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.

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

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.