Malta, my love!

I made it to the airport last Wednesday morning, excited about my adventure to Malta. I woke around 6:45am, enjoyed some cereal and stuffed the last of my things into my champion of suitcases, the lovely carryon. We’ll call her Carrey. I left my apartment building 25 minutes before my bus would be leaving to insure enough time to figure this thing out. As I blazed the way with Carrey on these cobblestone streets, I believe I helped wake even the deaf. This weather and these streets are not conducive for dragging a bag with wheels, as it sounds like a jet coming down the runway. Thanks to the janitor of the bus station, I got on the right bus. My ticket says ‘Nykoping Busstn’ and the bus I was to get on said ‘Stockholm’. I don’t know if I just suck at inferring the obvious but I wouldn’t have known to get on that bus. Thank God people are gracious and I’m not afraid to ask for help. There was one stop in alsdkfjj where I got off the Swebus and bought a ticket for the local bus which brought me to the airport. The Swebus trip was 3 hours and there were no stops for a bathroom break. When we arrived at the station the first thing I did was look for a restroom. You can use the restroom there, but your going to have to pay. It cost 5 Kroner or approx .75 cents. I felt like I should stay in there a couple minutes after I was finished. Use the dryer a couple times. Blot my face with some toilet paper. Fill up my water bottle in the sink.

Going through security was pretty hilarious. Since I’ve only got Carrey with me, it was fairly simple. I decided to go ahead and bring my pepper spray because I was traveling alone and I would feel better if I had something to back up my kung fu.  Not that it’s ever failed me before, but having a plan B never hurts. The man behind the computer tells his sidekick to pull my bag and have a look. Aw shit, caught! The man opens my bag and pulls out my 2 containers of face wash, shampoo and conditioner, and my toothpaste. He runs Carrey back through and my hygiene products separately. I was prepared to rat myself out assured he was going to say, “There’s something else in here we see, were going to need you to pull your things out.” But no. He informs me he’ll have to confiscate my toothpaste because it is over 100ml. So I walk away without any toothpaste but still possessing a potentially harmful substance if utilized while aboard the plane.

The flight was great. A bit crammed and without the luxurious extras, but we made it. I sat next to the nicest duo, a Swedish woman and her mother. “Muma” was 85 years old and the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen, besides my grannies of course. As we began the descent, the plane was bouncing around a bit and making me nervous. Muma says “No scare!” and grabs my hand and squeezes it tight. She held my hand for the remaining 30 minutes of the flight until we had landed safely. I wanted to put her in my pocket and take her with me she was so precious.

As expected, everything went smooth and there was a friendly looking Maltese man waiting at the exit with a sign that had my name on it. This taxi ride had given me some mental grief and anguish as it makes me uneasy to be in a country I’ve never been, have a strange man put me in his vehicle, and then ride off into the night without my knowing in which direction is the right one. We chatted it up and I felt good about things. The street signs also signified we were headed to the town I was staying in so that permitted some relief. I was amazed at how beautiful the island was at night. The city skyline was absolutely beautiful as we wound through the streets and countryside. Domes, castles, and cathedrals were lit up from miles away. It was amazing already and I’d just arrived. When I got to the hotel I was very pleased to learn that the $22/night room I’d booked was very nice. It pays off to travel in the off-season. I took a bath and slept like a baby.

I woke up early Thursday morning to have breakfast and find something fun to do for the day. The continental breakfast was amazing! Seriously anything you could want. One morning I made the mistake of going down around 8:30, just when all the families staying at the hotel were ready to chow down. Little boys and girls were running back and forth filling up their plates with Nutella. “But its like peanut butter mom!” they’d exclaim with a mouthful. I went to the front desk and asked where I could find brochures etc on things to do. She pointed to a reception desk with a lady behind it and said she could help me. I booked two bus tours on different days that would show me various areas around the island, a day jeep tour where you take a fairy to Gozo and explore, and the Malta Extravaganza which is like dinner and a show. I did the South tour my first day there and it was one of the best days of my life!

By 9:30am I was off and headed down the coast. It took about an hour to get to Sliema, a coastal city situated next to Valetta. From there I caught the South Tour bus that would take me along the southern part of the island. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I was absolutely freaking out in my mind. Everything was so beautiful. Malta has such variation; harbors, narrow city streets, farmland, rocky and sandy beaches, etc. 

At one point I was bumping along a dirt road atop the bus completely alone, just having the time of my life, laughing hysterically as if their was a comedian aboard. I cant imagine what the bus driver down below was thinking as I knew he was aware I was the only passenger up there. The sun was shining and the landscape absolutely stunning. I don’t think you could have slapped the smile off my face. I was just so happy I’d made the decision to come and faced the concern of traveling alone. I actually loved being alone. I do a great job keeping myself company and many times during the trip I was glad not to have to talk. It’s nice to be internally focused rather than externally from time to time. When we arrived at the fishing port I got off the bus and walked around. I bought some cookies and almonds from a man with a stand at the market. I took a seat on a bench right next to the water to relax and eat my goodies while watching the fisherman work on their boats. Pure bliss. 

I continued on around the island, taking a million pictures of everything. I love how all of the houses/flats/condos all have these great balconies. The colors used on the doors and windows are bright and beautiful with rod iron decorative accents against the stone façade of the building. I couldn’t paint it more perfect if I tried. When we arrived back in Sliema I walked around for an hour and half before catching the transport back to my hotel. I scoped out all kinds of boutiques with wonderful things I wanted to buy but I decided I would wait until I came back on Sunday to shop. When I arrived back at my hotel I had approximately an hour to get ready before my ride would pick me up for the Malta Extravaganza Dinner and Show.

I was the first stop that evening and at first I thought, “Damn, this massive bus just for me!” but he proceeded to stop at many hotels filling every seat. I didn’t mind another evening ride, as simply looking out the window at this beautiful place was enough for me to be very happy. After a little over an hour we arrived at our destination. We got front row seats, as the place wasn’t that packed. I got a little nervous when the horsemen came out and one couldn’t get his to behave. They all seemed a bit inexperienced. Prediction confirmed. They were all very inexperienced. It’s always a bad sign when the same person plays multiple roles. It brought me back to Ocotober 2008 when I auditioned to be a dancer on a cruise ship. If I’d of known the caliber of talent in Malta, this would have been first stop, as I probably would have landed the leading role.  Anyway, It was still entertaining and comical, but for reasons other than what they were aiming for. The food was good and wine plentiful.

Friday I woke up early and waited for the bus to pick me up for the Jeep tour on Gozo Island. The ferry was fun and again the sun was shining and it was projected to be a beautiful day. An older couple from England and myself met our guide outside the port. Malta gained their independence from the British in 1964 but relations are good and many from the UK vacation in Malta. Majority of the couples I met were from England. Most people boarded these buses that held 15-50 people. The jankiest jeep in the parking lot was our baby for the day and we excitedly crawled in the back seat. 

Our first stop was at the Ggantija Temples which is one of the oldest standing buildings in the world. The temple consists of two temple units enclosed by a single boundary wall. They were constructed by farmers and herders over several hundred years, between 3600-3000 BC, using local limestone a couple of miles away. At that time the wheel hadn't been invented so it is believed small, round stones were used as ball bearings to transport the rocks. Can you imagine?? Rituals of life and fertility were practiced within the walls for about 1,000 years until the Maltese Temple Culture disappeared abruptly. It was an amazing feeling walking around the grounds where so much history has unfolded. 

We then proceeded to many beautiful places along the island. When we stopped at window rock the guide gave us 30 minutes to check things out. I walked along the water-riddled rock taking in the stunning sight. A Maltese man, 40 something with long hair and weather warn skin, approached me and said, “Beautiful day isn’t it?” I gave a smile and agreed. The small talk continued for a minute until I realized he was trying to pick me up. I mentioned I had to go but he continued, suggesting I go check out this cave with him. Ha! Ok creeper, nice one but no thanks. I was happy when our guide flagged me over because it was time to go. 

We stopped for lunch and I had the most amazing caprese salad. Across the street was a private school and all the kiddos were out for recess. I watched them beat up on each other while having to restrain myself from walking over and reprimanding them for picking on one another. You couldn’t pay me to go back to middle school. Our next stop was the city center and we had an hour and half to walk around. I went my separate way from my fellow passengers and walked around the city streets. It was almost eerie as everything was closed and not many people were around. Everything closes in the afternoon and then opens back up from 4-7pm. So why the hell he would take us there at 1:30, I’ll never know. There was this massive church/fort he suggested we check out so I walked there. It was amazing! You could see the entire island as it was certainly perched at the highest point. It was used as a look out for invaders. The very top was like a rooftop garden. 

I was so exhausted I decided to lie down for about 30 minutes and stare at the sky. When I realized I was steering people clear of checking out the view from where I was, I decided to get up. Our last stop was this cute little town on the water, known for its great scuba diving. There was a peer with a really nice walk way and lots of benches, so I decided to take a stroll. From behind me I hear, “Beautiful day isn’t it?” I had to double take as I thought it was that same guy from window rock. This time it was a thirty something Gozien man (you’re Maltese if you’re from Malta and Gozien if you’re from Gozo) with long hair, a rough exterior, and the scent of cigarettes that could knock you off your feet. I responded in agreeance and we awkwardly walked together while he attempted to spit game. We chatted a bit but I was beginning to become annoyed at my sightseeing time being hijacked by these intruders. He said he would come to Malta and we could get coffee if I’d like, but I politely said no, thank you. He kept saying, “Well it's up to you but I wouldn’t mind coming to Malta and we could have good conversation and a cappuccino… etc etc.” I’d love to know the success rate of these guys who prey on tourists. That’s a list I’d like to stay off of. The day came to a close and after all the excitement I was so ready for a shower and my bed.

Saturday was my relaxing day. I booked a facial and pedicure and made hanging out and eating main priority. I walked around various places in Melleiha and worked the camera a little bit. It was so nice and I enjoyed every minute of it.

My last day in town I decided I would catch the bus to Sliema. I met a wonderful couple from England  and they filled my head with all kinds of traveling ideas. They are both retired after working 40 years and are just now able to relax and travel. To bad you can’t travel when you’re young and make money when you’re old. I want to find a way to combine the two. There was this little old lady who got on the bus and bless her heart. She needed help on the bus, then her walker was rolling all over the place, she couldn’t find her ticket when the man came around to collect them… though we were all helping her I could tell the poor thing was so distressed. I arrived just in time for the 10am church service in Sliema. I sat in a chair in the back and to the side but was quickly frustrated that I couldn’t see the priest or the beautiful ceiling in the center of the church. I decided to snag a better seat so I got up and walked to the front, took a right turn to the center where the pews were and there he was, the Priest, dead center and right in front of me. I went ahead and quickly took a seat. The service was in Maltese I’m guessing. I mumbled, moving my lips to the songs as not to stick out from the rest or appear disrespectful. The priest spoke for about 25 minutes, hunched over the podium with the holy book in front, as he spoke passionately with his fist raised. I nodded as in agreement throughout the service as the man was practically speaking to me. I haven’t been to church in over a year and it’s been at least 9 since I attended a Catholic service one Easter Sunday. I went up for Communion and after dislodging the wafer from the roof of my mouth, pulled off the sign of the cross quit nicely. The service was over and I was reminded why I quit going to church in the first place. Removed from the distraction and in the comfort of my home, I can find myself much closer to the divine in a 30-minute meditation. None the less, I'm glad I went as most on the island are Roman Catholic and they take great pride in their place of worship.

After realizing every clothing shop was closed on Sunday, I settled for a cozy pizzeria on the waterfront. I practically ate the place empty as I was there for a couple of hours before my ride would take me back to the hotel.

My trip home went well though it consisted of 12 hours of hopping from taxi, plane, bus, another bus, and then the home stretch on foot. I get to do it all over again on Thursday!

All in all, I suggest Malta for a vacation any day. It is very safe, everyone speaks English, getting around is very easy and inexpensive, and the people are so friendly. So theres my plug for Malta, cheers!

Ps I am studying a little.

L

Don't sweat the petty stuff and don't pet the sweaty stuff

I have been so let down and hurt by my current coffee situation. At first, I was buying coffee and usually a pastry or two every morning. Then I decided I better buy coffee grounds from the grocery and learn how to use this French coffee maker thingy. So I did, and it was amongst the most offensive taste that has yet to hit my palate. I bought some new, more expensive, coffee grounds that were suggested to me and gave it try the following day. I felt nauseous for hours. Practically bed ridden with a stomachache and headache, I lay in my bed cursing the creator of that horrid coffee. After hours of recovery, I decided it was in the best interest of my health to give up the addiction. No more warm, soothing cup of coffee in the morning to start my day. Maybe it will indirectly help me cut down on the sweets as well. You know you’ve become a fat kid when you get seriously pissed about your muffin purchase because the good stuff is only on top and not throughout. I want more chocolate chips and pecans damnit!

Swedish women are truly beautiful. Fair skin, light eyes, typically thin- maybe because they all smoke, and of course, beautiful blonde locks. Though not scientifically proven, they could potentially be smarter than a man-made blonde simply due to the lack of ammonium seeping into their scalp every 6 weeks since they were 15. In theory, this could lead to higher brain cell count and therefore superior function. If not a biological difference there is certainly a physical one. Haven’t seen a dark root on a light haired head since I arrived. It’s quite easy to feel like an ugly duckling next to all these swans flocking around. My goal first and foremost is to keep warm when I leave my apartment, which means I mostly feel like the abominable snowman clunking down the street.  Wait until I can shed these layers ladies, this southern belle, though frightful in the winter, sure knows how to shine in the summer time!

Far more people smoke here than in the US. I just want to walk up to them, flick it out of their hand and bark, “Don’t you know smoking quit being cool in 90’s?!?!” I refrain for multiple reasons. 1. I probably wouldn’t make any new friends and 2. They could retort quickly about my boot cut jeans and unkempt ponytail.

Vodka, unfortunately, seems to be the alcoholic beverage of choice in Sweden. When I asked why, after silence filled the room, a guy explained this is where Absolut amongst many other types of vodka are made. Well not to offend kind sir BUT it's still gross. They should take some advise from their neighbors, the UK and home to my drink of choice, Tanqueray, about the processes and creation of alcohol. 

It's funny how things that wouldn’t make you uncomfortable at home, can make you very self-conscious in another country. I’ll speak for myself but I have found many times I act silly over things I wouldn’t otherwise think twice about in the US. I was at the grocery store the other day when I picked up a bag of spaghetti and the plastic packaging broke and spaghetti went everywhere in my little roller cart. (This small plastic basket that is similar in size to the ones you hold but it rolls on the ground and you pull it) I was so embarrassed!! Back home I would have laughed, nudged the lady who saw, and made a joke. Here, I wanted to roll into a ball and die. I tried picking up the spaghetti and placed as much of it as I could on a box and continued shopping. I left quickly though as some remaining pieces were sticking out the sides of my basket and I felt like everyone was staring at the trail of evidence I was leaving from my disaster. Ordering food is also a biggie. When I go to the mall I just stare at the menu and because I don’t know what the hell anything says, I just move onto the next feeling like I have “Foreigner” written all over my forehead. Everywhere I go I feel lost, except for my usual paved paths of course, and it’s exhausting. I’m sure no one even notices me but I feel like Waldo in a sea of people and everyone’s eyes are on me, watching my every move so they can pin me down! Eventually, I'm sure, this madness will subside.

There is a nightclub under my apartment building. An older male, younger female kind of nightclub. They bump music Friday and Saturday until 2 am, which reverberates through the whole building, and then until approx 3 am you get to listen to drunken stragglers yelling in various languages. I’ve purchased earplugs but have accepted the fact that on the weekends I will not be going to sleep until at least after 3. Orrrr maybe I’ll go join them. I could use the extra money. My parents always said, “Shake what yo’ momma gave ya!” Just kidding, no they didn’t. But seriously, I might.

So I did book a trip and leave to Malta, an island off the coast of Italy, this coming Wednesday. I felt like such a big girl as it was the first time I’d ever planned a trip without the help and input from someone else. I’m going all by myself for 5 days and 4 nights. Sooo excited!! I went ahead and booked a taxi ahead of time so I don’t await another public transportation disaster to kick-start my vacation. I look forward to letting you know all about it. Until then, I’ll continue to listen to my Bulgarian neighbor rap to Eminem.

Lots of love,

L

The land of the Swedes

I just went out for a stroll through the city of Jonkoping in the downtown area. Everyone and their mother was out, to use that phrase literally, grandma was tagging along too. During orientation week I was told that Swedish men aim for a balance between their masculine and feminine side. Over 15 years ago men actually began fighting the courts for equal parental leave rights after their children were born. The daddy leave was enacted in 1995 and has been a growing trend throughout other parts of Europe, such as Germany, where more than 20% of fathers also take paternity leave. In Portugal one week is mandatory and Iceland gives 3 months to each parent and then 3 more months to be shared amongst the couple and split as they choose. Pretty cool! I found in an article that said over 85% of Swedish men take paternity leave and it is typically frowned upon if not. So I began to look more closely today and observe this “gender role equalization.” It proved to be very true as I surveyed the crowds of people. Heavy-duty strollers are everywhere here. Packed inside, a lot of blanket and a little bit of baby, with nothing but eyes and nose poking out. There were many men who walked around by themselves with a child in a stroller or one or two children on his sides. Then if there were a couple with a child, the majority of the time it was the man pushing the stroller or holding the child. Now that’s my kind of masculine!

You can always tell a local from a visitor. See, I never knew a scarf wasn’t just a decoration for your neck or an extension of your wardrobe. Its purpose is actually to keep your neck warm. I, and the others from warmer climates, walk around with a scrap of cloth tied around our necks and the locals practically have a bed sheet draped around their face. I think I’ll be making an investment soon as my trachea will surely thank me.

Chores were assigned this week. Who gets to clean the porcelain throne?? None other than your highness. I'll be the best toilet scrubber in the land upon my return.

When I introduce myself to any girl and say my name is Lindsey and I am from the US, you’ll never guess consensus on what comes to mind first. Lindsey Lohan, of course. Nice. Way to fuck it up for the rest of the Lindsey’s in the world Lohan. I’m hoping she gets the role of Elizabeth Taylor in her upcoming movie and nails it. Potential redemption of her otherwise tainted reputation.

The whole class situation is working out a bit different than I planned. The semester is divided into two terms. So I’ll take a total of 4 classes, two each term. One of my classes doesn’t start until next Monday and the other one is apparently online and won’t have any lectures. I went to buy my books today. I was directed to the dungeon of a building, and inside a very tiny room sat a cute girl with a computer and two bookshelves. I’d arrived at the bookstore. I asked about my two books and she says, “Oh, I’ve been looking for that book and cant find it anywhere!” I asked if anyone else in my class had come to buy that book. She said no. The other book I was required to get is in all Swedish. What the hell is going on here?? The bumps in the road are beginning to give me whip lash and I’m finding my patience wearing. At home classes are Monday, Wednesday, Friday or Tuesday, Thursday and the class times are consistent throughout the entire semester and assignments start as soon as classes start. As for my other real class, we meet at random times on random days. My first assignment for research methods, the online course, is due the Jan. 27^th. I’ll probably finish it today. I really don’t know what to think. I’m used to having 4 group projects, papers, and exams going at all times. I had a bit of a break down last night. Being so out of control and with so much time on my hands, I’m realizing what a stickler I am, or was. My schedule and regimentation has been so deeply engrained the last three years that taking it away has left me with a tight fist and sore jaw. Though I expect the unwinding to be a bit of a slow process, I am determined to do so for if not, this will surely become an unenjoyable adventure. I think being forced to enjoy the process is a great life lesson as our preconceived notions and expectations only stifle the pure enjoyment you can get out of experiences. I read a statement not long ago that went something like, “For she lived every day like it was her last… and then it wasn’t.” I think that is my biggest fear. If I am not grinding at all times how am I ever going to make something of myself? Achieve my goals? Provide for my family? Become respected? Make a difference in the world? ARRR ARR. Maybe the key is taking steps towards your goals and making good use of your time but most importantly, enjoying the moments that take you there.

To take advantage of my time off and flexibility of this lovely online course, I’ve been busy planning my next ventures. I’m not really interested in seeing a bunch of big cities so I’ve googled beautiful small cities in Europe and have found some amazing places. By using Ryanair.com, you can fly pretty much anywhere in Europe for around or under $150. I have already booked a ticket to Ireland for the first week in February and am looking at taking a trip the last week of this month, though I don’t know where yet. South for sure, as I think my bodies already used it’s reserve of vitamin D from lack of sunshine.

I hope all is well back home! Thanks to everyone for all the wonderful encouragement and kind words. Hej da (Goodbye) for now!

L

My first week as an international student.

Omg. I think my tongue just had an orgasm. I woke up extra early this morning and as quietly as possible, got ready and walked downtown in search of breakfast. Oh did I find it. Everything is so fresh, moist, and flavorful. It is 8 am and the sun hasn’t even set yet. It gets light late and dark early. The thought of a cold, dark place seemed so depressing but it’s not in the slightest. The scenery is beautiful despite the gloomy weather. I keep in mind I’ve been here all of 5 days. We’ll see if I’m singing the same tune in a couple of months. I have never felt so safe in my life. Those of you who know me understand what a big deal that is. I’m the girl who keeps a hammer and pepper spray by her bed and plans a get away if someone was to break in. Another thing I love about here is that I can drink straight from the tap!! I can’t tell you how much money I spend on water bottles in the US. They don’t even sell water bottles in the supermarket because there is no demand for them. Awesome! The streets are clean and buildings well kept and picturesque. The people are kind and well dressed. It is as quaint as you’d imagine. I love it.

After my hectic travels, I slept like a baby. I didn’t have Internet, my phone, an alarm clock, or even a watch with me. I woke up when I wanted and got ready for the day. I was supposed to be up at the University for a meeting at 1:30, or should I say 13:30. When I finally crawled out of my dorm I asked a man on the street what time it was. 1:45. Nice, right on time. The Sweds are known for their organization and timeliness. This is something I am going to have to work on. I have learned this week, being on time for any occasion is the biggest form of respect for Swedish people, and being on time means arriving 5 minutes early. When I got to campus, of course I couldn’t find a soul who knew where I was supposed to go. I was pointed to a room and walked in on someone auditioning for drama. I waved and retracted quickly. I decided to leave and do what I wanted. I walked around, went to the supermarket, cleaned my room and put my things away. It was nice. Around 6pm I was leaving to get food and noticed a girl going into her room on my floor. She stopped and looked faint as she introduced herself. “Oh my gosh, I’ve been so lonely! Where are all the people? I’m so glad your here!”  She had arrived on Saturday and was in this big building practically by herself poor girl. She’s from Slavonia, by Italy. Different from Slovakia, by Hungary. My pitiful geography. I am going to memorize Europe’s map. The guy in the room next to me is from Bulgaria. Say what?? It’s above Greece if you didn’t know either.  I’ve decided not to ask many questions when it comes to where the people I meet come from. I’ll do the research on my own and not look like a dumbass thank you. I have a standard I must set for Americans, and myself, because I’ve already been pinned as an arrogant, self righteous, lazy, corrupt, unhealthy, bully, piece of shit just for being a citizen of the USA. He was German, and had no problem capitalizing on my weaknesses and pinning typical American stereotypes on my character.  When he found out I was from the home of Wal-mart, I was truly a dead man. Filled with hate and completely untactful, horrible combination by the way, he gave it to me. You will all be proud to know I kept myself together and handled his rant with utmost respect and poise. For I felt he was the only one missing out on an opportunity to get to know an American, by acting as if he was genius for watching a couple Michael Moore documentaries. Anyway, I have my speech planned if that asshole chews in again.

With the exception of one, everyone is very kind and eager to get to know you. People from every walk of life. It is interesting at how easy it is to connect with other Americans and Canadians quickly and converse so casually and effortlessly. I find it a bit more difficult to connect as easily with the others from around Europe and such. The humor, word choice, and personalities vary so much from culture to culture.  For example, a Russian girl started singing twinkle, twinkle, little star when we were walking, I guess to be funny, and I didn’t know what the hell to say. Is that something funny back home? A guy the other day asked if I had been drinking because I was laughing so much when we were talking. I wasn’t, I guess I just laugh more than most. I will say something I think is funny and I’ll just get a straight face. Our last meeting for orientation this week was about culture integration and he mentioned just that. He said, “Have any of you told a joke this week and it landed on flat silence?” Everyone laughed as if they knew exactly what he was talking about. Phew, I’m not the only idiot babbling, grasping for even a slight smile. It’s just that what we find funny varies from culture to culture. Anyway, it has been really fun getting to meet all kinds of new people. They motivate me to work hard here, as they are all very ambitious, intelligent individuals.

The one thing that I’ll admit is very “American,” is the fact that I only know English. I think I am literally the only international student who knows only one language. I am diffidently taking it upon myself to learn Swedish while here because that is just pathetic. A guy in my dorm went to language school for two years and knows over a dozen languages fluently. How the hell am I going to compete in the job market with these bastards! I guess it wont be much of a problem if I work in the US, but how limiting is that?! Come on’ guys, we need to step it up!

We went out last night and I left money on the counter for the bartender as a tip. A guy comes running up to me with it and says, “You left your money on the counter!” Apparently they don’t tip here… even ice cream stores have a tip jar for the minimum wage employee in the US these days.

Whelp.. fun stuff and I’m sure the excitement and learning will only continue. I’ll write again after school has started and let you know how classes go. Xo

L

My two-day venture to Jonkoping!

What a wild ride. I’m am sitting in my room, though more like a shoebox, looking out my window onto the cutest cobblestone street, filled with coffee shops and boutiques, while eating some chocolate I just bought at the supermarket. I have arrived! It feels good to be here but man, am I in for a wild ride. Out of my comfort zone in EVERY sense of the word. So lets start with not yesterday, but the day before when this adventure first began. January 7^th, 2012.

Laying in my bed, my eyes sprung wide open at 6 am. Today was the day I’d been waiting for forever. I began cramming the last bit of things I needed to pack into my already full suitcases. When the shoving and cramming was accomplished, I was officially packed and ready to go. I double-checked I had everything I needed and at 9:30 am Dad, Jordan, and I headed to Tulsa to catch my flight. Of course, one of my bags was 13 pounds overweight and going to cost an extra $200. I don’t think so. I took a towel out, pj pants, and a couple misc things. A very sad, tear-filled goodbye was had between us. I then stood bravely in line at security. The thought of not seeing my family for half a year finally hit me and I couldn’t stop the tears. The man checking my ticket and passport hardly looked at my things as I’m sure my distracting sobs sidetracked his attention. I finally contained myself, caught my flight to Chicago, and was just fine.

Now, I didn’t mention why I was in the Dominican Republic earlier.. But I can’t really tell this story to it's full effect without giving details. I had breast augmentation surgery while there.. so at this point I was 7 days out of surgery. Still very sore and unable to lift anything heavy. So here I am traveling with two massive suitcases and a smaller, but nonetheless heavy, carryon and I’m not supposed to lift one of them myself. So here we go.

In Chicago my flight to Toronto was delayed and I was going to miss my connecting flight to Copenhagen. The gentleman at the ticket counter was able to get me on a Scandinavian flight leaving from Chicago at 10pm that was a non-stop flight to Copenhagen. Awesome! So I go to baggage claim and get my luggage so that it doesn’t get lost in the ticket change process. This was the beginning of my asking for help with lifting my luggage. I have to get to terminal 5 to check in at SAS for my flight. It was suggested I grab a taxi because I could not lift my luggage by myself and I couldn’t take my roller cart onto the tram with me. So I did. Only to get another roller cart and ask for help 4 more times before going through security again. So after 45 minutes of security check in, I find my gate. Except I’m there at 6:30 and my flight doesn’t leave until 10. There were no restaurants in the terminal gate area!!! I decided to bite the bullet and go back through security where there were restaurants. I got a smoothly and banana nut muffin, with approximately 1 walnut in the entire thing, and relaxed for a bit before tackling security again.  

It was time for takeoff and we all shuffled aboard the airbus! Yay, finally on my way! The trip went well and the food was excellent surprisingly. My only complaint was that I ended up sitting by a girl with a horrible cough. Coughing and laughing are the two things that hurt the most because it tightens up the chest muscle and is really painful. I double dosed on my vitamins. I arrived in Copenhagen around 11:30 am on January 8^th. I was able to find the train station easily and got a ticket to Hagen something. I had a story written in my head that the train ride would be comfortable and I’d find a seat with a table like the pictures showed and get on my computer while gazing out the window. I found my self inbetween the two train cars, sitting on my luggage in the doorway. It was such a hassle to get my luggage on board and the train was packed, I didn’t want to move. Wasn’t exactly the idyllic scene I had pictured. I did meet the nicest couple though and they totally saved my butt! The girl, who was probably my age, asked if I was studying abroad. I said yes and that I was going to Jonkoping. Both of them had studied at JIBS as well so we had a lot to talk about. I showed them my ticket and they both stared at it confused. They said that I should get off at Lund and catch another train to Jonkoping because where I was headed didn’t have a connecting train. So I listened and they kindly helped me lug my three suitcases to the ticket office across the train tracks. She gave me her information so that if I needed anything or was back in that area, I could be in touch. They were the cutest couple and said they meet each other at JIBS a year ago and are now living together in Lund. They had just gotten back from Mexico City, where he was from, and they had flown there together so she could meet his family. Wouldn’t it be fun if I were to be in a similar situation a year from now. They helped me buy a ticket to Jonkoping leaving in an hour or so. We said our goodbyes and there I was, standing alone with my luggage not really knowing what to do next. I just had to laugh. In order to get back over the train tracks where I was to board my next train, I had to figure out how I was going to get my luggage there. I knew I had a little time, so I just stood there thinking. Maybe someone would stop and ask if I needed help… but everyone was in such a hurry. Not many people even noticed I was standing there. When I finally realized I had to make a move I decided to take my carryon bag because it had my laptop, passport, and over $1,000, and one of my big suitcases. I took the elevator up and then realized there were numbers 1-5 and I would go down to that track according to what train I needed to catch. I left my big suitcase there and went back down for the other. When I got back up I decided to ask someone. After a couple of tries, no one knew and said I should go down to the office and ask. Easy if I didn’t have these three dang suitcases that weighed as much as a body bag. Finally, I decided to leave my two heavy ones at the top and go back down with just my carryon. At this point, I would have preferred the stupid things be stolen. When the lady at that train station saw my ticket she didn’t know how I had booked a ticket straight to Jonkoping. She said I would need to go to Nassjo and then catch another train to Jonkoping. She rebooked my ticket and said I would get onboard at the platform 4, and to head that way because it would be coming soon. So I once again lugged one suitcase at a time to where I needed to be. When the train came, it was as if a tidal wave was about to crash down on everyone and they were fleeing to save their lives. I ran to a lady who worked for the train and was trying to get everyone on board. I show her my ticket and ask if this is the train I need to get on. She says “Yes, car 7. Hurry!” My eyes popped open wide and I flashed an “Oh shit” face. I asked if she would help with my bags because I’ve had surgery and cant lift them. She yelled, “Bring them fast! Hurry!” I ran to them quickly and lugged them over. She lifted them aboard and sat them once again, in the doorway in-between rail cars. I thought, great, a two-hour train ride and I’ll be standing in the door way again. I asked her when I would be getting off and she says, “oh no, this is not the train you were to catch.” That’s when I could no longer choke back the tears. They began rolling down my cheeks as the thought of heading the wrong direction as dark approached and having to maneuver my bags again was just too much. She did some things on her phone and then wrote on my ticket the new times I would arrive at the stop in which I needed to switch trains. Oh… that’s not as bad as I thought. An extra 30 minutes is no biggie. At that point I felt silly but the women's english wasn't good enough for me to communicate my misunderstanding. What can you do? All was well and I left my luggage in the doorway and found a seat. The train ride was peaceful and I enjoyed looking out the window at the countryside. I had two hours to relax until I needed to move again.

When my stop was approaching, I didn’t want to move. I was so warm and comfortable. I asked a man to help me get my luggage off the train for me. The train lady came running to me and said, “You need to get to that side and take that train.” Great, another bridge. The train was waiting and labeled Jonkoping so I knew once I got my bags over there, I was on the right train. There was snow on the ground and it was freezing. There weren’t many people around and I was so tired of bugging people to help me. I dragged one bag at a time up the elevator, over the bridge, back down and into the train. As I approached with the second bag a man said, “Train leaving in 5 minutes!” I ran back over to the other side, grabbed my third bag, and ran as fast as I could muster back to the train. Just in time. I sat down with my 3 suitcases and the train began to move. Next stop Jonkoping.

We arrived 45 minutes later. I got off the train and found the nearest bench. It wasn’t clearly explained where I would be picked up by the accommodation office. I looked around to hopefully find what looked like students. I asked a couple of people and got a couple of strange looks. I wasn’t having any luck where I was so I decided to move. One bag at a time, I parked myself, and all my things, at a café table. Food! Omg I hadn’t eaten in hours. I got some food and connected to the Internet. I asked the lady working the café if she knew anything about JIBS picking up students and a meeting area. She said she didn’t know but right there was a big sign saying “Jonkoping University Meeting Area”... Ah ha. That would be it. I missed the 4 o clock pick up time I had signed up for. It was now a little after 8pm. I sat on the bench and waited by myself. After about 15 minutes a Canadian guy walked over with his two suitcases and sat down next to me. We talked for about 30 minutes until the university driver showed up to get us.

We went to the accommodation office and got the keys and paperwork for our housing. We went to my place first so they could both help with my luggage. Damn luggage. The man asked where I had surgery. I told him on my shoulders. Of course the elevator didn’t work so those poor guys had to lug my heavy ass bags up 4 flights of stairs. Finally the moment I’d been waiting for. My room, and most importantly at this point, my bed. Its small and all white but home for the next 6 months. I’d been dreaming of a warm shower and good night sleep. The shower was big enough for my body and allowed only the ability to turn around if you keep your hands down by your side. The hand held shower head was lying on the ground so I picked it up and put it on its hook. When I turned the water on, the nozzle shot off spraying water all over me and the bathroom. That’s why it was dangling on the floor. I managed to clean my very smelly body but once done showering, had to use a shirt to dry because the only towel I brought, I had taken out of my suitcase. I managed to get myself into bed and what a glorious moment it was when I finally closed my eyes. :) 

-L