February 18, 2005 on Travel
Today it is snowing here, again, and things are carrying on, as usual, and the tire on my bike is flat as a pancake and the closest repair shop is like 4 kilometers away. So now I have to ride the bus, which is SEK 12, but luckily, i got a rebattkarten, so now it’s only SEK 9.50 (~1.25) per bus ride. That means it is like $2.50 every time I want to get up to the town/back. I could walk but the slush & ice might cause me injury by fall and then it would cost thousands in health care costs, so what’s the point. Oh! I forgot, I’m in Sweden where it doesn’t matter how sick you are, the state will keep you healthy & happy–and since I’m a student here I am insured until June 3. Lucky me, I’ll walk on, despite the risk of bodily injury and permanent disfiguration.
Oh, the reason for the flat tire. Long story short: Russian rides on back of bike, breaks bike. Long story long: Wednesday night, Party at Västgöta nation caused 7 internationals (2 french, 2 russians from latvia, 2 romanian, 1 kat) to travel about 6 km to party. Yura, 1 brave Russian/Latvian soul, had no air in his tire and needed travel to a bike shop. Arrived at one bike shop with bike in tow, air pump did not fit bike. I, being the strong American ox that I am, offered the poor boy a ride on my steel steed. I pulled him all the way to the nation, in the icy snow, with only one brief 2 minute interlude of Yura driving and crashing painfully before I took the reigns once again. On the way, the fender fell off Roxanne’s bike, the tire fell off Raluca’s bike, and we generally took 1.5 hrs to travel the distance we should’ve covered in 15 minutes. However, the party was great fun and I did get to see some (anonymous) friends find love in the sweaty mix of the dance floor. I think about 75% of the people there were actually making out on the dance floor, which leads me on to the next subject.
Swedes! Sexy, Sweaty Swedes. With no concept of PDA or propriety of sexual actions in public places. I have never seen more people kissing, fondling, and dancing dirty than I have here in the Swedish southland. I guess when they finally crawl out of the holes they live in in the day time, they get some drink in them and really come out of their shells. Quite interesting actually. You may never meet a happy Swede by day, but you will meet 100s every night in the clubs, and they will quickly adopt you, dance with you, and invite you to an afterparty, after which, it is unlikely you will see or hear from them again no matter how many phone numbers were exchanged.