Memories of Sweden  

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I keep talking about Sweden, but I don't think I've ever shared my personal memories. Time to do so.

Sweden-SucksIn the past, I mentioned Sweden’s creativity when talking about the safety belt, and when discussing Evil / Ondskan as well as Lilja 4-ever, and posted a video clip with Swedish children on God in the article about the obsolete and pre-Christian ritualism of the Romanian Orthodox Church. But these are all just small reasons to love Sweden. Most of my reasons are not really “reasons” but rather emotional memories, accumulated during a trip I took there many years ago.

While hopping from Scandinavian to Baltic to Scandinavian country I took the ferry quite a few times, and though many crazy things happened on that ferry, mostly involving drunk, aggressive teenage girls, that still wasn’t it.

I’m not particularly inspired to tell this story today, but the fear of losing these memories is a medium-strength motivator.

* * *

Don’t remember how I got to this magical Stockholm night club; there was something in the air that night, to quote Abba. Everybody seemed happy, there was a good mix of nationalities and races, the sex ratio was 1.3:1 or so on the beautiful side, the music was good – not too housy, but not too grundgy either. I sat down, getting a feel of that large space and was considering getting a drink, when some cocky dude sat down next to me, introduced himself and struck up a conversation, offering me a beer. He mentioned being a football (soccer) player and I assumed he was just a fan who also played and not just watched. I muted my fear that he might be coming on to me and told him, among other things, how much I liked the place and he expressed his admiration for Romanian women, asking me what I think about the Swedish chicks. I answered that the combination of good looks, height and good education was tough to beat. He replied “Nah, they’re all bitches here. Let’s go dance.”

There hadn’t been much action on the dance floor up to that point, but for some reason, when he went there, a bunch of girls stormed it dancing all around him all competing for his attention. I decided to dance as well and soon enough, a few entered my sphere of influence, but not for long – sadly for me, his gravity pull was stronger (this seldom happens to me which is perhaps this is a very pregnant memory). Still, it ended up a pretty good night.

* * *

Stockholm was left behind. I don’t remember where I was; I had followed my “Let’s Go Europe” book to some university town with a statue on the shore. Seeing that statue was even more anticlimactic than seeing the Grand Canyon. I left the high winds on the shore finding some respite on the sheltered but somewhat deserted streets of this supposed student town. I had expected to see some reasons for that status and none were apparent.

By then, I had received a fatidic letter and was soon going to return to Canada, having abandoned my plans to live in a Scandinavian country for 1 year – I had found work in both Finland and Norway but had yet to make choice. I was quite disturbed by the news and to be completely honest, had hesitated before choosing to return to Canada and let all my carefully laid plans go to waste. Oh well, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

As I was walking consumed by my thoughts, got a bit lost then I encountered a group of 5-6 girls who seemed to know where they were going. I asked for directions and they were as happy to see me as I was to see them (I’m only talking about smiles, BTW). They were all quite alright but among them, one super-beauty. I tried hard to seem neutral, and somehow mask the fact that my jaw had dropped on the floor, but her smile had that “here we go again / you’re cute” tinge.

We walked along our common route, and I somehow stayed behind, having had to collect my jaw off the floor. The girls seemed to suddenly have come to life, debating some subject obscured by the language barrier. One of them even had a Cinderella shoe problem and also was a little left behind, walking next to me, but I had no eyes or ears for her. When our paths diverged we talked a bit more and finally, the Princess let it be known that in the evening they’ll be mini-golfing – then paused, looking at me.

Now, I could have probably transformed that blank statement into an invitation, but, overcome by guilt (my relative was dying and here I was chasing skirts in Sweden) as well as fear that she wasn’t going to be there or be with a date, chose to pass. It wasn’t an easy decision; I still remember the painful node in my throat as I said good bye to turn around.

I didn’t have a camera (or the batteries were dead), so all I have left is a memory of my feelings and the few notes I scribbled in my travel journal..

Sources / More info: fb

Thank you for reading (mulţam fain pentru cetire)! Publicat Saturday, March 16, 2013 . Similar articles under the following categories (poţi găsi articole similare sub următoarele categorii): (Subscribe), (Subscribe), (Subscribe) . Dacă ţi-a plăcut articolul, PinIt-uieste-l, ReddIt-eaza-l, stumble-uieste-l altora, trimite-l pe WhatsApp yMess şi consideră abonarea la fluxul RSS sau prin email. Ma poti de asemenea gasi pe Google. Trackback poateputea fi trimis prin URL-ul de sub Comentarii.
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