Getting lost is an artform that I have learned to perfect with great ease. I think I've been here for like 12 or 13 days, and I would postulate that I've been lost for about 10 of those. Now I just expect to get lost.

 

Wednesday, I decided to go on my own personal adventure (a.k.a. getting lost on purpose). With nothing more than a vague directional reference I set off to find "the lake". Anna had told me about it, but used this strange language that spoke of distance in kilometers. She mentioned something about taking a bike but I decided, hey, I'll run.

 

30 minutes later. . .

 

No lake, no water and landscapes of grass as far as the eye can see. That's right, lost again. But I have to say that this is a great country to be lost in. The people are always so eager to help the struggling American find her way.

 

This time it was a school teacher on a field trip who fulfilled her national duty.

 

"the lake? she said, with a shake of her head and a long sigh. "You plan to run there (she said with a look of doubt and uncertainty)?"

 

I could tell this wasn't going to be one of my most intellegent excurision.

 

"it's another 15 or 20 minutes that'a way."

 

Fabulous.

 

Ingorance can sometimes be a wonderful tool for fitness. I had come this far and I sure as hell wasn't going back now.

 

20 minutes later, I arrived at the lake. I'd attempt to spell it, but you wouldn't be able to pronounce it anyway.

 

Next time I'll ride my bike and take pictures. It was quite beautiful and worth the run. Unfortunately, the view was marred by the realization that I would have to somehow find my way back. oops.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday, Fanta and I went on a journey to see the viking graveyards. I took some pictures for your viewing pleasure back home. There was also a viking museum, a church and a cafe.

 

Oddly enough I don't really have a picture of the graves. They were these huge mounds of grass (basically little hills). Use your imagination.

 

This Friday, after an early morning training session with a few of my teammates, I ventured to Gustaf's school where I was to make an appearance at English class.

 

I don't know why, but I always like to pretend that I don't like kids and then I get around them and I can't get enough.

 

There was this one kid who spoke perfect English. He said he learned it from watching movies and listening to hip hop. He's like, no one believes me when I tell them, but that's how I learned. That's amazing. I told him I'd make him a hip hop cd. I think he has a little crush on me (wink wink), but that's just between you and me.

 

The rest of class was a lot of fun. The kids got to ask questions, along with the teacher, we read a book (actually, I read a book), we pointed at a map, talked about my family and soccer, etc etc. Your typical show-and-tell type of day.

 

And then I was asked to play soccer with the kids at gym class.

 

"Can you show the children some moves?"

 

I have been asked this question repeatedly since I've arrived. I have no idea what people expect me to do; turn into Ronaldinho and step over the ball fifty times?

 

So with no handy excuse readily available, I attempt my best Ronaldinho impersonation mixed with a little Henry. Impressed are you? Yeah, so were the kids.

 

And of course I've captured the moment on film. Here's a picture of all the little buggers. Not to sound sappy, but I really enjoyed it. The energy of the kids was infectious. And naturally I've been invited to come back. Who knows maybe I will . . .