Dear Julie, David, and Ted,

We have a day off in Stockholm, and are taking advantage of our gracious hosts’ sunny living room and wifi to catch up a little on internet tasks.

In Hamburg, we learned seven different ways to say “ham,” and played a really fun show to an enthusiastic and dancey crowd. At the merch table, I found myself unable to stop talking once I got started, but everyone was friendly, even the guy who complained that we don’t have any “happy songs.”

The trip to Stockholm involved a one hour flight and several hours of bus rides through the German and Swedish countrysides, along with a few belligerent drunks yelling at me in a sort of French-Czech-German mashup from the seat behind. In Stockholm, after a delicious meal of vegetarian lasagna and a reunion with our new york friend Emily Roysdon, we regaled the attentive crowd with wrong chords, mixed-up lyrics, and a slow, slow slow jam. Somehow, on day two, I already have developed a quite distinctive b.o. — Greg likens it to “onion salad.” We talked to lots of people, all of whom were named Helena or Mattias. We got lost on the cab ride back, and wound up abandoned with our suitcases in the middle of a scene straight out of Let The Right One In. Luckily, we finally made our way to the apartment without incident, and I’m hoping the onion odor is close enough to garlic to keep us safe.

Love,
Craig