"What's with the name?"

So for those of you that stay involved in my life you've most likely heard me talk about my colorful friend Bittner, I'm only gonna use her last name because even though I don't think Bittner is too concerned about any type of privacy infringement I don't want any of you creepers trying to find her and beg her hand in marriage.  She's wild horse not to be tamed and a force not to be reckoned with!  Let me paint the picture of when I first came across Bittner.  It was the first weekend in December of '09' and the whole crew went to Lutsen Mountains for the weekend.

I <3 Lutsen.

Lutsen is by far my favorite place to snowboard in Minnesota.  It has the longest runs, the best apres ski stuff (even though Papa Charlie's is an evil overpriced monopoly), and like Duluth has an amazing view of Lake Superior.  But unlike Duluth when you're looking at the lake all you see is a few cabins and the rest is all nature at it's finest.  No ugly shipping industry or crusty Superior, WI on the other side.  When we go to Lusten it's usually a group effort and we pile as many to a car as you can and cram into the 2-for-1 priced condos like Jews in a closet during the Holocaust.
This particular weekend was especially special!  It was the opening weekend for Lusten and my buddies at Damage Boardshop were putting on their annual rail jam.  There was also a good line-up of music going on at Papa Charlie's for Saturday evening.  There was probably about 20 or 25 of us there solely to show some Damage love and to party our pants off which is what we always do when we're together, and by the end of this night most people didn't have any pants on, our shirts because they had puked on them.  I won't mention any names but the morning we left there were about 3 people that were in absolutely no condition to snowboard, let alone perform the basic functions of daily living.

this was before we even headed to the bar...

Back to my story though, Bittner...  I don't think I saw this girl one time during the day which is strange because she had on either a gold jacket or snowpants.  Not the kind of yellow gold that is a school color, no the gold that shimmers and makes you think of go-go girls and pimps with lots of rings on their fingers.  The first time I saw Bittner it was probably about 10°F and she was wearing a mini-skirt and knee high boots with fur.  Now I'm not one to judge (well yes I am), but not this night... I don't think we even bumped into each other at the bar.  No, Bittner and I came into acquaintance at about 2:30 in the morning after she sat in the hallway for 45 minutes with two of my other friends who were trying to get into the condo we were all staying in.  There was a reason why I didn't want them to be able to get in so I wasn't to stoked when they finally jimmied the lock and made their unwanted entrance.  But either way we all were a mess anyways.  Someone decided to throw in a few Jack's pizza's and I'm pretty sure all of us proceeded to pass out sitting up.  All I can remember is thinking to myself "who the hell is this girl? and where are her pants!"  Like a mother I just wanted to cover her legs up give her something warm to drink instead of the piss warm Hamm's she was nursing in between dozing off.  The one thing I couldn't help noticing though was how nice her legs were.  Sort of creepy I guess, but when a girl is judging another girl they obviously look for flaws.. not one little cellulite dimple on this chicks bottom (I later found out she is a marathon runner!) Either way I didn't get very much of an impression on this night at all because it was a short lived one ended by everyone marching one by one to a pass out spot and tipping over.  The next morning everyone awoke cloudy headed and squinty eyed.  It was absolutely freezing outside and I had to make my way back to the other condo where all my stuff was.  Just so happens Bittner did to, but she didn't know where she was and asked me if I could show her how to get back to the other resort.  Walking out into the frigid morning cold in a mini skirt I expected her to say something stupid like "holy shit it's cold."  To which I would have just chuckled and shook my head, but she didn't and she followed me back and I didn't see or hear from her again for a few weeks.  


Every time I saw this girl at Spirit all I could think is "who are you girl with the tight Holden rocker pant, bubbly laugh, shop tees and dirty mouth?"  If I had a dollar for every time Bittner said this one dirty word (that I won't mention because I'm sure at least one of my family members reads this thing) I would have a lot more $ than any of you people make in a week.  But finally one night we ended up chatting at Mt. Du Lac (and taking multiple shot skis together) I decided that this girl might not be so bad after all and I maybe like her.  The rest is history.  

The first time I realized Bittner is the shit was during the first annual PB & J weekend.  After a group of us made tentative plans to do some illegal camping on the hill to save some dough it ended up the only ones going we Barry and I.  Which was fine with me!  After we had a first successful night of camping and not getting eaten by wolves I noticed I had a missed call from Bittner.  Called her back and could tell she was in a car.  She never got the memo that everyone else in the group bailed and she was en route to Lutsen.  I was fine with this and so was Barry, we were actually pretty stoked because even though neither of us knew her very well, we both knew she was entertaining as hell.  After Bittner got there we did some shredding and some drinking and then it was time to set up a tent for her in our secret campsite.  With a HUGE lime green duffel bag and diaper bag sized Victoria's Secret tote we tried to be as discreet as we could sneaking up to our campsite, almost impossible.  After sundown we decided it would be fun to sneak into the hot tubs that paying guests had the privilege to use.  I didn't have a swim suit, but of course Bittner exclaimed "no problem I have 2 with!" Of course you do Bittner.  Both of her swimsuits sewn together barely make a pair of underwear for me, but it was just the three of us so I didn't care too much.  That weekend is one of my favorite weekends at Lutsen and we didn't go to the bar once, or pay for a room.  Fricken awesome!  The next day was filled with a slew of one liners.  It was also the first time I'd seen anyone eat a brick of cheddar cheese and wash it down with Hot Sex.  

post card quality shot of Bittner at our campsite!

So after returning from our weekend we all had to answer a lot of inquiries about whether or not Bittner and I pig roasted Barry, unfortunately no.  But ever since then this girl has been an awesome friend and there when I need her.  She's got lots of wisdom and witty remarks to follow just so she doesn't come off as too serious.  Bittner is a clear example as to why I shouldn't judge flashy looking books by their covers (even though I am right a lot of the time.)  This girl is always down to longboard the lake walk to Lucé for a bloody, run to Spirit for a quick shred session, or party down when the time comes.  She has an awesome sense of humor and could outwit almost anyone I know.

My last night in Duluth all of my favorite people came to wave me goodbye (and get me stupid drunk.)  Bittner left a rehearsal dinner early so that she wouldn't miss any of the shenanigans.  Towards the end of the night after way too many shots sitting in the dimly lit Carmody's pub I looked over at Bittner and said "Bittner give me your panties"

"WHY?!"

"Because I'm going to take them with me on my travels and write a blog about it and call it Bittner's dirty panties, and when I go to really special places your panties will be photographed there and make celebrity appearances in my blog, which will be called Bittner's dirty panties!"

"Okay let me at least go wash them with some hand soap in the bathroom before I give them to you!"

p.s. I have also washed them a few times since they've came into my possession.

...simple as that, and that among many other things is why I fucking love you Bittner.

Dublin, Ireland!

Made to Dublin safely and made sure to have a few Guinness's in the Swedish airport so we could compare them to the ones that we'll be drinking here!

Had an amazing day today touring the Guinness factory, checking out O'Connell Street, and sitting down for some Irish tapas.  I'll be writing a much larger post sometime in the future to tell you all about it...

you wouldn't believe the looks I got from a few gingers while posing for this photo.  

Easy on the starch...

To the untrained eye (or a f*@#ing idiot) this would appear to be a box of some type of edible substance.  It was October 4, 2010 aka National Cinnamon Bun day here in Sweden.  Yes they love their baked goods that much as to make a recognized holiday of it.  No one gets work off or anything sweet, but I indulged in one… okay maybe 3.  But they were the small shitty ones in a bag that we baked at home.  Which leads me back to my point.  My roommate told me that he was going to the grocery store to get some and later in the evening there would be cinnamon buns for all!  So as the night got later and later I was waiting for the aroma to waft into my room signaling the buns were done.  When it was 9:30 I started to get impatient and stomped into the kitchen muttering curses in reaction to the cinnamon buns I was promised not being available.  As I entered I immediately saw the bag sitting next to the stove, “oh alright at least the oven is pre-heating.” 

Well well well what’s this?  The first thought that jumped into my head was powdered sugar.  I have been keeping my eye out for the stuff and haven’t found it yet.  It makes sense, all the cinnamon buns I see in Sweden have some type of sugar on top or white little granules of something.  So I broke the tab on the side of the box and looked in.  Yes it’s white and powdery, that only reinforced the idea that the substance inside this box was sugar.  But just to make sure I lifted the box up to my noise (very briefly I might add) and there was no apparent smell that I could detect.  So again I thought to myself, “Well I guess I don’t really know what sugar smells like” but either way I have had a damn cold since I got here so my sniffer isn’t performing at full capacity anyway.    The brand “El Dorado” is also like a HyTop or Flavorite brand of food, shitty quality-cheap price.

So it kinda looks like sugar, kinda feels like sugar, smells like nothing.  Now for the final test…   touching my index finger to my tongue for some moisture I proceeded to stick my wet finger in the powdery white substance.  As I pulled it out and brought my finger towards my mouth I had a small realization.  This stuff doesn’t really look like sugar actually.  But my brain had already sent the message to my finger, and it was too late.  Once the stuff connected with my taste buds everything made perfect sense. 

THIS IS LAUNDRY DETERGENT!!!!  UGHHHHHHHHH.  Why didn’t I see it before?  The “COLOR”… guess I just wrote it off because so far my experience is that Swedes are not the best graphic designers.  I have also never seen this El Dorado brand anywhere beside the grocery aisle, but I suppose like any other large supplier that produce household items as well.  The way I’ve told this story so far seems like I sat in my kitchen for a good amount of time examining and contemplating, No.  This whole process took about 35 seconds.  This stuff left the worse taste in my mouth.  I immediately turned the sink on and started rinsing my mouth out, then grabbed a paper towel and started scrubbing my tongue.  Hearing all the commotion, my roommate came out to check what the hell was going on. 

The sight of the opened box, and me wiping my tongue off with a dish towel gave Bruce all the tools to put two and two together, because he started laughing at me hysterically.  This is pretty much how are conversation went after that:

Me: “WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU LEAVE LAUNDRY DETERGENT ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER?  YOU KNOW I CAN’T READ OF SPEAK SWEDISH”

Bruce: “Hahahahahahahaha”

Me:”I MEAN YOU LEFT IT SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO A BAG OF CINNAMON BUNS”

Bruce: “Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha”

Me: “YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE, WHO USES POWDERED LAUNDRY DETERGENT, IT’S TWO THOUSAND AND F’ING TEN, I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THEY SOLD THIS IN STORES, I THOUGHT THEY JUST USED IT IN CORRECTIONAL PRISONS.”

Bruce: “HAHAHAHA, you hahaha actual hahaha ly ate laundry detergent.

Me: “SHUT UP BRUCE”

Then to top it off the jackass burnt the cinnamon buns…  I ate laundry detergent for nothing.

Uppsala

I told her it wasn’t a good idea to go out the night before we had to catch a 9 a.m. train!  But then she pleaded one more time, “c’mon I’ll buy your beer!”

To which I responded, “o.k.”  Since the cheapest beer is around $5

So after a few hours of pre-partying at home with some cheap wine, we went to the pub on campus called Sivan’s.  It’s an okay club, and sometimes they play okay music outside on the deck.  Usually inside there is some house techno, or shitty American club music playing.  Well to make a long story short it was a very fun night, I got a little more intoxicated than planned and ended up leaving the pub before everyone else and going home to pass out and make my nightly skype calls to friends at home.  I’m sure its funny for people to be eating dinner around 6 p.m. and try to carry on a civilized conversation with me after a good run at the pub.  But anyways back to my story.  I went to bed, and before falling asleep realized I hadn’t packed one thing for my 4 day weekend yet.  Shit.

Well I decided it was nothing to lose sleep over, and I of course wasn’t going to attempt packing at 2 am after a night out.  So I slept for something like 4 hours.  After my little nighttime nap I woke up to my alarm clock screeching at me.  Whoever invented the snooze button is an asshole, that little button gives people the false idea of “9 more minutes” and that turns into half hours and just how many job interviews, flights, and a.m. colonoscopy appointments do you think people have been tardy for because of that genius.  I think I hit that cursed button about 3 times and got up 25 minutes before our bus to the train left.  Springing up out of bed (which was immediately followed by one of those familiar “whoa am I still drunk?” stumbles)  I grabbed my touring pack and started throwing articles of clothing, hygiene products and a whole bunch of unnecessary things into it.  Jess came to knock on my door after her wake up text to me went unanswered.  I was actually ready to go by this time so we decided to go a few minutes early to catch the bus. 

Stepping outside we encountered the worst weather we’ve experienced in Sweden to boot.  With a carton of apple juice in hand, I made my way towards the university bus stop.  On the way I think my umbrella turned itself inside out 4 times because of the strong winds.  So I hope your all making a mental picture of me soaking wet, hungover, carrying apple juice and a large pack running to the bus with my my umbrella inside out, because as we got closer we noticed our bus was already there, and it was about to leave!  But we made it after our half assed attempt at jogging, which almost threw Jessica into a puking fit. 

Don't let that smile deceive you, I'm about to upchuck.

Now we were on our way to Uppsala which is another university town in Sweden about an hour north of the capital Stockholm.  There are about 30,000 students and one of them happens to be Jess’s brother Beau.  This was awesome because we had a place to stay and someone to stay with who knows a lot of people from living there for 3 years.  I never know what to expect when couchsurfing, especially with someone I have just met….  Maybe her brother and his girlfriend will be socially awkward and I’ll be spending 4 days in there apartment watching television, or maybe they have a drinking problem and I’ll get separated from them while we’re out one night and get lost only to be Taken, like that girl in the movie. 

I guess if I'd had seen a picture first I would've known they're totally normal!

Not the case at all.  Sophie and Beau are one of the nicest couples I have ever met.  They are those generous people that have the attitude of “this may not be the Four Seasons, but make yourself at home.”  They were more than generous hosts, and at the same time we didn’t totally invade their life and went off and did a lot of stuff on our own.  The town is absolutely beautiful and had a really cool social scene.  We went out to a student pub one night and got a beer and a burger, and people were just sitting there hanging out and talking over good cheap grub.  I am now going to make it my mission to find out where people like this hang out in Vaxjo.  One morning we went on a hike through the woods with a trail, it had some single track which really made me miss my mountain bike.  The rest of the day we went and explored downtown, the highlights were this old castle which didn’t really look much like a castle, a botanical garden, and a cathedral that made me think about going to Sunday morning service (for a brief second) because it was so gorgeous.

Saturday was Sophie’s birthday, which meant her parents and aunt and uncle would be coming for lunch.  I think they make quite a big deal out of birthdays in Swedish culture.  It was so cool to see how the whole family interacted, and they were so warm and welcoming to me to be a part of it.  Her mother is Swedish and her father is French.  So of course we had a wine with lunch, and tea with dessert.  Then I showed them Duluth on the map and a few pictures of the hillside on the computer.  Her father told us all about the wine we were drinking, and how you can tell exactly what region in France it comes from by reading all the names on the bottle.  It all seems so sophisticated to me, but they were the exact opposite of stuffy and judgemental.  Everyone had a great sense of humor and treated us like we were family.  Later on Sophie had about 15 friends over for a drink before we went to her favorite sushi restaurant where we I did my first saki bomb. 

I hope this is what I always look like before a shot!

Later we went out to a Cuban salsa club and lined the walls like we were at a 7^th grade school dance.  There was no way in hell I was about to be the first one dancing (I only do that after a few cocktails)  and since the mojitos and rum and cokes were about $17 a pop, that wasn’t going to happen either.  But a few of the Swedes got ballsy and I was very impressed at how good some of them could salsa.  Some poor fellow mistook my awkward attempts at standing to the side bobbing my head with the beat that I wanted to dance.  When I said “no that’s okay” in English he just smiled and nodded and started showing me steps so I tried to salsa and after about 3 minutes of tripping over my own feet numerous times I just said “I’m sorry I’m too white to do this” and walked away. 

How do you say sweet mullet in Spanish?

After seeing one of the best mullets I’ve came across in awhile on a Cuban man who had the style of Nash Bridges or an extra on the set of Miami Vice, we decided to try one more place then head home.  The second place was full of people our own age, and we even got the dj to put on a Michael Jackson song after lying and saying it was my birthday.  But it was closing time so we decided to walk home after a successful last night in Uppsala.  In the morning we woke up and Sophie made us Swedish pancakes, which are sort of like crepes, but served with jam and crème.  Then we caught the train to Stockholm and walked around like gapers with our big packs and cameras took a few pics and hopped on the train home.  

I'm now officially a hipster.

Now I’m sitting across from a girl snoring at low enough decibel that my headphones can block her out.  I’m content and exhausted, it was an amazing weekend and I met so many impressive people from way more countries than I will ever travel to in my life.  It’s pretty cool that I can have the opportunity to experience them all in the living room in an apartment of Sweden.

‘Til next time!

Pam

Getting Settled!

So I've started to do some exploring around campus and found out that the Teleborg Castle has tea and coffee on Sunday mornings.  Nothing is better for a hangover than these AMAZING choklad bolls things I recently discovered.  They taste like a no bake cookie without the oatmeal, uber rich and sweet.  

Teleborg Castle on campus

You call that a bed?!

So I’d like to have a good excuse as to why I suck so much at this blog thing.  I suppose it’s just like every other thing I procrastinate.  I haven’t even really started classes yet.  I guess if you count Swedish Sports and Leisure as an academic subject, which they do here (3 credits I might add) then yes, I am in class.  On my first day of class we played tug of war, mini golf, Frisbee, and bean bags.  In a few weeks I start my Swedish language class and a marketing course.  So I’m just trying to enjoy my free time now.  But that also involves a lot of Skype and facebook, so I really have no valid reason for not getting this thing up and going. 

In a few weeks I’m going to travel to Uppsala with my new found friend Jessica.  She was the first roommate I met when I arrived, and to my surprise we was American.  She is from Colorado, which is great because people from Colorado usually aren’t pussies.  No one wants to travel around Europe with a whiny little brat.  And since arriving I’ve been keeping my eye out for a travel companion since I don’t know too many people here. 

Sweden partner in crime (she's gonna be pissed I put this on here.)

BINGO, this girl likes to party, but isn’t a messy puddle at the end of the night.  She’s fun to hang out with but is totally fine with doing her own thing.  And she’s not a gaper, she doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb like some of the other American’s I’ve encountered since being here.  Like this one guy in a class of mine that uses phrases like “hey there fella” and “excuse me folks” when talking to people.  So far everyone in the class asked me if we all talk like him, or if he comes off as a weirdo to me to?  I just say “no comment” all the time, because I’m sure the kids having a tough time already adjusting, and doesn't need people bullying him like he's in the 3rd grade again.  I also had a bit of a culture shock when I got here. 

After arriving into Copenhagen, Denmark I had trouble finding my train after being led in the wrong direction THREE separate times by three different people, then I had to wait for a train switch in Malmo Sweden with all of my luggage.  I thought I was going to get shanked by some of the 12 year olds at the train station. 

There was some tough looking 3 year olds as well...

It’s such a different system how the kids are so independent and take the subway home after school instead of riding a school bus or being picked up by their moms.  Then I finally arrived in Växjö, and was picked up by a girl from the school but we had to wait for a guy from Egypt.  When we got to school they gave the two of us a quick little run through of some info and then informed me our first months rent was due in a week.

WELL, I was under the impression that housing was included in the cost that UMD gave us, which it should be since I’m paying them over $5,000 this semester to do absolutely nothing.  While I go to a university in Sweden that doesn’t charge tuition.  I wish America would get their shit straight and figure out this whole education cost thing.  The European students that are going to college here don’t pay there home university anything, they get their rent paid by their home country’s government, and they get a stipend every month!  So after this I had to wait about twenty minutes for this Egyptian guy to write an e-mail home to his parents, which he typed with his 2 pointer fingers.  You'd think a guy going to school for engineering could type a little faster than 3 words per minutes.  Then I arrived at my apartment and after being awake for 30 hours when I saw my bed was actually a cot I almost wanted to cry.   After telling myself a few times to quit being a baby I ate some of the really weird bread the international office gave me with soft cheese and passed out for like 12 hours.

The next day was a new day I went to check out the town, which is a small city of about 80,000 people with a lot of character and what seems like a lot of people who enjoy being here.  Everyone is biking around on their stupid looking European bikes wearing cardigans and scarves, but its beautiful.  Now I’m off for fika.

Tootles.

So here I am, on my way to Sweden...

Check ya later SUCKAS!

What the hell is it about taking a friend or family member out to dinner before they leave on a big trip?  Well, the longer the trip the more people you have to say goodbye to.  That means a lot of dinners.   Actually it meant a lot of breakfasts, lunches, dinners, drinks, shots, and great gifts… and seeing people that I haven’t seen for way longer than what the duration of this trip will be (4-5 months.) Never being able to turn down a free meal I think I may have eaten out at restaurant about an average of 2.3 times a day in the last two weeks.  It was great, people took a lot of pity on the fact that I am going to be poor and starving student in Europe for the upcoming semester.  It was great to be taken out so much by all of you generous assholes.  I say asshole because right now I am crammed in between two middle-aged men on a flight to Iceland with an uncomfortable amount of gas in my stomach.

Why am I sitting in a middle seat, do you ask?  I did the responsible thing and went ahead picking out my seats in advance during the online check-in process.  Well as I am awkwardly trying to cram my long board and back pack in the overhead compartment I see my window seat.  MY window seat that I took the responsibility to reserve ahead of time.  While waiting to get onto my first flight I noticed an overly affection couple in line (*gag*.)  After boarding I noticed Mr. Happy Hands was going to be in the seat next to me, but on the other side of him was a frumpy looking German woman with a mustache, and not his obnoxious international traveling companion.  At the very same split second I had this revelation the doucher opens his mouth and asks me “Hey would you be willing to switch spots for a middle seat two rows back?”  To which I awkwardly hesitated, to which he awkwardly and half-ass withdrew his request…

In the end I decided I didn’t want this ass-hat to be in my personal bubble for the next 5 hours anyway.  So I took up camp between a Geology professor from the University of Denver and a quirky guy who watched 3 episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and read romance novels.  I have a fart the size of a grapefruit traveling about a foot per hour through my intestines… but things are starting to make a turn for the best.  The air is so dry in this cabin that I’m starting to lose my sense of smell, which is fantastic because I think airplanes smell like stale make-out breath and elderly incontinent briefs.

Mom: "Shit this is going to be expensive."
Dad: "Well at least we saved $10 by not parking and just dropping her off at the door!"