Firstly, happy birthday, Thomas!
Secondly, Melissa came by a few days ago to drop off some produce, since she was leaving for a week in Spain with her boyfriend; the sudden acquisition of an avocado, a tomato, and a lime could only mean one thing: MOTHER EFFING GUAC TIME. If you give a mouse a cookie he's going to want some milk and if you give a Sarah guacamole she's going to want some salsa, so I took a chance on ICA's generic brand salsa (being a college student is fun). Judging from the selection at various Swedish/Dutch/Belgian supermarkets, Northern Europeans haven't yet acquired a taste for spicy foods/Mexican cuisine, so the "Mexican food section" is split into two kinds of tomato-based dips: salsa and taco sauce. I still do not know what taco sauce actually is. I consider it the Spam of Sweden. Anyways, I chose the hot salsa because a food is not spicy enough unless it makes your eyes water and your nose run; maybe I grew spoiled this summer with this delicious, bombastically spicy chipotle-raspberry salsa I was buying at Trader Joe's (sometimes I hear myself say things/watch myself type things and wonder how I've gone so long in life without getting punched in the face), but there's no way they didn't switch the labels at the salsa factory. This was the mildest salsa I have ever consumed in my life. I might as well have eaten a tomato. It was kind of the opposite of when this girl at my 17th birthday party thought that the wasabi (yeah, I had sushi at my party, along with tofu kebabs, WHAT OF IT) was guacamole and was unpleasantly surprised my the instant clearing of her sinuses. Lessons learned: never trust a Swede with a food I would most prefer to eat with a frozen margarita, and always check the identity of green, pasty foods.
Thirdly, I checked the sunrise/sunset times for my last week in Gothenburg. Sunrise: 4:20 AM. Sunset: 10:00 PM. WORTH IT.
Fourthly, I tried to go to Handelspub again last night. Got there at 8:20, still had to wait for forty minutes before becoming completely fed up and turning around and leaving. NOT WORTH IT. So over you, Handelspub.