The End.

All of the sudden I miss everyone.  I hope to see you again.  Thank you, especially to those I love.

-Michael

Love can no longer turn me on

Bringing fika back

Rather than longing for things that are not part of my life anymore, I either chose to forget them or plunder the best things and make them my own.

The barrage of smiles and handshakes accompanied by the inevitable "welcome back" elicits one of my predetermined token responses.  Either that or a long sigh and an awkward pause (for them).  How was the last year of your life?  Wait, don't answer that - I don't care.

Fear of the Dark awaits

Joel mentioned how Sweden would ruin coffee for me.  He was right.  Coffee is pretty good in Scandinavia.  Even the burnt crap from Restaurang White Shark that I would begrudgingly pay ten crowns for is better than most of the piss I drink here.  Coffee becomes pretty important to a straight-edge gap lifer such as myself.  First world problems.








Now it is raining outside and the cool breeze blowing in from the open window at my back feels almost comfortable.
New question:  If someone steals your identity, can you make up a new one?  Say "fuck it" to your credit history, student loans, car payment, child support, alimony, fears, etc. and become the person you were always afraid to be.  What would it take for you to let go?

Say hello to Max Power - the name you mustn't touch

Break our bones in half

It smells like dust and fire here.  It smells like West.  I walk outside in the mornings and breathe thin air.  My morning jog is terrible, but I suffer through.  The weak air is never enough.  I am never satisfied.  Like usual.    

rubber and asphalt

My skin is burned and cracked.  Last night my steamroller and I turned my lungs inside out, which took a lot less effort than I remember.  There was electricity in the air, which happens on occasion.  At that moment, I was exactly where I was meant to be.     

The sun rises late and sets early.  That bothers me.  I do not miss the shithawks calling my name all night.  Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night disoriented and wonder which direction the bathroom is.  I always find it.  

New digs.  The black cloud.

Last of the Independents

True Romance

The match that lights the fuse that blows your mind

Cross the sea with his secret plan

Words fail me when trying to describe the Stockholm Archipelago.  I heard some statistic that there is somewhere between 10,000 and 100,000 islands - depending on who you ask and what they consider an island.  Of course it is beautiful and awe inspiring to sail through.  There is a grey area where people exist with water and land.  Growing up under the assumption that water starts where land ends is not necessarily that clear cut.

The largest bed I've slept in for months

Finland is not considered Scandinavia.  While it is indeed nordic, the language and customs of it's people differentiate it from neighboring countries.  After arriving in Helsinki, I understood some of the distinction.  100 years of Russian occupation defined much of the architecture, although the people seemed to flourish under the repressive regime of social-democracy.  Similar to Scandinavia the trains (or trams as it were) ran on time, licorice was plentiful and the weather was crappy.

Finnish design is promoted heavily through various tourist outlets.  While iitala and marimekko didn't reinvent the wheel for me, I somehow felt drawn to purchase expensive textiles and glassware.  These brand's success is probably perpetuated by snobs such as myself that have grown accustom to expensive household products.  If I wasn't traveling out of a backpack, I would have purchased a 12 euro espresso cup.

Suomenlinna was the highlight of Helsinki.  While the city itself is nice, walkable and interesting, an island fortress that you can explore without a guided tour is better.  I'm not sure if you are technically allowed to poke around in the various munitions cells, but we did anyway.  At times the flash from the camera was needed to find where the hell we were.  

European Hatavirus 

Fatigue and sickness resulted is relative early nights.  I felt like a little kid falling asleep before the sun had completely set.  With that said, the sun set around 11:30 pm.  I'm sure I have mentioned this before, but it is a region of extreme opposites at times. 

What has 6 letter and four of them are "U's"?  

I find the Finnish language beautiful.  It is subtle, technical -and when spoken with a proper accent - can enchant a regular American dumbass.  A native english speaker has a hard time picking out the subtleties   in the language.  Not surprising when the only tool we have in our linguistic toolbox is a sledgehammer.  I leave you with my new favorite foreign word:  Uutuus.  

Spelling out what you know is best, everything is just a mess

Water and bridges, water and bridges

I feel guilty not seeing Stockholm sooner.  Although I've been to the city before, it has been over five years.  My memory has faded.  Stockholm has never been accused of being an ugly city.  The seamless interconnectedness of the urban landscape and water (due to the fact that the city is built on several islands) is something I appreciate after studying a similar subject in school.  With that said, the city has a strange flow due to the unique character each neighborhood (island) has, which is something I'm not sure I like.

Nice view of the cranes

After such a fun time in Gothenburg, Stockholm had the odds stacked against it.  Unfortunately the insane asylum turned hostel where we stayed was about as nice as it sounds.  Strike one Stockholm.  That, coupled with the fact that the location of the hostel was incredibly far from anything exciting meant that we had to buy travel cards at quite a high price.  Strike two.  But with those being the only two major complaints of the city, I would say we came up ahead regardless.

Monument to failure

By far the most interesting museum I have ever been to is the Vasa Museet.  Housed inside a dark and cold building lies the massive warship Vasa which sunk in Stockholm's harbor in 1628 after sailing for 1.3 kilometers.  This is a memorial to a monumental failure.  While insanely interesting and cool, I think it is also funny that people flock to see a ship that couldn't even sail.

We continued our travels with our new found German friends that we first met in Gothenburg.  Julia and Florian were rad people to get to know.  After waiting patiently for a fisherman to catch something for Florian to examine, we decided it was best to call it a weekend.  Stockholm taught me a few things:

• Beware of street signs
• I need a new pair of shoes
• Metalheads are the same everywhere.  Fat, drunk and smelly. 

Inside my head the coast is clear

sköldpadda - my 2nd favorite Swedish word

At the risk of sounding "uncool" and following the trend, I will agree that Gothenburg is a great fucking city.  Gothenburg's industrial and working class roots has led to a pretty defined character that sets the city apart from the posher and seemingly snobbier older brother, Stockholm.  Tattoos and band t-shirts abound, which is a characteristic I can appreciate.

Floating dry dock, which sounds like a perverse sexual position

The older I get the less I identify with the "straight-edge" lifestyle that helped to define most of my twenties, but I still tend to follow the majority of the dogma spit forth by the sXe apostles.  In regards to traveling, this means that my days are not dictated by the next bar stop.  Although I find this generally convenient, it means that you are forced to fill your days with admittedly touristy activities.  A canal tour is actually one thing I would recommend to anyone.  You get ferried around on a boat, see the sights, and usually have a cute local girl narrating the city's history to you in an endearing accent.  Not a bad thing.

Derp

Another bullshit time drain that I wouldn't necessarily recommend (due to the high risk of being seriously disappointed) is visiting the local-strange-shit-behind-glass-museum.  Gothenburg's Naturhistoriska Museum houses the most extensive collection of taxidermy in Scandinavia.  To rephrase that sentence, the Naturhistoriska Museum is home to a bunch of dead animals that seem to have died with absolutely absurd and hilarious expressions on their face.  If, for what ever reason, you are in a deep state of depression and haven't cracked a smile in months, I would drop the cash on a plane ticket to Gothenburg and check out this ridiculous museum.  If you don't laugh at the silly faces on the animals then there is no hope for you.  Just kill yourself already.

Snail - Swedish style

 Maybe it is because I was raised by recovering hippies, but I always find botanic gardens pretty rad places to spend the afternoon.  They are generally cheap (or free) to enter and have a noticeable lack of people meandering around and getting in your way.  I sometimes wonder how the hell botanic gardens stay in business, but I'm afraid that if I draw too much attention to the lack of patronage then the city (or whoever the hell subsidizes it) will get wise and shut the whole thing down.  Regardless, Gothenburg has the best gardens I have had the privilege of lurking.
Other highlights

• nicest hostel I've ever stayed in
• great evening with new found German (and Swiss/Canadian) friends
• rock and roll bar that played local metal 

Tired of your vows

Due to commitment to continuity, I will try to create some recapitulated travel diary of my latest chapter in the Spring Break odyssey.   Considering spring officially ends in one week, this will be a nice resolution.

I've heard mixed things about ferry rides.  First of all, slow travel is somewhat of a new experience for me, but it seems like no one I've spoken with wants to be outright negative about the Copenhagen - Oslo ferry.  I will be truthful.  It would have been shitty had I not had great company to judge the geriatric Danes on their booze cruise.  Our cabin smelled like crude oil and the food was incredibly overpriced.  So we ate peanut butter on bread with chocolate from duty free for dessert.  Surprisingly, not the worst dinner I've ever had.  And I was also able to secure a decent nights sleep. 

The sunset at 11:30 pm is worth mentioning.  This is a total country of opposites.  I remember googling instructions for proper noose tying techniques in February because of the serious lack of daylight.  Now, it is lucky if you get 4 solid hours of darkness.  

Rape and pillage in style

 Oslo is expensive.  We joke about it, but seriously, you will hemorrhage money walking down the street in that town.  So we decided one day would have to make due.  It was plenty. After the mandatory pilgrimage to a few historically important black metal sites, we hit up the viking (excuse me, wiking) museum.  History is pretty rad. 

breeders.  

After some searching we found what is possibly the ugliest/awesomest sculpture ever created.  Somehow, a man attacking several small children really speaks to my soul.  I'm already sketching up some tattoo ideas.

   

Once I deciphered a cryptic text message from Ondrej, I discovered that you can indeed scale the summit of the Oslo opera house.  While it is totally touristic and silly, it doesn't require you to sell a kidney in order to secure adequate funding.  My ulterior goal of seducing a Norwegian Stat Oil princess (for love, not money of course) was more difficult than I previously anticipated.  I guess there is always Bergen.      

        

Have you heard that love is dead?

Attack of the clones

Not to get overly sentimental, but the last few days have been nothing short of amazing.  Excellent family and friends, good parties and decent food.  Although Sweden's days are numbered for several of us, it has been a great send off.

Grill master J and Drej

Due to time constraints and the need to catch a ferry to Oslo, I will keep this brief.  Bbq's are great.

 Swimming in the cold Scandinavian water is invigorating.  Going "commando" will now be refereed to as going "gypsy"

  Even back in the day, Swedes could shred - guitar or lute.  Doesn't matter. 

See you in Oslo.

Stay True

4 Corners Entourage - underwear in hand. 

Jet lag can't keep them down.  A few familiar faces after several months is an incredibly welcome sight.  I'm not going to write a story about how much it means.  I'm going to enjoy it for myself.

Step out if you want, stay in if you're bold

After approximately 9 months I have assimilated to the nordic culture.  Quiet, humble, non-confrontational, bureaucratic, with decent taste in clothing.

Essential for Swedish residency application: suit (sans tie) + city bike

School is finished, thesis defended and archived, bros arrive tomorrow, and the weather is borderline phenomenal.  Everything continues to come up Millhouse. 

Settling into my new Swedish Time Share sales rep position.

The mystery of the beginning of all things is insoluble by us.

The cumulation of several weeks worth of work (intermixed with multiple vacations) has been judged good enough to earn a banana sticker.   In other words, this is the pinnacle of academic perfection.  Countless sleepless nights and hours of frustration has resulted in what is perhaps the most thought provoking piece of literature since Darwin's On the Origin of Species.  I have been waiting for the call from the Nobel Committee, but so far have yet to hear anything.  Would someone mind giving me a ring just to make sure my mobile is working?  

Thank you in advance,

M. Scott Lawrence I   

A scientific man ought to have no wishes, no affections.  A mere heart of stone. 

My lips and fingertips were stone

Last of the Brohicans 

It hit me like a wrecking ball as I stood on the platform while it rained.  I came to the realization while struggling to remain upright amongst the hordes of Zombies. The trains no longer run on time.  It is time to leave Scandinavia.

I'd do it again if I could

Icelandic ash makes for epic sunsets

I = clean shaven with a new haircut, well rested, finished with school, sunburned as shit.  March has been a hell of a long month.  Spring break rolls on... 

Flesh is all we will ever be.

Something about this damn tree

On the eve of some crazy religious bullshit, I'm reminded of the fact that I feel no need to have the world explained to me by fairy tales.  I am perfectly comfortable with the uncertainty that comes with being human.

So I wanted goals.

As we crossed over to greenwich mean time, my body no longer felt like hammered shit, which could have been a major contributing factor to my favorable opinion of Lisboa.  The streets were dirty, the hills steep and coffee/wine plentiful.  In fact, I think I came close to my lifelong goal of drinking 100 cups of coffee in a 72 hour period.  The other dudes might have came close to port overdose.

Life behind bars

After being extremely cruel to the woman at the front desk (and the Portugese education system as a whole) due to her poor math skills we proceeded to watch some television.  If you possess a rudimentary knowledge of Spanish, Portugese is relatively easy to read.  Spoken Portugese, on the other hand, is a different animal.  To me is sounds Slavic... and sexy.  Too bad the majority of women in Lisbon look like war torn veterans of the human trafficking industry.

Initially we assumed Lisbon was a prime location to work on our beach bod tan.  After receiving some peculiar looks from the taxi driver after we inquired as to where the best beaches were located, we came to the realization that they were several hundred kilometers south of where we were.  So, we managed to epically fail at the number one reason for traveling to the Iberian Peninsula.  We did not see a single beach.  

Do it already

    The theme of the trip was "detox".  Although due to my straight edge lifestyle I have very little I need to sweat out of my system other than protein powder and kanalbulle.  But I think we did well by restricting our diet to caffeine, sugary pastries, grilled meats and port/beer/wine.  And the excessive amount of sun really capped everything off.   

You know those cameras that are like.... double cameras?

     

Postscript.

It is 10 pm and I am lying on the floor because the frame of my cot is giving me a dislocated vertebrae.  From where I sit I can see the sky with enough light in the air to make out the color of the clouds.  I will miss a few things about this northern latitude.    

They looked like Roman columns on the map

I appreciated Madrid for it's unadulterated feeling towards toursits like myself.  It possessed the royal culture that Barcelona lacked.  Also, I felt the city could exist just fine without mobs of tourists emptying their pockets on crappy tapas and cheap hookers.  It tolerated us but did not care if and when we left.

   The botanic gardens wasn't anything amazing, but it was a nice place to take an afternoon stroll.  Although, I did manage to find one thing of significance.  When I was a kid my mother tried to instill an appreciation for gardening in me.  I wish I could say that I was a good pupil.  One day she brought home the most interesting plant I have ever seen.  A mimosa pudica.  My brother and I killed it quickly.  But the Real Jardin Botánico de Madrid had a mimosa pudica the size of a tree.  Against my better judgement I touched the leaves.

Due to time constraints we kept moving, although I am sure I could have spent much more time in Madrid.  During our time in Spain we had much discussion on the "future" and what we expected over the next several months.   We came to a general consensus that owning a set of dinner plates is an achievable goal.  Better to ease out of our gap life slowly.  

Elevation

And so we said our goodbyes and pressed on to seek the fortune that we knew was looking for us.

Kill the lights. Kill the beat.

Life between buildings

After hours of watching passing countryside and endless rows of orange trees through the window of a bus, I started to realize that Mediterranean Spain reminded me of the 4c (sans orange trees).  Arid, dry climate with some hills.  It was nice to daydream.

Vasco discovers the perfect pour

  I liked Valencia in the respect that I lacked any preconceived expectations that the city was forced to live up to.  It was clean, full of gay dudes, and shut down between the hours of 3 and 6pm.  The microwaved paella at the bar next to the sex shop was surprisingly tasty.

Major life lesson:  Always open the drapes before packing for a day at the beach.  It might be fucking raining.

The bull fight pro salutes you

I hesitate writing about the bull fight we watched.  Everyone that I have spoken with has this inherent disgust with the ritual of killing bulls, yet they have no problem eating meat which come from animals who almost certainly lead worse lives (until they are unceremoniously slaughtered).
I, on the other hand, thought the bull fight was an amazing spectacle to witness.  These animals are specifically bred (and probably lead a good life) for a magnificent death.  The ceremony and respect given to the animals overshadow the "brutal" slaughter in the end. Death can be a beautiful thing.  Consider yourself lucky if you receive a standing ovation when you die.  
Moreover, after living in what is arguably the most equal (feminist) society on the planet, it was refreshing to see an overt display of masculinity.  While I would normally accuse a dude wearing bright pink socks and a skin tight sequined gold jump suit of somehow being less than a man - these dudes embody macho.  Staring a 1000 lb bull in the face must take courage.  And even when one matador caught a head-butt to the face, he still finished the match.  That impresses me more than your suit/tie job and diversified portfolio.  

Madrid calling