A New Day

There is one delightfully unexpected characteristic of Sweden in Winter. It's not the interminable aspect of it or that one day can be tantalizingly near zero and the next miles from it. No, the birds in Sweden are quite vocal despite the freezing, often dreary weather. If I don't look out the window, I could swear it were spring. Maybe I just never listened in America, but do the birds sing in winter?

Today is a new day because the sun is shining so forcefully through my window that I had to lower the blinds. There are whispy dry clouds in the sky, devoid of portending snow. The air is fresh and crisp and for the first morning in a long while, I'm waking up without a sinus infection. Huzzah!

This morning I will attend a seminar for a class. We will be discussing (or debating) the effects of culture and history on transition economies. Very interesting but a topic difficult for my liberal arts mind to navigate. The only answer I managed to scrape together these past two weeks is: maybe?

I hope you enjoy the new banner photo. That is an 8am in Flogsta, the view from my building. It's a far cry from 8am in January or December. "Let there be light!"

Love and best wishes from Sweden.

Journeys in the Snow

By writing this post, I hope to bring myself back to America. That's how it is. I'm feeling terribly nostalgic and lonely at the moment. Sweden is particularly cold and dark this evening. The wind howls and snow and ice tapping at my window is the only contact I have with the chilling outdoors.

Well, it's not all as depressing as it sounds. I have discovered today that I really enjoy biking in the snow. What I mean is, I have a devil-may-care attitude about falling from my bicycle. It's a neo-progressive mentality.

Here's the scenario: -6C weather, 28+kmh wind gusts, rapid snow flying about. I wrapped myself up tight in my scarf before heading home from class (9am-11am, 1pm-3pm). The entire bike was covered in ice and snow when I went to unlock it. That did not bode well. Needless to say, there was about 3-4 inches of un-plowed snow on the ground. I imagine surfing feels something like this, bracing for wave after wave (of snow) - sea spray hitting your face at a constant rate. In theory, I could walk or take the bus but I staunchly believe that this kind of weather builds character. I thought back to all those days when I rode comfortably in the bus or my parents car during a snowstorm and I wanted to laugh. I was missing THIS. I took my bike up the first hill like a goat takes a mountain (at one point I had to get off and push). Much of what came after was dodging the big patches of snow, crawling around the roundabouts, slowing down cars, weaving past pedestrians and generally trying not to end up with a face full of snow.

The real trial came during the last quarter. Here the snow is always thickest and the wind always blows the hardest. The trick about the afternoon light is that it casts no shadows and everything looks white. I had a second's chance heads-up to avoid a two foot drift that was creeping across the bike path like lava oozing down Mt. Krakatoa. After that it was a matter of riding out big powdery drifts. I saw an rare animal sighting: a blond (Swedish) girl in a thin jacket, no gloves, and no hat.

Anyway, enough of the biking. I love it - it's fun in the snow. :)

Now I have a few pictures as per the request of a friend. Here you will find two photos of the horn I play, a very old Alexander (German brand, very famous). It's great, fantastic sound and a unique smell... Enjoy!

Mincing Steps

Winter has this uncanny ability at forcing me to relearn how to walk. For one, it never, NEVER gets above freezing anymore. We're always 4 or 5 degrees short of defrosting. What that effectively means is that salt doesn't work. Swedes just don't abide by salting the roads. Instead, they toss gravel everywhere - like farmer Joe slinging corn at the hens.
The problem here is that, periodically, it will snow again. Not a lot, just enough to remind you of the season. I really love the snow, to watch it fall. Walking at night is a favorite pastime; snow falling across the lamplight is just about the most romantic thing I can imagine. But this romantic powder covers the gravel and if you're the first sad soul to try and walk down the hill to the grocery store, you're in for a surprise! I've slipped so many times that I feel like I'm developing seizures: my arms spasm outwards, my legs slide askance, and suddenly I'm prostrate on a hill in a wild dance move (it looks stunning when I'm wearing the blue pom-pom hat that mom knitted me).
I love winter.

On that note, I have a few pictures to post. It has been ages and finally the other day I trekked to class early with my camera and snapped a few of town.
This first picture is of the canal from the bridge I cross to get to class every day. Further up on the right is the city swimming pool followed by the library where I spend many a gleeful hour.

This photo is from the other side of the bridge. Here you can see shops on the left and a parking area with more shops on the right. These trees are strung with white (or yellow) lights.

And lastly, here's a picture of my department's door. Enjoy seeing "Eurasian Studies" while you can, because this is the final year for our department - which is being thrown out in favor of a Russian Center. My classmates and I are now proctored through the department of Peace and Conflict.
I just noticed the lovely addition to "Uppsala University" on the bottom. I wonder if we're secretly catering to Jim Henson?

The Smaller Details

Now that Christmas vacation has come and gone I have little excuse for procrastinating longer than I already have: the next few months shall determine my future career. DOONG. No pressure! I just have to find an internship and preferably a PAID internship. People tell me that finding a paid internship is like finding a health care plan that will actually pass through both the House and Senate. Besides feeling daunted, I have to assemble my entire academic and non-academic history into something that cannot be resisted by the employing world.

Today I made the first attempt and sent my resume and a cover letter (electronically) to an NGO that isn't even hiring. They looked interesting, they're based in Washington, and if they're not hiring, I have nothing to lose anyway, right? It's the first plunge and I'm glad it's over with. Now that the ice has been broken, I hope to crank through these applications without the dragging feet of old.

What I've been doing to distract myself (and to procrastinate) is find out new things to bake and cook. Last week it was chocolate chip cookies followed by oatmeal raisin cookies. This week it is potato leek soup and Swedish chocolate cake. Spring better hurry up because soon I won't be able to fit into my pants - but I will be outfitted with a stunning repertoire of recipes.

Other than that, class isn't demanding enough. I wish it wasn't the Swedish prerogative to say up front that nothing about a class is compulsory. Where is the incentive in that? I know, self motivation, right? My American schooled sensibilities are revolting. Revolting against the lack of rod behind my back.

When I do manage to drive my 23 year old body out into the cold, winter wonder of Sweden and bike the 20 minutes into town, I spend the day in the library with friends. Every once in a while we all go out for coffee and a group-grumble before returning to the books. It's a good student life. I can't complain.

On Backorder

Whew, has it been a while? Although it would behoove me to do a massive update of my life over here in Uppsala, but that would move contrary to my dilatory personality. Let's take this one small step at a time, yes?

Christmas holiday was just what the doctor ordered: an extended amount of time with family and a lack of educational stimuli. YES. When I got back to Sweden, however, I was given a cold welcome, a -11 degree F (-24 degree C) welcome to be exact. That ranks as the coldest temperature I have ever experienced (and hopefully ever will experience).

Some things you might like to know about cold weather:
1.) moisture in your nose will freeze as well as the edges of your eyelashes
2.) moisture in the air will freeze to your clothes and exposed skin
3.) better breathe through your nose or the freezing air will catch in the lungs
4.) small outdoor excursions turn perilous without proper attire

Some anomalies associated with Swedes:
1.) jogging at night is still an option
2.) biking is still 'go'
3.) the mentality that "it could get colder and possibly will so buck up"

Now that it's warmed up to about 21 degrees F, I think my overly-adjusted body finds the weather quite tropical.

Besides the weather, life has moved on in quite desirable directions.
- I've joined the orchestra associated with a student union and play French Horn beside an extremely talented Taiwanese Hornist (believe me, when you play beside someone better than you, the pressure to represent decreases significantly). The horn I'm borrowing is from the German company Alexander Mainz, extremely renown for high-quality instruments. Besides being a little worn, the sound is beautiful, like the honey to the spiced-wafer of my Conn 8D at home. Rehearsals are Sundays at 6pm. At first I was worried about where to practice, but then a corridor mate indicated the sauna upstairs which remains mostly vacant during daylight hours. HUZAAH! One of the slides is stuck fast...I wonder if a little Sauna heat and moisture might loosen it up? Just kidding. ;)

- My methodology course has finished. Now I'm onto something called Security Policy Analysis. Very interesting - riveting when compared with methodology. Classes and seminars are optional (the liberality of the Swedish educational system). Only thing that IS obligatory with this course is a 10pg research paper due by February 18th. But don't worry, I am being a diligent student and attending every class and seminar (yes, you guessed right. I have no idea for a paper topic).

Besides that, I've been following the news and performing a gratuitous reassessment of my life and habits. It's hard to follow the news (international) and NOT feeling grateful/guilty about my standard of living. Appreciative am I...

*Posted later* No Title

- - - Yep, once again I thought it pertinent to get a post out there that was half written but never finished.  God, why do things get left behind? - - -

 

A few weeks ago my bicycle started to fall apart in a few very unfortunate ways.  At first the sensitivity of the brakes became as tangible as last night’s half-remembered dream.  Then the gearshift pooped out (remember the theme song to Friends?  It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear…).  To top it off, the front wheel started to ‘fall’ off.  Please note – my bike gets a heavy workout everyday, at least 40min of action. 

With winter coming on (and after a few misses at the intersection) I figured it was high time to fix the problem(s).  Now that it’s fixed (except for the gearshift) and I’m back on two wheels, which have the capacity to stop, I’m beginning to realize what a luxury that is: to stop.  No longer do I have to worry about inertia or gravity.  When I squeeze on my brake levers, I stop.  So simple, yet oh-so necessary. 

Then I thought to transpose my new ‘to stop’ revelation on the Swedish educational system.  I don’t think students in America ever have the luxury to ‘stop’ their studies without some sort of slap on the wrist or, more likely, a kick to the wallet. 

Swedish university students get a monthly ‘allowance’ from CSN (an acronym that I’ll try and find the meaning of later).  The allowance is partly free and partly an interest free (or low interest) loan from the government that every Swedish citizen is promised for up to 6 years of study.  Pretty nice. 

Where is the Sun?

Yesterday was my darkest day in Sweden by far.  I woke at 7am and ate my breakfast in the kitchen, staring out the window of our high-rise building at the chill navy blue darkness.   The lights had to be fastened to the bike before setting out. 

Class was from 8am to 10am in a building connected to the law library via a complex connection of glass doors and hallways.  When I got there, the teacher looked as sleep-reflective as the rest of us – unshaven and mute, gazing back out across the room from his swivel chair in which he peacefully reclined with legs stretched out. 

When I emerged from class, it was only to creep up the stairs and sit at a table to review past lectures for an hour before making my way down and around through the building’s interior to the basement in the library where the computers are kept.  

After printing out a few mock exams for review, I moved myself a few feet from the computer to a clear table and began to write out the exams – by the yellow light of a desk lamp and the filtered gray of the Swedish sun. 

Afterwards I met with some equally concerned and bemused classmates to discuss the upcoming exam.  By then I had dedicated six hours of the day to study and felt content – as content as one can be before an exam. 

From the library, I walked along the canal bedecked with illuminated trees in a mist of rain.  The sky was barely blue and just beginning to adopt the near black of night.  I unlocked my bike, slapped on the lights, and went back home.