Medis

Stockholm, September 2016

My new apartment was located in my favorite island in the Stockholm Archipelago: Södermalm. Apartment Buildings of the beginning of the 20th century, which with the past of time became the hub of the small hipster coffees, start-ups and exotic restaurants. I stood in one of the windows of the last floor of my building starring at the homogenous black roofs that spread in every direction until they  met  the water of lake Mälaren. My student apartment was completely empty, beside a desk, a bed and the empty white walls which reflected the sunlight; I needed new curtains.

I stared through my window, as I still do now, and looked at the people that walked through Götgatan with no idea that I was looking at them as they, one by one, appeared and disappeared in both directions. And old couple, the hipster looking dude pushing his son’s stroller, the gypsy woman picking cans from the trash, the young kids smoking to be cool, the under-paid foodora couriers. I could stare at them, make stories of their lives in my mind and they will disappear from my site one moment after.

University was starting and my morning ritual will be followed, for the rest of my days in this place, with a walk to the Medborgplatsen Metro Station or as the locals called: Medis. From now on I began telling the people I lived near medis which , due to the housing crisis in Stockholm , gave me some kind of privileged status and made ten times easier to convince a girl to go back home with me after the club. I was in love with Södermalm; with Stockholm. I got to finally be a anonymous in a city where nobody really knew who I was or even cared.  Every time I had the chance, I would explore every inch of the island. Every little graffiti bar or café. I ran along the water by day and partied hard during the night at Trädgården.  I walked through Slussen through the crows. I smoke pot and drank beer at Skinnarviksberget. I hooked up with a ballet dancer behind Allhelgonakyrkan. I watched the exhibitions at Fotografiska. I left a stencil under Skanstull bridge

I was a restless tiger and Södermalm was my little jungle.

Days at the hostel

Stockholm, August 2016

I landed in Arlanda around midday. It wasn’t a busy flight and there wasn’t really a lot of people at the airport. I took the shuttle bus to the city struggling with all the luggage I had on me. Before leaving, a good friend put me in contact with another Mexican who was also moving to the city and we reached each other. Neither of us had received an apartment yet so we picked a hostel near the central station and agreed to meet there. Two Mexicans form the north with the same name at the same city in the other side of the world,  what were the odds.

I had not felt the jetlag yet and somehow my excitement to finally moving away becoming a reality gave me energies to keep moving the 42 kg which made my life at the moment around the city. The sky was grey and it wasn’t exactly warm, which didn’t really bother us. The hostel was quite central, maybe just a little too hipster. Victor’s room was full, so they put me in a different room with 3 other persons. I went to the room left the bags and took a shower. I came out of the shower room and a beautiful Icelandic girl entered the room with her two brothers.  We had some small talk before I left. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes and was short and quite fit. She wasn’t able to stop looking at me, later on she confessed that I was the first Mexican she saw in real life and I wasn’t neither fat or had a mustache which made me somehow exotic. Like I hadn’t hear that story a thousands times before in Europe.

Victor and me went for a walk around town and agreed to meet some other newly arrived international students for a festival. I knew a Russian girl whit whom I had contact online before arriving was coming and for her pictures I knew she was hot, making the evening a little more exiting. The festival turned up to be great and we ended up watching Caravan Palace play during the evening. The other students showed up lat and the Russian girl was less friendly and less good looking in person, so I didn’t really bothered to push something.

On the way back to the hostel ,as we crossed Sergelstorg, I came to the realization that what I planned actually was being a reality and that all the time waiting for a change, waiting for something to happen, hopping to try something else besides the usual ; everything was happening at that moment. That every step I walked through Drottningatan made it clearer that my road and plans were consolidating themselves by the mere fact that I was being there. I felt I could do it all, that nothing would stop me for moving forward and reaching my goals.

We went back into the hostel and decided to have a couple of drinks, nobody at the hostels bar seemed really interesting so we called it a night. Back in my room, I managed to make out with the Icelandic girl since her brothers went out and she stayed back. My jetlag was kicking in and she didn’t wanted to have sex and I didn’t push. I moved to my bed and passed out almost immediately. Victor and me spent the  rest of the days at the hostel wondering the city while I awkwardly made out with the Icelandic girl every time her brothers were away at night. However, we never past third base.

Not long after,  I crashed a swedish friends place for a couple of days more until I got the keys to my own apartment and  I officially became an inhabitant of Stockholm.

Starting Again

Mexico City, August 2016

It was finally happening: I was leaving. A mix of emotions invaded my heart as the taxi driver drove to my hotel. It was raining and the endless lines of cars moved slowly during the rush  hour.

“Sweden? Do they have good food over there? – The taxi driver asked trying to make some small talk.

“Not that I know, everything is served with potatoes and almos none spices” – I answered while looking at the window. The kid in the car next door waved at me as we pass each other by. I waved back and looked away.

“Damn, you will have a bad time at the table son. I guess you are at least bringing some salsas with you right? – The taxi driver said while laughing.

“I do have the basics. Tequila, salsa bottles, some tajin and a small supply of spicy candies.” – I said.  I didn’t really remember what actually was inside my luggage. I couldn’t fit my life in 42 kg of luggage, rather  pieces of the things that made my daily life back in Monterrey. Sincerely, I didn’t care. It was not the first time I was leaving and I knew deep inside me that I had to leave.

It took around thirty minutes to reach the hotel, despite it being close by. The rain was slowly going away and the lights of the cars and buildings slowly turned on, marking the beginning of the night; the night which covered the endless streets of Mexico City. I checked in and left my bags inside my room and hit the road as soon I arrived. I didn’t want to wait, because I knew the feelings of melancholy will hit at any moment. The exhausting hot days back in Monterrey, the routine weekend grills with my friends, and the endless mountains of the Sierra Madre which drew the skyline were gone; I was gone.

I was anxious, exited and  a the same time sad to leave. I got inside an uber and went to Condesa. I was meeting Julia, a colombian girl with whom I hooked up the previous New Years back in Playa del Carmen. We agreed to met in “Chuchito Pérez”, a trendy restaurant with a selection of exotic tacos and good cocktails in front ot the roundabout of the Cibeles’s Fountain. The truth is that I had planned my last night in Mexico very carefully the previous days: Mexican Food, Some Vampiros ( a cocktail made with tequila)  and not spending the night alone. Julia came around 15 min after me. She was wearing a white summer dress which highlighted her long legs, her hair was light brown and had dark green eyes. We met at the Mamitas Beach Club New Years party, but didn’t had sex because she was staying with her parents. She studied law at Mexico City and had a passion for old latin american rock. We had a couple of drinks and I recommend the duck tacos.

“Victor, are you sure you can endure that darkness?” – She joked.

“I guess I would take vitamin D pills” – I answered. It wasn’t the first time I was up in Scandinavia and the darkness seemed something tolerable or at least I assumed that after a couple of weeks of being there.

We left the restaurant and walked to a small cuban place where we danced salsa and got drunk in Mojitos.  I tried to ignore my phone during the night, even though people were constantly leaving me messages of goodbye. I really wanted to call every single person I loved and tell them once again that I would miss them, that I will miss them a lot, but I thought it would only make me sad during these last moments and I wanted the last night to be perfect.

It wasn’t too late when we went to my hotel, after making out in the back seat of the uber while the poor driver awkwardly tried to ignore us. We entered my room and I played a Best of Soda Stereo playlist while Julia took out of her Michale Kors black purse a joint. We smoke the joint laying in bed and had sex a couple of times. Julia left early to work and I followed after to catch my flight. There were 100 notifications in Whatsapp, but I couldn’t care to open it. I got inside the plane while playing “Volver a Comenzar” by Café Tacvba. It was what I was doing: Starting Again.