TGFB (Thank God For Bathingsuit)

I'm sitting in the lobby of what is hands down the most disgusting establishment of my life. I'm quite literally gagging on the stench of acrid cigarette smoke that hazes the entire building like the place is being Terminex-ed. (edit: now someone just lit up a joint. Apparently that's legal here. I fully expect to see people snorting coke lines off the toilet seats when I go to the bathroom). I just couldn't bring myself to lay on the filthy mattress in the 10-person room where I was greeted with a dirty sock in my bed upon arrival. All I wanted to do was take a shower, but when I walked in the place was like a flashback of the YMCA women's locker room - without they saggy old lady breasts everywhere. Averting my eyes, I ducked into one of the curtained stalls and realized with horror that there was nothing separating me from the naked woman in the next stall except a thin sheet of completely clear glass. I stood there a moment, fully clothed, thinking can I do it? before panicking and running for my bathing suit. I hate this place. Denmark in general. Maybe it's the pouring rain (Sarah and I went to see "Transformers." Did you know movie seats are reserved seating here? Or that they don't let you in after the movie starts? This could never exist in the American culture of movie hopping, cell-phone chatting populace). Maybe it's the fact that I'm running on Nutella and very little to no sleep, but Denmark sucks.
Here are the few good memories I will take from this place:
1. Dancing to Junior Senior at a German beer hall in Odense.
2. Visiting Hans Christian Anderson's museum.
3. Reading Harry Potter on the train (Emily, I'm about 1/2 way through. We'll talk when I finish).
If you're reading, say hi!
Love, Haley

Fight for Your Jeans!

I'm sitting in a 7-11 in Gamla Stan, Stockholm's Old Town. Surprisingly, not only are 7-11s really cool here, they also all have internet connection. Across the narrow street is a hat (hott) shop next to a jeweler. Every type of people are passing, from Swedish tourists (from other areas of Sweden), hip kids, goths, families, old people... The Swedish are not only the most fashionable, but the guys here are the most attractive I have ever seen in my life.

We met a group of four Swedish boys (literally, as they were only 19 and 20) at a club called Debaser near our hostel (this place, I am convinced, would have all the San Luis hipsters green with envy as it attracts Stockholm's most fashionable hipster culture). We left Debaser for another bar, Skeppsbar, and ended up staying up to see the sun rise at 3am. We ended up drinking cheap beer and dancing at the dock with a Kurt Russel look-alike Sarah dubbed "Captain Ron" after a movie.

The boys were kind enough to take us shopping the next day, as Sarah was looking for some tight Swedish jeans (everyone wears them tight here. No need for boys to buy girls' jeans). At one store we met an...interesting fellow named Gustav with long blonde hair and a pair of his own skin-tight jeans. They were outrageously expensive, but I couldn't help trying on a pair whose zipper I could barely close.

Me: I think I might need a bigger size.
Gustav: (grabs the front and pulls) No, these are perfect. They stretch 2%. If you get a bigger size in two days they will be saggy in the butt - and that's not sexy.

He proceeded to tell us that sometimes they are so tight he needs to come into the dressing room and help the girl button them, adding "Fight for your jeans!"

I ended up buying some red boots at a vintage store that my sister will hate. They're cute, but will unfortunately be a hassle to carry.

I can't believe how lucky we were to run into some natives who were able to show us a cool side of Sweden, spending their entire day off with us and teaching us a multitude of Swedish phrases. Swedish is one of the most complicated languages I've ever heard.

(Phonetically):
Hey = hi!
Hey doh = bye
Tak = thanks
Oo shek to may = excuse me
Shay = girl
Killuh = boy
Ool = beer
Op rok = wasted (literally "monkey straight")
Fisk mos = seagull

Stockholm Syndrome

The awesome guy at the front desk of our hostel, Fredrik, is letting me use this computer for free and I don't want to take advantage, so I'll make this quick.

1. Our hostel was built in 1650.
2. It is intimidating to not understand anything anyone says - very disturbing.
3. Land of IKEA!
4. Countryside: wheat fields, pine trees, wildflowers, red barns, white cows, clear blue sky, and fluffy white clouds.
5. Lots of lakes, ponds, and other bodies of water.
6. Language barrier is killing me. The only word I know so far is Tack = Thank you. We tried to get some groceries at a little store and had trouble because everything is in Swedish and there is just no guessing with that language.
7. There is a kitchen in the hostel which makes cooking great.
8. The rest of the girls left me for some dumb expensive sculpture garden I didn't want to go to, so I am on my own for the rest of the day. I'm going to wander (don't worry, Mom).

Love you all!

Au Revoir, Paris

This morning I woke up and watched the sky outside our window change from grey to blue - well, really grey to lighter grey.

It's raining the morning we leave Paris. Now it's on to Stockholm.

Leave me some comments so I know you love me :)

C'est ca, la jolie vie

Happy Bastille day!

Forget New York. Paris is the city that never sleeps. It's after 2:30am and people are still setting off firecrackers in front of our hostel. Earlier we went to the gardens in front of the Louvre and tous les petits chiens were running underfoot with their tails between their legs, trying to get away from the sound. From there we could see the firework show at the Eiffel Tower (unimpressive, but maybe it was just because we were so far away).

Today the Louvre was thankfully free and Sarah and I joined the crowds of rabid tourists making a beeline to the Mona Lisa. It really annoys me that most of the rest of the museum is quiet - people pass ancient sculptures, Corinthian war helmets, Albrecht Durer paintings, just to see a couple of the more well-known works like the Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, and that biotch, Mona. Sarah and I remain unimpressed, especially once we saw the special "DiVinci Code" audio tours. We looked for the Virgin Mary's tomb, but it appears Dan Brown lied to us.

Our hostel is across the street from "un MacDo," but the local food here is AMAZING. Our hostel serves a huge free breakfast of croissants, bread, cereal, jam, hot chocolate, coffee, and orange juice. Delicious. French people must miss the cafe culture when they visit the states.

Apparently there is only a two week period that merchants can have sales here and it's now, so everything is 30-70% off. Tomorrow we might browse the "soldes" that line every street (I've never seen so many shoe stores in my life) and visit la tour eiffel. We're going to the top!

Pre-flight

Windmill, "Plastic Pre-flight Seats"

Two days from now I'll be in Paris. That is, if I don't get lost trying to find my way from Charles de Gaulle airport to the hostel, so wish me luck in remembering my high school French.