Heroes of our time

Where have you been?

Been searching all along

Came facing twilight on and on

Without a clue

Without a sign

Without grasping yet

The real question to be asked

Where have I been?

Where have I been really? We are on life's path trying to find our purpose and success and trying to find our other half. Can someone tell me what is temptation and what is love before I go crazy? I gave everything, or maybe nothing and now I am erasing the dreams day by day. Can you do something to make the pain go away?

I just want to loudly scream "I can't take it anymore, I can't figure it out". But then again maybe the answer lies within me instead. Yes, that's it. I am grateful that there are a couple of people that still love me for what I am. I used to shine with the brightest flame and frankly I am surprised that they still can see it through all the darkness and the mask. I wear a mask at all times, hiding both face and mind, afraid that if I take off the mask the darkness will be revealed. Or maybe not anymore? Is it time for my second phoenix rebirth?

Sebastian threw me a punch in the ring last Thursday that was so strong that it made me dizzy. He kept pummeling me in the body with multiple shots, just like how life has been hitting me since that dreaded moment I met the girl with the flower headband. But instead of throwing punches at me, she only tried to throw me love. And I failed miserably. And 2 years later I am still here writing about it.

As Sebastian was hitting me with everything he had my mind was wondering in time and space while the pain was almost giving me a headache. But I knew I had to pull through. I always did. I waited for him to punch me and leave himself open and then I crushed his jaw with my right fist. I let a shriek that echoed strong within the room as there was a clash of bone and sinew.

He kept going. My stomach was purple and I wanted to fall on my knees and say "Please, that's enough". But instead I looked for another opening while allowing myself to be punched. Right hook, dove under and hit him right in the ribs, then with a left hook in the face. I understood how strong us humans can be and how important 1 punch can be when compared to dozens. Maybe I am a sadist or a masochist and I enjoy the pain somehow. Maybe it is a matter of upbringing and past memories.

I took a look at the only 2 pictures I have from her and me and they show my nadir and zenith. I took a deep breath and started talking to her. In the picture.

"Hej...I....I did something good today. I saved some people in the metro. I wish you could have seen me. I thought you would have been proud of me. Maybe even yell at me for being heroic and that I should not do these things so I can come back home safe."

When people asked me what is my greatest fear, I always replied that it was heights, or the fear of edges. But she made me realize that my greatest fear is being part of a family again. But you can't be a hero if you only care about yourself.

Apart from all the terrible things that happened to me and all the terrible feelings that I made you go through, we kept coming back. The reason I left you is the same reason I kept coming back. The fear, the pain of losing someone you care so much about and when you try falsely to protect them with the only way I know...pushing them away.

Sometimes..sometimes losing people is a part of life...but...this doesn't mean you should stop letting them in...Some very wise people taught me that. My life's love that I cherished the most reminded me how it is to feel loved again and what true love feels like. She taught me that I, for all my faults, have something that is worth loving.

I pushed myself to get out of the house more recently and I had real help from someone over the past month that I am so grateful for that it is difficult to put into words. She stands just 1.52 cm over the ground but she stands tall like a mountain. She might not realize it but she is one of the most important people that I have met lately and one of the reasons I am putting some extra effort and to get out of my comfort zone. I would rather be surrounded by 1-2 people like her than a whole horde of people that don't really care about me and text me only when Facebook reminds them that it is my birthday. So thank you. I love you for what you are.

I'm a shapeshifter. What else could I be?

Goodnight Sweden

Infiltrating the Swedish nightlife - How do they do it?

Last week I was supposed to go out on Saturday and meet up my friend Dimitris. Sadly, Saturday was the day of the Greek Football Cup Final versus AEK and PAOK. When you pit the fans of these two teams together that almost share the same banner but with a different color, it is like putting a group of hooligans against each other. Better say, you are.

Needless to say, everything went well as expected. A guy was knifed, people went in the hospital, police looked there waving and then the Final started. PAOK won 2-1 with a controversial decision, my friend was gutted and told me that he will stay home and grief instead of going out with me to grief with a pint or two.

So here I am, 21:00 o'clock pondering what should I do. I wear my nice black pants, shoes and shirt and I start making my way to Hornstull in my classic place - Hornhuset (pretty hilarious name to be honest). I decided to go out and write about the nightlife in Stockholm in a rather popular place where things happen all the time. The previous day was equally eventful as I saw 2 guys sniffing cocaine from their mobile phone right in the metro train at 7 pm. I am literally speechless. Good job Sweden!

I make it to the bar, say hi to the guard. He asks me if I am alone and I say yes and that I go there every week. He smiles, says "welcome sir", because apparently I am one and I get inside to be welcomed by 80's pop music.

I go to the top floor to observe, get a beer but there is nothing interesting going on at that point so I grab my coat and beer and go downstairs again. There is a girl sitting on a guy's lap next to some of their friends. She stands up, probably to go to the bathroom and the guy does whatever a guy would/should do in 2017 (hint, I am being sarcastic): slaps her ass so hard that I heard it from 3 meters away. She turns back, gives him a whydidyoudothatbutitsok look and goes on with her business while the guy revels in the spoils of victory like a baboon.

I manage to keep my composure and I move in to the tables where I can sit. There was a company of rather young Swedes with a lot of drunk girls and more joined them later. I had some space next to me and there was this blonde guy called Fabian who had no place to sit so I actually told him that there is space if he wants to. He asked me if I am alone and I said yes.

"That is very nice of you", he said to me. It felt nice to hear that.

Then two black guys that were wearing their hats sideways (because it is always gangsta) started praying on women around the tables and dancing terribly in some sort of liquid dancing robot. That led me to the thought that in Sweden everyone dances weirdly, or terribly, or whatever they want and they don't seem to care about it. Frankly, I can't do that, I feel like a fool and the fact that I rarely drink doesn't help either. But man those guys were just the tip of the iceberg. There were man-vultures all over the place, going like a machine-gun from woman to woman trying to score.

At one point I saw what I thought was a couple kissing really passionately and I became pretty happy because it looked so genuine. I ended up seeing the girl in tears leaving the metro 5 hours later.

I was alone so I had to pretend to play with my phone to not look like a creep too much. I ended up reading some amazing psychedelic posts on my Facebook news-feed and then to go have a second and last beer. I had to wait 33,6 hours in the queue because hot girls were a priority instead of a well dressed, polite and sober young man (I am still young at 28 right?).

Then Doctor Zhivago entered the fray when I started to feel way too hot in the bar. The zhivago reference is probably unknown to anyone outside Greece and we use it when someone wears a turtleneck sweater. I felt like a volcano ready to explode just by looking at him. It was like 30 degrees in there.

Then came the moment that I dread the most when I am out. I needed to pee. I take a deep breath and go in the toilets. Snus everywhere. Snus on the walls, snus on the ground, snus in the sink, snus in the toilet, snus in the snus. Next to me a guy is relieving himself with peacock sounds and another one is betting on Bet365. Which reminds me of another sad soul in the bar that was playing Candy Crush. For the love of baby Jesus i am not joking.

When I started to be a bit bored, Fabian came to the toilet and remembered me and he stood there and chatted with me a little. He was embarrassed that his female friends were so drunk that they were on the table dancing. It was interesting to hear that as most of the time, who cares?

Then the popcorn moment of the night happened when guys started punching each other and the guards reacted like the recovery of the Greek economy (hint, very slow). So I did what I had to do, went to a guard, told him punches in the bar, he looked very surprised and ran to calm the spirits. Laugh? Cry? Both? Hilarious nonetheless.

Just when I was about to leave I saw a guy drinking beer and between his legs he had a motorized unicycle. In the bar. I am speechless again.

Awkward to say the least. But at least they are on a unicycle, and you are not right??

Bar closed and I began to make my way home after I had some mandatory crappy food in McDonald's with random Greek guys I met in the tube. It was not a bad night and it is proof that you can have a good time even by yourself!

In the meantime, I will go back to my trance and try to figure what is wrong with this place. Or maybe it isn't. Maybe weird is the new black. Or maybe I am weird and it is normal. Or maybe I should just go sleep now. Too much Eurovision drinking yesterday.

Laters Sweden.

Me against the world - The Winter Soldier

Hej.

I have come a long way since last year when I began studying Swedish to change my future into something better. The other day in school we were asked to interview a person and write a reportage about it. I completed my reportage and then submitted it. The teacher told me that it was a fantastic text and my friends said:

"Thanks for letting us read it."

"It looks like a story that I would like to read more about."

"You should publish it."

So here I am posting it after the requests. Who knows, maybe it will resonate with someone. Someone might even pick up the secret at the person I interviewed was myself. It is in Swedish though, making it my first Swedish post so it is strictly for Swedish users or someone that wants to see what have I accomplished in 5 months of learning the language. Enjoy.

"Jag mot världen"

Att flytta till ett annat land och leva helt ensam är inte lätt. Ändå är det precis det som Vintersoldaten har gjort och idag berättar han om sitt beslut att resa bort från sitt land och försöka att finna lycka i Sverige. Den här är hans berättelse.

Figur 1. Svart och vitt som mitt liv

Jag bestämmer mig för att promenera vid Sergels Torg i centrala Stockholm för att hitta en person som är villig att prata lite om sitt liv. Jag föredrar att samtala med en person från ett annat land, en person som har flyttat till Sverige och skulle vilja prata om livets svårigheter. Dagen är underbar, himlen är klarblå och solen skiner. Gatan är fylld av folk och jag beslutar mig för att besöka ett populärt café nära Kulturhuset.

Caféet är slitet men hemtrevligt. Dekorationen är modern med många målningar av populära svenska konstnärer men det finns en gammalmodig känsla också. Jag tittar på folket runt omkring mig och jag ser en intressant person som sitter på en gammal läderfåtölj. Han verkar trött men stark på samma gång och hans ögon är svarta, klara och ger intryck av en bestämd person som har haft ett svårt liv. Jag närmar mig och presenterar mig själv, och jag frågar om jag får prata med honom. Efter en stunds resonerande bestämmer sig för att diskutera med mig och svara på alla mina frågor men han har en begäran. Han vill inte avslöja sin identitet och vill kallas som Vintersoldaten istället.

Vintersoldaten är 28 år gammal och kommer från Medelhavet som jag. Jag är nyfiken nu och vill veta mer om honom.

-Jag har bott i Sverige i 3 år, och i somras flyttade jag till Stockholm för att påbörja min karriär efter universitetet i Uppsala. Livet är svårt eftersom jag är ensam nu och jag har inga släktingar i Sverige. Nu har jag ett extrajobb som precis räcker för att överlevaär nog att överleva men jag måste hitta ett bättre jobb snart eller så kommer jag att svälta, jag kommer att svälta, berättar Vintersoldaten.

Jag undrar /hur man kan resa bort från sitt hemland och lämna alla sina vänner och familj bakom sig. Vad driver någon att vända sin värld upp och ner?

-Mitt hemland har bara dåliga minnen för mig. Folket lider varje dag och jag vill göra en skillnad i världen. Det var ett ganska lätt beslut att flytta till Sverige men i början kände jag mig ensam för mycket och ofta ifrågasatte jag mig själv men nu förstår jag att jag är starkare eftersom jag är en kämpe som kommer att lyckas i framtiden, säger han med en klar röst.

Jag kan känna passionen och kraften i hans ord. Jag sitter fokuserad och frågar mer om hans familj. Har han några personer som han kan lita på? Finns det någon speciell i hans liv?

-Förra året var jättesvårt för mig och min familj. Min far blev sjuk och nu måste jag skicka pengar till honom så att han kan köpa sina mediciner. Min morbror avled och min mamma är deprimerad nu tyvärr. Jag har två goda vänner men jag förlorade en tjej som jag hade förälskat mig i. Det var den svåraste perioden i mitt liv och jag försöker fortfarande att återhämta mig, berättar Vintersoldaten med en tår i sina ögon.

Det finns många invandrare i Stockholm men jag är nyfiken på hur han känner. Jag vill också höra mer om tjejen som krossade hans hjärta. Han tar tar ett djupt andetag innan han svarar.

-Stockholmare är snälla, vänliga folk som som ofta vill hjälpa dig och försöka att vara artiga. Jag har inga anklagelser mot dem. Problemet är att många också är oärliga, och det finns väldigt ofta en känsla av social rasism i luften. Det är svårt att få jobb när du kommer från ett annat land och om ditt namn inte slutar på –sson. Det gör mig arg men också bestämd att lyckas och förverkliga mina drömmar, säger han.

Han vill inte prata om tjejen men han är villig att prata om sitt smeknamn och ge några råd till andra invandare och folk.

-Det finns ingenting speciellt med mitt smeknamn. Jag växte upp i en svårt livsmiljö och varje dag är som en vinter. Men jag är en kämpe och ska aldrig ge upp. Detta är varför jag valde att kalla mig “Vintersoldaten”. Mitt råd till alla människor är att våga och följa era drömmar. Ni kan verkligen göra skillnad i världen och utforska era gränser. Ni kan bli något mer än endast en person i mängden. Våga att förälska dig och när du hittar en person som är villig att ge sitt allt för dig, öppna ditt hjärta och personen komma in. Jag förlorade min chans. Var inte som jag, berättar Vintersoldaten.

Jag tittar på honom och försöker att absorbera allt. Han tackar mig och önskar mig en trevlig helg. Jag är mållös men jag har en sista fråga.

-Vem är du egentligen?, frågar jag honom medan han går iväg.

Han vrider sitt huvud, tar en lång paus och tittar på mig. Hans blick når min själ.

- Vem jag är? Jag är hjärtslaget av ett sant hjärta, säger han och lämnade caféet.

Det är hur en invandrare ser på världen i Stockholm i 2017.