Hostel?? Host…ile.

Where the girls sleep

I know it’s a lame picture but I thought it looked kinda cool

If I could give you an example of luxury, the STF Chapman af Skeppsholmen hostel would definitely not be included. With that being said though I have to admit I enjoy “roughing” it, although it’s not like we didn’t have running water, with excellent heat and pressure by the way, and also a really good cafe. The hostel wasn’t bad at all. It’s also part ship, yeah like a permanently docked ship with dorms that tourists sleep in, very cool, very cold.

We were in room 300, which took about 4 flights of stairs to get to. The bathroom was a closet and in order to fit 2 people in there one would have to stand on the toilet. In the showers you’d have to push this pump to keep the water hot, and to keep the water coming, yay energy conservation.

In the girls’ bedroom, the ceiling was about 6 feet off the floor and our eighteen beds in two rows were def a throwback to Madeline, ” . . . and there they slept in their eighteen little beds, in two little rows . . .”

Not to mention, since being a day late I was left with the only cot in the room. It was surprisingly comfortable, however, the first time I sat on it, two bars supporting my mattress fell off. (Ultimate fat moment)

Also, the Swedes are probably the least vain people I know as it was impossible to find a mirror. For four days we had no idea what we looked like. Although I’m assuming with a black coat, ray bans, a black hood and a scarf covering half my face, I didn’t exactly look like a safe person to be around, and that’s not saying much.

åtta Flaggmansvagen:

An idea of what the village part of Stockholm looks like

After landing and gathering my luggage. I managed to decipher the Swedish instructions on the airport pay phone and called the states and the youth hostel supposedly hosting my class.

“Your clasz checked een Miss but they are out for ze day. I can take a meszage.” Said the receptionist.

I couldn’t reach my teachers on their cellphones either and when trying to buy a cellphone for myself I was informed by the woman at the information desk that of course there are no cellphones available for sale in the airport. No no that would make life far too easy. At least the cabs were visible from inside.

As soon as I walk outside I get a slap of cold wind right on my face, yet luckily a large rugged looking taxi driver with a scarred and scruffy kind face waves at me. I open my notebook and show him where I need to go. He nods like he knows the place and throws my suitcases in the back. After 5 minutes of driving he mumbles something, I obviously don’t understand but it sounds like a question. I pull out my notebook and point to the address,

“STF Chapman? You know? I’m sorry I only know how to say ‘Tack’”

He smiles and puts the address into his navigation system.

After 45 minutes of driving we cross a bridge and Mr. Cab Driver Man proceeds to stop at every building in the area. (Fuck navs, I mean really.)

“8 Flaggmansvagen? Is this Flaggmansvagen um, road?” I ask.

He keeps answering eight in Swedish but we’re both not convinced we’re at the right place. Knowing there is only one way to find out, because again navigation systems are pieces of shit,  we both get out and knock on different doors, on different buildings, running here and there, signing and writing things down in attempt to communicate. It was like a Swedish crazed game of charades.

He lets me use his cellphone to call the hostel but no luck. Not to mention wherever he took me to seems deserted and it’s way under 20 degrees. Finally I see the sign for STF Chapman af Skeppsholmen, I point and the cab driver seems to be just as relieved as I am. This is why I liked him, at least I had someone to be stressed with. Besides, he could have easily left me stranded there but he was just as determined to find the hostel as I was.

I run into the hostel lobby/cafe, (it’s freezing and I wanted to buy myself and the cabby a hot bev) and there’s Tony (teacher)! My world completely 180′d on me in the .5 seconds it took for Tony to smile get up and give me a hug.

“I’m so glad you made it!!!” He said.

From being stranded in a foreign country, reliant solely on pay phones and Mr. Cab Driver Man to being embraced by a familiar face everything was incredibly surreal.

Tony paid the cabdriver and took my bags as I awkwardly thanked both of them profusely. (“Uhh, thank you!!! Tack… tack tack, tack…. tack?) After 20 minutes of settling in I find myself again in another cab but this time with a granola bar in my tum and Tony  by my side. Hooray for Sveden ya!!!

Panic

There is no way to summarize in detail the events that have occurred in my life in the last 72 hours. To illustrate how Having Your Life Together can change over the course of 3 days, I’ve developed a timeline.

January 2, 2009

5:45 pm – Call from Jules (teacher) asking where I was as the entire class was at the Philadelphia International Airport waiting to board. Up until this point thought flight left the following night. Hoped was all a prank thought up by teachers. Unfortunately very wrong.

5:46 pm – Panic

6:00 pm – Found great deal on flight to Stockholm via Malaysia Airlines. What the hell is Malaysia Airlines and why are their tickets so cheap? Assumed airline acts as huge ploy for real mail-order bride service from Asian countries.

6:40 pm: Convinced self that just because I’ve never heard of Malaysia Airlines, doesn’t mean not a safe way to travel. Confirmed purchase and booked flight.

7:30 pm: Dinner

3:00 am: Bed: (You’re probably wondering what happened between dinner and bed, it basically consisted of playing musical instruments, organizing plans for following day, and spending time with family, namely sister.)

January 3, 2009

8:00 am – Woke up to incessant kitten licks and nibbles on face… and to the discovery that nose and throat no longer function.

8:30 am – Called boyfriend to complain and pity self. After giving useful advice, he managed to fall asleep on the phone.

12:30 pm – Convinced by mother that I should see a doctor.

12:45 pm – Rushed to pediatrics as still don’t have a real doctor. Yes that’s right, my childhood doctor.

1:15 pm – After admiring the Beauty & the Beast puzzles that were not only solved but framed throughout the office walls, was prescribed medication for ear infection and cold. Perfect timing.

1:30 pm – CVS Pharmacy: Waited forevvvvvvverrr to pick up prescriptions.

2:00 – 3:30 pm – Errands

4:00 pm – Showered & Packed

6:00 pm – Dinner

8:00 pm – Arrived at Newark Airport for 9:30 flight. Line for Malaysia Airlines took up over 5 lanes. Kissed parents farewell. Very, very alone.

9:35 pm: Boarded and Took off. Endured restless flight hence a more than friendly relationship with Tylenol PM.

11:00 pm: Woken up by strong tap on shoulder. Was flight attendant trying to feed passengers with frozen airplane food. Refused to eat and fell back asleep.

January 4, 2009

4:00 am: Woken up by strong tap on shoulder. Was flight attendant again, this time with cold egg and cheese bagels. Contemplated if the egg was really egg and fell back asleep.

11:35 am: Landed on time. Found myself in a foreign country where I only knew how to say “Thank you” in native language, without a phone and without any idea as to where I should be. Guess I got what I wanted.

Postscript: Please excuse how delirious my writing is in this entry. I’m extremely jetlagged and its 3:30 AM in Stockholm.

Bittersweet

 

On a whim last year I signed up to travel across Europe, (specifically, Stockholm, Paris, and Barcelona.) I figured I didn’t have much to lose, besides my dad’s money, but looking back I realize that I am currently in a completely different place in my life than where I was when I signed up for this trip, a place known as, “Having Your Life Together”(HYLT), definitely somewhere I didn’t think I’d arrive to so soon.

In becoming a member of HYLT, it seems now I have more to lose than evah. With a sweetass boyfriend waiting for me, a kitten I’m responsible for (who by the way is currently purring heavily on my shoulder), heterosexual lifemates, and supportive friends and family, I’m leaving a lot behind… but I have to keep reminding myself that I have a lot to look forward to as well.

Besides, I can still have my life together in Europe right? I fucking hope not. I hope I get lost, I hope I go broke, I hope my cell phone and the 3 words I know in French won’t help me get by at all. Then I’ll have stories for you all. Then I can say this trip was a successful one. Then I can convince myself no matter how OCD I am, (I made a list of everything I’m packing and divided it into sub-lists by category, from toiletries to shoes) I will never have full control over everything in my life. A lesson for all you boys and girls.

I’m stuck in this dichotomy between feelings of excitement and anxiety, everything is simply bittersweet.

 

XXX