Jonkoping was this ghetto place with dirt-smeared pastel yellow walls and poorly laid concrete lanes.
I was posted to Delta House, and had a room on the 5th floor with a window (basically a square cut-out on a solid cement wall) overlooking a construction site. The scaffolding lies less than a metre away, and I was breathing in all the musty brown smells of ground and cement.
Next to my room was the common kitchen. There were a couple of tall and big-sized angmohs stirring beer in a huge metal basin over a slow fire. They didn't look at me. I'm a new inhabitant. They don't know me. I'm shy.
My dad was furious to see the living conditions. He insisted that I be posted to Grashagen instead, where there are rooms suitable for family units. We are gonna stay with you. We insist.
I met Waileng on the street so we went to a hawker centre because she was craving for 酿豆腐.
[How much of this reflects reality, I don't know. But it's been a while since I've had one without fantastical elements o.o think this Sweden thing is taking over my mind.]
