Kiruna Tourism

Hallå from Sweden! I'm sure you all have been worried sick about your dear ol' pal Lunn. Well fear not, dearest readers, I am alive and well. Extra well, in fact, because I have spent the last week or so in Sweden. Aside from my photo-op with the Swedish Swim Team (right), not a whole lot has happened, and that was perfectly fine with me.


I arrived in Kiruna (say it "kee roo NA!") after a lovely trip up to top of Sweden. The city was very cute, even with snow on the ground. It is a town of about 18,000 fine folks who speak Swedish and English (though whenever I would ask them, "TAHlar deux ENgleska?" they really seemed to think it was funny to answer some form of "yes" in Swedish, forcing me to once again ask if they talar deux engeska'd.)

Kiruna was built around this monstrosity of a thing: an iron-ore mine that you can see from everywhere in the city. It's the stereotypical "well, that there mine is our lives!" kind of scenario. People love it. The mine gives tours and brags about how much it has done to help the community, and the mine's first boss is basically seen as the founder of the city. And in the end, the mine won't just be creating one city, but two! How so, you ask?? Well, because of something called "subsidence" from the mine, the whole town is tipping over and needs to get re-located like a mile northwest. Kiruna v2.0 will even include a brand spanking new artificial lake, which I'm sure will also be named after the mine boss.

But whatever Kirunans may lack in environmental stewardess, they make up for in braggadocio. Their tourist office is full of pamphlets about the wonders of Kiruna. One pamphlet even asks the question "Could the LKAB [the mine] be considered one of the Wonders of the World?" Hey, it's not telling, it's just asking.
But it doesn't end there. The official Kiruna fact pamphlet Cold Facts About Kiruna states that, and I quote: "An idea was born that became far and away the most successful tourist concept of all time, the IceHotel."

Now, I don't have any official statistics, but I'm just wondering: is The IceHotel- a hotel constructed out of ice each November and melts in April, really "far and away" the most successful tourist trap? I mean, OF COURSE it is #1. That is no question. But "far and away"? Take a look at what rounds out the list, and see what you think:

MOST SUCCESSFUL TOURIST CONCEPTS OF ALL TIME:

1. The IceHotel, Sweden
2. The Hajj, Mecca
3. Those "Somebody who loves me went to ______ and all I got was this lousy T-shirt" stands
4. Shopping Malls, many locations, mostly in New Jersey
5. Prostitution, Mesopotamia
6. NASA, The Moon
7. Having Spices, Far East
8. Riverfest, Beloit, Wisconsin
9. White Flight, USA
10. Wall Drug, South Dakota


Any thoughts? Ok, this post is getting far too lengthy. I may try to continue it later. Have a wonderful evening, everyone!

- Lunn

THING I FORGOT TO BRING TO SWEDEN: A charged phone.

FUNNY THING SWEDES SAY WRONGLY: Basically everything.

Icarus Descends

Today I went into the borough of Wimbledon to find me some backpacking supplies (I am going to Sweden tomorrow). On the way back (from Wimbledon, not Sweden), I got myself lost a little. The sun came out for a little bit, and all was well. Little did I know the horrors in store for me...

As I passed a halfway house, I heard a rustling directly above me. I looked up and saw that a squirrel was playing on the branches of a very tall tree.

The longer I looked at the squirrel (whom I have christened Icarus), the more I noticed that her playing habits didn't look particularly playful. In fact, Icarus wasn't really playing; she was hanging on the branch for her dear life. Within seconds, I realized that Icarus wasn't going to be able to hold on much- oh wait, now she is falling.

The next four thoughts went like this:

1. Oh shit, that squirrel is going to fall on me.
2. If it falls on me, I am going to get bitten and have rabies.
3. If it doesn't fall on me, it is going to fall like 20 feet (6.096 metres) onto the sidewalk.
4. I am going to post this on my blog.

Now, all of these thoughts occurred within a fraction of a second, but nevertheless, by Thought #2, I was running away as fast as I could. And by this time, thought #3 took over and although I didn't actually turn back to save Icarus from her impending doom, I put my fingers in my ears mid-stride. Nevertheless, I will never be able to get the sound of Icarus' impact out of my head- it sounded like whacking a brick with a dull hammer.

I stopped my run (by now I was like 15 feet away) and thought for a little bit. My next thoughts were:

1. It didn't fall on me. That's good.
2. It hit the sidewalk. That's bad. I killed it.
3. Maybe I won't post this on my blog, as I am an evil organism.
4. I should look.
5. No, I should keep walking.
6. No, I will look.

And look I did. I was expecting to see something resembling Kosovo behind me, but all I saw was Icarus looking very stunned and very short. We both just stood there (well, Icarus kind of laid there, to be exact) and then Icarus limped away. Now, I am pretty positive that Icarus has since gone to meet her maker, but I am going to ward off this Catholic guilt by pretending she is alive and posting the experience on her blog as we speak.

- Lunn D.

Take A Break From The War On Terror For One Moment And Look At These Ducks

Hello everyone. This is a video of some ducks (Or perhaps geese. Hell, it might even be swans.) There is a cute family of birds who live in the pond in my backyard. Unfortunately, at press time, the ducks have since hit their awkward adolescence stage, and are no longer cute.

I'm aware that this entry isn't particularly eventful, but neither is my day.

This. is. your. BIRTHDAY BLOG!

Happy Birthday to my main squeeze, L! Thank you for being born, and thank you for being in Utah, completely freeing me from any obligation to buy or mail you a present. I like you!

- L

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!!!!

This Saturday was Frigby- the yearly football (like soccer but with less parental involvement) game between my college, the Froebel Zebras (pronounced "ZEBB rahs"), and the sister college, the Digby Lions (pronounced "LEE owns." Just kidding). And that is why is it called Frigby. Get it? Its a combination of the two. Froebel and Digby. Frigby.

This was my first ever real life game of football that I ever watched, but I still feel like I can tell that the players were crappy. I was also in somewhat of a sour mood because it is tradition
that all the fans bring waterguns and water balloons to soak each other before, during, and after the game. This would have been fine, except it is also tradition that it is always fucking rainy and cold in England.

To add to the expletives, the two schools have some very interesting chants and songs that they love to sing before, during, and after the game. I could join in, too, because someone near me gave me a cheat sheet. Here are some of my favorites- parental discretion is advised:

When I was just a boy
I asked my mother what would I be
Would I be Digby? Would I be Froebel?
Here's what she said to me:
Wash your mouth out son
And go get your father's gun
And shoot all the digby scum
Shoot the Digby scum!

----

They're Black, They're White, They're Fucking DYNAMITE
ZEBRAS! ZEBRAS!
It must be said, they're fucking good in bed
ZEBRAS! ZEBRAS!
And we all know, cuz we've all had a go
ZEBRAS! ZEBRAS!
They're yellow, they're blue, they smell of wee and poo
DIGBY! DIGBY!

----

(To the tune of The Battle Hymn of the Republic)
Digby Girls have got Cystitis
Digby Girls have got Cystitis
Digby Girls have got Cystitis
And crabs all in their pubes!

----

And that, as they say, is that. Never again can you complain about "Rock and Roll Part Two." Oh, and by the way, Froebel lost in double overtime 3-2. We just didn't chant "When I say DIGBY, you say CUNTS" quite loud enough.

- Lunn

THING I FORGOT TO BRING TO ENGLAND: A raincoat. But I wouldn't have worn one anyway.

FUNNY THING BRITS SAY WRONGLY: A pharmacist is a "chemist." I learned this after a cystitis scare.

"Blue" Whales- How Do We REALLY Know What Color They Are?

[For those of you who aren't actually in or around my immediate family, you probably won't find this post funny. However, you may find it informative.]

So there seems to be this highly important discussion going on amongst my family regarding the size of an average Blue Whale, the largest animal (by weight and volume) on Earth. And that is not even the largest animal currently on Earth- Ol' Bluey is the largest animal ever on Earth. For real.

You might be fooled by this past paragraph. First of all, you might think that my family is very smart for discussing things of this sort. You'd be sorely mistaken. Secondly, you might begin to think that the Blue Whale is larger than it actually is. We all remember the old diagram with a whale on top of a school bus or two or three and think, "Well, I suppose a Blue Whale is probably around...oh...say...a mile and a half long." On this, you'd only be half right. Little Ben has said that "This Blue Whale thing has gotten out of control" because people (namely me and my dad) tend to overestimate the length of these creatures.

Knowing that most of my millions of daily readers are probably highly educated, elitist liberals, I challenge y'all to a quiz. Just how big is the biggest animal ever to swim the Earth?

At scales this large, the metric system and [whatever we call the measuring system in the US] both fail to accurately portray a feasible number, so we will resort to measuring in elephants. So what do you think? Is a Blue Whale two elephants long? Three? Five? Nine? Fifteen? Thirty Seven? A hundred and fifty? CLICK BELOW TO FIND OUT!!!!




- Lunn

Stabbing Is The New Carrying A Puppy In Your Purse

LONDON, England (AP) -- A surge in violent knife crimes has prompted London police to introduce a new program that will rely on mobile, airport-style scanners and hand-held metal detectors for use against people suspected of carrying concealed weapons. A similar scheme was introduced in the northern city of Liverpool last year.

The new program, called Blunt 2, started this week in one borough and should be in place in all 32 London boroughs within the next few months, said a Metropolitan Police spokesman, who asked not to be identified in line with police rules.

WikiWikiWikiWhat!

I am having a pretty extreme case of the ol' blogger's block, as the kids are calling it these days. Speaking of kids these days, did you know that the kids in my class don't use Wikipedia? I mean, it's not even banned- they just don't use it. I find this pretty fascinating, because it seems like everyone in the USA is completely dependent on it, myself included. I'm pretty sure it is the best invention ever. I mean, what did the printing press ever do? Well, let's just have a looksee on Wikipedia. . . Oh, nevermind- it did a lot.

- Lunn

...And, by popular demand...
THING I FORGOT TO BRING TO ENGLAND: More money.

NUMBER OF TIMES ALMOST DEAD DUE TO "WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD" THING: Dude you don't even KNOW how good I am at this whole street thing. Consider this category terminated.

FUNNY THING BRITS SAY WRONGLY: An eraser is known as a "rubber." I kid you not. Try keeping a straight face the next time a little kid shouts out "Does anyone have a rubber? I need a rubber!"

Happy Mum's Day

Wouldn't you know it? England doesn't celebrate Mother's Day- they do celebrate something called "Mothering Sunday" in March, but it's not quite the same. Did you know that you Americans' Mother's Day was a thing honoring moms whose kids died in battle? In that case, sorry mom, you didn't earn anything this year. Maybe next. Nevertheless, I hope you have a wonderful brunch that you probably made anyway.

Apples

Being that Friday night I was kept awake by people peeing and puking outside of my window (the Friday Campus Bop this week was themed "American High School" and everyone was supposed to dress up like cheerleaders and American Football players. And act like morons.), I wanted to escape the whole "people" thing and go sit in the park. I staked out a spot in the middle of Richmond Park (those of you who are die-hard readers of this here blog [Laura] might remember that Richmond Park is this massive few square miles of deer and awesomeness]).

Being that I am an expert on deer micro-migration, I saw that the huge herd of like 8 million deer were facing one way, so I went up about 1/2 mile and staked (stook?) out a spot beside a fallen tree. There I sat, book in hand, Jonny Greenwood in ear, and waited. Within hours, I was surrounded by a big old herd of rather scruffy-looking deer. That is, until the Apple Couple came.

Being that I too was in the park and very fascinated with the deer, I couldn't totally complain that my Thoreau moment was interrupted by these two 30-something lovers taking a stroll towards the herd. But it was seriously cramping my style- the deer all stopped what they were doing (eating grass, or course) and started moving away from the Apple Couple. Undeterred, the Apple Couple then headed towards the deer, this time with more speed. And wouldn't you know it? The deer started getting a little more nervous.

Being that they were called the Apple Couple, the Apple Couple then had a brilliant plan to lure the deer towards them- they threw apples at the deer! Unfortunately, the deer mistook this gesture of kindness for a human throwing a fucking projectile at them, and they ran away. And did this finally teach the Apple Couple a lesson on animal watching? Of course not! The male of the Apple Couple then walked further into the field, picked up the apples, and threw them again! By this time, the deer had scattered everywhere, leaving a large deerless patch in the park for me and the Apple Couple, who by now had resigned to laying down on a blanket and making out.

And again, a guy in the back says, "Is this art?"

This past weekend, while going through my usual stack of hundreds of pounds of fan mail, I came upon a lovely e-mail from my dear friend Emily, who politely informed me that Banksy, the most famous stenciler/graffiti artist ever, and other not-as-famous stencilers/graffiti artists ( believe it or not, artists 8-BALL and BABYGURL and JESUS SAVES are not household names yet, despite their dedication to the art of graffiti) would all be converting a disgusting London train station into a work of art over the course of the weekend. This, among other reasons, is why Emily is my friend.

I went to the event and it was way cool. The video is kind of long (almost an entire New Pornographer's song) but i think it shows some of the cool stuff on the walls.

Other than that, I don't have much to report. The weather has been amazing all week, and everyone keeps saying to lap it up, because it won't be here long.

I am currently planning a trip in late May to Northern Sweden (like the mutha f'in' Arctic Circle) to see the sun at midnight. As my dear old dad would say, if there's one thing in life that I wish I could do, it would be to see the sun at midnight. That, or take a glass-blowing class. Or read National Geographic. You get the idea.

Big Rocks And Big Baths

I was really excited this week, because my colleagues and I booked a bus tour to go to Stonehenge. But then when I found out that Stonehenge is not Easter Island I was less excited and more embarrassed.

Even with the obnoxious highway running way too close to the monument, Stonehenge was pretty cool. We then got back on the bus and drove to the city of Bath (rhymes with "goth"). Bath was home to some hot springs back in the day, so when the Romans conquered England they set up this pretty incredible public bath as a way to...um...pay homage...to....Minerva! That's it- Minerva! She sure could use a shrine! ... Of course, this was a way for Roman Englishmen to say "Honey, I'm off to pray to Minerva" which really meant "Me and the boys are gonna get naked and talk about the latest news of The Empire."

So a Day at the Baths would be something like this:

1. Take off your toga (I don't actually know if they wore togas) and give it to your slavechild.
2. Sit in a sauna, heated by the hot-ass spring water running underneath the floor.
3. Get dirt and oil scraped off by a eunuch with a blunt blade (evidently this was pre-loofas).
4. Go into a hot tub.
5. Probably hook up with your slavechild, but they didn't mention that in the tour.
6. Go into a warm pool, socialize.
7. Go into a cold tub, swear.
8. Put your toga back on, give your slavechild a tip and a wink.
9. Go home and get killed by a Viking.