Birthday Letters

Ah. Back to it.
As previously mentioned, last week it was my birthday and I spent a few days with friends in snowy Sweden. And now I have a thick-headed cold to show for it.
I went to Gothenburg. The chill air, frozen canals and lingering, three week old snow did nothing to deter me from throwing myself headlong into hedonistic oblivion. It’s a funny thing: A heroic amount of alcohol and a seemingly endless supply of wolf-eyed, flaxen-haired Swedish women and you barely notice the Scandinavian winter gloom.
So after a “quiet” night at a pool hall - which was thankfully free of any “St Patrick’s Day” nonsense - on Saturday night we headed into the centre of giddy Gothenburg, with it’s wide avenues and buzzing bars and clubs.

After an extensive pub crawl we repaired to a club called - aptly enough as it turned out - Sticky Fingers, the dancefloors of which were positively groaning with violently beautiful Nordic sylphs. Luckily by this time I was free of much inhibition, driven, as I was, by the demon booze and some strange inner mania.
The ground-floor dancefloor played an indie-ish mix of tunes. I dived right onto that and wasted no time in getting friendly with the locals.

Hejsan! To the dark-haired girl from Jönköping who liked Kings of Convenience. We danced together for a bit before having a drink by the bar. You seemed quite amused by the excited, burbling nonsense I was coming out with, what a pity you had a boyfriend.

Hej! To the blonde in the glasses from “a very Swedish town, up north” the name of which I couldn’t compute, let alone had heard of. Where did you disappear to?

Hej hej! To the really really gorgeous blonde girl who I asked to translate what the singer of the live band was saying inbetween songs. You were nice about it and proceeded to sing/translate the lyrics into my ear. You also later took me by the hand into the ladies toilets where, in one of the cubicles, we got to know one another a little better. It’s been a long while since that has happened, let me tell you.
If I had a bit more about me I would’ve even taken your phone number or email address or something. But, I’m afraid, I was very, very drunk and too hyper that night to think straight. I can’t even remember what your name was or anything.

And hej to any other girls who I continued to pester, like the two blondes in the burger bar afterwards who looked a bit horrified when I asked if they were going “partying anywhere later” when it was about 3.30am and I was obviously pissed out me head. Naturally I don’t remember anyone’s name, but tack så mycket all you sweet Swedisher ladies! I’ll have to go visit you again sometime.

Things were a bit more subdued after that. On Monday we even climbed a hill that rises steeply above the north part of the city which afforded us grand views of the docks, central Gothenburg and surrounding countryside. As it was caked in crisp, icy snow, climbing up this bastard was an interesting affair. Even the winding pathway was made perilous by the compacted snow. Fun, invigorating stuff though, and amusing seeing as we often had to scrabble about, almost on all fours at times, to keep from sliding right back down on our arses.

Anyway, that was my birthday weekend. Blogging may now continue. Just to warn you.