Through Sweden, Scotland and the Czech Republic

Written Sunday, January 23, 2005

From December 29 through January 17, I had yet another lovely voyage through Europe. Although January is not an ideal time for a vacation, I still managed to get through two and a half weeks away from the office with a smile on my face, stories to tell and, of course, a few choice pieces of clothing from H&M. A trip to Europe is never complete without my pilgrmmage to H&M....

The following paragraphs detail my experiences [misadventures] in Sweden, Scotland and the Czech Republic, highlighting the key lessons learned so all don't make the silly mistakes I did (darn Americans!). For all of you burning to know, if you make it to the end of the letter (and trust me, it's a long one as always) you will get the official update on Anders and I (as an 'us,' that is) as well as my rather daring, surprising and proudly irresponsible plans for the upcoming future. Enjoy!

I arrived in Stockholm on New Year's Eve, and because the entertainment industry is plagued with unwarranted inflation, Anders and I decided to boycott and spend the night in. We watched movies, made dinner and drank a bottle of well-travelled champagne. The following day, we drove around town and took a long walk through the city before settling on a place for dinner. As the first real night out, I had to watch all the passers-by to get the scoop on current European fashion. Warm coats. Lots of them. Downcoats with the fake-fur hoods, to be precise, and I realized that weather like January in Stockholm does not lend itself to a wide variety of fashion creativity.

The following morning, I awoke early (jet-lag) and decided to go to the grocery store a few blocks away from Anders's apartment. I took my time, found the few things I wanted and placed them in my basket. As I approached the check-out stand, I placed my basket on the conveyor belt for the girl to ring in my items. Whether or not you realize what is about to happen will indicate where you are from. If you are American, you won't think anything of placing the basket on the belt, because the stack of baskets are collected by the cashier. Not so in Sweden. No,when I explained the following situation, they gasped in shock that I did not realize the baskets are collected BEFORE the belt, and placing the basket on it is, quite frankly, a no-no.

Well, this I realized as the cashier barked at me in Swedish, picked up my basket in irritation and flipped it over with such angst that items actually bounced off the conveyer belt onto the floor. She glares at me as she points to the stack of baskets positioned before the conveyor belt. As a result of her rudeness, I flare my nostrils, raise an eyebrow and jut out my jaw --but I say nothing. When she tersely orders me to enter my pin number in the thing and again points to it out of appalling irritation, I snap my debit card out of her hand, finish the transaction and mutter explatives under my breath as I bag my groceries. Again, I say nothing. I wasn't in the mood to get any comments about 'stupid Americans' after I gave her a piece of my mind. I was so bewildered after I left and my mind was going a million miles an hour thinking of ways I should have shot back at her that I got lost going back to the apartment.....pay attention, Hill.

The rude chick at the grocery store was clearly out of line despite my cultural faux pas. However, whenever I retold this story for Swedes, they all realized the error I made instantly. Point being, when purchasing groceries, empty the basket and look for the stack of empty baskets placed befre the conveyer belt.

The next few days in Stockholm, Anders went to work every day, so Ienjoyed myself taking in the sights. I went to the Modern Art Museum, the Scandinavian Architecure Museun and wandered through the old town--Gamla Stan, my favorite part of Stockholm--window shopping. Anders and I also went to the Vasa Museum. In the 1600s the Swedish government built a ship to go fight in battles. It was to be the grandest, most beautiful ship of its time. While it was beautiful, enormous and uniquely ornate, it wasn't engineered with such care. On its maiden voyage through the bay, with hundreds of people watching, it sank. Yes indeed, the darn thing sailed for maybe 15 minutes. Quite a tragedy, really. However, a few decades ago they raised it from the bottom of the sea and built a museum to go see it. It's quite amazing.

One of the nights we took the subway out to Manne and Ann's place fordinner. We had a great time eating, chatting and drinking wine. Lots and lots of wine. They also had me try some kind of soft drink that is only available around Christmas time. I believe they called it, "ChristmasCola." It tasted like cherry coke, but in a good way of course. We took a taxi on the way home and the radio was playing, "sugar-pie, honey-bunch. Youknow that I love you! I can't help myself.." "I love this song!" I exclaimed, and the taxi driver turned it up. So there we were, in the back of a taxi in Sweden rocking out to the oldies. We weren't drunk, of course :-)

The following night we were going with Manne and Ann on a 22-hour cruise to Aland (pronounced oh-lahnd), Finland. Essentially, a booz cruise. We packed up our stuff, picked up Manne and Ann and headed to the dock. As you get on the boat, they snap souvenir photos of you. As we walked down the gangway, this drunk guy was saying something to Anders. Of course, I had no idea what was going on. He kept talking to him and Anders had an awkward, "you're weird, leave me alone" tone in his voice. Manne and Ann kept turning around, and I kept hissing at Anders,"what's going on? What's going on?!" "He wants to take a picture with me." Sure enough, we approached the archway, they snapped a picture and random drunk-dude's head is straining to be in it. Quite funny, so I bought it! The cruise was a great time. We had a snack, bought our duty-free beverages and hung out in our cabin drinking and chatting. We played a rather interesting game of "truth." When it was my turn to ask Manne, I asked, "what has Anders done that he doesn't want me to know about?" He and Ann started laughing---apparently there was a rather humorous event at a midsommerparty that I'm too embarrassed to share. It is funny, I assure you. The rest of the night we danced away at "Club Seven." They played a mix of stuff, but mostly music I recognized. I remember Anders and I rocking out and doing a rather un-skilled attempt at a salsa dance to Gloria Estefan's "Come, shake-your-body, baby, do-that-Conga!!!" Hopefully that clues you in to how crazy a night it was. Manne and Ann headed in early, so when we were done dancing the night away we went on the search for food. Back in the room we had a bag of tasty potato chips, which we devoured in the bathroom because they were asleep. I sat in the shower and he sat on the toilet and we inhaled 70% of the bag's contents.

The following night we hopped on our Ryanair flight to Glasgow. It was pouring rain when we arrived and sadly, remained that way until I left a few days later. I had to do most of the communicating with the Scots; their accent is SO odd that I could hardly understand them. The Scots tend to mesh all the syllables into one strange, unintelligible sound. Honestly, I understand Swedish more than I understand Scottish English. I've never experienced anything like that. The following morning we caught a train up to Montrose, a tiny town about three hours away where Anders supposedly had ancestors. Yes, this voyage to Scotland was for Anders to get in touch with his roots. Do read on....:-) On the train we bought Anders a sandwich--don't ever buy train food. The sandwich had a big mold growth on it, it was so foul. Little did I know, the inedible food was foreshadowing events to come. We arrived in Montrose. As I waited to get off the train, I was optimistic. The second I stepped off the train I wanted to get back on: The weather was on full attack! The wind was blowing cupfuls and ice chunks HORIZONTALLY. It was awful!! After we bundled up we caught a taxi to our little bed and breakfast. It was mediocre, but I'm not terribly picky about accomodations unless they have foul food and cold showers (which they did).

We went back into the nasty weather to walk around the town. It was safe to say that I was slightly cranky at this point. The weather was literally painful and the town was a complete dump. Seriously, it was a shithole, there was nothing there. But I was there to humor Anders, so that's what I did. We found a little history museum where he searched for stuff about his great-great-whomever (who, by the way, was supposedly the Mayor in the 1600s). Then we went in search of dinner, where we settled at the one-and-only 'restaurant.' I use punctuation there because restaurant implies the serving of food. What we were given was not food. I had the foulest fish and chips I'd ever ingested, all to the lovely sound of crackling deep-fryer. I used to work in a cafe and had to use a deep-fryer. I would complain that after a few hours, it feels like the grease has seeped into your pores. Well, at that place, in only took about 10 minutes and we left after we'd eaten all our stomachs could handle. After finding a grocery store, we went back to our room to watch documentaries and eat cookies.

The following day we hopped on a train back to Glasgow and spent the day wandering in the city. The weather wasn't super, but we enjoyed ourselves. The next morning I got up at the crack of dawn (actually, it was earlier than that) to catch my flight to Prague!!! I hung out with these two Scottish ladies who were taking a brief trip to Prague. They said,"Montrose? Why on earth did you go to that place?"

Prague was amazing. When I got off the plane, I figured out how to take the bus into town, took the subway to the stop for my hostel and began the adventure. I'd randomly picked a hostel out of a book in hopes that they had room for me. After all it was a Monday night in January. After wandering in circles getting lost, I finally found the hostel and checked in. I was sharing a room with two girls from Vancouver, BC who were travelling through Eastern Europe on a school break. They were really nice. That day, I walked for hours. I walked through the city, across the Charles Bridge and up the slope to the castle.

Prague was so beautiful and the weather was so fabulous (I only needed a sweater), that I seriously wanted to skip around like a little kid madly waving my arms back and forth with each hopping step yellling, "yay, yay, yay." Cheesy, but that's seriously how excited I was to be in such a beautiful place. There were tons of tourists (and I hear it's worse in thesummer), so I became yet another member of the Prague-paparazzi. Seriously though, everything was so pretty I had to snap pictures. I worked my way up to the castle, walked though it, checked out the cute Czech guards :-) and went into the cathedral. The castle is built with an enormous courtyard, and in it sits the cathedral. It was all so breathtaking.

That evening, I decided to go on a walking tour through Prague discussing all the ghosts and legends. It sounded a little more interesting than the typical historical toiur. Although the tour was interesting, It wasn't earth-shattering. However, we all went to a pub afterward and I met some really cool people. I met a really nice old couple from England, and a couple young women who were also from England. We had a great time sharing travel stories--they heavily recommend Budapest and Borneo--recommending Prague sites and of course, discussing why I was in Prague by myself. They found my trans-continental relationship rather interesting. "So, is he cute??!" they all wanted to know.

The following day I went to the Jewish Museum which was a very sobering, moving experience. I entered in the synagogue dedicated to the people who died the holocaust. I'm sitting here trying to describe it in a way that will do it the justice and respect it deserves....The inside walls of the synagogue are covered in the names of the victims. I read the brief english explanation of how they were listed, prepared to see names on a wall. But as I stepped in the first room I was choked with awe. Yes, the walls are covered in names. The names stretch from ceiling to floor, edge to edge and written in about font-size sixteen. The last names are written in red, and followed by the first names and years born and died of each member of the family. The first initial is written in red. All of them are in alphabetical order. It was so overwhelming, I remember feeling conflicted about what to do. Glance at them and walk to the next room? Read every single one? I took my time in each room. I looked at year died, noting that many families were seperated and members would be killed at different times. Upstairs they had an exhibit of the artwork created by the children at Terezin, the concentration camp close to Prague. They showed pictures of the children who drew them. It included artwork of all types as well as poems they wrote. It was horrible to read how optimistic they were, and know what really happened to these children.

Outside was the Jewish cemetary. In Prague, the Jewish people all lived in a specific area. From 1200-1700 they were given one small plot of land to bury their dead. They stopped burying them there in 1700s because it was so full that they had to stop. The Jewish cemetary is filled with headstones of all shapes and sizes. It is packed: They say that the bodies are buried 12 deep because they were so low in space.

My third day in Prague I spent at TEFL schools, because I plan to get certified to teach English as a foreign language. I had great visits and met some really cool people. That night, I decided to go on a pub tour because I wanted to try some of the local food and beer but didn't exactly want to go drink alone! The tour was probably the highlight of the trip. We went to three different famous pubs and learned about their history, tried three different types of local beers, tasted local food and got to know everyone. It was great, I met some very friendly people from all over England and Scotland. I was the only American, and it only took two beers until I was asked about Bush. Hmm. The guide of my tour was my age and was teaching English at a school in Prague and really enjoyed it. He was quite cute actually :-)

The following morning I caught my flight to Glasgow. Actually, it wasn't that simple. I took the subway to the end of the line, then the bus to the ariport (there was a sign, so it WAS the right bus). The bus schedule was written completely in Czech, so I looked to see if any ofthe stops resembled anything relating to an airport. Indeed, there was one stop called 'Terminale Zyn.' Ah, that must be the terminal, I thought. I got in the bus and thought to myself, "strange, there aren't any other people with suitcases like when I came into town. I won't really know where to get off if it's not obvious....." The bus stops weren't titled, so you needed to listen to the driver (can YOU understand spoken Czech and compare it with the written word?). We reached a stop and the muffled driver forced out a sound resembling,"Terminale." I didn't move; it sure didn't look like an airport to me. As the bus pulled away, people looked at me with concerned, concentrated wide eyes and gave that ever-so-slight lean forward indicating, "aren'tyou going to do something?!" I saw this from at least three people and I realized--oh my god I missed the stop!!! Deep breath, don't panic, just get off at the next stop. So that is what I did. I was seriously out in the middle of no where; the airport was relatively close by, but I was among the hangars and the maintenance shops.

I found a small hotel and decided to ask for help because the bus stop in the opposing direction was NOT directly across the street. Super, way to go. Now I get to go in there and act like a complete idiot. Tail between my legs, I approached the front desk and explained that I missed the stop for the airport, was there anyway they could help me get there? Thankfully, they loaded me into their shuttle and took me! How nice! However, we didn't turn around to go back to the airport. Nope. Apparently the airport was much farther down. I got off the bus too early!!! What a retard!! It was so weird, it was so clear from the people on the bus that I'd missed the stop--so much so that I didn't bother to even ask for fear of people laughing at me. Yeah, well, now I know to ignore what the bus stops are titled and what kind of looks you get from the bus riders, the airport terminal is indeed OBVIOUS.

From Glasgow I needed to catch a flight up to Stockholm and in order to do so, I needed to switch airports. Well, again I had myself a little bus adventure. The man in the station told me to pay the driver when boarding the bus. As I waited at the stop I asked a nice couple if this was the bus to Preswick airport. Yes, it is. "Would you like me to help you with that young lady?" The nice man carried my heavy bag onto the bus for me. (read this next part carefully)

"Where are you heading,Miss?"

"Preswick Airport please."

"That'll be four pounds." The fact that he asked me where I was going indicated that the bus stops other places in addition to Preswick Airport, but it DOES in fact stop at the Preswick Airport. Also, I was the only one with luggage yet again. Hmm. So no falling asleep! The bus takes about an hour and I enjoyed the countryside of Scotland.

Apparently the stop was getting close because the nice old couple leaned over and said, "the stop is getting close." Cool, great, note-to-self. We pull into the airport, I'm ready to get off and we don't seem to be stopping. Weird. Hmm. I guess the stop is father down. "Wait, Miss, didn't you want to get off, he's leaving!!!" The couple says frantically as we pull away from the airport. "What?!" I say as they, as well as a few people behind (who figure outwhat was going on) yelll, "SSTTOOOOOPPPP!! She needs to get off! Stopsir! STOP!" My facial expression is a mixture of panic, embarrassment and laughter as I heave my luggage out of the rack and pile off the bus.

Oh my god. I seriously did that TWICE IN ONE DAY!!! It's moments like those where I actually miss a travelling companion, because people think you are plain looney if you are by yourself laughing. Evidently, you need to TELL the bus driver to stop. It's not like he yelled, "Anyone for Preswick?" No. It's a bit more challenging than that, but I made it to my flight just fine.

Anders picked me up with roses and the new U2 CD! How sweet, I know. The next couple days in Stockholm were great. I relaxed, shopped, went to drinks with Anders's friends, met up with his parents to tell them all about my adventures and say goodbye. One of the last nights we went to dinner in a fantastic restaurant in Gamla Stan, the old town. Fem Sma Hus was situated below ground level, and the ceiling was made of brick archways. Leaving Anders was sad, but it was inevitable. Although cold, Sweden was great.

Now that my hands ache, that concludes my little vacation. Currently, Anders and I are still together. We are applying for a residency/workvisa for me to be in Sweden for up to a year. Once that is granted (cross your fingers), I'm heading off to Prague to get the month-long certification to teach English. With that certification I'm heading up to Sweden to look for either a teaching job or a "real" job (though I'm not holding my breath). If I can't find one, then it's off to the rest of the world! Having the TEFL lets you teach nearly anywhere, so I'm thinking I'll start with France first (if not Prague, I loved it there), then Spain. Maybe Greece or Italy. After awhile I'd like to go to South America, then up to Asia.

So in a nut shell, I'm quitting my job and getting ready to travel around the world. I have no itinerary and no idea how long I'll be anywhere. I plan to leave in the beginning of May. Up until then, I'm just going to be saving every last penny, working hard and practicing my Swedish. Also, figuring out how to sell off everything I own, so if anyone has any good ebay tips, or knows anyone who needs to furnish an apartment, let me know!! That is the latest and greatest with me. I'm sorry that this email was so long, but no one said you had to read the whole thing...! Actually, some people actually like the detail believe it or not.

I hope everyone is doing well. I'd love to hear from you, let me know ifyou want to come over for some PB&J or some Top Ramen. Just kidding! Not really....

Take care!

Hillary