London Called

I'm not sure what I did to the weather Gods, but of the last twenty days of my life, only ONE day had rain. How amazing this is is not lost on me!
After my go-go gadget trip of constant sight-seeing and food consumption, I have returned to normal (read: sitting in my apartment staring at either my phone or my fridge.)

After a crazy Friday night (speaking to my mother for hours about our respective days at school and watching Finding Neverland) I am preparing for an equally crazy Saturday night. I will probably eat tacos, listen to Tina Fey read her audiobook (which I have already read) and perhaps knit my giant blue thing.
BUT one week ago, my life was not this ‘crazy.’ I was out in Edinburgh, sharing my dance moves and witty remarks with the people of Scotland. And watching the hockey game.

I really loved Britain. Such friendly people, delicious chips (fries), crisps (chips), and cherry coke were all consumed while there. They know how to please a lady.

Also, in kind of a hilarious turn of events, I leave Sweden only to enter my hostel room and find four half-naked male Swedes. They sort of say hello (barely) and I run to my top bunk to read Bridget Jones’ Diary and avoid eye-contact. After a few seconds, I put my Swedish to the test, and eavesdrop. Eventually, I decipher the word ‘flickan’ which means 'the girl.' Being that I am the only girl in the room, my Nancy Drew deduction skills lead me to the realisation that they have the balls to be talking about ME in Swedish, probably assuming I’m a uni-lingual American. The nerve!

(Actually, I am way more excited that my knowing some Swedish has actually proved useful outside of Sweden once in my life, so I’m not really that mad about the rudeness.)
I listen for the next 25 minutes. Eventually, they start debating over which one of them will ask me if it’s ok to turn off the lights. ‘You do it, Benny.’’ ‘No way, I don’t want to, you do it Anders.’’ ‘It’s Kalle’s turn!’ this goes on for three minutes. Finally, in a dramatic fashion, I put my book down and say, ‘Sure, you can turns the lights off. I’m done reading.’ Now, the looks on their faces are imprinted in my mind in the category of : fuck you, Swedes. They are speechless. I offer a concession: I live in Sweden, I tell them, and I understood you. Goodnight.
The next day, you better believe they were f-ing friendly. One even said, ‘So. . . you understood us?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘You know we were just joking when we were talking about you, right?’ ‘Oh. . . (deadpan) yeah.’
Anyways, they turned out to be decent. One of them works in Borås. We clearly bonded over our mutual hatred of it. I spoke to them in broken Swedish. They slept wearing essentially nothing.
When I had to leave at 4 am the next morning, you better believe I made a little more noise than I needed. Labrosse: 2. Swedes: 0

London was crazy with the Royal Wedding, but I ignored it as best I could. Sweden actually came up again over the trip. I was getting cheap tickets to a musical one night, and then man selling me the ticket at the ticketbooth looked at my credit card and said: ‘You don’t really sound Swedish.’ I explained I just lived there for now. He asked me how it was. A bit boring, I said. He agreed, saying he’d once been to a really small town, where there was one pub that stayed open till maybe 2. He went to support his football club. His team was playing Elsborg. He was in Borås. Boy did we have a laugh when I told him that’s where I live. I consider that man to be one of the best friends I’ve made this year.

In the interest of time (I know no one is still reading, anyways) I will just say that I absolutely loved Edinburgh. Such friendly and warm people, despite the cool climate.

Again, here are some photos of the goodtimes I had! I’ll be back, for sure.



Tower Bridge (Actually, I always thought this was London Bridge. Boy did I feel silly when I found out I was wrong)


Fantastic and incredibly moving play. I want to live this close to live theatre.


The ''globe''. Well, the closest I will ever get to the globe.

Needs no caption.

T.S Eliot's office! Part of the nerdy literary tour I joined! amazing!


Inside Churchill's Underground War Rooms. This was part of the map room. My dream is maps this large.

Fun fun fun musical!


Afternoon tea. How British. (and delicious)


Tourist photo! Also, notice the rain jacket. THIS was the rain day.


Edin at night!


The castle.


Dolly the sheep! Rotating!

The first part of Arthur's Seat. Believe you me, the other side is STEEP.


I'm king of the world! Yes, King.



Irnbru! The soft drink that outsells coke. . . in Edinburgh.
Loved it!

''Home'' - photos de Paris

After what can only be described as an amazing eleven days, I embrace the ability to lie on my couch-bed for hours.

It was a fantastic trip, and for now, I will let a select few pictures and my ever-so-witty (not) comments do the talking. Highlights were the fries (chips) in the U.K, cadbury nutella, The Children's Hour (the best play I've ever seen), Montmartre, the Sewer museum (I was probably born as a sewer rat) and the weather. Well, I'm sure there was more. If Megan reads this, Scabby Nose was surely a plus.

I know, I know, I'm a lucky son of a bitch for getting to travel this much. But, I have possibly eaten my weight in food, so there's some poetic justice after all.



Bonjour Paris! Bonjour Arche de Triomphe! Salut Champs Élysées! I was a pro at getting strangers to take my photo for me. Downside: sometimes they contain other people in the photos. Sometimes they were just awful.



Roller-hockey players. . in Paris? One was clearly a Sens fan (the one wearing the Sens jersey). My Canadian pride wanted to put on roller blades and school them. Instead, I sneakily took a photo.



On top of Paris, sommet de la tour Eiffel. :) Another stranger photo! I'm outgoing now. (and yes, that is a Marché frais bag. Hot off the streets of Paris.)



Pour mon ami Brandon, who clearly belongs in Paris.




Les égouts! History of Paris's sewers, in the sewers. I really didn't mind the smell.


Me voici au Moulin Rouge. C'était mon film préféré pendant mon adolescence.
J'adore Montmarte. (Not pictured: the plastic grocery bad I carried for the duration of my trip. Later to be mocked.)


Amélie! Au restaurant!


Jim.



''. . . Wilde is on mine'' (Covered in kisses)



Street art in Paris. Artistic, deep, wonderful.






French puns! If you don't speak French, this is the moment you should be kicking yourself, as this is truly a kick-ass pun. This was a bookstore.





. . . and I think I'll post London and Edinburgh pictures later!
Except for this sweet one of me immediately after having climbed Arthur's Seat up the most indirect and dangerous route, only to later discover a much more reasonable path. As you can see by this photo, not many people make it to the top. . . . this is why I am so happy.

(winning)

I'm off!

Borås - Göteborg - London- Paris -London - Glasgow - Edinburgh - Gothenburg - Borås

HAPPINESS

The Beautiful Swedish Sky

There's only one thing I have to say: the colours of the sky in Sweden are incredible. At least thirty times this year I've looked up and thought: wow.

The blues and pinks and the way it fades from the horizon to the top of the sky. Pictures don't do it justice. It really is fantastic.

Thanks for that, Sweden.

I live in a garbage house

Det finns 6 skoldagar till jag ska åker till Stor Britanien för resan.

Loosely (very loosely) translated, that should say something about six more school days until I'll be in the U.K. My plan so far is to fly into London, and eventually end up in Edinburgh. I'm pretty excited, and it does feel surreal, because I've always wanted to see London and much else of the U.K, but I always put it off, maybe because I feel like I want to wait for that 'perfect moment.'

It's the same with Paris. I'm dying to go, but the timing is never perfect. It's always too short, too out of the way, or too something else. Maybe I'm afraid I've built it up too much, kind of like how I feel about the U.K. Essentially, taking English Lit at Ottawa U, almost everything we focused on has roots in the U.K. I want to see it all, everything I've read about. Clearly, in ten days, I'll have to settle for the Cliffs Notes version.

Nothing is less and more fun at the same time than marking essays from students who have other mother tongues other than English. The awkward phrases that come up keep it interesting.

In apartment news, I officially released my apartment, which means people are starting to come see it. Well, they WERE going to start today, apparently. I got a phone call from a woman who only spoke Swedish, and I had to explain that , no, she could not come today. I don't know how to say 'shit pit' or 'there is garbage in every imaginable corner' in Swedish, so I settled for, 'Come tomorrow, I must clean this night. Yes, tomorrow please.' Well, it probably sounded much worse.
Swedish lessons: thank you for teaching me the word clean, but not garbage.

Goodnight my three blog friends, good night.