Hej Stockholm!

          

So far during my stay here, I’ve learned that I arrived too early.  Grrreat.  If I really wanted to take advantage of the time I had left in Toronto, I would’ve left this coming Sunday instead.  But what’s done is done.  I also don’t regret it completely.  The last two remaining weeks in Canada have been hectic.  So hectic that I didn’t have any time to relax, or even get a decent night’s amount of sleep.  Now that I’m in Stockholm, with absolutely nothing to do but play the waiting game, it’s given me all the time in the world to catch up on sleep; not to mention having lazy days filled with reading novels, playing video games, and keeping in touch with people whom I already miss dearly.

           
The flight from Heathrow to Arlanda was a nice two-hour trip as I sat beside a gentleman from the military, having pleasant conversation.  His name, too, began with the letter H. How coincidental!  However, after the flight came a long waiting period for baggage to start circling on the conveyor belt thing-a-ma-bob.  Two very large and bulky baggages (is baggages a word??) were painstakingly difficult to lift onto the cart on my own.  Picture a tiny Asian girl helplessly struggling with two fifty-pound luggage that wouldn’t fit onto one cart.  Of course, I made them fit after mini trials of playing tetris.  The joints in my arms still ache every time I bend them.

           
As I made my way out of baggage-claim, there I saw my cousin - Liatrice, standing, waiting, in her beige puffy winter jacket and with dre beats wrapped around her neck.  Excitement filled my heart, mixed with shock, in disbelief that I was truly on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.  I took a deep breath and eagerly greeted her with a hug.  We stepped outside into the cold, the sky dark, softly lit by the moon behind the clouds.  I didn’t feel the European atmosphere on the ride home since looking out the window was similar to looking into a dim room.

           
I was welcomed into the house with generous open arms by my aunt.  She enthusiastically introduced me to my new room, complete with a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk by a window looking out on the rest of the charming suburban neighbourhood.  She also thought that putting my framed graduation photo next to my bed on a nightstand would make me feel more at home.  This cute and innocent gesture made me laugh.  I unpacked my clothes, placed them in my wardrobe, and spent the rest of the night resting, talking to Liatrice, and playing video games.


The hardest part so far is getting to sleep.  No matter how tired or sleepy I am, I can’t seem to doze off into REM mode (psych ftw!).  There always seems to be something on my mind that I can’t let go of.  Then my heart starts to race - loud and hard.  It’s weird.  Homesickness anxiety? If there was such a thing, that probably wouldn’t be it.  I’m not homesick yet.  In fact, I feel quite at home here.  I’ve come to the conclusion that the reason for this is that I feel like I’m on vacation.  This feels like one of the times I came to Sweden for a month; it hasn’t entirely hit me yet that I’ll be here until August.  It’s a strange thought, being here for eight months - a thought I can’t seem to accept or bring to reality as of yet.

Ps. Thank goodness for electrical outlet converters.