Facial, football, and foo-foo drinks

What do you do when you're stranded in a strange land, feeling a little blue about your immigration status and job prospects, and about to fyllar 40 år? I decided that I really wanted to do something new for this year, something different, something that I would remember always and associate with this particular birthday for all time. I bet you can guess what I decided to do... that's right, I decided to... to... do something girly.

Fortunately S., my football pal who loaned us her apartment in the spring, is also bit more of a girly-girl than I am, and knows plenty about this sort of stuff. No sooner had I suggested that we do something like this together than she had booked us an afternoon at a beauty school. The day before, I went and got a hair cut (at long last!), and then Tuesday June 2, I was off to the Big City.

The schedule: first, the facial. It took an hour and half—who knew someone could fuss with a face for so long? Pictures were (probably) not allowed of the spa area itself, but here's the end result. It was quite fun, although as it turns out I do not much fancy having my eyebrows plucked. Ouch! Second on the agenda, a nearby establishment for some liquid refreshment and a chat about the facial. For this purpose we went to Centralbadet, with its art nouveau architecture and oasis-like inner courtyard and beer garden, with the sunlight filtering through the fully-leafed trees, and lilacs bushes in full bloom. Feeling a need for some more substantial fare, we then headed toward an Irish pub that makes a darn fine basket of french fries, which we had with vinegar and salt. We then caught the underground train to take us to the soccer game, which feature the team I'm supporting this year against the team that S. supports. My team won, although I missed The Goal (a mighty nice one too, I was told later).

After the game, back to the subway and into town, and to Gondolen, a posh bar with a fabulous view of the city (webcams), to cap off the evening with a girly drink. The rhubarb is in season just now, and so we each had a rabarbersvaj, a pink and somewhat sweet and foamy confection of rhubarb, sugar, ice cream perhaps? and maybe a spot of vodka or something like that (though I swear I could not taste it at all). The evening wore on, which means that it was somewhat dim outside when we left at 1am. We took the bus, and had a bit of a welcome walk, back to her apartment, encountering various other night owls also coming out of bars late on a Tuesday. (All quite friendly, I might add: even the drunks here are generally polite.)

A super-fun day, all-in-all, despite the eyebrow plucking (did I mention that it hurts?), and I felt that my birthday had been properly celebrated. Thanks, S.! (but wait, there is more birthday celebration to come... stay tuned for the next post, which I hope to write up sometime before I turn 41...)