Vivian's Artistic Adventures: Goodbye, Stockholm. Hello, Motala.

This morning, at 6:30 AM, my phone's alarm clock woke me up and told me that it was time to head to Stockholm's Central Station- I had a train to catch.
I quickly gathered my clothing, electronics, and toothbrush, shoved them back into my crowded purple dufflebag with bulging zippers and headed to the station. A fellow hostel-mate, Jake (from Arizona) walked with me as he had to catch a ride to the airport from Central Station as well. He walked with ease, only a small bag in tow and I staggered behind, huffing and puffing, literally dragging my heavy art supply suitcase behind and struggling to keep my purple bag and backpack with me AND keeping my waterbottle from escaping.

The metro station (which I took to take me to the Central Station) sits only a few hundred yards from the hostel from which I left, but I somehow managed to arrive to the metro with Asthma, a major burn on my knee from constantly bumping into my scratchy art suitcase, and drenched in sweat. Hello, Stockholm, how'ya doin'? I'm a walking disaster.

Somehow dragging my belongings along on this trip was a lot easier in my imagination than in reality. If things continue like this, it's going to be a very comical, entertaining 6 months. You're welcome, world.

Somewhere along the way to the station, the top of my waterbottle unscrewed and sent my now scratched and dented stainless steel water container rolling down the sidewalk, spilling its contents and leaving behind a wet water stain all over for bikers and drivers to enjoy. It looked like someone had popped a large waterballoon with a fork. Thank the Lord for Jake 'cause he quickly ran after my escapee waterbottle and kept it from going into the street- and safe from oncoming traffic. I tell you, this bottle hates me- it's ALWAYS trying to get rid of me.

So, with another series of (unfortunate) events, I made it to Central Station's platform and patiently waited for my train (#53) to come. While waiting, I briefly replayed the hideous event that took place on the escalator just moments before- another luggage disaster starring Your's Truly.

Brief Story about the Escalator:
Vivian's gigantic rolling suitcase quickly glided onto the flat escalator stairs with Vivian following right behind. Silver Suitcase's front two wheels got caught on the upper escalator stair while the back two wheels stayed on the lower stair- thus pitching the 48.8 pound case backwards at a 45 degree angle and attempting to shove poor, unsuspecting Vivian off her feet- trying to send her tumbling backwards on the sharp, metallic steps of the moving staircase.

Don't worry, Vivian lived.
The End.

So, in summary: The luggage tried to buck me off the escalator.

My train finally came, I jumped/staggered on board with my stuff and slumped into a very plush seat. I looked around and noticed that this train wasn't like the others I had been on last time I was in Sweden. This one was very spacious, very clean, very cushy, very... pish-posh. Things were looking up. I sat, looking at the polished wood paneling and thought how nice the day's trip was going to be, riding in luxury.

And then the conductor came.

He took my ticket, looked at it and said in a very Swedish-ized accent, "This is First Class Car. You don't have first class ticket. You need to go to Second Class in the next car."

...no wonder it was so nice.

Before I launch into much more story-telling, I should tell you that the train ride was fun (although NOT pish-posh) and I arrived safely into Motala by 11:30. My beautiful, generous, loving cousin Sofia picked me up and has spent all day spoiling me with delicious food, fresh strawberries, strong coffee and lots of conversation.

I plan on being here for the next three weeks. My alarm clock will be set to wake me up early tomorrow morning so I can start sketching and painting.

Sofia: blonde, friendly, gorgous, patient, and generous. She speaks English really well and helps me learn her language whenever I ask for a word or phrase. She's already taken me to the store to buy some of my favorite snacks (Bilar, my favorite Swedish candy is kind of like a car-shaped gummy bear).

Kristoffer: Sofia's boyfriend is handsome, shy, very patient, and an excellent cook. He has a daughter, Tuva (sounds like: "Tou-VAH" who is four years old and as cute as a button.

So far, so good in the city of Motala. I will show pictures of what I get accomplished tomorrow. This blog is long enough.