The Exchange II. A Rather Busy Weekend
So it came to be that one humble Saturday I stirred from my bed at the ungodly hour of 6:30am to jump on my bicycle to catch an 8am train. This train would carry me South to the slushy city of Stockholm. And why might I be tearing myself so painfully from my sleep for such an endeavor? Well this is how it transpired.
That Saturday night was the International Gasque which is just a way of saying a fancy and slightly overpriced dinner. The wear for such an event was formal, and unsurprisingly I had left my suit in New Zealand. My Swedish friend Emil offered his suit for service, but later negated that telling me he had left it at home in Stockholm. Now with this dilemma I found myself in conversation with another Swede, Emma, who suggested to me that I should go to Stockholm and get the suit myself. She went on to say that she might even join to take some photos around town. I jumped on the offer of some Saturday entertainment, and that is the story of how I came to be sat on a morning train to Stockholm, with a Swede in tow.
The weather on arrival was a barmy 1 °c. This may sound like a good thing if you compare it to the day of my arrival in Uppsala which was more like -20 °c. This optimism would sadly be misplaced, that slight nudge above freezing is enough to turn the beautiful white snow into a mess of brown slush. This did little to put off our dynamic duo, the show must go on! The first part of the day was spent smoldering in the old town, finding many colourful doors to try and act cool with.
Having worn out all the doors in the old part of Stockholm we decided to cross the river. In the process we passed the famous Red House, which is famous for being… red. So famous in fact that the Swedes decided that more houses should be this colour and they proceeded to paint half of Swedeland red. Over the river we found more slush and in amongst that an op-shop or two. This was ideal as Emil had failed to pull through with a suit so I still had to scrap a suit together. After much faffing, indecision and doubt, I forced poor Emma back to the first store we had looked in so I could buy a jacket that had some resemblance of a fit. This feat of finding a jacket was even more impressive when you consider we had to juggle 4 cameras between us when I was trying things on.
With that small victory under our belts we skidded through the streets in search of an Italian restaurant that would suitably satisfy our craving for something Mediterranean. I can recommend Luigi’s, the pizza was superb. We lost track of time in the cosy little place, hurriedly getting out the door in the hope of catching an earlier train back to Uppsala so I wouldn’t be late for the International Gasque that night. Halfway to the station I realized I had nothing to wear from the waist down… ahhhh. A quick trip to H & M and I came away with some insanely tight (and cheap) pants and a pair of shoes. The early start and the excitement of the day really hit me on the train, where Emma had to wake me from a nap as we pulled into Uppsala.
I said my goodbyes before racing off on my bike, well away of the time pressure that the pant diversion had created. Not wanting to be caught with my pants down I rushed through the shower, ironed my shirt and pulled the whole outfit together. The corridors of Flogsta were deserted, so it was up to me to make my way to wherever this bloody gasque was, I had no clue. I stood at the bus stop fiddling with my phone trying to connect to the free wifi as the bus pulled up. Giving up in frustration I admitted defeat and paid the full fare for the bus. I breathed a sigh of relief as two friends from Flogsta boarded at the next stop, hopefully they would know where to go. This was not exactly the case but somehow we found the gasque, only to discover someone had drunk all the free champers!! This ‘predrinks’ part of the evening therefore was rather lacking in liquid. No matter, I had made it. When the dinner gong sounded the horde of international students swarmed up the stairwell to the tables. I walked up with a curator from Gotland nation who I had seen around a few times. The weird coincidence was she ended up sitting beside me. Even weirder when she admitted she was arranging the seating! She swore it was just chance. I can’t help being this charming, can’t blame the girl.
Now you might be asking what exactly is a gasque. Let me sum it up for you, a long drawn out gauntlet of small talk, punctuated by singing, toasts, shots of schnapps and what can be rather disappointing food. The saving grace of such an evening is good table company, something I was lucky to have on this occasion. We ran through the regular small talk before jumping down the rabbit-hole, safe to say the non-native English speakers at the table were left with new vocabulary by my table-mates. Halfway through the evening I managed to escape to someones flat for some extra schnapps, which prevented any small talk fatigue. The evening closed with a rather rousing rendition of What do we do with a drunken sailor. After that evening filed downstairs as the tables were put away as the behind the scenes crew set up for a party. While this was going on I left with the small crew I had fallen in with to Sneirkes where we sat for a few hours over a pint, relishing the relative quiet. It is true some members of the crew were more intoxicated than others but that just made it all the more entertaining. When the Sneikes pub closed at 1am we drifted back to V-Dala to do some dancing. Our little group thinned out somewhat on the dance floor. As the night was closing we had some degree of trouble pulling the ‘hot German guy’ away from his pining fans. After some struggling we achieved the feat and it was our little crew that instead made it back to his little flat. Here we laughed, drank and questioned our existence with each other into the small hours of the morning. Part of this inertia to go home was caused by the blizzard that was swirling around outside. I called my retreat at 5:30am, and with a few G & T’s under my belt made the epic run home, braving the storm. I wish I’d have taken a photo of the walking snowman that I had become when I stumbled into Flogsta, however my phone was dead, so I’ll just let you try and imagine it.
The alarm on my phone shook me awake at 11am. You might have thought that I had planned a lazy Sunday given the adventures of the previous day. Rather the opposite was true, I found myself at the station for the second day in a row, this time to take a bus to Stockholm. There I was to meet up with some friends from Flogsta before boarding a ship bound for Helsinki. If it sounds exhausting, that’s because it was. Three girls on the bus were also part of the band and so they dragged a rather tired and grouchy Sam around as they attempted to locate the rest of our group who were outside the “Pressbyrån”. Now this really was a mission as Stockholm Central Station has about four of these stores alone. That plan was eventually abandoned due to closing time restraints and instead we met the others on the other side of the metro by the port.
Given that performance getting on board the ship was a piece of cake. I was expecting a rather soviet version of the Interislander, instead I found myself inside some sort of Swedish Cruise ship, with someone selling champagne, restaurants and it’s own full tax-free store. Now I’ll save you all the details of our time aboard but for €4.90 you could buy a cure for a hangover and that’s what pulled me through the night (wine). Well that and a short nap.
After a wild night of karaoke I awoke in my cabin as we were pulling into Helsinki. ‘Customs’ was non-existant, although the signage remained in place. It felt good to have my feet on dry land again. Tiia, our native Fin went into full tour guide mode as we hit the pavement. The first stop was a covered market on the waterfront where our party found some breakfast to fuel us for the day ahead.
Lauren decided to spill her ‘fuel’ all over the floor and what followed was a series of awkward requests to the Finnish man behind the counter for an excessive number of serviettes. When Erik went to order the man asked if Erik could pass on his regards to Mr Trump. We all laughed. Once we had food in our bellies we made our way around the waterfront, before cutting inland to the Orthodox cathedral. On our way there we were flagged down by a man who requested “some big strong burly men” to assist him. Turns out 12 exchange students is just what you need when you get your van stuck in the snow. The cathedral was pretty, and closed, so we moved on, carefully negotiating the icy slopes. Some how we managed to get back down to the waterfront on our feet rather than our bums.
The next stop on Tiia’s tour of Helsinki was the Evangelical Lutheran cathedral. It was here that we faced our next challenge, a flight of particularly slippery stairs. You might be noticing a theme by now. The mountain climber within me decided that a full frontal assault of the snowier end of the slop would be the easier route. I was careful not to ram my toes against the steps lurking under the snow. I was rather disappointed that there was no domino effect of everyone slipping down the slope, that might have been rather entertaining. At the top we took some group photos, embracing our inner tourist.
After another icy traverse we wandered in the direction of the new library. This might sound like a rather dull tourist attraction but you’d be surprised! The building looked more like a giant sculpture than a library, it was Finland’s present to itself to mark its 100th birthday, aka independence from the Russian Empire. Whilst some of our group were so fried by this point they could do little more than sit down, a collection of us explored up to the top level, which is more akin to a spaceship. After photos at the bow, we headed astern, via some very entertaining swirly chairs. Eventually we regrouped, a process that with a group of 12 is not altogether easy. In the execution of this goal I tried to slip in a brief nap, much to the dissatisfaction of the librarian who promptly told me to pull myself together.
I fled the library with the group in tow. We passed the set for the celebration of Chinese New Year as we made our way through the city in no particular direction. By this point everyone’s minds were on food again so when Tiia mooted stopping off at a Mexican place everyone voiced their approval. The lady at the counter informed us it was all you can eat for €10 much to the delight of all those present. Safe to say we all ate far too much.
From this point we really didn’t know what to do, so we meandered through the streets and the malls, stopping at a supermarket before finding ourselves in a series of snowy parks. Being surrounded by 8 girls does something to a man, and in a desperate attempt to let off some testosterone Erik, Georg and I summited one of the snow/ice hills that were dotted around the parks. Once at the summit we grappled each other with a primal energy, with the goal of sending our opponent scuttling down into the snowy pits of failure that flanked our prize. We repeated this ritual several times, much to the bemusement of the ladies who walked on without us.
We headed back in the rough direction of the port, even though there was still an hour or so before boarding. After a quick forum as to what our plans should be next, we agreed on walking towards the setting sun, which in turn led us to a hill top which allowed us to survey the icy expanse that stretched beyond the city. The sun setting over such a scene was rather spectacular. The downside of such a view point was the polar winds sweeping over us, so we retreated down yet another set of icy steps to the road that would carry us round to our ship. Erik and I figured that we had plenty of time and the view was too spectacular to waste, so we spent some time down at the wharf. Afterall, we could catch up the others? We were in no particular rush getting back to the others who were now boarding the ship. It was only once we were at the terminal did we discover if we were a minute later we would have missed the ship!
Our crew reassembled at the stern of the ship, enjoying the view out over Helsinki. It was awhile till the ship pulled away, breaking out of its icy constraints. The hardy of us remained on deck until darkness had well and truly descended on the scene.
When I eventually retreated from the cold I couldn’t find the others anywhere. I nearly settled down for a nap until I was stirred by Laura making a group call. Someone picked up on the other end and informed us that the rest of the group were at the pool. I rolled out of bed, grabbed my togs and navigated my way up to the pool. I found the others chilling out in the spa. We relaxed here for an hour or so together before the girls left, leaving just us boys with free reign over the hot tub. We punctuated our soaking with trips to the sauna. This was nearly the end of us, when a Finnish man took displeasure to our use of English and proceeded to try and burn us out of the joint. As the tips of my ears started burning, eyes drying and sweat pouring out of every pore my resolve faltered and I tried to make a dash for the door. I was closely followed by the others. There was a brief moment when I wondered if this would be where it all ended, if I had fucked up for one last time. Gasping I burst out into the shower room, alive, just. The rest of the night followed a similar pattern as the night before, we were all sure to make the most of the tax-free booze.
The next morning it was nearly impossible to rouse the crew from their alcohol induced slumbers. It got to the point when I wondered if Tiia’s cabin were ever going to get off the boat. I had already booked a FlixBus back to Uppsala, so I was a bit weary of the time. Once we docked I made no delay in heading for the metro, accompanied by Erik and Georg. It all turned out okay in the end, I even made my 1:15pm class, albeit not in the most collected state. All in all, a rather busy weekend.
All aboard for Estonia?
