The further misadventures of Goran Wallen

I didn't think I would have enough material to write a second post on our story's antagonist and certainly not this soon. However, the past 24 hours' events have changed things. When Goran (GW) borrowed the van we're traveling in from a friend, he was told explicitly to remain aware of the water level. To check it often and fill it when necessary. As usual, that caution went in one ear and out the other.

On our way to the ferry last night, GW remarked candidly that the car was overheating. Rather, he said "the car is boiling." Instead of stopping and checking the water, he insisted on continuing until we were safely inside the ferry. We arrived finally after a grand series of starting the car, getting up to 15 and turning it back off, coasting to a stop, despite repeated pleas not to. So, this morning I put a full half-gallon of water in the van and insisted that we find a mechanic to make sure a lack of water was the only issue and that it will last us through the Finnish countryside today and all the way to Norway later this week. Instead, he hopped on the freeway.

After explaining to him that if we overheat in the middle of nowhere, he's going to have some trouble finding Theresa and I transport to the venue with all the gear while he waits with the van to get it fixed, he decided to get it looked at. I'm positive that at one point in time this man did have a job but I'm not sure what kind and I can only speculate as to the seemingly obvious simplicity it must have entailed. There's no way logic and critical thinking were involved in his daily work routine.

I nearly forgot: on the ferry there was a karaoke bar. Said karaoke bar was in full swing when I stumbled upon it and my eyes didn't believe my ears when I rounded the corner. There, in full glory, was a 350lb Finnish biker complete with black doo-rag, long beard, huge gut (contained by a black t-shirt with demonic imagery) singing Elvis' "Can't Help Falling In Love" and singing it well. He was as serious as the heart attack that is sure to one day befall him. His whole chubby, dressed-in-black, biker family was into it too. Soon after he was finished, a young Swedish couple got up to sing "I've Had the Time of My Life" from Dirty Dancing. I figured the guy was roped in by his Patrick Swayze loving girlfriend, but he was into, man. Karaoke on the Baltic Sea is serious business.

Anyway, back to GW. Upon arriving in Porin (where the venue was), he took a left turn from the right lane because he thought it was a two way street. That was near death experience #1. Between near death experience #1 and 2, we (Theresa and I) discovered that a) the 4pm show we were supposed to have was actually the next day and we had to cancel it, b) our hotel rooms were cancelled and then rebooked, and c) were being led around aimlessly because he didn't want to bother the festival promoter with directions. Anyway, we had a show at midnight that went well and then left at 5am to get back to the ferry. Near death experience #2 was when he stalled out in the middle of an intersection (which is pretty much just a giant yield sign) while pointing to a sight instead of driving. This leg of the tour is pretty much Bad News Bears, it's a wonder we succeed at all.

Pori, Finland is a beautiful small town apparently much further north than Stockholm judging by how high the sun was in the sky at 10pm. I thought it would never set. One last thought: the artist passes we got for the Pori Jazz Festival are totally bitchin.