Thursday, June 14, 2012

Emelia Returns from Sweden

A chronicle, from Växjö to Minnesota. 

  • My suitcase doesn't roll so much anymore. It's more of a slooow drag.
  • Nearly flipped my suitcase onto a stroller getting off bus in town.  My apologies, family. 
  • Swedes don't open doors for you.  I'm normally fine with this.  However, I'm not when I have three overstuffed bags and a heavy coat.  Hjälp mig [help me]. 
  • Husband-hunting en route to Copenhagen.  Several good options afoot. 
  • Did a double-take at a guy with a tan scarf. He noticed.  Whoops. 
  • Oh my God, am actually leaving. 
  • Must listen to upbeat American country music to quell building feelings of impending leaving.
  • I momentarily have the whole train car to myself.  Wanting it utilize it to perform "If My Heart Had Wings."
  • Sir, you have walked through here like eight times.  Park yourself. 
  • Just attempted to leap into my seat.  It was flipped up.  I leave you to imagine the results. 
  • Why is my nail polish chipped exactly the same on both thumbs? 
  • Accidentally flung my iPod on the floor.  Guy next to me is unimpressed.  You could judge if you weren't wearing navy blue socks and brown Velcro sandals, buddy.
  • Elton weighed in at 18.5 kilograms, with a limit of 23.  That was the most beautiful moment of the trip.  So in went the coat with the fur and other randoms. 
  • Had excellent conversation with cashier at WHSmith.  Shared my odyssey and she gave me extra napkins.  Ours is the best friendship that never was. 
  • Husband-hunting in airport.  Hello, young pilot with Danish features. 
  • My arms hurt from schlepping my bags across Scandinavia. 
  • The airport's a-bustlin' and it's not even 5:00!  
  • Plane time.
  • Had mad dash through the Oslo airport.  The security guards are on strike, meaning I had to go all the way through security again and sprint through a whole terminal.  (Well, sprint/power-walk while panicking and dreading falling.)  Then I hit passport control, where some moron angrily chatted up the guard for 573 decades.  He finally got through and the guard decided to take a break and swap with another guy, who told me not to worry about making my flight, because it was still there.  Yet the panic was not quelled, since it was 11:00 and the departure time was 11:05.  And there is nothing more stressful than seeing BOARDING CLOSING on the departure screen (though departing from Gate 53 and needing to get there quickly from Gate 30 does come close).  I tossed my passport and boarding card at the people at my gate and MIRACLE OF MIRACLES, the plane was actually still there!   So I proclaimed "God bless Norway!" and flew down the gangplank, where I was greeted by the world's nicest people.  A flight attendant whose name may have been Helen gave me a glass of water and the pilot called me love.  I'm pretty sure I was flustered enough to merit concern.  I traipsed through the plane and felt the need to inform everyone "Don't worry, I'm not in first class."  Then I found my seat (window, naturally) and stared, shell shocked, at beautiful Norway.
  • Now I have passport stamps from all of Scandinavia!
  • I smell like an airplane mixed with terror. 
  • If the wine is free, I'm chuggin' it.
  • Seven hours is too long to spend on a plane in the daytime.
  • Fifty Shades of Gray is apparently seriously the new thing, at least in the Newark airport.  Ooookay.
  • English magazines as far as the eye can see! 
  • CNN's headlines have been "Mom: Doll Called Me A Crazy B****,"  "Seat Belt: Gas Can or Child?"  and something about Obama and Call Me Maybe.  It's nice to be back. 
  • Listening to a girl explain her trip home from Morocco.  She's got henna on her arms and ethic-print harem pants.  I just have riding boots and a purple Swedish scarf.  
So that's how I got here. Photos coming soon. 

Friday, June 8, 2012

Tuesday, June 5, 2012


Chillin' in Copenhagen, waiting for it to be morning so I can fly across the ocean!

...and there goes the internet.

The Consummation of Packing

My suitcase is most definitely overweight. I'll figure this issue out later.

Time to hit the train tracks.

Farewell, Sweden! 

Vlog Eleven: Packing, Cleaning, and Hey, I Wear Glasses!

Packing: Day Four, Part Two

So it's really Day Five of Packing, but I'm still awake from Day Four.

Stop it, caps.

ANYHOW (they're not stopping), my suitcase is heavy. How heavy? Pfft. We're not gonna find that out until tomorrow, boys and girls. Then we're gonna downsize (sayanora, snowboots) and hang out overnight in the Kastrup Lufthavn (that's the airport).

I'm attempting to re-acclimate to Central Time, which runs seven hours behind. I'm not sure if it's working.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Packing: Day Four, Part One

Have I ever mentioned that cleaning isn't my favorite thing? I wouldn't be going all OCD with it if there weren't stories of  huge fines for not, I don't know, properly dusting the inside of the radiator. Unnecessary. 

Also, my map of the city fell down this morning.  That's a sign it's time to go!