Sarah

As a little girl I was afraid of a lot of things. One of my biggest fears was drowning and I had numerous of dreams where Lagan (the river) outside our house had overflown and the whole house was underwater. Because of this fear I also have been afraid of sleeping on a boat. The sea sickness that hit me everytime I entered a boat also did not help and I avoided spending time on a boat as much as possible for the first 22 years of my life.

 

 

So here I am, sitting on a brown not too comfortable chair, in Subvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok. My last night in Thailand I will spend on these hard chairs before I catch my flight back home at 9 o’clock. I will do one nights lay over in Oslo before I continue to Hamburg where I, one way or another, will get to Grevesmuhlen where my family awaits. I cant wrap my head around these last two month, how time just flies by. I still feel that I haven’t had enough, I am not satisfied.

The feeling of when home becomes away and away becomes home.

- I can't drink that kind of coffee. I did it once and it all came back out, Anton tells me when I order a Coffee Frappe at the bakery here in Khao Lak. I give him a look and thank him for the very important information while sipping on my drink.

A lot of nothing and everything has happened since last time I wrote. I was at Tiger Muay Thai, training four times a day, and I kept it up for a week. Energydrink was a savior between training sessions and I want to say that I slept very good at night. But I didn't cause of the footsteps echoing from either roof, walls or, well, inside the room. Every morning when I woke up there was a fresh little pile of dirt on the floor that wasn't there the night before, making me sure it was not only imagination. But it wasn't the footsteps fault that I left one week earlier than planned. After a kick in an elbow and a kick in a knee my toe surrendered, turning blue and swollen. And pointing in the wrong direction. It was the toe making me wanting to leave Tiger Muay Thai with its great training but with poor location.

I then did something I have never done before in my travelling life. I returned back to Lamai, Koh Samui. Never have I felt the urge to go back somewhere that strong and once my toe had given up, so did my inner battles of discussions. I spent one more week in Lamai with training and some last wonderful days with my people there while the rain was pouring down.

It was once again hard to leave once the week was over. But now I was heading for new adventures, waiting for me in Bangkok. Even though the trip with taxi, minibus, bus, boat and bus once again wasn't as easy as I had anticipated, and even though my travel agency agent told me that "I worry for you! Usual only Thai, noone english. I worry! I worry for you!" I still arrived in Bangkok 16 hours later. After being completely robbed by a taxi I came to Kho san Road where I met up with Caroline, Anton, Magnus and Erling.

My trip have since then taken a turn. During this week together I have been out jogging once. But with that said I think this was/is just what my body and mind needed/needs. In Bangkok we went to a roof top bar (at Thailands highest building), went in MBK (huge shoppingcenter, noone bought anything but some coffee from Starbucks), rode a lot of Tuk Tuk (with a questionable number of people inside) and went on a real ping pong show (making me completely speachless of what the ladies manage to fit inside their bodies while my friend next to me made big applauses shouting AMAZING). 

At the time of writing I am in my hotel bed, sharing room with other people who enjoys a good tune in the toilet, in Khao Lak. Some of us are taking their Open Water Certificate, while we already certified spend the days at the beach or taking massage. Life is good.

But I should have listened to Antons coffee advise. Three hours after the warning and the entire cup of Coffee Frappe I am the one singing on the toilet. Or at least forcing my roommates to listen to music while I'm in there. 

“Are you travelling with Air Asia?” the lady almost fully hidden behind the counter looked with kind eyes at me. A little confused I looked up at the huge wall behind her that was one giant picture with the Air Asia logo. I couldn’t be at the wrong counter could I? The lady smiled at me and told me that this is the right counter – but it is the wrong airport.

 

Since I left Koh Samui, Lamai and WMC Lamai Muay Thai Camp nothing has really gone my way. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to leave. I am queuing at the wrong lines, jumping on the wrong bus and end up in the wrong airport. Maybe it is a sign that I shouldn’t have left that place that made me feel so much at home? Maybe I am supposed to stay in that Muay Thai family where we laugh all training long and spend the evenings talking about everything and nothing at the market? Or maybe is it just a sign that I really should read through the tickets and the ticket information before I buy them?

This year has really been the year where I have left little bits and pieces of my heart all over the world. I felt at home behind a reception in Nicaragua, fell in love with diving and Utila Dive Center in Honduras and left a part of me in New Orleans. A part of my home will always be in Sweden and in Norway. And now I lost even a little bit more of myself in Thailand.

That is also why I have been so bad writing, I was busy enjoying. I have really developed my skills in Thaiboxing (which maybe isn’t that strange since it started out on zero) and I don’t think I ever before have been able to do this many push-ups on my toes during one and the same training session. I have learned how to count to ten in Thai after a very intense taxi ride after a night out. I have gotten the reputation as the Swedish girl who slept in the boxing ring after another night out and painted myself and friends all over with glow-in-the-dark-paint even though I just a few days before sat and damned the ones that did it. I have had a numerous number of tasty pad thais and only one ice cream. I have gotten pool-lessons and taught others the difference of Sweden and Switzerland. But most of all I have gotten some really amazing friends.



Spending time at five airports in one day made me, finally, end up in Phuket and Tiger Muay Thai, just like I had planned. With a fresh 30 day tourist visa in my passport I am now starting on my fourth week of training here in Thailand.

My toes has lost almost all their skin, the knees has turned into fifty shades of blue and purple while my nose is steadily turning more and more red (getting redder by the minute (is redder a word? It definetly should)) every day. Short said: I am enjoying the life here at Lamai, Koh Samui, Thailand.

 

It didn't start out too good with a sore throat already after first training. The second training sent me straight to bed feeling feverish and a running nose, making breathing a little bit more of a challenge than it normally is. I missed out on one training and probably should have missed out my third one, but after some very interesting (and some might call it doubtful) throat massage and Thai pills (might have been even more doubtful since I have absolutely no idea what they are) I am now slowly starting to get better.

 

 

Sundays are the only days that are free from training and I decided together with my new Indian friend to go for some sightseeing. We went to see Big Buddha, this islands biggest landmark both figure and literally speaking with its twelwe meter high statue painted in gold. After that we stopped for some oyster brunch (definetly one of the more interesting meals I have had in my life) and I finally had my first thaibeer. Singha. Nam nam. The journey continues and we start laughing at (what we thought to be a plastic) buffalo, until it starts moving against us and we zoom off. Before going home we decide to go to a waterfall but end up riding elephants. Not only sitting on their backs while someone is "driving" no. I got to r-i-d-e an elephant. My fear of riding horses is definetly gone.

 

The rest of the days of the week we spend training. First session is at 7 am to 9 am and then one more in the afternoon at 5 pm to 7 pm. It is hard, it is hot and sweaty like hell and so much more different from kickboxing than I ever thought it would be. Now when they watch me shadow box some of the very many instructors gives me an easy punch in the head "This Thai box! NOT kick box!".

 

My toe start to burn of the blizzard that have bursted open and I am no longer able to sit down and cross one leg over the other since my knees has swollen up. Well there is only one thing I can do. Time to go to the beach.

 

When I enter the airplane, the new Dreamline 707 (or similair), I am pleasantly surpriced. It is all brand new and with the latest entertainment system. If I were all about religion I would praise the Lord for giving us the knowledge to install entertainment systems on long flights. Now when I am anything but religious I will simply praise Norwegian Airlines for giving me a entertainment system with touch.

 

Earlier in the waiting area, waiting to board the plane that was steadily getting more and more late, I was losing my hopes for a nice flight. A baby, far too young to be allowed boarding an eleven hour long flight, started his/hers complaining about the family trip very loudly. The scream that would have made dead people turn over in their graves instead turned over the half-sleeping passengers waiting to board, oh no, the same plane. There was only one word on everyone's mind. Fuck.

 

Once I had entered the plane and found my seat my expectations were once again raised. The baby, and all the families with children that had the potention to become really annoying, were on a decent length where they were unable to disturb my up-coming engagement with the entertainment system. My neighbours seemed to interest as little in me as I in them. One of them only spoke Thai (which I actually could have used a little lesson in) while the other one couldn't really make up his mind if he should speak in Swedish, Norwegian or English to me. And I caught a glimpse of his passport that was German. When he got angry about not getting the food that he infact had not preordered or payed for I decided to not even try.

 

Anyhow, good neighbours leave you alone and the two of them did. It was me and the entertainment system. I was feeling very happy and satisfied with life when the airplane finally lifted off from the Norwegian soil. My anxiousness had finally let it's firm grip go off me. I was calm, feeling good and didn't mind spending the next eleven hours on the middle seat in a airplane.

 

 

Then my dearest neighbours both, at the exact same time, took off their shoes.

Suddenly it wasn't as pleasant anymore.

Cleaning out your room from your childhood means two things.
One: Your parents are selling the house you grew up in, which is tough.

Two: You have to go through all those piles of paper that have just been building up since you were six years old and started school, which is even tougher.

 

And it turns out that it is not only school paper you have been saving up on. I found a lollipop that I got from my very first boyfriend on Valentines day in 2002 with a paper to it saying that "This is a lollipop I got from ... on Valentines day 14th of February 2002. This note is written on 21st of December 2002, it is a liiiiiittle bit old!". Eleven years later I find the very same lollipop, just a little bit older. But still red and shiny and so tasty-looking. No, I did not eat it.

 

 

But old candy is not all I find. I have been saving Happy Birthday cards from various ages along with Merry Christmas cards. Merry Christmas cards with a some what alternative twists. Like the one I found from a very dear friend, probably sent during the time when we were addicted to Mean Girls since she signed it with "Luv Ya! The Slut". For not to mention all the lists of who liked who from the class of 2000, when we were only 10 turning 11. As you might hear I havent got that much done today, more than laughing my way through these piles of books, binders and loose papers.

 

Me, being back home amongst my old roots, also means that the summer of 2013 now is officially over. And you can take my lack of blogging as a proof of me having an amazing time. I dont even have words to describe the drunken and hilarious week in Mandal, or the weekend with concert, games and party with old friends that followed. I dont know where to start to tell you about the weekend when we got beautiful company from Malmö and threw the one and only party we ever had in the teeny tiny apartment me and my sister shared. What I can say is that the summer of 2013 might have been one of the best ones ever. Even if I were working as a mailman.

But here I am, in my old girl-room with a furry cat snoring next to me, about to get rid of all (almost) this old, well lets be honest, crap so my mum and dad can fit everything that is of use in their new apartment. Since I might not be here, or in this part of the world for that matters, when the moving begins I need to finish it off this week. Because from next week I will be in Thailand. I will be in Asia. For the very first time in my life. And I am going all alone.

I am tough.

Some moments in life you just want to freeze. You want to live in them forever and damn life that just continues. I remember sitting in a sauna in my hometowns swimming hall with my closer friends talking about life. I remember a sunday (or maybe it was any other weekday but it was most definetly a sunday mood) in Nicaragua when four of us sat by a table of a pizza restaurant, hungover like only you can be after a night with beer, nica libre and getting kicked out of the only night club open. I remember the moment when I walked through the gate at home, expecting a calm saturday night with movie, only to be surprised with a party from all (almost) the people I love going through all the holidays I had missed during my seven months travel. This weekend is also containing some of those moments. Moments when I dont question when, how or why.

 

It started already on Friday, straight after work, with a boxing match in the shadows of some trees with Magnus. We continued with some more people on a boat ride to an island where we cooked us some food and took a swim in the ocean. Sipped a beer in the evening sun before it started setting over the mountains. Even though I knew I had work the day after I couldn't say no to play games at midnight. Boardgames and cardgames.

 

On Saturday after work I fell asleep on the couch and woke up with panic that I had overslept. Threw on a black dress along with some make up before heading to Aker Brygge for an evening I didn't know what to expect. Erik, an old colleague, had his Thank you Oslo-dinner at a nice restaurant right by the water and I knew him and one more person going, We turned out to be around eight people, including Erik, with more or less only him incommon. And our humour. We didn't leave the restaurant until it was after eleven and moved on to an outside club with a dancefloor. Dancing, drinking and laughing all through the night, with all these beautiful people.

 

I woke up, terrified, when something walked over my chest. Phew, okay, it was only one of Erikas cats looking for company. Oslo has lately showed us that summer in Scandinavia is, in fact, possible and today the thermostat showed us over 30 degrees. Out in a park where we spent the day with ice cream, even more new people and some football. I headed home in the early evening to realise just how much parts of my body had forgotten what the sun can do to them. A little pinkish skin here, and there. Well, I guess that is normal when they havent been exposed to sun since March.

 

A coffee at an old friends apartment with television shows showing us that there are all kinds of people in the world. From the ones wanting to be a dog to the ones preparing for dooms day with a bunker underground and now trying to find love. A love who is willing to live with them underground when the time comes. The world, and the people, is amazing. You never stop to be surprised. 

Lately, I have had so many weekends with so many moments when everything just have been perfect. I haven't questioned life. I didn't ask why we sang our hearts out to Bonnie Tyler, raising the roof of both cars and saunas. How come we were swimming in the ocean and barbecuing marshmallows in the midnight sun. What amount of lack of sleep is too much to handle for some - mostly me.

 

Two weeks after I was walking home after finishing an exam that I had studied for for about four weeks. The weight was lifted of my shoulders and I was walking home, relieved and happy. So happy I was greeting people on the way home. People I later realised I dont actually know. That weekend also included so much dancing. It was dancing at a concert with my parents to dancing with my friends after free tequila and dancing on the street by my own on the way home. There was never any doubt, any questionmark hiding in the corner. 

I think we live the best when we do exactly that. Live. Whether it means on a paintball field with your friends, in a couch watching the favourites series with your sister or on a dance floor with people you just met. Those are the moments when we just exist here and now, without the worries or thoughts of what will happen next. The moments when we just want to freeze, and let everything be just the way it is right now.

Oh the life as a mailman... I have now gotten back to real life here in Oslo, capital of Norway where I once again spend my summer as a mailman delivering important letters, cards and packages. I like it, but being a sweede as I am, I simly can not not complain.

 

On the good side
- You get to work outside, in the sun!
- You get to meet really interesting (or at least special) people with questions you never thought anyone would ask a mailman.
- You get plenty of time to think. Think about what to have for dinner, how to solve the climate crisis in the world or why you only remember stupid song lyrics (like Pokemon theme song) but have a hard time remembering anything of actual use?
- You get to work out while working. Running in stairs and carrying kilograms of mail on your body.

 

- You get to work outside, in rain, thunder, lightnings and snowstorms.
- You get to meet really interesting (mostly special) people asking the same stupid question: "Is there anything for me in there?" (Which of course I wouldn't think would be a stupid question as long as they would told me their names..)
- You get plenty of time to think. Since you are on your own, eight hours a day with noone to talk to but your own head and the thoughts that plops up. Yes, it definetly drives me crazy.
- You get to work out while working. Running up and down those annoying stairs while carrying so heavy bags of mail that makes your arm shake so bad that you hardly can open the door.

 

And the worst
- You do not have a toilet you can go to whenever necessary.
- The kliché is for real: Dogs hate you.

 

Tripping down the streets in Oslo with a cigar in my mouth and a bag-in-box under my arm on Norways birthday. It was the 17th of May.

 

Like the latest few years we start with champagne breakfast a la France which means loads of wine and sweets. I, who has something of a probem with taking decisions, just feel that it is too much to choose from. Ending up with one lost sweede at the dinner table with an empty stomach trying to decide whether I should take a pancake, a waffle, a muffin or a piece of one of the three cakes. In the end I fill the hole on my inside with wine.

 

 

Miss out on the famous parade - like every year, and I move on from the French connection apartment to something more Norweigan. Caroline, Cathrine, Anton and Magnus had been around the city and we meet up for drinking and, eventually, eating. I am pretty sure that the cesar salad was amazing, but at that point I had already been under the influence of alcohol for a while. Even though it was only 5 pm.

 

 

Watching the sunset by the dock in Aker Brygge and after many attempts to take a decent group photo to capture the day, I give up. Turns out a Norweigan flag, bag-in-box and three umbrellas (even though there is no sign of rain) do not help a potentional group photo. Instead we move indoors and to a bar, full of rugbyplayers. When drinking for 12 hours it is bound to go downhill at some point, for us it was at Hannibals hybel.

 

 

I and Ida follow each other, I follow her home and she follows me to the bus, at midnight and wish us a good night sleep. Though once I step on the bus I change my mind completely, the night shall continue. I arrive back at the French connection just in time to witness some of the boys throwing away their shirts while singing loudly. Great timing.

 

Like so many times during my trip when I ended up dancing salsa in the middle of the night in odd places, I dance this night around a kitchen. The many lessons on dance floors, streets, restaurants, buses and fast food stops have paid off. Some was actually surpriced by my moves.

 

 

After 16 hours of drunkness I wave the white flag, more is no longer an option. On the way home I am talking endlessly to a father-to-be about the future. And when I say home, I mean Euns couch that she has neatly made for me.

It has been nine months and Oslo is still home.

 

With a bottle of Powerade and a bottle of swedish mustard in my bag I am once again on bus 324 heading for Laholm. Like so many times before. Taking the bus that means, not especially with these certain items in my bag.

 

It is amazing how so much can be different but still so much the same after four years. We haven't seen each other since graduation in 2009 and still I feel the exact same when we party together back then as yesterday. In 2013. I act just like I acted back then. I say the same things just like I said back then. I look the same just as I looked back then. But things do happen in four years, things do change. And there were some awkward silences at times.

 

So bring out the cards and fill up the glasses! It is time for drinking games. And those weird silent moments are getting extint as the volume of the crowd turns up. The alcohol, this modern drug, saved us and made us get more things incommon. We can continue beyond the "So what have you been up to lately?" conversations.

 

All of sudden, after eating sausages and meat leftovers on the kitchen floor while passing around a bottle of Sourz, the clock strikes 2 am and we decide to move out into the night. Which at 2 am never is a good idea. We are not in New Orleans - the city that truly never sleeps and you can go out and buy baking soda at 2 am. We are in Halmstad where most of the bars and clubs close around 2, 2:30.

 

We end up on the streets outside some bars, talking to people I haven't talked to for four years - some even more. Among them, I meet my very first kind-of boyfriend from when I was 15 years old (this is excluding the "boyfriends" when I was younger and didn't spend time with them, for example I was together with a guy for two years and we maybe hung out three times in total. Still it was a very hard break-up, even if we only were 11 years old, anyhow), who throws a 100krona bill at me with a "Go buy yourself a beer" before he disappears.

 

The night is coming to an end and we finish it where we started it, in Davids' apartment. The after party includes more car alarms than music and after exclaiming "But we can't go to sleep now! Now is when we start talking deep and go real" I lay my head on the pillow and drift off.

Wow.
I can not believe I have been travelling for 197 days, and now it is over. I have been home for three days now, probably spending most of that time in my bed. The airplane home didn't give me as much sleep as I thought - but the entertainment system did keep me entertained! It didn't only keep me entertained but also awake, for a total of 30 hours. 

Before I went home I sent some emails to my closest friends if we shouldn't hang out now when I got home. A little bit disappointed we scheduled 19th of May. I was back the 2nd. Feeling a little low I just said to myself "Of course they don't stop up their worlds or lives just beacuse I will come home". Little did I know that that was exactly what they had done.

 

My family tricked me away from the house with no problem or suspicions whatsoever and when only my sister and I returned back to the house I was all set for a night with chocolate, chips and The Lord of the Ring. I don't have words to describe how completely shocked I was for arriving back at the house and greated with a "SURPRICE". The house was redecorated with a long table and different decorations reminding of different holidays. The holidays I have missed being away.

It started out with my wonderful, precious glögg, before we got a real swedish christmas meal. Followed up with Valentine's day cake and Eastercandy. It was amazing. I dont have anything else to say. It was all so perfect. I'm one hell of a lucky person.

Jag kan inte minnas att jag ar magsjuk ofta. Det ar jag inte. Och inte matforgiftad. Och nu ar det andra gangen pa tre manader, vad hander med min annars sa toleranta supermage?

 

Okej, forsta gangen var det mitt eget fel. Jag gjorde nagot tokigt med en kyckling, vilket vi alla vet att sjalvklart ska man vara forsiktig med kyckling. Jag var det - eller jag trodde uppenbarligen jag var det men sa vart de rotmanad och ja, the rest is history.

 

Nu sitter jag har i Puno med ena javla problem. Dunder-thai-piller verkar inte ge mycket till verkan sa, pillervanlig som jag ar, ska jag snart testa dunder-spanska-piller. Om det nu ar dunder aterkommer jag med. Men jag hoppas verkligen att de ar det sa att jag kan hanga pa o-hoppning imorgon pa Titicacas handgjorda oar, nagot i sig helt sjukt. Sen aker vi vidare till Bolivia! Och jag tanker att det bara kan bli battre!

 

Och sa ska jag nog inte ata kyckling. Typ nagonsin igen.

Det var forresten de jag at nu ocksa, i just have someone else to blame for it!

Om ett gott skratt förlänger livet, då har jag definivt säkrat mig själv ifrån olyckor under de kommande åtta månaderna. En tema-lös middagsbjudning med fokus på mat och hemmagjorda gotterier stod på lördagskvällens schema. Det var en kväll med charader, kaffe i vinet, disneymusik, Pehr-skämt, husvisning(ar), godiskaktusar och inte minst goda människor. Mina människor.

 

 

Det var en gång en stad. En mycket fin, lite större stad med kanaler, vackra broar och lutande hus överallt. Stadens invånare var ett trevligt och öppet folk, likaså de som reste dit för att arbeta eller bara resa. Denna staden var en väldigt öppen stad på många sätt och vis. Alla som bodde där kände att de kunde vara sig själva, oavsett religion, sexuell läggning, etniskt ursprung och yrkesval. Ingen behövde känna sig utanför och det fanns något för alla. Såhär såg också alla de resandes som kom till staden, i tusenvis, från alla delar av  världen.

 

Men det fanns många olika anledningar för att man tog sig turen just dit.

 

En del reste bara för stadens finhet - och med all rätt! De som bodde i staden hade troligtvis mer nytta av en båt en än bil på de små vimliga gator och gränderna som gick omlopp mellan kanalerna. En hamnstad i all sin prakt och det fanns också de resanden som kom till staden för att uppleva dens historia. Det handlar om båtar, skepp, sjöslag och en virtuell båtfärd. En virtuell båtfärd som man kan tro ska vara en flumeride-tur men egentligen bara är olika rum att gå igenom. Men inte mindre, om båtens historia.

 

De finns helt säkert de människor, men intressen jag inte kan förstå mig på, som reste till denna staden just för att få sina "intressen" tillfredsställda. För i denna fina, inte alltför stora stad, är mycket lagligt. Mycket som i andra städer inte är det. Här finns det förbjudna åmandes i skyltfönster med röda lampor, alltid redo och alltid öppet. Många undrade om det verkligen var ett frivilligt val eller något värre, men de resandes skulle troligtvis aldrig få veta. Men även om du i början inte kan riktigt förstå det, så blir det obehagligt efter flera gator.

 

Och så finns det en typ av människor som vallfärdades till denna stad. Jag tror dem kallade sig själv livsnjutare, medan de flesta andra bara kallar dem hippies eller junkies. För återigen finns det "intressen" som endast denna staden kunde tillfredsställa utan att någon behövde gömma sig för lagen. Staden håller i nutid på att ändras och hur resanden kommer se ut efter det, vet ingen förrän efter jul. Nu var allt öppet och mer än välkommet och många resanden tog chansen när dem väl kom till staden. Även om det visade sig vara aningen ovärt och att hålla uppe en konversation inte var möjligt.

 

Så var det de resanden som mig och min vapendragare Klara som satt drickandes en onsdagskväll långt in på morgonen, för att sova 40 min innan det var dags att checka ut. Så var det de resanden som oss som satt utslagna på en bänk på torsdagen, svärandes över bakfyllan, när andra resanden går förbi och utbrister "OH look at them! They are soo hiiiiiigh! I wanna be like them!"

Aaaah. Ytterligare en dag i Frankrikes huvudstad har nu seglat förbi. En mycket sen sommardag med strålande sol och tjugo grader gav mig ypperliga tillfällen att strosa runt och njuta av staden, livet och helgens Disneyrus.

 

Ja, Disneyland var helt awesome. Ungefär som jag hade föreställt mig att det skulle vara när jag var åtta - fast lite bättre. Lite snyggare. Lite vackrare. Lite fantastiskare. Musiken som bara satte pricken över i:et och gjorde mig generad över att jag i 22års ålder får gåshud av Disney. Två dagar och extrema mängder pengar senare, men så värt det. Bilder kommer när jag återvänder till min bas, Laholm.

 

Annars går dagarna här på bra. Jag spenderar förmiddagen själv med lite träning, tv-serie eller promenerandes till klockan blir ett. Då möter jag upp Eun med klasskamrater och vi tar oss lunch följt av kaffe och deras läxläsning. Jag antingen läser spanska eller snackar skit med en som inte har läxor. Hittills har det mest blivit skitsnack. Vi strosar runt, upplever, ser, shoppar till kvällen kommer då vi tar en middag (i stort sett alltid ute) och ännu mera skitsnack. Har fått höra historier från alla världens hörn och tips om ditt och datt. Sen blir det hem till ett avsnitt Here comes honey boo boo eller två innan vi sover sött. Ironiskt nog oftast jag före Eun, som går upp två timmar innan mig.

 

Mamma och pappa, håll i hatten nu, för jag har blivit vuxen! Från en kräsen och envis unge som petade ur tryffeln ur tryffelomeletterna har jag nu frivilligt (och betalt för det) prövat både sniglar och grodlår! Haha! Inte ens jag såg den komma. Men det känns faktiskt lite coolt. Nu kan jag berätta historien om den gången jag var i Paris och åt grodlår i ett av deras China Towns. Som inte alls var lika uppenbart som det i Liverpool.

 

Kan också berätta historien om när jag var och köpte vandringskängor i en fransk specialist butik på franska. Ska tillägga att jag inte egentligen kan ett ord fransk mer än Jag heter Sarah och en sång om en stor elefant. Butiksbiträdet kunde självklart inte någon engelska men med en del fransk-engelska ord och mycket kroppsspråk gick det vägen. Det var verkligen spänning i vardagen.

Sega i påsen _ O _ O R - fick mig att vilja slita håret av huvudet när jag till min fasa insåg. Jag klarar inte av ett juniorkryss. Ett barnkorsord där första pris var en glasscheck, värd 25 kr. Lösenordet fick jag ut och det var GOSIGT. Men inte fick jag ut hela korsordet utan att fråga min kära mor. Med ens kände jag mig inte som 22 år gammal.

 

Så nu har jag faktiskt flyttat hem från Oslo som var mitt hem de senaste tre åren. Som gjort att jag blivit mästare i Svorsk, fått upp ögonen för kampsport och insett att även jag kan göra saker i köket. Även om det every now and then ger mig en matförgiftning. Jag har fått mycket mer stå-på-anda och vill hellre möta min rädlsor än gömma mig bakom familjens prickiga soffa. Och jag har provat på mycket nya jobb.

 

Som förvirrade 19 åringar anlände jag och Hanna till Oslo den 25 augusti 2009. Med en stor mängd CVn och uppkopplade på grannens internet började vi vårat jobbsökande. Redan innan vi åkte upp hade jag fått en samtal från en Camilla på McDonalds så dagen efter ankomst hade jag en intervju bokad. Och trots en del språksvårigheter gick intervjuen vägen, dagen efter blev jag erbjuden jobb med uppstart någon dag senare.

 

En fast anställning på alla våras Donken där jag höll mig kvar i hela fyra månader. Och även om det var långa månader så lärde jag mig mycket om stresshantering, frenetiska pipanden, vad som är ett laaaan (av en kines som inte kunde säga r) och hur det är att jobba natt. Jag träffade mina första vänner, varav en blev en av mina bästa och som jag nu ska resa iväg med i åtta månader.

 

Men då mitt första Norge-mål var att tjäna massa pengar och sedan ut och resa (ett halvår senare, inte tre år) så var jag självklart inte nöjd med ett jobb. Ett av mina utdelade CVn gav mig napp på ett mycket litet men centralt 7-Eleven. Där jag säkert jobbade i hela en månad innan det gick i konkurs. Hann under den månaden i alla fall äta min beskärda del av sjokoladeboller till personalpris, 4 kr styck.

Efter det fick jag ett nytt extra jobb som postbud på lördagar. Så tre av fyra lördagar gick jag ut med post i snöstorm och 30grader kyla under min första Oslo-vinter. Det var inte helt lätt att köra fram en tung postvagn genom snövallar på 40 cm, men med våld och vaselin går allt. Fick även under min Posten-tid köra bil för första gången i Oslo, som gick lite hur som helst när man hamnade bland spårvagnar, bussar och på fel håll på de enkelriktade gatorna.

 

Strax innan jul slutade jag på McDonalds och tog bussen hem för att fira några kompisars 20årsdag och tappa en ny mobil i en toalett. Den 2 januari var det tillbaka upp till Tigerstaden och två dagar senare hade jag första dagen på mitt nya jobb på SiO, Studentkafeene i Oslo. Jag minns hur skönt jag tyckte det skulle vara att få slippa stekoset och röken från frityrerna. Bara för att få höra jag skulle jobba ihop med en italienare på universitetets hamburgerbar Tank.

 

Men där blev jag! Provanställningen gick ut i juni då jag blev erbjuden fast jobb och även slutade på Posten. Jag skulle inte komma iväg och resa i det närmaste så lite mera liv och lite mindre slit var planlagt inför hösten. Det blev hela 1,5 år på Tank hamburgerbar och en italiensk bror extra. Hösten 2011 fick vi däremot möjligheten att få göra något nytt och öppna det första bageriet på Blindern - Oslos universitet. Han fick leka med sin foccacia och jag fick fullupplärning som bagare med fullt ansvar för bröd och sötvaror (gjærbakst som vi så fint hade som samlingsnamn). Och mycket av det jag lärt mig har jag ändå tagit vidare, just nu. Innan allt faller i glömska. När jag väl tackade för mig och för min tid på SiO hade jag lärt mig mycket om service och kakor och bröd och, inte minst, mig själv. I tillägg har jag även lärt känna människor från alla delar av världen och utvidga mitt språkförråd med olika nödvändiga fraser som En jägare utan en hund är en bra jägare - på franska. 33 folk från en speciell italiensk stad spatserar när de går in i staden - på italienska. Och såklart Vad heter du - på portugisiska.

 

Min sista Oslo sommar spenderade jag på plats till skillnad från tidigare då jag varit på resande fot lite här och var. Det var dags att jobba 200% så att pengarna till den äntligen kommande resan skulle finnas. Jag återkontaktade min gamla chef på Posten som gav mig ett sommarjobb utan problem och fick ett mycket oväntat samtal från en restaurang/bar i Sandvika, lite utanför Oslo. Så om dagarna gick jag milavis med post och postvagn medan jag om kvällarna antingen stod bakom baren och serverade öl, eller på andra sidan och drack öl. Det var jobb 7 dagar i veckan, och lite då och då ett 16h jobbpass. Men det var ändå en jävligt rolig sommar där jag alltför många gånger försökte lära mig själv att det inte är så bra att efterfesta fram till kl 06:00 när man ska på jobb 10:00. Men så lever man ju bara en gång.

 

Och här sitter jag nu, arbetslös för första gången någonsin. Utom de två dagarna när jag flyttade till Oslo och hade intervju. Jag ska dessutom förbli arbetslös i en 9 månader till.

Jag saknar att vara sysselsatt och lite mindre panik uppstår när jag tänker på att jag inte kommer jobba på tio månader. Efter ytterligare en vecka kommer troligtvis mina tankar att låta annorlunda och efter ett antal månader kommer jag väl aldrig att vilja jobba eller göra något igen. Men just nu är jag rastlös till tusen.

 

 

Så i ett försök att hålla mig sysselsatt har jag slängt på mig gamla SiO-paltor, roffat åt mig pappas Superdad-kockmössa och varvat med bakning av sjokoladeboller och spanskaläsning.

 

 

 

 

Ord kommer senare. Just nu får en bild hålla.