An American in Sweden

An answer to Elamb's question, and scroll down, I've done some backposting on Oslo

2007-12-10T15:33:00.000+01:00

Elamb asked me: Sweden is on of the few places I've considered moving to. How is the racial climate? How do they feel about black people? I heard that there is actual FREEDOM there... is that true?

Now, keep in mind that this is only a semester's worth of impressions, and I'm generalizing, which automatically means that for someone I am wrong, but I'll go out on a limb and write some of my impressions up here.

The Racial Climate is interesting, from what I've heard and read about. Remember, this is only one person's observations though.

Sweden is of two minds. You have the political mind, which embraces multiculturalism and works hard toward helping immigrants get used to Sweden. The majority of people are a different matter. Until recently, (within the last 60 years) Sweden has been racially and ethnically homogeneous. Oh, you have some immigration and people adopting, but for the most part, Sweden has been blonde people. However, that has been changing, and it creates tension in the cities between "Racial Swedes," "Ethnic Swedes" and "Immigrants." Often in schools, children who are Swedish Citizens, but don't have Swedish names or look Swedish, will be asked where they come from. There is a political party that has been gaining headway in Sweden that calls for a stop or severe restrictions to Immigration. Swedes for the first time are having to deal with the fact that their country is becoming Multicultural, and they are struggling. Not so much as places like, France for instance, but still.

As for Freedom, Sweden has a very different view of it than America, which was quite a surprise to me. While in America Freedom is thought of as the ability to do what you want as long as you don't break laws, in Sweden Freedom is more thought of as the Government enabling you to not have the disadvantages that would prevent you from having your freedom. Two very different views.

I've heard Swedes complain that Sweden isn't very free- the prices are really high for everything, housing in cities is a nightmare, and taxes are high. But, that's because wages are generally high in Sweden, housing is kept down and affordable by the government, and the government provides a host of benefits that Americans can't even conceptualize (free meals in schools? Monthly pensions for children? Free medical care for all children until their 18? Paid sick leave after the first day? The list goes on...)

Keep in mind also that Sweden's government also takes a very active role in the family... insuring that parents aren't messing up their children too much. Sex ed is mandatory and really explicit from a very early age- so if you believe that third graders shouldn't know the ins and outs of sex, sorry. Children are encouraged by schools to think independently from their parents. This upsets some very religious people who feel these things should be left up to the family.

From an American point of view it sometimes unnerves me how involved the government is in people's lives. So, I didn't really answer your question Elamb, but I hope I provided some insight. If you would like to know more, I just took a public policy course on Sweden,a dn I know where you can get some really interesting, informative information.

Now that you've read all this serious stuff, scroll down and read about my adventures in Oslo!

2007-12-04T19:41:00.000+01:00

Ok, so I know I haven't been around much, but that's mostly because I forgot what my password was, and then I got sick and a whole bunch of things happened.

But I'm going to be doing some serious backpostage.

Soon.

Old Man Encounter, #4

2007-11-11T17:34:00.000+01:00

There's more I need to blog about, but for now, I'll share this brief story.

For those of you who aren't aware, I have this sign that only old men can see, that tells them that I'm a good person to approach and compliment and generally talk to. And because I'm a smuck, I generally let them talk to me (some strange thing about respecting your elders and all that, even if they are are crazy).

Since coming to Sweden I've had three old men encounters.

Now, I would like to add a fourth, that happened while I was in Oslo.

So on Friday I'm walking down Main Street in Oslo (a wonderfully touristy place that is a pedestrian street) and I stop at a light and suddenly I feel a hand on my arm. I jump, turn and some older man is speaking to me in Norwegian (which is close enough to Swedish that it sounds familiar, but not close enough that I can understand anything he is saying.) Throughly startled, I respond, "Lo siento, Ya talar bara lite Swedish," managing in one sentence to mangle three languages.

The man gave a long slow blink (I'm fairly certain he thought I was a native- at least, I didn't have a map out), and asked, in English, "Where are you from?" I have to say, I think I throughly disarmed him. "The States" I reply, as I realize what I had just done. (again, showing how mixed up I've become, Americans don't call the States the States, only English speakers not from American do that)

Well, he recovers. "I want to give you a compliment."

Me: "Ok."

Him: "I'm not trying to be a... scary man, but you have a... nice... a good way of walking. I noticed as you were walking."

Me: *wonders* Does that mean he was looking at my butt? "Uhhh, thank you."

And then the light changed, and I hurried off.

I don't know if it's just a cultural thing, and an older generation of European Males have it hard wired into their systems to give women compliments, because I haven't noticed younger men doing this. I can't just write them off as creepy old men, because this one, similar to the others except for Crochet man, seemed sane and, well, rather charming in the way that only old men can be. But it does provide a sense of amusement, and I have to say, the rest of the day I was more aware of how I walked.

I suppose, when it all comes down to it, the whole thing makes me smile.

In Oslo, Norway, Day 2.5 (AKA: OMG BACKPOSTAGE BECAUSE I WAS LAZY)

2007-11-10T14:47:00.001+01:00

So I went to a museum in the fort that was on Norway's resistance when they were taken over by Germany. The most striking thing about it? A wall of guns. I don't know why it was there (the explanation was in Norwegian) but when I saw it I thought of a certain someone who would appreciate it.
*coughMichaelcough*
It was kinda scary to behold.

After the Museum, I went across the street to the City hall. I really liked the statue out front... The Swans are so pretty, and in a strange way, romantic.
At least I think so. I think I'm going to play with this picture ot see if I can get rid of the buildings, so you just see the swans against the blue sky.
The inside of city hall. It was actually kinda funky decor, but I liked it. Very impressive in the way that you could kinda tell they wanted to intimidate you. I think I accidentally snuck in, there wasn't a person at the desk so I just walked in and followed behind a tour. I think I went to some places I wasn't supposed to go, but if you walk like you know like you're going somewhere, and you hung your coat up before you got in so it isn't obvious you're a tourist, and your camera bag kinda looks like a purse, well, nobody stopped me. A lot of my pictures didn't turn out so well though.
But this was my favorite room. It was a beach scene, with NAKED PEOPLE. YEY! I love Scandinavian sensibilities about Saunas, nudity and HEY HERE I AM NAKED.
Ok, next to the Tiger's Balls, I loved this. See what the little boy is doing? *giggles*

On a much more serious note... notice all the people in the painting are Blonde. Norway is so ethnically homogeneous.
More imposingness- but look at the medallion above the door with the horsie!
Swans! They were all over the place, and they never told us in English WHY. I wanted to ask, but I wasn't REALLY part of the tour.
Seen through a window while wandering around an open air market.

The great thing about Oslo, is if you have a map it's really hard to get lost. The Main street runs the length of the main part of the city, and almost impossible to get lost. This is good for me, because I decided to be adventurous and go to an outdoor market in a part of the city that wasn't as touristy. It was a lot of fun, but I wasn't quite comfortable taking a lot of pictures, because there were a lot of ethnic people there and I didn't want to seem rude.
Duckies!
And this guy was just hanging out on the street made up of... I think computer parts. Or odds and ends. It doesn't really matter other then he was REALLY COOL. And he has a tail. And a staff. And ARMOUR. Coolness.

And that was my second day in Oslo

In Oslo, Norway, Day 2 (AKA: OMG BACKPOSTAGE BECAUSE I WAS LAZY)

2007-11-10T14:08:00.000+01:00

So on my second day in Oslo it was beautiful out, if cold. I decided to go walking to my destination (Main Street) a slightly different way, and I happened to come across this guy.

"Tyger Tyger burning bright, in the forests of the night...." except, not.
GRRRR! Oh look, you can kinda see it here, but his tail is all shiny while the rest of him is rather dark in color. That's because (as I discovered) his tail is really comfy to sit on. And attempting to climb on him is A LOT OF FUN.
His nose is also just a little shiny, from having people rub it. Now, you might ask why I'm calling this Tiger a guy. HE COULD BE A GIRL! (In fact, I thought of him as a girl until I sat on his tail and noticed this:
*Insert profuse snickering and me nearly falling off of the tail in surprise* AHHH! GINORMOUS BALLS. He's going to make his girlfriend happy.
I couldn't reisist a picture of him, even if my arm wasn't long enough to get us both fully in the picture. THIS GUY was HUGE!!!

I then proceeded to go visit Oslo's REALLY COOL FORT. Now it serves as a University for Norway's military type people, but it was sooo cool to wander around in. I took lots of pictures. (Hey, at least I'm consistent!)

But before I got there I had to stop and take a look at some stuff.Like this guy dressed up to be Mozart playing the... I actually have no clue what it is, but it was really cool. The next day there was a big game in the city, and he dressed up half and half- one half for each team. The street bussers in Oslo are so much more entertaining!
Tehehehehehe. There are lions all over the city, but this was one of my most favorite statues.

I came across this store while walking down to the fort, which specialized in really beautiful, handmade traditional Nordic clothing. SEE? (Look down)
The view from the fort walls of Oslo's harbor... or part of it. Oslo has lots of harbors.
View of City Hall (to be talked about later.)
A building in the fort. REALLY COOL!
LOOK AT THE WALLS! THEY'RE MASSIVE!
Another view of the harbor. It was beautiful.

A view of the cool house, the big walls, and a strange statue.

Cannons! Who doesn't like cannons? And it's so pretty!
This Church is the oldest building in Oslo, and was what the fort was built around. Because churches are just that cool. And pretty.
Me with a Cannon! *Grins*
Cool doorway that drops down 30 feet.
See? I was looking off rom the top of that tower on the other side!

So now, because this post is really long and we've only just gotten through the first half of the day, I shall post this and work on the second half of the day.

I'm gloating just a little...

2007-11-09T18:17:00.000+01:00

Some stats about my blog, from Google Analytics:

I've had visitors from 26 states.
I've had visitors from 35 countries.
I've had 496 visits, 860 pageviews, and 200 individual visitors (the stat that prompted this).

And how have people found my blog? 24.6% is Direct Traffic, 63.71% is referring sites, 11.69% is search engines.

I love looking at the different search combinations that pop up. Some of my favorites:

fika swedish
what to do when an old man in sweden approaches you on the subway
how to speak swedish "får får får"
http://anamericaninsweden.blogspot.com/ (someone searched for my blog directly)
pancakes and where they first came from
swedish male mannerisms
things i miss from america
you make me happy in swedish?
worm coming out fingernail (what would make you search for this?!?)

And I can't seem to figure out how to get rid of the links, so you're just going to have to deal.

In Oslo, Norway, Day 1 (AKA: The post that takes forever to load)

2007-11-09T09:11:00.000+01:00

So I decided I was going to head over to the palace, and see what it was like, and then from there perhaps check out a museum or something. I have to say, for so little planning, things went really well!

The first thing I did was look at the view from our hotel, the Radison, which is the highest building in Oslo.

I headed out of our Hotel in the direction of Main Street. I was told if you got to the church, you would find Main street. It was, actually, quite easy. And while Main street is rather touristy, it is also really pretty, with street musicians and nice buildings... and really great sculptures! I went a little trigger happy with my camera (but then, when do I not?)

I took several pictures of this lady at different times of the day, because the shadows around her kept changing.
The church was quite beautiful, or at least, what I could see of it, because it looks like it's under restoration.

Pretty buildings!The quite talented street musician. There was a really neat couple that was watching him that I wanted to photo, but they kept looking at me strangely and I didn't want to seem too weird.

Oh god, the amazingness! *drools*
Oh, come on. You know your inner child wants them so badly!Ok, so the first picture you see here is the view of the Palace, and I'm still not so good with my camera so it's blurry.

To the left are gardens... and the National theater. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

To my intimidate left (you can't see it in the photo, is the Parliament Building, which is GEORGEOUS!

I'm SO planning to go there.

Here you have one of the lions out in front of the parliament building, which I'm going to go take a tour of on Saturday... since that's the only day they let you in. Isn't he cute? I always like the daydream I have where the statues come to life in a city, and it tickles me pink to think of this guy roaming around Mainstreet.

You guessed it, the Parliment Building.

When I first saw these deer, I thought they were real. Surprised the heck out of me.

So I was just starting to get hungry (it was just after noon, when I came by this place. They were doing some type of promotional gig, and they were giving out free soup. God, It was AMAZING soup. The Beef was nice and soft, the vegetables well flavored... if you're ever in Oslo, and want someplace that has good food, this place is what it says, fast good wholesome food. YUM.

NOW I can talk about the National Theatre!

This place was surrounded by statues, the most prominent being three of Norway's biggest playwrights, one of which is Ibsen (*loves on Ibsen*)

I took a picture of my favorite statue.

I then proceeded to make my way up the hill that leads to the Palace. This is a picture of the view.

And this is my attempt to photograph the roses that are still in bloom. (Are they aware that it's cold out? )

And finally, I made it to the Palace!

MORE PALACE!

So after looking at the palace, I was just about to leave when something started happening! I really don't know what it was, but it was cool:

After the palace I went to the Ibsen Museum, which is the apartment where he lived out his last years. It was a really cool place that I could write a whole post about just in and of itself. It was really sweet because when I got a tour of the apartment, I was the only English speaker, so they gave me my own tourguide, who not only was really nice, but tolerated me peppering her with questions.

In Oslo,Norway baby!

2007-11-08T11:08:00.000+01:00

I'm in Oslo, Norway and ready to take on the city! Dad has to work, so I'm going to be wandering around on my own.

FUN FUN.

NOT in Oslo

2007-11-07T09:04:00.000+01:00

Now, you may be wondering why that is since I was supposed to be on a bus this morning to the Airport so I could meet up with dad. Turns out snowstorms in the states have got the planes out of sync, so dad missed his flight to Oslo.

I found this out sometime this morning, or last night, just after Midnight when Mom called me.

So now I'm flying out TOMORROW morning, same time.

God, I hope things go all right.

REALLY bad day.

2007-11-06T20:50:00.000+01:00

The following is an edited version of the series of events I sent in a letter:

This is one of the days that you just shouldn't leave the house. Really. Forgive me if I sound a bit bitter, and perhaps part of it is being in an unfamiliar place, but today was a day I do not want to repeat again.

Things went all right until lunch. Then, I decided I needed to get my food subsidy money cashed and my graded papers from the University, since it looked like I wasn't going to get to a museum or to do anything really productive.

A quick internet search later, I left armed with the different locations of the Nordisa (I know that spelling is wrong but we'll go with it) in my pocket, and determination. I got on the subway and started heading to the nearest one. I went there, and they informed me that I needed to have a Swedish person with me because they could not know if I was the person on my passport. Ok. I get frustrated, but that's all right, they're probably being strict so I'll just go to the next bank. After all, I know I CAN cash at check at Nordisa, I did it in Visby all right. So I get on the subway and head to the second location. It turns out just to be an ATM kisok, after I walk about half a mile. OK. Great. Excersize. That is good considering I've been an invalid for the past four days.

I go to the next place. Oh, they're relocating. Wonderful. At this point, I'm close to the University, so I go and pick up my papers and stuff. Then I turn around. I'm frustrated, it's cold, and it's getting to be almost three o'clock- banks close at four. I get on the subway... and happen to notice a sign for the Mika concert I'm going to. Except... wait a moment. It says the 9th. That's the day I'm leaving to go see Dad in Oslo. But I thought the concert was on the 8th... Well, I just happen to have the tickets with me, I'll just take them out and look at them and... SHOOT.

I have the wrong day.

Now, take note, these tickets have caused me some trouble, being more expensive than I was first quoted, then the girl that was planning to go with me having to cancel, (so now I'm saddled with two tickets and she never paid me for hers), so then Anita offers to go with me, and now, wonder of wonders, I've got the wrong day. I've been functioning thinking that the concert was on Thursday, but no, it's on FRIDAY. And I'm going to miss it. Because I GOT THE WRONG DAY.

Of course, because I'm on the subway, I now have time to think of the repercussions of my actions, and the fact that Mom is going to be furious with me because she already gave me the talk about keeping my spending down while I'm in Sweden (because when I first got here I got the conversion rate wrong AND I didn't know that there was a service charge on my credit card... I asked and the people SAID there wouldn't be). And now, I'm being frivilous about money because I've just sunk 100 dollars into tickets to my first ever real concert and in EUROPE of all places and Anita thinks she's going with me on Thursday but it's not Thursday it's Friday and well, SHIT.

So I stew all over this while I go to the third Nordisa bank, and they flat out tell me they won't cash my check because I don't have an account with them.

I go out of the bank and cry.

I then proceed to go back home and cry to Sam who tries to be supportive but I'm having none of it because all I have in my brain is thinking about looking really really stupid in front of Anita and telling my parents and them being FURIOUS.

Narrator intervention. I then proceeded to rehash the whole argument, which, unless you were there, was not very interesting other than both mom and I loosing our tempers, me getting off the phone and crying. I also spoke to dad before speaking to mom; and dad was a lot calmer.

A while later I get back on the phone with them again, and we figure things out so that I can go a two days earlier, on Wednesday. And now, on with the excerpt:

I'm happy I'm leaving earlier, but I'm also emotionally wrung dry, and I keep ocliating between wanting to cry and just feeling ambivalent.

So... yeah.

I'm still smarting from everything. Gabe's delighted about the tickets, now that the show's on Friday he can go, and take a friend if he wants. And I need to be packed and leave the apartment by... 5:15 am tomorrow morning. And I have no clean Laundry, because that was what I was planning on doing tomorrow. That is, I have clean laundry to go, but I'll have to clothes to wear when I come back.

Joy.

SNOW

2007-11-06T10:44:00.000+01:00

My first snowfall in Sweden. It's been raining like Noah's flood lately, and finally it got cold enough that I woke up this morning and looked out the window to snow! You have no clue how delighted I was.

It didn't stick for long, which suited me, but it was still quite exciting to see. I took pictures!

The view is from the apartment.

Backpostage... 'cause I'm behind

2007-11-04T08:32:00.000+01:00

I'm actually writing this on the 9th, but filing it on the 4th, because my sense of Order demands it so.

So what has been happening lately? Well, I was sick from Friday the 2nd until Monday the 5th. However, on Saturday I THOUGHT I was all better, so I decided to go with Anita and Magnus to see the "Day of the Dead" celebration thingie they have. It's not called Day of the Dead, and it isn't the festival you hear about in Spanish-speaking countries, but on the Saturday after All Hallows, many Swedes go to the graveyards of the people they've lost, light candles and honor them. The sentiment was something I appreciated, and something I kinda wish was more popular in the 'states. We went to one of the biggest Cemetaries in Sweden to light our candles- because both Anita and Magnus' family live far away, and the importance of the holiday is about remembering, not where you are.

It was, quite simply, beautiful. It's one of the few cemeteries that has a forest in it, and as we walked the cemetery you could see all the candles- oftentimes more than one candle- at almost every grave. There had to be traffic control to channel the flow of people.

Unfortunately, it was more walking than Anita made it sound, and I very quickly discovered that I was not up to my normally charged batteries. I had to go home because I was feeling faint. Still glad I went though.

In other news, take a look at this:

Yes, it's what it seems. A purple potato. It comes from Gotland. Anita says something in the soil makes them look that way. I really want to make mashed potatoes out of them simply because of the color. It also puts a whole new spin on the song, 'Purple Stew' that's sung at camp.

Ugh- Day Two

2007-11-02T16:07:00.000+01:00

Warning: This post, upon re-reading, is not for the faint of heart!

I wish I had something more interesting to write about, but this is day two of not feeling well. The Nausea of yesterday has lessened, but general abdominal cramping and misery have taken it's place. I have that wonderful mixture of being hungry yet having no real urge to eat. And my stomach and lower intestines have been making some really interesting noises.

Probably stemming from my stomach distress, I had horrible dreams of intestinal worms and strange writhing creatures. The best one was when I met this woman in the dream who thought she was pregnant, but when she went into labor had snakes and worms coming out of her belly button and other... areas. She managed to live and was taken to the hospital, where they gave her a drug that should kill any of the remaining worm/snakes in her body. However, she wasn't able to expel them... she was susposed to digest them apparently. So a doctor decided to open up her stomach (and they didn't even put her to sleep- they just stuck a needle into her spine and numbed everything below her ribcage) where he proceeded to open up her stomach and look at her intestines (which resembled stuffed sausages), and when he split one open, it was filled with dead baby snakes, which they took a vacuum to and sucked out. Unfortunately, it was one of those clear vacuums, where you can see the dirt in the container, and so you could see the dead snakes getting stuffed wetly into the container, some of them splitting open so black juices collected at the bottom.

I woke feeling quite sick, and proceeded to stare at the wall, and put my covers on me and get too hot, only to take them off and get too cold.

I went back to sleep, and this time I was in a park I had went to with Anita where there was a lake. I was sitting on the shore, when suddenly, this blue and yellow dragon/serpent came out of the water, crying, "I am the Swedish Dragon, hear me roar!"

And I asked, "Don't you think Swedish Serpent is a bit more catchy?"

The dragon paused in it's ferocious and terrible display to peer down at me. "Do you think so? 'Cause I was afraid of getting mixed up with my cousin, the Loc Ness. She is, after all, a serpent."

"Sucks, I was always thinking she was some type of prehistoric water dinosaur."*

"Nah, she's a real serpent. Now our aunt who lives in the Great Lakes in the US is a real plesiosaur. But she's a sweetheart. Only eats fish. Unlike me, who has found you, a non-swede to eat!" Because of course, the Swedish Serpent couldn't eat Swedes, because that wouldn't be very nationalistic of him, and after all, he's got the coloring and everything so he has to go along with his role.

But I convinced him that I would better be served as his publicity person, because being the Swedish Serpent he'd need someone to spin the news the right way so he wasn't seen as a threat. So I hopped on his back and into the air. (Because he was after all, more like a dragon, with wings-even if he did live in the water)

Unfortunately, he also was a bit of a show-off, and decided to go into a free-fall dive, whereupon my stomach did somersaults and I woke up.

But as I said, today has been been getting steadily better. And I get to look forward going to Oslo to see my dad at the end of break, from Friday to Monday morning, when I come home.

YEY!

*Note: I found out after doing a bit of research that there were no such things as prehistoric water dinosaurs. They were more like reptiles that gave birth to live young. Interesting.

Ugh

2007-11-01T19:14:00.001+01:00

God, I'm not feeling well. I wanted to finish up my proposal, but somewhere around ten I just started feeling really car-sick, without the being in a car. It's been coming and going in waves.

And I hate not feeling well in an unfamiliar place. And while I'm getting more and more comfortable in Sweden, I'm not that comfortable.

So I'm going to bed at an early hour and hoping it's gone by tomorrow.

Swedish Test

2007-10-31T23:21:00.000+01:00

My Swedish test kicked my butt and left me whimpering. I'm still recovering.

But, I was able to wear the really cute Halloween socks and stickers Michael sent me, so life is good.

Happy Halloween to everyone!

Grrrr

2007-10-30T18:26:00.000+01:00

I have a Swedish test tomorrow, and I'm studying my butt off. Seriously. If I wasn't so busy keeping myself studying I would be flipping out. A LOT. I have this program, BYKI (before you know it) that does flashcards. Today I found out you can change the hand that holds the flashcards. I changed it to the one that has pink painted fingernails with butterflies on them, and a big pink ring.

Small things make me happy. Isn't it great?

In other news, I got a package today from a certain... someone *grins* and it says I can't open it until tomorrow. This is driving me more than a little up the wall. Det är stå på matt, driving me crazy. (See? I'm praticing my Swedish! that means, there it stands, on the mat. I think. If I got it right.) But it's standing there mocking me. Telling me to open it. Like that plant that says "feed me!" in Little Shop of Horrors. 'Cept the box is saying,

Open me! Nobody will know! And I might have some wonderful distractions in me. Think of how you can procrastinate!

Or I might just be going crazy.

Well, back to studying! Now what was the name for butter...

Oh! Smor!

*mutters to self*

Strange Men and Time Changes

2007-10-28T23:59:00.001+01:00

I swear, I have a sign that hovers over my head that indicates to old men that they should talk to me. I went to the bank to cash my food subsidy check. Now, here in Sweden it's fairly common when you go into a bank (or any place where you normally have to wait in a line in America) for there to be a little ticket-issuing machine that gives you a ticket, and then you wait for your ticket to be called. So, like any good Swede, I hit the button, take my ticket, read it, take not of where they are in the numbers (ten people ahead of me) and go sit down. There's one seat available. It is by an old man.

I sit down, open up my book, start reading.

The old man shifts.

I hold my book closer to my face, ignore him, and pray to god that he won't talk to me.

No luck.

He says something in Swedish, I reply back that I don't speak Swedish.

He then proceeds to use lots of pantomime, and wears a big smile as he talks to me. For emphasis, he touches my arm.

After struggling to be polite for five to eight minutes (during which the line only moves about three) I finally tell him that I need to read the book for my class. Then I turn my back on him and BURY my face in the book.

WHY ME? I DO NOTHING TO ENCOURAGE THEM. WHY?

The world may never know. This brings the strange man incident count up to four. The Italian guy, the bug guy, the crochet guy, and now the bank guy. *Fumes*

AND THEN, so make things oh so much better (can you sense the sarcasm here?) the bank won't let me cash the check, even though I had ID up the wazoo and I went to a bank that was the same type as where the check was issued. Apparently I have to have a Swedish person with a Swedish ID to verify that I'm who I say I am. ARRAGH! So I don't have my food subsidy money, which is a bother, but not a hugely big deal. But still, frustrating.

In other news, the European equivalent of Daylight Savings time started today, and we rolled our clocks back an hour, which meant that around 3:30/4 pm-ish, it started getting dark. By 4:45 pm, it was pitch black. See the stars black. This is greatly un-nerving. It's getting to be hardball time.

My Field Trip to City Hall, Video Version, Part 3

2007-10-26T23:40:00.001+02:00

So now we go to the Gold room, which was created by a young artist. He wasn't really that famous before he did the Gold room, and in Sweden he wasn't very famous afterward either. This is because the old artist who was going to do the room died before he could start. The new guy was found, and he was very promising... but he first estimated that the room could be done in seven years, only to be told he had two years to do the work. So there's a few mistakes. Like St. George the Dragonslayer's head is chopped off.

Now, the Gold room is rather controversial because the artist did it in a style not typically thought of as "Swedish" Or even classical, in keeping with the rest of the building. Rather, this room is rather foreign in flavor, more in keeping with Roman or some other mosaics. However, all the motifs are Swedish.

The best thing about this room though is the woman who dominates the artwork. She's susposed to the the spirit of the lake that joins up with the sea (Where Stockholm Lies) and the artist thought her quite beautiful. After all, she is a protector, so she is a little more muscular than most people think a woman should be, but the artist thought she was quite beautiful. Conventional Swedes disagree. Plus, she holds Stockholm in her lap, and seems to stand at the center of the world- see, there's the Eastern countries on one side, and there's the Western countries (including, yes, the statue of liberty and an American flag) on the right side. And she is in the center of the constellations also.

And Finally, I have some other random footage of the blue room and other stuff. But I'm tired and want to go to bed, so you're going to have to figure out what the rest of the stuff is without my help. Here we go:

(oh, and the stairs in the blue room are exspecially designed for females walking down in heels and doing it gracefully. The architect and his wife (in heels) spent THREE WEEKS STRAIGHT walking up and down the staircase together trying out different models.)

ahhh! The video quality is SO BAD

2007-10-26T23:38:00.001+02:00

Really, I'm looking at what I've posted thus far and I"m thinking that youtube has the worst video quality ever. I swear my videos are better than this. But I will persist, because I know of no other way of doing it.

My Field Trip to City Hall, Video Version, Part 2

2007-10-26T21:34:00.000+02:00

This is the room where congress meets. The dais is there not because of any sense of grandeur (heaven forbid Swedes raise someone up higher than all the others and perhaps imply that he or she is better than all the others) but because of acoustics... because the room is so high.

The beams. Originally the beams were supposed to be covered, but the architect decided he liked the effect, so he left the concrete beams in, covered them with wood, and had them painted. The motifs in the "sky" are supposed to invoke the Vikings, who held their meetings under overturned boats in the winter. Apparently the Vikings made very quick decisions because nobody wanted to be out in the cold that long, and this was the architect's way of trying to tell the governing body to keep things brisk and efficient here. To one of the sides there is seating for people to watch. What's funny is often the members of the council will bring their children with them for their meetings, because most of the people who meet there have day jobs, and when they meet they want to spend time with their children, so they bring them along. Of course, Swedish children are much better behaved than many other cultures children, so it isn't that big of problem (that wasn't me saying that, that's what the tour guide said, and I have to agree with her. Swedish children ARE really well behaved.

6

A glockenspiel, I think is what our tour guide called it. It shows the Swedes beating the Danes. Of course, the tower in the Stockholm City hall is just one meter taller than the Danes one, because Swedes are better than the Danes. *wink*

7

The only really old things in the building which are really old. The room was designed for the tapestries, and it's where on Saturdays people can come get married for free, regardless of nationality or gender. The longer ceremony takes three minutes, and you're married by one of the council members. There's a 5 month waiting list.

8

More tapestries.

9

My Field Trip to the City Hall

2007-10-26T20:37:00.000+02:00

So today the whole of the Swedish Program got up really early to go see Stockholm's City Hall- the place where the Nobel Prizes are awarded. It's coming up soon, and already people are starting to get excited and talk about it.

This first video is of the courtyard. The City Hall is actually only just over 80 years old, even though it looks older. They made it to look and fit in with the other historical buildings in the city. And while they succeeded in some areas, they did not in others (some of the rooms are quite modern looking, or quite... other country looking. You'll see what I mean, later)

*EDIT: MY ORIGONAL POST HAD THE "COURTYARD" AS MY DINNER FROM LAST NIGHT. IT HAS BEEN CHANGED. MY APOLOGIES. I hope you have been amused.

This is of the view of Gamla Stan and the sorrounding area that can be seen from the City Hall. The Bridge goes over the island that was once the prison, and is now a Youth Hostel.

This the the Blue Room- which was supposed to be blue, but the architect decided at the last moment that he liked the natural brick better. Originally this room was supposed to represent the sea- with the green-blue tiles being the sea bottom, the walls being the sea, and the open ceiling being the sky. It was also supposed to be like a courtyard, but because of heating problems, the roof got changed from glass to a solid ceiling.

This is the view of the organ. Ideally Organs should be place 3/4 to 2/3 of the way up on a wall to get the right resonance. Here however they have been placed at the top- which means when there are a lot of people in the room and it gets warm, the organ sounds funny. Another interesting fact- when changes had to be made a while back, the keyboard had to be removed, and was changed to a remote system, where the organist is on the floor. This results in a HALF SECOND delay between what the organist plays and what comes out. (For those who don't sing- that's a noticeable difference- it's got to be confusing as heck.)

Video of my dinner

2007-10-25T20:33:00.000+02:00

Just in case you needed proof.

Small things make me happy

2007-10-25T20:22:00.001+02:00

Like getting to sleep late in the morning.

Or wandering around until noon in your pj's.

Or getting almost my whole proposal done (except for part of the thesis, which I'm stuck at but not totally helpless on)

Getting my laundry done (which I have to take out of the washer- remember that Jen before you go to bed!)

Making dinner tonight (real dinner, not just boiled eggs for myself) for myself and Gabe... and having it be edible! And rather tasty too! I made stir fry, (with fake chicken and lots of veggies) and put it over grits (because I wanted to be adventurous and prove to Gabe that I could at least cook SOMETHING)

Just as proof, I took a video of it, but I'll have to put it up at a later point.

My connection is shaky right now.

I'm feeling rather off, and I had a grand intention of writing a witty and funny post, but now I'm just feeling tired.

Later

my last day of International Relations

2007-10-24T21:59:00.000+02:00

So get this: my International Relations course was only half a semester long (same amount of course hours though because it was twice as long as the rest of my classes... and added to that he often ran 45 minutes over- and the class was supposed to end at six- so sometimes I wasn't getting home to 8:15). And today was the last day. Now don't get me wrong, the class wasn't that bad... I just think that there was a cultural difference between how American teachers teach and how Swedish Teachers teach. It meant that at times there were crossed wires and miss communications. And well, the subject matter could have been presented in a more interesting way. But the class itself was informative, and the evaluations were papers, so I'm pretty happy, because that's my preferred method of learning.

Anyway, with the exception of a final paper, the class is done, which means I now only have three classes, that happen mostly in the mornings. It's actually quite exciting, because I'll have my afternoons entirely FREE! *dreams of going to museums dance in my head* And my course load is going to drop considerably now. It was really hard to keep up with all the reading with the class moving at double pace, but now that it's done I'm quite happy. It also means I'll be able to take advantage of the sunlight more often!

I had a particular Swedish observation I wanted to point out... AH!

So big news in one of the local papers today... a new cafe opened in Södermalm (I think that's how it's spelled), or near there. It has entirely white walls, and it's really bright in there. Apparently the lights are special ones that simulate sunlight. See, many Swedes go to have light therapy during the winter to counteract seasonal depression, 'cause it gets dark here (the sun's been going down just after five now... or somewhere close to there). Well, this guy had it really bad, and decided to invest in his own lights. Well, then he thought of how nice it would be if people could go to a place where they normally spent time to get the doses of light, without having to spend time out of their day going and just sitting in the light.

Thus, this cafe is born.

I think even if I have to pay a cover charge it might be worth it to go once a week. I'm starting to get really nervous about this whole dark thing. Although, I think the Swedish version of Daylight Savings Time is starting to come up, so I'm looking forward to that a bit.

In other news, Halloween is coming up in the US, and it is greatly saddening to me that I'm not there for it, because it's one of my favorite holidays. I know the precise costume I would use though... involving hot glue guns, feathers and leaves. *evil grin* I'm debating if I want to do that here, or just pay a smaller tribute to Halloween in Sweden. The Swedes might not take my attempt at American Pride in stride, and I'm afraid there's not as many crazy harmless people as there seem to be in other cities. I would actually attract attention dressing wired, where in other American cities it would just be like, eh!

My last and final thing- I've noticed wandering around the city occasionally these knit or crochet... objects wrapped around lamp posts or other places. Finally, I took a close look at one, realized there was a tag that went to a blog. This neat a frivolous (yet in a serious way) site is about knit graffiti. I have to say, I might be in love. Check it out: Masquerade.

For your Viewer Entertainment

2007-10-23T14:27:00.000+02:00

On impulse, because I had the camera with me the other day in Swedish when we were working in the language lab, I decided to take some video of me Singing in Swedish, just so you could see how far I've come!

So, with no further ado, I bring to you, JEN Singing in Swedish! (also, take note that I've only had barely two months of Swedish so my pronunciation is TERRIBLE. If your a Swede, please don't get offended.)

The song is about the days of the week, and how the person doesn't do anything on any of the days because of various reasons.

And yes, there is a second song, as if the first wasn't embarrassing enough... It's a love song, but a lighthearted one. The lines proceed something like this, Do you like me? Yes, I do. (another question) (another affirmative) It's cute, and it's an ear-worm.

In other news, I FINALLY managed to send the package off. Now, you might think this isn't that hard of thing to do, but consider this: In Sweden there are no post offices. You're local grocery store or novelty shop could be part of the postal service. Now, this is great because there are better hours and it's more efficient now that the government isn't funding it, but it also means for us Ignorant Americans who can't read Swedish, Finding these places is rather difficult, seeing as the indication that they are a post office is normally a small sign which I CAN'T READ. So I go into different places asking for directions to the local post office. And well... me and directions... let's just say that it made the whole thing an adventure.

PS: Just got finished looking at my blog counter, and yesterday was a record-breaking day with 28 Views by 17 individual computers. That breaks the day we had 20 views with 15 individual computers. *does dance* How cool is that?

Also, just a reminder, if you feel any type of urge, go ahead and comment in the comments section. I fixed it to people can actually comment now.

Of all the things I miss...

2007-10-22T23:55:00.000+02:00

Now, being in Sweden there are a bunch of things I miss. Oh, don't get me wrong, I miss people (my family, boyfriend, friends and bestfriends) and I miss places (my bed, the library, Davidson, Davidson College, my "study spots")

But there are things I miss. And one of those things is my books.

I read a post on a blog I follow here, and the author of the post noted how her mother says she doesn't need to meditate because she has her books. And I have to agree. Whatever Anita seems to get from meditating (the calm, the stopping and just relaxing, the moment to herself) I can get from reading.

I love reading. At home I often average two or three books per week. These exclude the reading I do for classes or on the internet. I read about 450 pages of text a week. Just for pleasure. Now, granted, I often read books more than once, and I am reading brain candy- mostly romances, paranormals, and murder mysteries, but despite that, I read A LOT. It's my way of decompressing.

Here in Sweden? Don't read so much. Not many books in English, and the ones that are in English tend to be classics or more intellectual novels, because the smart people are the people who are Swedish and reading books in English, and if their reading in English it probably isn't for escapist purposes.

So, yes. I miss my giant hot chocolate mug, my collection of crocheting needles and yarn (Yeah, I miss that a lot) my drop spindle and carders. I miss my plants and my comforter and my pillow (even though the ones here are just as good). I miss my familiar smelling deodorant and shampoo (although I've been finding some nice-smelling alternatives).

But books?(In English?) I miss them a heck of a lot. I'm going to have to do a lot of making up reading when I get home.

Feeling like a fish in a fishbowl

2007-10-22T12:28:00.000+02:00

So today in International Relations we were debating World Poverty, and our obligations as moral citizens on what we have to do about it. We were looking at two arguments, and one of them argued that we should give as much time and money as we can give, and keep on giving, until we come to a moral consequence that is of equal or greater value to the moral consequence of world hunger. Aka: give until it adversely affects your life.

This argument is oversimplified, but for the purposes of this post it works.

Anyway, we started talking about moral obligation, and somehow we got into Slavery and reparations. The funny thing is, we have one black guy (we're all from the US, by the way) and he was against Slavery reparations, yet there were several whites who were for it. And well, the discussion got heated, with one of the people saying "What, are you calling me a slave driver?" *Blinks* To be fair, he stopped after he said it he stopped and said, "That came out totally wrong." And the whole class laughed.

But the whole time our teacher just watched us, and he had a slightly quizzical expression on his face, as if he didn't quite "get" us Americans (he's Swedish). Now this happens more often than I'm always comfortable with. There are times I swear he just sets us up for these discussions just so he can see how those "crazy ignorant Americans" act. Now, I'm sure that isn't entirely true, but it felt that way.

In other news, both of my papers are in. Now I must begin Studying for my Swedish test coming up soon, and back to working on my proposal.

A breath of fresh (Swedish!) Country air

2007-10-21T20:14:00.000+02:00

So I got my essay in on Friday, and then took the rest of the day to work on Project Michael, which I am glad to report is almost done. It just needs to be sent off tomorrow… perhaps the day after when I have a bit more time.

This weekend we took at train out of Stockholm to go to a suburb (well really more a suburb of a suburb) where some of Anita’s family friends live. They had invited us to come to their house to celebrate Anita’s friends’ birthday and to help bring in the last of the harvest- carrots and some white tuber that is strangely sweet and I have no clue what the name of it is.

The house is very beautiful. Raymond, the father, is a politician for the Green Party, and a fascinating man to talk to. His wife (whose name escapes me now) is very nice to talk to also.

I’ve been having a lot of fun. Raymond being part of the green party, the house is very environment-friendly, and being Swedes, they manage to mix efficiency with a sparse beauty. The house is all clean lines and soothing colors and wood, and the countryside around it is very beautiful. Yesterday we went for a walk, guided by Nangini, and she introduced us to all her neighbor’s horses and showed us around the area. The forests here are different from the ones back home. The ones back home has lots of leafy trees, but here most of the trees are different types of pine. Lichen, moss and little shrubs abound on the rocky surface. There’s a very different feel to the forest, and it’s much more open. It was so peaceful walking in the chilly air- 6 degrees Celsius, with our breath puffing into clouds and Nangini trying to teach me Swedish words- the names of trees, colors, clothing, and body parts.

So after our walk and dinner (12 around a small table- Raymond’s children, Charlene’s children, a neighbor and then the five of us) we went and had a Sauna. I’m finding that the more I do the Sauna (this is now my fourth) the easier and easier it gets to wander around naked with people of all ages. It’s one of those cultural things which I’m coming to love about Swedes- how comfortable people are with their bodies. It’s not a thing to be ashamed about, it just IS. And it really isn’t sexual either. If there’s one thing I’m happy I’m bringing home with me, it’s that acceptance.

After the Sauna I was just… boneless. Relaxed for the first time in the last week. We deiced to play some party games, Gabe's 'Tarzan,' and some swedish variations on some camp games I've played before. It was a time just filled with laughter, and during that time I got to know Raymond's two older children better- one of them my age and one just a bit younger. The boy, who's my age, makes his living playing online poker, and makes about as much as his father does right now. (Kind of intimidated me a little, here I am spending on this money on an education, while this guy gets good at probability and makes heaps of money). Both of them were really nice, and Anton (the poker player) was really good about speaking in English so I could understand. A boon, because by that time of the day I had been surrounded by people speaking Swedish and me not understanding a word because they talk so fast, and I was feeling just a little left out. Not sad or angry, but I was getting a little bored, not being able to follow the conversation. But the games were pretty universal, and so I had fun with that. Still, I found myself struggling to keep my eyes open, and when Anton and the neighbor decided to leave (because they both live nearby) I took that as an excuse to go to bed.

So, I went to bed shortly afterward, and slept from around nine pm to three am. I woke to go to the bathroom, and when I came back to my bed I found I had a visitor- one of the VERY affectionate cats that lives at their house. Well how could I kick the cat out? He was purring and well, the white noise was actually quite welcome. So I had a “stuffed animal” with me the rest of the night.

Today we spent in the garden. Charlene and Raymond have quite a sizable garden, and they invited to have our help in bringing in the harvest. I got assigned to the carrots (amazing fun!)- pulling them out, sorting them into big and small, and pulling off the green tops. And eating all the really small ones, or the funny looking ones. Then, it was time to go in for lunch and pumpkin soup (made entirely from the garden) and apple crisp for desert.

But the best thing about the weekend? No computer or cell phone on. I did some reading for my classes (and I’m going to be working my butt off the rest of tonight), but I’m really glad I went and had fun.

Representing America... wait, ME?!?

2007-10-18T23:49:00.000+02:00

So yesterday I went to speak to Magnus’s class about being an American. *rolls eyes* As if I actually know something about being an American. One of the major things that makes me apprehensive about being in Sweden is I'm worried that someone is going to assume that I'm a "typical American." It’s interesting, because I don’t particularly consider myself representative of what an American is, although since I’ve come to Sweden I’ve noticed that in values and in ways of looking at the world, I’m more American than I thought.

But anyway, I opened with a brief geographical lesson, and a little bit about where I live and what my family’s like, and then I began answering questions. Magnus had the students write out at least one question on a piece of paper so that I wouldn’t be functioning in a vacuum- as like most high school students it took most of the class for them to warm up enough to start asking questions.

I think the experience went well, and I tried to keep the conversation from straying too much to politics, just because on so much I’m not quite sure of where I stand or how to defend it. Also, since our ways of looking a the world are so different, they gave me very strange looks when I told them that you vote not only on a politician’s stand, but also on how you perceive them morally… for instance, evaluating if you think they will actually try to do what they promise to do, or do they have a hidden agenda that is different from what the politician is saying.

We talked about food, how Swedish pancakes are strange because they are flat, and sports. One of they guys asked me if ice hockey is really as violent as it seemed on TV. I said yes, or at least, my perception of it was the same as his. Another one of the people asked me if I would prefer to raise my children in America or Sweden, and I truly had to think on that question, because I’m not quite as sure as I would have been before I came here.

They asked about my perceptions of Swedes, the differences in schools in America and Sweden, and dress codes. I explained to them that it’s not always the adults that promote dress codes, and in some schools the demand for dress codes comes from the students. I then confided that personally I could see the merit of uniforms, even if I didn’t particularly want them myself.

It was an interesting experience. As a closeout, I gave them all my blog address, so that if they were interested they could take a look at it. I also gave them the web address for The Swedish Program, so that if they ever wanted to host a study abroad student, they had the information. Some of the people seemed genuinely interested.

Magnus thought the whole thing had went well, and I’m inclined to agree with him.

And now, I must get working on my essay, which is due at noon tomorrow and which I don’t have very much ready to hand in yet.

Some really neat stuff

2007-10-15T21:46:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I went to go see Magnus, my host family father, sing. It was really neat because the choir sang in an art gallery, and I loved the pictures one of the featured artists had up on the wall. They were these bright scenes that invoked the universe, and out of the painting came these sculptures of big cats- lions, panthers and the like. Some of them hug out of the picture frame, some of them batted at a "planet." They were bright and happy and quite lovely. I really really lusted after one of them, and I played out a brief fantasy in my mind where I was a rich woman who could buy one of them. It was good that I had this quite entertaining fantasy to engage me, because after Magnus's group sang, another group of people came onstage (stage being a loose term here, seeing as they were singing in what could be termed a "found space")

Now don't get me wrong. I enjoy opera in the right setting. But they explained the plot line in Swedish (which I didn't follow) and the actual opera was in Italian (which I only caught one word of, which was Amore). And I still might have enjoyed it, except they were singing in an opera voice, when the space was quite small (you really didn't need to project) and I was in the front row and got blasted. Also, one of the men was sweating profusely, and when he turned his head too quickly, drops of sweat would come off of his hair.

So instead I daydreamed that I was someone who could accidentally make statues come to life if I let my emotions get out of my control, and thought about how it would be if the tigers and leopards and panthers could step out of the paintings, keeping the bright colors of the paintings on their bodies, so their bodies were made up of celestial bodies. I imagined how the opera singers would react and the big cats jumped out of the frames and leisurely stretched, digging their nails into the hardwood floor and leaving pale scares in their wake. One of them would knock over the wine bottle left over from the perception, and then would start lapping the red stain off the floor, looking like it was lapping up the blood of a recent kill. And the man with the big booming base voice would shriek like a little schoolgirl, and the noise would break the rest of the people from their paralysis, as they fled from the gallery into the rain.

And there I/the character (because by the end of the thing we've become two separate entities in my mind, with me sitting in the back of her mind like a full out sensory movie) and she would look at the cats, and would go to pet one, and wet paint would come away on her hand as the more time the cats spent outside the paintings the more real they became. And she would say, quite distinctly in German (and I don't know quite why other than German sounds more threatening than Swedish yet still near enough to English to not be quite so exotic) several choice curse words.

Hey, it got me through the singing.

In other news, I took my normal workout time today and instead of going to the gym decided to walk around the city a bit. (I consoled myself with the knowlege that I will have time to do a bigger workout tomorrow and also the fact that it's getting darker each day and it was beautiful out and the sun was shining). I went to Slussen, and from there made my way around a part of Gamla Stan (I think). I went to a really high point in the city, and got a great view of the area. And then I found this really great spiral staircase on the side of a building, and went up on that, even though I probably shouldn't have went up there since I think it was a fire escape.

But it was so much fun, my heart was beating because of the height and the view, and the sun was warm even if the air was cool, and the sounds of the city were curiously distant. And in a moment of clarity I understood why the Swedish have so much green space. These pockets of solitude keep them sane. Their like butterflies were you least expect them, you turn a corner and there's a bit of green, just enough for you to sit, take a look at the view, and find your balance. It doesn't have to be on the scale of Grand Central Park. I can just be a bit of green, a small jewel set in the concrete and stone ring. A promise and a highlight.

Mixing Cultures... and Pancakes

2007-10-13T18:41:00.000+02:00

So the apartment was empty last night when I came home- the boys were off celebrating their father's birthday, Anita is on a weekend spiritual retreat, and Magnus was helping with his friends put the sailboat up on land. I actually got quite a bit of work done last night- I decided to go home early and just sat and read and wrote and worked. It was nice 'cause I could blast music out of my computer without worrying about bothering anyone. Just very chill. AND I even went to bed at a decent time!!!

Today it was just Magnus and I in the apartment, and I was kind of worried because of all the people in the family, sometimes I feel a bit of disconnect with Magnus. The funny thing is, I think it's because of his height. I just haven't ever really gotten to know someone that well that was that tall, and it unnerves me to look up to him while I'm talking all the time.

But today was nice. He had grading to do, and I had reading, so we shared the living room and both worked. Then Magnus went out for a run, I took a shower, and then when he came back he suggested that we make pancakes and try out the Maple Syrup that my mom had brought as a gift when she came to see the family. I was all for it. I've been eying the bottle all week, really wanting to have some but thinking it would be bad manners to be the first to sample. Maple syrup and I are good friends, and along with apples they are the two foods I probably miss most when I'm at college. The Maple Syrup you can buy at Davidson just doesn't taste the same.

But this was real, Massachusetts boiled and made MAPLE SYRUP. (which, I will admit, even tastes better than the Maple Syrup you can buy in NY) So Magnus is like, why don't you make the pankake batter while I go take a shower (because he's just come in from his run). And I'm like, "Sure." Because I sure as heck wasn't going to be like, "There's a reason I haven't offered to cook for you guys thus far, and it isn't because I don't want to, it's because I have no clue how to bake anything using the metric system and I feel too silly trying to because I still haven't figured out where everything is in your kitchen, even if I do snoop through your cupboards when nobody's home and try to read the spices on your cabinet even though EVERYTHING IS IN SWEDISH AND I CAN'T UNDERSTAND ANY OF IT."

But some of the panic must have shown in my face, because Magnus pauses and is like, "Ah, but you wouldn't know how to use the metric system. Here, let me get a recipe out." And, THANK GOD, he not only gets out the recipe out, but even gets out the measuring cups I need, because everything is done in deci-liters, yet depending on the recipe they still use teaspoons and tablespoons (or also the metric system), yet the teaspoons and tablespoons use the Swedish version of abbreviation instead of the American.

And then he leaves me.

Well, there was one tense moment where there were these strange lumps in the batter, and another moment where I was like, did I add three or four cup- I mean deciliters yet, and another moment where I was like, surely the batter is too thin, this looks nothing like the batter my mom makes for pancakes and I added just a tad more flour, but overall they seemed to turn out well. Swedish pancakes, I've found out, are very flat (almost like crepes), less cake-y and more just... solid. They also, in my opinion are a bit more bland. When you eat them you roll them up, and then cut them, or at least that is what Magnus did.

I've decided that I'm going to be brave, get my mom's buttermilk pancake recipe, convert it to metrics, and make them blueberry or raspberry or chocolate chip pancakes, because apparently Magnus and the rest have never had that type.

But the good news is, the Maple Syrup was GREAT on them (even though they didn't seep into the pancakes like they do with American ones)- but then there's no wrong way to eat Maple Syrup, I don't think. Unless you try to do it through your nose. Or some other extreme thing.

And the other good thing is, Magnus and I had some bonding time. We talked about mannerisms and I told him some of my funny stories about when I first came to Davidson and had a crash course in Southern Manners (or how to be on the receiving side of Southern Manners). We talked about how different cultures have different ways of speaking and subtle unspoken communication differences.

It was fun.

Tonight I'm meeting up with a friend I made at dancing, and we're going to go have a fika (a Swedish meeting to have coffee or some other hot beverage, though most normally coffee), and then I'll probably come home, get some more work done, and go to bed. But for now I need to head out.

Until later!

The Swedish Propensity to wear Scarves

2007-10-12T11:46:00.000+02:00

At the risk of generalizing too much (which if your really think about it, is a large part of this blog, because really, I'm drawing conclusions about the Swedish Culture from my very limited experiences) I would like to point out a quirk I have noticed on the subway.

Now let me just note here that I love the Stockholm Subway and public transportation system in general. And the trains I've went on since coming here? They were wonderful too. Not only do I love the T-banna (as it's called in Sweden) because it's convenient, but also because it is like a morning and evening dose of looking into a fishbowl. Everyone in Sweden uses the subway unless you are the extremely rich or the extremely poor. And most of the Extremely poor use the subway anyway, because the security is fairly lax.

But the subway is kind of like a random sampling of Stockholm. You've got the working mothers and fathers with the strollers taking their young babies to daycare. You got a variety of people from different classes: the business types, the tourist types, the "waste removal workers" (garbagemen- who don't even smell), the manual workers, the self employed, the girlfriend and boyfriend that aren't even aware of the rest of the world, the Husband with his pregnant wife who makes sure she doesn't fall over because there aren't enough seats and they're standing, the blatantly gay sambol (legally living together- like my host family parents are doing- Anita and Magnus) couple trying to entertain their three year old girl who is whiny because she didn't get enough sleep last night. And you've got people of all ages and shapes bringing their dogs (and the occasional cat and rabbit) on leashes on the subway.

You have a variety of nationalities represented: the Korean tourists with their three children and a map spread out between the two of them, the German Foreign exchange students engaged in a heated debate, the Finnish commuters who alternate between Swedish and Finnish as they unknowingly demonstrate their fluency in both, the French guy touring the world in his retirement harmlessly flirting with a girl that could be his grand-daughter, the Japanese businessman that is working on a merger with Erikson telephones who can't get of his Samsung phone long enough to realize that it might be a bad idea to be using the competition's phone when going into the meetings, the flock of Muslim women in full brightly-colored and patterned burkas (or whatever those full-length robes are called) chattering in Swedish and flitting between each other- separate (by choice or unwillingly I don't know) from the rest of the people on the subway-standing out from the dark greys, blacks and browns that most Stockholmers wear, the robes winging out behind them as they exit the doors.

I love looking into the other trains when we pass by each other, and seeing the other people in another train, reading, staring out the window bored, putting on makeup, adjusting their hat, talking, and staggering as the train shifts.

And you know what I've noticed since it's starting to get cold? EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM HAS A SCARF. Now, I will admit, scarves are fairly common in the US, but some people have hoods on their coats, and some people just pull their cap down low. Not in Stockholm, at least. EVERYONE has a scarf. Male, female, old, young, the only ones that don't seem to have them are the tourists.

It fascinates me.

I find this outrageously funny, and I know it isn't

2007-10-10T14:10:00.000+02:00

Question: Far, får får får?
Answer: Nej, får får inte får, får får lamm.

*dies laughing* I will explain.

In Swedish, får means both get and sheep. Get meaning not only get a thing, but also get children, much like we have the word beget. So understanding that...

Translation literal (with the make sense translation in parenthesis):

Question: Father, get sheep sheep? (Father, do sheep have baby sheep?)
Answer: No, sheep get not sheep, sheep get lambs. (No sheep don't have baby sheep, sheep have lambs.)

This is now my favorite swedish dirty joke, right up there with the white and black horse joke.

PS: Another interesting linguistic quirk... gift (pronounced yift in swedish) means both to get married, and posion.

*runs off laughing*

EDIT: As I was informed just a few minutes ago, I had my settings put on the comments so that only members could comment. This made some people sad. I can only blame it on the fact that Blogger registers me as a swedish speaking person, because I'm in sweden, and so I can't read any of the buttons. I've had to painstakingly translate each one and memorize what it does. Now, I'm sure there is a way to switch to english somewhere, but I haven't found it yet, seeing as everything is in swedish. But I have fixed it now so that you can comment. So please, if you feel the urge to write something in response, do so. I can promise that I, at least, will greatly appreciate it.

Getting back to Routine

2007-10-10T12:08:00.000+02:00

As much as it was fun to have a week off and sightseeing around Sweden with my mom and my grandmas, it is nice to get back to routine (as much as I have one). I realized that last week with my mom and grandmas being here, I lost track of days, and as a result totally forgot about choir on Thursday. *ashamed look* So I'm going to have to make my apologies for that tomorrow. My laundry is also in a state, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to have another bout with the downstairs washers to see if I can improve on my last attempt. (Wrinkled clothes, here I come...)

But for the most part things have returned to normal, and I'm happy to be spending time with my host family again, and working on my studies, and preparing for the two tests I have this week (both of them essay ones, and both of them really glorified papers)

Magnus has asked me to come talk to his class next week on Thursday, and I'm quite excited, even if I have no clue what I'm going to say to them. He tells me that he wants me to go in with something to say as a starting point, and then they'll have questions to ask me. If any of you have ideas on what I should say, leave a note in the comments. I mean, how do you possibly represent the culture you've grown up with? Especially when I don't consider myself very typical, for good or ill. (mostly good, I'd think though).

I'm thinking my presentation will go something like this:
Hello, my name is Jennifer Crowley and I live in New York State. This is different from New York City. Yes, NYS and NYC are different things. I live near Albany, which is the capital of NYS. Why is Albany the capital yet not named after the state? Because having our capital in that Economic bustle would not be a good thing. On a good day I just am amazed that NYC even functions with all the people they have packed into it. Interesting fact: Albany, NY is one of three in the country. The other two are in Albany, Georgia (where they say the name the wrong way) and Albany, Oregon (where I don't know how they say it, because who goes there anyway?)

But seriously, what do you say when you're representing a country to Highschoolers? I'm afraid I'll have trouble just keeping their attention. The only thing I know for sure is I'm going to wear my American flag socks. And a white shirt. And bluejeans. And a red ribbon in my hair. Looking patriotic I can at least handle.

And that is an interesting thing. Americans wear their flag on their clotes all the time. The only time I've seen the Swedish flag being worn is on tourist clothing. I asked Magnus about it, and he says that you're normally seen as a nationalist if you wear the Swedish flag. And he said nationalist as if it was a bad thing, the same way as some of us say the word racist. Interesting. I must ask more about this.

Swedish Sauna

2007-10-08T20:48:00.000+02:00

Yesterday I took my first Swedish Sauna (pronounced saow-na, emphasis on the second syllable). It was a singular experience, and I have to admit, despite running a gamut of emotions, I enjoyed it... a lot.

My first impression of the Sauna? Lots of naked people. The Saunas themselves were separated by gender, with the Males in one and the Females in the other. The swimming area was co-ed, though there seemed to be an unspoken division between where each of the genders went into the lake.

But it was interesting. In the US there would be embarrassment, or the young boys who were there would giggle because people were... naked. Here it was just... that's how it was done. Nothing out of the normal. It was rather comforting, actually. I ended up deciding to "fit in" by not wearing a bathing suit, and I have to admit I liked the experience.

On another note, the water was COLD. But it was strange. You went in, and it was freezing, but then you would get out into the chilly air, and after a moment, you would be warm. Anita said it has something to do with the pores being open from the heat, and then when you hit the cold water they retract and get tight, so the heat stays trapped in your body, but either way, it was strange.

And it was also cool because each time I went into the cold water, when I got out I had this urge to giggle uncontrollably. Kind of the same giggle we get at camp from the people in the showers when the hot water suddenly runs out. Shrieks, and then giggles.

It left me with all these fun natural chemicals swimming around in my body, adrenaline, and happy chemicals.

And with a new impression of Swedish Habits and society. I like the fact that here nudity in certain situations... Saunas, locker rooms and certain pools or swimming areas, is ok. It's normal to see young children swim without clothes, and I have to say the whole pratice is rather convenient.

On the other side of the lake 3

2007-10-02T22:08:00.000+02:00

Then, it was five o’clock, and mom was like, “WE HAVE A HALF HOUR.” Underneath her words, she was like, I’m doing this because you want to, but we aren’t going to find anything because when I look I don’t find anything unless I spend a minimum or three day on it.

So, after convincing the Liberian that we knew what we were doing with microfiche, even though SHE didn’t… she left us in the room, looking dubiously at the crazy Americans.

We were methodical in our search. Mom got the first microfiche, I chose one at random. We knew his name Anders Erik, and we knew his birthdate, and there was 80 pages per slide. We knew the father’s name was Erik, because Anders Erik’s last name was Eriksson, and in Sweden at that time, patronymics(sp?) was in practice. And we were off.

Mom found the first reference, two microfiche later. But we couldn’t read everything on that one, but we got the Parish name and the Farm name from the entry, and the first letters of his parents.

Then, I just happened to have the next time bracket’s household surveys, and was looking at that farm when my mom came across her reference. Some searching with Grandma Edna looking over my shoulder, and WE FOUND HIM AGAIN… now with more brothers and sisters listed and the parent’s names clearer. We now knew that Erik Andersson and Majsa Svensdotter (sp?) were the parents of Anders Erik Eriksson, who had three brothers. We have enough information to continue our search, after being STUCK for several years. *Does victory dance*

Well, during all that searching we found out the library didn’t close until seven, so at six fifteen we left the library, and started our mad dash back to the Vargön, where the hotel was. Our reservation was at eight.

But I really really wanted to stop at some standing stones we had seen on our way to Visnums-Kil, so we stopped, took some quick pictures, and made it back to the hotel for twenty minutes until our reservation. Success! We had just enough time to change into some nice clothes and then we went to have our dinner. It was a five course meal… and really really yummy. The first course was Tomato Themed. There was a Tomato Salad, Tomato Sherbet and Tomato Soup. Normally I don’t like tomato soup, but this was quite good. The next course was a fish type thing in a dressing on a toast. It was… all right. Not as good as the soup. Then, there was a palette cleanser made of a type of icy serbet… but not quite. It was called “Orange Duet” (I liked the musical names the cook gave the different foods). We found out later from the chef it was shaved orange juice ice and shaved blood orange juice ice… specially prepared so that it wasn’t too sugary and didn’t freeze right.

The next thing was the main dish. It was duck, served over a Parmesan cheese, carrots, cabbage, risotto and yellow beets mix. *licks lips* It was the first time I’d had duck and liked it. It was really really really really really good. Very natural and just… tender and sweet and the contrast between the sweet duck and whatever it was glazed in (some type of fruity gaze), and the cheese… IT WAS GREAT.

(just conferred with my mom… found out the fish I ate was raw. Not bad for undercooked, I mean, uncooked meat)

Last, we had the ‘chocolate trio.’ There was a truffle infused with whiskey, and quite good- smooth and nice, and you couldn’t taste the whiskey at all. There was a chocolate mousse and a chocolate bar with nuts in it. The chocolate mousse had a white chocolate foam over it, and the bubbles were preserved by a protein. We found this out later when my mother got into a long discussion with the cook, who was also the owner of the restaurant. It’s funny, sometimes I forget how smart my mother is until she does something like this, and I’m reminded that in her own way, she’s just as valuable and educated as a doctor is.

By far my favorite part of the meal though was my grandmother’s antics. I’m fortunate that my grandmothers both get along quite well, and are really good friends. Actually, they give new meaning to the phrase “thick as thieves.” Well, at this formal restaurant, much to my mother’s mortification (well, not really, but she pretended like she was embarrassed) my grandmothers got into a giggle fit. It was great.

On the other side of the lake 2

2007-10-02T22:06:00.000+02:00

From Visnums-Kil, we decided to go to Trosö, because there was a really cool bridge there, and also a café my mother remembered and liked. The café was closed, but the bridge was beautiful, and there was a neat standing stone marking the bridge. The stone was much older than the bridge, but still both were cool.
At Trosö we went to Trosö Kyrka, where we knew that Hanna’s father, Anders Erik Eriksson was born. The problem was, we didn’t know his parents, because we couldn’t read the first Parish Register we obtained online of his birth. We were hoping to find a gravestone or some type of… something to help us get his parents names and/or find out where he worked before he got married and moved. Aka… the farm he worked on, or something like that.

While Mom and the Grandma’s were wandering the farm, I decided to go in the other direction because I was cold and the sun was shining on that side of the church. There I met a very nice Swedish woman who only spoke Swedish, and the gardener. In my broken Swedish I tried to tell them who we were looking for, and what we were doing there. Meanwhile, Mom and co. were off wandering around. Finally, they made it to me, and the gardener (who had been listening and silent) showed that he could speak a little English, and offered to let us in the church so we could look at it. We accepted gratefully. (I have pictures of all the different churches… postcards too)

Well, on the way out we encountered a daughter and her mother who were going to visit graves, and they gave us some helpful information. If we went to Mariestad Biblotek (Library) there were records of the parish books. They told us we might be able to look at the microfiche if we got there before six. It was then around three, and we had eaten breakfast at seven-thrity and a measly half cup of icecream at eleven. We were all DYING of hunger, and quite dizzy when we stepped out of the car in Mariestad. So we FINALLY got something to eat… but not TOO much, because we were having dinner at a nice restaurant at eight. There was a really really good raspberry crumb tort… it reminded me of the topping you put on apple crisp. They served the raspberry crumb tort warmed with vanilla sauce… it was similar to a vanilla pudding or custard, but like all Swedish candy, it wasn’t very sweet. It was yummy though.

On the other side of the lake

2007-10-02T21:28:00.000+02:00

Today we went to the other side of the lake, where relatives from the other side of my Grandmother’s family lived. Hanah Maria Eriksson, Grandma’s mother’s mother. She was the one that emigrated to Proctor, Vermont with her three children. And a year after (14 months) after she arrived, she died. She was buried in Proctor, Vermont, in the cemetery by the house I first lived in when I was born. (How creepy is that... the house was built on the site of the hospital, and when we moved to the area before I was born, my parents had no CLUE that she even came to that town. Mom didn’t start doing Genealogy for our Swedish family until later) Creepy creepy creepy.

So we went to Visnums-Kil Kyrka (church), which was the place my mother re-established three gravestones the last time she was here in Sweden, 2002. The graves where Hanah’s Mother and Father and Brother. (Emma Christina Carlsdotter; Anders Erik Eriksson; Otto Eriksson) It’s sad because when Otto, the baby of the family, went to America to go see his sister’s grave, and on the way back got sick and died, leaving his young family behind. Visnums-Kil was quite neat… They had some 13th and 14th century artifacts there that we could look at and read about, which was quite neat.

From there it was just a short drive past the new school and the old school (about a mile) to the Homestead Museum. We went to the Homestead, where we suspected that there was some information or buildings about Hanna’s mother, Emma. Emma stayed behind in Sweden even when all her family had emigrated to America, staying… somewhere. We suspect the house on the Homestead property, which was converted into a home for the old people, is where Emma spent her last days growing old. The couple there was very nice. We also got to see a bakery that had been moved from Kilsby Farm, where we know the family worked. On that farm, in Kilsby, is where Hanna was born in 1869.

After that we went to the Old Schoolhouse, where we know that all the children from Kilsby farm went to school. We know that Emma and her daughter Hannah both went to the school. The school was built in 1840.

From the schoolhouse we drove out to Kilsby and drove through the farm. There were a lot of little houses, all in various states of disrepair, but the timber was still there, so we could get an impression of what the farm had been like, if we could imagine away the forest.

On the way out of Visnums-Kil we stopped and took photos of someone who was raising (instead of cattle, goats or sheep)… deer. Or if not deer, then some type of reindeer. They had big racks (antlers) and were quite beautiful. I took pictures. Then we grabbed some icecream to hold us over because we were starving, but wanted to keep going. Besides, the food at the rest stop was rather… sketchy. My mother used the word… questionable. (generational differences in semantics)

Family History 2

2007-10-01T22:19:00.000+02:00

So the next place we went was Mildred’s old house, which is being fixed up by Håkan’s brother Rowland (who apparently is very well off and owns 5 houses all over the world). There we had fika, a wonderful Swedish tradition similar to teatime in Europe, except that it happens with coffee and it can happen both in the morning and at night… kind of a glorified coffee break. There we got to look at some really old pictures of some of our relatives (which I have on video and in pictures, since we weren’t able to copy the originals).

After having fika, we went to visit the farm that Zacharias was born on. As I said, the area was beautiful, and Håkan picked me a really unique flower that was purple with little dots on the underbelly and shaped like a trumpet or bell. I took pictures of it, but the camera didn’t want to focus on the flower *pouts* I want to find out what type of flower it was… it was simply beautiful.

Marion had arranged for a really neat craft museum to be open for us, where a couple had taken it upon themselves to preserve some of the handicrafts that were being done in the area. Marion had donated a sampler to the place (see picture), so she was able to get the owners to open it up and give us a tour. There was a loom, some really neat crocheting and lacework, and possibly my favorite thing, snow chains for bicycles. Yes, only in Sweden would the people be mad enough to ride their bikes in snowy icy weather that would call for bicycle snow chains.

After the craft museum we went to lunch… a welcome break because I was getting low on blood sugar and nearly falling asleep on Håkan as he drove us there. Next we went to a really neat place… Haverud, which is the only place in the world were there is both a road, train and water bridge all in one place. It was SO COOL. I got a postcard of it, in addition to video. Real Swedish innovation, along with being really creative and quite picturesque.

Then, off to a craft store that sold some really neat local crafts. At this point I was getting pretty tired, but I had just enough energy to peruse all four levels of the store and pick out some postcards and knickknacks to take back with me.

Finally, finally we went back to Håkan’s house, where we had a large fika or small meal, and then, Håkan surprised us with something he doesn’t show many people… the footage to his 50th anniversary. Then, we had to say goodbye to Håkan and Marion, for we won’t see them tomorrow, our last full day. I nearly cried, because it was so wonderful to meet such great relatives that were not only so kind and welcoming but so willing to work with me on my Swedish. They had great sense of humors, and even though by the end of the day I was feeling Swedish-Languaged out, they were just unflagging in their delight that I was learning their language. It was very heartening and humbling at the same time.

Family History

2007-10-01T22:15:00.000+02:00

Today was a day that focused on family and legacy. We met up with Håkan and Marion, our Swedish relatives that were showing us the side of the family that they had researched and known about. We got to see the foundation of the house my great-great-grandfather Zacharias was born in Färgelanda, which is north of Vänersborg, where Marion lives, and we are staying. It was situated between the two ends of a snaking lake, called Vrångsjön. I could easily imagine how at one point there were no trees, and the house looked over the whole of the lake (the entirety we could not see because of all the relatively new trees that were blocking the view). We found a wall, the original foundation, and some stairs that lead up to the house. The area that would have been inside the house was covered with a soft, cushy moss, and Marion said that most likely the thatched roof had fallen in, and the moss was covering it, since it needed relatively loose soil to grow.

But I get ahead of myself. We woke up early to get breakfast and head off to pick up Marion, who led us to where Håkan lived. Håkan raised horses for most of his life, and while he only had two now, at the biggest time he had 18… one of which was a horse which was the oldest in Sweden, at 37 years old (most horses only live until 25, apparently). Then, Marion, the grandmas and my mother got in one car, and Håkan and I went into the other. I was kind of nervous, because I hadn’t spoken to Håkan much the day before, but he was really enthusiastic about helping me with my Swedish, and later I found out that his mother (Mildred, who showed Mom and Grandma around before, and is since dead) had charged him with being the guide to show Americans relatives who came over their history.

The first place we went to was a graveyard in Färgelanda, where we took pictures of the different graves, including Joel Jacobson (brother to Zacharias, and Marion’s Grandfather) and his wife, Betty Svensdotter. We also took pictures of Marion’s father and mother, Carl Einar Johnson and Fanny Hansen. The final one, which I took the video of, was Edvard Jakobson and his wife Hulda Jonasdotter, which was the grandfather of Edith Avery (a woman who lives in Albany’s who’s daughter is Diane Kallner, and who’s grandson is TJ Kallner, my cousin who dated a friend of mine {Before we knew we were related}). The last important one is Zacharias’s mother’s grave, Anna Lisa Olson (which was really Olsdotter, married name Larson… as if it doesn’t get confusing enough).

Just a quick note

2007-10-01T22:05:00.000+02:00

Today Hokön and Marian showed us around where are family lived... some of the old churches and farmsteads. It was amazing, I have lots of video and photos, but I can't do anything until I get real Internet. Just wanted to say my mother, grandmothers and I are having a great time and living the Swedish life.

More on Wednesday when I get back to Stockholm.

Mom's Weekend Syndrome

2007-09-30T09:40:00.000+02:00

I can't write long because I'm using the hotel's computer, but I just wanted to give a quick update. I met up with mom at the trainstation no problem, and it was so AMAZING to see her and my grandmothers! Then we drove to where Marian is... our realitive who is also our connection to this area.

She was a sweetheart, although bossy in the way that only old people can be. She spoke to me as much as she could in Swedish... which was helpful, but also confusing because she has a different accent than all the other ones I've encountered. But when she slowed down and said what she said again, I could normally get the gist of what she was saying. I'm trying to pratice as much as possible.

She had baked a whole bunch of baked goods for us... trying to outdo her cousin who hosted my mother and Grandmother when they were there last. Incredible swedish treats... I enjoyed them a lot, and am dreading looking at the scale when I go back on Wednesday. I'll just have to do a bunch of walking to work it all off.

It's funny though, I find myself being at the same time overjoyed to see my mom, but at the same time weepy. I feel gald that she's here, but also angry becuase... I feel like she's interfering with my independence. I feel like I've done so much here, but at the same time, I haven't done enough. She's dong nothing to make me feel that way, but I reconize the feeling... I get the same feeling during Mom's Weekend at camp each year... still.

I complain, am alternately clingy and wanting to show her everything I've done. I'll wonder if she approves.

But for once, instead of just pulling all this stuff, I sat down with her this morning and told her ahead of time that I was feeling this way, and I was trying to deal with it.

Meanwhile, my crazy grandmothers are having the time of their lives, letting mom and I do all the organizing ('cause they can't read maps) and driving. We had fun last night going through all the pictures on my computer I took and also playing with my Swedish Language program I got, which I LOVE!

On a train to Goteborg

2007-09-29T12:15:00.000+02:00

So this is really my second time going on a train (there was one time I took a train from Charlotte to Raliegh, but it was an unpleasant experience I do not want to think about), but I'm going to count it as my first because this time it's so much better. So there.

This train is really nice... and I even bought an hour of the net 'cause I'm just that addicted to my computer. The seats are nicer than an airplane's, which was kind of what I imagined it to be like. The seats are also roomier... and I have the cheapest type of ticket I could buy... student, and the last class. I'm in a quiet zone, so there's no babies crying or people talking on their cell phones. All in all, pretty neat.

Sweden, I have come to discover, is a lot of farmland, or if not farmland, then timberland. When I first got here I went to the South of Sweden with my host family for a family reunion, and we drove through five hours of farmland. I'm noticing a lot of the same on the train ride. I ended up choosing to take the faster train, and we're going along at a nice clip... we're currently 20 minutes late, but they're trying to make up the time (I don't know how one would go about doing that... but it's nice that they informed us.) The nice lady that is sitting next to me keeps on translating the announcements for me after she found out I couldn't understand much Swedish, so at least I know what's going on.

I'm actually quite tired today, because yesterday I got my packing finished and then Gabe had some friends over. It's the same group of friends he seems to have over every week, five kids that have all paired up into three couples. There's Gabe and Viega, Dante and Tome (I think that's how you spell her name), Tomas and Linea. They're furn kids that do stuff like play games, cuddle, watch movies and bake when they get together. They remind me of my group of friends from HS... we'd all just get together and do random stuff like go to the roller rink and have a blast.

But the best thing about these kids (and don't get me wrong, I call them kids, but I consider myself a kid too in a lot of ways... they're only 3 years younger than me) is that they include me in what they do. They tailor their games so that they either speak English or so that I can learn Swedish words from what they're saying. Last night (and this morning, come to think of it) I showed Dante my workbook and explained to him how we're learning about their verbs. He looked so serious when he was looking ove the stuff- he's got a solid build and a very cut face- pale blue-grey eyes and a spill of Blonde hair that flops onto his forehead. His girlfriend Tome is always pushing it back from his face when she goes to kiss him. Anyway, He found it interesting because he doesn't think of his language's verbs in that way. It was only the ways we study it that there is type 1, 2, 3, and 4 verbs.

Tomas on the other hand, likes trying to stretch my language skills. Of all the people in the group, he's the one that is most interested in helping me learn the language, although that is and isn't saying much, because all of them make an effort to help me when I try to respond back in Swedish. But Tomas in the one that most often stops from time to time when there taking in Swedish and summarizes what is being said for me. Or he'll remind his girlfriend, Linea (who feels like she isn't that good at English, and often is self-conscious) to speak in English when she's addressing the group. He's also really quick of wit and has a killer smile- they type that just sneaks out of his face and lights his eyes.

It was funny last night, the group was discussing how Gabe and Tomas would make a really cute couple... I find it highly ironic that all the girls in this group have short boy's cuts, while all the boys have (beautiful) long hair down to their shoulders. Then, Tomas and Gabe trade a look, and they both get up and vanish. Well, they're gone for a long time, and we start speculating what they're doing in Gabe's room. And then they come out. They've both put some type of oil on their chests so that they gleam, and are wearing boxers rolled up to look like short-shorts and Suitcoats. They're saying "POSE, Pose, Pose," a line from a play we went to go see who had these two effeminate guys who were all over each other and would do the same thing. But the best ting about the whole getup was that they put SOMETHING in their pants to make it look like they have a enormous bulge, and they're fake making out.

We died laughing. I mean, that's how comfortable these kids are around each other.

Later that evening I had a long conversation with Tome about how Sweden actually trusts the government, and has more common sense than America. Sweden taxes the rich to level out the gap between the rich and the poor. I was telling her about a study done in America that surveyed people from the poor to lower middle class part of society and found that 80% of the people believed that by the time they had retired they would be in the high upper middle class bracket of wealth. I was telling here that there is a mentality in a lot of parts of America that you don't want to tax the rich too much... because one day you might BE one of them. The American Dream taken too far.

Tome had some really interesting things to say back to that. The least of which was, "WHAT?!?"

Lastly, we played a game similar to truth or dare, but it translated into more truth or challenge. People take turns have one person on the hot seat, and they ask them a question and the person has to answer that question, or they can ask for one other question. But if they ask for the second question, you have to answer that one. It was very casually played though, with not much peer pressure. Tomas's question for me was, "Would you rather be poor, addicted to alcohol but have friends, or be rich and know that you didn't have any real friends?"

I actually responded that I would want to be rich. Not because I want to live in comfort, per se, but just that I'm terrorified of being addicted to anything, especially something that robs you of your mind the way alcohol does. I'd much rather be in control of my faculties and be friendless than be so worn and ravaged by alcohol.

I asked silly questions, and I'm not sure that the people I asked them of realized they were silly. My favorite was when I told Gabe, "The world is in danger, you have to save it with one kitchen utensil. What would it be?"

He took it much too seriously, and was asking, what was the danger, how could he save the world with a kitchen utensil... and just I think it went over his head, if that makes sense. He finally said he'd have an oven so he could distill water, which would be good to give people who didn't have clean water. Then we went around and some of the other people answered it. Dante would want the biggest knife he could find, Tome would want a seltzer maker (these great devices they have to make their own fizzy water) so she could use them to charge up bottles and then shoot the compressed water at people.

Soon after, I went to bed, 'cause it was three in the morning and I wanted to get up at 7:30.

Well, we're almost there and my hour is almost up.

I have a shift key!

2007-09-29T08:24:00.000+02:00

This causes me great joy.

So I'm getting ready to go to Goteborg tomorrow to meet up with my mom and grandmas... lots of fun.

Today I had my first Swedish test, and I'm fairly certain I got a good grade on it. I'm trying really hard, and all the Swedes I meet seem surprised when I try to talk to them in Swedish. It's still obvious I'm American, but I'm trying to learn.

I found this great program this week that has been helping me learn Swedish words fairly quickly with really good retention. It's called "Before You Know It" So that helped too.

I'm sure there's more to write about, but I need to pack, so I'll write more tomorrow.

Wrapping up the week

2007-09-28T11:01:00.000+02:00

So on my last day in Visby, I ended up finally walking around the wall. This was nice because I found a place on the wall that I could climb up to, which worked out wonderfully for taking some pictures of the city and also for playing with the timer function on my camera. I'll hopefully get the pieced together panaromas up in the next few days.

I haven't posted the rest of this week because I had a Swedish test that I was panicing about. I just took it, and she gave us two hours to take it.... I ended up taking 45 minutes. It wasn't easy, but I knew most of the stuff, and it was mostly a case of knowing it or not knowing it. I don't expect to get a 100, but neither do I expsect to get a 70. We'll see, being the first test I've taken over here, I'm not sure how it went.

This week I'm excited because I'm taking a train across Sweden to Goteborg, to meet up with my mur, farmur, and murmur (swedish for mother, father's mother (aka paternal grandma) and mother's mother (maternal grandma). I like how swedish has a name for almost every time of relation. There's a word for your cousin's cousin. How sweet is that? I'm sure it makes things less confusing.

The other reason I haven't posted is because a book fell on Daram, my keyboard, resulting in two keys falling off. And no, they don't go back on, something broke off of them. Luckily, the warenty on the computer that my parents got me (knowing how accident prone I am) covers damage like that, so I called up the Swedish Dell place and they're sending me someone to put on a new keyboard.

And then I can write more.

'cause right now I'm using a swedish keyboard and the keys are different and it confuses me.

But such is life.

So I'll write more later once I've packed and got my keyboard fixed.

Even more of me

2007-09-25T12:24:00.000+02:00

Yeah, so here's the last of them, for now.

And my view from the wall, plus my face way too close and a rather halfhearted wave...

And now for me (playing with my camera is dangerous)

2007-09-24T21:54:00.000+02:00

I haven't gotten all the footage of me up, so here's what I've got thus far.

Realize, extreme corniness is going to follow, seeing as this is the first video I've ever taken of myself.

And the second one.

Stay tuned for more as I get it uploaded to youtube!

More adventures in Visby, Video Style

2007-09-24T21:45:00.000+02:00

This video is of the Medieval dinner we had. Short and Sweet.

This is of a skeleton of a Female Viking that they dug up. All I could think of when I saw her jewelry, keys and knife is that for a Viking Woman, she was pretty rich to be buried with that stuff. I thought of Gangsters today.

But on a different note, I've always had this strange fascination with bones, with the graceful curve of skull and hip.

So here we go.

Last one here is of my favorite standing stone... made about the time Egyptians were alive, I think. They think there is some Egyptian influence in the boat, presumably to take people to the underworld.

My adventures in Visby

2007-09-24T21:36:00.001+02:00

So this first one is of a grave we saw in one of the churches. I'm trying this post out with this one to see if it works before I get to the meatier stuff.

Oh, and Guthar and Gunnar are the same person. Gunnar is the right way to spell his name

2007-09-23T10:26:00.000+02:00

That took most of the day, and we got back around three. We had just under an hour to freshen up and take showers if we were so inclined, and then it was back on the bus to go to a Viking Village. Daniel had been talking about this village all weekend, he was so excited. It ended up being quite cool, a neat mix of being geared toward tourists while still having historically accurate details. We got to wear Viking clothing over our own clothes, and the differences between the brown ‘dresses’ and the brown with purple ‘dresses’ divided us into teams. The first thing we had to do was create a cheer. Ours went as such:

We are the Slashers, the Stockholm Slashers

And we will eat you all for dinner,

We will pillage your village

And eat you with a side of vegetables!

Slashers, Slashers, Slashers

HUH!

Needless to say, it was amazing.

Then, we competed in such activities as spinning with a drop spindle (Guess who dominated that sport… you’re right… ME! Heh. And people say it’s a dying art), making a chain out of chain links, building a ‘house’ with pegs and wood, measuring in Göteborg Units (a real measurement that fell out of use 200 years ago), archery (I also dominated that sport, being the only person out of us to have both arrows hit the target… YEY for summer camp and teaching archery!), and throwing axes (I was quite bad). It was a lot of fun. I have some good pictures.

Next was dinner… again without silverware, this time without even knives. We had roast lamb, really roasted over a fire, and even the split skull was there! It was quite yummy. Then, after dinner we performed skits based off of a runic inscription we had to interpret. Our skit was quite funny, one because we had the characters, and then separate people who were the voices, so females were male voices, and it looked like bad Chinese dubbing. Ours was about Jack, from jack and the beanstalk, and how he goes to the heavens and finds a giant and Thor, god of thunder, fighting. After explaining that giants were an endangered species, Jack tricks the two into stopping fighting and leaving heaven so Jack can have heaven to himself. We also had pregnant pauses and other amusing stuff.

It was hilarious at the time, and since the humor isn’t something that can be explained, just trust me… I nearly peed my pants laughing.

After that we had a game where two people sat on a round log over mattresses and whacked each other with pillows until one fell off. It’s harder than you’d think… but I think girls have an advantage with their distribution of body weight. I actually won, surprising since I felt like the whole time I was going to fall off. I didn’t get pictures of me, but I got some great ones of other people.

So now the night’s over, we ended the Viking Village soon after, and headed home. Some people went to the pool and the sauna, but I forgot my bathing suit so I didn’t do that. I think most people are going out partying, but I’m planning on taking a shower and heading to bed… yes, eleven being relatively early, but for me pretty late. I’ll post this tomorrow, because I’m too lazy to do it now.

Hopefully tomorrow morning I can try to do my walk again.

Yesterday

2007-09-23T10:17:00.001+02:00

I have decided that people don't read long posts, and because this is a long post, I'm going to divide it into two.

I was planning today to go walking around Visby in the morning and walk the wall that surrounds the city, but when I looked out the window I could see it was raining, and I decided against that idea. I wasn’t going to deal with the cold and rain in order to get my walk. So instead I went back to bed and slept for another hour. A good thing, because the day was packed full of stuff, so much so that I’m worried that I’m going to forget some of what we did.

We had breakfast, and left a nine to head out to look at some Medieval churches in the countryside. We passed Pippi Longstocking’s house, but we didn’t get to actually see it, much to my disappointment. We made our way to where ferry boats can take you across to Fåro (pronounced Fah *rolled r* oh) a nearby island. There we visited another church. This church is special because it is where Ingmar Bergman is buried. We got to see his grave. For those of you who don’t know, Ingmar Bergman is a Swede that created these very creepy movies that are very artsy and famous. The people of the island are extremely loyal to him, going to the point of misdirecting tourists who wanted to see where he lived. Bergman apparently was very generous to the community and also very private. However, Gunnar knew him personally, as did most of the people on the island, it being very small with the exception of when the tourist season happens. We made our way to one of the limestone beaches were we went climbing on rocks and enjoyed all the really cool fossils in the stones. (See pictures… I’ll post them later)

Meanwhile the whole time Gunnar told us stories about the countryside, ghosts that haunted churches, trolls that would come avenge themselves on you if you did them or their farm any wrong or violated a grave. We stopped at an amazing little bakery that made really good baked goods and had quiche. We got to see some people thatching a roof, and a bunch of windmills. Then we stopped at another beach were I went wading and took a bunch of pictures.

On the way back we stopped at a place where there were these standing stones formed in the shape of “boats” that were a type of grave, and other stones that made circular graves. Gunnar told us more about the two-foot tall trolls that fiercely guard the holy sites in Sweden against evil people or forces that would seek to destroy them. He also told us about how the landscape of the islands is created because of the livestock that live there… they keep most the trees from taking over the fields by eating them.

Then he took us to… well, the best description of it would be a cairn. It was a great stone mound with a crater in the center. According to Gunnar they are graves of very important people. It’s interesting, in Viking history there are all these amazing buildings and graves, and then later the society seems to have regressed- we can only guess why. Perhaps there was a disease that wiped out a large part of the population and the people could no longer create the great cairns that they liked to… perhaps a war happened or there was a great change that caused them to regress. But it was very fascinating to listen to Gunnar talk, in part because Gunnar has ties all over the island. He also has a brother who is an archaeologist, as has a result knows a lot about the island.

He was a really good tour guide. I’m going to write him a thank-you note.

2007-09-22T23:12:00.000+02:00

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My first day in Visby in Gotland, a part of Sweden

2007-09-21T21:25:00.000+02:00

Today was an amazing day. I woke up ridiculously early- 5:30 so I could be out of the apartment by 6am and be at T-Centralen by 6:30. I was late because the train was late, but it ended up being all right. We caught a cab, got to the airport, checked in, and by eight we were in the air, and by nine we had landed. A short busride, and we were in Visby.

Visby, I think, has become my favorite city I have ever been to by far. Ridiculously old, it was built by a peaceful version of Vikings. (I might insert more here as I read my guidebook)

But history aside, the town is all wonderful cobbled streets and old houses so that you feel like you’ve stepped back into time. There’s a sea breeze that blows through the streets, so that even when you’re hiking around and are overdressed because you thought you’d be cold, you stay a nice temperature. There’s roses springing out of the most unlikely places, like the cracks between sidewalks and the bases of buildings. Apple trees hang over walls that surround gardens and small little parks are nestled between buildings or in “squares” (because most of them aren’t really square). The roads are meandering and haphazard, apparently similar to the setups of Viking towns in other parts of Europe.

Right now there are hardly any people on the streets, and there’s a peace that is only broken by the passing of cars down streets that should be too small for them to maneuver. It’s a close fit in places, but the natives seem to know what they are doing when driving. Sometimes the cars take you by surprise, expecially when exiting one of the older buildings, because you feel like modern things have no place in the town. But somehow Visby has succeeded (for the most part) with meshing old and new.

We had a tour by a man named Guther (although pronounced in the Swedish fashion so the name sounded much more musical.) It’s interesting… He is a really old man, and remembers when Visby’s main language was German and you took English in the schools. Now, (as he puts it) the Germans lost the war, and we speak Swedish. Visby has a particular multicultural history, in that at the height of its prosperity (that is, it’s Medieval Prosperity) eighteen different nationalities were represented – and they traded with people as far as Mesopotamia.

Guther is our guide for the weekend, and today treated us to a tour inside of the city walls. I have lots of footage (today I discovered my camera had a video feature… guess what I’ve been doing?) and pictures of the churches and houses he took us to- many of which aren’t open to the public during the main season, and you have to know someone to get you into them during the off season. We got to see a lot of places that my Visby Guidebook says are off limits… kind of cool, huh?

Don’t worry, I’ll upload the footage when I figure out how.

The highlights of the trip included our visit to a house that had paintings instead of tapestries on all the walls depicting beautiful scenes of various hunting and biblical passages. We got to go into the inside of one of the towers and went into several ruins of churches… they were both beautiful and haunting, and somehow they were more powerful to me than going into the church that has been maintained that was built around the same time. I felt like the ruins were like skeletons, the flesh melted away but the bare, pale bones and ribs pointed to the heavens like a giant that simply died.

One of the great other things about having Guther as a tour guide was not only his knowledge (ghost stories) and island connections, but also the fierce pride he had for the architecture on the island, and the enduring ability of these structures. He pointed out that the houses and things we build today will hardly be there 500, 1000 years from now. Sometimes things like these make me wonder how much we’ve progressed, and if historians that look back at us will say, yes, they had great technical advances, but this was a time when art and architecture went stagnant. Simply because there’s no buildings that lasted.

Sure, now we might look and be like, yes, this was a time of sickness and war and they lived with relatively little technical advancements, but look at what they were able to achieve with the little they had. I mean, the rune stones we saw today told stories of a boy who decided to go home over the dangerous rapids while his brothers went overland. He died… his pride to prove that he was able to do better than his older brothers the lasting impression we have of him. (ok, so I added the last bit about his pride and having to prove stuff, but really, how much have things changed?)

Another highlight was at lunch we went to a medieval restaurant, ate on bread trenchers, only had a knife, and ate like we would have if we were at a formal meal in medieval times. The food was quite good, and it was a lot of fun, if a bit messy.

I’m thinking of waking up early tomorrow and seeing if I can walk around the edge of the town and follow the wall around Historic Visby, since I don’t think I’ll be able to do it otherwise. I’ll have to resist taking pictures, because I’ve almost used up a while GB in one day. Some of that was filming, but not that much. I have SOOO many pictures. I don’t know which ones I’ll be able to choose to put up here.

So after lunch we finished the tour (a few more churches and some ghost stories) and we had freetime until dinner. I took the opportunity to go to a Nordia bank and cash my check. Then I went to the one still functioning church from the mideval times, and after that I went through some charming tourist stores, culminating in me going to a handicraft store and caving. I got myself a hat trimmed in lamb’s wool, and also a pair of slippers. I badly wanted a pair of gloves also, but I had to resist. There might be other things I want to buy the rest of my stay here.

I did also get an obscene amount of postcards to add to my incipient collection, and also some tour books that have info that I think is interesting. I thought one of them might also make a good gift.

Dinner was in a monk’s tavern, and now I’m going to work on my English Essay (due Monday, along with a bunch of reading) that I’ve been procrastinating doing by writing this entry. Hey, this journal and my cultural experiences is just as important!

*wink*

I have to leave for gotland in five minutes

2007-09-21T05:51:00.000+02:00

But I wanted to leave you something happy before I disappear for the weekend.

Do you feel like working today?
no

Tomorrow?
no

The day after?
no

Next week?

no
Next Month?

no
Me neither!
I just want to party!

You...

....have a GREAT Day!!!

*snickers* I got it from dad.

A Doozy of a Day

2007-09-20T22:26:00.000+02:00

The funny thing about today was, I was looking forward to today so much, and it was just the culmination of a rough week.

I'd had a rough week of classes and just feeling off and rather lonely... not surprising considering I've only been here just under a month, and everyone speaks a different language. Last night I was supposed to work at the pub, but after classes that went from 8-6pm, I was tired, feeling antisocial and just not fit for human consumption. In a totally irresponsible act, I told them I didn't feel well and went home. There, I found nobody home (both a mixed blessing) and my host mother (in her typical fashion) had made a vegitarian-friendly dinner. Now, I've been good for the past few weeks. My family is happily carnivorous, and while we do eat vegetables, our meals tend to be fairly... simple. Some might even say boring. And my host family... well, they like to sample from every culture under the sun. The result is I've been exposed to a lot of new foods in the past few weeks... all unfamiliar, and while some of them were good, some of them I just can't decide if I like or not. But I've been flexible. I've tried things.

But last night I came home to a pot filled with... something. I wasn't quite sure what it was. It was virulent looking- a shade of red somewhere between vermilion and cranberry that was just asking to be spilled on my white shirt. It almost looked like... watered down blood in vibrancy of color with an undertone of pink instead of brown. And (to me) it was of a similar consistency- pureed into a soupy, thick mixture.

And I was good. I tried it. And while it wasn't bad, I sat there eating it, and suddenly, all I wanted was simple, easy chicken with corn and mashed potatoes. I ended up bawling, spilling on myself (I KNEW IT- luckily I changed my shirt), and crying even harder. I made myself boiled eggs, and indulged myself by not only eating the whites, but the yolk too. And then I ate some cashews and cried some more.

When my home stay mother came back later, I was recovered, and she insisted I try the soup again... this time with lemon and sour cream in it. Apparently it's made out of beets or radishes... I never could figure out which one, but I ended up liking it even less, on a totally emotional level.

So today I was looking forward to just a chill day where I could wash my clothes, do some work, and rest my mind. And I got on the scale this morning.

Now, I should also mention this. I've been avoiding my scale because it is low on batteries, and because my eating has been, quite frankly, out of control. I've all my life eaten to cope, especially with social problems. It probably goes back to all the moving I did as a child, and each time I found myself struggling to make friends, and being quite miserable, I ate to feel better. Now, for the last year I've been on Weight Watchers, and I've lost around 50 lbs (it's less now because I've been gaining, but that was at my best point). I'm coming to terms with the fact that for me, eating is an addiction, an unhealthy way I cope with being unhappy.

Well, anyway, I got on the scale this morning to find that I've gained eight pounds in the last four weeks. I've sensed and known that I've been gaining, but not this much. Needless to say, this depressed me quite a bit.

So that put a shadow on my day.

And I was still feeling low from last night.

So I worked up my resolve throughout the day, and decided that when I went out to cash my food subsidy check, I would also make another attempt to find Weight Watchers (called here ViktVaktarna). I very deliberately got directions, and set out.

Well, I got lost when trying to find the Bank, and ended up at their OFFICES, instead of a real bank. The lady at the offices was nice enough to tell me how to get to the bank, but by the time I got there, they had closed. I was four minutes too late. So now I don't have my food subsidy money. That whole process took an hour and a half. I thought it was only good to take 30 minutes, tops.

So I was now late going to ViktVaktarna. I had built in 30 minutes to find the place before they opened 30 minutes before the meeting started, because the place looked on the map a little difficult to find. Plus, not being able to read Swedish, I had difficulty with signs. Now I was racing to just get there for the meeting.

Guess what? Turns out there is a Kungstagatan and a Kungsgatan... and they are on opposite sides of the city. When I had went to get directions, I had went for the wrong street. TWO HOURS LATER, I give up, sit in a park, totally utterly lost, and try to call my mother to see if she can find where I am with Google maps, and help me get to Weight Watchers. No luck. I give up. Now I try to call my dad so I can have some help just calming down. No luck there either.

An old lady with a dog as big as she is comes over and tries to ask what is wrong (I think) but she doesn't speak any English, and I can only understand one word she's saying: du (you). She pats me on the back and eventually leaves. And then i go buy a Snickers bar and one of those really yummy rolls that you can buy at 7-eleven's in Sweden.

When old ladies in parks come to ask you if you're all right, you know you're at the lowest of low. Finally, I felt I'd gotten enough control of myself enough that I could ride the subway without getting undue attention. (Turns out I was wrong, I kept on getting strange looks from the silent people all dressed in dark clothes that looked at the crazy American who was rude enough to show undue emotion on the Subway of all places!)

Well, I took a look on the map to the subway and realized that the process of my getting lost had taken me about FIVE SUBWAY STOPS from where I started out. Trust me, it means I had walked a really far way.

And you know what, I leave the station, and the next one I pull into... Kungstagatan. Right there. After I'd spent two hours looking for it, and another thirty minutes bawling because I couldn't find it.

I got out, went to weight watchers, and went through the great experience of having a bunch of Swedish women look at me as if I was a novelty. AN AMERICAN? Who did Weight Watchers in the states? Let me see.

And I couldn't even stay for the meeting because I had to go to choir. And turns out they use a different system that I don't now how to use because I can't read the materials and I couldn't stay for the meeting. I dash to choir, (get lost again) find the place, and NOBODY's there.

I go back to the apartment. My host family mother tells me they're probably starting later because the director can't be there tonight. I GO BACK... and only the two guys are there. They're really nice, and try to include me, and I try to sing along, but I've only sang mostly classical, and mostly off of sheet music, and these guys are just picking tunes of of a song their listening to. Well, they try to include me, and I try to participate, and I end up having fun despite feeling like an ass because I don't know what I'm singing.

Right now, things are looking pretty down. I'm leaving for Gotland in the morning, and I have to be at the meeting space for 6:30... which means I need to be up obscenely early. I'm all packed (for the most part) and I'm hoping this all works out. I want to have fun, and I want to turn things around. I know part of the reason I'm feeling low is because I'm about to have my period, and another reason is because of my eating, and also just plain culture shock (which they warned us about but I didn't believe in).

So I'm heading to bed, and I'm hoping I'll have a better outlook in the morning.

That's all for now.

I got a package from my boyfriend... and I opened it on the subway... that was a mistake

2007-09-18T23:16:00.000+02:00

So this morning before classes I got up a bit earlier to pick up my package from the mail distrabution center. It means I had to carry it around all day, but the other consequence was waiting until tomorrow to pick it up because today it would close before I could go. So I got it just before I got on the subway to go to school.

Picture this: Me, on the subway. Everyone acting acording to the Swedish unwritten code "tho shalt not talk on the subway unless you're with friends, and tho shalt not speak loudly enough to attract undue attention". An old lady had already shushed the man beside her because he was speaking on his phone too loud and that was 'very rude.' (or at least, that is what I think she said. I got the very but it might have been very loud or very _fill in blank_) And then I FINALLY get all the tape off using an old fashioned key (not the new types because the key to the appartment has one of those old fashioned keys that don't really have sharp points to them) and a ballpoint pen and my crocheting hook. I pull back the cardboard.

A sudden squeal.

The old lady looks over, and I can feel her stare pressing into my back. That... forigner is making noise. (yes me) and getting quite excited about... *the old landy cranes her head to look* a doodle bear and butterfly stickers. And strange american candy in much too bright colors. (Swedish candy is much more subtle, less bright colors. You can tell what brands are imported and which ones are made in Sweden. Look at Tolberone for example... again, it all goes back to the belief that all Swedish people have that nobody is better than anyone else, and assuming your better than anyone else is rude and arrogant. It translates into Swedes believing that drawing attention to yourself is very rude. In contrast to the belief in American where we go, "how dare you think that I'm not as good as you!" We think that you should put yourself forward, make your own way, be an individual.)

But back to the old lady. She glares at me.

*snickers*

Needless to say, I was quite delighted by the package. Went around with a dopey expression on my face all day. As one of the girls on my program said when I told her the box was from my boyfriend and I showed her what was in it... "Somebody loves you a lot" I could only nodd and grin. I have to think of something cool now to send my boyfriend.

I haven't listened to the mix he sent me yet, but I now know what my breakfast is going to be tomorrow morning (grits that were in the package), and each morning for the following days. Or perhaps I'll save it for special occasions. YEY GRITS! And I don't know where he got the stickers, but each time I see them I'm convinced someone knows me very well, but not only that, but is very very very thoughtful. I feel very loved.

Well, I have a lot of reading I need to get done, payment for my work on my story last night. *Must get to it*

PS: But the best thing about the package? After I told my boyfriend about the Italian guy flirting with me on the subway, he sends me a list of all the different languages he can think of, each one saying "I have a boyfriend" Or "I'm taken." It made me giggle each time I looked at it.

The promised pictures of the Cruise to Finland

2007-09-18T21:25:00.000+02:00

I've been remiss in my blogging

2007-09-18T14:07:00.001+02:00

So I'm trying to remedy that now. I'm also procrastinating... but then, I think that's the only time I blog.

So what has been happening lately? My host family is amazing. The oldest of the two boys has been including me in a lot of stuff, whenever his friends come over. I've joined a choir, the Monkey Club (which includes my first expierence with bartending), actually worked on my proposal and have gotten into the swing of things.

I've gotten propositioned by an Itallian guy on the Subway who called me 'bella' and was quite charming. He kissed my hand.

Last sunday I went to a folk dance and a guy picked me up (I was rather clueless until the end). I felt bad telling him he could call me as a friend, but I had a boyfriend. I actually haven't told SG about the pickup expierence after what happened when I told him about the Itallian guy (SG compiled a list of every language he could speak of, and sent it to me. The topic of the list? How to say 'I have a boyfriend/I'm taken' in as many langages as he could translate. Cute, but he also told me he felt rather helpless when he was halfway around the world).

I've learned and held my first rudimentary conversations in Swedish, and on Sunday (it was a busy weekend) I went to my homestay father's parents' house and held a pretty good conversation with the mother, who speaks about as much english as I do Swedish. I'm pushing myself hard, even though it's really really tedious and really really HARD.

I also on Saturday went to a muscial- a swedish modern intrpretation of the Jungle Book. Facinating, and I didn't understand much of what was being said, but there was lots of visual and music jokes that I got, and the music was cool.

I had some low points last week where I was really struggling and feeling like I was isolated. It helped though on Thursday I went on a day cruise with the Monkey Club. It was a fun trip and I enjoyed the time I spent with the group. There were a few rough moments for me- people were drinking, though not to excess, and I felt really guilty because in the States I wouldn't be allowed to drink. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but I've come to realize that drinking is not as big of thing as it is made to be in the States.

Each day I'm learning more about the culture... through politics, and the otherall way Swedes think. I want to note here that any genrelzations I make here are just that... I'm genralizing, and as such I might not be correct at times. Still, I think some of my observations are valid.

I'm still planning to get some photos up here, but my internet access is limited, and I have lots and lots of reading to do. Most people go aborad for a break in academics... not happening for me.

So that's the crash course on what's happening, I'll try and get up more later like my yarn adventures and some cultural observations.

The Finland Cruise

2007-09-13T20:37:00.000+02:00

So I was a little concerned going into the cruise because:

1.) I didn't really know these people and I was going to spend the next 12 hours hanging out with them on a boat.

2.) I had heard the cruises described as "Booze Cruises," because the ships are Duty Free Zones, so the Swedes take the time to buy alcohol that isn't taxed up the wazoo. They also bring a lot of that alcohol back with them.

3.) This was taking a bit of a risk for me and I often over think these types of things. I was also missing out on choir to go on this, and I hadn't been entirely honest about the fact that I was missing choir to go on a cruise. They didn't have any problem, and I didn't like, I just moved the truth around a little.

It ended up being a lot of fun. The group of people were very accepting of the fact that I didn't like fizzy drinks, and thus didn't really like drinking beer like most of them were doing. They didn't drink to get drunk... they got a little tipsy but that is an improvement from what I've been exposed to at college.

I actually struggled with my morals a lot on this trip. I don't drink in the US- other than having a sip or there to try something. It's illegal, and I don't like how drink lowers your IQ and impairs your thought process. My brain is one of my favorite attributes. So I wasn't quite sure how to conduct myself on the cruise. Part of me wanted to have and drink alcohol, because I was curious. Also, because at school I'm known for not drinking, but here nobody had a previous opinion of me.

Well, my curiosity got the better of me, and I ended up having two Strawberry Daiquiri's, which to my senses did nothing, but they were the only alcohol I drank on the whole trip. I also bought some Bailey's Irish Cream (because I love that stuff) and some cognac, which I've been wanting to try. I haven't yet, I figure I'll save it.

Then came the doozy. The group did buy beer- in bulk for all the parties they might have in the future. They might also sell it at a minor profit.

But all in all the trip was nice. While we were hanging out during various parts of the trip I attempted to learn Swedish songs, and they sang a bunch of English songs like "Wild Rover" which I love and enjoy. One of the guys brought his miniature guitar, (which has a name starting with a U that I can't remember or spell) and played accompaniment to different stuff. I shared with them my rendition of "Biddy McGraw." They thought it was quite amusing.

Later, I mentioned I had brought my flashcards with me, and one of the guys insisted on helping me with them, by also telling me cultural impressions of the words, and also telling me if there was any way to make the word dirty. *snickers* It was a lot of fun.

Lastly, I got some great pictures that I'll share with you, but in the next post, because I don't want them to squish this post.

Cubb

2007-08-25T14:05:00.000+02:00

Never did get to working on the proposal. Instead, I worked on my Swedish some more and then crashed into bed.

Yesterday and the day before I was in the Archipelago. I took lots of pictures, which I might upload later on when I send out my first “Jen in Sweden” letter. The island we stayed at was beautiful, and it was really neat to get to know a bunch of the group. It seems like we’re already separating into cliques, some of which intersect. There’s those that smoke and those that don’t among the girls. Then there’s the boys that are willing to throw themselves into stuff- they nicknamed themselves the “Band of Brothers.” The rest of the boys are rather reserved.

I learned a game called cubb, which I think might end up being the highlight of my week. What happens is there’s six short blocks on each side of the playing field, and in the middle there’s a King. Two teams line up on either side and take turns trying to knock the blocks down by underhand throwing six batons at the blocks to try and get them to fall over. When you’ve gotten all of your other sides blocks over, you go for the king in the middle. Much like pool, if you knock over the king before the end, you loose. There’s various other rules that make the game more amusing and complicated, but still, that’s the gist of it.

We had a lot of fun playing the game, quite possibly because there was nothing else to do on the island except light a fire when it got dark, go swimming in the freezing cold water, go walking around the island (which was rather small), or play cards. There’s only so much walking around the island you can do, and the water was only for the brave or brazen souls, so the rest of us contented ourselves during the daylight hours with cubb and cards.

I got to know a lot of people, the names of which mostly escape me now, but I figure I have a week to cement the names. I’ve found some girls that are a bit more outgoing, and aren’t smokers, who seem nice and are willing to include me in on things. I find that between getting to know all the people on the trip, and not being able to speak Swedish, I’ve gotten quite a bit quieter in the past days. I’m hoping as my mastery of the language gets better and as I meet and know the people in the group better, I can feel comfortable to be myself. But I’m still in the stage where I’m quiet hesitant and am more content to listen and ask questions than to tell my own stories.

It hasn’t quite hit me yet that I’m in Sweden. Yes, people speak a different language around me, but because I don’t understand it, I tend to tune it out. Well, except for the music. 50% of the music is either in English or another language other than Swedish… and 50% is Swedish. I get quite excited when an English song comes on, because I know at least the chorus to most of them.

I found out that Gabriel, or Gabe (Gah-beh, emphasis on the second syllable) as he likes to be called, sings in a choir. I’m hoping I can join up with a choir here, and sit in the back happily singing and being mostly anonymous. I feel like that would be something consistent I could get involved in, though there are other opportunities that I want to take advantage of also. Apparently there’s a planning committee for the Nobel Prize after party that the college take turns helping plan.

On another note, I did something stupid. I had my rain jacket and sweatshirt with me when I went to the islands, but I forgot to switch them to the other bags when I briefly stopped back at the apartment before going to here. I didn’t notice it last night, but it’s chilly today and I’m regretting not having any coat with me. I don’t even really have a long sleeve shirt.

I’ll finish later. Anita and I are taking a short walk now outside.

First Day in Sweden

2007-08-22T14:04:00.000+02:00

So today was my first day in Sweden. Already I’ve learned some important phrases.

Talk- thank you.

God morgon- good morning

God dag- good day

God middag- good afternoon

God afton- good evening

God natt- good night

My host family seems nice. Chill. The apartment is decorated in a very modern, simplistic manner. It feels spacious even though it is rather cramped, still, there are four bedrooms, a bath tub, a shower, two toilets and three sinks. There’s a small kitchen and a dining/sitting room.

I haven’t figured out the money system yet. I exchanged my money, but I still don’t know what to do with it… I figure that will come with time. Right now I’m looking out over the city of Stockholm, and there is a hot air balloon floating over the horizon. I’ll have to get some pictures of the skyline uploaded.

Right now I’m struck by similarities and differences. The plants Anita and Magnus (my home stay mother and father, though I’m not sure if they are married and I’m not brave enough to ask… yet) have in the apartment are similar to the ones in our house, they have a Christmas cactus, a peace lilly, a tree that I often see in people’s houses back home and other cactuses. They drive on the same side of the road, Samuel listens to English-speaking music which is similar to the music we listen to.

However, the roads are paved in a red type of tar- the edges outside of the lines are the normal type of tar. I wonder if it is a type of paint. The subway is much cleaner. Tonight for dinner we had Tai-esque food, similar to the food I’ve seen some of my really liberal families eat. They use tofu. I don’t know if it is because any of them are vegetarian, or just because.

I feel exhausted. I slept for most of my journey, still, I’m several hours short of my normal amount that I sleep. I’m trying to stay up at least until nine, which is 45 minutes from now. I have to get up around seven.

Tomorrow and the next day I’m going to the archipelago to one of the islands and staying there overnight with the program. Then when I come back I turn right around and go visit some family of Magnus. It’ll be interesting… I’ll be surprised if I’m not falling over after that. I’ll have to make up some flashcards to practice while I’m gone. I really really really want to make an effort to learn as much Swedish as possible, especially before classes start. At least then I’ll have some type of grounding to base everything on. Pratice, pratice, do it again… over and over until you get it!

I mean, what else do I have to do with my time?

Oh yeah, work on my proposal. *rolls eyes* Well, I’ll get to that. Right now I need to talk to Magnus about where I’m going to meet him on Friday to go visit his family.