Our exchange travels began with my uncertainty, for I was neither an adventurer nor a good navigator.

By Lund, I realised how fortunate it was to have someone wait for your train to pull into the station despite the winter cold. The dark ceased to be scary and even turned calm with someone to walk with through the winding paths.

In London, I found out what a meticulous planner looked like. I met him in the middle of the night amid a small drizzle. I left him after sun, wind and endless plains by the Stonehenge.

For Rome, I learnt how quickly he could react to Murphy's Law. Even as I knocked out on the bus, it was with a reassurance that the would find our friend. We parted in haste, after joyous pasta and pizza meals.

In Copenhagen, I discovered how willing he was to take care of me. How little was needed to satisfy us? We didn't need the Tivoli rides to amuse us when we amused ourselves.

In Stockholm, we got excited at the smallest thing- rooming in our only hostel experience. We walked past waterfronts and into the lengthening evening light. We watched as people were remembered.

In Amsterdam, I discovered that my threshold for Stroopwafel, sweet pancakes and spare ribs exceeded his. We learnt how difficult it was to walk 45 at the start and end of the day, yet how we managed to somehow endure it with perseverance, random observations and humming.

In Berlin, I met the history buff in him that neither of us knew existed. I discovered how bummed and pissed off he could be when he was conned. Even large quantities of Currywurst couldn't do what an email address did for him in alleviating the annoyance.

In Budapest, I realised the rather generous tipper he was for our walking tours (and generous buyer of Rosa Gelato). I learnt that we thought more alike than we predicted, and all that needed more work was coordinating it.

In Gothenburg, I realised how much I desired sharing food discoveries with him. Even though cooking and baking together was the most relaxing past time available.

In Oslo, I found how pleasant it was to exercise and hike with him, as we took turns to look out for each other on the trails up and down Kongens Utsik. I was reminded how much a lawful upright citizen he was, and learnt how much I loved his excitement at the puzzle.

We have reached the final part of our exchange long exploration together. I only had one travel companion this whole period, but I have happily learnt more about him, and more of both of us.

Walpurgis night.

The post I didn't get around to writing, after 30 April at Slottsskogen with Wayne.
It was really strange, because despite the eagerness on my part to see the Cortege, I was still sufficiently distracted to go get bubble tea, go buy groceries, head back to keep the groceries in the fridge.. Then despair that there wouldn't be time anymore to catch the Cortege.
Feeling sufficiently tired from tiny stressors of renting the bikes for the first time and not knowing how to deal with it, where the bike lanes were, how to get somewhere other than by tram... I was on the verge of saying that let's just stay home.

But fortunately we went out. Unfortunately we didn't have picnics and spent the afternoon waiting until 9pm, over beer and a delicious chocolate coconut cake.
Being entertained that we were unable to buy the beer we so set our eyes to (Norraland Guld) but were satisfied with its substitute. Being amused that we were asked for our ID by a smiling and happy service staff, because I guess we looked young? Being frozen by the wind on the side of the lake, as we got so happily entertained by the ducks and their antics.

It just felt like it was a regular day out. It didn't feel like Walpurgis, it didn't really feel like a celebration or festival the way it was happening in Lund. The way it should have been if I paid attention to which GU groups were going, or tagged along with larger groups of friends.
Which I didn't have.

It became one of the times that I became keenly aware that I didn't have many friends here.
I had a constant, a happy and reassuring constant in Wayne.
I had individuals, but I hadn't any ability to bring together a group.
Groups had their own dynamics already, that I wasn't and would not end up in. I would only feel a small sense of chagrin.

There weren't many people with whom I could share festivities with.
There weren't many people who would think immediately of including me; or there were, until schedule issues made it an almost certainty that I wouldn't join them. And they stop asking.
There weren't many reasons for me to go out, and breathe in new sights and sounds, especially when there was no one to do it with, no pushing force for it to be done.

Later in the night we got sufficiently amused by the large bonfire, which finally was lit.
Amused by the children who stood atop rubbish bins to see the witches light the bonfire.
Entertained because a Caucasian couple shifted in front to make gaps, presumably because they overheard me saying that I couldn't see, after they stood in front of us.

We left shortly after even as we saw people further ahead dancing to the partying music. At 9.30pm, the sun was finally down.
I know the night only just begun for some others, but it was enough for the night. With such limited activity, extensive conversation by the lake but heavy thoughts, it was enough.


But oooh we saw beautiful doggies on the bus as we headed back! Was so worried about stepping on them because the bus was pretty packed.

In spite of our mild language barrier, one thing came across very clearly during our lunch:
Our impending departure from Gothenburg and Sweden, as well as how we missed at least certain aspects of home.
For her, that was exemplified by watching Sakura, a symbol of spring in Japan, and missing the glorious blooms that her friends sent her on chat.
For her, she decided on the 21km large scale run that Gothenburg was hosting, to experience Gothenburg and explore the place with her run.

For us both, it was a desire to go out and meet friends and do shared activities together- lunch out, fika together, just not stay in the confines of our room and instead see more of this place that we will soon leave.
For us both, the thoughts of work in the future had a strange disalignment:
That we expected we would work in our home country, yet after experiencing Europe feel that somehow that isn't dreaming big enough.

In the conversation with the other two Swedish girls, their anchor why they wouldn't be able to or wouldn't want to is due to their relationship.

But perhaps due to the difference in our use of English and the absence of other languages to bridge the divide, it is all the more precious:
When her eyes light up when I said itadakimasu as the food arrived, to which she explained the rationale for,
When she anticipated my answer and said "Doraemon" in unison, which left us laughing so much,
When she noticed I called it Sakura, though she had been explaining it as cherry blossoms as it is in English.

I feel glad that the Anime I watch featured small things like these, and yet wish that I had picked up more Japanese before.

And so I get my first taste of being scammed of (in relative terms) a lot of money, and how Wayne reacts when he has been scammed.

Since I've related it a few times, it's easy to create this post. On the first day in Berlin, at our first stop the Berlin Wall Memorial, a woman came up to us with a clipboard. It stated that they were trying to petition for something for the Deaf community. Since it appeared to be just a petition, it seemed to be no harm- I proceeded to accept her pen and started to fill in the name, country etc.

The woman seemed really grateful, motioning to kiss my hand and making affirming sounds. I paused a moment as I was filling in the details- at the column that labeled donation amount. There was a small nagging feeling that it wasn't really right, and I prompted Wayne that there was a donation component. In that span of time, another woman had already approached Wayne with the same clipboard, and he had also filled in his details.

Should we really donate? He was alright with it, and said that he'll just donate €5.

I guess it's something different when you have cash on you in small numbers.  €5! Retrospectively, I would probably realise that donating SGD7.50 was more than I'd usually donate on streets. Perhaps it just feels different, since a similar issue wouldn't have arose if we were thinking in Swedish Kronor- where the smallest note was 20 SEK, which was what, SGD 3.50?

But at that moment I thought, okay, then I would too. I took my coins out and counted out that amount for the woman. I found  €6 in coins instead, but decided to hand it to her anyway. When I passed the coins to her she gestured to something handwritten on the back of the board. In blue pen and scratchy writing, it wrote €10.

It didn't click into place until a moment later with a wtf moment when she spoke. When she had previously just been gesturing, smiling and making affirmative noises, she told me that that was the minimum amount.

I should probably have stopped there, and stood my ground. It made me uncomfortable as she stared into my purse as I silently prodded around for more coins to give her. She pointed out my larger Euro notes and told me to give her that and she'll give me change, to which I resolutely ignored.

Her counterpart who had gone up to Wayne meanwhile was refusing to give him change for his €20 note, and in fact was trying to make him give her €50 for which she will give the change. I could sense Wayne's disbelief as he held back from outright anger at the even more demanding woman he was facing.

I gave her the coins of another €4. The woman on my side was very unhappy and frowning even as I gave her the coins even though it amounted to exactly €10, which grated on me because you could tell she wanted the notes but didn't have a good excuse to get more. The woman on Wayne's side was refusing to give him back the change and still making movements for his larger notes.

It was evident it was a scam, but I just ended up resolutely tugging on Wayne as we left the place. Just didn't expect it to happen at a WWII memorial site, where the peace and quiet on those grounds radiated introspection and a more open heart for the survivors of wartime past. On our first day in Berlin too, and probably we have only been lucky for the rest of our time in Sweden and in our travels.

I wonder if I should have just let Wayne rage at them, stand his ground, and make enough of a commotion that the rest of the tourists in the site would view those women with cautious eyes. I probably should have, and should have had an agreement beforehand about who would be the ones paying for anything (even tipping and donations), because then our total loss could have been at most €10, instead of €30. Yet I was also afraid of the other woman grabbing for Wayne's entire wallet.

It brings me to a tangent of how Wayne and I discussed why there were still beggars in Sweden. It was in a broader conversation about the welfare state, for which was a strong reason why I chose (such an expensive) Northern European country for my exchange.

The topic of beggars on the street surfaced again today when I went for lunch with my French exchange friend (of Asian descent) and his half Swedish, half French friend (who grew up here in Gothenburg and is graduating high school).

I asked the Swede if the beggars on the streets here in Gothenburg were really gypsies (as opposed to refugees or Swedish) as the French guy told me before... And the Swede said definitively that they were Romanians or specifically they were gypsies. He told me not to feel bad about ignoring or declining to donate to them (which explains the ambivalence I see in Swedes as the begging happens, with many of them shaking paper cups jingling with coins at people). Because apparently the gypsies don't attempt to get jobs, don't attempt to learn Swedish, don't attempt to put their children in schools... And he called them parasites on the social system, which was what the French guy said too before. A phrase I continue to cringe at. Not only at the mental image, but also of calling anyone a parasite, and also since the Swedes are usually very hesitant to label fault on most occasions and generally conflict avoidant and very accepting of alternative perspectives.

The Swede continued with an anecdote about how when he was in France he was approached by a gypsy little boy who begged for a cheeseburger, then when he bought it for him asked for a happy meal for his brother, and then requested that the Swede withdraw money from the bank to pay for his education. That no matter how much you give they want more and they won't be grateful.

The French guy was indignant also because he met with many gypsies who utilize their children to gain sympathy and money from unsuspecting people. The French guy said that the clipboard thing happened to him in Paris before and he felt bad for not giving until his parents informed him after that it was a scam.

I told him of how Bern was puzzled about how her host in Budapest was so negative on the topics of gypsies when she was otherwise a very nice and kind person, but the French guy said that it was to be expected. He said that in Europe it's a problem that they feel for, unlike us who fortunately don't have gypsies in Asia.

It's interesting because Bern was thinking about labeling and it's effects on crime prevention etc when the society assumes it's done by gypsies... But it seems like perspectives may be one thing, and the gypsies indeed reinforcing this is also another aspect of the problem.

But I get Bern's point. It's like assuming people who are jobless in SG or live on the streets are lazy when their stories are most likely more complicated and complex than that. And interventions that start with the premise of them being gypsies (like the premise of them being lazy parasites) will be very different from interventions to boost employment for low skilled workers or improve opportunities for non native speakers.

And then I wonder why maybe we don't see beggars in Amsterdam and Berlin per se, and wonder how the officials deal with these issues in different places.

But all in all, I worry that the SGD45 scammed from us ends up making Wayne jaded and cynical (though he probably hasn't based on today's conversation) towards giving to people who appear to be in need. It affected his mood the wholee day and more until we saw this board at the Topography of Terror, and he had an email to contact and take actionable steps.

Really, Murphy's Law appears to happen whenever we are counting on buying online and overseas for a birthday present.

It's so annoying that it sounds like the seller is not actually going to dispatch the puzzle, and just pretending that he has done so... Because every few days I end up seeing him drawn to puzzles, and have to hold the words back as I know that it may really not get into his hands.

Or worse, it arrives after I move out from Gothenburg. Seriously... And I had already ordered it significantly before his birthday to accomodate one month worth of transport time.

And it's the first birthday I actually celebrate for him. Hm. Annoying...

Huge Dutch Pancakes from The Pancake Bakery!!

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