Uppsala Curiosities Part II: The Gasque or: Light Refreshments were served *

* This time in English.

Yesterday we had a Gasque. Now you will ask yourself: What is a Gasque? The short version: It’s all about drinking. The long version: It’s a formal dinner, organized by a Student Nation, which all in all takes about four hours due to several speeches by Nation’s representatives. During a Gasque the formal course of the evening determines when to drink what, often in combination with collectively belt out drinking songs, most of them in Swedish. Also important is the dress code - evening dress, which however couldn’t hinder me to wear Jeans, before you accuse me of blasphemy let me tell you: in combination with a nice shirt plus tie and blazer. Anyway, let’s get down to business.

First exercise of the night is a photo session at Uppsala Castle. - Which is not as easy as you might think due to a group combination of three dressed up girls and five more or less dressed up boys. The girls have to discuss how to arrange the handbag or from which perspective the fresh curled hair looks best while the boys start a penetrative examination about even more important questions: Is it possible to photograph the group in front of the Botanical Garden, although that would be a picture against the sun? Could this problem be solved by the use of a double-flashlight? And for that matter: Are four megapixels still enough or does even a hobby photographer need 8.1 at least?

After several hours, no, OK, after half an hour, we arrive at Stockholm’s Student Nation, right next to Uppsala Cathedral. To express it sophisticated: Light refreshments are served in the Nation’s lovely garden. To be honest: We start drinking. It’s a glass of sparkling wine. After that it gets difficult: We have to find our seats. Of course you cannot just sit wherever you want during a Gasque. People are arranged in boy-girl couples, so every boy is allocated with his official lady for the evening, or, of course dear girls, every lady is provided with a gentleman for the evening. Since yesterday’s Gasque was an international one I am sitting together with a girl from Berlin (“my lady”), a girl from Finland and a guy from Australia. The latter certainly has an intuition for historical moments: He travelled to Germany during the Soccer World Cup, so he welcomes me at the table with a yelled out: “Deutschlaaaaaaaand, Deutschlaaaaaaand, Schlaaaaaaand, Schlaaaaaaaand!”

Before we start eating a schnapps is served. Strange, because down at the continent, as we Scandinavians say, I learned that you should better drink the high percentage-stuff after dinner. However, after a Swedish drinking song which I can’t remember anymore, we do the traditional cheers-ceremony and drink. The traditional cheers-ceremony is: You first say cheers to the lady on your right side, than to the girl on the left and than to the boy adverse. Finally your are allowed to drink. After a crayfish-creme as the starter we first get a beer, than have to drink some singing songs (no, the other way round, I still feel yesterday’s impact) and then get a glass of wine. Luckily I am able to convince my lady to drink my wine and instead give me the bottle of Carlsberg she still has left. As the main course we have a steak together with grönsaker (no idea what “Gemüse” is in English, so I used the Swedish word) and potatoes. It’s a bit a hard job to really get enough, because our table’s pott of potatoes leaves us with a narrow margin. Although this might also just be due to my fucking gluttony, I am able to convince my lady to donate the big backed mushroom she gets served as a vegetarian but obviously doesn’t like that much. In between the student’s choir and a Swedish folkmusic-band provide some entertainment.

Guess what came afterwards: Yeah, a sincking drong and another Cognac. The dinner ends with a coffee, a cake and, of course, another of those liquids you better should not serve your underage sister, this time a really really disgusting punch.

You think the night ended with the dinner? Haha, of course there was the after-party. So I first meet Matthias and Felix at the bar. After all the stress we decide to have a good cold Heineken. The night’s further progression is up to your imagination, just that much: I was in bed at 4:30.
So what did we learn yesterday? Probably the rumour that the real Swede, strong as a Jeep Cherokee, never drinks just to enjoy one or two beers together with a friend, but only drinks to really get drunken, is not just a rumour. However, that also means: It wasn’t our fault yesterday. We had to do it. It’s a fucking part of the culture.

Like it’s the last night on earth,
cfö.

P.S.: This is Kazu just having finished the dinner (looks wasted, ha?).