My boyfriend’s been away in Finland all week and I’ve been on my lonesome at home. You know what, I have to stop calling him “my boyfriend”. Much like you and I and that cute puppy I wanted to kidnap today, he has a name. His name is Panu. Equal emphasis on both syllables ~ Pah-noo, not P’noo, like so many people insist.
Panu and I, we are quite the opposites. He’s tall, I’m a midget. He’s… not really quiet, but I make a lot of noise. He likes rock, I like breaks. He’s a sci-fi fan (yuck), I like everything but. He loathes karaoke, and me… *coughmikehogcough*. And he’s healthy and well, I eat a lot.
But what keeps us together is that secretly, under his crazy health-nut exterior, Panu also loves to eat. Oh, and we also really like each other.
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Last weekend saw me pack my little red suitcase for what was to be a hectic weekend: flight out to Stockholm late Friday night, a day in Stockholm, cruise to Helsinki overnight on the Silja Line, and a day in Helsinki, then back in the London gloom. It was my first time in Stockholm, but I’d been to Helsinki before, because that’s my boyfriend’s home town. Well, kinda. He’s Finnish-Australian, like I’m Malaysian-Chinese-Australian, which is a bit of a mouthful but eeek, imagine if we had kids? Finnish-Malaysian-Chinese-Australian? Wait a minute, did I say kids? Phwoarr… what a brain fart! I totally hope that he doesn’t actually read this blog!
Anyhoos, diversion. Food. Though we only spent a day here and a day there (and half the meal potentials were wasted on the cruise buffet), I can solemnly say that on this trip, I had the best meatballs I’ve ever had. Ever. And this time, I’m really not exaggerating.
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what’s talkin?