PS: Never can say goodbye...

As I said to my friends, it is merely See You Soon and not Goodbye, and I can’t completely leave Sweden without mentioning a little more of the mischief that went on there. It was just 4 weeks ago I arrived, but with everything I have done since, it could easily seem like an eternity. Airports come and go, and already I am 6 flights away, trying to remember everything that happened.

Coming from Copenhagen on the train, I busied myself with iPod Swedish lessons. Combined with my acquired knowledge of the language on my Summer trip, I thought I had it covered when I wanted to interrupt someone and ask for help. Thank goodness I stuck with “Prata du engelska?” (Do you speak English?) instead of what I thought was “Excuse me”. I almost told a complete stranger to “Shut the hell up” because håll käften and ursäkta sound quite similar (despite obvious differences in spelling), and I was really nervous.

Nevertheless, I arrived without offending anyone, and was already back where I left off with my Swedish friends. It was still Kalmar, but now it was Kalmar with snow. We threw snowballs at each other on the way to the student bar on Saturday night, and the big stone ball by the mall wasn’t rolling in its watery base any longer. Instead it was frozen, motionless, and I toyed with the idea of sitting it on vodka instead of water for year-round movement. Then I remembered I was in Sweden and was overcome with images of the local licking the fountain.

We didn’t stay in Kalmar long, opting for a cheaper 6 hour bus to Stockholm in preparation for Christmas and New Year. I was fortunate to have the hospitality of the Hedberg family in both Stockholm and Mariefred, where I spend my first White Christmas. I had sent my letter to the North Pole and was well and truly inundated with my wishes coming true. As previous photos have shown, flying down hills on a Snow Racer and trotting through the forest on horseback are a far cry from my usual BBQ in the park for Christmas, but it was a completely unforgettable experience that I don’t think I would have traded for the usual given the option.

Back in Stockholm, the snow-covered balcony was the perfect spot to watch the New Year’s Fireworks, all of which are completely legal, unlike Adelaide where even weak little sparklers were banned from outdoors at the risk of starting a fire in the 40-plus heat. We took a walk by some of the many waterways, where thin layers of ice and snow hid the waters and boats were frozen into position at their moorings.

So I’ve covered the snow, Christmas, New Years, and a few other things. The more I do, the more I want to remember every day - and yet the last few weeks have slipped by, and the journey is almost at an end. The pictures help tell the story, but they don't always cover everything. Now, I think it’s safe to move on to Latvia, which I did just over 1 week ago…

What I learnt in French today

Read the translation or watch the film below (it's really cute!)

Summer in the City - Svenska

Kalmar Slott (Castle)

In my effort to catch up on all my adventures, and eventually arrive at a point where my writing is not 6 weeks behind actual events, I bring you to Sweden. I've mentioned previously my Swedish friends, a Yatzee-loving bunch who I shared my Normandy adventures with: our trip to Mont Saint-Michel, to Honfleur, and the "amazing" Bayeux Tapestry.

On Friday July 10, I left Edinburgh, bound for the city of Kalmar, where my friends study at University. The flight landed 4 hours away but such is the kindness of the Swedes that they still picked me up from the airport. Flying in over the forests and lakes, then driving late into the night while the sun remained low in the sky was an incredible experience (which I soon got over when the sun rose again at 3.30am).

The street at sunrise, 3.30am

Amanda, Thomas and Sofia had an itinerary planned for my stay, a recurring feature of which was our night-time festivities. A trip to Systembolaget was first on the list - it is the only store in Sweden where you can buy alcohol, a complete monopoly on the market (besides a few low-strength beers in the service stations). We also took in the local design culture at Ikea, where I ordered my hot dog and soft-serve ice cream in Swedish. And so began my education in the local language...

One day in Caen, I'd surprised the others by learning a phrase on the internet: Var kan jag hitta någon som talar engelska? (Where can I find someone who speaks English?) This was of course hilarious, as you would expect (?!). In Kalmar, 'speaks English' soon became 'poops', 'has a little penis', 'has navel lint', etc etc. Thomas and the other boys delighted in teaching me ridiculous words that I would innocently repeat at the expense of my pride. Unattractive people were inget att hänga i julgranen (nothing to hang on the Christmas tree) and håll käften was thrown about repeatedly.

We had a jazz brunch one morning, followed by an express tour around the town. We stopped in at the Kalmar Slott (castle) and relaxed with a glass of wine at Byttan. Sunday night was spent at the Strand bar on Öland, and we returned to the island for a road trip a couple of days later.

Road Trip on Öland

Byttan!

We cooked dinner together each night and even more Swedish friends joined us - Johan and Martin were our partners in crime for much of my stay and just confirmed my Swedish racial stereotypes - good-looking, friendly and a lot of fun! I even swam in the freezing Baltic Sea, if you can call a 1 minutes dip a swim. But all good things must end eventually, and luckily for me, where Kalmar ended, Gotland began.

Sweden's Ibiza, Gotland is an island popular during the Summer, and even more popular the week I was there. Of course, an Australian is always cause for a party but this was out of control. It was Stockholm Week - typified by the young rich (or the rich's young) who take Daddy's boat and sail to Gotland, where they cover themselves in champagne and dance in bikinis under mirrorballs on the deck of their boats. But I wasn't there for their company. Rebecca was my attraction, the one missing from Kalmar, who was working on Gotland.

I was met with a sign at the Visby ferry terminal, and we tore around the village in Becca's car (ok, drove slowly and sensibly). After 5 nights of parties in Kalmar, Visby was a welcome relief. We had quieter nights, played Thai dominoes and had another road trip to a different strand to lay on the beach (the water was no warmer here). We ate a traditional Swedish dinner with Becca's parents when they arrived by boat, and sat back to watch the brats disrupt the usually quiet marina. It was great to see Becca again, and meet her friends I had heard so much about in Caen.

The gorgeous Mrs and Miss Becca

Delicious Swedish shrimp salad

I left Gotland via ferry for Stockholm, where I spent one night before flying out to London. It had been just over a month since I'd seen my Swedes, but I was glad to see them again and sad to leave. With a little luck I will be back in the fall, but without a doubt I will be crashing their Christmas celebrations and hanging them on the julgranen in time for some decent snowfall.

Build a Bridge

I learnt something yesterday.

Today is a public holiday (The Ascension, 40 days after Easter) and as it's a Thursday, many people are taking the Friday off too, for an extra-long weekend. In French, they call this faire le pont, to 'make a bridge' (between the public holiday and the weekend).

And I thought it just meant to get over something. 

Merci France - A Song

When in Paris... spend the day scouting vintage stores and drinking tea with lemon whilst watching passers-by. Have dinner in Montemarte (mais bien sûr!) but be sure to look out for amazing buskers selling CDs that are totally worth 10 euro. 

Taking the internal steps at Abbesses this afternoon, our legs, plagued with lactic acid build-up, were grateful to stop and rest while our ears where tickled with pleasure by Les Petites Bourrettes. Nothing is more French than to emerge from the Metro to the sound of a plastic bin bass and piano accordion, and 5 quirky French men singing the kind of songs that make you smile.

Still humming as I walked up to Sacre Coeur, my own silly rhymes replaced the lyrics I thought I heard and over the next few hours formed some kind of structured composition. Testament to my nonsensical grasp of the French language,  I present...

Merci France 

Nous habiton á Epron et Caen

et nous mangeon les champignons
Avec garçons dans pantalon
Et il est toujours vraiment bon

Prés Sacre Coeur il y a du beurre
Mais il n'y a pas une tour de fer
Il est six heures, le temps d'un verre
Vin rouge est ce que je préfère

Nous sommes heureux (nous sommes heureux)
Il rend la vie armoriaux
La tapisserie que dans Bayeaux
est presque trés contagieux

Lorsque vous êtes triste (lorsque vous êtes triste)
Si vous êtes pris à l'improviste
Il suffit de suivre ces pistes
Ce n'est pas une chanson raciste

Peut-être plus tard j’ai un mouchard
Assurer que vous êtes pochard
Une promenade à la rue Mouffetard
Faire un plaisir salopard

Nous sommes heureux (nous sommes heureux)
Il rend la vie armoriaux
La tapisserie que dans Bayeaux
est presque très contagieux

Lorsque vous êtes triste (lorsque vous êtes triste)
Si vous êtes pris à l'improviste
Il suffit de suivre ces pistes
Ce n'est pas une chanson raciste

Thankyou France (Translation)

We live in Epron and Caen
and we eat mushrooms
with boys in pants
and it is always really good

Near Sacre Coeur there's some butter
but there is not an iron tower
It's six o'clock, time for a drink
Red wine is what I prefer

We are happy (we're happy)
It makes life easier
The tapestry in Bayeaux
is almost very contagious

When you are sad (when you're sad)
If you are caught by surprise
Just follow these tracks
This is not a racist song

Maybe later, I have a spy
Ensure that you are drunk
A walk on Rue Mouffetard
Makes a happy bastard

We are happy (we're happy)
It makes life easier
The tapestry in Bayeaux
is almost very contagious

When you are sad (when you're sad)
If you are caught by surprise
Just follow these tracks
This is not a racist song

Don't spend money...

...unless its a cool 'going-away' present for yourself. I bought a Safari Green iPod nano and loaded it with 45 hours of French Lessons. I can get through half on the way to France!

The other great thing is the Phrasebooks you can get for iPod, very handy for travelling and helping out in emergency situations: Aidez-moi! J'ai besoin d'un médecin!