Settling

It’s been a while since I last blogged about the intricate details of my inner workings, which usually means that nothing interesting has been happening. But in this case, that is not the case.  After I left the mighty US (USA!!! USA!!! USA!!!), I spent a week in Iceland visiting all the old haunts (except the one that had turned into a gentlemen’s club) with the Ghosts of Exchanges’ Passed before heading to Sweden to begin my masters degree.

Harpa

But let’s backtrack, to Iceland, the Land Of Fond Memories. If you have been reading my blog for long enough, you might remember one trip to Turkey with one Australian companion. Said companion was also present as one of the three in Iceland on this Mini Reunion. You may also remember, from the time we tripped around Turkey together that Said Companion turned up without his luggage. And had lost and found his passport (after a trip to the embassy). And then left his phone somewhere forgettable, and the phone was then held ransom by a taxi driver. And I mean, for all intents and purposes, he’s a trust worthy person, who manages to get himself into Masters programs on the other side of the world and to get himself there. He was in charge of accommodation and had been talking about it for a solid 2 months before we arrived in Iceland. And the other group members (myself and another Australian) trusted him to do the job. Except, he hadn’t. And Iceland isn’t the best place for trying to find beds at short notice over the weekend of The Reykjavik Marathon and Reykjavik Culture Night. It was musical beds every night of the week. And I am never trusting him to organize my life again. But, as dire chance and fateful cock-up would have it, he lost his bag with his laptop in it on the last day. As they say, karma’s a bitch.

Oh, hey Reykjavik!

The pond

Now, it was purely co-incidence that we were there for Reykjavik Culture Day (and Night), but a happier co-incidence has never occurred. The give out free waffles. They have music all through the. They had people dressed up as Vikings, including babies with swords (friendlier Vikings, you will never meet). AND they had the perfect cure to any hangover; dancing in the streets. Complete with a disco ball, DJ and grass dance floor so you could really get your bohemian dancing shoes on (bare feet).

Free waffles

Baby Vikings ft. sword

People for Africa

Dancing in the streets

And then I arrived in Sweden. And now I am in Sweden. Settling into life here. Slowly. After a very serious conversation with myself asking the hard questions, for example; what the fuck did you do?

But I took solace in the fact that the sun was shining

Actually, that’s the only real question that I asked myself, but it was a hard one. It took some getting used to; the fact that the only shadow that I had was my own once more. But I am settling into life here in Sweden well. And the friend making process hasn’t been hindered by the fact that my most fluent sentence of Swedish translates to, ‘what’s wrong with you?’ Such is the generous nature of the Swedes. But seriously, the town is gorgeous. The people are great. And the thought of spending two years here is infinitely less intimidating than it was on Day Dot. 

Välkommen till Sveriges!