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.

Observations of Fall in Sweden

Despite the swift decent into darkness and an enthusiastic drop in temperatures, Fall in Sweden is about the same as Fall in Pennsylvania.  The trees do, however, change color rather slowly.  I noticed today, biking to school in temperatures just above freezing, that there are quite a few trees that are still stubbornly holding on to the green color.  It’s baffling when current temperatures equate to those around Thanksgiving – when the trees have all abandoned their leaves – when my family instates a leaf-raking day.  It’s rather foreboding: if the trees don’t think it’s cold yet…

Embracing the darkness is becoming a daily adventure.  It’s 5:20pm and the sun is well into the horizon – as if it were running away from the chill wind blowing leaves and nonsense at my window like droplets of hail.  Wherever it’s going, the sun, I want to follow because after a bit of the Swedish climate, you start to notice an alarming decrease in clothing reserves.  Where’d all my long sleeved shirts go, you ask yourself while digging under the bed, through the laundry basket, and in the closet.  After a bit of fruitless searching, you realize, Ah!  You are wearing your entire wardrobe. 

That’s about when you realize that the lack of sunlight is the least of your worries.  Your fingers freezing to the handles of your bike IS. 

I will end by saying that the darkness is romantic when viewed from the warm side of double plated glass.  My favorite pastime is sitting in a cafe outside of the train station and watching the lights come alive as darkness falls.  The only depressing bit is remembering that pretty soon I’ll be one of those sorry sods clutching the lapels of their jackets, desperately holding onto warmth, as they dash across the street.  Maybe one more cup of coffee, I console myself. 

On a side note, I’m nursing a vibrant coffee addiction!

Random Observations (from the past)…

- - - Just to show you that the blog wasn’t completely absent from my mind (okay, maybe it was 50% there and 50% not), here are some clips from the past that I never quite managed to edit or post.  For various apparent reasons. - - -

It’s officially hot water bottle season in Sweden.  I love snuggling up with my blue elephant, whom I was all set to name ‘Sheikh’ (because there are elephants in the Middle East, right? don’t argue!) until I came upon this video:

…and then I had doubts.   Granted, there is no correlation at all between elephant and Arabic belly dancers but now the manly aspect of the name is lost on me.  Back to the drawing board. 

Anyway, I feel like an old woman.  In fact, I’m quite convinced that I should skip my 20s and 30s to jump right into my 40s.  In fact, lately I’ve been feeling like putting my hair in a bun, exchanging the contact lenses for spectacles, and acquiring an overly large and hairy dog named “Bruno” to sit on my feet as I knit unethically large hats.  I blame the weather. 

I blame today’s random-ness on today’s writing assignment: the difficulties of nation-building in post-Soviet Central Asian republics.  My mind is willing to alight on any subject but that, it seems.  And my inability to finish the writing assignment illustrates that to the T.  10.13.2009

Catching Up…

It wasn’t my original plan to blog less than once a month but that’s how things have come to pass.  Not to say that nothing of note has happened, quite the opposite (if you discount the grueling hours spent in the library where not much happens at all besides effusive amounts of brain pain). 

So the best way to play a massive months worth of catching up is to summarize, compartmentalize, and otherwise be brief.  I know, it’s not that much fun for me either.  Who doesn’t like detail?  (Unless one has to spend hours reading about central economic planning in the USSR or decades studying Chinesenationalistspiritinaboringasheckbook…I’m not grumbling, who’s grumbling?) 

What I’m doing here and how things work: 

Okay, I’m studying for a M.A. in International Political Science.  I have classes Monday, Tuesday, and Friday.  Sounds easy, right?  Ah, hah.  If you fall into that lovely trap of thought, you’re where I was about a month ago.  Sitting through lectures is the easy part – so easy that I sometimes feel a bit cheated being there.  The difficulty comes in the tonnage of reading due each week.  On a weekly average, I must read a 300+ pg book along with one or two journal articles.  After that (about the time my thoughts turn to arson) I must write a three page paper due on Thursday at 3pm.  None of that American double-spaced luxuriousness.  I’m talkin’ single space with .5 margins all around. 

I know, it all could be worse.  And so far I am passing…but with the unsettling feeling of not knowing how close I am to NOT.  That, the quick turnaround of new subject matter,  and the weekly repeat of READREADWRITE makes for a bit of stress. 

Time for a bit of demographics:

The one reassuring justification I have for studying here is the breadth of diversity in the student body and population in Uppsala.  I am decidedly the minority with the majority of students in my program speaking either Turkish or Russian.  The influx of Asians makes me believe that my housing complex is actually a Swedish China town. 

My classmates are awesome: Turkey, Belarus, Sweden, Czech, Slovakia, Canada, China, and Kyrgyzstan.  Looking at that list, I realize how lopsided our global representation is: no represent for Africa or South America…   But they’re all open-minded and fun – plus we have unity in our disunity and this shared new experience pulls us together in a way.  Well, we all seemed to agree on the shoddiness of one of our professors.  I feel lucky. 

Swedish Culture Corner:

What about this thing called Swedish culture?  With every post, I’d like to share a little bit of what I’ve learned of the “Swedish experience.” 

Fall in Sweden is a time for apples and crayfish (kräftor) parties.  The crayfish are sold frozen by the dozen in cardboard boxes, cooked, and stacked in concentric circles – their little red bodies make an attractive accent to any Swedish dinner party.  I haven’t tried but I hear it’s a lot of work for little profit – like cracking open a small crab for an ounce of meat.  My theory is that the work makes you thirsty and the occasion leads to the consumption of large amounts of alcohol rather than large amounts of food. 

In which I become an English teacher…again…and again. 

My neighbors are an Iranian couple and I’ve somehow become the girl’s English teacher.  Well, I’m not teaching so much as correcting.  “Nope, that’s wrong.  And don’t ask me why!”  Nah, we chat and so far I’ve learned immense amounts about Iran.  Did you know that men are granted custody of children in divorce cases in Iran?  This leads many women to remain in unhappy marriages for the sake of their children.  I can’t stress how invaluable it is talking with both of them.  And the more I learn, the more I feel that classrooms in America deny students the full picture. 

One of my classmates is struggling with her English and I’ve agreed to read her papers and give pointers as time allows.  She’ll then read mine and do the same (in terms of structure and contact…not language…I hope!).  One of the problems with class is that almost every week presents a new teacher with new standards.  Big incentive to give 110% each time! 

Camera, Action, Shoot! 

Yup, I’m starring in an amateur film shot in Stockholm.  Come now, it’s not as glorious as it sounds (but it sure is awesooome!).  This is a first for me so I can’t help but squeal and be giddy; I’m an international film star!  Don’t worry, my ego shall not grow – I believe my character expires early on. 

The End…

That’s all I have time for today.  I’ve gotta resume writing the paper due on Thursday while the ideas are still fresh. 

Comment and drop me a line!  Anything in particular you want to hear about?

Up to the cool reaches…

Sitting beside this open window on the 6th floor of my high rise student dormitory, it’s hard to physically recall the chest-compressing heat of home. The inescapable sauna that oppresses the mind and drains energy like a nickel sized hole in a pail of water. It’s not something you’d expect to miss. Yet now that I’m in Sweden and the highest temperature of the past 4 days hasn’t exceeded 76°C, I subconsciously wonder to where all that heat has run off.

I wish I could start this blog with some bombastic monologue over the depths of mental ambiguity associated with transatlantic travel BUT I’d rather continue on with a more sensual delivery (as in related to the five senses).

I arrived in Sweden after a long and tedious flight to London and a short puddle jumper to Stockholm, stepped out of the terminal, and faced a strong, warm wind. Refreshing without being chilling (a factor I believe will change soon enough), winds here seem to come from every direction, which makes biking problematic. With my big boxed bike (which managed to nibble its way out of the box – only partially) and my pink suitcase, a gift of my grandma, I had a happy reunion with Carl outside of customs.* From there we boarded a bus and got ourselves to Uppsala.

One of the things that had worried me was how the bike would survive such a journey: mom and I had taken off the front wheel and shoved the whole thing in a regulation sized box with just a handful of bubble wrap minutes before departure. Besides the giant hole from my ravenous wheel hub, it survived quite nicely. Carl and I pieced it together on the curb after about 10 minutes of work (under the watchful stares of a handful of Swedes). Now my beautiful red, magnum beast is fit for travel! She’s already seen a few miles of Sweden and so far it’s like a slice of chocolate raspberry cheesecake.

I’ll just do a few highlights of the past days here. Carl helped me acquire a Swedish SIM card for my phone. Along with shopping for various amenities, I’ve been enjoying the cool night air of Flogsta and running to town on my bike.

Today was a day of many things. The illusive juggler finally made an appearance today in the front lawn of one of the other buildings. I grabbed my balls and quick ran out the door (…yes) to juggle for a good hour or so. Marcus is the name and he got me going on the next step in partner juggling as well as the toss behind the back trick. He’s pretty much a master and I hate him. Haha No, no. But he got me some information about a circus club that meets near the main station. Soon I’ll be learning to juggle while people practice contorting and eating fire. And whatnot. It sounds like good times!

After that, Carl and I went out for a walk. But like many things in Sweden, you can’t go out the door fully expecting the obvious. We stopped at the nearby playground and came upon a friend from the corridor, Alex, and another Swede named Emil. The two then worked out using the various ropes and wood structures meant for kiddies. Emil kept asking me to go try (as he proceeded to do about a million push-ups UPSIDE DOWN from a rope net. I declined politely. The final session of the workout was carrying each other up seven flights of stairs, which smacked of this sport recently brought to my attention: Finnish Wife Carrying Championships. Who could pass up the opportunity? I can hold my head high and say that I’ve been hitched up seven flights of stairs twice – by two Swedes. Carl did it once and Emil second. It’s not the first choice I’d have taken at getting to know someone better. But it works in its own sweaty, jostling way. (and when the boys are quite handsome)

Later we all met in the sauna on the 7th floor. I’ve never participated in the European sauna-culture before and it wasn’t as bad as my hyped up fears of hot, closed spaces. We boiled in the sauna talking about things and nonsense (nonsense being whatever I missed in the Swedish exchanges) for about 15 minutes before sprinting to the bathroom to fill balloons with water. The rest of that story is easy to summarize: cold Swedish evening, half-naked people, a roof, and water balloons. Plus several unhappy pedestrians and bikers. We got ourselves good and cold before heading back to the sauna. Repeat said procedure twice or thrice for good time.

The following day I stood in a long line to acquire my temporary student ID card as well as a few shopping adventures to pick up the last odds and ends. The city is packed with many other young people doing just the same. New students are moving into the corridor every day.

Here’s the runup:
Iranian Couple
Italian Dude
Australian Chick
4 Swedes
Indian Dude
…and me, the American.

And everyone has friends so we’ve been inundated by Italians and Indians. It’s quite fun and makes for an interesting mix. Still two or three rooms to fill…

Almost up to date now: Yesterday I went with Alex, the Swede, to Ikea for my first ever safari into that surprisingly un-exotic, big-box land of mass capitalism. I bought a pillow. We ran into the Iranian couple next door and we all squeezed into Alex's car for the ride home.

Other odds and ends over the past few days include cooking, cleaning, shopping, reading, and registering for a Swedish Social Security number so I can get health coverage. Tomorrow is an introductory meeting for masters students at the university from 3pm-5pm. I hope to find the building and get all suited up for studies! Although Friday is THE day for class and program registration, I’m much looking forward to jumping into things.

Well, that is that. I seem to have gotten the creative wind blown out of my sails but I hope to update more regularly as the days go on. It’s an adjustment here (as is every step in life) but I’ve learned to take it like Silly Putty: at first it picks up a nice, neat imprint of the newspaper then it slowly smudges and loses that fine edge. Finally, it then gets integrated into the pink pudgy mass turning all things a bit gray. Dang, that stuff is weird! And Slinkies! Who invented these toys and why? :D





*Swedish customs is sort of interesting. You have your passport checked before entering to reclaim your baggage. After you have reclaimed your suitcases, you then walk down a hallway and out the door. I breezed past about 6 uniformed officials with a smile and nod. If you have anything to declare, I suppose you’d speak with them and with my overly large bag, I did feel a mite nervous.