KNOCK KNOCK.
Damn.
“We’re going to the park to have a BBQ, hurry up.”
It’s not like I never had a barbecue before, but truth is, I didn’t know the logistics of the nordic ones. Was I to bring the meat? The drinks? The coal? I decided to play it safe and take sandwiches. Juan was to be going while I got prepared, so Émilie & me went down to Netto to buy sliced bread and salami. And three bottles of water.
We took the bus and tram and funnily the rest of them were a bit behind schedule so we had to wait. Then a flood of people got off the tram. I’m not gonna list all of them just in case I forget about someone.
The BBQs in Sweden are just trays of tinfoil with pseudo-coal which you light with matches. They have a tinfoil grill where you put your meat to be heated. Then you eat it and throw all of it away in special containers to dispose of them. I looked down to my sandwich made with sandbread, which I was sure a crumb of it could dry all the Atlantic, and felt a bit envious. But it was worse when we discovered our water was sparkly. I want to kill the first fucking sociopath which not only thought it would be funny to put gas on water, but also convinced all of Germany and the nordic countries it was a pretty cool idea to drink it on a daily basis. I didn’t even blink when I tried my luck at the kiosk and the guy told me they didn’t sell still water and had to ask for a Pepsi.
We basically laid down on the grass and talked an took some photos. Some people played a bit of volleyball, some dared to swim, even though it was a bit cold. Later on it was even colder, so we went back home.
I spoke a bit with my parents on Skype to let them know I was perfectly ok and everything was nice like sugar and spice, and went to bed.
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