After two dreadful hours, I finally landed in Stockholm. I was seriously shitting bricks because me, being the carefree person I usually am, was supposed to meet up with Stina, a Swedish girl I had lived with for like 6 months back in Monterrey, Mexico. She was in charge of booking hostels and picking me up at the central station and all that, so of course I had nothing to worry about except for finding her.
Yeah, that was more difficult than I expected it to.
I was neither counting on the station being huge nor on it being full of Swedes. Oh, the humanity!
Walked around for like 20 minutes and then God enlightened me and told me to walk up some stairs. You just have to love when that happens – not walking, but God enlightening you. I finally found Stina and we were ready to go! First stop: Wine store, obviously.
Anyway, so we finally got to the hostel, took a much needed shower, and when I came back to the room (communal showers, you have to love them) I’m welcomed with the sight of two more girls in the room: Malin – Swede – and Lisa – Canadian.
Oh, could I be happier! They were two of the persons whom I spent most time with back in France! Yes, it was great to see them again! It all shot to shit the second they suggested to have dinner in Friday’s, but whatever. We ended up going back to the hostel after that, to get some much needed rest.
Next day, we met up with the new ‘It’ couple, Matt – Canadian – and Anna – Finn. We walked around, took pics, made fun of the Swedes… anyway, the things you usually do when you’re traveling. After a while, the ‘It’ couple decided to go back to their hostel to sleep fuck and meet up for dinner.
Oh, was I in for some trouble…
Turns out, I had been wrong all my life. It’s not Americans who are picky about the food and only want to eat at McDonald’s. Oh, no. It’s the Canadians’ fault all the way! Those two weeks were possibly the worst weeks of my life regarding the quality of the food. I mean, I don’t want to sound like a snob, but I’m used to eating at actual restaurants, French or Italian if possible, not Chinese or… McDonald’s. Gastronomy at its best.
Afterward, we went to a bar – finally some much needed alcohol! Except that didn’t happen.
Apparently, even if you look over 18 years old and you’re hanging out with a group of people that are 24 years old in average, you don’t get to buy alcohol if you don’t bring an ID with you. Well, fuck me with a 10 foot-long pole! And of course, because it’s just my shitty luck, that nearly happened. The guard, a huge black guy, told me that if he saw me drinking anything, he would kick me out rape me. And that I wasn’t looking forward to.
So I walked all the way back to the hostel with Stina, and decided to get hammered by ourselves. Not an easy deed, but we were very committed! In the end, we were hanging outside the hostel when I see the distinctive silhouette of Maggie-Canadian-sex-predator-Charron. Yup, the group was complete now…
And I couldn’t had been more terrified.
