Välkomna Tillbaka (Welcome Back)

I arrived in Gothenburg just a few hours ago.  There was a delay because my flight from Milwaukee wasn't going to make my connecting flight to Frankfurt, so the airline put me on a bus to O'Hare Chicago for a much later flight.   The bus ride and delay lead to a frightening moment when I realized a few minutes after I stepped into the O'Hare terminal that I had forgotten to take my bassoon off the bus!  A frantic few minutes of phone calls to Coach USA together with prayer ensued, when suddenly a whisper of hope struck me: maybe the bus had circled around to the bottom level to pick up passengers? I can't tell you how relieved I was to discover this was so. I was able to retrieve my bassoon after all, and spent the next four hours relaxing from the rush, sinking into the feeling that maybe God really does want me to take this audition. After such a close call, it is hard not to get religious about it!  I eventually took advantage of the lost time to delays and decided to set up my stand and practice in the seating area.  My niece told me over the phone that I could make some money to buy a house this way. And I was tempted to ask if  anyone knew how to play piano, since there was a baby grand sitting beside the bar playing the Cheers theme song. I could have had an impromptu recital if there was a willing volunteer.  But I figured I'd had enough excitement for the day.  To my surprise, hardly anyone paid attention to my quiet noodling, except for one father that thought it was neat and wanted his little boy to listen. 

When I arrived in Frankfurt's airport, I got a good look at the behemoth Lufthansa double-decker A380-800's rolling in, after sitting down to a hot bowl of spicy miso veggie soup with a glass of orange juice and a shot of espresso...the little restaurant also serves lots of beer, but I passed on that.  Most of the other travelers, even at 11 am, were guzzling. Unlike my last experience at Frankfurt's airport's McDonald's, where a manager ridiculed me for asking what was in the veggie patty, the waiter here was as friendly and helpful as any server I've had. That was a delight. I bet he likes the beer.  They don't serve that at McDonalds. It was good I passed on the beer, though.  As it was, my stomach had enough trouble dealing with the espresso-OJ-spicy soup concoction. 

When my bus arrived in Gothenburg from the airport, row upon row of gay pride flags were flying to greet us all around the city.  I'm not sure what the reason for this is.  I don't remember seeing them the last time I was here a year ago.  I wonder if they'll have a Christian flag celebration.  We're an oppressed minority too, after all.

After a 20 minute tram ride I found Daniel and Hannah Norén's flat. I visited them last year, around this time. If you look back at my blog last year you can see the crab fishing we did at the beach.  This time, though, they are in the US, and I get the flat all to myself. The neighborhood is mostly muslim immigrants from North Africa and the Middle East.  The tram ride photo shows the glaring contrast in cultures: in the background is a poster of a topless woman advertising her invisible bra. Mothers covered in their hijabs, with their children, ride it out. The Noréns neighbors Simon and Frida welcomed me in for middag (dinner), together with their little "Nana," once I arrived at the flat. They are a delight. We ate Swedish meatballs, potatoes augratin, and salad.   Since then, I have unpacked my belongings, and watered the plants, and practiced a bit too.  

I've charged up my phone now, which is +46 762546058.  You call me or send a text to this number.  

Tomorrow is my birthday!