It started out pretty well. Slept in 'til 8, got dressed, brushed my teeth, washed the face, threw on some deodorant, and headed out to grab an espresso and a fresh croissant. I ate my pastery and enjoyed the quiet streets of Gamla Stan. And then I headed out to the city center to find a cheap purse to carry my waterbottle and small amounts of cash (I have a story to tell you about that waterbottle...I'll save it until the end of the blog). I found a good $6 bag at H&M. Everything looked great.... until I ran across a gypsy... who swindled money out of me.
I didn't see it coming, but I somehow walked away from his sidewalk game in tears. If you asked me what happened, I couldn't really tell you. One minute he was hiding a foil ball under three cups and asking people to tell him which cup the ball was under. I stopped to check out all the commotion. Then he said "young lady", called me over, asked me to try and I lost and he took my money.
I stumbled 'home' in a daze wondering 'how could this happen?' Wait. People warned me about these sorts of things. I just hadn't been warned about the 'foil under the cup' gypsy. My guard was down. I can't be a victim 'cause it's my own damn fault. I should have flipped that guy the middle finger (in the nicest, most 'recently baptized' Christian way) and said "ska-rew-a-you!" Instead, I handed my money over like a doe-eyed kindergartener. What a crock of shiznizzle. I hated myself for being such an easy target and swore "NEVER AGAIN!!!" to God and myself. This will not happen again.
Since my spending money for the day was gone, I decided to head to the Central Station to find out how to purchase my ticket for Sunday when I head off to see my cousin Sofia. I headed towards where the station was and got lost.
I stopped at 7-11 for directions which, by the way, has the nicest array of fresh Swedish baked goods that I have ever seen. No 7-11 in the US has anything even remotely as nice. We have stale maple bars, Swedes have cinnamon rolls the size of dinnerplates.
Anyway, I got directions from 7-11. And then I had to get directions from a banker. And, after wandering around for a half hour, I finally found the elusive Central Station. I tried to use my debit card to purchase a ticket for Sunday- and the machine rejected my card... not because I didn't have any money (even though I'm sure that gypsy would have liked to get his hands on all my cash, I still have a little in reserve on my card). No, my card just didn't work. And neither did any of my other ones. So I called the bank. The bank's automated system prompted me to speak my request into the phone, but, since I was in the station, all the commotion kept the fakey-computer operator from hearing what I had to say. The robot woman on the other end kept saying "I'm sorry, I didn't get that" over and over.
I went back to the hostel for the second time feeling defeated. I called the bank again and got a little feisty with poor Karen, my customer service representative. She didn't know what was wrong but blamed it on Sweden's card reading machines. Well, Karen, I'm here for a month, so I hope to Heaven that this gets worked out sooner rather than later or else it's going to be one card rejection after another.
I poured myself a cup of coffee from the free stash of coffee and tea in the hostel kitchen and called Mom. I didn't want to sound like a little babyish whiner, but I'm pretty sure I came across that way- but if you can't sound like a baby to your mother, who can you sound like that to?
After talking to mom, I set out to go back to the train station and attempt to buy my ticket again. With dogged determination, I boarded the metro like a local, marched my way up the steps to the station and....got lost again. Seriously.
I asked directions from a man playing "Winds of Change" on a guitar (see video below). He told me where to go, remarked on my outfit, asked me where I was from, etc. Somehow, the conversation turned to Alaska- when he heard 'Alaska' he spontaneously burst into a song about a gay eskimo, sang two verses and then asked me if I had plans for the evening. With a definite "yes" I quickly thanked him and found my way to the station.
I got the ticket.
I got back on the metro.
I got off the metro.
And, for the third time, I got lost.
But, the good news is that I found my way back- using logic and landmarks and strange sounding street names to steer me home.
I am here, and I will remain here until tomorrow morning when I head out agian...and I will not get swindled by men or hit on by a street musician, and definitely will NOT get lost.
I didn't have much time today to snap many pictures, but here's a few random ones for you to enjoy:
A beautiful display of desserts at a local cafe.
Doesn't get any clearer than this.Singer on the streets
(sorry for the pole right in his face it was the only spot I could stand).
Story about the water bottle: in the past 30 hours, I have misplaced my stainless steel waterbottle a total of six times. Yep, six.
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