It’s a snowbound dose of Unrequired Reading! Click somewhere to continue!
I’m just not in much of a writing mood. I’m enjoying Stockholm (on to Lund/Malmo tomorrow, before crossing the border to Copenhagen), but interviewing all these people is kinda running me down.
Took some pix this morning, but they didn’t come out great. So I put some jokes together instead.
I guess the problem is, the big picture of Stockholm is sorta old-countryish, but the beauty of it is in the little touches, in the way that crazy design sense plays itself out all over the darn place. Like in this lamp on my night-stand, which I thought was askew first, but turned out to make a perfect cone of light on my book. I wish I was here on vacation, because I’d ramble on for hours.
Anyway, here are some other pix:
The university building that houses the bioprocessing group that I interviewed this morning.
Didn’t Tim Duncan foul out of the Olympics because of one of these?
With Sly & Robbie?
I was very disappointed not to find a Randy Moss jersey in here.
Dill marinated salmon with crayfish tails in mustard
Breast of duck with chantarelles and potato muffin, herb and garlic bouillon
Apple parfait with cinnamon and sweet-pickled cherries.
I violated my “don’t mix your drinks, you idiot!” rule by drinking the following in 5 hours: G&T, beer, fruity-tasting vanilla vodka concoction, red wine, two capuccinos, beer, and 4 cigarettes.
But I had a nice evening, with good conversation, and I didn’t smoke NEARLY as much as this guy.
Here are some pix from the first two evenings. I haven’t taken a ton of pix, and I haven’t written much about the city (I DO keep a notebook, okay?), but I’ll try to work on that tomorrow.
Down the block.
The sculpture outside an academy.
One of the locals.
Pedestrian walk, on the way to dinner tonight.
Take it to the bridge.
Look, kids! Parliament!
Another view from the restaurant.
Sure, the flight across the Atlantic was turbulent throughout, so I couldn’t sleep.
Sure, a 200-lb. guy passed out while walking down the aisle and collapsed into my seat, where I happened to be sitting (I caught him and got him (somewhat gently) onto the floor; he just fainted from a combo of nerves and getting up quick after sitting for a few hours. He was fine, and came by to apologize to me for any problem he caused).
Sure, Paris’ passport control setup is so bad that I got onto my connecting flight with 10 minutes to spare.
Sure, the seal on my hair gel wasn’t tight enough, so there’s now a “medium-hold” film over many of my toiletries.
Sure, the hotel didn’t have a clean room for me, so I had to walk around the city with my PR contact for a few hours, insuring that I would reach the crucial 24-hours-awake mark that always bodes so well. (The lack of sleep kept me from remembering to take my camera on that walk, which is a problem since it was a beautiful meander around the city.)
But now I’m chilling out in a nice hotel room in Stockholm. The Airport Express adaptor’s working like a charm, so’s I can type away here in bed.
Despite any inconveniences, it remains a beautiful life. (Sure wish I didn’t have to iron my shirts, though . . .)