The weather seems to be holding at warmer temperatures, but I think I can get major milage complaining about the rain, that has replaced the snow, for at least two or three months!

Swedish News

When you live alone in a cold Northern land, with only a stuffed sheep (no sheep jokes please... I ain't sheering Seamus with anyone) to keep you company at night, there is a lot of time for pondering life's great mysteries. Last evening while drifting in and out of sleep i began to wonder....

Research Question:

1) When you live in Sweden, one of the safest countries in the world, what exactly can the news report?

Definitions for the purpose of this study:

1) Safe: the ability to stumble home drunk and naked at 4 am without encountering harm from humans... (human being the imperative word, it's difficult for a government to prevent unwanted advances from randy raccoons)

2) News: something of public interest that is worth repeating and making available to the general public through means of television, newspaper, internet or that new fangled social media everyone keeps talking about.

Abstract:

Here are a few of the greatest headlines I came across when conducting research:

Obese drunk driver: 'I'm too fat for jail' -- Naturally this just lead me to ask the real question at hand... how much alcohol does it takes to get a 458 pound man drunk?

'Grim Reaper' threatens to castrate incontinent patient -- its cold and dark half the year... people have to come up with a way to amuse themselves somehow, and come on, everybody knows it is the classic slumber party unspoken agreement the bed wetter deserves ridicule and harassment

Jilted lover fly-posts pics of ex-boyfriend's privates-- let's just be glad she isn't the grim reaper... then again... who wants to date someone who pees himself... and we all know dating leads to babies (***Footnote "the Swedish normal course of dating": 1. sleep together 2. have mutual friend set up actual date 3. live together 4. get engaged 5. have a baby 6. get married) in which case girlfriend is totally justified... you don't want to pass on bedwetting genes to your future children. Social Darwinism triumphs again!

But don't be mistaken, Sweden like all countries has its especially dark moments (and I'm not referring to the lack of sunlight between November-March), so I feel it would be negligent to not mention that there is violent crime including shoot ups from time to time (and not just of heroine... this isn't Norway after all) fe. As proof please regard the headline below...

Icicle gunned down in eastern Sweden

I wish Icicle stood for a rapper, drug lord or really anything besides something formed from hanging dripping water that freezes... but on the plus side city workers did describe it as dangerous... that has to earn the country some street cred!

When they say Classic Dance Party... Do you think they mean retro???

This past weekend I went to Budapest. I have gained a new found respect for former Soviet Countries and will no longer describe Eastern Europe as my personal hell. Once I got over the fact that everyone looked like a murderer/ serial killer, I adjusted quite quickly to Hungarian life (Lunch at the Four Seasons for roughly $20.oo... yes please!!) My first day in Budapest it was cold, raining and Erica who was flying in from France (how that country functions is beyond me) was 8 million hours delayed so I spent it alone. The owner of our hotel Albert (I want him to be my new BFF!!) gave me a map and pointed out a walking tour and told me "don't worry even with your blond hair you won't get raped." (umm Albert, not so comforting) After getting soaked, whistled to, and stared at by every beady eyed shifty short pudgey male in the greater Budapest metropolis I decided to go to a cafe. Inside I was served a mug of melted chocolate... AMAZING! All the waiters stared at me... I maybe was drawing attention to myself with my moans of delight.

Finally Erica arrived and we went out to dinner... where we were served deep fried bread covered in melted cheese with garlic soup... Best new food I have tried in the longest time!! It was sooooooo good. We then decided to walk to a bar to get drinks... along the way I saw a sign for a "Classic Dance Party." Naturally, I became obsessed and we had to go. Apparently "Classic" in Budapest means music from the 80's and 90's with clubgoers dressed in Walmart's finest from the 80's and 90's. I have never been so happy!!

The next day was sightseeing, including a trip to the baths. The baths were amazing, you go outside and sit in a hot pool. You then overheat, step out of the pool, freeze to death, reenter pool, overheat, step outside freeze to death... you get the picture.

That night we went to dinner and then went to a crazy costume party. My friend Trevor, who I studied with at Uppsala, now goes to school in Budapest and invited us (we saw him at the party for about 30 seconds). Imagine a huge club at Halloween, except everyone not only was dressed in costume but completely transformed into character. Sitting outside the bathroom we met a Smurf from Gothenburg. Smurf and his smurfette girlfriend invited us to join their crew, and Smurf kept bringing over all of his "Tall as hell" (he was a smurf...short) Swedish and Norwegian friends for me to dance with. I would dance with the boys he brought over for five minutes before an evil hispanic looking girl dressed as a rose (every rose has its thorns....) would come up and attack them. I would then stand awkwardly dancing with myself trying to mimic the moves I had seen the night before at the Classic Dance Party (girls just wanna have fun... thumbs up!). All in all it was a pretty great night I would happily relive... as long as I had a bottle of champagne and a camera.

The next day was our final chance to sightsee. Which included a bathroom decorated in scenes (dioramas) from Disney Movies made completely out of marzipan (yes the food item). The life Size Snow White and the Seven Dwarves was particularly creepy.

All in all Budapest was the slightly strange/disturbing/yet ultimately enjoyable experience I hoped for and more.