sätta på myggen.

My laptop's battery is acting all funny, so I have to write quick, which means writing worse than usual.

Some quick impressions. After five minutes of being on the flight to Stockholm, I was confronted with the fact that Svenska, or perhaps more realistically the accumulation of Nordic languages that were being spoken on this flight at this moment, is/are beautiful. As languages go. I mean, I think english is beautiful in its expressiveness, but maybe not in its sonic properties. Swedish, or Norsk, or Dansk, or whatever....just sounds like a song. Before we took off, it sounded like the whole front of the plane was calmly singing 45 or 55 different lullaby-like songs to each other.

And then the stewardess came on the intercom and the illusion was a bit shattered...her highs and lows were shaved off in the interest of businesslikeness, but still...entertaining as far as ununderstandable languages go.


Part two: my in-flight meal. No pictures this time, I was in an aisle seat, but I'll try to rectify this on the way back. It was probably the best in-flight meal I've ever had, and this has everything to do with my taste. I ordered the "Danish Selection Plate", which was designed to be a DIY smørrebrød. So you got: rye bread; nicely spiced roast beef; a meatball of sorts, some pate; some herring in mustard sauce; a gherkin; butter; and of course a hard-boiled egg. And you made your own bites. Thoroughly enjoyable.


Part three: Stockholm airport (Arlanda). The most deserted friday night airport I've ever seen. It might be worth mentioning at this point that I used to be a relatively serious flyer. No million miler or anything, but I was definitely some kind of level named after a precious metal (platinum, gold, etc) and I was for sure one of those annoying fucks who got to board before everyone else, and, if the occasion warranted it, I got to, er, demand things, like upgrading me to first class.

Of course, you know me (ha), I never did that, but people to whom I was professionally bound did this all the time and yes I possibly went along with it if we were traveling together (I was young! They were my bosses!). I could rationalize it at the time.

Anyway, it was nice at the time, before I realized what it meant. Those days of flying are probably gone now, I don't know since I don't fly professionally anymore. The point of all this is: I've seen a lot of airports. And this one is deserted as fuck on a Friday. Compared to like Atlanta.

I also feel compelled to mention: this is the only airport I've ever been to with lots and lots of flies. Foreshadowing?

This was my beer. 69 SEK. Tasty. And this is where I finally am now.

More soon.


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