Storybook - Swedish - My Memoirs
New revised history book in correct Swedish, 2016 February 22.
History book 20080520
LITTLE HISTORY BOOK, PART ONE, WRITTEN IN VIBORG IN DENMARK, YEAR 2000 AND PARTICULAR READY REVISED IN TARIFA IN SPAIN YEAR 2006 AND VIBORG, DENMARK YEAR 2007 AND 2008 AND NORWAY 2013 AND Portugal 2015 AND DENMARK 2016.
Let's start this storybook by taking a long step back in time. Once upon a time, the universe was not created or did not occur because all dimensions, including the time dimension, extend endlessly in all directions, time has always existed, matter and energy have always existed because matter and energy are a direct result of natural laws, natural laws are direct The results of the mathematical laws and mathematical laws are a direct result of materia and the energy of an infinite cycle that has already been given BIG BANG to endlessly a few hundred billion years apart and will have a big bang to happen further An infinite number of times in an everlasting pulsating universe that always existed and will always exist. For about thirteen, seven, thirteen, eight, twenty, five or twenty seven, seven billion years ago, it said, as it always used to do with hundreds of billions of years, and suddenly the universe resumed after big slash and a short rest , What in scientific language is BIG BRAKSKIT or JEHOVA'S UPPRODUCED PROBLEM WITH GASES IN THE MAGN. Was it you who let you go?
Ten million years later, the first apes arose, a million years ago, the first people were born and, according to our ridiculous Christian countenance, Jesus was not born because he is merely a fantasy figure that never existed in reality. And about four hundred years later, Catholic mythomas created Jehovah, Jesus, Virgin Mary, the Holy Ghost, the burning hell, the witch processes, missionaries with machine guns, insecurity and perplexity to be able to sell letters and tickets to the non-existent kingdom of heaven and become rich as troll.
But that's just prehistoric, so let's go on a racial walk until the divine year 1750, then an Arab sailor from Casablanca, Morocco, also known as grandfather's grandfather's father, sailed in Lisbon, and because some of the Arabs ancestors came from Central Africa south of the Sahara Desert, of course, it is not so strange that the Arabs hurried to infect the harbor before returning to the ship. In 1791, a Portuguese sailor from Lisbon, nearer to the son of the Arab-born Arabian, trained in Amsterdam without any possibility of returning to Portugal. Are they as busy everywhere nowadays? Never trust a sailor! What he called, I have no idea, but he was my grandfather's grandfather's grandfather. In 1869, his grandson, my grandfather's grandfather, was Dutch and lived in Amsterdam, 24 years and sailor on a Dutch boat, together with his 12-year-old brother and ship boy. The boat arrived in Gothenburg and was in the harbor for two hours and everyone had two hours left and allowed to walk ashore. My grandfather's grandfather and his brother went to the pub and drank cannons on brandy (at that time there were apparently no rules about not serving twins for twelve years in the taverns), and forgot everything about time. When they came back to the harbor, the boat was far back to sea again, and there they stood like a pair of donkeys, stalked without a penny on their pocket, no opportunity to talk to people or make themselves understood (at that time there was no Who learned English at school and of course they could not speak Swedish) and without any opportunity to return home to Amsterdam again. It must have been an overwhelming horrible situation! I have no idea how they survived the first time, but eventually they both became employed by a farmer in Jonsered east of Gothenburg, and in December 1869 grandfather's grandfather married the farmer's daughter. And in 1870 my grandfather's father was born, half Dutch and half Swedish.
My family history is the story of three sailors, and it is perhaps not as strange or unusual as it sounds. In the past, the sons usually chose their father's grandfather's or grandfather's occupation, and my relatives in the backdrop of my father's fathers are completely submerged by sailors with waves in their hair, water in their knees, tongue in the toolbox and fish between the teeth. And if you got stuck in the old days, you could not get home, but later on, the seam ring could be sold to finance the home travel bill and later on, embassy assistance existed today - at least on the paper. The Swedish state is a good saga writer and many rights exist only on the paper. But a Swedish passport still has the value that the distressed can use it as toilet paper - actually the only value a Swedish passport currently has. In the past, the vast majority of immigrants were just seafarers, and now all seamen are black. There is a difference in the old good time and the new evil time. The old good time was better!
In 1920 my father was born, and on April 29, 1958, I was born in a taxi on my way to the hospital. Morsan sprayed so she later sewn together with nineteen stitches, the dad was so shocked that he spit down the damn taxi and the first thing I did when I came out was to pee a big beam straight up. My poor parents received a bill of SEK 350 for ruined taxis, a fortune at that time.
Once upon a time I had a big sister, her name was Eva and was born April 24, 1951, but unfortunately she was unhappy before I was born. On October 19, 1956, a tragic tragedy occurred, tragically tragic: My grandmother, Alice Bäckström, suffered from schizophrenia, and at that time there were no effective medicines for mental illness, so she was often affected by severe synshallucinations, an untreated schizophrenia resembling a huge LSD Almost completely confused. This fateful day was my big sister and greeted my grandmother who was alone at home and suddenly suffered from such hallucinations. My big sister was suddenly transformed into the grandmother's hallucinational world into a little green spacecraft with a gun that was very aggressive and wanted to kill grandmother. Grandmother panicked and ran into the toilet and hid, and my big sister, who could not understand why grandmother suddenly became so scared ran after. Inside the toilet was an ax that used to always lay there because it was where they knocked, and when my big sister came in after the grandmother entered the toilet, she accidentally panicked, lifted her ax and split her head into the space space in two parts. My big sister, of course, died on the spot and after five minutes, when Grandma's hallucinations suddenly disappeared again and she could see what she had done, of course she got a very hard shock. After that episode, my grandmother spent the rest of her life at psychiatric hospitals and refused to print even decades later when there were effective medications, because she was afraid she would happen again.
My mother did not suffer from schizophrenia, but she was a nerve wreck after this with Eve and when she got pregnant again in 1957, she ran around to four different doctors and tried to get abortion. But luckily, it was just cold for me everywhere. And on April 29, 1958 at 15.05 Swedish normal time (such stupidities as summer time did not exist at that time) I was born in a taxi on my way to the hospital. Morsan splashed and sewed together with nineteen stitches afterwards, the dad was so shocked that he spit down the entire taxi and the first thing I did when I came out was to pee a big beam straight up. My parents got out with 350 bucks for ruined taxi, a whole fortune at that time, it's enough like five? six? A thousand today. I was born three weeks late and my birth weight was 4996 grams, only four grams from five kilos. And before I kissed, I must have weighed even more, so it's no wonder that mother was spreading.
The first year of my life, I was allowed to spend at Barnäng's Children's Home in Redbergslid because of my mother's bad nerves, and on April 29, 1959, on my one year's birthday, my mother became lobotomerized at her own wishes and with successful results. Actually, there was a lobotomy with sister hartassass, I know that I read her journals when I worked at Lillhagen. Usually, you cut five millimeters in each tinning flap, but on my mother, I was pleased to cut only one millimeter of deep slots, and she and I are happy about it.
I developed late and was over two years before I started talking, and mom was afraid that she could have hurt her nervous medicine Meprobamat throughout the pregnancy, but meprobamat can fortunately not cause birth defects. My late development I picked up later, I was totally fascinated by letters and summer 1961, when I was only three years old and a few months old, my grandfather taught me to read and write. Already at the age of three I read a lot of books, ordinary novels for adults, and when the novels ended, I read and read both the directory and the psalm book to make the time go. The whole family was very impressed and almost did not believe their eyes when I was reading books for only three years, and everyone thought I would develop into a big genius. Actually, I do not think it's strange that I learned to read and write so young years, I'm absolutely convinced that you can learn any three-year-old to read and write only he's interested.
But as time went by, I developed less and less in genius and more and more into a totally hopeless busseed. When I was six or seven years old (or was I eight?), I was very much involved with a little odd psychopath called Anders, who was as wild as myself. Other kids used to lunta and panga street lamps, but we had a much more fun hobby as of course I was found: We used to stay down the Fräntorp highway and throw stones on the cars. We gathered some pretty big stones, aimed at the front window and threw when it was maybe ten or twenty meters left for the car to pass the place where we stood so that it became the power of both the car and the stone's velocity, the car's speed plus the stone's speed , Which became crucial and it was many times we managed to break a front window. When we got a hit and the car started to brake to stop it was just running fast as a fan into the woods and hiding. Of course, we did not realize that we simply risked the lives of people, and fortunately, we never threw it there. For Fan, think if our parents knew what we were doing ...
I was born in Olskroken, or rather I was born in a taxi and we lived in Olskroken with the exception of the first year when I was in a nursery. We, me and my parents, moved to Fräntorp when I was five years old. At first we were looking at the house. There was a very nice playhouse in the basement, and I thought that was the house my parents would buy for 165,000 kronor. I was completely in love with the Lego House, and became terrified when I suddenly realized that it was just a common house Mom and Dad would buy! But I came over.
In 1965, play was joking, joking and throwing stones on the cars on the highway, then the hell of life began school. But it went pretty well even though it was boring.
At the age of 14, I was rid of my swear by drinking a 16-year-old virgin under the table. She was actually unconscious when I pulled her pants and trousers, drove it in and sprinkled her full. Afterwards I dressed her again and dragged her back to the couch because she would not figure out what had happened. I never told this one, my friends thought I was still crazy when I was over 20. Actually, my first fuck was a big disappointment, it was more beautiful than bouncing but not as long as amazing as I imagined.
At the age of 14, I also started smoking cannabis, something I never told my classmates. I was not really the innocent mother's best schoolboy that everyone thought.
In 1973, when I was 15, I became a radio amateur. One of the first stations I got in touch with (via SSB, Single Side Band, ie using microphone and talking) was John, a dentist in Chicago. We talked out a little over four hours and agreed to see you again on the band. And now we have talked to the band (20 meters, 14 MHz, megahertz) once a week for 27 long years. Even though we never saw each other, not even on a photo, he's actually one of my closest friends. If you have something similar to a shortwave radio, you can hear us every Saturday at 18 GMT (19:00 Swedish winter time and 20 Swedish summer time) at 14.2 MHz (megahertz) or 14 200 kHz (kilohertz) on the 20metersband.
After the primary school (Torpaskolan for three years and Kålltorpsskolan for six years), I went technical for four years at the Polhems gymnasium. It was fun. Blast! The first two years slipped like an oiled soap, but in threes the drugs took over and the grades were raining. I was dealing with hash, amphetamines, LSD, cocaine and all I could get, and it's bad to plug.
The summer between two and three was me and Idiotmar Senil, also known as Mr. Usel Prostata von Skitbög, on the train slope. He was terribly stupid, but fortunately, I managed to get rid of him after six days when he was expelled from the hotel (Astor Student Club) in London after trying to rape a girl in the reception when about 20 or 30 stumbles stood watching The rest of the train air was fun.
Then, when I walked in, I was allowed to take over my grandparents' apartment on Hagforsgatan 23.
After school came lumpy, fan fuck such a damn hell! But I managed to survive it in a strange way.
We had fun at Hagforsgatan 23, me and the happy gang, who gathered in my apartment every evening and smoked troll tobacco, drank fly fungus and rubbed us mysterious pills from mysterious burglary in mysterious pharmacies. Life was crazy! I worked at Lillhagen and Sankt Jörgen and earned grass money or waffle it's now called one and another pipe, it was advisable. So I also took a lot of ironing work as a dishwasher at restaurants etc. But back in time again: The first fourteen years of my life I lived with my uncle Joseph, at the summer law or at least the majority of them because that's where I would rather be. He was farmer, so it was where I wanted to be, I helped, drove tractors, milked both goats and cows and that was fun. My parents had a boat in Lake Mjörn that we were often in when I was there, and we took a lot of time and started the stern snow and sailed over to Alingsås on the other side of the lake.
In 1982 I suffered an electric shock and got three thousand volts through my head and was in hospital (Östra, Sahlgrenska and Lillhagen) where I was in a wheelchair for six months.
Then I met Mari, a canine psychotic jubilee who always thought that the toilet followed her and bet her in the legs. Well, at all times, maybe it was a bit excessive, but it happened every time she forgot to take her schizophrenic medicine. I was married to the jubilee for two infinitely long years. It was often I was told her gall scream HELP! THE TOOLS OFFER! WHERE CAN I GIVE ME? But we had a lot of fun after all.
If that's something I've always liked, there are drugs, preferably as many different as possible and as fast as possible. The first time I smoked hasch was at Västra Långvatten at the age of 14, and two years later, on a train flight in the summer of 1976 at a music festival in London, I got a huge dose of LSD for the first time in my cross-country life. Then I've just come in to try as many different exciting exciting drugs as possible. I have tried, among other things, hash, amphetamine, opium, heroin, LSD, psilocybin, meskalin, peyote, teonanacatl, cath, banisterin, STP, DMT and lots of other things that you probably have not heard of. LSD, psilocybin, meskalin, peyote, teonanacatl, cath, banisterin, STP and DMT are hallucinogens in the form of various mystical plants, fungi, cacti, etc. I have also tried bolmört, spikklubba, Russian birch mushroom, red mushroom and all the other slightly more untraditional hallucinogens. But after the accident in 1982, which was officially due to being a cannonball but in reality due to a heavy dose of LSD, I have calmed down a little.
On June 10, 1982, I got married to the gun-psychotic jubilee Mari Fjellström. She was sick and never quite healthy, but we were damn fun anyway. Among other things, we smuggled nineteen kilos of cannabis into Sweden, first eight kilograms from Christiania, one kilo at a time, and later that year (1982) eleven kilos from Melkveg in Amsterdam, also one kilo at a time. Milky Way is not a road or street, but a multi media center with a hash shop, cinema, theater, cafeteria, restaurant, bowling, pool table, museum, library, disco and everything possible. It's huge, three floors, and you can easily have a whole day to go without being bored. The only thing that is taken is brothel, but apart from that, they simply have everything you could wish for here in life. Our hashsmuggleri gave us two months and nineteen trips a mild extra income of 625,000 good happy laundry, good fine and inexhaustible Swedish kronor net and cash straight over the counter without prank and protest, but we had a problem: We could not wait to show that we Had so much money when we could not explain at all where the money came from. For example, if we bought a house for half a million, how would we explain in the rose red glow of Hell, partly for authorities, and for friends, relatives and acquaintances, where did the money come from? I have no idea how to wash black money white. Is there a good deal of surf and a regular washing machine, or should you use a soap and washbasin? Can a dishwasher make any use? So we decided to simply have fun for the money. We had traveled Europe and Scandinavia for a long time and used the most expensive hotels, the best restaurants, and traveled by taxi almost everywhere and after a year the money was over. At that time we lived in Gårdsten. In 1984, Mari seriously became psychotic and disappeared to Lapland, and since then I have never seen her, I have no idea where she is or what she is doing now, but let's hope the idiot is locked in safe storage!
In March 1985, for my sake, I threw a twenty-two dose of LSD in the form of ten black pyramids, 150 microgram double-streaks instead of the usual 75 micrograms, ie 1500 micrograms in total. I would never have done that! Half an hour later I walked around with a hammer everywhere in the apartment and shattered everything I saw, after which I walked around and lit fire on the curtains. For one and a half years, from March 1985 to October 1986, I lay stuck in a belt at Lillhagen, shouting and screaming, and did not even know what I was called. At that time, I do not remember anything, and after that I put away everything except hay that I would never dream of quitting.
In time, I became increasingly tired of Sweden, and in 1987 I left paying the rent and started saving up to a starting capital I could need in Denmark, where I would rather live. On the fifth of May 1987 I took the boat to Frederikshavn to never return to the rude, unfortunate Prohibition, and on May 19th, in my absence, I was evicted from the apartment in Gårdsten.
My first month in Denmark I lived with a little insane bride in Fredrikshamn who was hysterical pedant and ran around with the vacuum cleaner at least three times a day.
After a month, I was so tired of her that I could spit, so I went on to Århus (under the nose of the cold-born man in Denmark) where I lived for five months in an occupied house.
We were 29 people, most younger than me, and we were both full and rocked from morning to evening and simply had a dump in every way.
October 1987, I managed to find somewhere to live, I was able to rent the entire attic, five large rooms of a total of one hundred square, of a farmer for only 800 a month. The house was built in 1907 and was thus eighty years old and largely flawless, it rained through the roof everywhere and it did not help complaining, and since it was only 190 centimeters to the ceiling and I'm 192 centimeters long I was allowed to walk all the time Bend a little on the head. But I was sad, it was damn big and only eight hundred a month. It was for Fan almost free!
The place I found to live with the farmer was at Old Århusvej 328 in Rindsholm, in the middle of the oak about ten kilometers south of Viborg, a 20,000 hole in the middle of Jutland, the western part of Denmark, and linked to Germany. It was old to decay when they were, but they also had plenty of space.
But, really, it was more like a zoo than an apartment, there were plenty of rats, mice, bats, ants, spiders, flies and everything a zoologist could wish for in Christmas. Everything except crocodiles, but crocodiles were also the only ones not included in the rent. Also, it was to chop and fire in the fireplace, at night when the fire went out, it became biting ice cold and you were freezing your ears from the joints. But I was pleased, it was great and it was for Fan in Seven Seven Hell Hell almost free to live there.
One of the first things I received was five adult female cats, Sonja, Vera, Lone, Dorte and Doris and suddenly the number of species in my indoor zoo or zoo was reduced a lot.
But then, the next ugly problem came asleep: Economy! It was so stupid that you could not get Swedish pensions overshadowed to Denmark for more than three months, and to get Danish pension you must have lived in Denmark for at least three long poor years. The assistance office (social agency) did not want me to do, they thought I could only go home to Sweden again if I wanted money. I was talking to a lawyer who explained that no-one may require cash assistance, it is the Assistance Office to assess if necessary. As a Swedish citizen in Denmark, according to the Inter-Scandinavian Transit Agreement of 1957, the same rights as a Danish citizen in Denmark have been granted, and these rules apply in Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Finland and Iceland, but that was not enough. It was up to the assistance office. But you have the right to stay for as long as you want and also to take employment (work), so I bet steadfastly. No bastard would force me back to Sweden again, I'd rather starve!
It was hard to find any job, so I bought oil paint and clothed for a thousand flaps and started painting paintings. The technique was as simple as genius, I had thousands of slides, so I started projecting a slide on the tablecloth and simply calming the image with a pencil on the table so that perspective and everything else became exactly right, and then I painted.
I managed to recover net 57,700 bucks in 1987 and 58,800 in 1988, it was enough to live off but I could not afford Fan to pay almost half of it in tax so in December 1988 I had a tax debt of 52,000 crowns. Fy Fan !!! And in December 1988, I finally managed to get the help of the art when they saw that I was stuck and they did not get rid of me again so easily they gave up and started giving me the sweet money. Only $ 1510 a month, but I bought a lot of black oil paint and guess what color it was on the paintings I painted ....
Suddenly I had two incomes and could survive a bit better.
Later I worked for a couple of months on the fish farm a stone's throw from where I lived and at a few different furniture factories, then I spent five months on Bornholm and dug down pipes for district heating.
On October 10, 1989, I was at the Inn in Viborg, where I met HENNE, Ulla Enevoldsen, a very beautiful girl with quite big feet and shoe number 41. She came to sit at my table, climbed my beard (she was Sure a little drunk), wrote down his address and phone number on a note and told me that if I was at home and was sad I would just walk home to her and she would have a cup of coffee. This was at half past two in the morning, and half a minute later, the place closed and we wandered each one. Twelve hours later, at half past two in the afternoon, I stood and knocked on her door. She was raising a lot of beer. She was a little shy and embarrassed at the beginning. I lay down my knees and sing love songs and romantic operas and kiss her feet for FIVE HOURS before I finally managed to persuade her to pillow the cool trousers. But then it was just the iron and the syringe, I stayed all night and fucked her yellow and blue. Damn it was just what I needed! I had to empty my youth's longing in her body.
Six weeks later, the first of December 1989, we married the town hall in Viborg. In January 1990 she got an apartment in Overlund, here we live now, and in December 1992 I got an apartment in the house next to just 25 meters from Ulla.
We live in Houlkärvänget, a suburbs in the periphery with 16 cement houses and 36 apartments in each (three-storey) house.
I am like everyone - especially the folk-minded neighbors who stubbornly complain that they can never watch TV because of all the disturbances of my radio station - know the active radio amateur, and in December 1992, when I was moving in here we had a Russian Family visiting, a friend in Moscow whom I used to talk to in the radio and his wife and his eight-year-old daughter.
If you heard all that he told me about the communist era in Russia, you would probably start to cold sweat and sleep badly at night. Throughout the 70-80 and early 1990s, there had been a catastrophic trade war everywhere in Russia, the only thing there was plenty of was money and nothing was ransonated. Everyone had a lot of money, many annual wages in both pockets and chest of drawers because, because of the Varubristen, it was totally impossible to end more than a tenth of his salary. There were always several hundred feet of queues outside the empty shops that were just waiting for one or another to come. And when it came to goods, there were always several tons of one and the same product, for example many tons of apples and nothing else, or several tons of bread or several tonnes of milk or several tons of cheese or flour or soap or ..... and When it came to something, all those who stood in the queue were asleep as much as they could not carry the product. And when you came home with, for example, thirty kilos of apples, you sat down at the phone, ringed around and traded. Money lacked all the value in the black market because it was something everyone had plenty of, one was referred to as a barter. For example, if you had apples, you could switch to milk and bread, etc.
We, I and Ulla, both have two retirement and we each have a square of 125 square, so we have a total of 250 square meters to fight. We are both of the two that we collect at all, especially antiques. I have 71 grandfather radios, many of them from the 1930s, eight old black and white TVs, 1400 CDs, 22,000 slides, 70 shelves of books, 320 video tapes, lots of DVDs, four computers, shortwave radios and lots of mixed Antiques and Ulla are alike, so despite the fact that we have plenty of space, it's simply crowded. The only thing we do not have is money, money is something we only have just the day the pension has come. Most of the time goes with smoking, drinking coffee and listening to Radio Luxemburg. No, Radio Luxemburg has not, as many think, stopped sending up, but on January 1, 1993, it went on to broadcast in German around the clock.
THE LITTLE HISTORY BOOK PART TWO PRINTED IN TARIFA, CADIZ, ANDALUSIA, SOUTHERN SPAIN, IN JULY 2006.
On August 21, 2000, my wife Ulla suffered from a blood clot in her brain, which meant that she could practically no longer go and that the headquarters of the brain, the wisdom and intelligence had seriously damaged me - and I had to care for an invalid for four Long years. And because of a certain financial crisis as a result, I ended up in the street and she in a service house in March of 2004. Getting a new home in Europe today may well be regarded as physical impossibility, so I have been homeless in two Year and a few months.
The first thing I did was to return to my hometown of Gothenburg, and literally, I was literally close to freezing because Sweden really does not have any kind of help for the homeless, at all, the rights that exist only on paper and without housing In Sweden, literally speaking, you will freeze and starve to death - which thousands of homeless Swedes actually do every year. And if a homeless person tries to beg, people think that it is an addict and that he has the opportunity to get help from society, but in reality, far over ninety percent of all homeless people have never had an abuse problem and not one percent of them have any The opportunity to get a penny of society.
Swedish government simply has no money - just a huge foreign debt. So I had to realize that I - a better escape than to die. It would be nice if the Swedish government could launch a major information campaign which openly and honestly tell people that most homeless people have become homeless because of politicians' unlimited idiocy and literally freeze and starve to death if they do not get help from kind individuals, play mentally ill and are admitted to a psychiatric hospital or choose to become criminals to get hold of the three or four thousand a day that it costs to eat at a restaurant, go to the public toilets, wash their clothes, ringing telephones that eat up a hundred crowns calling cards in a matter of seconds to get into the hotel that cost at least two thousand per person or - if you are lucky enough to cod there - saving lives by becoming sanction a lengthy sentence. Of course, I chose to escape.
To make a long story short, I've been on these places the time I was homeless .......
1 Denmark (including Viborg-Randers Frederikshavn)
2 International Water
3 Sweden (including Gothenburg, Alingsås, Vårgårda, Alvesta, Nässjö, Mjölby, Stockholm, Gävle, Soderhamn, Sundsvall, Umeå, Luleå, Kiruna, Abisko, Gällivare, Malmberget, Vasteras, Orebro, Karlstad, Charlottenberg, Malmo)
4 Finland (including Helsinki, Imatra, Joensuu, Kolari, Chemistry , Rouanemi, Kemijärvi)
5 Russia (including Svetogorsk, Alfogorsk, kovdor, Kirovsk, Tajbola, Mikkelornskij)
6 Norway (including Bodo, Narvik, Trondheim, Kongsvinger, Oslo, Kautokeino Kjøllefjord, Varanger, Alta, North Cape, Halden, Frederikstad , Bergen, Stavanger)
7 Morokulien (Sweden and Norway)
8 Christiania (sanctuary in Copenhagen)
9 Germany (including Flensburg, Bordesholm, Ludwigslust, Berlin, East Berlin, Hamburg, Dresden, Frankfurt, Munich)
10 Austria (including Vienna, Innsbrü ck, Linz)
11 Switzerland (including Bern and Geneva)
12 Italy (including Rome, Termoli, Pisa, San Remo, Bologna, Verona, Tivoli, Cassino Montecassino)
13 Vatican (Catholic hash state in Rome)
14 San Marino (tiny country in the middle of Italy)
15 Sicily (actually no country but a region with some devolution). it Rome or mafia who have the most power?)
17 Greece (including Athens)
18 Turkey (including Istanbul, Ankara, Usnar)
19 Poland (including Warsaw, Krakow, Gdansk)
20 Netherlands (including Amsterdam, Rotterdam , Wilting, Groningen, Assen)
21 Belgium (including Antwerp, Brussel, Waterloo)
23 France (including Paris, Arles, Marseille, Toulose, Dax, Bayonne)
24 Monaco (hash country in France at the coast near Italy)
25 Monte Carlo (although it is a tiny country in France on the coast near Italy)
26 Andorra (tiny country between France and Spain)
27 Liechtenstein (tiny country between Austria and Switzerland)
28 England (London). Damn! Only Eurotunnel back and forth.)
29 Spain (including Madrid, San Sebastian, Monforte de Lemos, Valladolid, Barcelona, Irun, Seville, Granada, Zaragoza, Motril, Malaga, Algeciras, Tarifa)
30 Portugal (including Lisbon, Faro and Lagos)
31 Basque Country which of course should never have belonged to Spain (including Bilbao and Santander)
32 Morocco (including Tangier, Tetouan, Chefchaouen, Chaouen, Jadidchaouen, Bouarfa, Casablanca, Fez, Meknes, Rabat, Agadir)
33 Algeria (among another Merenina and Menia)
34 Gibraltar (what the hell are these damned British Blockheads center in Spain?)
35 Livia (a tiny country east of Andorra, between France and Spain)
36 Western Sahara (only sand)
37 Mauritania (even more sand and sand in long courses)
Total 37 countries and more than 860 cities.
It's incredibly easy to find a job in today's Europe, but everywhere it is almost impossible to find housing - not even a tram, a bicycle rack or a shoebox can get hold of when it's minus ten and snowstorm. So it would be wise to go south - and as far south as possible. There will usually be warmer in Africa or southern Spain than in northern Sweden, Iceland or Greenland. And right now I am in Tarifa, the southernmost in Spain, and this is never below zero in winter.
The easiest way to come indoors when it's freezing cold is actually standing in the road, waving your thumb and hitch a ride all the time. And of course, make sure that you get further and further south. And if you're lucky, maybe the driver is bussig and brings some coffee, sandwiches and cigarettes. If you stay in one place in northern Europe, but housing can be literally over, but as long as it lifts all the time - the next day the next city, the next day the next city, the next day the next city, the next day the next city, the next day the next city, and so on - an eternal hopeless journey without end - so do you survive at least. And now I therefore so far south that I am not likely to freeze or starve to death, for the farther south you go, the warmer it is, the cheaper the food, the friendly population is, the lower the crime rate and the less difficult is the cop on man quarts outdoors or in a staircase.
And now I'm doing my best to find jobs and housing in the wonderful sunny Tarifa.
LITTLE HISTORY PART THREE CORRECT Viborg in Denmark in 2007 and 2008.
In May 2007, it became too hot in Spain - a winter in Spain's kind of like a summer in Denmark, but summer in Spain is horrible. It comes alive fried. So I hitchhiked from Spain back to Denmark - it took just a month and it was a magnificent experience.
Nowadays, I have an apartment in Rødkærsbro in Denmark (November 2007) and are seriously considering becoming migratory bird - rent an apartment in Casablanca and spend the summer in Denmark and winter in Casablanca.
I'm very happy in Rødkærsbro, a small village with a thousand inhabitants, and now I fill half century - I'm halfway to my hundredth birthday!
Rødkærsbro is a small peasant den with a thousand inhabitants and lambs and sheep graze just outside the house. Much better than the big city!
I have a five-minute walk to the train, and eight minutes by train, 22 km, Viborg, Denmark's old capital, with about twenty thousand inhabitants.
And when you been homeless for four years, so it's really nice to have somewhere to live again!
On 29 October 2008 Ulla Enevoldsen died of a brain hemorrhage. She was 70 years, 4 months and 4 days. Peace to her memory.
The last few years I lived on the East 8 in Rødkærsbro. I bet the time to death by train trips, fishing trips and books - and by painting. I've had a few different women, married or common-law marriage for Ulla's funeral, but nowadays I'm single again.
Have been traveling a lot - here comes the list of countries:
30 San Marino
35 Great Britain
37 Czech Republic
45 International water
53 Western Sahara
57 New Zealand
Lately, I have included the on Anholt, Gotland, on the inter-rail through Europe and on hikes in the Danish countryside.
I'm very happy in Rødkærsbro, enjoying my comfortable retired life and make the whole as little as possible.
There is nothing better than a train ride and a fishing - or a good book if the weather gods have conspired together.
(Wrote Sunday, August 7th in 2011)
PART FOUR, Wrote in NOREG - NORWAY Sunday, February 24, 2013.
In my life I have been married to
1 Else-Mari in Gothenburg - it was two years
2 Anita i Danmark - two months
3 Ulla Denmark - it held for twenty years
4 Korsdar Marsdar Casablanca - two weeks
5 Mariann i Danmark - two weeks
6 Tilo from Buenos Aires - the was a year
7 acid from Iceland - which got the wrong side of the highway
8 Ray from Iceland - which just vanished home to mom again
Last year in Santiago do Cacem Portugal I asked Silva for a cigarette - and suddenly I was entangled in my NINTH marriage, which I - oddly enough - not regret.
We live in Norway, Storgata 117, 2, 9008 Tromsø, but we also have apartments on the East 8 in Rødkærsbro in Denmark, and in the Ermidas 228 in Santiago C Portugal - plus a café - pigge AND GNIDDE on Fylkevej 3, 4280 Skatval - one mil north of Trondheim in Norway.
We are very happy, aurora borealis lights up the path of life - and the time we beat to death by painting pictures!
WRITTEN in 2013 February 24, Sunday.
NEW HISTORY PART FIVE written in Santiago, PEACE AND emigration ANNO 2015:
When my ninth wife drunk away all their brain cells and drowned in a large bottle of vodka, so I did the only thing straight - I brought me the bottle to the post office, stamps pasted on the bottle and sent home bitch hell returned to his mother in Vale de Vodka west of Satantiago do Alcohol Portugallinesien.
Again, I was alone and single - and in a fortnight I learned to jerk off by using the natural method.
And then I was married to my right hand.
Lately I have been killed by fishing, painting pictures - and to be out and travel a lot.
And over time, I've grown tired more and more miserable old Denmark and started to look around for a better place to settle down.
And it seems that I have found a real paradise.
Portugal has a lot of that ogre of Europe not seen in decades - storks, swallows, woodpeckers, whooper swan, lakes with lots of fish, and authentic virgin forests that look like forests of Sweden did when I was a year old and two inches high .
Absolutely the most beautiful country - a real paradise for nature lovers and anglers like me!
The weather is like in California or Nevada, and the food is incredibly cheap and good.
And so I - amazingly enough - find a modern and beautiful apartment on Avenida Santiago 12 in Santo Andre i Santiago - a large, modern apartment that is so cheap that it is almost free - twice as big as my apartment in Denmark, and just half as expensive.
I almost think I'm dreaming - such
Here I come - by about a thousand percent guarantee - to stay until I'm 99 and a half years and can not climb stairs anymore!
Never, never, never again !!!
Portugal - I love you - you are God's answer to my prayers !!!!
It's almost like you become religious and begin to believe in the gods when you find yourself in such a wonderful country - than living the old gods and angels!
Here I do not have to be molested by tjötiga drunkards, here I will not have to become a dog bitten by stray rabid dogs, here I do not have the stench of millions of pigs when farmers spread manure on the fields, here I do not have to be frozen in a blizzard when I stand outside and waiting for the train that is several hours late, here I will not have to slip and break the bones of me in the winter, here I will not have to get icicles straight down on the head when I walk on the sidewalk, here I do not have the world's highest taxes, the world's thickest book of the law, the world worst and most expensive bureaucracy, here I do not have four months of rain and eight months snowstorms every year, here I do not have twenty-five weeks of perpetual darkness in winter, here I do not have anything that is so typically Swedish or Scandinavian that Scandinavia has the world's largest number of depressions per capita and the world most jet-black suicide statistics.
Why live there really people in Scandinavia?
How can these poor helpless people really stand out in this frigid, windswept, bureaucratic, mercury poisoned hell?
But - of course - actually, it's probably no one who can stand to live there - people are probably just as jaded and depressed that they simply can not be bothered to move from there?
And why I have not moved away already at the Old Gorm time - it remains a mystery ....
No - now I have to immediately rush out into nature and go fishing!
If you give a man a fish, he has a meal.
If you teach a man to fish and he comes to fish - every day - the rest of his life.
And it is actually so true as it is said.
FISHING IS HIGHLY ADDICTIVE!
NEVER GO FISHING!
FISHING PICTURES TO TO FISH IN THE LAKE die prematurely!
Your doctor or pharmacist can help you to stop to fish!
Happy long-bearded pipe smoker in Santiago.
(thanks for the day, the end of the day - this was written in 2015 February 21 Saturday in Santiago)
EVEN NEWER HISTORY PART SIX written in Rødkærsbro 2016 February 22 Monday:
After four months, with well over forty degrees in the shade, I stood simply not stand to be in southern Europe anymore - I was living fried!
Deja vu - the same thing has happened before when I lived in Morocco, Spain or Portugal.
In winter it is wonderful to go to Spain or Portugal - it's like a midsummer in Sweden!
But when summer comes is not out.
Actually, there is of course no country that has nice weather all year round.
In Northern Europe freeze to death in winter.
In southern Europe, will be fried alive in summer.
And in England, Germany and France consists winter six months eternal downpour.
So my plans for the future - it is to shop around and make sure I'm in Denmark in the summer and in Portugal in the winter.
Wish me luck - I've got a raw deal!
Pensive Swedish, Denmark, on Monday, 22 February 2016