Pontiac knows how to party. The World Cup was the excuse they needed. There are people everywhere in downtown Pontiac. Beer stands everywhere. Especially the Bud girl. Long, brown hair, and wearing a very tight Budweiser dress. A beautiful sight. As close to art as Budweiser could ever come. And the tequila troops. Bottles in their holsters, shot glasses in their cartridge belts. A girl recognizes the colors of my Swedish jersey. ”Are you one of the players?”. A ”yes” would have resulted in a groupie experience. Next time… [View Full Entry]

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Sunset Strip is at our feet. Problem is, we don't know where to go. No references, no recommendations, nada. So, when the scalper offers us tickets to a concert at the House of Blues, we accept the offer. House of Blues doesn't exactly look like the place you would expect to meet world class performers. It looks very worn down, filthy, ugly. That's probably the whole idea. And it happened to be the club closest to where we parked the car. Tonight's band is The Smithereens. I haven't heard of them. I don't think my friend has either. But they turn [View Full Entry]

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The heat is relentless. The people who built the Rose Bowl should maybe have considered building it not in the Valley, but in a cooler location. Oh, well, too late now, and the crowd shows up anyway. Almost 90,000 of them. There are yellow and blue jerseys everywhere. I’m thinking that never before (or after for that matter) have there been this many Swedes in the Los Angeles area. Several thousand. The young American guy is wearing a Cameroon jersey. ”Why?” I ask him, noticing by his pale complexion that he couldn’t possibly originate from Africa. ”They played attractive soccer in [View Full Entry]

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”How are you doing?” The question from the little greeting girl in the sports store surprises me quite a lot. It’s my first visit to an American mall, and pretty much my first visit to a store overseas. Why does she want to know how I am doing? Do I know her? No, I don’t know her. Does she want to get to know me? ”Ehh….I’m ok” is my reply. Lame. But it could have been worse, hadn’t I realized pretty fast that this is how they do it over there and started a conversation with the little poor girl. It’s [View Full Entry]

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The killer whale, aka orca, must be one of the most beautiful animals on this planet. Probably even more impressive in the wild. But still a magnificent sight at Sea World. There is no doubt that they rule the water, with their size and intelligence. Shamu puts on a great show. She does it several times a day, nearly every day of the year, year in, year out. Still she seems to enjoy it. Quite a performer. The highlight is when she dives to the bottom of the tank, turns around, and heads for the surface. At the surface, the trainer [View Full Entry]

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Midsummer. Swedish tradition suggests a Midsummer pole, typical food with potatoes, herring, and strawberries, dance, and being together with friends and family. Our group of soccer enthusiasts are in a hotel in a rainy Michigan, so no dance and no pole. Not much family or friends, but we have each other, which is actually not bad at all. It’s gameday, so we have to make it an early and somewhat improvised Midsummer dinner in the hotel conference room. The traditional food is there. And as tradition bids, lots of booze for consumption. There is singing. People are taking turns to tell [View Full Entry]

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Doing the military service is in Sweden - as in many countries - when boys turn into men. When leaving the service it is tradition to go on a trip, to celebrate the fist time of freedom as men or something. Our rather large group of failures is no different. However, getting a large group to steer in the same direction turns out to be an impossible task. So, while others spread out wherever, we form a small group of brave soldiers to invade Copenhagen. This in times when there wasn't even talk of a bridge. Therefore, train and a boat [View Full Entry]

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The guy has a theory. ”There are no fiords”. Even though the cruise ship gracefully sails up the fiord leading to Oslo, the Swedish guy is convinced. He tries to convince some American tourists to accept his statement. It’s all just a conspiracy. Maybe by the Norwegian government, in order to attract tourists. Maybe it’s just an illusion. Many of the passengers are spending the morning observing the fantastic sight. So does the guy with the theory. Yet he claims that this is not a fiord. It is something else. It could be anything else, but not a fiord. Nobody is [View Full Entry]

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Grand Place is indeed grand. The main square of Brussels is surrounded by very old, very nice buildings. Only a block away he's standing. Le Maneken Pis. The little peeing guy. But he's so small. Only a foot or so tall. Yet his watering in the fountain never ends. What has he been drinking? And why is he so famous? He's so small... [View Full Entry]

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A competitive soccer game between two nations can be a friendly and exciting experience, but also a very tense and even hostile occurrence. This one lands about inbetween. The opening scene is a sign of an impressive experience; the cute French girl in the entrance line to Parc de Princes gives me the smile of a decade. Regardless of the outcome, I have my Paris face. The stadium is not among the largest of Europe, but it certainly must be one of the loudest. The acoustics are magnificent. A stadium "bowl" in its most literate sense, as opposed to its American [View Full Entry]

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