139. Rooftop Mojitos

22nd May 2014, 101 at Anglais, Stockholm, Sweden

Following a lovely dinner, Persian Party Princess, Sponge Bob and I proceeded to have drinks at the roof terrace of hotel Anglais.

Although this hotel bar is one of my favourite after-work-drinks-when-not-working spots, I have only been there in winter when the terrace was closed. Knowing that it's normally packed as soon as Sweden starts warming up the slightest, we were lucky to get in there and even luckier to get a seat.

Whilst Persian Party Princess and her bump settled for Virgin Mojitos, I decided to help Sponge Bob live up to her nick name with mojito after mojito after mojito.

The funny thing with summer nights in Sweden is that its' inhabitants will quite literally go through a full on personality transplant as soon as the sun comes out for more than a few hours each day around lunch time. Swedes have a well earned reputation of being rather cold and reserved, but this all goes out the window come May or June. Suddenly, people will actually speak to other people on a voluntary basis, smile at other people and even be willing to leave their homes to go for a drink on a school night.

And Anglais really did have that feeling of cows just being released to the pastures over the summer with everyone being excited and merry - even the bartenders, which is highly unusual in Stockholm.

It's these summer nights that are making me fall in love with Stockholm all over again.

138. Escalator To The Secret Garden

22nd May 2014, Grand Escalier, Stockholm, Sweden

The first time I spent time with both Sponge Bob and Persian Party girl as a pair, was 4 years ago at one of the most absurd but hilarious weekends to take ever place in the Adelaide Wharf Years*.

Sponge Bob and I go way back and met as nannies of Luxembourg in 2005, spending our days running after kids and our nights having copious amounts of wine and getting into all sorts of trouble at the dodgy night clubs of Grund in Luxembourg Ville. Persian Party Girl however was a new addition as of that mental weekend partying across London.

This time around was my first visit to Stockholm in absolute ages without an Excel spreadsheet dividing my social ventures into slots of 45 minutes each and I therefore actually got the chance to sit down for a proper meal with these two, plus our latest addition to the group - Persian Party Girl's bump!

Heading into one of the malls in Central Stockholm, I was a bit sad to see that we would be spending such a gorgeous evening indoors, but figured an evening with these to ladies was totally worth sitting inside. Imagine my happiness and surprise when the escalator in the middle of the shopping centre leads to a beautiful garden filled with beautiful people, and most beautiful of all the two and a half ladies that were my dates for the evening.

The restaurant was beautiful and the perfect setting for an evening of laughing my way to a six pack. You got to love the people in your life that you may not see often, but still can spend an entire evening with feeling like no time has passed at all.  

Between glasses of rose wine (cranberry juice for the bumpy lady) and divine servings of moules frites, steak and lamb sausages, we also were told some honest truths about pregnancy. Finally another friend who is actually not lying about it! That is two out of what feels like a hundred and it is liberating to not be told a load of fluff because someone is trying to trick other women into the club of motherhood. I'm sure it's great and yes, some babies are rather cute - but please stop pretending that pregnancy and child birth is all fairy dust and rainbows. I have seen my sister's birthing video - I know the truth. So for crying out loud, please stop lying to me! In the name of solidarity to other women if not else! Thank God for Persian Party Girl.

We'll save you some wine for 2015!

Two And a Half Women

Gorgeous Garden

 

*My former riverside home that stood as East London Party Central for several years until I inevitable became a grown up. Of sorts.

137. Cultural High

22nd May 2014, Kulturhuset, Stockholm, Sweden

Seeing as I've filled my culture quota for the month on ceramic sculptures I had the perfect excuse to visit the House of Culture in Stockholm for the first time, without actually having to deal with any culture.

On this beautiful pre summer day of glorious sunshine I was stealing my former German Class Companion away from her job to enjoy an al fresco lunch in central Stockholm. With 10 years having passed since graduating from school and us, quite frankly, being terrible at speaking German - I always enjoy this annual status update of ours.

Stockholm caught on to the roof top terrace thing late, but when they did catch up - they did it good. There's a roof top in every corner it seems and when the rooftop overlooks the most beautiful city in the world, nothing can really go wrong once up there. Unless you fall off it obviously. I have a feeling I could care less about the view if I was crashing towards my death, even if the architecture is beautiful.

When I first told GCC that I had very sharp elbows and that I would always manage to get us a seat, no matter how crowded a place was this was met with a lot of scepticism. And although she may think the couple at our table left because they were finished with their meal, I know it was my presence that made them pack up and leave. That is how great I am at snagging a spot just about anywhere - the bigger the crowd, the greater the challenge and I love a good challenge.

 

So, whilst GCC was having water, I as the lady of leisure that I am enjoyed a huge glass of wine with my salmon whilst recapping the last year of our lives as far as work, men, travels and family updates went. In Swedish, not German I might add. Seeing as my recollection of German class consists of some grammatical rules and a few rude rhymes, it would be a very short and rather boring, but not necessarily inaccurate recap.

 

Already looking forward to the summer recap of 2015!

 



Gorgeous Swedish salmon with gorgeous Swedish dill crème and gorgeous Swedish Veggies.

Guten Tag. Wasser ist als Fonds als Wein. Versprich. Wer braucht Deutschunterricht, wenn es Google Translate?

136. Back To School

19th May 2014, Strängnäs, Sweden

I never was the biggest fan of school.

Fact is, I still am not. Entering any sort of school building automatically will make me want to loudly protest everything from butter vs. margarine in the school cafeteria to the very existence of the teacher who informed the class that the girls needed not pay attentions as they didn't have any use knowing chemistry in their future roles as housewives.
 
Unfortunately for me I have beautiful little nieces that are not babies anymore - even if I try to tell myself that they still are - they are big school girls now. School girls who really, really wants their auntie to come visit them in school.

So back to school it was, starting with my eldest niece and wood shop. I tried highlighting beforehand that it may not be the safest subject to have me attend, but my objections were shot down at a very early stage. Problem is, when I last had wood shop on my school schedule, I successfully caused an electric black out to the entire school. My classmates may have thanked me but the teachers and the janitor did not.

My niece decided to be safe rather than sorry and gave me the lovely task of washing the paint brushes so that she could proceed to paint her wooden tulips. I didn't even get to help paint the damn things. Should clearly not have shared my black out story before class.

At the end of the class I was trusted with real responsibility. I got to measure the tulip stems out with a ruler and a pen. Although when it came to actually sawing the pieces apparently a 10 year old was a safer bet than me.

That was school day 1 over and done with.

On school day 2, it was off to the youngest niece's school and story hour. And I'm sorry, I don't know why these kids weren't focusing? Story hour was awesome. The guy, in the book, basically was this nutty teacher character with a honking horn for a nose who knew exactly how many ants live in an ant hill. And in spite of this guys' amazingness, it was like the kids just didn't care about what would happen next. I blame television.

Overall, this whole school think isn't quite as bad as I recall. I even got some fruit to snack on during story hour and one of the kids told me I don't look old enough to be someone's aunt. So many wins in two days.

Turns out that 10 years following my graduation, I may just have matured into the idea of going to school.

Busy girl in wood shop!

Post story hour cake in the sun!

135. The Cheese Factor

 17th May 2014, Ostaffären, Strängnäs, Sweden

-Auntie, it smells like poo in here.

Bringing my 10 year old niece to a store filled with cheese may not have been the wisest choice I've ever made.

This little home town of mine may not have much to brag with as far as shopping goes, but if you walk yourself over to the older parts of town, at the bottom of the hill where the cathedral overlooks all the nearby villages - the Cheese Shop is the one not to miss. This survivor of the fallen speciality stores is a treat and something way beyond the Tesco like stores on offer as an alternative. 

At least this is what I'm told by random cabbies, waiters, guys behind me in loo queues and train conductors I have run into across Sweden. Apparently people will actually go a long way to visit this cheese haven. So imagine the embarrassment when I have to tell these people that I have never once shopped there once in the 19 years I spent in town.

In my defence, I am not from a foodie background. It was on offer Gouda or Edam that sat in our fridge - even Cheddar was met with suspicion. On the rare occasions my father was allowed to treat himself to some Danish Havarti cheese it had to live on the terrace because no one else in the family could handle the smell. So no, it is safe to say that growing up, I did not shop at the Cheese Shop.

Luckily, I'm a cheese convert. And I like them properly stinky, the smellier the better if you ask me. 

Seeing as my Kindergarten Bestie and her boyfriend had just moved into their flat - or castle as it would be classified in London - and I had a house warming dinner to attend, what better way to say 'sweet digs' than with a basket of cheese?

After having a lovely brunch date with the eldest niece, we nipped into this adorable little shop on the cobbled streets right by the one and only park in town.

Whilst the niece was less than impressed, I loved this place instantly. Cheese and more cheese everywhere you looked and where the cheese came to an end there were things to put on the cheese and drink with the cheese on shelves from floor to ceiling. It also looks like I'd imagine it did in 1934 back when it was first founded and it has the loveliest staff I've come across in a very long time - which in Sweden is a rare thing. Plus the nice man behind the counter let me try loads of cheese. That obviously helped winning me over!

So for those of you, who will randomly end up in my hometown of Strängnäs one of these days - go visit the Cheese Shop. You won't regret it unless you're struggling with lactose.
 

Cheese Porn.

Anything you could ever wish for with your cheese of choice.

134. A World Beyond Mugs

15th May 2014, Keramikens Hus, Strängnäs, Sweden

Once, just once, it would be nice to be able to nod knowingly when people refer to the all the cultural sights of my tiny hometown. 

I instead have to admit than in the 19 years spent in my home town I haven't set foot in any of the quirky museums, been to view any of the rune inscriptions in the surroundings and quite frankly I have no idea which princess it is that is buried in the city's cathedral. This in spite of being dragged to said cathedral at least twice yearly and being told the sad story of this young princess who died too early. I think her name might have been Isolabella? Or actually, that might be the pizza place on Main Street?

Oh well, my youth was spent on far more important things. Like hanging out in the town's only mall, having crushes on the boys in the year above who had the coolest mopeds ever and trying to get drunk on homemade dandelion wine. And yes, that tastes as bad as it sounds.

Now however, I have actually learned to appreciate that in this small town of small towns, there is something to do apart from tipping cows and drinking moonshine. So after a lovely lunch with my oldest pal from Kindergarten, we decided to pop into the Ceramics museum that is the pride and joy of the only park in town.

At the end of the day, I guess knowing the difference between the different types of ceramics may be useful in the future. You know, if I should ever take up pottery in the future. Eventually I will have to find a hobby that sticks for longer than two weeks and this could be it, in theory...?

We wandered around this tiny museum for longer than I would normally put up with on my cultural outings and I actually think that this Lady of Leisure thing have made me receptive to the arts! I actually enjoyed walking around quietly, properly looking at the items on display and read up on what inspired the artist to create a porcelain cucumber.

Culture quota for May - complete!

A bowl. A... Coral? And a.... Very round carrot? Let's pray to god I won't ever get quizzed when leavign a museum.

Big white spaces and big blue bowls!

Ceramic fruit salad.

133. 98 at 30

10th May 2014, 98 Bar And Lounge, Shoreditch, London

And one by one, I am losing my friends to the cruel state of Thirty-Something.

This time around it is my fabulous Nail Guru's turn to stare that scary number right in the face and leap into it head first, praying for a minimum amount of wrinklage in this next decade to come.

Considering the upcoming celebratory holidays in Dubai and Las Vegas I suspect the Nail Guru thought she'd be able to dodge any celebrations on her home turf. Unlucky, or maybe lucky, for her the fiancé was not having any of that and threw on a surprise party in Shoreditch with all her friends and family. And me!

I was very excited to see that the party venue of his choice was on The List which earned me some much needed rest from ticking boxes this Saturday. All I really had to do was sit back, drink Bellinis and watch the box tick itself.

Whilst awaiting the arrival of the birthday girl I scoped the place out. Now, imagine that you have a crazy, unconventional aunt that firmly insists that the last days of decadence are yet to pass and has decorated her home accordingly. Then imagine hanging in her living room, sipping colourful cocktails under the chandelier and having a nap at the purple velvet sofa when the absinth has gone to your head. That is basically the interior design motivation for 98 Bar & Lounge. Only that my imaginary, yet extraordinary aunt would have employed cuter waiters with less of a negative attitude.

Knowing how much Nail Guru hates surprises, I should really be a better friend and not take pleasure in watching her shocked face as she enters the bar only to find 40 people hiding in the back room. I'm going to say her facial expression was a good 70 % genuine happiness and only 30 % awkwardness over the surprise though - so maybe deep down she actually is taking a liking to surprises.

A good night followed, although I was too slow to get my hands on some cake. I compensated this with additional Bellinis and my aim to leave at 10.30 pm in order to get up early the next morning failed somewhat. Instead I hung out until the bar closed and my 9 am gym session was never to be. I did walk home in heels though, that has got to count for something?

Finally, a very happy big fat 3-0 to birthday girl of the week!

Me and birthday girl!

See this pose? This is what us still-20-somethings like to call denial.