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.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
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!
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!
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