My day started with a lovely walk around sunny Gothenburg.
But then my tale begins:
Many people in Sweden are lovely. In fact they all come up to you and talk to you quite happily. We have bonded with people at the irish pub (over rugby talk... check me out. I like watching rugby. Give me a few pints and I actually start yelling and stuff too. LAD), I have even met a lovely chap just walking around the streets taking photographs.
I think it is my english nature makes me wary of strangers. Like, when they first come up to me my automatic response is... "OHH NOOO they are going to kill me." In England, if you sit next to a stranger or god forbid you strike up a conversation with someone on a bus or train then you are automatically a little bit odd... or a tad annoying. (except round by my parents house where the bus is fill of lots of old people who love to talk to you about their daily activities.) But actually, I have found the reverse here.
Except for today... I was suddenly pounced apon by a SCARY BUS MAN.
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| Yes this is a self-photo. FRECKLES |
Scary bus man sat next to me and firstly stunk of alcohol and then was trying to say something to me in Swedish whilst I flailed my arms going "English". He then grabbed my knee and started talking more swedish. He finally realised I had no idea what he was saying and then kept pointing at my knee enough for me to realise it was the tear in my jeans that he was interested in. To cut this story a tad bit shorter... scary bus man told me to buy new jeans and when I tried to say I was poor he then spoke in perfect English (the little trickster) "Your boyfriend should buy you some then. If you are in Sweden you should wear jeans without tears in them."
So there we have it... scary bus man's advice for today. Do not wear ripped clothes in Sweden.
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