I left Israel two weeks ago now and am just about to head off on my next "grand adventure", this time up to the frozen north where the polar bears roam and the icebergs are born. But I've been keeping myself busy with all sorts of things while waiting for my flight to leave and my imminent transformation into a human popsicle (I'm hoping I'll be lemon flavoured, but the odds say vanilla).
As you may guess, most of my time was spent buying clothes so I'll survive. Clothes I also need here in Sweden, since Lord Winter has completely taken over and holds the lands hostage under his white snow coat. Basically, it's really friggin' cold, which I didn't really approve of at first, but now I'm getting used to it. Considering I'm now the proud owner of a really thick down winter coat and some other great winter gear, I bloody well should be used to it (don't ya think).
But anyway, buying clothes isn't much of an adventure according to me (though women might be of a different opinion), so let's move onwards to last weekend.
Last Friday, I met up with a few childhood mates and we headed northwards to a very nice ski-area of the long weekend type (big enough for a long weekend, not quite for a week). I snapped the snowboard to my feet and at nine o' clock Saturday it was time for the first run in aprox. ten year... I spent that run mostly on my ass or my knees. The second run went much better and by the fourth one I felt pretty good; sure I was still staying in the easy slopes, but then I never was really good at this "going-down-a-slope-really-fast"-thing. I'm much more of a "let's-sit-down-and-enjoy-the-view-while-we-look-cool"-kinda runner. The absolutely best type according to me.
There was though a slight problem with the day: the weather. It was below -20, windy and in the afternoon it started to snow. All things that cramp my style in the slopes and cramp my body in general. Still the day was a blast! As was the next one, even though it was even colder.
This ends the action part of the weekend and we get to the adventures. However, it's not an adventure of the Hollywood kind, with swashbuckling heroes and damsels in distress, but rather of the "why can't stuff work"-kind. For it had been snowing a bloody lot around Stockholm, which for some reason meant that every friggin train heading in that general direction was either cancelled or massively delayed.
Bad news for me, but even worse for my bud who was supposed to go through Stockholm to get home in the south. With our train cancelled, we waited for the replacement bus - which never showed up. So we waited a bit longer... still no bus. Now my bud realized that he didn't have a snowballs chance in hell to make his connection, so he headed back to our other mate who'd set us up for the weekend. Hoping to catch a train in the morning instead. I staid on and staid strong (or rather, a bit frozen) and after three hours finally got the news that we'd be set up in a hotel overnight since the traincompany couldn't arrange a bus for us. Hence, I got the chance to eat a proper hotel-breakfast (bacon 'n' eggs is the yumms!) before heading back to the trainstation to catch my 7.52 train that left the station at 9.30.
But in the end, it turned out all good. Met up with my parents in Uppsala, only 14 hours later than planned and am now spending my last days in Sweden chilling, relaxing and trying to figure out what other stuff I might possibly need... so far I'm thinking more books.