Limboless A Little While

“I have to make a drive to Lommo, do you want to come and we can talk on the way?” Erik asks. Of course, that sounds like a good idea. Our errand starts by swinging through Erik’s parents’ place in the northern part of the city, and I step inside to say a quick hello. They treated Elias and I to an exceptional dinner in Malmö during our first week of traveling, so it’s welcome back rather than introductions. Nils asks me where I am living and when I respond that I don’t know yet, he counters, “isn’t that pretty fundamental?” Yes, thank you, I’m quite aware. I smile. “I’m working on it.” Swedes are very exacting, and I’m a bit ambivalent for their tastebuds.

Erik and I hop back into the car and finally broach the subject. The conversation flows almost anti-climactically. Erik’s best friend has been unofficially living at the apartment for several weeks, but for reasons that I won’t discuss here, he has yet to finalize the arrangement with Erik. Long story short, Erik could use some rent money and I sure as hell could use a place to stay. So here I am, an official resident of Lund. At least for the next two weeks. We agreed on that amount of time so that I could get my bearings and see how it goes here in Lund. I’m still holding out for the possibility of Stockholm, but I’d obviously rather stay with Erik than at a hostel in the big city looking for a place.

Part of me feels strangely disappointed. That was too easy. In the months leading up to my trips I’ve heard tales from several adult friends of their own similar adventures years ago, and quite a few of them showed up in a foreign land with virtually no money and no connections whatsoever. How adventurous am I, who takes the first available apartment, with his friend’s cousin no less? But then whatever remains of my rationality kicks in, and I realize that this isn’t a game. I’m not competing to win an audacity contest. I am here, believe it or not, to be a musician – in all loose definitions of the term.

We arrive at our destination and Erik steps inside to take care of his business. I wait, and glance down at the car stereo that I have yet to sample. On it goes, and I scan the stations for something listenable. What pops up but a rendition of Van Morrison’s classic “Crazy Love,” covered by Michael Bublé. I chuckle as I hear Bublé’s maple syrup voice glide through the melody. Not to toot my own horn – and yes Bublé is technically speaking an excellent singer – but I think my living-room, rough-around-the-edges version of that same song delivers a bit more soul than his does. Anyway, you can listen to both and let me know. I won’t take it personally if you side with Bubes. Besides, he does have an enviable orchestra behind him.

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