Sweden; the great frontier

Well I’ve departed Caen for good, and after nearly two weeks of packing all of my stuff into suitcases, throwing a bunch of it out, and giving a bunch of it to needy people I’ve managed to put my life into one oversized suitcase, and a tennis bag. It’s all heavy as fuck and since I’ve decided to come to Sweden for a few weeks before going back to Canada, I had to bring everything with me. My flight leaves for Buffalo on May 31st and well it will be a sad moment of course!

In any case, since Caen is a pain in the ass to get from for flights going out of Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris I left the night before to visit Marie before leaving la France again. I got there, no problems but of course it was a bitch with my internet services, and the metro was rush hour so I wanted to shoot myself in the face. The night was okay and we talked a lot and watched Desperate Housewives before I left at 7:15 the next morning, during rush hour again. The metro was packed and with my luggage it was a pain.

Aéroport Charles de GaulleAéroport Charles de Gaulle

I made it to Opéra to take the RossiyBus to the airport, and I got nervouse becasue it was taking a lot longer than I thought and I was sort of late. Upon paniced arrival at the airport it was all okay since all flights were delayed due to fog, go me! I checked my luggage and it turned out to be 24kg (only 4kg over w00t!) and then got something to eat and talked with this half-French, half-Swedish family. The woman came from Upper Normandy and was really impressed with the fact that I spoke French so well (and quickly). Ha! I bid them adieu and went to my gate where they seemed to not speak French at all (funny that). The delays created the absoute worst situation ever. All these gates with flights going to Stockholm, Oslo, Copenhagen, Talinn, Helsinki all with delays and thus there were no seats left. There were people piled on the floors and on the windows; it was creepy. I grabbed a paper and chilled for awhile. The flight was long but lovely considering the lovely staff at SAS, who’s names were Marie, Bengt Holm, and unknown older woman. They were flirty and their outfits were far too tight. I’ve decided to grow my hair out to be like Bengt’s, as it was lovely.

Arlanda AirportArlanda Airport, Peter Jöback

I arrived at Arlanda and immediately felt like home, and the signs welcome us. Welcome to Stockholm, welcome home! The airport was empty except for our Boeign 747 flight, and as you can see nobody is around, and nothing was going on. Mr. Happy made a triumphant return, taking a photo with Peter Jöback, my teasingly apparent twin (according to Daniel). Do you see the resemblance? In any case, I took a photo and everyone else was laughing at me and were amused by my crazyness. I’m glad that the Swedes can take it so lovely, especially after a flight that featured the woman across from me having a panic attack during takeoff and landing. I’d like also to thank the people on my flight for not clapping, as obviously the pilots know what they are doing!

Arlanda AirportArlanda C

I got into the airport, got my train ticket for the Upplands Lokalträffik, Upptåget, which for those that aren’t swedophone, it’s the commuter train from Uppsala Väsby to Gävle. Itw as comfy and modern, but the terminal for waiting was quite cold! I got into Uppsala with my luggage and made it to meet Arash and take my luggage to his nation, which is basically a student organisation like fraternaties but are completly informal and fun! Turns out that I’m awesome and know so many people that nobody cares cause I’m awesome! So I’m back in the dorms, and into a really nice flat which is a bit cramped. I met Henrik, the flatmate, and the others that were around, and since I arrived on a Thursday it’s the waffle and soup day, so I helped serve that and brushed up on my Swedish, which had gone unused for awhile.

Can you say, what?

After my abrusk return to Normandy a few weeks ago there have been many-a-thing to happen. I started work, and caught up with my blogs, and met some people, and fell around, and avoided getting sick. One of the most promising things, however, despite a trip to Rouen (for which photos will follow in the coming time), was a trip to Paris for Emma’s birthday.

She invited a bunch of her friends from England to come to Paris and celebrate a jolly-old-time. I reluctantly agreed to go to the city that I so distaingfully loathe, but if not for only one night, how could it be so bad? I woke up quite early on a Saturday to get on a train, and who knew that SNCF had trains from Caen to Paris St Lazare, non-stop? Anyways, we got there after the quickest train ever, and met up with a few of Emma’s friends, then spent the afternoon amusing ourselves before the other 15 arrived.

The evening we took a nap, started drinking, went to a resteraunt, and frolicked around the city. All is well that ends well, after being the francophone shepherd of the English people with no knowledge of French, we eventually came back to our hostel to hear recounts of penises, oddly, castration, oddly, and other nutella-topiced conversations. It was lovely.

I slept like a log, and then woke up, faked having breakfast and being disgusted with my hair, which hadn’t seen product in nearly 72 hours, took the English people to Porte Maillot to catch their bus to the Beauvais Airport, and then returned to St-Lazare which was deserted, and got on the next train. I didn’t want to stay in the city longer like the rest, as I was already outstayed my Paris welcome. I got home and wallowed in my room whilst napping and eating chocolate bears.

Back to Normandy

Whilst Chris worked, Cédric and I explored Lyon with his friends Lionel (whom I remember as the creepy one), and his room-mate Pascal who is physicist, like Markus! They even have similar personalities, it’s quite funny. He’s from Tours, which made me drool over his accent and usage of words, so hawt that accent, and we played Wii and such to pass the time. We went to a restaurant, got stared at for awhile, and then continued on our way without being robbed, raped, or bashed.

Sunday morning I woke up early, after a quite emotionally trying evening, teary eyed because I was leaving when I was so happy, and we went to Gare Part-Dieu to drop me off. Cédric and I always lack words and the ability to express ourselves in such situations, but I managed to hold back my emotions, and appear to be happy even though inside I was so sad and the way home I was just a plain wreck. I really appreciate the attention, kindness, and gratitude that my friends showed me over these holidays. I will never forget them, and soon we will meet again somewhere-or-another.

The trip back to Normandy, 1st class again, was 1) scary and 2) successful. The train conductor made me panic when asking if I’d make my connection (with 45 minutes change of station across the city). I made it fine with 30 minutes to go, and as pick-pockets were arrested on the train back to Caen, I arrived in the early afternoon, and walked from the train station through the brisk and freakishly cold and clear weather blanketed over Normandy. I arrived back to a cold, frozen and boarded up flat, but quickly became settled again before the work week began the following day.

Operation not being alone for the holidays, successful with stars!

Cross-country travels

The holidays have arrived, and I’ve found a few moments to recap what has been going on. I will try to be as detailed as possible, as to best facilitate the greatness of my blog, but it may not come out as ordered as I’d hope. On Friday before the vacation, we were called back into work from the strike to teach the struggling students one day of classes. I worked for eight hours, had one of my classes compacted into another. I showed How the Grinch Stole Christmas and A Charlie Brown Christmas to better celebrate the holiday season and to entice conversation.

I quickly departed from school to Sarah’s house for a holiday gathering of her, her boyfriend Mathieu, Natalie, and Anne-Céline. We drank a lot of champagne (to make up for missing our normal Friday-outing), and then we embarked on our evening out dancing. We went to a few places trying to avoid the crowds of younger people, in our state but alas we ended up going to a nice little place, danced for a few hours and then went home. I seemed to have indigestion problems from champagne, and thus I had to relieve myself in several different forms in the streets of Caen. I’m amazed that I could bring myself to do it, but wow. Enough of that.

I returned home at approximately 03.30, with needing to wake up at 04.30 to get ready and catch my train at 06.08. I had to walk to the train station, since busses are still out of running, but at that hour nothing works anyways, so I took off. I got sort of lost, and in a panic, so I went into a hotel and asked for a taxi, the guy was really nice and convinced me that the train station was closer and I could get there in 5 minutes. Turns out he was right, and I was just panicking. I avoided the masses at the train station, and was approached by 2 homeless men, and 2 flaming homosexuals that seemed to want a threesome. I quickly took my spot in my First Class seat, and off to Paris I went.

Indigestion killed me during the train ride, and I felt a little drunk still and running on nearly no energy. I arrived at Paris-St-Lazare at the scheduled time, and it gave me 1.5 hours to get from Paris-St-Lazare to Paris-Gare de Lyon. Efficiently planned, I sauntered my way from the train (amongst all the Parisians that were waiting for their track numbers – it’s funny, it looked like a creepy movie!), and down into the metro. My suitcase (which was my only one I had) gave my arms massive pains as it weighed more than me, thanks to gifts I was bringing. I got on the number 14, purple line towards Olympiades, and I got off at Gare de Lyon. I stood around for about an hour, waiting for a track number, and then got to my duplex train, first class (which was full), got my laptop out and started watching Grey’s Anatomy until I arrived to Lyon. The woman sitting across from me was having a panic attack, and was crying and flailing around, I was quite irritated, because clearly people were in First class that wouldn’t normally be there.

I arrived at Lyon-Part-Dieu, and found Cédric amongst the many people, and we departed for the Marseille region. We caught up along the way, and talked about random stuff. It was pleasant to see him again, since it’s been nearly two years since I’ve been to Saint-Étienne and Lyon with him and Chris. He was shocked that I wouldn’t eat anything, but I assured him that I was fasting so that I didn’t gain any mass amounts of weight between then, and the New Year. I’m looking to not be a lonely-son-of-a-bitch, after all. He seems to find it funny, I find it a serious issue among other things.

We got to the village near Marseille, Cadolive, where his family lives and I met the family and placed my things where the should have gone. We chilled for awhile in the village, got some bread, and the weeks events were outlined to me. As per tradition, the family goes into the mountains to do some illegal holly picking, so I had to dress warmly (ha! says the Provençal people). We ate a lovely soup, visited some of Cédric’s childhood friends, and then we came home and chilled before going to bed.

Paris v2.ii


The restaurant that we found was entitled “Le Tajine” and can be found in the 11è arrondissement. As the name suggests, it’s a Moroccan restaurant that serves, as a specialty, Tajines. I decided to try it and it was delicious, even though the waiter was old and refused to bring us water after three times ordering. Apparently it’s against the law to not serve water, so I was getting ready to quote some outlandish sentence to claim that we have a constitutional right to having water, blah blah blah.

The food came all steamy and in this amazing ceramic plate which was taken off and my chicken, which was sautéed in green olives and lemon, was still bubbling and far too hot to to eat. We enjoyed each other’s company. The couple in the corner were speaking English since she was French and he was German. She was trashed by desert time, after their third bottle of wine, and we made a bet that she’d get laid by her German boyfriend 10 minutes from getting home. The other couple next to us kept going outside to smoke, like every 5 minutes, and then they go into some philosophical debate with the owner’s family about the treatment of men. This was incited because the girl jokingly hit the guy on the head cause he said something rude. Justified yes, but then the old waiter freaked out and said that one must respect men and blah blah blah. Quite the over-masculine culture, clearly. Go feminism! 

We shared a desert, which incited suspicious looks from the infamous waiter. I basically gave him the evil eye and continued to share the sorbet, as we were much too full to have our own. I paid and we exited after being attacked with some sort of cleaner on our hands made of oil. Thank God the couple in the corner left first or we would never have known to hold our hands out of the lady that came out with the “tea” trolly. We went out, and so our next adventure began. We wanted alcohol, and to put it into really simple terms, we wanted to get drunk, fast.

We found a little corner store around the corner, slaved over our wine choice, then discovered that neither of us have a bottle opener and decided to thus go with champagne. Good choice, and some chocolate waffle thingies. We paid up and went out, turned the corner and then the drama happened. We were just minding our own business, and these two guys on the corner with a dog asked me the following, the entirety of the conversation can be found below, Translated.

Man: Do you have 0.30€ please?
Osky: No sorry, I haven’t any change.
[200m advance]
Man: Wow, what a fuckin’ tight ass, yeah!
Markus: What’d he say?
Osky: You don’t wanna know!
[300m advance]
Man: So are you the girl?
Osky: Fuck off.
Markus: What’s he saying?
[500m advance, we hear something, turn and see the man running after us with the dog coming also]
[man grabs onto my hips and grinds himself into me]

Man: Oh yeah baby, you like that don’t you?
Osky: Get off me, fuck off.
[man comes in front of me, with the dog jumping on me, grabs my hips again and starts to feel me up]
Man: Oh shit, look at your eyes, they are so beautiful, you know I love guys, and I know you want me to just turn you around and let me fuck you up your tight hole!
Osky: Get the fuck off me.
[Osky pushes guy away and he goes to Markus who quickly pushes him]
[Man comes back to me, grabs my hips, takes one hand and gropes me, and the other on my ass]
[Osky decides to grab the guy’s shoulders, kick him in the nuts, hard, and push him into the middle of the street]

Osky: Dégage!!
[Exit Osky & Markus, left alleyway to the hotel]

Upon returning to the safety of the hotel, Markus asked me what the hell happened. I recounted what was going on, and he told me “Wow I never believed you when you said you were afraid of getting raped and get hit on by creeps, but now I know you’re being serious.” This is the second time that someone has said that they didn’t believe me, witnessed me being treated like shit, and then apologised for doubting me. Listen to me people, I’m dead serious!

In order to celebrate my victory, and possibly the death by oncoming traffic of the guy and his dog, we got drunk fast looking at scandalous pictures from Markus’ trip. We went to sleep in a daze, woke up and got our shit together to get to the train station and seem me off. It was a lovely day, I got some photos for my administrative stuff, and then we had our goodbyes. As always the train station was packed and travelers were in a panic from the strikes. Homeless people, beggars, and musicians in the metro are in full force Monday’s, for all those who didn’t know! 

I got back home and fell asleep as I was tired, cold, and wanted to curl up and die. So what is the message from this trip? The recap is as follows:

  1. Osky hates Paris
  2. Osky, however, likes the shopping in Paris
  3. Osky finally saw the Louvre
  4. Osky spent the weekend with Markus
  5. Osky hates the negative attention he gets
  6. Osky is still afraid of being raped
  7. Osky needs to stop getting hit on for no reason by creeps
  8. Osky can do no better than homeless people, drunkards, or dodgy characters
  9. Osky needs a taser

I’m glad that we all agree…