came the text. He was, of course, referring to the crayfish party that I managed to snap out of my antisocial funk long enough to attend. Crayfish parties are a very Swedish celebration of life/the end of summer/alcohol. They involve games, drinking, and decorations resembling Chinese new year’s lights. Oh, and crayfish. Which are like lobsters in their color, shape, and beady angry boiled alive eyes; but unlike lobsters in their size and willingness to provide accessible meat.
I’ve pulled some quotes from Wikipedia for you:
“It is culturally correct to suck the juice out of the crayfish before shelling it.”
“The alcohol consumption is often high, especially when compared to the amount of food actually eaten (crayfish shelling is tedious work).”
Due to my rather temperate drinking, I possibly missed the entire point of a crayfish party (getting plastered), but I still had a good time.
Here is a photo I took of my first little buddy. I refrained from naming him because…well you know.