In January 2011 Marita arrived in Uppsala, Sweden, for a semester of exchange. She enjoyed it. She enjoyed it a lot. She enjoyed it so much she's here for a year now. This is what she gets up to.
Solid run of fail
This past week and a bit has been, ahhhh, failtastic.
Last Saturday I went to a party, fell asleep on a couch. Someone went through my bag and nicked my ipod and 300kr. Irritating, but I’m the moron who passed out, so ehh.
Thursday night I was at some club, imbibed some stupid amount, managed to collect one bag from coat check whilst losing another at some point. In the line at Max I realised the bag I’d lost contained my ID, nations card (vital) and credit card (somewhat more vital). I walked home bawling my eyes out. Moron.
Friday morning I woke up feeling hideous, vom’d heaps of bile, remembered losing my stuff, went back to bed, woke up again, vom’d more bile, back to bed, then finally got up around lunch to try and be a real adult. At that point I discovered I’d chipped a tooth. Fabulous. I walked into town, checked at the nation where the club was held and at Max if I’d left my bag there (nope), walked up to the police station to report my bag and my ipod from the previous weekend. Turns out I have to call some number instead. Great. Realising some idiot might be out there using my card to buy shit online I rang Australia and cancelled my card. I thought I’d be able to get a new one issued soon, but apparently I have to wait until (their) Monday morning when the bank is actually open. Diiiick. And that phone call cost me 100kr. Deciding a swim would make me feel better I went to the city pool and chucked 1.5kms of freestyle. Feeling a bit better I walked out and found the heavens had opened. I had no money/access to money for a bus ticket so I trudged home feeling more and more sorry for myself. Finally home I realised I was probably drier when I was swimming laps. Logging in to facebook I found someone from Stockholms nation had sent me a message to say they had found my bag. Goddamn, why was I so hasty to cancel my card?
Saturday I woke up and decided self-pity had lost its pizazz. I scrounged a bit of cash, went into town, and was able to buy some bread (to add to my grievances, I’d run out of food). No one was at Stockholms so I wasn’t able to collect my bag or get a nations card for my friend Steve who was arriving Sunday night. Ah bugger it, time to party. Met up with some friends (Lloyd and Taco) at one of the student housing places for a party that wasn’t really going to start for several hours (it was 4pm) and started drinking goon. Given how little I’d eaten it probably wasn’t the wisest decision. Either way, from then on it’s a whole heap of *scene missing*. The next thing I know I’m wandering through a forest outside Flogsta (another student housing place) trying to get to one of the parties there. I must have fallen over as I was lying on my back and every time I tried to stand up my left foot was in agony. Hmmm…
Sunday morning. I wake up on the couch in my room (conveniently recently acquired) feeling weird and in a lot of pain. Try to stand. AARGH FUCK AARGHHH can’t put weight on my left foot. Back to sleep. Wake up a few hours later and face the reality that I need medical attention. But have no ability to walk or access to money. Shiiit. Ring Lloyd. Help a retard out? Taxi to three different places, finally get to the correct emergency room. Whilst waiting we try to piece the previous evening together. A phone call with Taco reveals that collectively our last solid memory of the evening is pretty much at the same point: drinking games with an American girl at around 8.30. Messaging others we work out that we all made it to the second party, but separately. None of us remember being there. Was our goon spiked?
A few hours and a couple of x-rays later it’s revealed I fractured one of my metatarsals (I thiiink. The guy wasn’t very forthcoming with the info about what I’d actually done). Aaaand now I’m in a cast for 2 weeks. Just when I’m supposed to be travelling with Steve. Grreaaaat.
So now I’m up waiting for 9am Monday in Aus so I can call my bank to try and get a new card asap. And I feel like I should be a lot shittier than I am. But the reality is I’m in Sweden. Goddamn Sweden. On exchange. And my best mate from Aus has just arrived. And we’re gonna go kick around Europe for a month. And we’re going to a sweet music festival a few days after I’m allowed to ditch the cast. And I get to stay here for another semester. And I just can’t be arsed being pissed off.
Although I might not be so level-headed after my first full day of trying to get around Uppsala with crutches tomorrow. We’ll see…
