So, I didn't get smacked in the head by the angry Latvian. I managed to survive the flight unscathed and as we landed in Riga, I started to get genuinely excited to be there. I like going to the last outpost-type places that everyone says "Where the fuck is that and why are you going there?" when you tell them about it. On my original Europe trip, it was Montenegro. This time, Russia-lite. And as soon as I stepped outside, I had my first taste of Russified Europe. The airport had a huge sign above the door in cyrillic, which I obviously couldn't read. And it was about -13. I wasn't at home anymore, that's for damn sure.
I took the airport shuttle into town and got off at the designated stop, a hotel. Even though I had directions AND A compass, I still got hopelessly lost trying to find my own hotel. I just wandered around in the snow with my bags, going in circles and getting completely disoriented, until I finally just went into the hotel where I got dropped off and asked where my hotel was. The guy walked me outside...and pointed up the street. Oh. There it was. Dammit. I fucking hate my broken sense of direction.
The hotel I asked for directions in was right on the very edge of the old town, and my hotel was inside it. After a few steps, the concrete road turned into what was to become my new nemesis: cobblestone. People, if you've never had the opportunity to walk on cobblestone, be happy. It's fucking shit, and I hope whomever designed it was forced to spend eternity endlessly walking around on cobblestone in the snow until he broke both his legs and died of thirst. Yes, I hate it that much. It's insanely slippery when it's wet or covered in snow, and Riga's old town had a whole lot of wet snow.
I made it exactly 11 paces before I slipped and fell.
The first time. Not even close to the last.
I managed to make it to my hotel by pretending I was walking on ice, and just skidded my way there. It was worth it though - my hotel was pretty fuckin nice. I had a HUGE hotel room with a big flatscreen TV, gigantic bed, and stocked minibar. For the princely sum of 48 dollars Canadian. I like. After dropping my stuff off and having a shower, I was hyped to go exploring. First thing's first though...I had to put 3 socks on one foot because of the hole in the bottom of my shoe. It was kinda wet outside.
The old town is really nice, despite the cobblestone. All the streets are really narrow, with tons of small businesses and hotels covering the majority of the place. There were sidewalks, but they were usually covered with a foot of snow so everyone walked on the street, and just stepped to the side when a car went by. The snowblowers were constantly keeping the streets snow-free, but it was totally at the expense of the people that lived along these roads. Everyone's door had like 2 feet of snow in front of it. It was pretty amusing to see people open their door and flip out, even though I was told that it happens every day. They still flip out every day, like they're gonna wake up and it's magically gonna be different that morning. It's the Soviet way.
For those that keep wondering about the Russian/Soviet comparisons, I'll take a short couple of paragraphs to explain some history. Latvia was a part of the Soviet Union until it broke up in the early 90's, and is still very Russian. The 3 Baltic states (Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia) were the most progressive remnants of the broken empire and created ties with the West almost immediately. So much so that they're all members of the EU less than 20 years later.
Once you go there though, you realize that it takes more than a democracy and a Westernized economy to truly adapt into a Western society. They're stuck with a Western/Russian hybrid culture, which is bewildering and amusing at the same time. It has all the modern feel of a first world country, but it's completely lacking in the finer points of first world culture. Like customer service. And happiness. And sobriety. The entire place seems like a gigantic contradiction. But it sure made things interesting.
Anyway, I spent a few hours just walking/sliding around. The old town is small, but it's like a huge maze, with small streets and alleys going in every which direction. And there would invariably be some cool church or building down a dead-end street to check out, so you'd have to backtrack to continue on your way. I loved it, because it was unlike any place I had ever been before. I've been in a few different old walled cities like this in other parts of Europe, but none felt like that. It was awesome.
The funniest moment was some chick dressed to the nines in fur walking by me and not even trying to hide how revolting she thought my taste in clothing was. She gave me the full head-to-toe stare and offered up her best look of disgust as she walked by. Which made me laugh. I know I'm hardly a fashion model, but the fact that she did nothing to hide her distaste was so typical of everything I've heard about Russian women, I couldn't help myself. My laughter made her even more disgusted, which made me laugh even more. I could take a dump on your living room carpet and you wouldn't be able to match the hatred in this chick's eyes. She wanted me, I know it.
Anyway, after a while my biggest problem was that all the snow was getting wedged in the hole in my shoe and made walking pretty uncomfortable. So I decided to grab some lunch and chill in my killer hotel room for a bit. And watch some strange TV. There were only 7 channels in Riga. Eurosport, CNN, and 5 that were either Latvian or Russian (I can't tell the difference). The best one, by far, was the music channel.
I was mesmerized by some Russian girl group...the music was horrible, but the girls were fucking gorgeous. Unfortunately, I couldn't write down the name of the group...because all the descriptions were in cyrillic. Other than a brief experience with it in Montenegro, I had never dealt with another alphabet before. So I spent the next hour watching some crazy, and I do mean CRAZY, Russian/Latvian music videos, and not knowing who any of them were. Except one. DJ Smash.
For some reason, his name was written in the Roman alphabet. And I'm glad it was, because this music video might have been the weirdest/funniest/awesomest/saddest thing I've ever seen. Here, see for yourself. It's nutso. It looks normal until he runs into the ocean about 30 seconds in. Then shit goes sideways. Keep a lookout for the guy in the cat suit singing. And playing the drums. Yeah.
After all that insanity, I headed back out to grab some food. I walked out of my hotel, turned left, and saw a Guinness sign. Sweet. The pub was precisely 21 paces from my hotel door. I sat down in a booth, and was promptly ignored for 10 minutes, despite being right next to the bar and the waitress station. I got up and stood at the bar...and still got ignored. I said "excuse me" to the bartender girl, and she sighed like I had done her the biggest injustice in the world by talking to her. And yelled DA? (yes?) at me. Uh, okay. I asked for a pint, and waited. And waited. Finally, she got around to pulling me a pint, and made it very apparent that I was horribly inconveniencing her by having the gall to ask her to do her job. She wasn't even hot, which made it worse. Obviously this was a one-pint-and-go pub. Eff this bitch.
Luckily, my fortunes changed a few minutes later. A really short but really cute chick walked in and went straight to the waitress station. Then straight to me. This was my new waitress, who's shift had just started, and she was super nice. Spoke really good English, chatted with me about a few different things, and actually acted like she enjoyed her job. I changed my mind quickly, and one-pint-and-go turned into most of an afternoon and an undisclosed number of pints (because I forget the number). I do know that fish n chips and many pints worked out to about 18 bucks Canadian. And the waitress girl said this was probably the most expensive pub in the Old Town. She told me about a bar a few minutes away that was less than half the price of this one. God damn, Latvia's cheap!
My inebriation was telling me that it was a perfect time to go sightseeing. Logic was telling me that it was 6pm and pretty close to dark, but inebriation always trumps logic, so I went looking around some more. I took a bunch of pictures and stuff (in the dark - ???), and just enjoyed sliding around, until I made my way back towards my hotel...and the pub. I had burned off most of my buzz and didn't really have anything else to do since it was dark now, so...I had a few more pints and watched a soccer game. Hey, at least I'm predictable. At around 8:30pm, I was completely done. It had been a long day, so I headed back to the hotel for the night. If it were only that easy.
I had managed to slide around town all day without falling, other than that one time when I first got there. But now it was dark, with no streetlights, and my coordination completely failed me. I walked out, took 3 steps, and slipped and fell on my ass. That wasn't pleasant, because my ass was now soaking wet. I got up, brushed myself off, and skidded another 3 steps or so...then BLAM. Slid right into a stone sticking up, fell straight forward, and sprawled out on the street. I wasn't even past the front window of the pub yet, and I had fallen twice. So now the front of me was all muddy and wet too. I got up again, and looked in the pub window...at the cute waitress, who was staring right back at me with a big look of pity and amusement. Greeeeat. Stupid cobblestone.
I managed to make it back to the hotel unscathed after that, despite one more slip where I almost went down but didn't. Once again, I'd like to point out that than my pub-to-hotel journey was short. It would take you longer to walk to the bathroom and back from where you're sitting and reading this right now. And if you fell down twice on your little trip, you'd get some odd looks. Probably like the one I got from the concierge when I walked into the hotel, dirty and wet. No one said I was elegant or classy, okay?
After all that excitement, I had another shower and laid down in my huge bed to watch some more crazy Russian TV. And the next thing I knew, it was 5am. I must have fallen asleep like 11 seconds after I laid down, and slept for a full 8 hours. That was nuts. I tried to go back to sleep, so I could wake up at a normal time, but noooo...I was wide awake. The music video station wasn't on, so I watched CNN and played on the internet for a while.
Once it started to get light out again, I went for another long ass walk, out of the old town to get some perspective on the city. I walked across a bridge that went over a huge, completely frozen river. There was a walking path the whole 400m or so across the thing. Right beside a bridge. Why the fuck would you walk across a river when there's a BRIDGE right beside you? Weird. The further I ventured out of the Old Town, the more bleak the surroundings became. They certainly weren't stick huts or anything, but there were a lot of places in a pretty bad state of disrepair. It was actually kind of depressing, but it's a fact of life in the post-Soviet Russian states everywhere I guess.
After heading back, I had plenty of time to gather up my stuff and walk up to where the shuttle left for the airport, but it wasn't that much more expensive to take a cab, so I decided to do that. The concierge called one for me, and I waited for about 5 minutes before a car showed up...that didn't look like a taxi. But, a ride's a ride, so I got in. As soon as we started to move, I regretted my decision immediately. The driver, who spoke no English, had a big, open bottle of vodka sitting in his lap. Greeeeat. Could anything be more stereotypically Russian than that? He took a few swigs during the trip, and drove really fucking fast, but we managed to make it there alive. Crisis averted. After security, I headed directly to the bar to get a nerve-calming beer, then headed off to a place I wasn't actually all that excited about seeing (at the time) - Berlin.
Overall, Riga was pretty awesome. Like I said, the culture is so fractured that it's tough to explain with a keyboard. I came across some really hardened, angry people, yet I met just as many who were kind and compassionate. Latvia was the fastest-developing country in Europe until last year, but the adjustment period has been so short that some people just can't keep up. The old guard is fiercely Russian, while the younger generations want to leave that all behind and fully embrace western society. In 10 or 20 years it will be a completely different place, so I'm glad I got to go now, because Latvia's position is truly unique in the world right now. And the women were hot. Angry, but hot.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Europe Trip, Part 1 - Stockholm
This will become clear quite quickly, but I wrote this shortly after boarding my flight in Oslo to come home (via Iceland).
Let's get this sumbitch started. After two of the most expensive pints in the world in the Oslo airport (14.50 or so) I'm in a writing mood. Yes, that wasn't a typo. 14.50 Canadian. Each. Oslo's all sorts of cool, but it really is the most expensive city in the world. It's not even a race. They're leading by 26 lengths. Price-wise, Norway is Usain Bolt, the rest of the world is white people. When people in Denmark say "You're going to Oslo? It's expensive there!", you know you're gonna be in some trouble. Okay, I think you get it. But that was the end of my trip. Let's go back, back through time...back to the beginning...
I've had to tell this story probably 60 times in the last few months, but I'll tell it again. We've all known the Olympics were coming for a long time. I have nothing against the Olympics at all, they're usually pretty cool. My issue was that I had to try and go about my regular life in a city that was going to have an extra 300,000 people in it for 2 weeks. That didn't sound appealing at all, considering Vancouver's infrastructure can't handle it's current population, much less a whole shitload of new people. So I asked my boss for the 2 weeks off, so I could fuck off to colder pastures. By this, I mean Northern Europe.
I had zero doubts at all that this was the right decision, even as I boarded my flight to Seattle to get the trip underway. I was going on the trip of a lifetime to your regular joe. To me, it's a little less than that because I've been on a few of these already, but it was still pretty fucking cool. After Seattle for a night, I was hitting a shitload of places in 17 days - Stockholm, Riga, Berlin, Budapest, Amsterdam, Brussels, Leeds, Copenhagen, and Oslo. Your average person probably wouldn't enjoy 13 flights in 18 days, but I'm not a normal person. I think you've realized this by now.
***tangent***
It's really hard to concentrate on writing this out when supermodels keep walking by me. I'm on a flight from Norway to Iceland, two of the countries with the highest hot-woman-per-capita ratios in the world. Every time I get halfway through a paragraph, I look up and get mesmerized by the new love of my life, and forget what the hell I was writing about. Then she's gone, and I have to re-focus. For about 45 seconds, until it happens all over again.
In case this wasn't clear, I LOVE SCANDINAVIA.
***tangent over***
And we're back. So, it was game time. My boss drove me to the airport 3.5 hours early (after a stop for a Coors Light tall can, he's cool like that), expecting the airport to be a zoo. Maybe arrivals was, but departures? Not so much. They completely re-did the American departures area, and it's fucking insane now. I had my passport checked ELEVEN times between checking in and getting through security. Unreal. I also got to be one of the guinea pigs on those huge scan-your-bones machines. The lady give me a little smile afterwards, so I think she liked what she saw. Heeeeey.
I'll condense the rest of it. Airport bar. 9.42 beer. Eek, pricey. Canucks game on PPV, but Justin TV saves the day. Tables around me all want to know how I'm watching the game on my computer. I inform them. They love me. A beer is bought for me, for which I'm thankful. Easy flight. My hotel room still has the last person's garbage and breakfast in it, which is a little weird. Oh well. 7/11, Fat Tire, Jack in the Box, happy camper.
Got to the Seattle airport early the next day, had a couple of beers and lunch. The book store had a copy of Blood in the Cage, which entertained me for most of my flight to Iceland. I had a row to myself on both legs of my flight (10 hours total), which was so awesome. Go through the usual Icelandic overkill (re-screened at security, talk to a few pointless people, etc). Customs guy was cool:
"Where are you going?"
"Stockholm"
"I hear they have pretty girls there"
"You have pretty girls here too"
"You've been here before? *flips through passport* "Ahh, you have! Swedish girls are more pretty though"
"If they're better than here, this will be a great trip"
"It WILL be a great trip! Enjoy Europe!"
Why can't customs guys at home be that nice?
So, onto Stockholm. Land, get my bag, and...go to the train. No one even checked my passport. Once you're in the EU boundaries (Iceland isn't a member yet, but is a part of the travel treaty that handles "border crossings"), no one checks your passport anymore. It's a very odd feeling, just breezing through airports like that. The best thing was that as soon as I got off the plane and into the terminal, before I've even seen a person yet, I see a TV...with hockey on it. I already loved Sweden at that point.
The hot girl distractions kicked in as soon as I got down to the airport train. I was standing right beside a train, but thought it was on the wrong track. I just stood there, watching blonde after blonde walk by me...onto the train...not realizing I should have done the same. About 20 seconds after it left, I looked up at the screen...yup, that was going into the city. Nicely done, Tim. 20 minutes later, the next one showed up and I headed into the city.
My hotel was 4 or so blocks from the train station, and it was the most awesome 4 block walk of my life. It's simply astounding how many hot women were walking past me. They were with all guys though, which didn't really make much sense to me until later. I just assumed if they're all hot, they all have boyfriends. As I turn down the pedestrian walkway towards my hotel, a group of girls were standing on the street offering free hugs to everyone. I've seen this before, but these girls were hoooot. Not like the sea donkeys at Harvard offering to smother someone for free. This is me though, it's pretty obvious I was too intimidated to hug a random hot Swedish girl 5 minutes after getting to Stockholm. But I'd be back!
Get to the hotel, and my room is small, as expected. They get about 7 channels, and 3 are showing the Olympics. I was starving, so I went looking for food straight out of the gate. More wandering, more girls, more happy. End up at, of all places, a restaurant/bar called Texas Burgers. Eff off, I immerse myself into new cultures slowly. The food was pricey, maybe 25 bucks for a beer and a beer, but nothing too outrageous. It was on the 3rd level of a mini-mall, so I just sat against the railing and people-watched. It was then that I FINALLY clued into why every girl was out with a guy.
It was valentines day. Duh.
I had a couple more pints at the bar there, and headed back to the hotel for a nap (I had been awake for 24 hours or so at this point). I was buzzing, so the walk back was even more entertaining. It was probably -3, but I didn't feel a thing. I went around the corner to go back to my hotel, and literally bumped into one of the free hug girls. She was looking in the other direction, and we did a pretty good job of startling each other. I was halfway though an apology when she just decided to hug me. Uh, okay. That ruled. I hugged her back, while the one of the other huggers asked where I was from. I told her, and she wanted to hug me too. Sure, cool. After that, I just walked around and hugged the other 4 too. None of them said anything, but it amused me, so I just continued till I was out of huggers. And then realized that was probably a little weird, especially since no one was saying anything. So I just took off, a little embarrassed. No, I'm not exactly a stallion, but we all already knew this.
So, back to the hotel. There was no hope for non-pub beer, since Sweden has strict regulations when it comes to selling alky. Sort of like BC's liquor stores, but no beer stores to supplement that. And they're closed on Sunday. And some of them only sell wine...
Aaaand another hot girl just walked by. Who would have thought a plane would be a bad place to write? What's the world coming to?
Anyway, I ended up doing the one thing I didn't want to do - I fell asleep. For 8 hours. Oops. I had neglected to buy any food in the mean time, so I woke up at 1am on a Sunday night, hungry. Not a good thing. I was in the busiest part of the city though, so something had to be open, right?
Nyet. I walked around forever. Found four 7/11's, all closed. Restaurants, bars...all shut. Finally, FINALLY I found a McDonald's that was open. I walked in, and it was like the music stopped. Everyone in the place turned and stared at me. As I discovered, it's the only place open, so every misfit in Stockholm with nothing else to do at that time of night hung out here. It was quite the crowd. If I thought I was an outsider on the streets...in this place, I was like an asian dude at a country bar. A little weird.
I walked up and ordered my food and got out of there PRONTO. Turns out 2 McChickens are 12 bucks in Stockholm. Great, insult to injury. Thanks, you bastards.
After going back to the hotel and wolfing those down, I...fell back asleep. For another 8 hours. What the hell?
Oh well, at least I was on a regular schedule now (or so I thought). The next day was all about being a dorky tourist. I walked around everywhere, took dorky pictures of architecture, and creepily stared at women. Even the guidebook says that's what you're supposed to do in Stockholm, so it was okay. Stockholm is an archipelago. It basically means the city is on a shitload of islands. It's cool in theory, but islands were bigger than I thought, as was the distance between them, so exploring wasn't easy.
After walking around forever, I had a couple of drinks in a couple of pubs, but nothing really all that inviting. Add a major dose of freezing temperatures to that, and...yeah, I was kinda lame. I scheduled a rest day anyway, so this was it. Went to the systembolaget (liquor store), bought a bunch of different stuff, and chilled at the hotel. I didn't need a fridge in my room to keep the beer cold...I just left them on the windowsill with the window open. I'm versatile like that.
The problem with that was...I fell asleep at 5pm again. Dammit. One good thing did come out of it though, because I woke up at 2am and was able to catch the Canada/Norway game. After that ended, I...slept again. Jetlag's a whore, apparently.
For my last day in Stockholm, I was determined to check out some of the bigger islands that I hadn't got around to yet. They were kinda far away, but I could handle that. I have a strict no public transportation rule when I travel. If I can walk there, I walk there. So, I set out to discover some new islands. I got to the "furthest" one, and walked all around it. It was pretty fucking nice, and there weren't many people there so it was pretty peaceful. There were 2 problems with this though:
1. I stepped on a huge pointy rock and tore a hole in the sole of my shoe. On the 3rd day of my fucking trip. And it was snowy and wet everywhere, so my foot was soaked;
2. I wasn't on the island I intended to go to.
After walking all the way around it and checking out some cool shit, it turns out I wasn't looking at the shit I thought I was. It was all pretty nice, but I felt like a pretty big dumbass when I got around to the other side and saw...my intended destination, another km or so away. Dammit. I'd already walked like 7km, and my foot was fucked, so I bailed and headed back. Laaaame, I know.
I tried a couple other pubs, but there just wasn't a lot goin on. Stockholm is a lot more conservative than I thought it was. And, for all my searching, I couldn't find a store that sold hockey jerseys. AND, I didn't make it to the Eriksson Globe,
because I'm a jackass and didn't want to take the metro.
Overall, Stockholm was really nice and the women are unreal, but it was kinda boring. I found Swedes to be nice people, but not super approachable. They just kind of do their own thing and they come across as kinda serious. And the women intimidated the bejesus outta me. So, I didn't exactly start the trip with a bang. Oooh double entendre!
As sometimes happens with my trips, my favorite part of Sweden actually occurred at the airport when I was leaving. I got there at 6am, and...there was a pub open. A Boston-themed pub, for some odd reason. And there were a few people in there drinking already. Well, I didn't want them to be lonely, so I joined them. The bartender girl was one of the few non-blondes I had seen, but she was stunning. After she ID'd me, she asked me a few questions about Canada (like the usual "Why aren't you at the Olympics?") and I chatted with her for a bit, which half-paying attention to the Russia/Latvia game. This becomes important in a bit.
Eventually, an older Swedish guy sits down beside me and starts talking to me in Swedish. Uhhh...oorky boorky Timmy no speaky. His English sucked, but he was happy to switch to that. He was on his way to the Canary Islands, and we bullshitted until he asked where I was from. Canada, Vancouver, Olympics...blah blah, same line of questioning. But this guy was funny. He called over his entire family, who were waiting at the gate across from us, to "meet the Vancouver guy". So about 12 people come over and I have to introduce myself and get inundated by questions. The hot bartender even gave us free beers, which was very cool. Everything was going fine, until...
"AAAY! *unintelligible nonsense* AAAAAY Rushhhhhin!"
I didn't pay any attention at first, until the bartender said "I think he's talking to you." Before I could even turn around to figure out what was going on, a hand slapped my back. Hard.
"AAAY! Ruuuuhhhh" That was all I understood, but a lot more was said. In a language I didn't understand. This dude was standing behind me, tugging on my jersey. I finally turned around, and this guy isn't sober. I tried to talk to him, but he just interrupted with more babbling. I told him I didn't understand. He started tugging on the front of my jersey this time, and started pointing at the TV. The bartender said "I don't think he likes your shirt". Then another guy comes running over from across the gate towards us both. He got there quickly and tackled his buddy, and explained the situation while holding onto him:
Latvia was playing Russia on TV, and I was wearing...an Alexander Ovechkin jersey. Oops. This guy was clearly unhappy with this, since AO had just scored and it was 3-1 Russia. And he was drunk. And LATVIAN. Like a dumbass, I did just about the worst thing I could have done when the light bulb came on and I figured it out - I started laughing.
Bad idea Tim.
Drunk guy starts SCREAMING now and trying to tear himself away from his friend so he could destroy me. It didn't take me long to stop laughing and to start explaining that I was Canadian. NOT Russian. His friend apologized profusely, while I chose to just stand there, dumbfounded by the whole thing. I showed him my passport to verify my nationality, which probably made no sense to him because there's no maple leaf on it and it's obvious that he can't read English. Finally, his buddy managed to drag him away, still mumbling.
The whole Swedish family stood right there and watched the whole thing, and they all just looked at each other, as confused/amused as I was. It all happened in a matter of 20 seconds or so, but it definitely woke me up. Who needs red bulls when drunk Latvian dudes want to kick your ass at 6:30am for no reason!
I went back to my beer and the Swedish family, and the drunk guys friend came over and offered to buy me a beer, but I told him it was no big deal. "I have a flight to catch anyway", I told him. The bartender chicky says "Where did you say you were flying?" "Riga, why?" A couple of silent seconds tick by. Then...DING. New light bulb. I have to get on the same flight as this fucking dude! How I had ignored that tiny fact up till then is beyond me. Two seconds after that, while I'm absorbing all of this and everyone is quiet, the TV starts blaring. Russia scores! Fuck, that's some timing right there! Everyone just started laughing when that happened, but I didn't. I looked right at drunk guy, and he looked right at me. With hate in his heart. Uh oh. I don't think I've ever put on my hoody faster in my entire life.
After saying my goodbyes to everyone at the bar, I slinked my way over to the gate and sat as far away from drunk guy as I could. Occasionally I glanced over at him, and he was staring at me. Every. Single. Time. Creeeeepy.
Luckily for me, his friend got him on board quickly and they were sitting at the back of the plane, so I didn't come in contact with him again. I sat there for an hour on the plane though, waiting to get slapped in the back of the head or something. Kinda jumpy. I looked back down the aisle once, and there he was, leaning into the aisle, staring at me. What the fuck! This was my introduction to Latvia? Really? What the hell was I getting myself into?
Find out when I get around to writing part 2.
Let's get this sumbitch started. After two of the most expensive pints in the world in the Oslo airport (14.50 or so) I'm in a writing mood. Yes, that wasn't a typo. 14.50 Canadian. Each. Oslo's all sorts of cool, but it really is the most expensive city in the world. It's not even a race. They're leading by 26 lengths. Price-wise, Norway is Usain Bolt, the rest of the world is white people. When people in Denmark say "You're going to Oslo? It's expensive there!", you know you're gonna be in some trouble. Okay, I think you get it. But that was the end of my trip. Let's go back, back through time...back to the beginning...
I've had to tell this story probably 60 times in the last few months, but I'll tell it again. We've all known the Olympics were coming for a long time. I have nothing against the Olympics at all, they're usually pretty cool. My issue was that I had to try and go about my regular life in a city that was going to have an extra 300,000 people in it for 2 weeks. That didn't sound appealing at all, considering Vancouver's infrastructure can't handle it's current population, much less a whole shitload of new people. So I asked my boss for the 2 weeks off, so I could fuck off to colder pastures. By this, I mean Northern Europe.
I had zero doubts at all that this was the right decision, even as I boarded my flight to Seattle to get the trip underway. I was going on the trip of a lifetime to your regular joe. To me, it's a little less than that because I've been on a few of these already, but it was still pretty fucking cool. After Seattle for a night, I was hitting a shitload of places in 17 days - Stockholm, Riga, Berlin, Budapest, Amsterdam, Brussels, Leeds, Copenhagen, and Oslo. Your average person probably wouldn't enjoy 13 flights in 18 days, but I'm not a normal person. I think you've realized this by now.
***tangent***
It's really hard to concentrate on writing this out when supermodels keep walking by me. I'm on a flight from Norway to Iceland, two of the countries with the highest hot-woman-per-capita ratios in the world. Every time I get halfway through a paragraph, I look up and get mesmerized by the new love of my life, and forget what the hell I was writing about. Then she's gone, and I have to re-focus. For about 45 seconds, until it happens all over again.
In case this wasn't clear, I LOVE SCANDINAVIA.
***tangent over***
And we're back. So, it was game time. My boss drove me to the airport 3.5 hours early (after a stop for a Coors Light tall can, he's cool like that), expecting the airport to be a zoo. Maybe arrivals was, but departures? Not so much. They completely re-did the American departures area, and it's fucking insane now. I had my passport checked ELEVEN times between checking in and getting through security. Unreal. I also got to be one of the guinea pigs on those huge scan-your-bones machines. The lady give me a little smile afterwards, so I think she liked what she saw. Heeeeey.
I'll condense the rest of it. Airport bar. 9.42 beer. Eek, pricey. Canucks game on PPV, but Justin TV saves the day. Tables around me all want to know how I'm watching the game on my computer. I inform them. They love me. A beer is bought for me, for which I'm thankful. Easy flight. My hotel room still has the last person's garbage and breakfast in it, which is a little weird. Oh well. 7/11, Fat Tire, Jack in the Box, happy camper.
Got to the Seattle airport early the next day, had a couple of beers and lunch. The book store had a copy of Blood in the Cage, which entertained me for most of my flight to Iceland. I had a row to myself on both legs of my flight (10 hours total), which was so awesome. Go through the usual Icelandic overkill (re-screened at security, talk to a few pointless people, etc). Customs guy was cool:
"Where are you going?"
"Stockholm"
"I hear they have pretty girls there"
"You have pretty girls here too"
"You've been here before? *flips through passport* "Ahh, you have! Swedish girls are more pretty though"
"If they're better than here, this will be a great trip"
"It WILL be a great trip! Enjoy Europe!"
Why can't customs guys at home be that nice?
So, onto Stockholm. Land, get my bag, and...go to the train. No one even checked my passport. Once you're in the EU boundaries (Iceland isn't a member yet, but is a part of the travel treaty that handles "border crossings"), no one checks your passport anymore. It's a very odd feeling, just breezing through airports like that. The best thing was that as soon as I got off the plane and into the terminal, before I've even seen a person yet, I see a TV...with hockey on it. I already loved Sweden at that point.
The hot girl distractions kicked in as soon as I got down to the airport train. I was standing right beside a train, but thought it was on the wrong track. I just stood there, watching blonde after blonde walk by me...onto the train...not realizing I should have done the same. About 20 seconds after it left, I looked up at the screen...yup, that was going into the city. Nicely done, Tim. 20 minutes later, the next one showed up and I headed into the city.
My hotel was 4 or so blocks from the train station, and it was the most awesome 4 block walk of my life. It's simply astounding how many hot women were walking past me. They were with all guys though, which didn't really make much sense to me until later. I just assumed if they're all hot, they all have boyfriends. As I turn down the pedestrian walkway towards my hotel, a group of girls were standing on the street offering free hugs to everyone. I've seen this before, but these girls were hoooot. Not like the sea donkeys at Harvard offering to smother someone for free. This is me though, it's pretty obvious I was too intimidated to hug a random hot Swedish girl 5 minutes after getting to Stockholm. But I'd be back!
Get to the hotel, and my room is small, as expected. They get about 7 channels, and 3 are showing the Olympics. I was starving, so I went looking for food straight out of the gate. More wandering, more girls, more happy. End up at, of all places, a restaurant/bar called Texas Burgers. Eff off, I immerse myself into new cultures slowly. The food was pricey, maybe 25 bucks for a beer and a beer, but nothing too outrageous. It was on the 3rd level of a mini-mall, so I just sat against the railing and people-watched. It was then that I FINALLY clued into why every girl was out with a guy.
It was valentines day. Duh.
I had a couple more pints at the bar there, and headed back to the hotel for a nap (I had been awake for 24 hours or so at this point). I was buzzing, so the walk back was even more entertaining. It was probably -3, but I didn't feel a thing. I went around the corner to go back to my hotel, and literally bumped into one of the free hug girls. She was looking in the other direction, and we did a pretty good job of startling each other. I was halfway though an apology when she just decided to hug me. Uh, okay. That ruled. I hugged her back, while the one of the other huggers asked where I was from. I told her, and she wanted to hug me too. Sure, cool. After that, I just walked around and hugged the other 4 too. None of them said anything, but it amused me, so I just continued till I was out of huggers. And then realized that was probably a little weird, especially since no one was saying anything. So I just took off, a little embarrassed. No, I'm not exactly a stallion, but we all already knew this.
So, back to the hotel. There was no hope for non-pub beer, since Sweden has strict regulations when it comes to selling alky. Sort of like BC's liquor stores, but no beer stores to supplement that. And they're closed on Sunday. And some of them only sell wine...
Aaaand another hot girl just walked by. Who would have thought a plane would be a bad place to write? What's the world coming to?
Anyway, I ended up doing the one thing I didn't want to do - I fell asleep. For 8 hours. Oops. I had neglected to buy any food in the mean time, so I woke up at 1am on a Sunday night, hungry. Not a good thing. I was in the busiest part of the city though, so something had to be open, right?
Nyet. I walked around forever. Found four 7/11's, all closed. Restaurants, bars...all shut. Finally, FINALLY I found a McDonald's that was open. I walked in, and it was like the music stopped. Everyone in the place turned and stared at me. As I discovered, it's the only place open, so every misfit in Stockholm with nothing else to do at that time of night hung out here. It was quite the crowd. If I thought I was an outsider on the streets...in this place, I was like an asian dude at a country bar. A little weird.
I walked up and ordered my food and got out of there PRONTO. Turns out 2 McChickens are 12 bucks in Stockholm. Great, insult to injury. Thanks, you bastards.
After going back to the hotel and wolfing those down, I...fell back asleep. For another 8 hours. What the hell?
Oh well, at least I was on a regular schedule now (or so I thought). The next day was all about being a dorky tourist. I walked around everywhere, took dorky pictures of architecture, and creepily stared at women. Even the guidebook says that's what you're supposed to do in Stockholm, so it was okay. Stockholm is an archipelago. It basically means the city is on a shitload of islands. It's cool in theory, but islands were bigger than I thought, as was the distance between them, so exploring wasn't easy.
After walking around forever, I had a couple of drinks in a couple of pubs, but nothing really all that inviting. Add a major dose of freezing temperatures to that, and...yeah, I was kinda lame. I scheduled a rest day anyway, so this was it. Went to the systembolaget (liquor store), bought a bunch of different stuff, and chilled at the hotel. I didn't need a fridge in my room to keep the beer cold...I just left them on the windowsill with the window open. I'm versatile like that.
The problem with that was...I fell asleep at 5pm again. Dammit. One good thing did come out of it though, because I woke up at 2am and was able to catch the Canada/Norway game. After that ended, I...slept again. Jetlag's a whore, apparently.
For my last day in Stockholm, I was determined to check out some of the bigger islands that I hadn't got around to yet. They were kinda far away, but I could handle that. I have a strict no public transportation rule when I travel. If I can walk there, I walk there. So, I set out to discover some new islands. I got to the "furthest" one, and walked all around it. It was pretty fucking nice, and there weren't many people there so it was pretty peaceful. There were 2 problems with this though:
1. I stepped on a huge pointy rock and tore a hole in the sole of my shoe. On the 3rd day of my fucking trip. And it was snowy and wet everywhere, so my foot was soaked;
2. I wasn't on the island I intended to go to.
After walking all the way around it and checking out some cool shit, it turns out I wasn't looking at the shit I thought I was. It was all pretty nice, but I felt like a pretty big dumbass when I got around to the other side and saw...my intended destination, another km or so away. Dammit. I'd already walked like 7km, and my foot was fucked, so I bailed and headed back. Laaaame, I know.
I tried a couple other pubs, but there just wasn't a lot goin on. Stockholm is a lot more conservative than I thought it was. And, for all my searching, I couldn't find a store that sold hockey jerseys. AND, I didn't make it to the Eriksson Globe,
because I'm a jackass and didn't want to take the metro.
Overall, Stockholm was really nice and the women are unreal, but it was kinda boring. I found Swedes to be nice people, but not super approachable. They just kind of do their own thing and they come across as kinda serious. And the women intimidated the bejesus outta me. So, I didn't exactly start the trip with a bang. Oooh double entendre!
As sometimes happens with my trips, my favorite part of Sweden actually occurred at the airport when I was leaving. I got there at 6am, and...there was a pub open. A Boston-themed pub, for some odd reason. And there were a few people in there drinking already. Well, I didn't want them to be lonely, so I joined them. The bartender girl was one of the few non-blondes I had seen, but she was stunning. After she ID'd me, she asked me a few questions about Canada (like the usual "Why aren't you at the Olympics?") and I chatted with her for a bit, which half-paying attention to the Russia/Latvia game. This becomes important in a bit.
Eventually, an older Swedish guy sits down beside me and starts talking to me in Swedish. Uhhh...oorky boorky Timmy no speaky. His English sucked, but he was happy to switch to that. He was on his way to the Canary Islands, and we bullshitted until he asked where I was from. Canada, Vancouver, Olympics...blah blah, same line of questioning. But this guy was funny. He called over his entire family, who were waiting at the gate across from us, to "meet the Vancouver guy". So about 12 people come over and I have to introduce myself and get inundated by questions. The hot bartender even gave us free beers, which was very cool. Everything was going fine, until...
"AAAY! *unintelligible nonsense* AAAAAY Rushhhhhin!"
I didn't pay any attention at first, until the bartender said "I think he's talking to you." Before I could even turn around to figure out what was going on, a hand slapped my back. Hard.
"AAAY! Ruuuuhhhh" That was all I understood, but a lot more was said. In a language I didn't understand. This dude was standing behind me, tugging on my jersey. I finally turned around, and this guy isn't sober. I tried to talk to him, but he just interrupted with more babbling. I told him I didn't understand. He started tugging on the front of my jersey this time, and started pointing at the TV. The bartender said "I don't think he likes your shirt". Then another guy comes running over from across the gate towards us both. He got there quickly and tackled his buddy, and explained the situation while holding onto him:
Latvia was playing Russia on TV, and I was wearing...an Alexander Ovechkin jersey. Oops. This guy was clearly unhappy with this, since AO had just scored and it was 3-1 Russia. And he was drunk. And LATVIAN. Like a dumbass, I did just about the worst thing I could have done when the light bulb came on and I figured it out - I started laughing.
Bad idea Tim.
Drunk guy starts SCREAMING now and trying to tear himself away from his friend so he could destroy me. It didn't take me long to stop laughing and to start explaining that I was Canadian. NOT Russian. His friend apologized profusely, while I chose to just stand there, dumbfounded by the whole thing. I showed him my passport to verify my nationality, which probably made no sense to him because there's no maple leaf on it and it's obvious that he can't read English. Finally, his buddy managed to drag him away, still mumbling.
The whole Swedish family stood right there and watched the whole thing, and they all just looked at each other, as confused/amused as I was. It all happened in a matter of 20 seconds or so, but it definitely woke me up. Who needs red bulls when drunk Latvian dudes want to kick your ass at 6:30am for no reason!
I went back to my beer and the Swedish family, and the drunk guys friend came over and offered to buy me a beer, but I told him it was no big deal. "I have a flight to catch anyway", I told him. The bartender chicky says "Where did you say you were flying?" "Riga, why?" A couple of silent seconds tick by. Then...DING. New light bulb. I have to get on the same flight as this fucking dude! How I had ignored that tiny fact up till then is beyond me. Two seconds after that, while I'm absorbing all of this and everyone is quiet, the TV starts blaring. Russia scores! Fuck, that's some timing right there! Everyone just started laughing when that happened, but I didn't. I looked right at drunk guy, and he looked right at me. With hate in his heart. Uh oh. I don't think I've ever put on my hoody faster in my entire life.
After saying my goodbyes to everyone at the bar, I slinked my way over to the gate and sat as far away from drunk guy as I could. Occasionally I glanced over at him, and he was staring at me. Every. Single. Time. Creeeeepy.
Luckily for me, his friend got him on board quickly and they were sitting at the back of the plane, so I didn't come in contact with him again. I sat there for an hour on the plane though, waiting to get slapped in the back of the head or something. Kinda jumpy. I looked back down the aisle once, and there he was, leaning into the aisle, staring at me. What the fuck! This was my introduction to Latvia? Really? What the hell was I getting myself into?
Find out when I get around to writing part 2.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)