Feeling like a fish in a fishbowl

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.

Cubb

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.