Helsingbloggin' - Malmö

Tuesday, November 9th, 2010: Dental care by the seat of your pants in Malmö and Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 14:21:00 +0000

What I think:

I've been to the dentist a few times over the past couple of months. Apparently there are spaces between my gums and teeth in which bacteria are starting to form, which could cause me grief a bit later on in life; the grief being that I could be toothless if I'm not ultra-careful about keeping everything spotless in my gaping cake-hole.

I've learned a few tooth/dentist-related Swedish words during my time here, which I'd like to share with you now.

In Swedish (bear with me on this):

- Tooth is tand; a direct translation.

- Dentist is tandläkare, which is a compound word, consisting of tand (tooth) and läkare (doctor). So the direct translation of tandläkare is tooth doctor. So a dentist, in Swedish, is a tooth doctor. Cute, huh?

- Gums is my favourite inside-your-mouth word. In Swedish it's tandkött. Another compound word, this one consists of tand (tooth), as you've already learned, and kött (pronounced kind of like "should", but you replace the last consonant sound ["ld"] with a "t". This means meat or flesh.). So the direct translation of tandkött is tooth meat. So gums, in Swedish, are tooth meat. Isn't that adorable? Bless.

- Tartar may taste nice on fish, but apparently it's nasty on the teeth. In Swedish, it's known as tandsten, which translates to tooth stone, which, unless you're Keith Richard [Hi Keith!], is really not as glamorous as it sounds.

- "Open wide". "Gapa" is what a Swedish dentist (or a sadistic dental hygienist, apparently) says when he (or, more commonly, she) says when they can't quite reach the tooth containing the nerve that will cause you the most agonising (US/CAN: agonizing) misery. Interestingly - and etymologically - the English word "gape" (as in "my gaping cake-hole") comes directly from the Old Norse word "gapa", meaning "to open the mouth".

There you go. You learned something new today. Unless you're Swedish, in which case: Håll käften.

So anyway, my four - no five - visits to the sadistic Swedish dental hygienist cost me around 3,000 kronor (this is, at the time of writing, about £278.50 / US$446.20 / CAN$447.65 / €322.70 / 2,063,673 Zambian Kwacha).

I guess this isn't too bad, considering all the torture you get for your money, but since other healthcare is so greatly subsidised (US/CAN: subsidized) here, one would have thought it would be substantially less. Ah well...

And now for a not-so-smooth segue. I was on my way to one of my band's [CSI: Helsingborg's] notorious Pissed Rehearsals in Helsingborg a couple of weeks ago, umm, after having brushed my teeth.

When I got off the bus and headed for the platform, I noticed that just about all of the bicycles parked near the platform had these bright pink seat covers on them.

You see, over the past year or so (possibly longer; I'm not normally terribly observant), someone came up with the clever advertising (US/CAN: advertising - ha, gotcha) idea of printing up logos and/or messages on pre-made bike seat covers and putting them over as many bicycles as they could find.

This is actually quite ingenious, as many Swedish cyclists normally use plastic carrier bags as covers to keep their seats dry when the weather really sucks (which is usually about 342 days a year) and - regardless of the message of who's selling what - would probably appreciate having this little cycling accessory given to them free of charge.

[Unless, of course, it was provided by the Sverigedemokraterna (The Sweden Democrats), in which case 5.7% would hang it on their walls, about 54.3% would burn it, a few would actually use it, and the rest wouldn't be sure whether they should sit on it or not. Oh yeah, some would sell it on e-Bay.*]

But I'm into advertising, and not politics, so I thought I'd just check out which company was splashing out on this particular benevolent gesture. When I approached the nearest seat, here's what I saw:The Skåne region's "dental health" authority is advertising on these things. What?

(By the way, Skåne is the county or province (whatever) in the southwesternmost part of Sweden.)

The large writing (roughly translated) means "Your smile looked after.". The bit in the black speech balloon means "Healthy dental care - now for everyone!". The bit at the bottom is this website ->

Now, Malmö is not a huge city; certainly not by American, Canadian, British, Australian, French, Spanish, German, Irish, Italian, (... etc... for ages...) Peruvian, Turkish, Brazilian, or even Swedish standards, but there are a lot of cyclists here; that is if you look at bikes per capita, and the number of those who actually use them regularly.

I looked over at (one of) the main cycle park area(s), and just had to go halfway across the bridge to share this with you:That's a lot of dental care encouragement, wouldn't you say?

Then glancing back at the other (main) end of the station:

And there's a bit across the bridge over the canal:Amazing.

So. I caught the train to Helsingborg, and was walking to the Charles Dickens Pub to meet guitarist CSI: Nils for our usual pre-Pissed Rehearsal piss-up, and I realised that the tooth-care-advert fairies had hit Helsingborg as well (Helsingborg is also in Skåne):I hadn't left Helsingborg's train station through the bicycle parking area, but it looked as though a deed had definitely been done there too.

A couple more bits of evidence:

So, apparently, the dental care authority of Skåne had spent loads of money advertising the fact that people in the southwest of Sweden should visit their dentists, as if this was a radically new idea.

Oh, by the way, when I was in Paris last month, I was at this place and went out for a smoke, and there was some guy selling funky-flashy glasses. I had to try them on...I didn't buy any, and the guy selling was a bit annoyed, but this guy did...
... and the funky-flashy glasses sales guy was happy again. That's him to the left of the guy wearing (two pairs! Ha-ha! of ) the funky-flashy glasses.

Oh, how we laughed, etc.

Anyway, as I was saying, I wonder how much money was spent on producing and distributing those glasses - no, seat covers - in Skåne. Most Swedes that I've met are well aware of the existence of dentists, and most actually go through the ritual torture that that awareness entails; it's pretty much a part of being Swedish.

So why spend so much money on this silly campaign? Can't they use the money for the research and development of more efficient and painful torture devices? It's all very futile, it's ridiculous, it's costly, and it's time that the Swedish government did something about it. That's what I think.

[*Based on figures I made up, for the most part.]

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010: Top Toilet Tips: Pubs in Malmö - Part One: The Pickwick Pub

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 11:12:00 +0000

What I think:

A wise man once said: "Time flies like an arrow, and fruit flies like a banana."

With those words, and following the great success of my Top Toilet Tips for pubs in Helsingborg*, I start my first in the series of Top Toilets Tips for pubs in Malmö.

But first, I've got to show you something I saw on the platform at Malmö station yesterday:

The smoking area

Cool, huh?

OK, off we go to The Pickwick Pub...

Pickwick's is located on the corner of Malmborgsgatan and Stadt Hamburgsgatan. During the summer (which usually lasts for about eleven days here in Sweden), it's nice to sit outside with your beer, where you catch some cool northern rays and chain-smoke yourself to death.

It's the pub I go to most in Malmö, as the staff are friendly and attentive, and they're all English-speaking (there's a Swedish girl there, but her English is really good). OK, so that's not necessarily the best reason to go to a pub in Sweden, but the place does seem to attract a fair number of expats, which means that you can actually find people there drinking during the week - generally a big no-no in Swedish culture.

Apparently it's a good place to work as well; although the staff seem to be mostly in their 20's or 30's, they've all been working there since about 1948 [citation needed].

The interior is done up in a very English-pub-like way, with plenty of dark wood, knick-knacks, and upholstered seating. They've got a very good selection of ales, and some Czech and German lagers (I think they might have some Swedish shite as well, in case you have no sense of taste).

When you come in, there's seating directly in front of you, with the bar on the left. There are actually two entrance doors, but I'm referring to the main one on the corner, as the other one is closed for all but the eleven days of summer in Sweden.

Look left again, and you'll see another seating area, referred to by staff as "The Library". This is probably because there are some books there:Also to your left (before the library), there's a dart board. Next to it, there's a chalk board, on which you can either keep scores, or write important messages for the next players. Below, Jenni tells us that she's best [citation needed]. One can only wonder at what... Oh, actually, she does a pretty mean palm-reading; I know that for sure.So now it's off to the toilets. If you enter the pub and go straight through, passing the bar (and more seating) on your left, and the previously-mentioned seating on your right, you come to a doorway with a helpful sign:In the photo above, you can see the sunlight coming in from the right, through the pub's second entrance (which is currently open - Yay, Summer!).

Turning left, as instructed by the helpful sign, you've got a little corridor leading to the stairway to the toilets:Once through the double doors, and turning left, you're at the top of the stairs, over which stands a copy of the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. Just joking, kids; it's called a suit of armour (US/CAN: armor):Quite daunting, isn't it? Don't pee yourselves now; keep up with me here...

Finally, turning left at the bottom of the stairs, you'll find the doors to the toilets.You can probably guess that the one on the left is the Ladies', but the doors aren't always open like that, so I thought I'd point it out.

I'm guessing that the doors are left open when the pub opens because the staff had just washed the floors, and want to allow air through to allow them to dry quicker... but it could also be (partly at least) because these places smell bad, and they want to keep them aired out for as long as possible.

Now, I know that pub toilets are generally not world-reknowned award-winning areas of nose-pleasing, aromatic Gardens of Eden, but these ones can get pretty nasty, by any standard. I don't know whether it's partly because they're under ground - and that dampness could be part of the equation - but... well, at times, it's an experience.

Of course, my only experience comes only from my olfactory observations of the Gents' (US/CAN: Men's Room) , so ladies, I can't say for sure what awaits you on the other side of the wall. Just bring a small - yet stylish - nose plug, just in case.

Another gripe I have is with the hand dryer. What is it with these things? It's 2010, for crying out load (and stamping feet, screaming "It's soooo not fair!!!"). A little bit more than a gentle breeze, please?
Having said all this, there is a certain aesthetic charm here as well. The urinals (US/CAN: urinals, but pronounced differently) are good, solid, old-fashioned pieces of work. Crafted in Stoke-on-Trent (like one of the bar staff), even the name of these masterpieces of yesteryear are an eternal testimony to the pleasures of weeknight drinking in a society in which it is frowned upon: ADAMANT.

Even though I don't give it top marks, mainly due to its odourificiousness (yeah, I know it's not a word, shut up) and the pathetic hand dryer, at least the stalls (not shown in these photos, sorry) are usually relatively clean and usually have toilet paper. And the toilets actually work (although at least one is missing the little knobby thing that you pull on to flush).

Toilet stuff aside, The Pickwick Pub has a really fun (and free) Quiz Night every Wednesday evening at 8:30 p.m. (SWE: 20:30), the beer is good - and there's a wide selection of it, and the staff are absolute diamonds. Oh yeah, and they serve some tasty, and good-value, meals as well.

But really, those pathetic hand dryer things - the ones that barely work - should be banned, and it's time that the Swedish government did something about it. That's what I think.

*Top Toilet Tips for pubs in Helsingborg

Part One: Charles Dickens

Part Two: Hamnkrogen

Part Three: Bishops Arms

Part Four: PL13

Saturday, January 30th, 2010: Acting, performing, and publishing recordings in Helsingborg and Malmö

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 17:00:00 +0000

What I think:

All in all, January's been quite a cool month for me here in the beautiful south of Sweden. I could have done without the snow, but it is winter, so I can't really complain too much about that.

Here's a photo taken today from our rooftop terrace,

with the Turning Torso in the distance:

There's one thing that did annoy me this month though.

Did you read my post about the contempt I have for the town of Ängelholm, where my cover band (CSI: Helsingborg) played a couple of months ago? If not, it doesn't matter; suffice it to say that this town (in which one of main attractions is a UFO Memorial) is one place that I wouldn't miss if it got mistaken for Bin Laden's cave, and got blown to smithereens.

I went to a rehearsal in Helsingborg on January 10th (as we were booked to play at Telegrafen on the following Friday night). It was a good one, with lots of fun, energy, and beer. Quite a substantial amount of beer. I remember that we actually talked briefly about about our Ängelholm gig, and I vowed never to set foot there again.

Afterwards, I decided (in my wisest wisdom) to go to the Telegrafen pub for a beer, before getting the train home. I was feeling good.

Then I went to the station, got my ticket (here's how ->) and got on a train. I was just in time, as well; the train left about 30 seconds after I sat down. Cool.

Then it occurred to me that I got on the wrong train. This one was heading northwards, ending up in Gothenburg. I would have to get off at the next stop and catch a train back in the opposite direction. I looked up and saw that the first stop would be - you guessed it - Ängel-bloody-holm. Nooooo!!! Oh dear. Oh dear-oh-dear-oh-dear. And damn, even.

Just hours before, I vowed never to go there again. The Fates were being painfully unkind to me, and not even using lube whilst administering their unkindness.

In my even wiserest wisdom, I was actually contemplating going all the way to Gothenburg. I would get there before 23:00 (11:00 p.m.) and could stay with my friend VikingHumpingWitch.

I rang my girlfriend and explained the situation to her, but she'd obviously not drunk of the wisdom juice as I had, so convinced me that it would be better to get off at the next stop, and make my way home.

So there I was.

There would be a 45-minute wait for the train to Malmö, it was freezing out, and there was no pub nearby. There was an empty taxi rank and a bus stop. Great.

And the train heading back was an all-stations one, so there'd be three extra stops before even getting back to Helsingborg. Super.

But of course, I made it home and lived to tell the tale, so no real harm done. But I was pretty peeved, to say the least. Grrr, etc.

So now, on to the fun stuff.

Acting

A few months ago, a friend in Stockholm mentioned on his Facebook profile that he'd gotten a bit of work as an extra for some kind of film or TV production. I thought that was pretty cool, so I asked him how he got that gig. He said that he was signed up on a site called statist.se (statist is Swedish for "extra") which lists ads for extras (as you might have guessed).

After having a look and noticing that you have to pay to sign up, I asked him if all the "jobs" are Stockholm-based, to which he replied in the positively negative; there are a few down my way as well. So I paid the small sum of 99 Kronor (about US$13.50 / CAN$14.35 / UK £8.40 / €9.79 / 1,985 Kazakhstan Tenge) for a two month subscription, and had a look. Nothing suitable. Ah well, no great loss. Then I forgot about it.

On January 6th, completely out of the blue, I get this email from someone called Frida at a production company called Dansk Skalle, asking if I'd like audition for a small English-speaking part in a film (US/CAN: movie). Hhmm... OK. So it was arranged that I would go to their office for my audition on the 12th. It turned out that they're only about a ten-minute walk from my place, which was well handy.

I went and read the few lines, and the guys said they still had other auditions during the rest of the week, so they'd get back to me during the next week.

On the 19th, I got an email thanking me for my time, but informing me that I didn't get the part. This was followed immediately by an email apologising for the previous email, and saying that I did get the part. Sweet! Perhaps the Fates had now withdrawn their prickly implements.

Last Monday (the 25th), I went back to their office to meet Åsa, who's looking after costumes for the film. She's actually also an "Aerial Artist". If you want to see what this means, have a look at Åsa's MySpace page here ->. She looked at some shirts I'd brought, checked my size, etc. and said that she'd see if she could find something better suited to the character.

I also had a bit of a rehearsal with the directors (Martin and Emil), which was cool; I got a insight on how they wanted me to play it. We then we arranged to meet on Wednesday (the 27th) for filming. We'd do it at their office, as it was a more-than-adequate location for this particular scene.

At this point, I guess I should describe the character. Without giving too much away, he's a rather scary German pervert called Friedrich; so I get to have fun with a German accent. In this scene, I'm buying gay webcam sex off one of the main characters. (Note: If you wish to leave a comment at the end of this post, please try to keep it clean-ish, okay?)

I got there just before noon on Wednesday, had a coffee and some biscuits (US/CAN: cookies), after which Åsa got me ready. She gave me this shirt that I would normally not be caught dead in. I think it will take a few years for me to forgive her for that.

Then she smothered a bit of vaseline on my face, and a hint of dark eye shadow under my eyes - to give me that tired, sweaty, greasy German look. Ooh oui, c'est chic. Actually, it was quite subtle; nothing too over-the-top.

Here's me practicing my smoking - turns out I'm a natural:

The guys had cut some cigarettes in half, so that when I lit them, it'd look as though I'd been sitting there smoking for a while prior to being connected to my webcam bitch. That's an old movie trick (ah, the magic of Le Cinéma, eh?). Isn't that shirt just... Oh, I don't know. Some of you may even have one like it; if so, I apologise. It's just so not me. *Shudder*

So then we got down to filming my seven lines, and it went really well. We did a few takes, trying different movements and different variations on the lines that were scripted. Have a look in the view finder below - that's what I look like.

Pretty creepy, eh?

The film is called Odjuret, (which is Swedish for "The Beast"). I believe the English title will be "Savage". It's due out at some point after the summer; probably in September or October. The guys aren't sure of how widely it will be distributed, but I'll keep you posted on that.

It was great fun, and a brilliant experience. Now I just need an agent for all the job offers I'll be getting.

Performing

As I mentioned earlier, CSI: Helsingborg had a gig lined up at Telegrafen in Helsingborg on January 15th. We weren't too pleased with the date, as mid-January is not a time that we associate with "lots of people with loads of money coming out to party". Christmas and New Year's had just passed, and it was the middle of the month - exactly two weeks until most people here would get paid.

But we got on with it. We met up at the rehearsal space and loaded up, and guitarist CSI: Nils and I walked to the venue (there was limited room in the car, and Telegrafen is an easily-walkable distance).

On the way, I used some of our crime scene tape at a few choice locations. Here's a shot of an area near the guy-on-the-horse statue in front of City Hall:

And here's CSI: Nils waving the banner across from the Grand Hotel:

Unfortunately, not many of the people I'd invited on my Facebook "Event" could make it, but we ended up having a fair number of people there anyway. Bassist CSI: Per's wife had invited loads of her friends as well, which was very cool.

Here we are during our third set:

Some people even got the boogie-bug, and got up to dance.

Shake that thang!

The people I gave my camera to used it to get some video footage as well. I was surprised at how well it turned out. I mean, the performance wasn't sheer brilliance, but the quality of the sound could have been much worse. Have a look at this clip of Get Off My Cloud, and guffaw at my clumsiness:

I put some more stuff on YouTube (here->) if you're feeling particularly masochistic.

So anyway, in the end, that evening was another CSI success.

Publishing recordings

A few months back, I saw an ad for a company called Zimbalam. For a fee, they publish recordings for you, and distribute them to places like iTunes, Napster, Amazon, and other online mp3 "stores". I had a few songs hanging around, so I thought it would be fun to go for it.

I published an EP with four songs on it, and called it "Consenting Adults". This is because all the musicians I recorded with were of legal age, and they agreed to work with me without too much Rohypnol-I-mean-persuasion.

And here it is:

I wrote the first, third and fourth songs. "Wedding" was written by a good friend of mine when we were in the Montreal Goof Rock band Rude Guru, back in the late-80's. He goes by the name of Dr Trinidad. He's actually married to Professor Maggie who writes the blog, Something Up With Which I WIll Not Put. They live in Montreal.

I recorded "Anti-60's Protest Song" with a groovy German girl called Barbarella when I was living in London; we lived in the same area, and recorded a few songs together. She's a great pianist with a good ear for producing and arranging music. She now lives in (on?) Lanzarote, where she mainly does website stuff. Check out her photo blog and personal website here ->

I recorded Dr Trinidad's "Wedding" on a weekend visit in Germany. A chap called Reto did all instruments except guitar, which I did. The backing vocals were done by the girls in the house at the time.

The last two songs were recorded with Adam in Milton Keynes, England. Adam played lead guitar on both songs (those groovy solos are not mine, alas). Coincidentally, Adam's girlfriend is actually Dr Trinidad's sister. Small world, eh? Have a look at Adam & Nicole's websites - Whispering Back, and Born to Whisper - especially if you're into horses.

Sales of the EP are currently doing better in Europe than in North America, they're doing particularly well in Sweden. In fact, all sales of "Consenting Adults" have so far come from here. Yes, I am the only person to have purchased the EP, and it was by accident. I was testing out how the iTunes purchasing works, and I accidentally bought my own EP.

So, what I'm really hoping is that some of my readers in the US and/or Canada will buy it as well. If two people in the USA were to buy my EP, I could say that twice as many copies were sold over there than here, so I would be "big in America", relatively speaking. That would make my January complete.

So how 'bout it guys? Yeah, you two; you know who you are...

That about wraps it up for the fun stuff, I think.

As for what still annoys me: Ängelholm still exists. Why?

It's time that the Swedish government did something about it.

That's what I think - and Lucy Fur the cat agrees.

Saturday, January 9th, 2010: Healthcare in Malmö, Sweden - my foot!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 09:25:00 +0000

What I think:

Happy New Year. May 2010 bring you lots of attractive things with elaborate frilly edges and modern, but artistically understated, motifs.

With the continued hub-bub about so-called "socialized" (UK: socialised) healthcare in the US, I thought I'd share my recent nightmarish experience here in Sweden.

About 15 months ago, I posted about how I broke some small bones in my right foot, in a very Rock 'n' Roll kind of way. At the time, I wasn't given any kind of treatment, and no X-rays were taken. The doctor I saw just felt my foot, established where bones were broken, and sent me on my merry way, telling me to try to walk on it as soon as possible.

I have since heard from others that more should have been done - maybe an X-ray to confirm her diagnosis, and possibly some kind of brace. At least a pair of crutches would have been nice.

In any case, time went by, and my foot eventually healed. I would get occasional discomfort, but nothing severe or long-lasting. Until about six weeks ago. I started getting pain again, and it seemed to be here to stay - and it was getting progressively worse. I've developed a bit of a limp; if I walk how I'm naturally supposed to, I'm in pain, so I often walk on the outer side of my foot. I look like a little criminal.

So, yesterday, I decided to do something about it. This is where my nightmare begins.

At about a quarter-past two, I rang a clinic here in Malmö, to see if I could arrange an appointment. I waited in the queue for five long minutes before I was answered. When I finally got through, I asked the lady on the line if she spoke English (contrary to popular belief, not everyone in Sweden speaks English). She said that she did.

This lady was annoyingly friendly on the phone. When I started explaining my problem, she interrupted me to ask me for my Personnummer (person number - Sweden's social security number). The rest of the conversation went like this:

Her: "I see you're registered in Stattena [an area of Helsingborg]."

Me: "Yes, I moved to Malmö in March."

Her: "Ah. Well you'll have to register here before we see you."

Me: "OK, so should I come in and fill in a form, and make an appointment after that?"

Her: "Well, what's your problem, exactly?"

I gave her a brief version of the story, and told her that I'm now pretty much in constant pain when I walk. Then she said, "Well, there's an appointment slot open for three o'clock."

Me: "That's in about half an hour!"

Her: "Yes. Just ask for the registration form when you get to reception."

I had been looking forward to a nice long wait of at least a few weeks to relish my delicious agony a while longer, but in one fell swoop, she completely ruined it. The nerve of that irritatingly polite woman.

About fifteen minutes minutes later, I got on my bike and cycled to the clinic (the first time I ever cycled when there was snow on the ground - it's pretty common here; looky here ->). I got there at about five-to, and checked in at reception.

I was given a very long and complicated form to fill in. It required all of the following information:

- My name (first and last),

- My address, including my post code,

- My Personnummer - all twelve digits, with a dash after the eighth digit (how complicated is that!?)

- Then I had to spend time writing down my signature (something that takes so much focus and concentration that my tongue automatically sticks out the side of my mouth), and the date (do I look like a calendar, or what?).

I just wanted someone to look at my foot; I didn't expect all this bureaucracy. Jeez.

I handed in the form, and then I had to pay for my visit. I was charged 200 Kronor (about US$28.30 / CAN$29.20 / UK £17.65 / €19.65)!! Highway robbery, or what!?

I sat in the waiting room for almost ten whole minutes before the doctor came to get me. He shook my hand and introduced himself as "Eric". Umm... Eric? That didn't sound very professional to me.

In the examination room, Eric asked me loads of boringly relevant questions in an aggravatingly affable manner. He looked at my foot, pressed around a bit, and said that if it happened 15 months ago, the bones will definitely have healed. But he was a bit surprised that an X-ray wasn't taken at the time, just to double-check that it wasn't more serious.

He said he suspected that a nerve was irritated, and that I should try using a padded insert in my boot (available from any sports store), to take the weight off the troubled area. He also prescribed a two-week course of anti-inflammatory tablets, and booked an X-ray for me, so that my problem would be properly documented, just in case I need to go down the route of orthopedic surgery later on. It was an open booking, meaning that I could go for my X-ray any time they're open, at my convenience. Well, that's something good, at least.

Eric said that I should let him know how things go after a few weeks. OK.

I went to the Apoteket nearby to get my prescription of anti-inflammatory tablets. I handed over my Swedish ID, and the cheerful woman behind the desk tapped in my Personnummer and got my prescription from the online system. Paper prescriptions are quickly becoming obsolete here in Sweden (if they still exist at all). My pills cost me a whopping 160 Kronor (about US$22.60 / CAN$23.35 / UK £14.10 / €15.70)! This was costing me a fortune.

I went to a sports store (something I would never normally do), and asked for a "pelotte", which is the little pad I was supposed to put in my boot. I'd never heard of it, but they knew exactly what it was. There goes another 100 Kronor (about US$14.15 / CAN$14.60 / UK £8.85 / €9.80).

I got home, placed my pelotte, popped my pill, and pondered my plight. Since the time I picked up the phone, I'd wasted a total of two whole hours of my life, and spent a gigantic 440 Kronor (about US$62.25 / CAN$64.20 / UK £38.85 / €43.20), just to get something done about my foot.

I think it's totally unacceptable that this type of thing is allowed to happen in any society. More should be done to warn innocent people of the dangers that Rock 'n' Roll can bring to their feet, especially in this day and age. It's time that the Swedish government did something about it. That's what I think.

Friday, November 20th, 2009: Beer and Loathingin Helsingborg and Ängelholm or A Tale of Two Telegrafens

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 11:17:00 +0000

What I think:

So, it's official: Ängelholm is my least favourite place in Sweden. Actually, I take that back; it's my least favourite place on Earth. In fact, if some form of intelligent life was ever discovered on some distant planet, somewhere in the outer realms of the known universe, and that civilisation (US/CAN: civilization) had one town that everyone considered really crap, I would most likely prefer going there than to Ängelholm.

Pause. Rewind. Pause. Play...

My band, CSI: Helsingborg, had a couple of pub gigs lined up a while ago. One was to be at Telegrafen in Helsingborg on October 30th, and the other at a different, unrelated, Telegrafen in a town called Ängelholm the following week, on November 6th. Cool.

I go to the one in Helsingborg fairly regularly, and we'd actually played there before as well (go here and scroll down, if you want to read about it). We'd had a great show there, so we were very much looking forward to this one (even though the "stage" area is about the size of a disabled persons' toilet cubicle).

I hopped on the train from Malmö (where I now live) to Helsingborg the night before the gig, and set about doing my usual bout of vandalising (US/CAN: vandalizing) the city with CSI: Helsingborg crime scene tape. I cordoned off much of the southern part of the city, bits of the park near the library, and a few places near Telegrafen in the north.

Here's a bit just outside 7-Eleven off Södergatan:

The next day, we had a visit from Miss Kitten from Gothenburg (SWE: Göteborg) who came down to see the show and to stay with us in Malmö for the weekend.

I met her at the station in Helsingborg in the afternoon, and we toddled off to the Charles Dickens pub to get the festivities underway for the evening. The beer went down nicely-yum-thanks.

My girlfriend turned up a bit later to take Miss Kitten to her friend's little pre-party, and I walked to the rehearsal space to contribute to The CSI: Helsingborg Loading of The Gear process. This didn't take long, as Telegrafen has an in-house PA with a mixer and speakers. So it was really just instruments, an amp, and a few other bits. We didn't need to hire a trailer for this gig. But it did mean that two of us would have to walk.

Our rehearsal space has a little fridge, which we try to keep stocked with beer, so I brought one of these and took a nice leisurely stroll to the venue with bassist CSI: Per.

The gig was good, but there weren't as many people there as last time. Miss Kitten had graciously agreed to take a few photos for us.

Here's one with me holding a beer:

Here's one in which Miss Kitten had run out of beer:

And here's one in which Miss Kitten had replenished her beer:

There are more photos, but I don't want to bore you, as most of the others don't contain beer.

So anyway, yeah, it was a good night, and a great weekend.

The next Friday, not wishing to break with a winning tradition, I went to the Charles Dickens pub for a beer or two, then went to meet the CSI team at CSI: HQ, Helsingborg. We loaded the gear and headed to the Telegrafen pub in Ängelholm.

The layout of the place was a bit special. When you walk in the door, to your left there are a couple of tables, and to your right, a few paces ahead, there's a small staircase leading up to the main bar area. The bar is straight ahead, and there are a few tables on either side. Before the bar, and on the left, there's another small staircase leading up to another area with a few more tables. In the far left corner of this area, there's yet another small staircase leading up to an area with the blackjack table on the right, and a small table and a sofa on the left. Past the table and sofa is a small balcony. This is the stage.

I know that was a bit hard to follow but, basically, the balcony is above the entrance area. If you walk in the front door and look up and to your right, you'll see the balcony; the balcony faces the first flight of stairs, and the bar.

Now this "stage" is bloody tiny. It makes Helsingborg's Telegrafen's stage area look like Wembley Stadium. OK, slight exaggeration; maybe Wembley Arena. There was about 60 cm (about two feet) of space between my microphone stand and the bass drum behind me, and guitarist CSI: Nils would have to stand sideways throughout the gig, to avoid hitting me in the head.

We unloaded and set up the CSI equipment, had a beer, then had a beer with some food, and got rocking with our first set.

We were told to keep our most upbeat set (with our most "known" songs) for the third set, as this would be when a lot of people will have come in for a drink before heading off elsewhere. Fair enough, and I thought it was a good call by the manager guy. He seemed to have a good idea of what he was doing.

After our first set (which we felt was pretty damn good), I went down to get us a round. I went to the bar and ordered three beers, only to be told by the barmaid that she was told not to serve us any more drinks. No beer? This is where the "loathing" bit comes in.

I marched straight back upstairs, told the guys that we've been refused beer, and announced that I was going out for a smoke to calm down, after which I would speak to the manager guy. If we weren't to be served any more beer, they would not be served any more rock 'n' roll, dammit. So there.

When I got back from my smoking/fuming stroll (which was actually more like a swearing, pacing, swaggering strut), I went back in and up to the bar. The guy was there. When he came up to me, I ordered three beers.

"Yep, no problem," he said, and began pouring. After he served me, I asked him what the hell the business with the barmaid was about. He tried to explain, in some bizarre and roundabout way, that it was a misunderstanding.

I tried, a few times, to ask why the barmaid would have refused to serve me unless she'd been instructed to, but to no avail. The guy was just rambling. I think he was confusing himself nearly as much as he was confusing me. In my opinion, he's just a weird guy.

It's not like they were free; we were actually paying for our beer.

Anyway, we continued with our show. After another set, the guy asked us if we would mind sitting in the kitchen area, so the customers wouldn't see us drinking. Umm... This is a pub. It looked to me that everyone else in the pub was drinking. Why would they mind the band having drinks between sets? I'd been out for a smoke when this episode took place but, needless to say, we did not sit in the kitchen.

After our third set (there were to be four), we were told that, because it was rather quiet, we could pack up and go, and that we'd still get paid for the whole gig. So we had another beer, and did just that.

Three of us waited in the car, while CSI: Per was collecting our money. He took quite a while because, apparently, the guy was lecturing him on our choice of songs, and how it's not very professional to have drinks when you're performing. Perhaps he normally gets Mormon bands in, or something; I don't know.

We won't be playing in Ängelholm again.

Ah Ängelholm. It's actually where Helsingborg's airport is (in the tradition of having a city's airport nowhere near the city itself). I wrote about my adventure of getting to the airport a few years ago here -> .

I looked it up on Wiki, and apparently Ängelholm is most famous for the manufacture of clay cuckoos and ice cream. Uh-huh.

But that's not all it has, oh no. There's also the "UFO-Memorial".

From Wiki:

"The UFO-Memorial Ängelholm memorialises the landing of a UFO, which is said to have taken place on May 18, 1946 and been seen by the Swedish ice hockey player Gösta Carlsson. The memorial consists of a model of the UFO and the landing traces, and is constructed of concrete....

"In the encounter Gösta Carlsson claims to have received recipes for natural remedies. Based on this knowledge he started the pharmaceutical companies Cernelle and Allergon which grew to become a success and made him wealthy. He later founded the first professional ice-hockey club in Sweden — Rögle BK..."

Clay cuckoos, a UFO memorial (on the site where an ex-hockey player got recipes from aliens), an airport that's not serviced by a train station, and a pub that doesn't like its guest bands to have any beer. Oh, and ice cream (that bit's OK - although I don't think I've ever tried - nor would I want to now). That about sums it up.

I wish the Swedish government would do something about it but, judging from the decisions that they make in this country, I suspect many politicians are from there.

That's what I think.

Monday, September 14th, 2009: Health, suicide, and parties in Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 10:42:00 +0000

What I think:

Health:

A few weeks ago, an American author and blogger named William Campbell (no relation to the soup, as far as I know) e-mailed me about a blog project he was working on about healthcare in different countries. Unless you've been living under a large stone on Jupiter, you'll know that this has been a hotly debated issues over the past couple of months. So I e-mailed him my take on healthcare in Canada, the UK, and Sweden (the three countries in which I've lived).

William's blog is called Tome of The Unknown Writer, and his project was called The Health Care Stories Project. Have a browse through it, there's some pretty interesting stuff.

Here's William wearing his favourite green shirt.

Quite a dashing chap wouldn't you say?

Here's an excerpt from my contribution (the bit about Sweden): "In Sweden, healthcare isn't completely free. If you need to see a doctor, you pay up to about 200 Kronor (about $28) per visit. But the costs are capped at 900 Kronor (about $130) for the year. This means that if you need to see a doctor several times over the course of a year, you'll never need to pay more that about $130.

I went to see a dermatologist to get some nasty moles removed. I had to go several times over the course of a few months. The procedure entailed applying some ultra-freezing stuff with a cotton swab to freeze the moles, and they would eventually fall off. I think I had to go about seven or eight times. I was pleasantly surprised when I turned up once and was told that I don't have to pay anymore. I'd thought that I would always have to pay about $28 every time.

It's the same deal with prescriptions. I don't remember the exact amounts, but there's an annual cap of - I think - about $270."

You can read the whole piece here, if you're interested. There are some typos though, as I don't tend to be so meticulously careful when writing e-mails, so apologies for that.

Suicide:

A few days ago, I went Helsingborg to do some shopping for a couple of friends newly arrived from New York City. They had just moved a few weeks ago to a small town called Växjö (which is pronounced not one bit like "cheese sandwich"), and it appears that there are certain things that are hard to come by there. So I thought I'd help them out.

On my way through the park, I noticed a load of poles with long white strips of white fabric hanging from them, right behind a large sign which was placed at the edge of the circular area in front of the library, near the fountain. Having no idea as to what this collection of things was supposed to represent, I continued along the path until I saw the sign.

Roughly translated, it says, "September 10th / Suicide Day / We mourn and remember those who chose not to live anymore".

In my mind, this seemed to reinforce and perpetuate the popular notion that suicide is extremely prevalent in Swedish society. Many believe that Sweden has one of the highest suicide rates in the world. Indeed, many people I've personally spoken to in Sweden either know, or know someone who knows, someone who has committed suicide.

I just thought it would be a funky photo to share on this blog, but I figured I'd do a bit of googling about the topic as well. It turns out that there are a few different ways of coming up with statistics on suicide rates (comparisons by country). But every single table I found on the subject places Sweden nowhere near the top.

For example, if you look at the Wiki page (List of countries by suicide rate), the latest figures show that Sweden comes in at number 31, below countries such as: Russia, Japan, Belgium, Finland, France, Switzerland, Austria, China, New Zealand, and Denmark. Another set of statistics shows Sweden's suicide rate just lower than that of my beloved Canada, and just higher than the USA's.

Something else I stumbled upon while looking into this was the scientifically proven link between country music and suicide. No, it's true. Dr Steven Stack of Wayne State University, Michigan, said, "We had hard data showing that cities with higher than average country music radio market share had higher white suicide rates." (Read more here, then google the subject for more in-depth information)

Eat your bat-munching heart out, Ozzy.

Bottom line:

The idea that Sweden's national sport is suicide is a myth. So there.

Parties in Helsingborg:

This has been a time of birthday parties, it appears.

You may remember my American fellow blogger Ken (from Football Fashion Fanatics). Well, he had a birthday party on August 29th. I won't reveal the age of this semi-centennarial Yank, but his party had a cool-yet-bizarre vibe.

About half of the guests were off-duty cops, while most of the rest were complete undesirables (like me). But it was a great night, nonetheless. There was a guitar/microphone set-up as well, and CSI:Nils made an appearance, so there were some songs sung.

However, some of the people singing should have been arrested, in my opinion, including Ken's girlfriend, who came up with The Booby Song, which she reckoned gave her carte blanche to roam the party squeezing everyone's fun bags. Even the guys'. Criminal behaviour.

A week later, another friend (a Brit this time) also had a birthday party. I'm not sure of how he feels about Internet anonymity, so I'll call him Mr Flipperandy. Close enough.

It was an 80s-themed party, and it was cool to see a load of people dressed in the monstrousness that was 80s fashion.

Here's Mr Flipperandy, in his 80s regalia, with a nice German girl.

Those who know him will notice that he actually went to the trouble of getting a bit of a trim for the occasion.

For my part, since I pretty much only own black clothes, I decided to go for the look associated with The Cure. And I decided to wear my Make Poverty Quieter t-shirt, so that I could wittily knock the big "Feed The World" fad of the mid-80s.

"We Are The World? Typical imperialistic American sentiment. They think they are the world. Bollocks," I quipped. Then, moving onto the original British effort - and without skipping a beat - I hilariously remarked (to everyone's continuing applause, followed by hushed appreciation), "Do They Know It's Christmas? Umm, as far as I know, the people of Ethiopia are Muslims, so I would think that they neither know nor care about any Christian holidays."

Oh what fun.

Here's me with a Dutch girl, known as The Dutch...ess.

Sounds like The Dutch "S", but her real name (which actually contains 27 letters altogether - no joke) actually has no "S" in it. Go figure.

Had a great time there, and I must commend Mr Fipperandy on his choice of theme.

The point of this whole thing though is that I think cops should be banned from all parties except ones held by cops. It's time that the Swedish government did something about it. That's what I think.

Thursday, August 27th, 2009: How to take a train from Helsingborg to Malmö (buying a ticket)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 16:18:00 +0000

What I think:

According to a survey of Helsingborg residents a couple of years ago, the best thing about Helsingborg is that it's easy to get away from.

I think people probably meant that it's a decent travel hub, with its trains and ferries offering easy access to mainland Europe via Denmark, and coaches heading to great Swedish cities like Gothenburg, Stockholm and Kågeröd. But this particular survey result gave me a nice little gut-splitting, laugh-till-you-puke chuckle nonetheless.

Since my move to Malmö in March, I've travelled to and from Helsingborg quite a bit, as many of my friends, and my band (CSI: Helsingborg), are there.

Last time I was leaving Helsingborg, I thought I'd take the opportunity to snap a few shots to show you how to buy a ticket to get to Malmö. Ready? Here goes...

Step One: Get to Knutpunkten

Knutpunkten is a Swedish word meaning "The Junction" (in the context of railways). It's also the name of the large terminal building to and from which the aforementioned ferries, trains and buses arrive and depart.

It's located in the city centre (such as it is) right on the narrow strait between Sweden and Denmark, called the Öresund or "The Sound" (oh, by the way, there's a band called The Sounds who come from Helsingborg. They're pretty good; have a look/listen on YouTube.).

This is what Knutpunkten looks like on its northern side:

This is where the main entrance is. There's also a taxi rank here (see the silver cars there). By the way, if you ever need to take a taxi in Helsingborg, be sure to get in one that has 180 200 on the side. Most of the others will rip you off (especially if you're a tourist or new to town). You can order these cabs locally by dialling 042 180 200.

There are a few other entrances, on the main road side (to the left of this photo), and on the bus/coach terminal side at the southern end of the building.

Step Two: Enter Knutpunkten

Upon entering and to your right, you'll see the escalators heading up to the ferries. Don't go up there; they go to Helsingör (Elsinore) in Denmark. We're going to Malmö, remember. Stay focused, please. Anyway, I covered the ferries here, if you're interested.

Step Three: Go to the ticket machines

Just take a few steps straight ahead and you'll see the ticket machines. Above them, you'll see information on upcoming train departure times - you'll want the screen on the left. It also shows the platform number. There are only four platforms, so you can't go wrong (although I did once, when I had a few too many nasty Swedish beers in town. But I realised in time, dashed off the wrong train, fell over, and got on the right train. But I digress...). Go to one of the touch-screen machines. These are quickest to use, if you know what you're doing. Oh yeah, I should have mentioned that we'll be paying in cash, so make sure to have a 100-kronor note (US/CAN: bill) with you. If you haven't got any Swedish money, there are two bureaux de change in the building - and a couple across the street, near the 7-11.

Step Four: Choose the "Quick-choice" ticket

When you approach the machine, and possibly touch the screen if it's been idle for a while, the bottom half of the screen gives you the option using Snabbval. This basically means "Quick-choice". You'll want to use this, otherwise you'll just be shown 17,466,493 other stations that you don't want. Malmö's here, so let's just go for that, shall we?I should point out here that you can't get return tickets; they're single (US/CAN: one-way) only. To translate the above: 1 VUXEN enkel standard means "1 ADULT standard single".

Step Five: Choose "cash"

Kontant is Swedish for cash, where methods of payment are concerned, so touch that option.You're supposed to be able to pay by credit/debit card, but this hasn't always worked for me. When it has actually worked, I've often had to swipe my card several times, then it might ask for my PIN number, then it would ask me to swipe again, etc. I gave up when it started asking for my star sign, favourite film (US/CAN: movie), and most often used position.

Step Six: Transaction confirmation

The next screen shows you what you're about to purchase, and the amount (Pris) you'll have to pay. As you can see, at the time of writing, the price was 96 kronor (about £8.30 / €9.40 / CAN$14.70 / US$13.55) Confirm this choice with a resounding Ja.Step Seven: They want you to pay

The next screen is similar to the last one but, towards the bottom, they seem to be hinting that you should insert money. And this is indeed what they want you to do.
And since you have that nice crisp 100-kronor note I asked you to get earlier, you're all set to insert it into the slot provided below. Go for it; slide that baby in there. Ooh yeah, etc.You then collect your ticket and change from the red compartment at the bottom. If the fare hasn't changed since I wrote this (yeah, right), you should get four nice shiny 1-krona coins.

(Swedish lesson: One krona, several kronor. Krona is Swedish for crown, and the plural form is kronor. Here endeth the lesson.)

Step Eight: Take your ticket

Don't forget your ticket! They almost always check for valid tickets during your journey. It is actually possible to buy your ticket on the train, but there is a real chance that you'll be severely tutted at by impatient fellow passengers, as it takes forever for the ticket guy/girl to issue tickets on board.

And here is your ticket! Well done!

As you can see, I've underlined a couple of bits here. GILTIG TILL means "VALID UNTIL". The ticket was issued at 18:33 (or 6:33 p.m.), and it's valid until 21:40 (or 9:40 p.m.).

This is good to know because, depending on the train, the journey time to Malmö from Helsingborg is usually less than an hour. These tickets are also valid on Malmö's city buses. So hang onto that ticket if you need to take a bus at the other end.

Now you just need to go to your platform and get on your train. Or, if you've got some time to kill, there are a few pubs in the terminal building. There's the Crom Bar on the ground floor and The Shakespeare (and two others, I think) upstairs - just below the ferry departure floor.

I didn't take photos of these interesting venues this time, but perhaps I'll treat you with some at a later date. I usually go to Crom, because there's an outdoor bit where you can smoke. Plus it's closer to the platforms.

So there you go; you now know how to get a ticket from Helsingborg to Malmö. I just think it's a shame that the portable ticket machines that the poor staff on the train have to carry are so crap. It's time that the Swedish government did something about it.

That's what I think.

Thursday, July 2nd, 2009: A quick note about Helsingborg and Malmö: Signs

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 18:19:00 +0000

What I think:

Since it's been a while since my last post (yeah-yeah, I know, shut up), I thought I'd just ease back into the blogosphere with a couple of quick observations. Yep, keepin' it brief.

People often ask me if I enjoy living in Malmö since I moved from Helsingborg. To be honest, it's a tricky question because it's still just a city in the south of Sweden, with the same accent, and pretty much all the same kind of stuff, except that it's bigger. I don't really go out anywhere that I hadn't already been when I was visiting here, but there is definitely more to explore.

And there are more dogs and bicycles. That's what I've really noticed: loads more dogs and bicycles here than in Helsingborg. But that makes sense, as the population of Malmö is about double that of Helsingborg.

But another thing I've noticed is that people here seem more friendly and helpful. It's a bit strange, but in Helsingborg, people who work with the public come across as they're going out of their way to serve you - as though they're doing you a big favour, and you bloody well better appreciate it - whereas in Malmö (from what I've experienced so far), most people serve you with a friendly greeting, and bid you good-day when you leave the shop, pub, or restaurant.

Crikey, that was a long sentence. But it's true. My friend The Yank went to some restaurant/bar in Helsingborg with great service, and the guy who owns it confided in him that his secret is not hiring anyone from Helsingborg to work with the public (there is a chef from there). There you go.

But at the end of the day, it's only about an hour's train ride away between the two cities (less than that on a fast train), which is almost exactly how long it took me to commute to and from work every day when I lived in London.

(Traveller info: At the time of writing, a single (US/CAN: one-way) ticket from Malmö to Helsingborg cost 96 kronor (£7.52; CAN$14.30; €8.82; US$5,049.99)).

Signs

I noticed an English sign in Helsingborg a while ago, and it got me thinking about what kind of English Swedes actually learn. I seem to remember being told by most Swedes whom I've asked that the standard English they learn is British English. But from what I gather, there seems to be rather a mish-mash involved. Most Swedes I've met use words like elevator (instead of lift), sidewalk (instead of pavement), and pants (instead of trousers). But they do seem to use mobile instead of cellphone.

And what's this about, then?

A Swedish company using both British and American spellings in one word. This made me cringe and chuckle in the same ermm... gesture (?).

Hhmm... I must have looked like I was having a seizure or something.

Actually, when I had a closer look at this photo, I could see someone watching me from the top-left window. And in the window directly above this shop, there's one of those models of a human body with no skin on.

Hhmmm... doctor's office?

But I digest. Beer.

Right. Signs.

On the street where I live in Malmö, people seem to be into making their own little signs. In front of our building, there's a little pave-stone pathway, with a randomly placed set of "rows" of bushes in sort of a mini-garden on the right, leading to the street. It separates our entrance's pathway to the neighbours' (US/CAN: neighbors') pathway.

Earlier this year, someone had place a bizarre little chunk of concrete, barely larger than a brick, between two of these bushes, right near the end of our pathway. A few weeks later, a little hand-written sign appeared in its place, taped to a stick which was stuck into the ground. It said what translates to "What gives you the right to ruin the bushes?"

People had obviously been using this gap between the bushes as a little shortcut from the corner of our little path to the main pavement, and one of our fellow residents got pissed off with that. We laughed and went "aww bless", as you do. That was that.

But then, a few weeks later, I learned a couple of new Swedish words. Did you know that there are words in Swedish to address male and female pet owners? Yes, of course, we English people know the "master/mistress" thing, but these Swedish equivalents are actually pet-specific.

Now, people here are very conscious of their pups' poops, and are good at picking up after them. It's just common courtesy, right?

Well, it appears that there is a rebel in our midst down here in the mean streets of Ribbersborg, Malmö. Somebody let their doggy do the doggy-do-deed on the edge of the pavement, just into one of the little mini-garden things across the street from us. With this doggy-do-deed done (dirt-cheap, undoubtedly), a local do-gooder done gone and drawn up a sign to display his dismay.

Here comes my (and your) Swedish lesson:

Matte is a Swedish word meaning female pet owner, and Husse is its male equivalent. "FY SKÄMS!" means something like "Shame on you!" or "For shame!"

So that was really all I wanted to write about this time.

It's good to learn new things, even if they're sometimes borne out of shit, don't you find?

But while I'm in this blog thing anyway, I might as well briefly mention a visit from an American friend living in Gothenburg. Won't take long.

Miss Kitten's visit

Miss Kitten is a fellow expat blogger. Check her out here if you've got a minute after this brief entry you're currently enduring. I met her online through The Local (Sweden's news in English), as they have a discussion forum, where expats from around Sweden get together to help each other out or throw poop at each other (get your Matte/Husse signs ready, dear students).

I'd met Miss Kitten in person once before, when my girlfriend and I went to Stockholm for a visit, and we were happy (my girlfriend and I) when Miss Kitten said that she would like to come down to Malmö for a weekend-ish thing to see me and my girlfriend. Miss Kitten did.

Damn this beer, but it's really warm here in Malmö and it's going down a treat.

So, Miss Kitten came to Malmö. But the first thing we did when she got to Malmö was go to Helsingborg. Because no trip from Gothenburg to Malmö is complete without a ride on the ferry from Helsingborg to Helsingör. Some might disagree, but you shouldn't listen to them. Ever.

The plan was to get on the ferry to buy a case of beer, which we would bring back to Helsingborg, and to a CSI: Helsingborg rehearsal. Miss Kitten was into the idea, so off we went.

The ferry trip...

Miss Kitten prefers to keep relatively anonymous on the Internet, so I've done a bit of Photoshop stuff on her.

Here she is on the ferry.

That's the famous Helsingör castle (or Elsinore, for all you Shakespeare buffs). We didn't go there though; we stayed on board, bought beer and headed back.

Also joining us on the ferry trip was Kieron, a friend from England (someone else was there too, but we'll get to him later. Maybe.). I don't think Kieron is too concerned about having his identity blasted all over the Internet, so I'll use his real name. He has a cool expat blog as well, and you can read his adventures about moving to - and adjusting to - life in Helsingborg here ->

And because Kieron is not too bothered about being on the Internet, here is a photo of him, in all his glory:

I took another photo of Kieron, from a bit of a distance, but he looked at it and got a bit prima-donna-ish about it, saying that it showed that he had a big belly.

I told him that was nonsense, and that you could barely see that little huge beer-bulge trying desperately to flop over his trousers (US/CAN: pants).

What do you think? Has Kieron got an enormous spare tyre (US/CAN: tire)?

Just in case you're having any difficulties in spotting it, I've given you some indication as to its whereabouts.

Go to Kieron's blog now, and leave a comment with your thoughts on the matter. It doesn't matter if it's irrelevant to his current post; Kieron would love to hear what you think about his belly, I can assure you.

After buying the beer, which is an essential part of every CSI: Helsingborg rehearsal, we went to the Charles Dickens pub for our pre-rehearsal beers, which are an essential part of every CSI: Helsingborg rehearsal.

There were a few beers with Miss Kitten, guitarist CSI: Nils, and maybe a couple of others I can't recall just now.

Here's Miss Kitten retaining her anonymity:

We had a great, fun, rehearsal. Afterwards, Miss Kitten and I took the train back to Malmö, and we went out the next evening with my girlfriend (after a bitchin' lasagne that I'd made especially).

And that's it! Told you it'd be brief.

Many thanks to Miss Kitten for having visited us in Malmö.

Before I forget though, I have to tell you (briefly) that I made a blueberry swirl cheesecake at some point. It was lovely, and here it is:

That's all.

But hang on a sec though.

We had another visitor from Gothenburg; this time an English girl. I also met her through The Local's discussion forum. She goes by the name of VikingHumpingWitch.

VikingHumpingWitch's visit

As per the "Visitor From Gothenburg to Malmö" protocol, we went to Helsingborg, and dutifully went on to fulfil the "Buy Beer on Ferry" clause. Fully.

We then met up with The Yank, who was drafted in especially for this mission. We arranged to meet at Hamnkrogen (known as The Circle Bar to us foreign agents), and consumed what we thought were pretty crap beers.

I think she wants to remain anonymous, so I've given VikingHumpingWitch a bit of a disguise - through the magic of Wicca (and with some help from Photoshop).

Here are VikingHumpingWitch and The Yank at The Circle Bar:

After that, we went to the Charles Dickens pub, where we met up with Ken, who doesn't mind having his name (or image) on the Internet. Ken Malone is a media whore, just like me.

Here's a photo of me and Ken:

Ken has a blog called Football Fashion Fanatics, which is mainly about the different (American) football jerseys that different American football teams wear. Apparently he's fanatical about them. I am not. But he writes pretty funny stuff anyway, so you really should check him out once you've finished reading this brief entry.

Guitarist CSI: Nils joined me, Ken, and VikingHumpingWitch for the pre-rehearsal imbibing at Dickens.

CSI: Nils is the one on the left:

The couple behind them were fun. The old pervy bloke (US/CAN: senior citizen perverted guy) took VikingHumpingWitch's hand and attempted to explain to his wife (who looked quite a bit like Tweety Pie from the old Warner Brother cartoons) that this is the level of beauty to which she should be aspiring. As shown above, VikingHumpingWitch merely politely turned purple and blue in embarrassment.

We had a great, fun, rehearsal. Afterwards, VikingHumpingWitch and I took the train back to Malmö, and we went out the next evening with my girlfriend (after a bitchin' pasta thing that I'd made especially). I think.

That was it! Another satisfied visitor from Gothenburg. We're hoping to get more at some point (some Metal-headed Kiwi is expected sometime within the next little while, I think - if he doesn't wuss out).

In the meantime, thanks for taking the time to read this brief blog post.

But wait: Did you know that CSI: Helsingborg had a gig way out - far, far away - in Tjörnarp, near Höör?

No? OK, hang about... This will be brief.

CSI: Helsingborg play at Tjällaren in Tjörnarp

We got this gig in the middle of bloody nowhere, and we said yes please!

CSI: Helsingborg will investigate wherever we must.

So off we went.

Tjällaren is a weird venue. It's downstairs in some odd-looking building.

It's a members-only pub. Here's their website - it doesn't look like it's been update since the discovery of America, but you'll get the idea. You actually have to apply online (or presumably through word-of-mouth as well), but you can't just turn up and expect to gain entry. Unless you're drunk or in a band, or both, apparently.

The message below translates to: You're obese and ugly; turn around and leave now, lard-assed eye-sore.

Or, in some dialects of the extremely complex Swedish language, it means: Members Only.

I think that this is the correct interpretation, actually.

Once inside, there's a coat-check place on the left (a must for any Swedish venue - but it doesn't necessarily have to to be on the left), and a corridor straight ahead (see CSI: PER wheeling that wheelie-thing so professionally).Down the corridor and to the left is the main bar area. It's a pretty good size. I wasn't standing too far way when I took this photo:The stage was actually OK as well. Bargain.

After we set up our gear (I like to say "we" so that I feel that I've been involved in the process. Well hey, I'm like the lead singer, OK? I don't have to do that roadie crap.), we were invited to a barbecue (US/CAN: BBQ). Brilliant!

One of the CSI guys knows someone, or works with someone, or whatever; it was a nice barbecue, and with a nice host with nice friends & family of his.

This guy was just a totally normal down-to-earth bloke, living out in the middle of nowhere, roasting pork chops and hot dogs for us. And there were plenty of different salads as well. Yum!

But there's always something

a bit different about country folk, don't you think?

I found a guitar inside and sang a wonderfully obnoxious version of the Stones' Sympathy For The Devil,

and everyone was happy and cheered appropriately. Thank you. Thank you very much. No, I don't know Dueling Banjos.

And the band was getting well into happy-party-gigging mode.

Well, most of us were.

Can you spot the designated driver below?

We got to the venue and hung out a bit before the gig, as you do.

Here is the rhythm section,

all set to rock the socks off some down-home country Swedes:

Here is the guitarist just itching to make amazing screechy sounds

to scratch everyone's ears:

Here is probably one of the scariest photos I've ever seen of myself.

Yikes.

Well the gig went really well, with the exception of some drunk guy insisting that we must know some Guns & Roses.

(We don't; there's a good reason for that, and it's not to do with their inimitable skill and acumen.)

I had a great time, and met some great people.

But then there was the question of where to sleep. We're CSI:Helsingborg, so the guys live in Helsingborg. But I now live in Malmö. And it's like three in the morning. Hhmm...

I decided to sleep on the floor of the rehearsal space. I mean, it's carpeted, and I'd slept in worse places, so why not? But then, upon our arrival, the floor - carpeted though it may be - became less appealing.

So I created the Bubble-Wrap Bed®.

There was some bubble-wrap, that had been wrapped around some speakers we'd received, tucked away behind a room-divider, so I thought I'd give it a go. Why not?

So here's a self-portrait of me

lying on my newly-created Bubble-Wrap Bed® :

The result? Don't bother. It wasn't comfortable; not worth the speakers it was wrapped around.

I just waited a few hours, walked to the station, and went to Malmö. I suggest you do the same (but call me first).

Finally, that's all I have for this brief blog post.

But there's juts this little get-together I had in Malmö that was pretty fun.

Don't worry; it's brief.

Visitors from Helsingborg in Malmö

The Yank came round a few weeks ago with his lovely girlfriend.

Another friend came round at around the same time, but without his lovely girlfriend.

We decided that we would have a barbecue (US/CAN: BBQ) on the beach (US/CAN: in the backyard).

This "other friend" I mention did not seem really sure about having his name and image published on the Internet, so I lent him a funky wig and facial hair, in case any photography would happen to take place. I also thought it wise not to mention his real name, but go by his screen name on The Local's discussion forum, which is "tom."

So here's me, tom., and The Yank

having a very serious discussion about

The Role of the Stand-up Comic in the 17th Century

And so it was off for a little picnic on the grassy part of the beach for a little barbecue thing (US/CAN: BBQ thing).

Here's The Yank in action.

Look at how he flips them chops.

Amazing.

And look at how .tom - OOPS! Tom forgot his disguise! Oh no!

OK, I'd better end this now.

Just a sec.

Here's a photo that was taken

when we were relaxing very naturally:

To sum up, then...

The people of Sweden should know what kind of English they're learning: British or American.. There should never be any confusion over things like pants, underpants, cigarettes, fags, homosexuals, braces or suspenders. It's time that the Swedish government did something about it.

That's what I think.

Tuesday, March 24th, 2009: Recycling (and my strange building) in Malmö

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 19:59:00 +0000

What I think:

Since I moved to Sweden, I've felt that recycling is a pretty thorough thing here. I even wrote about how it works in Helsingborg a couple of years ago (here). But it appears that recycling is not quite as thorough in Malmö as it is in Helsingborg.

Having just moved into our new place in Malmö, we naturally had a fair amount of rubbish (US/CAN: garbage) to dispose of, so off we went on our first visit to the rubbish room. It's actually in the basement, and along a long-ish corridor.

What we discovered was that, while there are the usual bins for paper, cardboard, clear and coloured (US/CAN: colored) glass, hard plastic, and general household waste, there are none for soft plastic or organic waste (left-overs, peels/skins, bones, rude cashiers, landlords, etc.). So all plastic carrier-bags/wrappers and people you don't like (including rappers) have to go in with the general household waste.

Now, I'm just wondering whether this is an all-of-Malmö thing, whether it's just my building, or whether it varies from building to building, or area to area.

I know that there are a few fellow blogging expats out there who live in Malmö, so I would be grateful to anyone who knows the answer to my query if they would leave a comment for me. Thanks.

Another thing

Something else we discovered was that we actually have a sauna in our basement! Yes, a sauna!

Sounds exotic, doesn't it? Well...

Firstly, it's right next to the rubbish room. The smell leading to the whole experience is not really conducive to what I'd call "relaxing". Think: a very different kind of aromatherapy (leaning more towards aversion therapy, for all you Psychology buffs out there).

Secondly, there's no lock on the door.

When you go through the orange door with no lock, located just next to the rubbish room, you enter what looks like some kind of weird waiting room.There are hooks (on the wall) behind the door which leads to the next area, so one assumes that this is where one might disrobe (US/CAN: take off your clothes). If I remember correctly, I think that door has at least got a lock.

In the next room, immediately to your left, you see this:I have to admit that I'd never seen one of these before, and therefore have no idea as to what it could be for. It's about toilet-height, and almost toilet-shaped, but it's obviously not a toilet. Any ideas?

My guess would have been that it's for a mop, but I didn't see one around, and I somehow can't imagine people heading down to the sauna carrying their mops. But I don't know, maybe they do that here.

After nearly seven years of living in Sweden, I'm feeling like a total newbie again. Thanks, Malmö.

So, if anyone knows what that thing is, your comment is welcome.

Let's continue our tour, shall we?

Turn around from this toilet-like thing, and directly in front of you, at the end of this little tiled hallway, there's a shower.It looks clean enough, and there's nothing particularly nasty about it, but it just somehow feels grungy. Maybe it's just the environment. This whole thing is starting to look like the set of some gruesome horror flick.

Just before you get to the shower, however, there are two doors on your right.

The first one is the toilet.

It's not very clean, nor is it disgustingly dirty either. It's just not somewhere you'd want to sit and do the crossword.

Finally, the second door on the right; the one between the toilet and the shower, which is directly across from the weird toilet-like thing, which is just inside the door from the scary "waiting room", which is just through the orange door with no lock, which is right next to the rubbish room, is the sauna.I am by no means claustrophobic, but this place immediately creeped me out.

I'm not even sure if it was the size - with the prospect of being closed in with loads of steam everywhere - or if it was the thought of several years' worth of sweaty Swedish bottoms having dripped on these benches, but this place didn't appeal to me at all.

Here's the heater thing,

where you dump ladle-fuls of water to make the steam

(as seen from the top bench):

As it stands now, I can't really see myself going down there to "enjoy" a "relaxing" sauna.

But you never know; I may well get drunk enough one evening to want to give it a go. I'll keep you posted on that.

Bottom's Up

OK, so now we've been to my little corner of Hell. Let me now take up, up - way up - to a nice little piece of Heaven (or as close as I reckon I'll ever get anyway).

We have a rooftop terrace! OK, so we actually live on the ground floor, but this terrace is open for all residents to enjoy.

Sweden doesn't really have many of what one would call skyscrapers... I think the nearest thing is probably something called the Turning Torso, an odd-looking building which is apparently the tallest building in Scandinavia.

So this little rooftop paradise above the seventh floor (UK: sixth floor) is a pretty good ways up for this part of the world. And its size could make for some promising parties (although I'm not actually promising any parties).

It's kind of a C-shaped terrace...

Here's a view from one of the corners at the end

(facing the bit where the stairs are):

Here's a view from the other corner of the end bit

(facing where I was standing in the previous photo - you with me?):

And finally, here's a view from the other side, facing the end:

In the photo above, you can just about make out the water on the left (the Öresund or "The Sound" - it's a strait, in geographical terms), behind that building. You can actually see it better from up here, but I didn't take a shot from that angle.

But what's that odd building towards the right?

Yes, it's the aforementioned Turning Torso!

So there's loads of space up on the terrace, some tables that look like they're used for barbecues, and a decent view. Very good party potential. Maybe if I introduce myself to all of my neighbours, one of them might invite me to a party sometime! Or I suppose I could try to get a life and make some friends in Malmö.

What do you think?

Personally, I think that there should be more consistency with recycling in this country. Malmö should recycle all plastics and organic waste as well, so that they can make that fantastic bio-gas to run the buses, like they do in Helsingborg. It's time that the Swedish government did something about it.

That's what I think.

Wednesday, March 18th, 2009: So long Helsingborg, Hello Malmö

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 16:09:00 +0000

What I think:

It's the end of an era.

Last Saturday, my girlfriend and I moved from Helsingborg to Malmö.

It was a pretty smooth move, although Lucy Fur (the cat) was none too pleased about sitting in a little cat-box for the two hours it took us to get there, only to be locked in the bathroom while the guys moved our stuff in. But she's settled in now - although she has suddenly developed this odd desire to crawl under the duvet to sleep during the day.

Spot the bump.

When I mentioned the move to my friends (all two of them), some of them (Johnny) asked, "But what will happen to Helsingblog?"

Well, here you are - the blog is now Helsingbloggin' - Malmö.

I will still be commuting to Helsingborg a couple of times a week, for band rehearsals and the occasional meeting (I used to travel for the same length of time (about an hour) every morning and evening when I lived in London, so this is really no big deal); in fact, I'm sitting in the basement of the Telegrafen pub in Helsingborg as I write this.

I'm actually "piggy-backing" on the pub's wireless broadband.

(Well, they charge enough for the beer here anyway; that's my justification.)

There will still be many adventures to be had in Helsingborg, so there's no point in stopping the blog just because there's a train ride between the two cities. The main difference is that you will now get some information about both places - sort of a two-for-one blog. Good offer, innit-eh?

Also, there are now a few blogs about Helsingborg for you to look at (have a look in the sidebar on the right). I especially recommend Kieron's An Englishman in the Borg. He's been writing it since he found out he'd be moving here from the UK, and describes what he's learned so far... It's a personal blog, but it has some great insights about the "how's and why's" of moving/living here. Do check it out.

Back to this blog, apologies in advance for any inconsistencies you might find with the title. You may still see it listed as Helsingblog in a few places for a while; it'll take some time to track everything down.

So. It's been a while, hasn't it? What have I been up to since last time (besides moving)?

Well, here's a brief rundown (not necessarily in the right order:

London

My girlfriend and I went to London for a few days in January (I think). This time, we decided to do a bit of a touristy thing, as we usually just go down the pub to meet my friends, or hit the West End, Camden, and/or a couple of other areas. So we did the Big Ben, Buckingham Palace (etc.) thing for a change, just so we could say we'd done it.

Before setting off to the city centre though, we saw this cool ad on the side of a bus in Stoke Newington, paid for by some kind of Atheist organisation(s):

We liked that.

The next bit is pretty surreal...

We went to this place near Baker Street that has all these famous people hanging around, both living and dead. But the dead people seem to look better than the living, so we decided to talk to them.

I spoke to Charles Dickens, and told him about the pub in Helsingborg that's named after him, where I've spent many a fine drunken evening. He seemed quite pleased and generally jovial at first, but when he asked about what I'd been doing in London this time around, and I told him about that bus, he started going into a big rant about "morality today" and "in my day" - blah-blah-blah - and I felt I couldn't relate to him anymore.

Here's me telling Mr Charles Dickens about the Charles Dickens pub.

In Helsingborg. In London.

It started getting pretty ugly when we started discussing Theology in general. He became the Charles Dickens I wish I'd never known. He was waving his hands around like he was going to hit me, but in a girly-fight kind of way. Well, I couldn't stand for that, so I delivered a skillfully-placed left jab straight to his right cheek, and knocked the bugger out. Take that, you Pickwick Papers-pimping parasitic prima-donna.

Charles Dickens recovered rapidly, however, and was back on his little Victorian feet, and about to totally beat my scrawny arse, when Alfred Hitchcock came forward, doing his best Harry Enfield Scouser "Calm-down-Calm-down" routine...

Yes! Saved by the Master of Suspense - and with such brilliant timing!

I remembered then why I've always admired Hitchcock so much. It's the timing, you see.

(OK, I'm back in Malmö now, The dream is over.)

The Demo

On January 17th, I was having a nice quiet drink at the Charles Dickens pub (I'll never learn, will I?), when I noticed that there was a demonstration against Israel's bombardment of Gaza going on.

I had my camera, so I took some photos. Here are two, but I have more (although some are blurry):

CSI: Helsingborg - Live at Punkten

We got another gig at Pub Punkten on February 6th. Here's proof:

So, I took the opportunity to vandalise the southern part of the city.

First, I went to the movies:

Then I went to Helsingborg's cultural

centre - the library - and wrapped

up the fountain:

It turned out to be a great gig, especially since we turned the volume down this time, as requested, and fewer people's ears were bleeding at the end than last time.

Valentine's Day (bless)

On February 14th, I made a cheesecake.

I'd bought this brilliant recipe guide called Everything I Know About Cheesecake off Etsy.com, and it's brilliant. It's only five Yankee bucks, and well worth it.

I had already made the mocha swirl one a couple of times, but I thought I'd try a strawberry thing.

Here it is:

OK, so it may not look great (one has to take great care to make a gorgeous-looking cheesecake), but it tasted fantastic.

Love - Light in Helsingborg

From February 14th until the 21st, Helsingborg's city council had a pretty cool idea. This was to have various different landmarks around the city displaying different kinds of light.

This had varying results; some displays on some buildings just looked tacky, while others looked wonderful.

But I have to say that the projection/show they had on the castle-like-thing in the centre was very, very well done. It was a 10- or 15-minute animated projection display shown on this great landmark, and it was worthy of a few "oohs and ahhs" for sure. Thumbs up for that one.

I tried to take a video of it using my camera, but the result didn't do it justice. So here's a still, shamelessly stolen from the city's website:
Helsingborg Fashion - puh-lease...

While we were walking around, my girlfriend stopped at a shop window, stared in horror, and pointed at the display.

Let me take this step by step:

First, we have the not-quite-shorts/not-quite-trousers (US/CAN: pants) thing happening here:
I know I've mentioned this before (some scrolling involved), but this is something I do not like.

Guys: Keep your legs covered or don't. Make up your minds.

Then we have this:

The bow-tie. It's for the nerdy heroes in the background, who are starting to gain fame in some high-tech crime-solving TV shows. Hurrah for the geeks. Yeah.

I hate it, but OK, it's there; I can handle its existence (just about).

But this:

This... ensemble.... What event could anyone possibly imagine attending in this monstrosity of an outfit?

Write your answers on a postcard, then burn it.

CSI: Helsingborg - Live at Telegrafen

We got a gig at Telegrafen on February 27th. This was cool, as it was the first gig that was closest to the city centre, and one that many of my friends and acquaintances would be able to attend.

So I got busy with the crime scene tape a couple of nights earlier.
This photo was taken outside the Bishops Arms, while I was listening to this couple have a wonderful drunken argument:

Ahh, young love.

The gig itself turned out to be the best we'd ever had. Having mostly people we knew there probably helped, but we were definitely in top form anyway.

My girlfriend's parents even came to see the show. Wow.

She had specifically asked me to try to tone the language down a bit (apparently, I swear more than Johnny Rotten at the dentist's) so, after the first song, I said something like, "Listen up: my girlfriend's parents are here, so do me a favour and keep your f*cking language clean, awright?". Or something...

The show was a great success. We might even be allowed to play again within three miles of the place, within the next two years or so.

No, but seriously, it went very well. Here's a photo of a girl (whom I didn't pay - honest) who liked our show so much that she bought one of our t-shirts, and grabbed some CSI crime scene tape to wrap around her head and wrist:

The restraining order is in effect until August next year.

That's it.

It's almost 3:00 a.m. and I will now be publishing this post without reading it through, so apologies for the mistakes.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has been reading Helsingblog. I will continue the blog, but it will be a bit different. Maybe even more frequent than it has been lately.

I would also like to thank the Swedish government for doing nothing about it, as this is what I've come to realise that they're best at.

And welcome to Helsingbloggin' - Malmö.

That's what I think.

-> Learn more about Malmö here ->

Monday, December 29th, 2008: Aweigh with the ferries of Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 12:50:00 +0000

What I think:

After yet another successful gig at Trappa Upp in Höganäs (more on that later), we in the blues/rock cover band CSI: Helsingborg decided to have a Pissed Rehearsal tonight.

A Pissed Rehearsal is a rehearsal to which we bring loads of beer, and get drunk while playing. The logic behind this is that we will always have a good few beers before (and during) performing live, so we might as well get used to playing drunk.

Having said this, I always drink beer at rehearsals anyway. But the others don't usually drink much. Except for CSI: Nils; we usually meet at Charles Dickens before rehearsals and down a couple there.

We also usually invite friends to our Pissed Rehearsals, and end up having quite a little party. You'd like these things, I'm sure.

In any case (of beer), I needed to pick up a case (of beer) for the Pissed Rehearsal. Rather than go to the state-owned, over-priced, horrible alcohol monopoly Systembolaget, we in Helsingborg have a great little perk: the ferry.

I was hoping to go with a friend, but the Yank was busy, Badlands had already been out and was going to work today, another Yank had a "screaming child and a troublesome vagina" to contend with (I didn't ask for further details), and my new-ish Brit mate was in Gothenburg.

Scandlines operate a three-ferry service. A ferry leaves Helsingborg every twenty minutes, and arrives in Helsingör (in Denmark) twenty minutes later. Which ferry you catch depends on when you get to Knutpunkten (Helsingborg's central station for ferries, trains, and buses), and get your ticket.

Single (US/CAN: one-way) tickets are only 28 kronor (€2.52, £2.44, CAN $4.34,and about US$625.72). You only want to buy a single because you can buy beer on board, and Helsingör is crap this time of year. You just stay on the ferry and wait for it to return to Helsingborg.

You can only buy beer once you're in Danish waters, so buy it as you're either approaching or leaving Denmark. Smokers can buy cheap cigarettes in Swedish waters. You can only buy one pack from the shop (per ticket purchased), but you can usually buy more from the bar. But not always.

The names of the ferries are Hamlet (you can see "Hamlet's castle" as you approach Helsingör; Helsingör = Elsinore), Aurora, and Tycho Brahe. I got on Tycho Brahe.

Tycho Brahe was from this area of Sweden when it was part of Denmark. It's confusing, I know; read up on Skåne's (or "Scania's") history if you're interested, and/or on Tycho Brahe, if you give a hoot about this silver-snooted astronomer.

An interesting fact about the Tycho Brahe ferry: Did you know that this particular ferry has a Servicefart of 14,5 knob?I kid you not. I just learned that yesterday evening when I was on board. Here's proof:

Remember that; it could turn out to be very important information on this journey called "Life".

Tycho Brahe is actually my favourite ferry of the three. This is because there's a nice little closed-off smoking room in the bar area.

Yay.

And before any non-smoking militants start ranting, I'd like to share a quote from the late great Joe Strummer from The Clash: "Non-smokers should be banned from buying any product created by a smoker." There, that's you lot told.

Anyway, after boarding and climbing the stairs to the bar, to my utter dismay, I found it to be closed.

What!? OK, it was a Sunday, but it was early evening, for crying out excessively loudly.

I was not happy. I went back downstairs, bought a bottle of beer from whence they sell those red Danish hot dog things, went back up to the bar's smoking room, and sulked for a while.Then I had an idea: Why not do a "Top Toilet Tips"* about the ferry?

Here we go:

There are a few toilets on each ferry. It's only when it's very busy that you have to wait to relieve yourself. The gents' toilet on the bar/restaurant deck (Deck 5) looks like this:Because it was totally dead on this particular crossing, the toilet was nice and clean. It can get pretty nasty though, so be warned. The stalls are pretty basic.

But do you seen the little metal box in the top-right?

Here:

I like this. It's a special box for the junkies and self-harmers to dispose of their sharp objects, so as not to bring harm to others. I think it's a very nice and thoughtful touch. Bless.

The urinals also have a cool feature.

They're placed over a grill, which is (essentially) a large drain. So if someone "misses", you don't have to stand in their pee-puddle. Hell, you can even just open fire directly onto the grill, if you want to (but make sure you're alone. Trust me; it can be embarrassing otherwise).

So that's it. I can highly recommend the gents' toilet aboard Tycho Brahe, especially if you're a self-harming heroin addict who hasn't quite mastered the fine art of aiming your willy effectively.

So, that was fun. But I was still pissed off that the bar was closed.Then we finally got to Denmark, left Denmark, I went down and bought my beer from the shop (which, by the way, looks like a lot of duty-free shops you see in airports), bought another beer from the hot dog place. Found my way upstairs and had a smoke (see A Day In The Life by The Beatles), and felt much happier.

Mission accomplished.

The Gig

CSI: Helsingborg played at Trappa Upp in a town called Höganäs on December 19th. We weren't really sure whether many people would turn up, as it was the Friday before Christmas.

As it turns out, a British drummer friend of mine (from Mortice - check them out) turned up with his girlfriend. This is what it looked like just before we hit the stage:

Two of the people in that photo are in the band.

We actually ended up having a surprise opening act. One of the barmen decided to hit the dance floor to show us his bottle-juggling skills.

Tom Cruise, he was not.

He kept dropping bottles, but persevered for what felt like an eternity, until one of the bottles finally smashed of the floor. Great, we thought, he's done. But no, he simply went and got another one, and his performance continued for a further eternity-and-a-half.

Eventually, we got on stage and did our first set for our audience of two.It went really well anyway. And we were getting paid a really good amount of money for doing it, so no complaints from us.

More people started turning up just before we started our second set, which was nice. By the end we had a decent-sized crowd. And they seemed to like us as well, which was a bonus.

We ended our set with Neil Young's Rocking In The Free World. Some rather large female took it upon herself to steal CSI: Per's microphone to help us out on vocals during the choruses. CSI: Per is not a big guy, and he'd skipped the self-defense classes that every CSI is expected to take, so he was not going to argue.

She was adorable anyway. It was very cute the way that she sang "Keep on rockin' on the free world" in her extreme Swedish accent.

When we finished, and left the stage, she kept asking us if we know any Melissa Etheridge.

Er, no.

And we're finished. And we're not allowed back on stage. We're done. Finito.

She was not a happy jumbo-bunny.

So I gave her an XL CSI:Helsingborg t-shirt, and made her an honourary member of CSI: Helsingborg. That seemed to prevent any unfortunate squishing episodes.

Another brilliant gig that ended peacefully.

In summary, I think that the bars on the ferries should be open at least until 23:00 (11:00 p.m.), and it's time that the Swedish government did something about it. That's what I think.

* More Top Toilet Tips!

Tuesday, December 16th, 2008: CSI: Helsingborg to play at Trappa Upp in Höganäs on Friday, December 19th

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 16 Dec 2008 14:35:00 +0000

What I think:

We found out last Friday that the good people at the Trappa Upp bar/music venue in the small town of Höganäs enjoyed our show so much that they want us to play again this coming Friday. Short notice, but yay.

I went up there a couple of nights ago with our bass player, CSI: Per, to drop off some posters for the owner (at the pizza place; he owns both places).

It's not the best resolution here, but

this is what the latest poster looks like:

I thought that this would be a great opportunity to make use of some of our new crime scene tape, so we set about "cordoning off" random things in the central area of Höganäs.

We started off at the bike stand shelter (yes, there's a shelter for the bicycles) right next to the town hall, where we put tape on the sides...Then we did a few bits of some random fences around there, as well as some bins.

Here's one with CSI: Per's official CSI: Helsingborg cap on top. He thought it would be very artistic. Per is Swedish.There seems to be quite a few benches along one of the main roads on Höganäs, and not just at bus stops.

Where there were two or more in a row, we just had to wrap some CSI tape around one of their backs. Resistance was futile.Then we found a nice tree right near, what appeared to be, the central bus depot. Ideal.

We soon found out that Höganäs is a place with an obvious artistic flair.

Yes, it was much to our delight that CSI: Per and I discovered amazing statues of a few small piggies grazing by the side of the road.

One of them looked to me like the perfect little porcine crime scene. Come here, you.

I call it our Gig Pig. Perhaps we'll adopt her as our mascot. Yeah. And we can call her Giggle Piggy.

All in all, I think we covered a good wide area of central Höganäs (such as it is), and it's time that the Swedish government attended one of our gigs. That's what I think.

Friday, December 12th, 2008: The second snowfall and buying silly things in Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 14:31:00 +0000

What I think:

The second snowfall, errm, fell on Helsingborg. You may remember my post about the first one of this season. Some mystery joker, who probably lives in the building opposite ours, "wrote" in the snow.

It appears that this may now be a regular occurrence, as I just looked out the window a few minutes ago and saw this:

Yes, it's the word SEN upside-down. This is a bit more cryptic than the "STFU OMFG" we saw last time. Sen is Swedish for "late", but it's also commonly used as a shortened version of senare, which means later. (Here's a little Swedish lesson for you: sen, senare, senast mean "late", "later", "latest", respectively. Educational blog, or what!?)

While I did indeed wonder why someone would want to write "STFU" and "OMFG" in the snow, I could almost see the point. I took as a kind of a "No way! It can't be snowing, get outta here!" type of thing. But this one's got me baffled.

Is it some kind of message to one of my neighbours (US/CAN: neighbors) across the way; as in "I'll see you later"? Or could it be something more sinister? Hhmm...

Answers in the comments, please. The writer of the best one will win something. Sometime. If they're lucky.

Moving on...

I made a rather silly purchase recently - but first a bit of background:

My girlfriend and I live in a small flat, but we have a fair-sized glassed-in balcony. We put a single bed and a side table out there, so that we could use the balcony as a spare room during the summer (all 17 days of it), and a little smoking room year-round.

One problem was that it wasn't very attractive. So, my girlfriend decided to do something about it. Here's the "before" photo, with GF starting to do something about it:

And here's the "after" photo, taken yesterday:

Much better, isn't it?

We laid some good (but cheap) carpeting out there, on which Lucy Fur can sharpen her little toenails whenever she pleases (she hates scratching posts, for some reason), and it's more pleasant on one's feet in general.

The balcony's fine when it's not winter, but since this is only for about nine days out of the year, it can get very chilly out there, and the carpet doesn't keep one's feet warm, even with socks.

Since my teen years (i.e. when it became important to be "cool"), I've had an aversion to wearing slippers. Now that I'm in my forties, I don't want to wear them because (unreasonably), I'll feel old; you know, the old man with pipe, slippers and newspaper image. Shudderingly retro, in a bad way. Even if the pipe is now a bong.

BUT, then I saw something I thought would be quite funky. Some slippers that you stick in the microwave for 90 seconds before slipping them on.

Yes, I bought a pair of Slippies.

That's all my years of accumulated street cred destroyed in one fell swoop.

But they do work.

I have to say that I will normally only wear them when I go out on the balcony for a smoke, or when I'm sitting at my desk (which is right near the balcony door, so my feet do get cold).

But that's not because they're extremely uncool, but because they're not made for walking in. The soles are filled with flax seeds and some lavender essence (so your feet smell like an old lady's blue-rinsed hair), and walking in them feels like you're walking on a beach wearing socks & sandals. In fact, the text on the packaging indicates that they're not designed for walking in, as they don't have any grips on the soles.

While these Slippies are quite comfy, and indeed ideal for sitting out on a cold balcony for the duration of a cigarette, they're otherwise pretty useless items of footwear for wearing around the home.

So I nominate Slippies my silliest purchase of the year. I may just ask the Swedish government if they have any ideas for next year's silly purchase; they seem to be good at spending money on useless things as well.

So, what was YOUR silliest purchase of the year? Please do share.

Monday, December 8th, 2008: Music and mayhem in Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 16:21:00 +0000

What I think:

Well, it happened again today. Somebody came up to me, asked if I was Mark Base, and mentioned that she reads this blog. While this most often happens at PL13, this time it was at a bus stop in the south of the city. I had just finished rehearsing with a Christmas Choir (my former workplace has a few people who sing some songs at Christmas and Midsummer, and I agreed to continue playing guitar for them), and I was waiting for a bus to go home.

Meeting this girl made me realise that I haven't written anything for a while, so I thought I'd take this opportunity to bring you up to speed with things over here in the south of Sweden. Oh, by the way, "Hello girl from the bus stop!" (I do remember your name, but I'm not sure of how to spell it). Plus I'm not sure if you'd want to see it published here, even if I happened to get the spelling right.

Work-wise, I'm still mainly getting jobs from the company I used to work for, but I've had a couple of other things as well; most recently some voice-over work, which is fun. I'm actually going to Malmö tomorrow to do a bit more of that.

OK, that's work out of the way.

The end of October and the first couple of weeks of November were an exceptional time for music in Helsingborg. I'm hoping that this turns out to be some kind of trend; perhaps some decent bands won't always necessarily skip Helsingborg when going to do other gigs in the bigger cities elsewhere in Sweden, like Stockholm and Gothenburg. One can always dream.

CSI: Helsingborg in Höganäs

But first, a bit about my band, CSI: Helsingborg. We had a gig at a place called Trappa Upp (Upstairs) in a town called Höganäs, which is about a 20-minute drive north of Helsingborg. Trappa Upp is an odd place right in the middle of some sort of industrial estate. And, as the name suggests, it's up a flight of stairs. But once inside, it's actually quite a nice venue.

"Good evening. We're with the crime lab."

It turned out to be a really good gig, even though there were only about 20 people there (including bar staff). A bit odd for the Friday after pay day, but nevermind. It was great to see my burger-stabbing friend there with his girlfriend. They'd recently moved to Höganäs, and thought they'd come and check out the show. So, M. (the girlfriend) was the official photographer for the evening.

The Pink Floyd Project at The Tivoli

The following evening my girlfriend and I went to The Tivoli to see a Danish tribute band called The Pink Floyd Project.I can definitely say that this was the best show I'd seen during my time in Helsingborg, so far. The music, the visuals, everything was just... wow. I almost felt stoned watching/listening to them. Check them out; they got some stuff on YouTube. After the show, we went into the adjoining bar within Tivoli, the Vinyl Bar. It turned out that my bass player from CSI: Helsingborg (CSI: Per) was there with his lovely wife and a mate. So we had a few more beers.

After the show...

Then this guy suddenly appeared wearing a tiny Borat-style thong swimsuit, and with his hair in bunches.

Bless.

Apparently he was wearing it for a bet, but he was quite embarrassed for a while. But then he got used to the attention and decided to shake his exposed booty.No, it wasn't pretty.

I don't remember much more about that evening, and the photos remaining on the camera didn't give me much of a clue, but I don't think it was anything more exciting than this. Because this really looks pretty exciting, doesn't it?

A birthday party

The following week, I was invited to a party to celebrate the birthday of the drummer of my other band, Suckerbucket. I went with The Yank and another friend.

It wasn't exactly a surprise party, per se, as Mr Drummer's wife had made about 14,682 hors d'oeuvres, and had bought 687 bottles of bubbly. But we gave him a bit of a surprise when he opened his front door to find about 50 people singing Happy Birthday to him.

And there was another surprise in store for him anyway. Some of the guests had organised a little band to play Stevie Wonder's Happy Birthday. They even got some funky costumes together, and got Mr Birthday Drummer Guy to join in and bang a snare drum as well.

Quite an impressive performance. And visually, it almost rivalled The Pink Floyd Project.

But not quite.

Afterwards (i.e. after we'd polished off the 687 bottles of bubbly), The Yank, the other friend, and I went to Pub Punkten for a couple more beers. Then I went home, eventually.

Detektivbyrån

The following week, my girlfriend and I went to see another band at The Tivoli. This one was called Detektivbyrån (which translates to The Detective Bureau). They only play instrumental stuff, but it's pretty cool. It's sort of electronica mixed with vibes and accordion. It was impressive to see someone who could make an accordion actually look cool.The drummer had a funny bit as well... He was talking about how he had been taking sax lessons, so we thought that he'd be wowing us with his newly acquired saxophone skills... But sax is also Swedish for scissors, so we were treated to him using a pair of scissors as a percussion instrument.Believe it or not, he was pretty good with those things... And it was kinda cute when he came out from behind his drums to play them; there was a little tiny microphone attached to them. Bless.

All in all, a very enjoyable show. Apparently I'd have enjoyed it even more if I'd have understood the banter between songs.

The Cat

For no reason whatsoever, here's a photo of Lucy Fur, with her leg in the air, like she just don't care:

The Futureheads

OK, now I started to feel as though we were getting spoilt here in Helsingborg. The night after Detektivbyrån, the UK band The Futureheads played at the Tivoli.

To be honest, I hadn't heard much about them before. I moved to Helsingborg in 2002, and I think they really took off at some point after that. I don't listen to radio here, and have had very little contact with the music scene anywhere, really, besides doing stuff with my own little local cover bands, and anything people would randomly recommend.

It was an English guy from my old workplace who mentioned that The Futureheads were coming, and that they'd be worth checking out. He'd seen them a couple of times already, and said that they're worth checking out. So I watched a couple of things on YouTube, bought some of their stuff on iTunes, and yeah, liked them.

So why not?

The show was an absolute blast. These guys were here to play some great tunes, to party, and just generally have a bloody good time. MIssion accomplished.They enjoyed chatting to the crowd and talking absolute bollocks to/about each other. The bass player's tambourine bit was magic, and the lead singer's urgent exit for another bottle was sheer class. (OK, I may have a slightly different definition of class to some others'.)

Check these guys out; they do a brilliant version of Kate Bush's Hounds Of Love.

Have a look/listen to the video below:

CSI: Helsingborg at Pub Punkten

On November 28th, CSI: Helsingborg played at Pub Punkten, which is a little bar in the south of Helsingborg.

One thing I was pretty excited about was that I had ordered some proper crime scene tape; you know, the kind that they use to cordon off crime scenes? Well, I had some custom-made and sent over from some place in the UK.

So anyway, this CSI: Helsingborg crime scene tape arrived about a week before our gig, so I got to wrap it all over the place. I've got four rolls of 250 metres each; I could cordon off a whole kilometre if I wanted to. Haha! Brilliant!

Here's the door to Pub Punkten:

This was a great gig. There was quite a large crowd, and everyone seemed to enjoy it (with the exception of one drunken old lady with red hair (sponsored by l'Oréal) who claimed that it was too loud. I bought her a white wine; that shut her up for a while anyway).

There's this new-ish English guy in town whom I've started hanging out with a bit (another I met through this blog). I gave him my camera to take some shots, but the battery was pretty much dead, so he didn't manage to get many. Plus he left about fifteen minutes before we finished, as he felt that he was starting to get very drunk. Ah well. Anyway, great gig, great fun.

Our next confirmed gig is at Telegrafen pub on February 27th, but we may play in Höganäs or at Punkten again before then. We shall see.

Another blogger in Helsingborg

By the way, before I forget... A while ago, I mentioned another Helsingblog reader who was thinking about moving here from Manchester. Well it turns out that he is indeed moving here. Coincidentally, I mentioned him in my post about Helsingborg-based bloggers; it turns out the he's started a blog as well. Be sure to check out Kieron's An Englishman in the Borg, where he gives us a weekly update of what he's learning about moving to Helsingborg.

I think that when CSI: Helsingborg play, any old ladies with fake red hair and seriously crap attitudes should be banned or, better still, imprisoned - at least for the duration of the performance. It's time that the Swedish government did something about it.

That's what I think.

Friday, November 21st, 2008: The first snowfall of 2008 - no snowmen in Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 14:31:00 +0000

What I think:

Well, it finally happened.

It snowed today.

Winter is well and truly here in Helsingborg.

It was odd though, because it was actually a sunny day when it started snowing.

I took a few photos from our balcony to show you the progress over about a relatively short period of time (although I can't exactly say what it's relative to).

Here's the first one:

See? Sunny!

But not for long.

You can see the ground really starting to get covered here...

And then it turned into a little blizzard.

Try this at home: go to a mirror and say the word "blizzard" over and over again for five minutes and forty-three seconds. An amazing thing will happen. (Not really, you'll just look and sound like a total lunatic.)

Finally, it stopped, leaving a nice white layer. Even without the sun, it feels slightly brighter when there's a bit of snow on the ground, don't you think?

But when I looked out a while later,

I discovered that we have a comedian in the area:

Yes, someone had taken the liberty of writing OMFG and STFU in the snow. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with abbreviations on the Internet these days, OMFG stands for Octopuses Make Funny Gargoyles (I would have said Octopi myself, but this is the official thing, OK?), and STFU stands for Stubborn Tortoises Fart Upwards.

Even though I'm by no means a big fan of winter, the first snowfall is always nice. I think it's disgraceful how some people go and ruin the moment by scrawling animalistic nonsense in the beautiful purity of the freshly fallen fluffy stuff, and it's time that the Swedish government did something about it.

That's what I think.

Tuesday, October 28th, 2008: Back in time in Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 09:27:00 +0000

What I think,

The clocks went back this weekend.

Yes, I suddenly decided I didn't like our clocks, so we brought them back to the Clock Shop.

But when we got our fancy new ones home, we found that they were all exactly one hour slow. Modern technology, eh?

Being the hyper-intelligent, mega-brainy guy that I am, I decided to just live with the erroneous time shown on my clocks, and turn up for my various appointments an hour earlier than agreed, as per my clocks' time. Smart, eh?

Being the mega-intelligent, hyper-brainy guy that I am, I have many large, complex, and difficult books (with lots of big words in them) to read anyway, so I don't mind waiting; in fact, I enjoy waiting sometimes. Because I like to read books with many big words in them. Because I'm intelligent, brainy, and mega-hyper.

And because I usually like to turn up about ten minutes before any appointed time, I was actually an hour and ten minutes early for my first meeting.

But within ten minutes, when I was just finishing reading my fourth word, other people started turning up as well. This was a bit frustrating, frankly. But since I'm nearly as tolerant and agreeable (not to mention generally very nice) as I am vastly knowledgeable, I ignored this apparent ignorance of the other participants, and went along with the impromptu earlier meeting time.

But at the end of our meeting, when I mentioned that I was surprised that everyone else was nearly as early as I was, they said, "Didn't you know? The clocks went back."

So I said, "Yours too?"

I think it's outrageous that there's such widespread shoddy craftsmanship of clocks in this country, and it's (well beyond) time that the Swedish government did something about it. That's what I think.

Sunday, October 19th, 2008: Blogging about bloggers in Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 13:06:00 +0000

What I think:

The darkness came early this year. And I don't mean that a British glam rock band popped up to Helsingborg and ejaculated prematurely; it's almost pitch-black by 7 p.m. these days, and we haven't even put the clocks back yet. Bummer.

I was at PL13 last night (which remains the coolest little bar in Helsingborg), and this British guy came up to me and told me that he had read this blog before moving here a couple of years ago. I always seem to meet people at PL13 who've read my blog. It's obviously where all the grooviest people go in this city.

Then I went outside for a smoke, and met an Irish girl who lives in Copenhagen. We were chatting a bit, and I told her about that guy inside, and she told me that she's read my blog as well. Wow.

I've come to realise that quite a few people actually read this blog to get insider information about what it's like to live in Helsingborg. So it's "mission accomplished" for me.

But there's still so much to write about. Do you ever get this feeling where you have so many ideas, and you feel all inspired and creative, and you just want to sit there for hours and hours and write loads and loads of stuff? Me neither.

But there are more pub toilets to review, more anecdotes about little bothersome things about life in this little city to tell, and more fun to be had.

I thought I'd say a few words about some fellow bloggers here in Helsingborg. I met one of them last night, as it goes.

Meet "Amy".

Amy has a blog (in Swedish) called Sweet Things in Life. She writes about things she likes. Having had another look today, it appears that Amy likes recipes, furry animals, and beauty products. She's sweet.

Oh, by the way, I had a visit from another of my readers the other week. Kieron might be moving here from Manchester for work. He got in touch so that we could go out for a few beers and chat about life in Helsingborg.

No visit would be complete without a trip on the ferry, so off we went.

Kieron says that Helsingborg is pretty much everything he expected. I haven't quite worked out whether this is a good thing.

Back to bloggers.

A good Yank friend of mine here has started a website with a buddy of his who lives in the States. If you're into American Football, and especially the jerseys the players wear, you'll simply adore Football Fasion Fanatics. Ken and his pal Rich are total nutcases, and their site/blog (what they call a slog) is an absolute hoot and a half. Ish.

Here's a photo of one of Ken's ears, taken at the Helsingborg festival this summer: Anyway, do check out their slog. It's funny even if, like me, you don't know your quarterback from your jock strap.

Another amusing Helsingborg blog is Screaming in Sweden. It's worth a look. The girl who writes it has some pretty special views on things.

The girlfriend and I went to Stockholm a couple of weeks ago. We went to attend an "After Work" party that was organised by the people at The Local (Sweden's news in English). We stayed at John and Sofia's place - two other regular posters on The Local's discussion forum. Another friend (and fellow blogger), Miss Kitten, stayed there as well. It was good to meet up with a load of people up there, most of whom I only know through the forum and facebook.

Here's Miss Kitten being a total tourist in Stockholm:

Isn't she nice? She lives in Gothenburg, which about three hours north of Helsingborg, also on the west coast. Do check out her blog: The Further Adventures of Miss Kitten.

There was much partying going on in Stockholm. While my girlfriend was doing all the shops, Miss Kitten and I sat outside a pub, and I think I had about 7 beers.

A bit tipsy was I, oh yes.

But later on, we met up with Seventiesdreamer for a bite to eat. And more alcohol.

Here's me with more alcohol:

I don't now how the topic came up, but we started talking about mushroom picking. Seventiesdreamer lives near some woods where you can find some nice mushrooms. I told her about my experience of magic mushroom picking in Wales.

There was a large field with loads of magic mushrooms scattered around. After about an hour of walking around hunched over and picking these things some of the psilocybin got absorbed through the pores in the skin of my hands, and I started to feel slightly odd. But I just carried on in a trance-like state, until I looked up and saw this enormous cow's head right in front of me. MOO! Gave me a hell of a shock.

For some reason, Seventiesdreamer found this completely hilarious. She laughed for six minutes and forty-three seconds. I actually managed to snap a photo of her laughing at my misfortune. And she wasn't even drunk. Bitch.

The next day, girlfriend and I went for a wander in Gamla Stan (the old town). We found a nice little place and had a coffee and cake. We thought the menu outside was quite interesting.I'm not so sure I like the idea of smelling like a mushroom.

So then it was back to Helsingborg and the "real world".

Here's another photo of Helsingborg's City Hall,
with the obligatory bloke on the horse in front
I like that building.

In other news, CSI: Helsingborg have a few gigs lined up!

Yes, we're playing in some crap little town called Höganäs on October 31st, on November 28th we'll be at a bar called Punkten in Helsingborg's beautiful south, and at Telegrafen pub on February 27th.

Oh, and my foot's fine now, thanks. I'm limping a bit, but the crutches are gone, and the beer looks after any residual pain I sometimes have.

I think that more people should be encouraged to blog. It's a lot of responsibility for one 5'-7" British-Canadian to have to bear the burden of educating the rest of the world about life in Helsingborg. It's time that the Swedish government did something about it. That's what I think.

Saturday, September 6th, 2008: Eventful gigs in Helsingborg and Bjuv

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 06 Sep 2008 10:03:00 +0000

What I think:

After coming back from holiday (US/CAN: vacation), I had a few gigs lined up, so I was kept busy with rehearsals.

I was to play at an IKEA party in Helsingborg with Suckerbucket on the Thursday, September 28th (with a guest appearance for a couple of duets with Twisted Systems - the other IKEA band here in Helsingborg).

I also had a couple of gigs with CSI: Helsingborg in the tiny town of Bjuv; one as part of the festival, and one at a restaurant/bar which is located right in the middle of where the festival was taking place.

On the Thursday evening
Twisted Systems were first to take to the stage, and they did a great job. They're all good musicians, and are pretty tight.

Here's a photo (Left to right: Boy, Boy, Girl, Boy, Girl):

I think they're actually the better band, but they had to go on first, as Sven (our lead guitarist) was just coming back from a business trip in Stockholm (doesn't sound very Rock 'n Roll, does it?), and couldn't make it early enough for us to open.

But eventually Sven turned up, and before long we were all tuned up and ready to rock. Yay.

The set was going pretty well.

Here's a rather unflattering photo of the set going pretty well:

I was really getting into it; having a great time. During the guitar solo on "Hard To Handle", I even hopped off the stage to dance around a bit. Loads of fun..

But then disaster struck. When I went to hop back onto the stage, my foot didn't quite land flat on it; it kind of hit the edge.

Crack. Oops. Ouch. Agony.

I'd done something to my right foot. But I managed to hobble back onto the stage, and continued the set.

I'm not sure if this was taken before of after the big snap!

Marcus, our bassist, kept saying that we should stop playing (bless him), as I kept whispering to him that I was getting these intermittent waves of nausea, but I was determined to carry on.

So we carried on until the bitter end. I think we went over quite well, but I was in a bit of a world of my own by that point, so I couldn't be sure.

Luckily, Claudia (the singer from Twisted Systems) managed to find me some pain killers, and my girlfriend was there to get me to the hospital.

I know I've got only myself to blame (I was a wee bit tipsy, of course), but there's one thing that I believe was another contributing factor:

At this party, they were selling beer and wine, both for 35 Kronor each (about US$5 / £3 / €3.70). Normally, I find that four beers is a good amount to have before going on stage; I lose any nervous edge I may have, I'm feeling confident and energetic, and I'm nowhere near drunk enough to screw up.

So I had a beer. Then I had another. By the third one, I realised that I wasn't really feeling much, so I checked the bottle: 3.5%. I was drinking piss-weak beer!

I found this quite annoying, because when I have a beer, I have certain expectations of what that beer will do. And it wasn't happening. So I decided to go for the wine instead... Look at it this way: for three quid, they were offering a coice between 3.5% beer or 12% wine. Yes, of course the quantities were different (you weren't getting half a litre of wine), but the alcoholic proportions per volume were way off.

Anyway, needless to say, I went onto the wine. And perhaps in a bigger way than I would have done if I'd have realised from the start that the beer was crap. So, while I'm by no means making excuses or blaming anyone else for my folly, it's all their bloody fault.

So.... My girlfriend brought me to the hospital. Because it was fairly early on a Thursday night, it didn't take too long to get seen. The doctor felt my foot in different places; some hurt, some didn't so much, and I was able to wiggle my toes, so she established that I had broken a few small bones in my foot. She said that I should rest it a bit, but try to keep putting some weight on it, if possible.

They wrapped a bandage around it, and sent me on my merry way.

Friday
On Friday morning, I was in pain. My foot was swollen, and there was lots of weird bruising (which, I was later told, is normal). The bruising is still there as I write this; mostly on my toes, for some reason.

My girlfriend stopped by the hospital on her way home from work to get some crutches for me. I had been told that I should try to put some weight on my foot, but this was proving impossible, and I had a gig to get to.

The CSI: Helsingborg team picked me up at about 6 p.m. (SWE: 18:00), and we went to our rehearsal space to pick up our equipment. I sat outside (drinking proper beer) while they heaved everything onto the trailer.

Bjuv is about a 20-minute drive from Helsingborg (with a trailer). When we got there, a couple of the guys went and found me a bar stool to use on stage, as there was no way I'd be able to stand for the whole performance

CSI: Helsingborg was supposed to start at 8:00 (20:00), but the band before us took their time, so we didn't actually start on time. But there was a good atmosphere...

Here's CSI: Bengt, CSI: Me, and CSI: Per

And here's CSI: Nils, CSI: Bengt, And CSI: Me

Bjuv is the home of Findus Frozen Foods, and they usually have a Miss Pea contest. Last year, I asked the question: When Miss Pea is crowned, do we actually call her "Miss Pea", or are we expected to use the more formal "Your Royal Pea-ness". I asked again this year, and again this year, no one got it. Bjuv is not exactly a bustling cosmopolitan metropolis, so English is not such a big thing there.

Bjuv does have some quirky and fun people though. I was thrilled and amazed to see our Number One Fan from last year there. He was the old guy (our only dancer, for the most part) in the blue cowboy hat with the nicely coordinated socks in his sandals. See photos here and here.

And there he was this year as well! Brilliant!

Sorry about the blurry photo; he was boogying far too much to get a decent shot. Cool effect on his companion though, don't you think?

As you can see, he'd swapped his cowboy hat for a baseball cap, and he was wearing proper shoes as well. I must say, it looked much better. Took years off him.

This year, we also had a few younger fans who were hanging out by the stage. My girlfriend snapped this little cutie for us:

Bless.

We had a great show, everyone was happy, blah-blah-blah.

Afterwards, I sat with a few friends who'd come to the show, and got down to some (more) beers. There was a good friendly vibe all round.

At one point, someone from our entourage suddently pointed to a table behind me, where a couple of ladies were dancing on a table, doing a bit of striptease thing. Oh, dear.

Again, sorry about the blurry images; it was a bit dark, and these two were gyrating rather frantically:

Yep, those Bjuvians know how to have a good time.

Saturday
On Saturday night, we were to provide the music for Bjuv's Restaurang Hörnan (The Corner Restaurant), from 7:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m. (19:00-01:00). This meant that we'd perform five sets over the course of the evening, and have my iPod running a specially-prepared playlist in between (the preparation of which was how I spent my Saturday afternoon).

It was rather a strange set-up, actually. They had a wooden deck/terrace outside the restaurant, over which they'd made a kind of tent out of white tarpaulin stuff. At one end of this tented terrace, they had a sideways-parked trailer, with tarpaulin and lights on a structure they'd attached to it. That was the stage.

Here's CSI: Bengt setting up, with CSI: Nils in the background:

Here's one of the guys setting stuff up on the "stage":

And here's one of me not helping them with all this:

OK, this gig was really fun. Obviously the crowd changed throughout the evening, and I had to make several announcements about us not doing requests.

Having said this, there was one sweet girl who came up and asked if we could play some kind of birthday song for her sister's boyfriend who'd just turned 21. So we made an exception and attempted "Birthday" by The Beatles, which we'd never tried before. The one verse we managed was OK, and everyone was happy.

There were a few people I knew there, and a Blackfoot Indian harmonica player, "Ironman" (who'd played with very famous people like Gordon Lightfoot and James Taylor) came up and accompanied us on a couple of numbers. Good stuff.

Oh, and at one point, during applause between songs, a young lady sitting near the front made some kind of gesture I didn't really catch at first. Initially, I thought she was trying to indicate that she wanted a cigarette. Or a beer. It was only after I actually asked her if she wanted a cigarette or a beer that I realised that she was actually offering me something. It dawned on me that I was being offered something that a White House intern might offer a mid-90's American President.

That was a first. And a pretty interesting one at that.

It was a very good evening; loads of fun, free pizza and beer, and we got paid 5,000 Kronor between us. Yay!

I got home at stupid o'clock in the morning, and woke up in agony. My foot was sore, and my arms and shoulders were aching from the crutches; it had never occurred to me that they were such a workout.

And I couldn't speak.

I'd never lost my voice before, and it was a weird feeling. Later in the evening, I could just about squeak a bit (much to my girlfriend's amusement - oh yes, there were indeed many moments of sheer hilarity. Bitch), but it wasn't until Tuesday that I had any semblance of my former self.

Now, about a week later, my voice has fully recovered, my upper torso isn't aching anymore, and I'm able to walk using one crutch. Thanks to my great friend (The Yank), I also have some decent pain killers (something that's very difficult to get in Sweden).

Would I do it all again? Well, losing my voice for a day or so wasn't such a big deal. I'm not so sure about the breaking of the foot. I think that if places are going to sell beer and wine at the same price, the beer should be of a strength that one would expect to find in bars and not your local supermarket. This should never happen, and it's time that the Swedish government did something about it. That's what I think.

Monday, August 25th, 2008: Helsingborg to Glasgow to Montreal to London

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 07:13:00 +0000

What I think:

I just got back last Thursday night after a two-week trip. The main purpose of the journey was to attend a 26th-year high school reunion in Montreal, but I had been incessantly nagged by a friend to visit her in Glasgow for the past few years so, since I had to fly via London anyway (no direct flights to Montreal from Copenhagen), I thought I'd take the opportunity to make a detour up to Glasgow, as I had never been, and was pretty much passing by, and boy-oh-boy this was a long sentence (*stops for breath*).

My girlfriend and I got on the ferry from Helsingborg to Helsingör (that's Elsinore, home of Hamlet's castle, for all you Shakespeare buffs) with our backpacks, went up to the sun deck, sat down and started eating the sandwiches we'd bought. So far so good.

Then there was this bloody wasp buzzing around. I waited for it to land on the table and swatted it with a napkin. Got him. Or did I? Nope. There was a bit of a gap between my fingers, and the little bugger crawled out, stung me, and flew away. Great start to the holiday (US/CAN: vacation).

I couldn't remember if I'd ever been stung by a wasp before, so I became very conscious of all sensations; waiting to go into anaphylactic shock or something. As it turned out it just, well, stung. And burned a bit. And it cost me most of my sandwich, as I'd freaked out and frantically swatted the air with both hands, flinging bits of cheese and lettuce everywhere. Oh what fun. My girlfriend laughed sympathetically, a talent which I believe only she possesses.

By the time we got to Helsingör and boarded the train to Kastrup (Copenhagen airport), any pain I felt had all but disappeared; it was just a bit uncomfortable.

Glasgow
To get to Glasgow, we had to fly from Copenhagen to London Stansted, then board another flight. All in all, it was nicely uneventful; no major delays, and a pretty seamless transfer between flights.

We got to Glasgow fairly late, and were collected by my friend and her boyfriend. When we got to her place, we sat up chatting and drinking beer until about two in the morning before going to sleep on a comfy sofa-bed.

Over the next couple of days, my friend, the perfect hostess, guided us around Glasgow. Between the 4,693 shops my girlfriend visited, we saw some pretty interesting buildings. We also saw restaurants with some pretty interesting claims.

One would expect to see places claiming to have "the best":

... but there were also some other, rather different, claims.

This one was reassuring:

... and we admired the honesty of this one:

I mean, everyone has a bad day from time to time, right?

We saw a type of busker that you probably wouldn't see very many of outside of Scotland:On the Friday night, we went out to a restaurant owned by a friend of our hostess. He had a nice smile, and an even nicer t-shirt:Then we went to a couple of pubs until closing, headed back, and went to bed.

The next day, we were going to see Glasgow's impressive Necropolis (a fancy word for an extravagant graveyard). On the way, I went into a shop to buy a lottery ticket; something I do when I visit the UK - you never know, right? (I didn't win, by the way.) When I came out, girlfriend and hostess were admiring the window display of this rather ordinary little shop:We thought that the amount of care and effort that went into this was quite charming, in an endearingly silly way.

We then paid a visit to an old house:

Inside, there were old things. There were also a couple of musicians dressed in costumes of the period. But we caught them during their lunch break. It was quite amusing to see people from the 15th Century munching away on hot dogs.

There was also an old pub (the Crystal Bell, Gallowgate):

The Necropolis was indeed very impressive. Have a look here ->

Here's a statue of some bloke called Charles Tennant:

He was an industrialist and chemist, who apparently discovered bleaching powder. Wannabe blondes the world over owe him their gratitude.

We also visited Glasgow's Cathedral, which was very grand, and walked past the university.

At one point, I saw a sign that I just had to pose next to, being a Base myself.After that, we went back to my hostess's place, where she started to prepare a nice roast chicken dinner for our final evening.

We managed to distract ourselves for a while by messing around with a wig belonging to Morag, a long-lost mannequin. Here's me looking oh-so-groovy, don't you think?The beer and wine were flowing, so it wasn't long before we started humiliating her cats as well. Inspired by the I Can Has Cheezburger? phenomenon, we took a few photos and made up silly captions:OK, so this type of humour is not to everyone's liking, but we found it hilarious.
Nothing like beer, wine and guffawing at silly cat pics to get the party going, eh?

Our hostess had also dug up some old photos.

Here's one of us from 1982:

We decided to try to recreate the moment, as best we could. After much direction from girlfriend - and several tries (we love the age of digital photography), here's what we came up with:After a lovely meal, it was soon off to sleep, as we had to catch a plane to London Gatwick at stupid-o'clock in the morning.

Once again, the flight from Glasgow and the transfer to the Montreal-bound plane were pretty smooth. There was a delay of over an hour, but that's pretty much what I expect these days. Bastard airlines.

Montreal

So we got to Montreal a bit later than expected on Sunday evening, but my mother and brother were at the airport to meet us. Cool...

The plan was to stay at my parents' place on the West Island on Sunday night, then go to our friends' place in Verdun ("Dr Trinidad" & fellow blogger Maggie's - closer to downtown) the following day, as my friend Terence (of The Vestibules and On The Spot Improv) was going on holiday on the following day, and Monday night was the only chance we'd get to see him.

It was also a good opportunity to celebrate Dr Trinidad's birthday, which had taken place over the weekend. The waitress had kindly taped a birthday candle to the side of a pint glass for him. Bless.

Here's a rather scary shot of us goodfellas from the night:

Since we didn't have too much time in Montreal this time round, the girlfriend and I decided to do a few touristy things. She'd never been to the Olympic Stadium, so we thought we'd pay a visit.We took the cable car to the top of the tower and got a nice view of Montreal's skyline - even though it was a bit far off.

We'd planned to grab a beer at one of my favourite bar/clubs, Foufounes Électriques...

... but it was a bit early, and they were working on a mural on the outside wall, so it was closed.So we continued along Ste Catherine Street.

We liked the name of this sex shop:

... but we didn't bother going inside; we can make our own romance, even after 96 weeks together (it's true!).

A couple of nights later, I was walking to the train station to head back downtown, and spotted this estate agent's sign:Did you know that in 2007, Cowboyd was "#29 out of 3,001 REMAX agents in all of Quebec" ? And that his son "JAMES" is now an agent too? Well, his helpful website tells us so.

Although I can't quite work out why he felt the need to name his son all in capitals and with quotation marks. I wonder what "JAMES" 's birth certificate looks like.

And here's the luxury property he's selling now:

Truly everyone's image of a dream home, to be sure.

On the Friday, we were walking around in Old Montreal, and spotted the Amphi-Bus stand. It's basically a bus/boat, which drives around Old Montreal (with a guided tour) then goes out onto the St Lawrence River. We couldn't resist. Even at the costly price of $32 CAN each (which is about, oh, around $450 US these days, I guess), it had to be done.

It was actually quite fun, although it started raining just as we were about to hit the water... But at least it was covered; the other vehicle was an open-topped thing. Suckers.

Actually, it's worth mentioning that we were extremely lucky, weather-wise, during our stay. There were some fierce storms, but we always seemed to be sheltered whenever they hit - and they never lasted very long.

The big high school reunion thing was nice. It was a fairly informal affair, mainly scraped together by people hooking up through facebook. Quite fun. I guess there were about 50 people there. Some people had changed quite dramatically, but many had hardly changed much at all.

Here are some mandatory photos... Ladies first:

... and here are some chaps I'm very reluctant to call "gentlemen":

It was held at a restaurant/bar called Babaloo on the West Island, right next to a bar/nightclub called Bourbon Street West . If you do check out their websites, they both have cheesy music (just to warn you).

After the meal, many of us went next door to continue with the festivities. There was a band there called Hit Parade. They were really good (technically), but they played all the stuff you thought (and hoped) that you would eventually forget. Thanks guys.No, actually it was quite good.

So, all in all, Montreal was a great time.

Next stop: London.

London

We arrived at Gatwick pretty much on time (around 10-ish on Tuesday morning). Our London hostess was out of town, so we stopped by at our host's (her friend/tenant's) workplace in Highbury & Islington to pick up the keys. Then we took a cab straight to the house in Harringay, and had a nap for a few hours.

We were only in London for a couple of days, but I wanted to see as many people as possible during our stay. So we went to eat at a local restaurant/bar (The Garden Ladder) owned by some friends, as I knew there would be some of my old friends there. Sure enough, there were. It was nice.

Then we went to a pub which is run by another friend, where we met up with a few more people, including one of my hosts (who's also one of my bestest friends in London). A good evening.

During the walk back to the house, girlfriend was impressed with how neatly the fruit and veg were stacked at this particular shop.

Nice, innit?

The next day, we went to Brick Lane, as I wanted to get some cheap Doc Martens at a shop just off there, and the girlfriend wanted to go to Rough Trade records. We walked around a bit there, I had a few pints at a pub while she went to some retro clothes shop, and we headed to a Wagamama (Japanese restaurant) in the West End.

We'd arranged to meet up with a couple of other friends, including Roland - the guy who likes stripes - at the new Intrepid Fox in Soho. It was an OK place, but nothing like the original one.

After a while, we found it a bit loud in there - just not conducive to chatting - so Roland suggested that we go to the Pillars of Hercules pub. It was a good choice.

There was a guy there called DeeJay Wheelie Bag. This guy:

He has to be seen to be believed. Check out his website ->

He plays old 45's of all kinds of strange and unusual music; mostly "Authentic RnB, Rockabilly and Jamaican Ska" from his "original shopping trolley sound system". Another good night.

The next day, we had planned to go to Camden, but we slept in until after 1:00 p.m. (oops) and just had enough time to go for breakfast before heading off to Stansted.

We got to Copenhagen after 9:00 p.m., took the train and ferry to Helsingborg, stopped at 7-11 for milk, and cabbed it home. Phew.

We spent the weekend recovering, and now it back to work for both of us. I've also got some gigs coming up next weekend, so it's going to be quite hectic.

I'm playing with Suckerbucket on Thursday night at some kind of IKEA party - as well as doing a couple of duet songs with Twisted Systems (the other IKEA band).

Then CSI: Helsingborg return to Bjuv to play at their festival there on Friday night. We're returning to Bjuv on Saturday night to play at a restaurant/bar between 7 p.m. until 1 a.m. We'll be doing five sets, but bringing CD's to play between them.

Estate agents should not be allowed to wear cowboy hats, and the Swedish government must ensure that this never happens here.

That's what I think.

Sunday, August 3rd, 2008: Doggy do's and don't's in Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 03 Aug 2008 14:19:00 +0000

What I think:

Well, it's been two whole years since I've written about dog poop in Helsingborg.

It's time for an update.

I was walking to the Charles Dickens pub before a band rehearsal the other day, and saw this amazing thing on the pavement (US/CAN: sidewalk):

Glömt nåt? is Swedish for "Forgotten something?"

I thought that this was very well done, but I would have preferred to get a photo of a dog pooping on the representation of poop. Now that would have been classy.

That's what I think.

Friday July 25th, 2008: Letting it all hang out at Helsingborg's Festival, 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 15:10:00 +0000

What I think:

Just about every medium-to-"large" town and city in Sweden has a festival at some point during the summer months. Helsingborgsfestivalen started last night, so the girlfriend and I went to check it out.

During the festival, many streets are closed off, and there are several stages dotted across the city, with all sorts of different music - something for everyone. They're not all brilliant, but depending on what you're into, many are worth checking out. It's really the only time that Helsingborg really comes alive, and has a good sparkly atmosphere. People are relaxed and chilled out; they just let it all hang out.

There were a few bands/artists that my girlfriend specifically wanted to see last night, so off we went. It was a great evening for it; pleasantly warm, and not a nasty cloud in the sky (just a few of those nice white fluffy ones).

The first gig we were to see was Mikael Wiehe and Ebba Forsberg. They're kind of folky. My girlfriend's parents also wanted to see it, so we had arranged to meet them - and a couple of friends who were visiting from Motala - at a monument nearby.

Unfortunately, by the time we made our way to the makeshift "venue", the band was just finishing their last song. But they did a three-or-four-song encore, so that was OK. It wasn't really my cup of tea, but it was nice anyway.

Because the evening had just begun, there weren't very many people around, as you can see from this photo:

When this finished, we decided to get something to eat. One of our visitors, the Pregnant One had a craving for something called Langos. I'd never heard of these before, and I'm always into trying new things, so we walked to a stall that sold them.While my girlfriend, her mum (US/CAN: mom), and the Pregnant One went to get their food, Girlfriend's dad (US/CAN: the same) , the Not-Pregnant Guy and I found some seats at a picnic bench.

But them something caught my eye. Sitting in front of me, to my left, was this guy.Now there's a guy who really knows how to party and let it all hang out. He was sitting there sipping from a can of strong lager without a care in the world, bless him.

When it was our turn to get our food, I couldn't resist snapping a closer shot of this magnificent specimen of bottom-cleavage.I know it's terribly juvenile, but I can't help "cracking" up at the sight of this. I particularly like the little strand of underpant thread on his right cheek. I consider this composition to be a genuine work of art.

Surprisingly, I was not put off my food after having witnessed this public display of grotesquery. I went for the langos deluxe. It tastes much better than it looks:It's basically some kind of flat-but-puffy bread-like stuff, with a similar texture to that of a plain deep-fried doughnut with a choice of toppings. Mine had prawns (US/CAN shrimps), crayfish (US/CAN: crawfish), and what the Swedes call "Kaviar". It is in fact caviar, but I guess it comes from cheaper fish than sturgeon.

Afterwards, we said goodbye to my girlfriend's parents, and headed of to see someone called Tingsek. Technically, the band was pretty good and tight, but we all thought that it sounded like they were trying to sound like Jamiroquai. We were sitting quite a distance from the stage, in an enclosed beer & food area, but I managed to sneak off for a moments and get close enough to take a few good photos. Here's one:After that, the Pregnant One and her Not-Pregnant boyfriend decided to call it a night, so the girlfriend and I went to another gig at a marquee that was constructed on Gröningen, which is sort of a grassy beach area near the water.

There we saw Pelle Ossler and his band. I thought they were brilliant, even though Ossler was born in Bjuv. Very unique, in kind of the same way that The Pixies are unique, if you know what I mean. My girlfriend reckons that his style would go down well in German alternative music clubs. I think that means she thinks it's good.

I spotted another fine example of Swedish fashion, and I know that a number of readers depend on me to bring them the latest trends from Scandinavia, so here you are:I think that this is the best time of the year to be in Helsingborg. I would recommend coming over during Helsingborgsfestivalen to anyone. But I wish there were more carefree people here exposing their hairy bottoms; it would make the Festival complete. The Swedish government should do something about it; maybe promote this way of dressing in a poster campaign, and maybe offer prizes for the most imaginative uses of underpant thread.

That's what I think.

Tuesday, July 8th, 2008: A Swedish Wedding - not in Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 10:43:00 +0000

What I think:

Last Saturday, I went to a wedding with my girlfriend. It was the matrimony of a couple of friends she's known for a number of years.

The wedding itself was to take place in a church in a town with an unpronounceable name, near a town called Höör, which I would wrongly (and very inappropriately) pronounce Whore.

But first, we stopped off to visit the bride-to-be, so that my girlfriend could help her get ready, and offer moral support on this most important, yet stressful, day. This was in a town called Hörby (which is pronounced rather unlike Herbie), which is located just over an hour's drive away from Helsingborg.

When we got to the church, we parked about a short walk away, and made our way to the grounds. This is where I learned my first lesson about Swedish weddings: you have to shake hands with, and introduce yourself to, everyone. There were about a hundred people there, so this took some time. I don't think I've said "Mark" as many times in all my life as I did on that day (and I'm forty-three-and-a-third today).

While we were waiting to be summoned in for the ceremony, we were being entertained by a quaint quintet of musicians. Aren't they adorable?

They played good old Swedish folk songs, like Staten & Kapitalet by Ebba Grön, and The Look by Roxette.

The ceremony itself was nice, and just the perfect length. A few songs were sung; one by the bride, and a couple more by a guest singer. a few psalms were also sung, but they didn't make much sense to me because a) they were in Swedish and b) they apparently had something to do with religion.

Afterwards, we all followed the newlyweds back out to the church grounds. As we exited, some guy at the door had a basket of sunflower seeds, handfuls of which were being offered to the guests walking past. Somewhat baffled by this, I declined. When we got outside, I discovered that these were, in fact, not for eating.

It's apparently customary to form an orderly queue to where the newlyweds await congratulations and well wishes from the whole congregation. So people patiently wait their turn to chuck sunflower seeds at the couple - and wish them well straight after the assault.

Luckily, my girlfriend had picked up on this (it was her first church wedding), and had taken a handful of said seeds. We agreed that she would throw the seeds, while I would simultaneously do an impossibly fast watercolour painting of the action. Voilà:Next, we were herded around to a courtyard next to the church to have a glass of sparkling wine and a delicious little nibble. Because of the sheer number of guests, there appeared to be a fair bit of queuing for whatever we'd do, but it was all very laid-back and good-natured. It was a nice day, and everyone seemed very happy.

The buildings were nice as well. I think they were built a very long time ago; possibly even a few years before ABBA.

But wait! What's that on the left of the image above?

Yes, it was that folk band again, this time really getting into it with Take A Chance On Me by ABBA, coincidentally.

My girlfriend really wanted to get a nice photo of me in a suit, as I only usually wearing black t-shirts with black jeans. But I was feeling a bit mischievous, so just as she was taking the shot, I stuck out my tongue and inflated my head. She wasn't terribly impressed, it has to be said.

From there, we were instructed to grab a pen and a bit of paper on which we were to mark our answers to a number of multiple choice questions. The questions were hung along a trail leading to where there would be another glass of bubbly, and where the bride and groom would join us, so that we could toast their happiness for the first time.

A note about Swedish multiple choice question and the corresponding answer forms: The questions are numbered as they should be, but rather than have e.g. a, b, and c as answers, the choices are 1, X, and 2. I don't get it.

In any case, soon after all this, it was time to adjourn to the reception hall, which was in a building in an adjoining courtyard.

Charming, isn't it?

The dinner was very nice, but it seemed as though there were about twenty different speeches, and some confusion over which platters of potatoes belonged to which sections of which tables (same with the sauce), and the guy who was serving us forgot my girlfriend's alcohol-free wine a few times...

I'm not really a very dinner-party-friendly person normally, and this was quite a long one, so I was rather fidgety, and had to go out several times to stretch my legs and smoke ciggies. But it was definitely a nice one, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves thoroughly.

Unfortunately, we couldn't stay for too much of the actual partying part of the reception, as it didn't really get underway until about midnight, my girlfriend was driving, we were in the middle of nowhere (and it was pitch black), and we weren't sure of the route home. Shame; it would have been pretty easy to party until sunrise.

I had a great time, but I think that multiple choice quizzes here should be a lot more straightforward, as they are confusing to non-Swedes, and therefore discriminatory and downright xenophobic. It's time that the Swedish government did something about it.

That's what I think.

Saturday, May 31st, 2008: Swedes and Stripes, and the kids are alright in Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 31 May 2008 13:09:00 +0000

What I think:

Before I get into this, I'd like to share the end of my African scammer story that I wrote about last week. I'd gotten yet another e-mail after my last, somewhat convoluted, response. It read:

Dear Mr Mark Base,

Please i can't understand you and did not know what you mean by this mail, I ask you for your full informations so that i can give you the bank contact and you are now writeing to me what i don't understand, so please if you cab help send me your contact informations before i can send you the bank contact and the document ok.

Your's.
Miss Ibrahim

Here was my reply to that:

Dear Miss Ibrahim,

I'm sorry for any misunderstandings. My understanding was that you understood, but I guess I misunderstood. I can now say that I fully understand your misunderstanding.

Now that we understand each other, maybe you can help me to understand what it is you want from me exactly.

Correct me if I misunderstood but, in your last e-mail to me, you asked me some questions which, to the best of my understanding, I have answered. If you didn't understand the answers, I am sorry. It can be so difficult in this world to make sense of things, and we often lack harmony and understanding. There's no sympathy or trust abounding. I think we both understand that this is most certainly not the Age of Aquarius, if you understand what I mean.

I'm so glad that we now understand each other, and I look forward to hearing from you again, to find out why you have chosen me, a lonely Swiss man with a wife and twelve children, to help you to realise (and understand) the fate that has befallen you with the passing of your beloved Father, amen.

May Jesus live in your heart, and fill it with even more righteous understanding.

Understandingly yours,
Mark Base

Finally, I got "her" final e-mail:

You talk out of senses.How am i sure i have not gotten to a mad someone.
Anyway.
Keep Talking Rubbish Ok.
But do not be mad cos as i see i think soon you will go crazy.

That was that. But I couldn't resist getting the last word in:

I'm not crazy, just ask my camel, Stephen.

All the best in your quest to find the right person to help you.

It has been fun.

Warm and fuzzy regards,
Mark

Now on to the main post...

Although I'm certainly not a fashion-conscious guy (I always wear black), I do sometimes notice what other people wear. In Helsingborg.

I went to Hamnkrogen last night to meet up with a friend I hadn't seen for quite a while, and started to people-watch (as I do). It's nice here in Helsingborg, when the sun comes out. People finally decide to come out, shed their big coats, and proudly display their summer-wear.

I've reported on the socks-and-sandals-as-office-attire thing way back in February '06 (wow, was is that long ago?!), and the show-off-your-underpants craze in February last year (over a year since then?!).

One thing I've always hated is those not-quite-shorts/not-quite-trousers (US/CAN: pants). Those are still around in abundance here. Oh look! Here are some guys with them on now:

But what I discovered a while ago, and what was very much in evidence yesterday, is that many Swedes like stripes. For example, look at this guy (whom you'll notice is wearing both stripes and those short-trouser things):
Many Swedes will go for the casual v-neck, with a more understated contrast between the stripes:
Others will attempt a slightly more subtle, stylish approach:
Some will go to seemingly great lengths to disguise their affinity with clothing of the lined kind, by trying to camouflage their stripes with intricate patterns:
But they're not fooling us, are they? Oh no. Sorry Love, those are stripes.

This gentleman would probably try to have us believe that his shirt is actually plaid; perhaps his family's own tartan:
Nice try mate, but I'm not buying it. Even though some are going in different directions, you still have multiple sets of parallel lines, a.k.a. stripes. Deal with it.

Something else I noticed, quite by accident, is that the age of the Swede can sometimes be determined by the width of the stripes. Look at this photo:

As you can see, the chap (US/CAN: guy) in the foreground has rather wide stripes. The stripes adorning the upper torso of the man on the right are considerably thinner, while those that the older gentleman on the left is donning are very thin; barely perceptible.

But this is, of course, a grossly exaggerated generalisation (US/CAN: generalization). Have a look at this photo, in which a younger fellow knocks my theory down in one fell swoop:
Yes, he is wearing very thin, subtle stripes. But wait! Look at his hand - he has actually tattooed stripes onto his skin; albeit cleverly disguised as a skeletal hand. This pierced, goateed, tattooed (trust me) trickster is fooling no one with his sly and deceptive tomfoolery. He is a stripe addict.

At this point, six beers later, I decided that it was time to go home and get something to eat.

While walking towards the bus stop, I was absently looking at the photos I had taken, trying to decide how to formulate any hypothesis I may have, umm, formulated... or something. Look, I was a bit tipsy, OK?

While I was approaching, I looked up from the screen on my camera, and noticed a group of teenagers, a couple of whom posed in a silly way, thinking that I was about to take a photo of them.

So I thought, yeah why not?

No sooner did I raise my camera purposefully, letting them know that yes, I am taking a photo, when the lot of them jumped into what appeared to be an incredibly pre-meditated pose, in all of about two seconds flat. Look at this:

I thought that was pretty impressive, but not as impressive as when I walked a bit further, turned, and let them know that I would take another photo. The pose below took (I swear to your favourite deity) no longer than three seconds to strike.Amazing, isn't it?

(By the way, have you noticed the stripes in the photo?)

I'm not usually into chatting with teenagers, but these kids were a good laugh, keen to practice their English, and an amusing way to kill a few minutes while waiting for the bus.

Now I have nothing against stripes. If you're into them, more power to you, I say. I'm definitely not stripe-ist in any way (some of my best friends, etc.), but when people try to disguise their obvious obsession with them, it just gets pathetic and sad. Closet stripers need to be hauled from their checked closets, and it's time that the Swedish government did something about it.

That's what I think.

Friday, May 23rd, 2008: Scamming scammers from Africa from Helsingborg

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 22 May 2008 23:08:00 +0000

What I think:

OK, so I haven't been the best blogger for the past year or so. I haven't provided my adoring public (of four people) with the regular, constant, entertainment they had come to expect from me.

And for that I apologise.

At this point, I really don't want to make any promises I can't keep, so I will say this: I will massage any grandmothers from Boise, Idaho, who see this blog entry and answer within the next two days (offer valid from May 23rd until the 25th, 2008). And I will make an effort to blog a bit more frequently. OK?

At this point, however, I would just like to share with you a little e-mail conversation I had with an e-mail scammer today, probably from Nigeria (in Africa), but I can't be sure.

It touched my heart. You wanna know what it said? It said:

I am Miss.Hamiya Ibrahim the only Daughter Of Mr And Mrs Aziz Ibrahim from Ivory Coast.

I am an Orphan being that I lost my Parents. My Father was a serving director of the Cocoa exporting board until his death. He was assassinated by the rebels following the political uprising.

Before his death he made a deposit of Eight Million USA Dollars ($8,000,000.00) With a BANK. This fund he intended to buy a cocoa processing machine. I want you to help me for us to retrieve this fund and transfer it to your account in your country or any safer place as you will be the beneficiary and recipient of the fund.

I have plans to do investment in your country, like real estate and industrial production.This is my reason for writing to you. Please if you are willing to assist me, indicate your interest in replying soonest.

Thanks and best regards.

Dearest Miss Ibrahim,

And this is what I replied:

Dearest Miss Ibrahim,

It would be my great pleasure to help you with this.

All I ask is that you tell me:
- how you got my name,
- what country it is that you are thinking of investing in, and
- The names of all four members of The Stranglers, BEFORE the original guitarist left the band.

If you are unable to comply with this simple request, I must assume that you are insincere, and will kindly ask you to go directly to the fiery depths of the Netherworld.

With warmest regards,
Mark Base

I thought that was the end of it. But no.

I got a further e-mail. The audacity level was brilliant. Take a few moments, and

look at this:

Dear Mark Base,

I thank you for answering my call,How are you today hope all is well.I must tell you that i benefit noting to be insincere with you since i know i this problem with me before i contacted you to see that this money which i inherited from my late father is save and be invested by you in any country you may like to invest this money on my behalf...

This money in Question was Deposited in this bank with my name as next of kin and as only child by my late father so i have all evidence and prove to tell you that i have this money in the bank deposited with my name by my late father..

Because of what i am passing through,Coupled with the problems giving to me by the relatives of my Dad i decided to get in contact with you so that you can give me the assistance by contacting the bank as my late father's foreign business partner so that they will tell you how and when my money will be transfer to your account but that should be after when i have received your contact Informations to enable me Introduced you to the bank as my late father's foreign business partner before i will now give you the full contact information of the bank for you to contact them
on my behalf for the transfer of my money to your account..

Some more questions for you please,

1. Are you married, tell me more about your family?
2. Can you manage the funds for investments in your country after its transfer?
3. Tell me a little about economic regulations, taxes etc in your country?
4. Can you send me an invitation to come to your country after the funds transfer?

These few questions is not meant to embarrass you, but because I have to be sure of certain things, before making any further moves on this issue.
God bless you.
Yours Miss Hamiya Ibrahim.

And so, I had to answer with this:

Dearest Miss Ibrahim,

Although I am disappointed that you were unable to name The Stranglers' original members (for your information, they were Hugh Cornwell on guitar, Jean-Jacques Burnell on bass, Dave Greenfield on keyboards, and Jet Black on drums), I feel that your sincerity shines through like a bright star on the horizon of my existence.

I thank you for contacting me again, and I am happy to answer your questions, even though I do indeed find them a little bit embarrassing and extremely rude, in the most loving and beautiful way that you can imagine in your most vivid and colourful dreams.

I am married. I have twelve children, and I have named seven of them George, after the late great George Harrison, the guitarist of The Beatles (who were the best Country & Western band since the Sex Pistols - don’t you agree?). Georges number 3 and 5 are not very pleased with being called George, as they are girls, but they are happy that I don’t beat them if they call themselves Georgina instead.

I manage money very well. I’m an expert in money laundering and tax evasion, and have been blessed to be able to use my talents with the names of my twelve children to further my necessary greed-mongering. I sometimes wish that fewer of my children were called George, as I feel that I could have made more than my $400,000 a year if all my children had different names.

The tax regulations in Switzerland (my home country) are quite strange and complex. Each year, I have to provide the government with proof that I have helped people in either Yugoslavia, Australia or Guam with their tax returns, and also answered a minimum of seven e-mails from African nationals asking for money. But I have no problem with this, as my cousin Bruce Schmidtski is a top-class top-class Australian-Swiss-Yugoslavian accountant with connections in high places in Guam, and he helps me to establish which requests are sincere, and which are scams.

Once I see that glorious cash in my account, baby, I will definitely send you loads of invitations to come to my home country. And not just for you, but for six of your closest friends as well. This in on the condition that they don’t mind being called George.

If you are like me, and enjoy the sound of cuckoo clocks in the morning, then I think we can do business.

I like you, and I trust that your request is an honest cry for help.
Please get back to me with more details, so that we may make further progress on our already burgeoning financial relationship.

May God appear in his best underpants for you.

Love and peace,
Mark Base

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At this point, I'd like to thank you for your patience. I will be back shortly, with more concrete stories of Swedish underpants (but not of concrete underpants in Sweden - that's my secret) and more pub toilet reviews.

In the mean time, I hope that the Swedish government does something about those horrible topless girls we keep hearing about. We need more.

Wednesday, March 26th, 2008: Rest in peace, John Aherne - A day of sadness in Helsingborg, Stockholm, and Wicklow, Ireland

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 13:36:00 +0000

What I think:

I'm very sad to relay the news that John Aherne, an Irish tourist who went missing in Stockholm over St Patrick's Day weekend, has drowned.

His body was recovered just before midday in the water at Norra Hammarby harbour, in the southern part of central Stockholm.

I'd written a couple of posts about John's mysterious disappearance, and had been hoping that he would be found safe and well. This is truly tragic, and my deepest heartfelt condolences go out to John's family and friends.

The events, from when John went missing, to when the news broke, and leading right up until I sit here writing this, are covered quite touchingly on the discussion forum on The Local (Sweden's news in English).

It starts with Karl (John's host in Stockholm) explaining the circumstances surrounding John's disappearance, and the other regulars then offer help, support, hope and prayers (which they maintain throughout).

The forum is then visited by many, many people from Ireland, some of whom take the opportunity to post comments to offer their gratitude, and to add to the voices of hope.

A good few of these "newbie" posters are from John's hometown of Wicklow, and some spirit-raising anecdotes about growing up there are shared, while the agonising wait continues.

And then...

I went to a meeting this morning, and got back at around 2:30 p.m. I went straight onto the computer, and over to thelocal.se for an update. I was immediately saddened to see the headline "Body of missing Irish tourist found" staring back at me.

I went to the discussion forum, and decided to read from where I'd left off last night (on page 59 - it was now up to page 69). Knowing what I now knew, it was unbearably sad to read what had been written late last night and earlier today. And reading the comments from around the time when the news started to come through became heart-wrenching.

So, now I'm grieving for someone I've never met, and feeling so very, very sorry for others I don't even know.

If it can be said that anything at all good has come out of this very sad and tragic loss, I think it would be the fact that John's disappearance has brought two communities very solidly together: one "cyber" community on The Local, and one very real, living, breathing, remembering community, in Wicklow town, Ireland.

And it goes to show that, even though most of us in the cyber-world will go to great lengths to protect our anonymity, no one can deny that the "regulars" on The Local are indeed very real, very caring individuals.

Once again, deepest condolences to John's family and friends (special regards to Karl), but also a huge hug to the totally amazing people on The Local - you guys are great.

Finally to John Aherne: Rest in peace, mate.

From what I hear, we would have gotten along well. That's what I think.