Moving is usually a straight-forward business. But there’s always a bit of uncertainty. Canceling everything connected with the old life and ordering everything anew. Although this can be exhilarating, doing such things in certain places can be a tad bit on the unnerving side. Sweden fits among such places. Sure, it could be a lot worse, but there is also a lot of room for improvement.

Canceling the apartment lease two months before leaving is still quite reasonable, but it strikes me as incredibly obtuse that in Sweden you have to literally beg to get the electricity bill. Not that I’m incredibly gung-ho about parting with money, but I cannot understand why the electricity company wants to send the bill in two months’ time and obviously to the wrong address as some complete stranger will live in the same place. And when it comes to Swedish bureaucratic thinking it’s not that difficult to imagine incurring huge debts and eventually being hunted by the international crime busting special forces.

Speaking of which, this is not even the proverbial tip of the iceberg when it comes to Swedish slowness in processing things. What one would expect it would take a couple of key strokes or at most hours to resolve, takes literally months to accomplish in Sweden. Say, for instance, student registration. I arrived to Sweden in January as a visiting student at the Göteborg University. One would think that it would be only a matter of a simple formality to get the official stamp confirming me being a student. But no, after three months I became one and was entitled to everything students are, such as a library card. I mean seriously, think about this. It’s not like I get paid by the university to study. It’s the library card type of things that are at stake here.

I don’t want to get started again on the witless bureaucrats and their papers, but there’s just one more thing that I cannot resist mention.

One thing I was sure about when I was leaving Sweden was that I can stay if I desired to do so. Not just to study, but also with a working permit. Forever, if I wanted. Too bad I found this out two days before I left. Yes, just two days before my departure I have received a letter from the Swedish immigration office stating that I am allowed to stay, study, work or do whatever in Sweden. Thank you and good to know, although I would feel much more welcome if I were to receive it a bit earlier, nevertheless.

But what really kept me busy the morning of departure as I walked in circles around the only room in the apartment is, where the hell am I going to stuck all these papers, those few but only dishes and tons of tiny useful crap. There isn’t much choice as everything that does not come along goes to the garbage bin. And being the hamster I am, that would really be the last resort in desperation to catch that five o’clock train.

Even though the situation was a bit tense at that moment, I was at least happy that I could at least in theory take all my possessions with me. This time around the name of the game was carry all that you can carry and not 20 kg, without sharp objects, water, bare feet and in fear of latex gloves being prepared for inner inspection. That said, I am incredibly tired of flying and all the haste and unneccessary security crap associated with it. Trains are great. They might be slow, but people are more relaxed and I can take chef knives, water, wear shoes on my feet and as it turned out 108 kg of, well, stuff. Or to be more precise 54 kg per person: six backpacks and three boxes. Mind boggling, but it was actually hilarious.

Six hours of packing later, and finally, the last item gets to go into the box. Fridge is empty, stomachs are full. In the attempt to avoid wasting any food new culinary combinations are tried out. After eating sushi gari, truffles, pasta, pesto and mustard and washing everything down with milk, I didn’t wonder anymore why such dish is not on offer in any restaurant. I did, however, hope this last minute foolish experiment wouldn’t cause digestive problems on a three-day trip ahead.

The apartment is locked and stuff carried to the elevator with great amusement as this is the first time I actually lift my share of backpacks. All together they weight 44 kg and had to be carried to the train station. But once everything was on the train, the rest was pretty straight forward: sit down and enjoy the ride.

Mladen