Week 33

Sweden. The last flight back to our new-old country was stormy and fabulous (I thought but Gruvfrun didn’t share my opinion) and also beautiful until

a) Sadness hit me like a spear in the lungs: ”And so it was over, this adventure has ended.”

b) We waited for our luggage and waited and waited and waited aaaaand waited until we had to give up and realize that no, Gruvfrun’s bag is gone.

We’ve been traveling quite a lot via airplane (I’m sorry nature and wildlife) and this has never happened before. It’s just our luck that it should happen on our very last flight for a very long time, when all last important stuff is brought.

It’s almost – but only almost – funny. Especially since her naive girlfriend, aka me, told her that yeah sure, you can put your hard drive in your check-in luggage. Boy, do I regret it now.

Before all of this was known, when we landed at ARN, it struck me that it all seemed very familiar yet so very far away. I couldn’t grasp the pine trees, the Swedish advertisements on the radio, the good ’ol bread and cheese sold at every snack shelf. It was as if nothing had changed and as if I had never been gone. I’m sure it’s a good thing but I swear that it got to me in a very weird way.

Then the bag struggle began and that was all I could think about. Let’s hope it all works out for the best. I’m sure it will.

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Going Home | Things I’ll Miss

Happy Friday peeps!

Today is the last day of our expat journey. Tomorrow afternoon we’ll be on a plane back to Sweden and to the new flat we have there. (Although, first we’ll meet up GF’s parents for a day or two and then go back to my old family home whilst the flat gets ready. I’m not prepared to sleep on the floor just yet. Ahem.)

It’s unnerving and exceedingly exciting at the same time. This time tomorrow we’ll be handing in the keys to our 20kvm Brighton home and head for the airport.

Here’s what I’ll miss the most that I can think of right now:

August

The occasional pizza.

August

The queue outside our window to the library every single morning.

August

The weirdly quirky and cute side streets you’d all of a sudden end up on.

August

The outdoors cinema.

August

The pier: like a landmark, as entertainment, as “look what we have in this city – oh, yes”

August

The overly polite panini instructions.

August

The too hot summers and too cold winters. (But hey, that’s what you get from living in an attic, I suppose.)

August

Our new friends.

Hope you’ll have (or are having or have had) an awesome Friday! See you —> back in Sweden.

Pride Weekend

For any person who might’ve missed it: This weekend it was Brighton pride – and it was amazing.

Super busy (like, super, super, super busy – like I’m not even kidding so freaking busy, busy) but fun as ever. Glitter, confetti, and love everywhere.

We watched the parade, appreciated people dancing on top of bus stops, and admired an enormous gathering of people having a party outside the windows. We went to the street party and – more or less – climbed on people to get somewhere, then we danced ’til we simply couldn’t take it anymore, bought french fries and went home walking alongside the pitch black sea with only street lights to light our way.

It was astonishing and it was wonderful.

Here are some snippets from the day(s) in honor.

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As predicted, we’re busy with moving countries this week. We’re cleaning the flat, packing whatever we can without having to sleep on the floor, and writing lists. Many, many lists.

“Don’t forget to do” lists.
“Don’t forget to pack” lists.
“Don’t forget to buy” lists.
And, my personal fav, “don’t forget to call before it’s very much too late” lists.

It’s hard to remember all of the end dates and stuff that has to be done, you know… We can’t all be as quick as Google.

Anyway, hope you’re week is going swell.

Week 32

Storm

And so here it is: The last week in the UK. One year, six months, and two weeks we’ve lived here and now it’s suddenly gonna end.

The sea, the storms, the seagulls (although they’re apparently herring gulls…?), the poorly cleaned facades, the even worse in-house structures, the tiny home we’ve had, french fries by the seafront, gin bowls, the running route, the immense amount of “please” and “thank you”, the library, that little coffee place just next to us, the freedom of being exactly who you are, the sausage dogs on the promenade, our singing neighbour who’s voice penetrate every living being, our other neighbour who laughs at 4am, the live band in the bar opposite our road on every day of the week, our friends and a thousand more things – I’m gonna miss it all.

Two years ago we began planning for this adventure and three months later we booked a two-month stay in an Airbnb in Kemptown so that we would have plenty of time to get our own place. The first of February 2018 we moved to Brighton. In March, the same year, we moved into this little dwelling that has been our home thus far.

And now it’s gonna end.

It’s bittersweet. With Pride and all that comes with it, it does feel like we end on a high. Having a wonderful time with all of our friends we’ve met here, dancing the night away, blasting the hours to seconds. Boom.

I’m grateful for all the experiences that I’ve gotten on this journey. But I guess it’s always like this when things are going to end, you know, the feeling of not wanting it to end. To let the romanticised image of the adventure roam free like a dream, forever and ever.

It feels very strange, but it’s not over just yet. One week to go. I want to say: Let’s make the most of it! But I think I’ll be drowning in packing and cleaning the flat.

However, GF said it best: “Because it feels bad that means we’ve had a remarkably good time.” Indeed we’ve had.

Pride, Pride Absolutely Everywhere 🏳️‍🌈

Heyho hello hello!

It’s finally here, the pride weekend. WOOP! Exciting news peeps! I’m all over the place, if you couldn’t tell. I’ve got music on max volume, a glass of rosé, and my feet are dancing as I’m writing this.

I’m not exactly what you’d call a party animal (ehe) but I’m telling you: Pride is the best holiday of the year. We’re meeting up a bunch of friends that we met here tomorrow and I’m hoping for rainbows rainbows rainbows. Not that I’m likely to get disappointed, Brighton and Hove is THE city of the gay. Amazeballs.

Because the parade is tomorrow – and it’ll probably be chaotic – my girlfriend and I took a quick tour around the city, just the two of us, today. How else to kick off the pride weekend than to get a sh*tload of pride feeling? I mean, look at this, it’s simply fantastic:

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Finishing off with a personal fav, this constellation of our flag: Pride colours represented by swimwear. Brighton just knows how to do things.

Happy weekend and happy pride!! 🏳️‍🌈