31 October 2002, Entry 1

So yeah, I’ve been doing a bad job of updating at least 3 times a week like I had said I would. So shoot me. Actually, don’t shoot me, I am too pretty to be hurt. Actually, it is good to know that you guys actually read this from time to time, if only to laugh at my expense. Which is fine with me.

So besides Steve’s visit, I also got a visit from other members of the Scooby Gang, known as IT audit. The gang consisted of Artie the One Man Party, Timmy the New Hire, Pammy Pam Pam, and Momma Palmer (Pam’s mommy-in-law). They were fun to hang out with during the week were be both in Stockholm (see my previous entry on the UK because I had to leave the Scooby Gang during their second week in Stockholm). I went out to dinner with them a couple of times and did some touristy things with them, and then Tim and I went out for drinks, including at the ultra-cool Ice Bar. It was a pretty good time and a welcome visit.

They also saw my new apartment, and liked it as much as I did. Mamma Palmer was impressed with the wood floors. Pammy Pam Pam quite enjoyed the warm and sunny feeling of the apartment. Art enjoyed the buttons on the kitchen stove. And Timmy the new Hire just liked the apartment. So with such rave reviews, the apartment is a keeper…

…however, there are somethings that I have yet to understand about the apartment. The washing machine is fantastic; however, the dryer really isn’t drying as much as “moistening” my clothes. And the washing machines sometimes scares me, especially in the spin cycle, because the cycle is so aggressive that it sounds like it is trying to create a vortex to suck me into the 7th layer of hell. Also, the freezer is keeping things warm, while the microwave is keeping things cool. And no, I don’t have them confused…I just don’t know how they work. So in the meantime, until I get the freezer working, I can’t do the kind of cooking that I want. Actually, I can, I just have to go to the market everyday, which is another story in and of itself…

…you see people, going to the market is the US is mostly like going to the market in Sweden, except not really. Things have the same general organisation, but the selection is different and I can’t quite understand the language yet. So basically, I stick to orange juice, fruits, diet coke, swedish meatballs, strawberry jam, a selection of cheeses and breads, pastas, and when I want something chocolately, Nutella. This is my diet, besides the sandwiches I have for lunch at work. And it didn’t help I was standing in the “7-items or less” checkout with 40 items. Contorted looks of judgement crossed everyone’s faces. By the way, did I mention that I am dropping weight? Some nights I stand outside my flat with a sign that reads “hungry. will feed you if you cook food.” So far, no takers. If I were in England and held that a sign that said “free dental care if you cook for me”, people would be lining up around the corner. Bloody right they would!

So in terms of work, it’s been busy. I am not too sure what I am doing, but everyone seems to think I am successful at it. “Oy vey!” an ancient Chinese philosopher once said. Yeah, oy vey! indeed…

Well, that enough pearls of wisdom for the moment. I think I’ll create one of those notification lists so that you know to come to visit me when I’ve updated my travelouge.

Hasta la pasta! (hey, it’s the only think I can make here until someone shows me how the oven works)

Ciao, Rodney

Hello journal. So it has been a whole week, hasn’t it? Oh well, you know that I was just saving up some good stories to share with you. I’ve just spent the last week in the UK, and it was a good trip, but now that I recently had an apartment, it felt a little wierd that I would have to go back to the road. I wanted to stay in my apartment and get used to living in Stockholm a bit more, but I know that I will have plenty of time for this later.

Anyway, I was traveling to Portsmouth, UK…a little place that I like to call “Chunky Acres”. Not because the peopel there are fat, but because of the fact that I usually work out a lit more when I am travellling by myself. Coming over to the UK, I thought that I had weighed in at 270 lbs (122 kg). Speaking of the trip over…that begins a whole other adventure….

So I arrive in Heathrow Airport. For once, the flight departs and arrives on time, or on time enough for Europe. So I am thinking that with things going so well, nothing that possibly go wrong. To understand something essential, you have to know that Heathrow Airport is in London, and I was supposed to drive town to Portsmouth. So after landing (and picking up soe more CK Crave — the new fragrance by Calvin Klein…more on this later), I get into my rental car and go go go!

Following the directions (partially as it would turn out) that I was given, I began driving on the M25 highway, known as the M25 Orbital. So I was driving on this road for an an hour, and all of the sudden, I begin to see signs showing directions to the Chunnel (the tunnel that England and France share). At the toll (this is another bad sign since tolls aren’t supposed to be introduced into the UK until February 2002), I ask the toll booth guy if I am in the direction of Portsmouth? Nope, he declared, and then proceeds to make me pull over to the side of the road so that he could give me directions to get back onto the right side of the M25 orbital (I was going North when I should have been going South). With a lot of thanks for setting me in the right direction, I set back out on my journey, knowing that I had just added 40 miles to my journey. So I am going on the M25 Orbital South, and after about 90 minutes, things begin to look awfully familiar. “Oh wow” I say to myself “they have the same gas stations and road set up on this side of the M25 orbital as well. Interesting. I finally arrive at another toll booth. This seem interesting, so when I pull up to the toll booth window, the guy looks very familiar. He gives me a look and I ask him “oh my goodness, are you a twin? There’s another toll booth worker who looks just like you.” “I AM THE SAME GUY” he responds back. Jesus Christos! This is more than I can bare, so he pulls me over to the side of the road again. The first thing he says is “DO YOU UNDERSTAND-O THAT ‘ORBITAL’ MEAN IT IS A CIRCLE-O?” “Oh, that’s makes sense, because everything looked the same after awhile” I responded. He was less than amused. So he told me to wait while he want to get me the map from his car (what a nice offer, eh?) so that I would have a map. Little did he know that I already had one. And when he came back his map, I showed him my map. At which point he responded “OH BLOODY HELL. YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN. FOLLOW THE BLOODY MAP!” And then he left. And low and behold, the map had the exact directions that I needed. Who knew? To make a longer story short, what should have been a 90 minute trip turned out to be a 4 hour and 30 minute trip. Sigh…why I am sooooo directionally challenged?

To continue on with my week, it was a great learning experience, but not really eventful. I realised during the week that while the Brits and the Yanks might both speak English, I will be damned if I understand them half the time. Most of the questions that they’d ask I would respond to with a “oh wow…I’ll have to get back to you on that.” Even I understand the Swedish better than the English (even if the sentances are not always complete).

And true to my word, I was able to work out regularly at the hotel. And when I stepped on the scale, I found that I didn’t weigh 270 lbs (122 kgs) as I had feared. However, not all was well in hefty-ville, I still clocked in at a robust 240 lbs (109 kgs), which means that I put on 10 lbs (4.5 kgs). Sigh…I am going to ship myself off to a Swiss fat farm. Speaking of which, I had an emotional moment. I was at a display in a musem. During which there was a Dutch couple behind me pointing at the picture we were all staring at. However, I wasn’t really paying attention to them, except when they said something like “yadda yadda Prince of Wales” and pointed in my direction. I thought that they were calling me the Price of Whales and I got offended (I had realised that the exhibit had a small picture of the crown). There I was, imaging myself like Willy the Whale, jumping out of the water, doing tricks for fish. Sigh…but then I realised and I felt better.

Friday saw me make the trip back from Portsmouth to Heathrow airport, where I was dropping off the car because I was going to stay in London for the weekend (and London doesn’t require a car really). Driving back to the airport area was piece of cake. However, I couldn’t find the airport to save my life. Which gives me the opportunity to share what has become the bane of my existence…the British roundabout. It is terrible and tries to destroy my life. These roundabouts have a simple concept…it’s a circle and different exits in the circle point you in different directions, and people in the roundabout always have the right of way. However, the signage leading to the roundabout was not always as clear and robust as one would have liked it to be. As a result, got lost very easily, but always managed to find my way eventually. I am definately not a fan of the roundabout. So to make the a long story short, because I kept on getting off on the wrong exits in the roundabouts, what should have been a 90 minute trip to the airport took about 2 hours and 30 minutes. I really need a compass and to create a book called “Directions for Dummies”

Over the course of the weekend, I was as lazy as possible, which means that I went shopping. I bought hats, gloves, and shoes because you know darling, you can never have enough of any of these items. I also went to a few nightclubs and pubs. They were interesting, but certainly nothing spectacular.

Anyway, that’s all for now.

Ciao, Rodney

16 October 2002, Entry 2

So today I went to get a haircut. Oh fun, my first haircut in Sweden. Those who know me that I usually commit to one barber and stay with them until either I leave that city, or one of us dies…whichever comes first. Well, since it is just a tad bit too far away to make a jaunt across the states in order to get a haircut, I have decided that I would try to find a place here to get a haircut because I think that it would be the best thing to do. Besides, it was getting to the point where I was looking like a young Micheal Jackson. Perhaps a better example, for those of you who have seen Austin Powers: Goldmember, was the scene where Beyonce Knowles (of Destiny’s Child) hair is short and wet, and then with a couple of shakes, she has a huge afro! That was me. I am not suggesting that I am now Beyonce Knowles, but like Micheal Jackson and Diana Ross, you haven’t really seen us together in public have you? I’ll let you form your own conclusions.

Anyway, when I get to the styling salon (it was recommended), it turns out that the one person who cuts black hair only does so twice a week. So the stylist is very nervous to cut my hair, but he tries to show as much confidence as he can. I warned him that if my haircut came out wrong, that I would probably “over-react”. This made him even more nervous. He called a phone number and started speaking frantically into the phone. He put on his hands-free set and continued talking while cutting my hair. I could just imagine that he called some kind of “Black Hair Support Line”. I can just imagine the person on the other end of the line “remain calm…it’s just like we taught you in styling class…don’t get scared…you can do this”. I knew that this was going to be an interesting haircut because instead of using an electric razor, he used scissors and his imagine.

Well, to make a long story short. The good news is that I no longer look like Micheal Jackson during his afro years. I now look like a member of the rap group Kid and Play. The haircut I have now I only see on classic episodes of Yo MTV Raps! But hey, it’s a step up. Sigh…time to get back to the UK or Paris and have them work on my mop.

In the next issue…the IT audit gang’s in town and comes to visit my new apartment…stay tuned…

Ciao, Rodney

16 October 2002

So, I just moved into my new apartment yesterday. It is very nice and I like it a lot. I am planning on making a few changes to it, but for the moment, I’ve got no complaints. On one hand, it felt good to get the keys to the place because it cemented the fact that I now formally have a place to live. On the other hand, I started to cry because it meant that I was now no longer on expenses. And life feels different when IBM is not picking up the tab. Except that in many other ways, they are picking up the tab for me, so I can’t complain *too* loudly.

What the moves signifies the most is that I don’t have to spend another night in a lonely place called “Shantytown” otherwise known as Akalla Hotel Apartments. And this makes me happy. Man, I feel like breakdancing. Shantytown was the pitts. Now I live right outside the city, but close enough to get to where I need to go (and it’s a 30 second walk to the subway from my apartment). I’m moving on up. Just need to get me a tweed suit and wife named Weezie and I’ll be George Jefferson. I had the afro thing going already….

11 October 2002

Well, we have just concluded two weeks with Steven Needham making a visit to Stockholm. It was cool to see and hang out with Steve. During Steve’s time here, I was staying mostly at the Hilton Hotel. Steve was staying at the Sheraton Hotel. They were seperated by a river. During Steve’s time here, he and I made many observations about the Swedish. So we decided — in true “Lord of the Rings” fashion, that Steve and I each represented a tower…

…an unholy union came upon the Swedish, to wreak havoc in the land of the Nordics. Their decisions would impact the people of Nordic Earth. To the west you had fashionably cheeky Steve, in the tower of Sheraton. To the dark east you had suave Rodney, dark lord of the Hilton…

Anyway, I found an apartment today. It is HUGE! I loved it when I first walked around. It had 2 bedrooms (one of which will be turned into a guest room/office), a living room, and a kitchen large enough to place a table in (where the help can eat — anyone wanna come over and keep this place tidy for me?). Barring any surprises, I think that I will be moving in on Tuesday. It is fully furnished, but I do need to purchase a television as well as a stereo system. And some other house items. I like the furniture and stuff inside, so I am very OK with the apartment. I am so happy about the apartment. It’s beautiful. Now I just need to make internet reservations to accomodate all of you whom said that you promised to vist!

8 October 2002

Well, it has been quite some time since I have mad an entry in the journal. I am surprised that people are actually reading it in fact, as I have gotten a couple of notes letting me know that a journal entry was lacking.

Well, in the past week, Stockholm has been graced with a visit from Steven Needham. He’s someone I used to work with in audit, and now he works all throughout Europe, Middle East, and Africa (EMEA), continuing the jet-setting lifestyle. It’s been pretty good to have Steve here because it’s nice to speak with someone whose first language is English. Interestingly, Steve and I understand each other less than we understand the Swedish. But it’s been fun all of the same.

Journal, let me tell you, life has been all about being hectic and busy. I moved to an apartment-hotel (only for this month) which is located in Akalla. This is outside of Sweden. My residence is far away from everything essential (bars and clubs) and I hate it. I have several names for it including “shanty-town”, “cellblock ibm”, and “crackville”. If I leave the office after dark, I am all about a taxi. And during the weekend, I am all about living in Stockholm at a hotel. Because folks, being surrounded by shanty-people on the weekend — when you are not in a bar — is just not fun.

Well, it’s been busy the past week, but maybe I have a moment to share an experience with you…

Every Saturday that I am in Stockholm I have a routine. I go shopping and buy things in the town center and I end my exhausting experience at Ikki (pronounced E-chi), which is a sushi bar. Every time I go, I am served by Simon the waiter. I order japanese tea, a bowl of miso soup, chicken yakatori, and extra rice. It comes out to 168 Swedish monetary units. Simon gets 200 of these thingomonombers and can keep the change. It is my routine. Like Simon (played by Jack Nicholson in “As Good As It Gets). Well, this past saturday I was seated by someone else and waited on by someone else. The service was horrible. The waitress was horrible. The food tasteless. My waitress kept on ignoring me as she was clippety-clopping around the restaurant in her too-tight outfit, as the winne the pooh ankle bracelet she was wearing was struggling to stay connected around the hoofs that were her ankles. I was angry. Finally, I saw Simon, and I moved tables. Horse Girl got mad at me and she wanted Simon’s tip. So I made a big scene. There was more drama than an episode of West Wing. But everyone knows now that I like routines. Or maybe I am just crazy. Clippety-clop?

Ciao, Rodney