What a long, strange day.

Last month I made plans with my friend, Leslie, to spend the day with her in Stockholm and bought a ticket to leave home in the morning and fly back late in the evening. Last week, unfortunately, it turned out that Leslie wouldn’t be able to come to Sweden after all. Since my trip had already been paid for, I decided to come down anyway and go instead to Uppsala, where I’ll be studying in the fall. It seemed a good chance to explore a bit and find my footing without having to rush around or keep to a schedule.

Yesterday, after reading much on Facebook about storms and inclement weather in the southerly parts of Sweden, I checked the forecast and discovered that it looked like nothing but wind and rain all day long where I was going. I toyed briefly with the idea of giving the whole thing a miss, but Olof discouraged me from that, so I set my alarm for 7:00 am and set out this morning while the rest of the house still slept.

The weather was sunny and warm and beautiful at home, but as we neared Arlanda airport, the skies became ever greyer. I didn’t have to go outside until I stepped off the train in Uppsala, but it was easy to see through the windows that the reports of wind and rain had not been exaggerated. Once outside, I was utterly drenched within fifteen minutes. It wasn’t terribly comfortable, I admit, but the good thing is that once you’re wet, you’re wet, so there’s no point worrying about it after that. Being an out-of-towner with a terrible sense of direction and limited visibility, I had more than a few missteps before I got to where I wanted to be. I won’t bore you with the details, but it involved much futile wandering, many texts and phone calls to Olof, and finally a visit to the information desk where I shamelessly played helpless American and spoke English to the man behind the counter. He armed me with a map and a bus schedule and sent me off on what would have been the right path, were it not for the aforementioned terrible sense of direction.

In any case, I ultimately found the proper bus and climbed aboard. After a couple of stops I deduced, with the aid of my bus schedule, that though I was indeed on the correct bus, I had chosen the wrong time. I ended up in the right place, but it took me twenty-ish stops and forty-five minutes to get there, rather than three stops and ten minutes. I wasn’t much bothered, though, as it wasn’t raining inside the bus and time was very much on my side.

It was nearing two o’clock when I made it to the university, and I found the history department relatively quickly. All the doors were locked up tight, so I couldn’t go inside, but at least I know where to go when the time comes. While I was walking, the rain started coming down even more heavily and put the kibosh on any more exploring I might have had in mind. I checked my bus schedule and found that the proper bus at the proper time was set to arrive imminently, so I made haste to the bus stop and was soon back at the city center.

I spent the rest of the afternoon doing a little shopping and having first a late lunch, then coffee. Though the rain had mostly cleared up by late afternoon, the skies started looking threatening again around five o’clock, so I decided I might as well head back to the airport, and that’s where I am now, drinking a smoothie and mourning the disappearance of Pizza Hut from the premises (seriously, what the hell?). My flight home isn’t for another two hours, but there are plenty of coffee shops here and I’ve got a book in my bag, so I should be able to pass the time pleasantly enough.