My last week

Today it's only one week until I go back to Sweden; it is such a bittersweet feeling. So I would like to post a song of a Swedish singer; Lars Winnerbäck. Not many of you guys will understand the lyrics, but at least you will get to hear some real Swedish, not just The Swedish Chef/Muppet-style. It will do you good:

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It's about returning to a place that's dear to you, a place you feel is as big part of you; a place that is like your second home. That is what Dublin has become to me, and I just can't believe I am going to leave this place, my beloved Ireland. So what I've been doing with this blog in comparing Dublin to Stockholm, which is not an easy task. Or hey, it is easy to compare, but not to come up with a conclusion. I am pretty sure I won't.

So, now it is my last seven days here. At this time next week I will be on a plain back to Stockholm and probably swift from crying hysterically and smiling like a moron... I am going to make these 168 hours here the best hours ever, wish me luck!

Dublin seen out of a lens

I just realised I made a post with pictures from Stockholm a while ago (you can find it here) but have none with pictures of Dublin, so it is about time, since I am doing the whole comparing thing! Here we go:

This is my dream house, so damn gorgeous!

Georges street, they got a really cheap piercing shop in here. I wouldn't advice anyone in the entire world to get a piercing done there though. I've seen the lady who does it, she's like 80 years old and her hands are all shaky... Not very good qualities for someone who's supposed to puncture your body.

If there is one thing I love it is Dr Martens. In this awesome record shop called Tower Records they had a whole corner filled with all my favourite shoes. I fell in love with it.

This sweet treat is what you get for free when you buy some hot chocolate at Butlers; it's deadly. 

I think I have a fetish for houses, or architecture overall. I just love the steam punk feeling of every street here in Dublin. I wanna live in one of these!

Filip having some shots at Headline, the pub me and my friends alwaysalwaysalways went to the first three weeks we'd stayed here. Although the boss there yelled me out once for nothing at all, so hey I don't go there anymore. Grand.

Just love this street, it's so full of colour!

Steam-fucking-Punk, that's all I'm saying. It's savage.

Adnan just outside of college.

Sometimes it's okay to look like a total tourist. At least if your blond and pretty, like Alex.

Oh this is from the best shop ever. Its called John Gunn's Camera shop and it is the best place to get pictures developed or any kind of camera service, since it is very cheap and the staff there is soooo lovely. 

Outside of Forbidden Planet, the unreal sci fi shop that I just want to live in.

And the absolutely best thing about Dublin is this; all the live music that's going on.

When I  walked down Grafton Street the first time I was amazed by all the street musicians that were playing. Not one, not two, not three but at least five different ones - on the same street. You wouldn't see that In Stockholm, not that many. Or that good... One more point to Dublin.

This post is ANIMAL!

Irish people seem to think that Swedish language sounds like just randomly burped noise, pretty much as The Swedish Chef from The Muppet's. Some people have actually asked me if I can understand him:

Well... I would love to though, but unfortunately; I can't. What I would like to respond though is that the native tongue of Irish sounds like something totally made up and doesn't make any sense at all. But, of course, I would love to learn it. Although I am pretty swamped with all the Irish-English slang people use over here. I gotta be honest; one of the main reasons I wanted to come here, to Ireland, was because it is the sexiest accent on earth. No joke, it is so unbelievable cool. The slang though - not so much.

To seriously say: Last night was ANIMAL just sounds... strange. I love it though, the weirder the slang the better the slang, haha. Me and my Swedish friend Alexandra got a private tutor (Holly!) to teach us all these foreign words and put them in the right context. We want to believe we've become very ''Irishanized'' and can't stop using words as grand, deadly, unreal, savage, class etc etc. Now it just comes naturally to me, all these funny words I used to make so much fun of has become a part of my everyday language. Who would have thought?

When I go back to Sweden I am most certain to keep this weird vocabulary and therefor I will probably get bullied to death. But hey, as we say in Sweden: Vad gör det om hundra år? (= what does it matter in 100 years) Good point there. 

Pub Crawling

This Wednesday me and some friends went for a pub crawl - a to me very new event. In Sweden I'd never heard of such a thing. What I learnt is that a pub crawl is a group of people going from pub to pub, getting one or a few beers at each pub and don't stop until they've been to at least 7 different ones.

Hm, so okay. Well grand, maybe. To me, with my Swedish oh it's too cold to walk- attitude, I thought it would suck. Why would you like to go from place to place if the place you're already at has good music, cheap beer and cool people? But hey, I am always (alwaysalwaysalways) up for trying new things, and as usual I am glad I did, since we had a blast. We only made it to three different places though, but we had such a good time. The whole oh it's too cold to walk attitude disappears after a few beer, so even that was fine. 

Jack and Holly at our first stop; Bleeding Horse.

This old couple seemed rather pleased by our presence...

Alexandra and me in the ladies room of the second place we went to; Whelans.

Bastian was there with us as well.

David, Aaron and us two Swed's again, Stockhomie!

Johanna was the one to organise the whole night. Here she is standing with Hannes and Jack, all Swedish!

Our third and last stop was Bruxelles where we hanged out in the rock bar. Shooting pool and drinking to the screams of Phil Anselmo (singer of Pantera, if you didn't already know that) is such a great combination.

From there people all went their separate ways, so I guess it wasn't a ''real'' pub crawl since we didn't go to the magic number 7 (or 4, 5, 6) but still it was a great night. I might grow fond of the idea, although it is pretty silly thing, this pub crawling business.

The lack of self respect - and clothes

One thing I've noticed here in Dublin is the way people (girls) dress when they are going out - Or perhaps I should say NOT dress. Girls here seem to have forgotten that sometimes less is more, and just take everything possible off instead. I was so shocked the first time I went for a night out here, and realised none of the girls had any clothes on. I was wearing a t-shirts, shorts and my converse while everyone around me had the tiniest tiniest dresses on, all sparkly and ass-showing. To that they all wore heels as high as me and their hair were all messed up. On purpose though, as if they were trying to compensate their non-existing sparkly dresses with some morning hair, to look a bit more casual. Or they might just be going for the 'after sex hair', aka knullruffs in Sweden, to make the boys aware that they are 'sexable'.

Of course girls in Sweden dress up before heading out as well, although that is the keyword: dress up, not undress. Well sure, by the definition of dressing up the skirts get a bit shorter and the heels a bit higher, but at least you could actually walk in them. I can't even count how many girls I've seen here, bumbling around in their heels, shaky, unable to lift their feet in the right order. Then the short (non-existing) dresses don't help very much, since they curl up at the bottom, fall down at the top and show all their most sacred parts.

Actually a few days ago I saw a girl crew coming out of a taxi and entering a club, without any jackets. In 98939572 inch heels and just hot pants, with a top covering only their boobs. The worst part is that it was 0 degrees outside... It is very interesting, really. I can't really imagine what goes through these girls heads when they stand in front of the mirror before leaving the house, in only underwear. I would love to know though, I would really love to hear from one of these many many many Irish girls what the purpose if it is. To get laid? To get attention? To get a cold?

What is even more interesting is that the guys here seem so used to the girls lack of clothes that they don't even acknowledge it. For a bit of fun I watched a couple of these girls wobbling down the street a few night ago, and the reaction they got from men passing - which was zero. If a girl in Sweden would go dressed in only a bra-ish top and hot pants in the middle of December she would probably get raped or picked up by the police and everyone passing would stare until their eyes popped out.

It just screams of insecurity and a lack of self respect.