Snarl-City.

This is a post about snarling.

Today, walking home, the weather was amazing. The sun was out, and the mountains of Borås looked great. Spring is in the air. The snow is melting. Happiness is a few short rays of sun away. Naturally, there was a bit more skip in my step (read: I was actually walking without slouching.)

Now, you'd think being on the brink of Spring might bring out sunnier dispositions in the residents of Borås. No way, José.

People in Sweden are either shy, mean, or a bit of both. Not only do people not even awkwardly smile when they walk past you, they actually snarl. I frequently get snarled at simply for making eye contact with another human being.

It could be the lady I see every day at the bus stop, or someone else in the laundry room snarling. No friendly looks. No half-smiles. No acknowledgement that you are a human and not a robot. Snarls.

Another example happened today, as I was doing my laundry and stepped out for a moment to get some air. A person had been out on their balcony. The second they realized I was also outside, they retreated into their apartment, in a tiffy, almost angry at me for being in the same airspace.

This is something I will never forget and will not miss about Sweden. I'm not saying Canadians become best friends with everyone they see, but generally two joggers might extend a small smirk, or two solitary morning walkers will say a quick 'hey.'

Literally the second I arrived in Toronto, in an airport no less, strangers were conversing with me. Small talk. Acknowledgment. Life.

I will end by saying that there are the renegade Swedes. The few and far between who will come out of nowhere, shake your hand, and strike up a conversation. I am under the impression that they are the bane of the existence of other Swedes.

The phrase, ''Well, excuse ME for living'' often pops into my head after I get snarled at by grannies, teens, moms, and children alike.

Peace out Snarl-City.