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

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!

Ugh- Day Two

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

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.

Grrrr

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*

My Field Trip to the City Hall

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.)

Small things make me happy

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

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.

Representing America... wait, ME?!?

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

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.

The Swedish Propensity to wear Scarves

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.

Getting back to Routine

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.

Mom's Weekend Syndrome

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

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!

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.

Even more of me

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...

Yesterday

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.

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

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

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

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.

The Finland Cruise

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.