But anyway, that was avoided, and I'm safe and sound in my new (temporary) apartment.Apologies for the lack of pictures, but you'll just have to make due with selected anecdotes from my adventure and the view from our living room.
Notable highlights of the trip include discovering that SAS has forward and downward cameras that you can watch on your seatback televisions. This made my seat in the rear of the plane, center row, across the aisle from a closet, much more bearable.
Also, in case anyone was wondering, Sodexo caters to Stockholm Arlanda Airport. There is literally no escaping their culinary reign of terror.
Finally, in my last minute rush leaving the house yesterday, I forgot to get directions to my apartment here. (I also forgot my toothbrush. No Mom and Pop, I was not kidding about that.) Using the magic of a Blackberry, I got very rough directions to my neighborhood here. However, after getting off the bus at Hans Knudsens Plads, all Google told me to do was 'Arrive at Engelstedsgade 51'. Helpful.
I tried asking some off duty bus drivers for directions, but they had no idea, so I ended up asking some clearly local older gentlemen in the park. They were all originally from Russia, and spoke surprisingly wonderful English. They were also quick to offer me a heavily chewed cigar and a swig from their bottle of vodka, even though it was only 12:30 pm. I declined.
Not only did one of them walk me to my apartment and insist on taking one of my 50 lb bags, but I now have the sworn protection of the local Russian posse. There are definitely worse welcomes that one could have.
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| Here it is. |
Also, in case anyone was wondering, Sodexo caters to Stockholm Arlanda Airport. There is literally no escaping their culinary reign of terror.
Finally, in my last minute rush leaving the house yesterday, I forgot to get directions to my apartment here. (I also forgot my toothbrush. No Mom and Pop, I was not kidding about that.) Using the magic of a Blackberry, I got very rough directions to my neighborhood here. However, after getting off the bus at Hans Knudsens Plads, all Google told me to do was 'Arrive at Engelstedsgade 51'. Helpful.
I tried asking some off duty bus drivers for directions, but they had no idea, so I ended up asking some clearly local older gentlemen in the park. They were all originally from Russia, and spoke surprisingly wonderful English. They were also quick to offer me a heavily chewed cigar and a swig from their bottle of vodka, even though it was only 12:30 pm. I declined.
Not only did one of them walk me to my apartment and insist on taking one of my 50 lb bags, but I now have the sworn protection of the local Russian posse. There are definitely worse welcomes that one could have.
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| A gratuitous picture of Archie. |
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