ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED

YES!

I got another achievement, this time for having a guided tour of a crematorium.

I knew I got the achievement as soon as I walked in the door.

That place was pretty creepy. Clean, but creepy. Some jobs are better left to people who enjoy doing jobs like that. That place would take serious balls of steel on my part to work in. Forgetaboutit.

SO ANYWAY.

Last night was my last dj night I think. Just can't be longed with the complete lack of love in that place. Last night I dj'd to about 25 people when the dancefloor was heaving, and 0 when it was less heaving. FAIL.

It has been snowing here,

Well, not today anyway, but it has been really really cold.

The journey to school has changed from a 6 minute sprint on the bicycle to a 15 minute half slipping onto my back half holding onto pavement side railings and fences and small trees style teeter along icy pavements. Now when I get there it isn't just my ears that hurt, it is everything, including my respiratory system, air that is -3˚C hurts your FACE.

It is comical because everyone in my immigints class feels the same, everyone basically has come from somewhere if not a bit warmer, then very much warmer.

To name a few: Arsene is from Burundi, which makes me laugh every time I don't know why. And I only remember his name because it is the same as the Lord's. He speaks french and english.

Hector is from Cuba, and he the local salsa dancing and judo fighting teacher, he is the coolest dude there is. We went to visit him at the Sundsvall Salsa Festival, which was full of swedish south americans with tattoos and swedish accents all rocking out, and Hector up in the midst of action with mad women around him. That guy rules. He only speaks spanish, and a little bit of swedish, so communicating with him is impossible except to say "como estas" and "hasta luego", occasionally.

Then there is Kuannngghuhhg, from Thailand, who as far as I have gathered, has 2 kids with a swedish guy, but only speaks english to him at home, but when I try to speak english to her, she doesn't understand a word of it. Which is slightly strange, but can be highly amusing. The best was when I asked her to bring some Thai food in for me to try for lunch on Monday and she obliged, and me and my new mate Christian, had thai food for lunch. Epic win.

Christian is from Luxembourg. He said one of the truest things to me the other day: "You know what would really be the good shit? If they made a movie with Bobby Peru and Frank Booth in it". I was inspired.

YES!!!!!

Two achievements in one post. This one is for enrolling at the local lending library. The first book I took out was Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy by John Le Carré. It is good.

JOBSWORTHS

a strange place.

Chapter 9.

So I was sitting in the local indian restaurang on friday night, and after having ordered our food, the waitress offered to take some drink orders.

"What beers do you have?"

"Well, we have, cobra and -"

"yeah, perfect, I will take a cobra."

"Ok, can I just see some ID?"

"WUT?"

-

The next day, Martina and I were at SSSSYSTEM BBBOLAGET buying beers and ciders because we were having a few people over that evening, Saturday. So we had to get down there sharpish because it closes at 3 pm, oh you have something else to do that day? No you don't because Systembolaget is about to close. So Martina is emptying the basket onto the conveyor belt, and I am rummaging in my bag. After matey behind the till has finished scanning everything, he looks up and says a bunch of stuff in swedish to Martina, she turns to me and says, "Yeah, he wants to see your ID too". And I am like "oh my god what the..." Whatever.

Wow! I just got an achievement!

I went to school for three weeks without missing a single day!

My god it is cold...

Phew!

I just got back from a walk to the industrial area of the town.

If you haven't seen the film Let the Right One In, I suggest you do. If you have then, you know that bit at the beginning when the father is draining that dog walkers blood and he has him hanging upside down from a tree in a little wooded area with paths going through it? Yeah, well thats exactly the kind of areas I have just been walking through. Scary.

I decided to go for a walk because at about 4 oclock today, I blinked and it was suddenly dark outside. The clocks went back, and now it gets dark quite early and quite quickly. I realised that after having got back from SFI, I had spent all day on the internet reading people arguing on forums and watching videos on Jack's blog. ( http://video-thunder.blogspot.com/ go there AFTER you have finished reading mine...)

So off I ventured with my camera in my backpack and my hiking boots on.

The roads I walked were so quiet, a few cars every five minutes, no street lights, right next to train tracks with no fences leading to freight train yards and oil refineries.

Sundsvall's bay looks spectacular at night, and views of the paper factory/cloud generator, can be stunning.

I had to walk down the worst little road to serialkillersville by the edge of the water to get this one but it was worth it.

Sneaking around at night finding these places and having adventures is one of my favourite pastimes.

Its fun too, as long as you remember the 5 S's http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLnkA-cH1Nw These work surprisingly well too in urban situations. However safety conscious some people are, walking their dogs while wearing hi-vis vests, on the pavement, I don't think anything is safer than moving around the neighbourhood without anyone realising you are there. And, I am aware that I don't live in Basra, but staying safe from the dangers of crackheads, drunks, policemen, hoodies, knife-crimers etc is, more than anything, about staying out of their sight.

Invisible photographer Jackson finds cement truck.

I am not too impressed with the image hosting services of this blog host, if anyone has any tips they would be great, and I know there is a thing called google, but bleh.

I will be incorporating flickr into this endeavour soon enough anyway.

-

IN other news I passed my last swedish test and will be progressing to the highest stream at immigrant school. So expect tales of flunking and demotion soon.

The other day my teacher was laughing about how the Somalian guys in my class are going to be slipping all over the shop when the weather gets more serious, but I wasn't laughing, my area is mad hilly, and I am going to be the one on my bum crying. And also, the best one was when we were discussing seasons, and the somalian and nigerian dudes were saying they had 6 seasons or something hahaha six seasons, fugghetaboutit.

Oh yeah, and when I made the whole class laugh when I told them "jag har tolv barn", which translates as "I have twelve children" Hahahaha, and when questioned further by the teacher I revealed that one of them was 94 years old hahahahaha, my stars did we laugh, "what kind of child is that?! Hahaha" the teacher kept saying over and over.

Being back at school is funny.

Tea time, speak soon.

OK I keep

getting told off for not updating my blog, so here we go.

Been a while since I last posted.

The weather has taken a turn for the colder, this morning on my way to SFI, it was so cold that the asphalt around the bicycle parking area was slippery, not with icy patches, but just super cold asphalty iceyness. I nearly slipped twice. My bicycle was covered in frost and the brakes did even less than usual. I threw caution to the icy wind and headed off down the hill warming my brakes as I went and managed to get everything up to temperature except my ears, which in the end gave me a bit of a headache, hat tomorrow methinks.

SFI stands for Swedish For Immigrants. I started attending last monday. I passed my first test on friday with just 70% because I spelled a bunch of numbers wrong, mainly missing double Ts and missing Os off the end of the thirties forties fifties sixties etc, but who cares because I don't remember the last time I wrote a number with letters. Except for just then ^^^.

The lessons start at 08:15 which means I am out of bed, breakfasted and on my bike at 08:09. The clock in the classroom is 6 minutes slow which gives me a headstart too.

Lessons are over by 10:45 which is nice because ten minutes later after a gruelling uphill ride, I am back in the kitchen for coffee and toast by 11:00.

I have a new friend who I sit next to, he is a Luxemburger, called Christian, very nice chap, also moved with his girlfriend to this strange land. On the first day of lessons we had an interpreter called 'Tom, from Jersey, in the states' - 'what brings you guys to Sundsvall? Love? It's the only reason' he said as he shook our hands, he had a mullet.

He only comes in to interpret on special occasions now, the lessons are given entirely in Swedish. This can be a little irritating and frustrating at times and requires your COMPLETE ATTENTION.

-

Did my first dj set at the local student clubhouse.

It went ok, I suppose. My brand of rowdy rap music djing doesn't go down that well.

I got lots of requests for HOUSE MUSIC, and even this one indian dude asked me to play something off his phone hahahahahaahahahaha. This was even more amusing considering the fact that the only people on the dance floor anyway were him and his 10 mates doing rowdy bangla indian bollywood hand twirly dancing, which was pretty hilarious. Especially considering I don't think they were even drinking, but they were dancing so energetically and seemed to be having more fun than I have seen anyone have in a nightclub in years. I should have just plugged his phone in anyway.

The dance floor got more crowded towards the end, and I played a few floor fillers and everyone was happy, quite a satisfying feeling really, and my co-dj Axel played some trance shit which got everyone going pretty potty by the end, especially when he was mixing in the lighting too, it got pretty out of hand. Whoever knew that a Russian trance remix of the Super Mario theme tune could be so popular. Only in Sweden.

-

Hmm,

Went to a pretty darling little second hand shop in town the other day. Was wandering round looking at things blah blah, when all of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I spied a woman who looked like she worked there, carrying a single clarks wallabee. I looked towards where she had come from, and saw the other one on a shelf. I picked it up and examined it, it was pretty correct, black leather (not coffee), hardly worn. I threw it on the ground and tried it on, a perfect fit!

Damn, i said to myself, thats pretty correct.

I looked around for the woman. No sign.

So I went to the lady at the desk and showed her the shoe. I asked her where her mate was, the one with the shoe. She said that nobody like that worked at the store. I was like, OH GAHD.

The other JERBRONY woman was buying clothes for her JORBROENEY son, and wanted the other shoe to complete the pair, all like "I saw em first". I let them have it, and I didn't get angry and moan all the way home about how the dumb kid didn't even spot them himself, and that he didn't know how to appreciate shit, and that he probably didn't even like them or want them but was just being a little bitch. And I didn't moan for hours or threaten to write a blog entry about how unfair life can be.

Nevermind, wallabees are nice but not worth crying over, even if they were only going to cost £8.

I am going to bed now. More nonsense tomorrow.

Peas.

SO, THIS WEEKEND.

We went on a quick trip to Orebro to see Martina's parents and pick up some stuff, and to eat some more of Anette's home cooking. It was pretty correct as usual, not to mention the five million cinnamon buns which are now in the freezer, waiting for me to make some coffee.

Went to a disco party joint on saturday night which was mildly amusing, shacking out to sean paul in a tiny room with forty other people with their armpits in your face is pretty amazing after a lot of whiskey. Smoking rooms in nightclubs are the best idea ever. Except you can't take you beer in with you, a rule which I ignored repeatedly, much to the annoyance of the extremely polite swedish bouncers.

"Excuse me sir, you cannot have your beer in here, I have told you before"

-"Sorry? In English?"

-"I am speak English?!"

-"IN ENGLISH YOUR BEER NOT ALLOWED OK?"

-"In English?... Oh my beer, ok."

By which time I had finished my cigarette anyway. Job done.

Met the local baller type lads who were pretty LOL.

Yeah, when I am going to go to London, I am going to go to Tiger Tiger, you know the club Tiger Tiger? Yeah, thats where I am going to go to when I go to London. I support Aston Villa.

Hahah ok sure.

Martina's fabulous step-dad, Mats, took us to see an ICE HOCKEY match! It was pretty great.

Northern Sweden enjoy ice hockey. I can understand why it is so popular. It is fast, exciting, has big crunching tackles and fights, it is pretty spectacular. And once you understand the offside rule it makes a lot more sense, and you can start to see tactics at work instead of a bunch of padded up guys chasing a puck.

However, because I am English, and I watch Premiership football, my sporting intake, is quite exciting enough. And the Hockey vs Football debate rages on. I have come to the decision that it is like comparing chess with street fighter 2 turbo, on the super nintendo.

One is slow and meditated, yet deadly and can be highly stimulating and fascinating. The other is high tempo and exciting yet shortly lived, but not without its share of requirement of skill and lethal punishment for sloppiness or innacuracy.

It was fun to watch, but not as engrossing as football. Especially when you are used to watching Arsenal, which is something I miss. The best I get is downloading MOTD on a sunday night and hearing Martina impersonating Alan Hansen "SINSAAAYSHONAL". Hahaha.

(6-2!!!!! And yes it was a penalty hahah sod off Allardyce)

That was a missed penalty.

The away fans, who coincidentally were supporting the team from Sundsvall which is where I am sitting writing this, and where I am calling home at the moment, resembled soccer casuals from the mid nineties, and had a weird neo-nazi vibe about them, some of them were so sloshed that they had to be taken away by paramedics in high-vis jackets before the first interval.

They set off flares and stuff, it was cool.

Rather glad I couldn't understand their shouting. They chanted so loudly throughout and really were giving it, so I made sure to give them a big two hands in the air and a nice big "WA-HEY!" when their team conceded, which was replied with a lot of middle fingers being displayed, and me feeling slightly worried about Mats or Martina getting hit by a retaliatory bottle of piss. Thank god they were a bunch of girls.

All in all a good afternoon.

Sunday's hangover was rubbish.

Swedish Trains are unbelievably good.

If I could sum it up in 1 photo this would be it.

CLICK TO ENLARGE.

What this is, is a cup of coffee from a Swedish buffet car.

Observe the fairtrade sugar.

But my favourite thing is the milk. No tiny plastic pot of UHT fail which unless you are paying 100% attention, and the train is stationary, WILL piss all over your crotch. THANKSMATE.

No, here you get an ice cold, fresh, beautifully designed tetra pak sealed, quantity of milk, with a little foil strip which you peel off, with a perfectly sized hole, so that the air pressure keeps the milk inside it until you squeeze it(!!!). You couldn't spill this on your crotch if you really tried.

I LOVE IT.

HUMANS THINKING ABOUT THINGS.

OK, thats enough for now, The Bill is on.

peasx

PESKY MOOD

JESUS WOMAN I AM TRYING TO WATCH MATCH OF THE DAY.

Anyways,

So yeah today is sunday, last night we went to a party near the river.

It was ok there were a lot of foreigners and a lot of drinking.

People from Denmark sound like they are scousers or mancs. When there is a Danish tv show on, they have Swedish subtitles, although Martina says she can understand them anyway kinda sorta, their voices are distinct and nasal and they sound like they are about to start talking about how great Liam Gallagher is, and that Arsenal are a bunch of French poofs.

There were a couple of Danes there.

Watched Nosferatu (1922 version) this morning as a hangover cure. It worked. That film is serious.

The other day we made Smulpaj! (SMOOLPIE)

It went like this:

FROZEN BLACKCURRANTS

YEAH, ahrm, yeah, it was delicious.

We made some waffles too!

My stupid face

Waffle iron

Waffle

At the top of the road outside our gaff there is a lake, a ver nice big lake, with a very picturesque supermarket by it.

It has a ski slope on one side, which has no snow on it. Pretty pointless I know, you would have thought when they decided where to build the ski slope, they would choose somewhere that had some snow to ski on.

Am I missing something? No its just a bit of baked bean juice on my jumper... Never mind.

LUNCH TIME

This is the food of kings.

Get yourself some Wasa Krispbreads.

Add butter, cheese, and plenty of gherkin slices.

Then eat.

This is epic win.

SYSTEM BOLAGET

OFF LICENSES.

One of the greatest inventions ever.

There aren't any in Sweden. None.

There is however one place, which will cater for all your boozy needs.

A place, so fantastic and full of every different kind of booze you could imagine.

It caters for every taste, from beer to wine and spirits, believe it or not.

Just wandering into a SYSTEM BOLAGET (to be pronounced out loud in a monotone robot voice), can bring such fevered excitement, like that of a child walking into a candy supermarket. Shelves upon shelves of every different type of beer, champagne, and rum and everything else in between. You feel drunk just walking into one of these shops. The choices are endless. And it is all relatively cheap too.

So you are thinking 'Great!' and 'sounds like my kind of store!'.

But it has its drawbacks...

Its opening hours are so inconvenient. It is almost as though it is only open for about 5 minutes a day. Oh you just blinked? Yeah, SYSTEM BOLAGET is closed now.

Oh you just turned your head for a second? Yeah, SYSTEM BOLAGET is closed. Oh, its a Sunday? Yeah, SYSTEM BOLAGET is closed. What? It is half eleven and we are going to a house party? Shall we get some beers to take with us? Oh yeah, SYSTEM BOLAGET is closed.

The supermarkets sell beer, but only 3.5% lagers, crappy Swedish import versions of staropramen and carlsberg and a few ciders, all of which are brewed specially to 3.5%.The result of which is a beer which doesn't even taste like beer really, just kinda tastes like fizzy water. And good luck trying to get drunk off that stuff.

SYSTEM BOLAGET is a government scheme to keep the alcohol consumption of your average swede as low as possible, by making it so inconvenient to get your hands on that most people just fall into despair. Also, the ID policy is so strict that I have seen grown men with beards and grey hair, pushing prams, trying to buy a nice bottle of red to take to dinner for his wife's forty fifth birthday, get denied service because he didn't have his passport or drivers license.

How is a country supposed to raise a generation of hardened drinkers when there are no moody offies in town who turn a blind eye to selling a bunch of sixteen year-olds some smirnoff ices?

And another thing! If you think I am going to throw a party at our gaff after being at a pub or somewhere? And the guests and whoever else thinks they are going to share my 3 beers that I have in the fridge, they can forget it. So now I have to plan to have a party, and buy booze before hand? If so I will be bloody well charging a concession for entry, or run a bar, oh you are having another beer? Yeah 20Kr please because SYSTEM BOLAGET is closed.

And another thing! It wouldn't be so bad I suppose, if these SYSTEM BOLAGET joints were all over the place like normal off licenses, but they aren't! There is ONE SYSTEM BOLAGET in Sundsvall, the town where I live. ONE. And it takes ten minutes to ride a bike there, and 20 minutes to ride it back (because it is all uphill, plus the weight of booze). All that my new mate Henry, who runs the shop over the road, sells, is chocolate bars and cigarettes. No beer. None. So if you want to come over to mine and watch football, you have to have bought beer 3 hours earlier and put them in my fridge.

Anyways.

Here is a picture of the beast.

Right now, I am sitting in our flat in Sundsvall drinking a beer and occasionally glancing over at Martina who is in the corner to my right doing some yoga.

We have our own different ways of relaxing after a long day getting annoyed with trying to fix bicycles.

Anways.

Our time in Orebro came to an end, we got on a a train for four hours to a place called Sundsvall.

We picked up the keys for the flat, and dragged our cases up the long hill which is oscarsgatan.

View Larger Map

When we first got to the flat it was empty, but very clean.

This is student living done by people who eat krispbread and cucumber for breakfast.

You could eat off the floor.

No dodgy carpets, no manky wallpaper, no stained mattresses, no holes in the walls filled with empty baked bean cans. No, this place is straight plywood all over your face.

After two nights of sleeping on inflatable camping beds, Martina's parents turned up with all her gear from her old gaff, and a new bed, and a new tv. Which was quite exciting. Also, Martina's mumsie Annette had brought some food with her... YES! She is an amazing cook, and I will have to publish her recipe for spinach and sundried tomato pie which she gave me, because it is unreal.

So we ate the vegetarian moussaka and arranged the furniture. Mats put the television on the wall and we all rejoiced.

Enjoy the before and after pictures. Click on them to enlarge apparently.

Ok, they aren't that great, but you will see more soon.

The next day we went shopping.

ON the bikes!

The supermarket was full of your usual crap, but some certain swedish oddities caught my eye.

Seeing as my favourite thing to eat is gherkins dipped in mayonnaise, I couldn't resist this:

And this must be pretty correct too right? :

And the Noggers are back in full force, mint flavour this time, yay!

AND! I got a proper serious horn for the bicycle:

It is best used 2 foot from a small child's face.