Trip to Sweden 2010

Part III

Tuesday, May 11th 

Today’s mission was to head south to Malmo so Margaretha could visit her dentist.  While her teeth were being investigated, Cebe took me down the street to look at what was Scandinavian’s tallest building upon completion in 2005, the 54-story Twisting torso.  It is a white building that looks like a giant grabbed the top of the building and twisted it slightly as the bottom remained fixed into the ground.  To maintain this look, all the windows are parallelograms. 

Not being fan of modern architecture, I kept my excitement far away from this moment.  In fact, I kept my excitement far away from this entire area.  It was clear that the local government was trying to completely reshape this once industrial area.  But from the overall appearance, it looked like the person in charge, halfway through the project, either developed short-term memory loss or simply died and got replaced by a stray cat.  None of the buildings really flowed together and nothing seemed to get finished.  Imagine paying about two million dollars for the penthouse unit in the Twisting Torso and having to park your gold-dipped Ferrari in a crummy, dusty, cinder parking lot. 

Thankfully, poor urban development did not foul our day for we decided to pick up some food at a fine sushi establishment that would be savored for dinner.  From here we went to a shopping area to buy a stool, area rug, small candles, a vase and some fabric.  Obviously, these items were not for me.  I’m not the type of guy that travels to other countries to buy stools.

We drove home and I took a long walk through the woods because I AM the type of guy that travels to other countries to walk through the woods like an international animal.  As I walked, I came upon areas of the forest that had been completely cleared out.  Cebe had told me that an insect infestation had made it necessary to cut down large areas of the forest.  This seemed a bit extreme to me.  I believe that they could have hired a few ninjas or some excellent snipers to take care of the problem (snipers that could nail a bug in the face from a mile away).

Later, we ate our sashimi salads and began to talk about business, salesmanship and my father.  Cebe said, “Your father, like me, is a very good salesman.  But I don’t mean like some type of salesman in a furniture store, I mean someone who can sell a product with intelligence.”  It is indeed a good thing my father did not sell furniture or the world would be one huge couch.

Cebe also discussed his business trips to Japan and how he ate globe fish.  Perhaps this doesn’t sound too dramatic but when you realize that if you incorrectly cut open a globefish, you cause a poison to be released throughout the fish’s body, thereby quickly killing whoever eats it, the drama intensifies.  For a restaurant to serve globefish, they must have a special certification to serve it since roughly 100-150 people die each year from incorrectly preparing it.  Why these folks simply don’t stop eating such a dangerous food and switch over to something more benign like pancakes or carrots is beyond me.  You can cut a pancake any way you like without fear that a deadly toxin will be released that will bring your body to bad town. 

We then moved into the living room where all that remained for us to do was the enjoyment of brandy and petit cigars.  Sleep then ensued and all was lovely. 

Wednesday, May 12th  

After breakfast, Cebe and I left to pick up his mother and bring her to the train station.  As we arrived to the station, the weather worsened.  The wind began to blow strongly and a nasty, cold rain fell steadily.  As I walked with Cebe’s mother, Cebe went ahead of us and looked down a set of stairs and greeted the 95-year old lady friend of his mother.  When she made it to the top, a fierce wind caught her and blew her over, causing her to fall down twelve or so stairs.  The woman’s daughter was with us so we all ran over to help her.  The old lady was lying motionless on her stomach on a small landing with her head hanging over the edge as her daughter cradled it in her hands.

The rain grew heavier and we did our best to comfort this tough old lady that now began to move and speak a little.  An ambulance was called for but it was 30 minutes before one arrived.  We did not move her for fear of causing further injury.  Finally, an ambulance arrived and took her to the hospital. 

As Cebe and I drove away, I remarked on how terrible it was that an ambulance took so long to arrive.  Once home, Margaretha told me this was because there is no longer an ambulance in Höör, making it necessary for one to come from Eslov, the next town over.  This is especially frustrating since taxes are so high in Sweden.  You would expect that in a town of 15,000, as Höör is, and in a country where you pay high taxes, that a 95-year old woman that just fell down a flight of stairs would not have to wait half an hour in the pouring rain for an ambulance.  Do those in charge think that all 95-year old ladies happen to be as tough as nails like this lady and able to take a tumble down concrete stairs and then strong enough to hold on for 30 minutes as they lie on the ground, getting soaked by ice water?

Fortunately, we were able to put our gravity-related troubles aside and enjoy a dish brought to life by Cebe that he and Margaretha encountered in Florence years ago.  It involved an egg over some asparagus that bathed themselves in a shallow pool of melted butter and willingly accepted a soft coat of sprinkled cheese.  This and a glass of red wine guaranteed a culinary victory.

Cebe and I then left the house to take care of various errands like two responsible males.  One of which was stopping by a farm of a metal worker.  We went inside and viewed all of his amazing pieces of work that included candle holders, door knockers, chairs, platters and even a few swords.

When we returned, Margaretha told us that she received news on the old lady’s injuries.  Thankfully, her only injury was a broken arm.  Old power!  This was indeed comforting news and left me feeling like Mr. Glass finding Bruce Willis' almost Unbreakable Scandinavian equivalent.

The other reason this incident was terrible was that something very similar happened two weeks ago in London.  I was walking down a very busy Oxford Street in the afternoon when an old woman, three meters ahead of me, tripped on the sidewalk, dove into the cement and began bleeding heavily.  Fortunately, her grandchildren were with her and helped her.  So perhaps old ladies with questionable balance should avoid my presence. 

As it always should, the night was again initiated with a glass of fine scotch.  This evolved, naturally, into a dinner that will not soon be forgotten.  Earlier that day, Cebe and I picked up some fresh perch fish that was caught from a large lake near their house known as Ring Lake.  The fish were ever so lightly breaded and fried with a little butter, leaving me to be ever so passionately satiated.  This edible pinnacle was followed with some dessert, a coffee liqueur, a small glass of brandy and a Romeo y Julieta, Number Three Cuban cigar that I collected in London for Cebe and I.  This trip was surely turning into death by pleasure.

Thursday, May 13th

After breakfast, I bid farewell to Margaretha and headed to the train station with Cebe but not before dropping off an outdoor table to his mother’s place.  He then dropped me at the station and I mustered up my best goodbye (you really should have seen it).

As my flight did not leave until the evening, I decided to walk around Copenhagen for a few hours.  I wish I could tell you that something exciting happened but it really didn’t.  I wish I could tell you that I played laser tag with a Danish princess or that I bore witness to the Festival del War Doll but it did not.  Coincidentally, the Festival del War Doll occurs in 27 different countries and celebrates the War Doll’s unstoppable ability to consistently get it right (in the general sense).

I then took a train to the airport and took flight to London.

And that’s that.

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