Sweden

Sweden doesn't feel like Sweden. The atmosphere here is different to elsewhere and I feel as far away from Australia as I have anywhere - inexplicable considering the size and shape and colour of the people, and the style of living. I can't explain it but I certainly feel it.

Everyone speaks English, most with practiced textbook perfection, and some with English accents.

I am staying in a friend's father's apartment and have a commanding view over Stockholm and the large lake that was the reason for Stockholms establishment.

The beer here is worthless unless you find a Belgian bar. I haven't tried the vodka. Water abounds and gives the city its unique flavour of breadcrumbs and chocolate pieces.

I have many friends here and I struggle only to organise my time around the people. I have a bike and I ride. The people are not tall, they are normal. They are conservatively disciplined with liberal sprinklings of liberality. Many wear beards and sideburns and pierce themselves with rings in their face. The barrel chested hairy-faced Vikings that expand from small cars every now and then lose all their viciousness when they speak. The undulating tones of cartoon Swedish place them next to Obelix. Bouncers evict drunkards with lolloping nursery rhymes. A thump from them on the head will embed your feet in the street and leave a lump on your head. Stars and little birdies will spin around you for a little while, the lump will recede quickly and you will be fine by the next scene.

It's cold here in their warmth and their cold must be life threatening. I go out with collared shirt and board-shorts and I freeze. I drink milkshakes on islands in the archipelago and shiver and grin. I have overcome my cold though, although my sometime cough still shakes loose mucus. Dangerous here in Europe for contagious sickness, what with all their cleanliness. Safer in Africa where the flu doesn't dare show itself in front of the big man Malaria and his unconscionable peers.