Travel Mistake #1: Beware the 'mjolk'.

Faced with the traditional array of choices of milk at the grocery store, I waited to see which was most popular. There was only two of the green "AB" left, and a crafty old lady took the second-last carton. Being what I thought was a 'quick thinker', I figured I'd best snag the last one.

Upon arriving home, I was dismayed by the smell coming out...plus the contents were thicker than sour cream. What had this lady bought?

Josh confirmed they sell 'sour milk' here.
I told him, with pride, that I got the last carton.
I am now off, tail between legs, to find a decent place to dispose of it. Too thick to pour down the drain.

Interesting cultural note: they put names on doors here. Every resident is listed. My official landlord is 'Siggy Sigurdsson'. "No paperwork", he said. "No problem," I responded.

Within minutes of arriving at the house, my name was placed below Josh's. Perhaps there's some archaic rule about having everyone listed?

This, for the record, is the milk I should have bought.