Postcards from Europe - 2: First Day in Jönköping


So it’s been over a week in Jönköping (yawn-chopping) and I am starting to feel at home now. Let me start at the beginning though.

Friday, 28th Aug,

0330 hrs

Our bus from Stockholm arrived at Jönköping at this unearthly hour. There were six of us, three from IIMK and three from IIMA. We had to wait till the accommodation office opened at 8:30 in the morning and we got the keys to our apartments. There was nothing we could do except wear our warmest jacket and lie on the benches under the open sky and wait for morning. Typically a scenario in which I would get philosophical, but I was just too cold and tired. Fortunately at 0530, the doors to the bus station opened and we trooped inside and tried to defrost our limbs. A few hours of sleeping on benches inside and being stared at by the locals, and it was time to go. We were quickly handed over our keys and even offered a ride to our apartment complex called Råslätt (ruse-lett).



My apartment complex in Råslätt


1200 hrs

First trip to the supermarket. We were told not to convert the prices in Swedish Kronor (pronounced as Crowne) into Rupees (1 Kronor = 7 Rs), but how could we not?

“Hey, look the half litre Pepsi is for 12 Kronors!”

The way to think of it is as if 1 Kronor = 1 Rs, and trying to forget the slight matter of the conversion factor. How else would you bring yourself to have the 60 Kronor sandwich or the 20 Kronor bus ticket? I’m getting there.


Evening

Met my flatmates. A Chinese doing his Bachelors and a Mexican doing his Masters in Economics. They showed me around the flat, the shelves in the kitchen I could use, generously offered me use of their utensils, how the laundry room in the basement works, and how I should clean and dry the kitchen and the bathroom after every use.

Disposing off trash looks like a ritual. You take your bag of trash downstairs to a little square hut with several holes on its sides, each hole for a different type of trash. So you open your bag and take out all the plastic and put in one hole, then move on and take out all the paper and put it in the second hole. You end up making a round trip of the hut and since others might also be making those revolutions, it all looks a bit funny.


2100 hrs

I’m feeling hungry, and the realization hits me that I will have to actually go in the kitchen and prepare something to eat and not wait for it to be served and do this for the next four months. Oh boy! :|

I chose noodles, since my other options were cornflakes and bread & cheese.

A typical meal


2330 hrs

Fall asleep, happy to be alive and in Sweden!


P.S: To be continued

Comments

  1. Hehee... liked ur trash disposal ritual description... keep going...

    ReplyDelete
  2. How are the classes .. And more importantly, how are the classmates :P

    ReplyDelete
  3. Yawn-chopping!! Haha! Nice! Okay, now I'm hardly jealous..my hostel sounds like a merrier place in comparison!

    And that multiplying by conversion factor thing..my brother did it the first eight months he was in New York..but then he got used to it, however, my mom nearly had a heart attack when he told her the parking rate there was $60 for four hours! :D

    oh and have fun and all! :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. @Farah: :)


    @Ajith: Let's just say that I don't sleep even if the class is boring. ;)


    @Tangled: I hope the next post reinstates the jealousy. :)

    And eight months? I've already stopped doing that. And Thanks and all. :)

    ReplyDelete
  5. Aila!! You had endure the chill for so long!!

    Lol at the trash disposition ritual. :D

    And what is that burnt kinda thing in that meal pic???

    ReplyDelete
  6. @bondgal: Hey!! I like my fish steak well done! (Ok, it got a little burnt, but gimme a break! It was my first time frying anything..)

    ReplyDelete
  7. Wonderful pictures! I've always wanted to visit Europe -- more so now! :)

    ReplyDelete
  8. @Normal Chaos: It's amazing here! :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Short Story: Puppy Love

Short Story: 'The Psychopath'

The Principle of Minimum Regret