no accents on the keyboards

When I heard that the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were playing at Malmö, the third biggest city in Sweden, I jumped at the chance to go see em. It had been three years since I first watched the enigmatic Karen O jerk across the stage, arms and legs akimbo. That was at Livid 2003. Now she was here! And now I was here, too! So like most of the other international students living in Lund, I packed up my troubles in my old backpack and caught the Påtatåg to Malmö with my friend Dougal (rhymes with Google, FYI).

Since we got there a few hours early, we decided to hit up some op-shops. Turns out they're not so easy to find and that even the locals don't know where to find them. After many pointless conversations (all beginning with 'do you speak English?' because what exactly IS 'second hand shop' på svenska?) we asked this dreadlocked hippy couple. They took us to it.

A couple hours and a few off-the-wall purchases later, we decided to have dinner. We kicked back in the Stortoget with our Chinese take away and surreptitiously drinking vodka and mango juice. Then it was to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs tent. My Swedish teacher had warned me about pickpockets in Malmö. I didn't understand what she was saying, but the hand gestures were informative enough. So I cloaked my bag, keys, phone, money, ID, raincoat and cardigan. We went and watched the bands. We went and chatted up some random Swedish youths. We spent all my money on beer. All in all, a very wholesome evening.

Little did I know it was all to change. We returned back to the cloak room to find it shut and padlocked. Some kindly Swedes translated the sign taped to the window - it shut at 11.00 and would reopen at 5pm the next day. We were 15 minutes late. Although at the time it didn't really soak in, it certainly did begin to a few minutes later when the heavens opened up and down came a torrential shower.

Get it, soak in? tee hee hee.

Anyway, it was a 20 minute walk through slush and mud back to the station in the rain, a 30 minute train ride back to Lund jammed into a carriage with other steaming party animals, then a 15 min bike ride back to Dougal's. It was about then when I was cruising through the deserted streets of Lund that I realised I had no bed, no clothes, no money and no phone to take me through the next day.

I'll spare some of the gory details but suffice to say, top-to-tailing it in Dougal's bed was not my preferred way of spending a night, nor was turning up shamefaced at my friend Penny's room the next morning dressed entirely in his clothes. Or having to wear my pensioner glasses, or spending another arvo on the Påtatåg. But I was back again at the cloakroom in Malmö today at 5pm, again soaked through to my underwear, clutching my ticket and trying to summon up every last bit of optimism that might be able to change a horrid half day into what I could term 'life experience'.

We've just had a mini party in the kitchen here in Floor E, Sparta. A Belgium bloke's cousin got pregnant so he brought out the imported champagne. It was interesting to note that in Australia an event like this for people our age wouldn't be as vigorously celebrated!
Listening to ABBA.
Bashing the US.
Kicking around a football.
Drinking pear cider, which we reckon is the equivalent of UDLs.
Someone had some weed, which is extremely rare in Sweden but more common among the international students.
Confessions of love.
Stupid photos.
Slurring along to Queen.