Back in Växjö

The train ride from Copenhagen was nice at first because up until Malmö an Arabic family with a cute kid was sitting next to me and some other girl played Arabic pop music that didn’t even bother me so it was still very much like home. Not home-home but you know, stuff I relate to.

In Malmö, after the Arabs left, an older couple boarded the train and after a while the man started to strum on his guitar. That too, didn’t annoy me because he was playing soft, jazzy, sometimes Balkan-y tunes and he knew what he was doing.

In Lund a hot, Alexander Skarsgård-esque guy and his ugly friend boarded the train. This is a pattern now. I could link to the post proving it but I’m too lazy. The old man continued playing guitar, What a Wonderful World, and I looked out the window and the sun was starting to set and I saw trees of green and cows of brown and white and yes, yes, it is a wonderful world, I thought to myself.

In Höör nothing happened but the town is called Höör and I still refuse to believe that this is a real name.

In Hässleholm we had to get out of the train to take a replacement bus to Älmhult, where we got back into a train because Sweden sucks at trains.