It's been six months since I came to Uppsala, amazing how it goes by so quickly. I had one hell of a weekend. Friday was a friend's moving in party, plenty of alcohol and good food. The music selection was also pretty odd too, again all the stuff Americans make fun of Europeans for. When Swedes get drunk they just turn absolutely crazy, acting like little kids or, in one case, flamboyantly gay. After that we ended up at one of the nations, a meat market one. We observed how around a half hour before closing it gradually turns from a dance floor to a pre-orgy. Fun times. Also, Värmlands is my nation of choice for trying out mixed drinks, that's where I tried absinthe (no hallucinations at all, what a rip-off). I also tried a Margarita, which I didn't expect they'd get exactly right so I wasn't going to hold that against the student bartender, but they line the glass with SUGAR! For Christ's sake can't they get anything Mexican right? Well, if you want something done right, you got to do it yourself, I guess.
Saturday was dumpling night at Feifei's parent's house in Stockholm. Six of her friends were there as well so it wasn't a horrible one on one dinner with them prying me for details. Not that they would have done that anyway since I made such a good impression the last time I was over with my expert handling of garlic and chopsticks. I now know how to make Chinese dumplings, now I just need to know what's in them. Speaking of ingredients in Chinese food, evidently the stereotype of Chinese eating cats, chicken feet and other unusual things only applies to Southern China, not Manchuria. As Feifei's dad commented, "Yes, the Southern Chinese will eat *anything*."Which I thought was rather amusing.
Later that night I went back to Uppsala just in time for my corridor's first corridor party. It was good fun, especially seeing all my hallmates drunk. They're quite reserved; you have to be in the kitchen together for several minutes before an obligatory conversation awkwardly starts up. I showed up and was greeted with, "HEEEEJJJJ KEVEEEN!!" A refreshing change to be sure, though I'm glad they're not always like that. The hall smelled of smoke from my Persian hallmate's hookah, which I, being the good anthropologist I am, tried. Flavored smoke tastes like what you'd imagine: smoke. No insight gained as to why people like them so much.
Sunday was the ski trip to Romme in Dalarna (the land of the Swedish Chef, though I didn't hear a single Bork) it was my first time skiing, so I ended up falling and crashing a lot. I didn't even know one could fall face forward while wearing skis. My efforts were cut short when Feifei got hurt snowboarding (she's fine); I spent the rest of the day with her. Shame, it really spoiled my plans to fall in snow for six hours. It did give me more points with her parents, to be sure. And as the Chinese proverb goes, "Making your girlfriend's parent happy is worth more than a day skiing."