I miss Europe. And I’m still here. But the other day was rough. I went to Sweden for the afternoon with a group of fellow Danish learners. I was mostly looking forward to being able to speak a language without having to think. And mumble.
I arrived to a street filled with European football fans dressed in the local colors surrounding at least 10 police vans. We were told that there was a derby match about to happen. And at one in the afternoon, the Swedes were apparently properly liquored up. Because suddenly, sirens erupted, riot police charged, gas canisters were detonated (whether they were tear gas or not, I don’t know), and a throng of football fans spread out into the streets in all directions at a drunken sprint. It was like nothing I had ever seen. I once saw the beginnings of a riot at the University of Oregon several years ago, I’ve seen several large-scale demonstrations, but I have never seen riot police in action. It was intense. Because I am a responsible young man, I walked away. It was not a good first impression for several of the people who had never been to Sweden before.
I arrived to a street filled with European football fans dressed in the local colors surrounding at least 10 police vans. We were told that there was a derby match about to happen. And at one in the afternoon, the Swedes were apparently properly liquored up. Because suddenly, sirens erupted, riot police charged, gas canisters were detonated (whether they were tear gas or not, I don’t know), and a throng of football fans spread out into the streets in all directions at a drunken sprint. It was like nothing I had ever seen. I once saw the beginnings of a riot at the University of Oregon several years ago, I’ve seen several large-scale demonstrations, but I have never seen riot police in action. It was intense. Because I am a responsible young man, I walked away. It was not a good first impression for several of the people who had never been to Sweden before.
Next, we headed to the old town. Because every proper European city has one. Obviously. On the way down a large set of stairs, a lighter came flying through the air and whipped against my hand. I looked up to see a pudgy, middle-aged man in a white shirt with a drunken, albeit sheepish, look on his face. My arms flew into the air in the international what the hell was that gesture. My words then flew into the air in the Swedish vad fan var det gesture. His response was one of the most disgusting things I have heard in Sweden in quite some time. Ursäkta, det var inte meningen. Jag missade negern bakom dig. As if that somehow makes it ok. Some Swedes will argue that the word neger means negro and is acceptable. To be perfectly honest, that’s bullshit. It’s a word that should not be used. Ever. I just looked at the guy, shook my head, and walked away. I didn’t know what to do. It just kind of hurt to hear.
At this point, my brow is furrowed and I’m not exactly happy to be at the head of a gaggle of foreigners trying to show off a country that I quite like and a city that holds a whole lot of amazing memories. So off we went to a medieval church. Because if there’s one thing that can cheer me up it’s a medieval church. Instead I saw three men, penises in hand, urinating on the walls surrounding the church grounds. Awesome.
After three strikes, the skies opened above us and rain started pissing down. You know, just for good measure. Needless to say, it wasn’t the most successful day trip to Sweden.
Welcome to Sweden. And drunkenness, hooliganism, racism, and public urination.
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