americans in sweden

Yesterday, at 5:00 am I woke up and made some coffee. I made six cups of coffee. I drank 1.5. Oops. But after showering and throwing my hair in a pony tail, I hopped on the bus and then the train to Copenhagen to pick up Leslie from the airport.
I got there an hour early- because you never know if the train will be late, if her plane would be early, etc etc. And there was a Starbucks at the airport. There are no Starbucks in Sweden- well, they just opened one at Arlanda airport in the international terminal. It doesn't really count. I got a grande latte. Um, those things are huge. Since when did grande become so so big? Maybe it's because everything is a bit smaller here. Like toothpaste and shampoo and I guess drinks- they are all what I now think of as "perfectly sized." But I remember thinking of them as tiny, itty bitty a year ago.
And the latte was utterly disgusting.

I got to a lot of people watching. A plane from Singapore landed before Leslie's and there were so many young women coming out from the plane to meet older, Scandinavian men. There must've been at least 20 individual meetings of cute, young girls in heels meeting old, old men in khaki pants.

After awhile, Leslie came out through the doors looking like she hadn't been on an 8 hour plane ride. Seriously, who dresses that cute and looks that put together after such a long day of traveling?
We went back to our apartment, breakfasted, and then we took naps. Only an hour. But we were both still exhausted after the nap (I had no good excuse other than waking up early), so after like 2 hours of walking around the town, we went back and took even longer naps.
G came home from work, we had dinner outside, drank rose wine, and later watched a fascinating episode of "Hoarders."
It is still a bit surreal that Leslie is here. In Sweden.  It's like, the best.