The count down begins

I leave for London in 5 days.

So I have 5 days to make the best of Stockholm: its islands, its events, its people. And the latter especially includes some fantastic people who, despite us having spent years in classrooms together, I never managed to get to know until just recently. This summer has been pretty good for that, I must admit.

In fact in terms of making the best of my last week in Stockholm, the past few days have been pretty good. After a night out, a couple of friends and I found ourselves at Stadshuset admiring the gorgeous night view. It was 3am, we were in fact sober, we climbed over the gates, we looked out over the water... then we got caught by security and were (surprisingly amicably) escorted off the premises. We spent the next few hours sitting by the water, watching the sunrise and listening to music, and I came upon the pleasant discovery that V actually does not classify my Paul Desmond jazz as 'elevator music'.

Stadshuset by night

So, yes, pretty good times so far.

...But GOD London is going to be fantastic too.

Bad Words

I had a sort of bet last night with O concerning my mother's swearing vocabulary, specifically her knowledge of the word 'cunt'. Turns out we were both wrong.

'Mom, do you know what cunt means?'
*long pause*..... 'Fucking?'
'Urm, no not really but yeah ok.'
'Why, did you learn this last night at the pool place?'
'No, I was checking to see if you knew, that's all.'
'I saw the look on your face! You didn't know!'
'What!? I just wanted to know if you knew!!'

That went on for a while. Fine, I did not, admittedly, seem to have a strong basis for my questioning. But I couldn't tell her that the real reason was a bet, because a) She'd be insulted that I doubted her, and b) That would involve exposing that I could not possibly have picked up a new word from foul mouthed pool players, because I simply wasn't around any.

So last night was actually spent at O's place, and I won't go into too many details... but I do give the evening a very, er, positive review. The reason I did not tell my mother is rooted in the cultural differences between us. Being at the house of someone of the opposite gender till early morning does not acquire many Good Daughter points, especially by Filipino standards. I love my dear mother very much, and do not at all enjoy lying to her (especially when it gets complicated due to completely forgetting that the metro closes on a Monday night, thus lengthening my trip home by an hour and resulting in the vague 'There Was a Fight at the Billiard Hall!' saga). But I simply have come to the conclusion that some things are worth not mentioning because our opinions differ too widely.

Note that I did not start a conversation about what the word actually means. 9am laborious laundering with my mother really does not require a discussion of the multiple words used to say vagina.

Options!

Oh man oh man oh man I hope these options work out!

I'm so excited for this term, can it just start already!?

Contrast

It's funny how different day and night can be in terms of what we wear, what we do, and how we behave. (Er, well that last one just might possibly have more to do with intoxication level) This was quite aptly demonstrated just last Sunday.

Sunday afternoon, my mother and I ventured off to Vitabergsparken to watch modern ballet. It was a free show, meaning the place was packed and I had to recover my debating skills to ensure us a couple of seats. Now I don't want to be stereotypical or anything - I do love this country... but Swedish people omg. Examples of snippits of conversation:

'Well, you can sit here and your daughter sits elsewhere. You don't need to talk to each other anyway'
'No, I won't move up, I want to sit right here!' (Exclaimed by one of two women who sat in the middle of two free spaces. I asked if they could move up so as to have space for both my mother and me)
'Humph! Nu blir det lite trångt!' (when I finally convinced them to be reasonable)

Just before the ballet began

Anyway. They were alright in the end. Like the time that a nervous flyer kept screaming 'YOU WILL KILL US!' in response to my phone call just prior to take off, the first impressions subsided and my neighbours warmed up to me eventually.

The ballet was gorgeous, and I was pleased to finally be taking advantage of one of Stockholm's many free summer performances. I failed to take photos of the dance however because of the regulations not permitting me to (and, primarily, because the two women enforced this rule via snarling at me when I had my camera out). Even with the seat drama, it was a very pleasant, cultured afternoon.

Then later that night there was R's house. Oh god. That gin tasted like poison, and after a couple of drinks M and I were already rolling around on the floor. Literal ROFL right there. Much inappropriate behaviour, an extensive amount of regrettable conversation topics, and one 3am phone call too many. All those things however, definitely equated to a very very well spent Sunday night :oP

That would be M rolling on top of me. I don't know.

Forgetfulness

Every now and then, in my enthusiasm to be a little bit sophisticated, I forget that I really despise the taste of wine. Such Enthusiasm-Inspired-Forgetfullness aka selective memory is also seen in: the excitement to go on a long distance bike ride (forgotten: how much I want to die after 40km), or thinking I should wear my fabulous 5 inch heels for a night out (forgotten: they make my feet acquire muscular dystrophy after one hour).

This transpired again last night at a cocktail bar: I ordered an expensive (by my cheap standards) glass of wine, and ended up drinking the complimentary glass of water. Good job! Nevertheless, I had a wonderful night out with a good friend who happens to be one of the few people in the world that can understand jokes and references to both Swedish and Filipino culture. Who else can I talk to about fjortisar (shudder) and eating Balut?*

Then at 4 in the morning I got a call from O, whom I hadn't talked to since last year. He amusingly demonstrated a fine example of Alcohol-Inspired-Forgetfulness (forgotten: we're not dating anymore).

Definitely an entertaining night!

*Fjortisar: young swedish teenage girls trying to be cool, Balut: fertilised duck egg. In case you wanted to know :oD

Interpret this

Dreamt that I had uncontrollable snot pouring out my nose while talking to T.

I wonder what Freud would say about that.

Undercova Nolla!

So C and I snuck into a KTH party tonight.

It was almost as ridiculous as the SOAS saga, but with less fence climbing and tight ripping.

First let me write about KTH. KTH is a university here in Stockholm (read: Royal Technical University), a real nerd fest apparently, but from what I've experienced, definitely full of very cool people. It is currently their freshers week, and all freshers (called 'nollor' aka losers) have to wear hideous neon vests, à la that beautiful example I've posted here. So upon arrival at campus, A snuck out and provided us with some. In addition to false identities which we were instructed to assume. 'YOU DON'T KNOW ME!!' she commanded before letting us in and subsequently deserting us. (No spite here; it was a necessary part of the plan!)

Because I've now become scared of copyright issues, let me say: Buy this beautiful vest here!!

Oh, and the other thing: English was strictly forbidden, at least when within eavesdropping distance of other students, for that would instantly blow our cover. Shit. I downed a tequila shot as soon as we got inside.

The best place was the dance floor, which was where we resided throughout most of the night. Firstly, I adore clubbing, and was thus loving it from the beginning. Secondly, it's safe: it's easy to avoid confrontation there, as I demonstrated with the successful use of 'VA? VA? *hand motion indicating music is too loud*'. You see, I'm quite good at Swedish, but when it comes to chattering away like a confident native speaker or comprehending the nebulous slurs of a drunken swede... forget it. 'VA? VA?' it is. Then there's the smiling and nodding, which I attempted at one point when A was being chatted up by various men and kept referring to previously uncovered information about 'Anna', my identity for the night. 'She's from group 8', she exclaimed happily, motioning towards me. Group 8? Group? Wtf we are categorized too? Smile and nod, smile and nod.

Then there was the dance. Oh the dance! Little did I know that KTH would embrace a eurotrash song so. As soon as it started, the dancer density in the room rose noticeably, (Oh, this is a popular song I guess) and suddenly everyone slumped down towards the floor (wait... what... what the fuck?). C and I followed suit, exchanging incredulous glances, and as the choreography progressed we realised that the only thing we could do was copy them. So we did. I only bashed into a few people with my delayed dancing, but I got it in the end! Well I had to - they played that fucking song 6 times by the end of the night. It was absurd, hilarious, clean fun.

And I laughed about it on the bus all the way home.

:oD

P.S. Thanks to C and A for an awesome night! I hope to party with A again, she's amazing fun and all the boys love her :oD And C, I'll see you in London my love!

Can I just say...

... that I am absofuckinglutely definitely going back to the SATS gym I went to today. If only for their gorgeous mosaic showers and their men. Oh the men.

I got all giggly at the reception when getting a ticket for my spinning class, and later forgot what exercise I was doing during the Core class and almost fell over. All because I kept catching sight of beautiful, beautiful male specimins.

YUP I am going back!

A further notable experience of the day was when a cashier lady expressed admiration towards my earrings. This incited a little Utilitarian revelation: I've decided to compliment more. This does not equate to false flattery of course; if I genuinely admire someone's clothes/jewelry/ass/whatever, there is little harming in letting them know! (...Providing it doesn't make me look creepy). So here I go, spreading the love.

And maybe I can make someone feel as happy as this:

:oD

Swedish butlers...

A Swedish friend who also happens to go to UCL showed me an article today regarding what the Social Democrats in Stockholm have recently suggested:

It's entitled ”När ska vi stockholmare få tid att älska och skratta?”, and it's main line is: Socialdemokraterna vill bygga in kollektiva vardagstjänster i SL:s lokaler... Stockholmarnas värdefulla tid ska stå i fokus.

This basically concerns their proposition to introduce services through the local transport system to allow regular Stockholmers to make the most of their time. Among some potentially feasible suggestions (?), these were my two favourites:

• Drop your laundry off at the metro in the morning and pick it up later on the way home.
• 'Butler-like services' can assist you with mundane necessities such as parking your car.

A bit of Fresh Prince nostalgia for you there! I guess I wouldn't mind this guy as my butler...

My first reaction was a little guffaw and a sense of disbelief: we stockholmers love being independant, why would anyone agree to this? Butlers on the metro?  How is this in any way realistic? Is this how Socialdemokraterna want to win these elections?! How lazy are these people anyway? WTF? But it is a changing world, our unemployment rate of roughly 9% certainly does need a makeover, and really who knows what will happen.

I do know however that I'll definitely be following these elections much closer than last time around. I can finally vote in Sweden afterall!

There's a funny short video too for anyone who understands Swedish and wants to giggle about this.

That is all.

Oh and P.S. Yes I know this has little or nothing to do with Giddy in London City, but a) This is simply in the programme seeing as I have yet to leave Stockholm, and b) I'm allowed to ramble, so there.

Bucklebury awaits!

Soooo I just finished signing and sending off a contract for our new flat!! I am SO excited it's unbelievable! Our own bachelorette pad in London Town!!

I don't know that much about the flat (although am VERY well acquainted with the price, unfortunately), but I love it already. Sort of like the relationship between Ada Monroe and Inman in Cold Mountain. (What was his first name anyway?)

But hopefully my version of the story doesn't involve my apartment fleeing and getting shot.

Anyway.

It's located really close to UCL, allowing those wonderful late night library sessions to continue. Hopefully FitFinder still exists so I can entertain myself with that to prevent essay induced psychosis.

Anyway!

This is the view from the apartment:

Gorgeous! And yes that's a balcony with a hammock. The hammock we can't keep, but the balcony's not going anywhere at least! I really don't know why, but I have some sort of agreement with Ilona to not use the elevator unless carrying something heavy. This will cause me to either die of exhaustion or die of boredom, because walking up 18 flights of stairs is really not entertaining. It will also probably result in me lugging around heavy books when I don't need to, just as an excuse. Or even 'uuum do you mind if I borrow the... iron... for the day?'

But I count my blessings! I shall be living with four wonderful ladies, I got the room I hoped for, and Amy and I get to buy a rice cooker. Rice cooker!

Now I'll go to bed and jizz over the new apartment.

KIDDING. I'll jizz here.

KIDDING. I'm actually going to stay online for way too long, and then realise that I'm being stupid and should go to bed. That is the ugly truth.

And now goodnight.

Just a couple more...

I've got a busy day planned... A bit of touristing (i.e. a guide of the Riksdag, which was my mother's idea), shoe shopping (to prevent future Salsa fails, i.e. the time my shoes got stuck to the floor), and camera repairing (which of course is necessary seeing as my technology curse applies to anything with batteries).

But continuing my reminiscing from yesterday, I found some photos on my phone (which incidentally I almost broke last night. GAH), and thought I'd put them up for show and tell in addition to a couple other favourites.

Halloween again, when we were erm 'resting' on my bed... This photo is just priceless. It might even mark the beginning of my harassment of Ebony :oP

I. love. my. life.

And I love studying with this woman. Who goes completely bonkers after 2am.

Hah! A beautiful night. Clubbing till late night, then our little library session because we didn't want to go home yet (did i mention we're dorks), then trudging over to Sainsbury's for some freshly baked bread aka facial warming :oD

Oh Abercrombie, I don't know if I can go back there again after that Valentines Day...

And now it's shower time. Love!

First post, first year

Hej!


So this is the cherry popping entry. And seeing that I am not currently in London, although begging time to move a bit faster so I can return to that bliss, I have chosen to reminisce and live through the best moments from last year.

My first (sweaty) night in London, spent clubbing with a few strangers. Ah memories :oD

Enrollment day. Oh the excitement!

Fresher's week. The night of the stolen bread. Amazing.

Halloween 2009. There are some fantabulous photos from this night, but I'll stick with this one for now!

Touring London was definitely something on the itinerary... Although it took a while getting around to it

Oh how i love the occasional expensive tourist trap.

And oh the clubbing nights! This one at neon being the absolute bomb.

I am only slightly ashamed of having done this. We were however somewhat redeemed by dancing Thriller in addition to Jingle Bell Rock. And the fact that we came in second place. So suck on that.

After 8 years of devout admiration of this man and his music, I finally got to watch him live. Twice. Oh. My. God. <3

There was of course the epicness of Valentines Day, with our little squad going out and harrassing half of London and all of A&F with our dares and 'Will you be my Valentine?' petitions. Elas ensued. Link to our dares here!

Roller Diso!!! What else can I say... except that the men there were FINE!

So, not strictly London, but a trip with about 30 other Londoners. Messy, messy times! (Although with a suitable amount of Cultural Experience via museums etc to tell the rents about)

That ridiculous night we climbed over two fences to get into the packed closing night for the SOAS bar. This is the post break-in photo, of us feeling absolutely badass.

Our outrageous noodle party for Ms Noodles Birthday. Yes those are noodle masks. So?

Museums too! I'm here to learn afterall...

But being an absolute child is allowed too, a la Ilona's fantastic party in the park (complete with very fragile sacks for the sack race)

And if I didn't include evidence of the nights of exam related stress, zero sleep, and overall near death experiences, then this just wouldn't be accurate.

And there you have it.  Oh sweet memories :o)


There is so, so much more to come next year!