Stockholm is my town. Love was born in 1994, a lightning strike, a love hidden for many years. One day 16 years later I decided to do an inspection to observe the situation in Sverige general of the city. I got there and I felt immediately at home. I arrived in Nyköping, and from there took the bus to the city center, in the Norrmalm. At first I was quiet, I took a turn for the Gamlastan and there was the greatest emotion, a view of the pier (Gamlastan is a small island located between Södermalm and Norrmalm Mälarem overlooking the lake in a westerly direction). The view was fantastic, I looked down to the lake to my right is the Italian-style town hall with the three crowns on the tower symbol of the country - wonderful - and on the left a rocky wall with colored houses. After Gamlastan, per un attimo, attinsi al Sodermalm dove mangiai al McDonald's. Era fantastico, anche se mi sentivo distrutto perché era sera e la notte scorsa non avevo dormito, tanto che al momento di pagare, invece di pagare 60 korone diedi alla cassiera 600 korone, che sarebbero 60 euro. Fu una risata generale e dissi alla cassiera che avrebbe potuto approfittare di me e rubarmi tutto perché non avevo dormito l'ultima notte. Lei sorrise. Il giorno dopo potevo praticamente già gettare via la mappa. La maglietta finlandese, che utilizzavo per girare per l’arcipelago, riscuote successo subito, infatti già il primo giorno mi fermò un gruppetto di ragazze le quali mi gridarono: Anteeksi! che in finlandese significa scusa (le ragazze facevano “colletta”, was a kind of bridal shower). Walking through the center, I step in front of a boy who greeted me: Tervo, from time to time I heard people shouting something in Finnish friendly, and a gentleman stopped me and asked me what makes a Finn in Stockholm. One of the objectives was to see a moose in Stockholm, which is probably one of the most fascinating animals there are, in fact, is the only family of deer for which the male and female contends with his huge antlers, the female witch. In the evening more special was when turning the small island south of downtown, the Södermalm, where going to dinner I saw that the bar down the road, the Götgatan the main street of the islet, people watching a game: I spent one, I passed a second and third bar I entered and asked who was playing, was Sverige, and asked where they were playing and told me to Stockholm, and said .. urca are playing here! Going to dinner almost carefree, but suddenly I had a flash ... and I thought I throw to the stadium, I took a ride the subway and asked where was this stage and he said that because there are 3 stages in Stockholm, and then I said they probably played Solna Rosunda where is the stadium, got them running without knowing if the game was over or not arrived at the gate and told me that there were about 30 minutes and I could not get in, I get to the girl's I told him that was my compleanno e lei mi rispose che era anche il suo di compleanno, gli mostrai il documento ma non bastò per convincerla. Feci qualche battuta con lei e cercai di trovare una soluzione, vidi un signora in un cancello li vicino, andai da lei e mi disse che a settembre ci sarebbe stata un’altra partita… le spiegai la situazione e per miracolo mi fece entrare. Entrai che c’era lo stadio pieno le due tribune e la curva tutte giallo blu cantando sveeerigé , sveeerigè , ai quali mi unii anch’io, e la curva ospiti “ulma” di scozzesi in kilt probabilmente quasi tutti mezzi ubriachi che urlavano 3 volte più forte degli svedesi che erano più del triplo di loro. Alla fine della partita I managed to get close to the curve of Sweden.
took her walking on Tunnelbana (meters) in which there were virtually all the Scottish fans and I finally understood why in those days around the capital were a lot of Scots in kilts, I met a guy in particular Scottish half drunk, I was attacked in front of me to crush the underground, who was stubborn to understand what was my pendant of the necklace, I told him that I had been two months before Fatima, where Our Lady had appeared, he do not know where it was Fatima. We met a little ', and told his friends who are better than us ... we also have a fucking ... Italian! (This and other stories "Scandinavian" can be read on the blog samufinska.blogspot )
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