Sverige!

I must admit that my much-touted packing style of 'last-minute' can no longer be classified as 'successful.'  I did manage to get out the door in time for a comfortable trip through security, but only after three baggage changes and a backpack reconnaissance mission to the folk's house the morning of the trip.  Ultimately, Mom came through with a duffel of Dad's that actually fit another bag INSIDE of it.  Bam!

The three bags I almost packed, before packing the purple bag in a different, bigger duffel

My lovely parents sending me off!  Look at how not nervous my mother is!

So my journey truly began with my mother dropping me off at the airport, us unloading two large bags and a bike box, and my saying that moving that stuff from the car to the check-in counter will be the hardest part of my trip.  I immediately recognized my mistake, but was entirely powerless against the forces of - what - the wood nymphs?  What is it that catches us in our weakest moments of overconfidence?  Whatever it is, it got me.  First, after flawlessly maneuvering my luggage into the airport and up the counter, I discovered that Sweden requires an exit strategy from their country.  The gentleman shared a phrase I will surely come to dread - 'Sir, could you step over here please?'  After some discussion, he allowed that I could likely enter the country, but would be well advised to have an exit flight or work on getting a visa.  I should add that around this time I put the bicycle box on the scale, followed by the GIANT duffel bag, to find that the duffel came in super-heavy-weight (which qualifies for a bonus payment of 200$).  I became, for a moment, that person with their personal life spread out over the floor of the airport, negotiating over three travel books, Chacos, and two giant bottle of vitamins (Calcium and Vitamin C) - the sum of which made the crucial 6lb difference.  I continued through security without incident. 

A few gate-side phone calls to my travel guru Joshua Paul Courteau and I was set up with a ticket to Morocco for the low low price of 580 dollars.  To be honest I have no idea where that falls on the scale of tickets from Stockholm to Casablanca - maybe that's bargain basement - when you are buying through a friend who is online on your behalf and you need a ticket to get into the country you are leaving for in an hour - you roll.

It was clear sailing through to Stockholm at that point - easing my way out of the US from the United terminal to the the international terminal at O'Hare, and finally being picked up by the lovely Corinne Wichser at ARN in Sweden (who wanted me to mention that she made me a bitchin sandwich - which is true, it was bitchin). Swedish Immigration, the stalwart defense against itinerant bums like myself, grilled me with the long line of questioning foretold by the United attendant (surprisingly similar our role-play Josh):

Swedish Officer: Have you been here before?
Me: No.
SO: What are your plans in Sweden?
Me: Visit a friend?
SO: How long do you plan to stay?
Me: 3 weeks.

And scene.  Unless they knew that I had bought a ticket 12 hours earlier - there was never any problem. 

I did not sleep on the flight over, which makes it 1PM Kevin brain time, 36 hours without sleep, to which I am attributing the wandering nature of this post.  The day has been a lovely wander around Stockholm with Corinne, checking out the old city between her apartment and KTH where she is at school.  The first steps!

Album cover, also representative of leaving Mpls

Corinne time!  <3 <3 <3 !!!

Corinne being Stockholm, featuring Stockholm

Time for sleep!  ttfn!

(PS, if anyone is savvy about these posts going automatically to Facebook, or other ways for the not so savvy to keep in touch, please let me know!)