Jul/Nytt År miniserie del 3.

YO pimps an' hoes!

That was disrespectful, and I'm sorry.

This post will contains pictures. Try to contain your excitement.

The New Year's party was a smashing success. I tried to take pictures of the food, as hipstery and shitty as that sounds, though I contend this was food worth photographing.

This was the standard place setting. There were fifteen such settings. Notice the seven glasses. Going from right to left, it goes water, beer, sparkling wine, white wine, white wine, red wine, and dessert wine. The wines were delightful. This was the beer that was served, also very good.

James Dean you're a beautiful man next to a beautiful table.

              The Sun !!!

Swedish Glenn & Cassie in the flesh, don't worry if you don't get it :P

<<<Min plats :D (my spot)

That's a menu with my name on it. I saved it.

This is "Dillroyal med Kalixlöjrom, lök och fänkålcrudité" which translates to "dill royal with kalix bleak roe, onion and fänkålcrudité". Frankly I don't know what most of that means, nor do I desire to put in the effort to find out; it was served with the beer and it tasted delightful.

This is "Kycklingpaté" or simply "chicken paste". The texture I was not crazy for, but it tasted like chicken and that's a sweet, fruity sauce with it, though I don't remember which fruit it was. Again, a delightful dish. I also forgot to photograph the soup, which came before this dish. It was a carrot.

"Rödbetssorbet" or red beet sorbet, this was served cold and...well as it was beets so it definitely wasn't sweet and tangy as one might expect just from looking at this and thinking it's raspberry. Beet are earthy, and they remind me a lot of corn, so it was like vegetable-y ice cream. It was fabulous, very refreshing.

This is the main course, consisting of three different substances. To the left we have "örtrisotto i parmesankorg" or "herb risotto in a parmesan basket", which were hand-formed, though not by myself. In the middle we have some familiar asparagus, and then to the right we have a beautiful "ugnsbakad torskfile" which means "oven-baked cod filet"

 Dessert wine. Look at me, tryin' to be photograph-y and shit.

 This was dessert. It is called "lakritspannacotta med hallongelé och citron mousse" or "(black) licorice custard with hallon jelly and citrus mousse", again a simply delightful dish, light, delicate, bitter, sweet and tangy all in one. Well done all around. Easily the fanciest and most prep-intensive meal I've ever had.

After the meal one of the guests read everybody's horoscope for the coming year. It was predicted that I would find love in the first half of the year, which is pretty much the rest of the time I'll be Sweden, oh goody goody. After the horoscopes were read, more drinks were had and relaxing was done. At midnight we all went outside to watch the fireworks. It's pretty cool, really, because everybody has their own small collection of fireworks to set off, so looking out into the countryside you see a collection of reasonable displays, not one extended show, though municipalities do sponsor their own shows (which are bigger). Everybody hugs everybody, even if you've only known each other for an hour.

The rest of the evening (or early morning) was consumed by dancing, singing (karaoke) and generally having a good time. The next day, the second of January, is my birthday as some of you may know. We still had some guests in the house who were staying for a few days, which reinforced the singing choir. It was really a very pleasant time. I got a book by beloved author Astrid Lindgren and various little knick-knacks, the most surprising of which was a pair of cufflinks from one of my fathers' friends whom I barely knew, as we had just met that same day.

Some of you may be wondering where the pictures of people are. I've spared them all from this post. Guess you'll have to suffer through it. Nah, you'll be fine.

I've got precious little more to talk about, but it's enough for at the very least another post soon. Try not to bate your breath too much. Oddly enough 'bate' is a falconry term and does not work in the sense of "bated breath" directly, but I'm going to say it anyway in hopes you all understand what I mean.

Sorry for putting this up so late! Love y'all like always,


Luke

Jul Miniserie del 2.

I’m busy. I don’t like it. I took an exchange year to not be so busy, but alas our Scandinavian cousins have adopted our overfull-agenda lifestyle. I don’t do any homework, save for that which the instructors are adamant about, and I still barely have enough time to do nothing. I get up and go to school at a quarter past seven, ride the bus for about twenty-five minutes,get off the bus and then go to my locker. I have about twenty minutes before class starts, and that is spent brushing my teeth (I keep a toothbrush and toothpaste in my locker), buying breakfast/coffee and then consuming it. Class begins, whatever it is. You know how class goes. When you’re in class you’re in class and generally it’s eating up time that you could be doing something else, and this is especially true here I think because of the scheduling; it feels like things are done and over with and time is wasted the last hour of "class". Class is out. I go to lunch. After lunch sometimes I have to run to the next class, though as I said before if coming late is of little or no consequence. In any case, we have class after lunch and it is always a Herculean task to stay awake, no doubt that our full stomachs make us drowsy. So we have that, and then maybe another one, by which times it’s four o’ clock in the evening and the sun has gone down. I can take the bus home if I want to, but if I have swimming at five then I get on the bus and go to the pool. Have swimming for two hours, so now it’s seven, shower and get my shit together, it’s a quarter past. My host dad(s) pick me up, it’s ten minutes drive home. Great. Half past seven in the evening. Time for me to eat, as my dads already had supper ( usually directly after work at like five o’ clock, much earlier than I’m used to), in that event I can eat what is left over or I can fix something myself. I make a plate, eat it, it’s eight o’clock in the evening. Often times there is a TV program which is quintessentially Swedish, and in the spirit of being social I watch that with my dads. It’s nine o’ clock. The last f**king thing I want to do is open a book and read a second language to answer questions on homework that counts for nothing other than the teachers’ approval, which is valuable no doubt though not worth my sanity or precious sleep time, as I have to get up again the next day at six or a little after to do it all again.

Right now I’m in the car on my way to Ullared. Should be interesting. But god damnit I forgot my camera. Guess I’ll have to make due with my phone…

In the car again having been to Ullared just now. I took one picture right when we came in and that was it. The place is absolutely massive, but the floors are long and low, so it isn't SO impressive. I was only on the ground floor and I was overwhelmed by the consumerism. Seriously, it was nearly stressful. It’s a Wednesday today, the fourth of December. It’s Christmas time, yes, but it isn’t holiday madness quite yet, at least I don’t think it is, but then again I always do my Christmas shopping on December 23^rd, so what the hell do I know. Right, it’s early in the Christmas season and to me the place was packed. I had to stand in cart traffic jams while people gawked and meandered, even stopped in the middle of the damn aisle. It was just me, on foot with no cart or luggage, and I had to navigate, squeeze and generally manage to move. Had I had a cart I would still be in there. Everyone’s cart is full. Everyone’s. Ullared is like Walmart and Sam’s Club put together. You don’t go there to get the best stuff, and you don’t go there to get just a few things. You buy better than average or mediocre shit in bulk, and you get it all at a great price. They have just about everything under the sun EXCEPT normal American-ass deodorant. Or normal ass folders. Swedish look like this. I've checked, they don't have anything else. They have men’s and women’s clothes, the latter of which occupies two the three times the floor space of the former (typical for any clothing store). The clothes are nice though, they are way above the quality of their Walmart counterparts. I got three t-shirts for 210 SEK, which is around $30. I’ll let you type the conversion into Google if you want more precision. Good shirts though. Great price. Had socks too, I wish I had waited to buy socks. I went to H&M and bought socks that cost three times as much as those at Ullared a few weeks ago, and I can’t say that I’m not glad I bought them because my toes have been warm the whole time between purchasing the expensive socks and having the opportunity to buy cheap socks. One can’t really put a value on warm toes.

So I changed class at school. I was in the theater program, and accordingly the theater class, as whatever program one takes determines one's class. I changed to the Samhällvetensskap program. I have German now. You may have read my description of what it’s like learning another language in another language. It never occurred to me such a thing was possible, which sounds thick but understand what I mean. I’m just asking you to understand my thoughts, there’s no further elaboration.

In any case, the kids in SA (as it is abbreviated) are…well they’re fuckin’ kids, I don’t know what you expect from me, Margaret, can’t we just have dinner in relative peace and quiet?! Kidding. No, but they’re nice. And more talkative than the theater people. I hope they don’t read this. I’m not being rude (being honest) when I say that the theater class is an adequately segregated and sufficiently clique-y class. Ickgh. Can’t be a shitty person and rant on this too long. I changed to SA and it’s mostly girls, same as with theater and the whole school. The ratio is and I shit you not 4:1. Crazy. They aren’t all crazy hot supermodel sluts, don’t get any fantasies. They’re neat though. I was asked by their journalism teacher today to write a column for the school newspaper, and I think that the intent is for it to be a recurring thing, that is of course as long I’m here. It will be written in English as her request. She reasoned that the expressive power of English (and the fact I know the language) will be best for capturing my thoughts. She also noted there is a lack of English text in the newspaper. That struck me as odd. We never, ever think when we read the newspaper, “That was some good reporting, but I’m really missing some Cantonese in there.” No! English though is characteristically desired in Sweden, especially by young people, who are my audience. Link to language prestige. The column will deal with my experience as an exchange student in Sweden, not unlike what I’m doing right now, but they don't need to know that ;)

Touching back the that language prestige idea: we, native speakers, generally don’t associate any specific language with English as having a prestige, that is to know both makes someone more articulate or interesting. No, it’s just language that carries prestige. If you speak French, you may have better luck picking up chicks (and you're probably more effective in the bedroom, as is the cliche). If you speak German, you may be able to get some laughs or intimidate someone. If you speak Spanish, well you can Spanish, good for you. There’s not another language we think about as complimenting English. There’s just other languages, and some are more desirable or impressive than others. Here, in Sweden, English carries...maybe not prestige but it’s definitely a positive connotation. I ask people all the time what they think about English and often times their response is “I love English”. Ask yourself, do we have any such language? No. We have English and for us it’s like your sister, the color beige, and an old bicycle’s plainness put together. We hear it everywhere! There’s no way to escape it in the United States. Seriously. No. Way.  It’s like we’re caged into our own medium of the spoken word. And with large portions of the world learning English, it won’t be long and it’ll be unheard of to, well, not hear English.

I often think about aliens as we conceive them. Alien races are generally far more advanced than us, as we don’t possess the technological loins to visit their home world, they must come to us. They almost always look very similar to each other, as creating such variation in appearance, culture, or language such as we see in ourselves would make aliens too similar to us. However, I think that before a civilization can reach such a level of scientific sophistication as to move numbers suitable for colonizing or conquering other planets, they must undergo a coming-together in culture, appearance, and language. This would minimize cultural, racial, and political conflict, completely avoid bad translations (assuming the language is standardized, and few if any dialects are present), and generally unify the entire race as a uniform for an army. The fact that we make aliens dissimilar to us and like each other is perhaps then quite a clever and powerful idea. Yup, I think so.

This is really quite uncanny, as I’m writing this paragraph at least 72 hours after the previous. That, and I thought to open this document again because I had something to say about English. Don’t care if you’re tired of the subject, I’m not, possibly never will be. Today, right now, I think it’s terrifying that other languages will die at the hand of English. It’s terribly sad I think. Surely within our lifetime we won’t be left with only English, and maybe some languages will come to co-exist with English, but I think the trend with Swedish is irreversible. There are pictures of New York in my room.

Note to the reader: I have no idea what I thought was uncanny...the first bit is rough in the above paragraph, please disregard it and try to appreciate the more coherent thoughts I had through the middle and (thank goodness) at the end.

I’ve very, very tired. Wrote a few college essays today. It was fun. What the hell, you think writing is fun? Queer. Yea, I had better come to grips with the fact that I like to write. I don’t want to devote my life to it. I do want to study it though. Jesus, think about the words you are reading. They adhere to age-old rules of syntax, grammar, connotations, inferences, tones, moods, allusions, everything! They’re just damn sounds! They’re sounds translated to letters which you look at with your looky-balls in your head and you say them to yourself in your head and you understand! What the fuck?!

I am listening to Die Prinzen right now. It’s pretty crazy. Three languages. Think of it. One native, two learned as second languages, one much better than the other. Guess which one’s better.

It’s Swedish. You don’t have to wonder.

I don’t know how long it has been since I’ve written in this document, and I have absolutely nothing exciting to say in this paragraph. It is December the 16^th today, a Monday. It is eighteen minutes past the stroke of four and I am waiting for the bus. I look up each time a bus goes and look at the clock in a panic thinking I missed mine. I haven’t missed my bus. It comes in about thirteen minutes.

I don’t think I’ve written about the world feeling smaller, and if I have, you can read more on the topic. Coming here, living here, learning the language..it shrinks the world. Sweden used to be a big scary country filled with strangers speaking another language (though that isn’t entirely accurate; their English is superb). Now it’s a country, still inhabited by what are to me mostly strangers, exception being Halmstad, where there are people now who react to my presence; they aren’t strangers anymore. Nor am I one to their language. It is an absolutely fascinating feeling to feel yourself becoming integrated into society.

I appreciate home. When I say home I mean the States. And by the States I mean specifically Iowa, as that is where I have lived my entire life. I'm going to truncate this paragraph and possibly revisit this idea in a later post.

Jul Miniserie del 1.

This may be interesting to some of you. It's some information on Swedish swears.

The weather is what I think to be unseasonably warm, but perhaps it isn’t. No one has commented on it being warm, and I obviously lack the knowledge to judge for myself. I suppose I could look at an almanac… It’s maybe 26 degrees when I go to school. No, it’s more like 28. That’s Fahrenheit, of course. It gets into the mid or high thirties during the day. Yea, warm. There’s no snow here. It’s December. What the hell, I’ll just say. Since starting this post it has continued to be unseasonably warm, which has now been confirmed by native Swedes. Honestly I’m disappointed in the weather. Damnit, Sweden you should be cold. And snowy. And full of blonde, horny women. Currently I haven’t found any of the three.

It’s dark as hell. Seriously, seriously, dark. The sun comes up just before lunch. I’m exaggerating of course, but it sure seems so. The sun is definitely behind the horizon at 8 in the morning. 9 o’clock I think you can say the sun has “risen”. At its height it is still shining behind buildings. Casts long shadows so it’s kinda difficult to stand in the sun. And it seems like morning all day. When the sun comes up it’s more yellow than when it’s noon. There’s more atmosphere for it to go through, there’s dust and things in the air, blah blah blah. The wavelengths of light that reach your eye are longer when the sun is low in the sky, put simply. That’s why it looks red/orange at sunset and sunrise. As the sun never gets very high in the sky, it’s always pretty yellow, and as such it always looks like morning, until about 2 o’clock when it starts getting dark again. Right now it’s 4:30 PM and it looks like midnight. Pretty depressing, but it’s also…I don’t know. Introspective? Kinda. Cozy? Kinda. For those of you that have played Skyrim, you know what it’s like to walk around outside in the dark? The moon is shining, the stars are out, the air cool and fresh. That happens here. Not every night are the stars out because of the f**king clouds but I’ve had some nice walks home in the star- and moonlight. I think it’s a different kind of dark. That’s a stupid thing to say. It isn’t different dark but the people are out and about even when it’s blacker than Toby’s ass, which I think is cool. It isn’t a different dark but the dark feels different. Swedish summer is much better though. Experiencing that will be awesome to contrast with the winter.

It really sucks being away from home for the holidays. Christmas is called Jul, like yuletide, and it’s fun and all. I mean it’s essentially the same holiday, it is the same holiday, albeit different by way of the fact it’s Swedish and not American Christmas. I miss Thanksgiving. I miss Christmas. And Christmas Christmas not Jul Christmas. Obviously I don’t miss something I’ve never experienced before (though experiencing Swedish Jul was a rush, more on that later). I accordingly miss the people that are generally  around on Christmas. Not to mention the food. And the presents. Ah.

Jul is, as I said, is pretty similar to our Christmas. Glögg is a popular beverage this time of year. First time I tasted it I thought, “This is amazing! They have managed to condense Christmas into a liquid, concentrate it, sweeten it, and sell it!” You think I’m joking, but it’s honestly what can be described as Christmas in a bottle, or concentrated Christmas in a bottle. The most Christmasy Christmas smells and tastes all in one. It is served warm, so it’s cozy, it has booze in it, similar to the strength of wine (can be non-alcoholic though; glögg translates to “mulled wine” in English, if you opened the link provided), so it’s, one could say cozy in another way. One also puts raisins and nuts in it so it’s crunchy and chewy (you eat them with a spoon). It’s good. The power of liquid Christmas can be a bit too much though. I could drink it half and half with water no problem.

I was speaking with Andreas around a month ago about swearing in Swedish. Swearing is…well of course one can swear in any language, but one can’t really swear in Swedish. It’s like there’s a limited amount of vulgarity one can express with Swedish, no doubt a reflection of Swedes politeness and generally courteous demeanor. I asked Andreas about some examples of Swedish swear words, which include “fan” (pronounced as fAAHHn), “skit” (which is shit, pronounced hweet, think Cool Hwip), and “jävla” (which is a name for the devil, as is “fan”). These Swedish swears are not pleasant things to say, you probably wouldn’t want to say them in the presence of the king, but they aren’t so vulgar you can’t say them in the presence of your grandparents, even if you're a child. As Andreas explained it, swearing in Swedish is not like in the States, “where you flip everything over.” When Swedes want to really express themselves with a swear, often they use the English. Fuck is the most used, easily. They say “shit” like we do, pronounced “sheet” with a slightly shorter “e” sound, when they want to have a slightly more intense shit than can be produced with "skit".

I was in the pool locker room the other day. I was changing after my workout. It’s a community swimming pool so there are people of all ages and colors in the locker room all the time. There was a young boy, probably three or four, there with his father. They were also on their way out, and the little boy was dancing around on the little counter/bench thing in front of the lockers after his father had helped him back into his clothes. Predictably, in the boy’s spasms of childhood happiness, he tumbled from the counter/bench. Without so much as looking up from packing up their shit his father reached out and caught him and set him down on the ground. He said “Nu få du stå där” which translates literally to “Now may you stand there.” He wasn’t angry or excited, even though he just saved his little boy from a great deal of potential pain and unhappiness, were he to strike the ground. I was amazed. The little boy stood in nearly motionless, both feet securely under him, no doubt a bit shocked and confused as to what had just happened.

Triss

That's Swedish for three of a kind.

Sweden Is Not a Large Country

This may seem like an obvious statement. Well, it is, but let me explain. Sweden occupies 173,732 square miles of the Scandinavian peninsula. For reference, the state of Iowa is 56,272 square miles. So about three Iowas fit inside Sweden. Cool. Half of the 9.5 million people that live here, though, live in the southern half of the country. In Stockholm alone there are 1.4 million in the metro area. So there's about 4 million people to live in the rest of the southern half of the country, which is about 1.5 times the size of Iowa. This results in a population density not unlike that which we have in Iowa (52.7 and 53.8 inhab./sqmil).

The more interesting part though, I think, is the fact that everyone knows everyone else, and that everyone else is on TV, or the radio, or in movies. This is a hefty generalization, and it is not literally true, obviously. It is a very connected-feeling country. With not so many people and not so much room (though by European standards Sweden is huge) it is only natural that people are well-connected. I don't know how many times I've heard "oh I went to school with her" or "yea she was in my sisters class" or "I talked with her at a concert once" when people are talking about famous people. People on TV and in movies, and not the shitty local television, or the short film your cousin made for his film class in college. These are people with careers, people like ABBA and Roxette, or Stellan Skårsgard (from Pirates of the Caribbean, Orlando Bloom's dad). I mean there are movie stars that live in Halmstad during the summer, and the king comes and plays tennis in the town to the south. Pretty cool, I think.

English

English is a massively influential language. It's really pretty incredible. One can read all they want about English as a global language all they want, but experiencing it in the flesh is another matter entirely. I was in Germany just the other day and I heard Mumford and Sons on the radio. My hosts spoke German, as they live in Germany, and their English was so-so. Enough to survive, definitely, but certainly not fluent. And I thought it was weird that they would routinely listen music in a language that they didn't really use. They said themselves that they don't use English very much, so I thought, "why the fuck are people playing English music on the radio then?" Think if US radio stations played German music, or Japanese, or Chinese. Sure there might be a song or two that's catchy no matter what language you speak, but I think that many people would tire of the lack of lyric comprehension quickly.

English is imperative to the world of business. If you wish to conduct business in or with the US, a knowledge of English is invaluable. If you want to communicate with someone that does not share a mother tongue with you, English is your best bet. If you want to watch movies and not have to read subtitles, English is where it's at. If you want to, as I said, listen to music, English is handy there as well. It has become abundantly apparent to me that the US, and Britain, and Australia, English speakers wherever, as a collective, have created a hugely influential culture, through movies, music, television, business, and historically, the colonization of much of the world by Britain and the rise of the US to superpowerdom. These trends have cemented the English language as the first truly global language. This seems, I'm aware, a bit English-ego-stroking, but I'm not trying to say that English is better than any other language. I mean the same thing could have happened with French, or hell, had Hitler won, I very well could be writing in German right meow. But it happened that English is the language that went global, and I find it pants-crappingly-fascinating that any language can do that.

On a related note, with the extent of people who speak English as a second or third language, there are lot of people pretty bad at English. I've noticed this with different things the Swedes say routinely, such as "do you want to follow me" when they mean "would you like to come/go with me" (This one in particular I found to be a fascinating example of how things are lost in translation, as the Swedish is "Vill du följa med?" or literally "Do you want to follow with?", which, in context, means the same thing as "Do you want to come/go with me?" but I think that as Americans we have it fairly ingrained in us that following somebody is a sign of obedience/leadership (if someone says "follow me" they're asserting themselves as a leader,) or a necessary means of showing someone where something is, as in "You can follow me, I'm going there now." When asked outright as a direct translation from the Swedish, "Do you want to follow me [to a location]?" it isn't understood as, not at first anyway, "Do you want to come/go with me [to a location]?" it is understood as "Do you want to follow me, because I am a leader and you are a follower, [to whichever location]? It may seem that I'm hugely over-thinking this, but I think most people agree that when they think of "following" they think of one in front of the other, and when most people of "coming/going with" they think of one beside the other, especially when talking to one's peers, which is who I hear this from most often. This is the difference between treating your peers as equals and treating yourself as superior to them, albeit unintentionally.This is a lot to insert in the middle of a sentence but deal with it, I'm not going through the trouble to edit it.)  or "will happen something" when they mean to say "something will happen" or when they say "take it in English, Swedish, etc" when they mean to say "speak/say it [in] English, Swedish, etc." It's mostly syntax and verb conjugations/usage, but if you only speak English with other people who have it as a second or third language and you are all making the same mistakes and lack the knowledge to correct each other, then the mistakes become commonplace, and eventually, accepted.

Some more examples:

"I didn't found it." 

"When we was looking bought a house, them bought it before it we buy it"

"I don't know if it will happen something"

"Napuwallie" when he meant "Napa Valley", the famous wine country in California

"I was living one year in France"

"I live there some years ago"

"I have live there for lots of years ago"

"Put down the prices" It's like you're euthanizing the prices instead of reducing them.

I am not discouraging people from practicing their English, but god damn is it laborious to listen to so many people make so many mistakes. Especially in group situations, I can't stop each conversation and correct people, one because that's impossible, and two because if I were to try I'd look like a dick. And sometimes even I doubt whether or not they're really wrong. This is due to the obscurity of the way they articulated it. Sometimes they choose words that in some contexts would work just fine, but in other contexts, it throws me for a loop, preventing me (or any other native speaker) from coming up with a more acceptable way of saying what they want to say, at least in that moment. Combine this with incorrect verb conjugations/tenses, different syntax, and "ums" and "ers" sprinkled in and you've got to do work to understand them. I should also note that this is not the general trend, most people are very good. Some people though could stand to improve their skills, and others really need to. The thing that worries me more than having to close my eyes and focus on intently on people's English is that other L2 (second language) English speakers don't. They know what the other L2 English speaker is trying to say, if not totally precisely, precisely enough to answer in an often equally imprecise way. Given a long enough time, the trend of "wrong" English turns into "right" English, and I think it has already started to happen. Just like in the US, if enough people use a new word long enough, it becomes accepted as a word. With enough people using English in their daily lives, but not with native speakers, they are bound to come up with their own tendencies and idiosyncrasies which a native speaker would consider incorrect. And that's kind of shitty, I think, that English is developing more and more branches that aren't necessarily attached to or born from any culture in particular, rather from a utilitarian need to communicate. Given enough time and enough isolation of different branches, there won't be the English language but the English languages. This already exists to some extent with the differences between British, American, Australian, and Caribbean English. However, these differences are relatively minute when compared to, for example, the differences among Chinese languages. I'm not claiming that I know that English will absolutely change to such an extent, I'm saying that this sort of thing is happening, and mostly it's just annoying. Like a scratchy tag on a shirt. Both native English speakers and those who are L2 speakers are inconvenienced by the differences that come about by way of "mistakes" becoming commonplace that they're accepted, which makes them that much harder to reverse, and that much more difficult (annoying) to understand.

We are not so different, you and I

This is something that I've thought about people in general for a long time. Just the fact that we are humans makes us similar in more ways than we are different. Though, it only takes one difference, i.e. our skin color, to have us think that we are massively different, too different in fact to ever get along, which of course is a ridiculous notion, but the history books tell us otherwise.

All that aside, being here I've noticed that people are, even if just at a basic level, very like another. To confirm conventional wisdom, we all like to laugh, have fun, drink and carry on, etc. There may be different cultural tolerances or tendencies for these things, but on a general level, these are unifying characteristics. In addition to these, there are those that we don't generally think of (at least I didn't): there are awkward people, moments, and topics, kids are annoying, parents are frustrated with their annoying kids, the kids scream and throw tantrums, the parents yell, etc etc. Kids misbehave. They hit each other without warning. They throw stuff, make messes, what have you. They're fuckin kids! Adults make pointless small talk. They say stupid or socially inappropriate things. It's absolutely fascinating. I think many times when we think of different people in different places we tend to glorify them. We think of, hell, whichever group or culture, and we're quick to praise them (or the opposite) for whatever traits or characteristics they're known for. We think of Germans, we think of lederhosen and beer, and I bet that you've got a picture of what a German should look like. Or a Frenchman (that funny little hat, a red bandanna around the neck, thin, pointy mustache, black and white striped shirt). Or a Spaniard (mustache and goatee, dark-haired, tan, shorter than a white guy, likes to party). Hell, what do people think of when they think of Sweden (or the US, though I won't write about it)? Tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed. Busty, athletic women. It may be true that there are a disproportionately large number of blonde people in Sweden, and many of them have blue eyes, but there is an even larger number than dye their hair blonde, and that don't have blue eyes. There are people of all colors here. The people look nothing like I expected, and exactly what I didn't expect was for them to look like normal people. That sounds stupid and crass, but I expected what many people think of they think of Scandinavia: tall, blonde, blue eyes. Sure, there is more of that here, but Sweden is just as much a melting pot of cultures, creeds and colors here as anywhere. Well, maybe not, as there are still mostly white people here, but you see what I mean. The world is getting smaller, and as a result, we are becoming more and more like each other. If you wanted to see "the pure Sweden" as people here call it, you have to travel back in time about sixty years. That was, apparently, when Sweden looked like people thought it should look, in all its Aryanness.

We had brunch a few weeks ago, and I was absolutely shocked. There were several people in the house, mostly friends I think. I was shocked that adults and children alike were giving awkward hugs, greeting each other enthusiastically, saying "hi" and "good, great, you?" several times in rapid succession. We did that for some time, just stood around and greeted each other. When it was time to eat there was the ever-familiar politeness of "oh no, you can go first" thing, followed by the meal, which involved, for me personally, several conversations where I was asked about things I really wasn't interested in or where I wasn't allowed to get a word in edgewise. I was asked about hockey. Have I ever talked about hockey? I know fucking nothing about hockey! I was asked several times about Sweden and Swedish and English and the US and everything, and there were several times where I wanted to continue developing a thought, but I was cut short by those who were already dominating the conversation. I'm not criticizing anyone, either individually or as a group, I think it's great to converse with people, my point being about being cut short or asked such things I have nothing to contribute to is that it reminds of family gatherings back in the US. 

At Thanksgiving, Christmas, whatever, there are exceedingly few relatives with which I can have a conversation longer than a few minutes. That, or if we're both determined to talk to each other, it goes in stripes. "So do you know where you're going to college" "Nope, I might go here here or here" "Ah, cool". Thirty seconds silence. "Do you know what you want to major in" "Nope, I might do this this or this" "Oh, yea, this is really good, or this is not worth your time, do this". Two of the major conversational pieces have been exhausted, both of us are aware of this, so at least thirty seconds more silence. Neither of us have come up with anything, resort to small talk. "Weather!" "Oh, weather!" "Yea, that weather, it happens and shit" "Haha, it sure does". All conversational points exhausted. Shit.

Having brunch was remarkably similar to such family gatherings we've all been to, and I'm not saying it's a bad thing, just the opposite! I thought it was massively entertaining to see that other peoples put themselves through the same social malarkey.

Pictures

Most of these were taken in Germany, when we went to visit Sebastian, R&A's first exchange student. The text is always describing the picture above it.

This was next to my bed at Sebastian's house. Don't know what it is, though it looks remarkably like a bong.

Sebastian's village

Me standing one step inside the bathroom at Sebastian's house. The toilet was to the left, or my right as I am in the picture. In order to reach the toilet, one had to squat down where I am standing currently, then back up to the toilet.

Sebastian's house

Grapes from the garden. They were good, but they were really really dark (wam bam flavor, not for pussies) and had big seeds in them.

Parking like a douchebag knows no bounds.

This is a big building, might be the opera.

"the true, the beautiful, the good"

Street art

Goethe sat in this spot. Taken in the Goethe House.

Skyline

Must have been cold that day

Ducks

The fuck you lookin' at?

In a big church. This display was massive.

So was this. That man is fully grown about five foot six, for reference.

This Halloween exhibit seems a little inappropriate.

Skyline at night

It's 19.5 Celsius (67 Fahrenheit) at 11 o'clock. We sat outside in short sleeves.

This was one of our dinner setups when the power was out. Food put in the pan with water (already cooked, delivered by my host grandparents) and warmed by the candles, enjoyed by candlelight. 

Post Poop

Get it? It's post number two...hahaha.

If I remember correctly when I had started the last post I had been here a week. Well now I have been here three weeks and one day. If this post turns out how I envision it, this should raise the bar from the last one. Seems a bit unwary, really, as such bar-raising may not be a sustainable trend for me as blog author. If the bar isn’t being raised, I’m not being fresh, I’m not pushing the limit, not, as I said, raising the bar. And if that isn’t happening my audience will dry up and blow away with the next breeze that cares to roll by, and if that happens I will surely lose control in a horrible downward spiral of self-destruction and depression, and the world will stop to look for a moment before turning away to resume its day and think, “damn, kid ended up dead,” a collective thought sincere enough, but no more intense or alarm-raising as a fellow grocery store customer’s fart.

That was a bit depressing, but it was my way of saying you all matter to me. I the bar will continue to be raised, even if it isn’t actually, much as some things get better with time by staying the same.

1^st Heading

Previously I said that the stereotype that Scandinavians are reserved socially is mostly untrue. I can report that my early observations have only been vindicated by these past weeks. Honestly I can’t really tell a difference from the US, in any case not one that I can pin it down. They are people just like you and I. They like to hang out, they like parties, they like to talk, they tell jokes, they have problems, they have crime shows on television, dating shows, gardening shows, stunt shows, you name it, they’ve got it. Well, that might be untrue because they watch a lot of American and British television, but I would say at least 50-60% of the programming is written, directed, shot and edited in Swedish. If it isn’t in Swedish, there are Swedish subtitles. I watch TV with Swedish subtitles all the time try and learn some more motherf*ckin’ gangsta Svenska, the language of the most badass people in all of history, the Vikings. In actuality Swedish in Swedish is not Svenska but just svenska. Nothing but names are capitalized, as far as I can tell anyway. Even titles like “herr” (which is equivalent to Mr.) aren’t capitalized, and what’s more using titles is not common at all. I would never call a teacher “herr Anderson”. You just call people by their first name. The one instance where you absolutely cannot use a first name is when talking to royalty. There is royalty in Sweden, in case you were unaware. One of the princesses was married recently, and I’m pretty sure she’s pregnant now. Speaking of which, why the hell wasn’t there a Swedish Royal Wedding? Forget Kate Middleton and her half-bald husband, the Princess of Sweden is much more attractive and interesting.

I noticed that that was a very hectic paragraph so I ended it.

2^nd Heading’s Name Is School

I still don’t know what to do when I have a break. I’ve fallen back on my habit of drinking coffee (which fucking rocks here) but buying and drinking coffee takes all of ten minutes, which leaves me with 10 ± 2.5 minutes to do nothing. There are no bells, as I said, and there is no collective flow of traffic. There’s not a signal for people to storm the halls and create a complete clusterfuck of chaos that eventually dies off as everyone makes it to their respective locations. I could walk into class half an hour late and say, “Sorry Martin, I thought we were having class in the basement, and I had this gnarly cramp on my way up the stairs, so I stopped for a refreshment in the café.” Martin would say, “Ah,” and then carry on doing what he was doing. Ha, that actually happened today, kind of. I missed my bus in the morning. I didn’t really miss it, I was asleep for the coming and the going of said bus. So I woke up, saw the time, and texted my first teacher of the day, whom we affectionately refer to as “Tompa”. I said “Hey, good morning, sorry but I’m going to be late today. I’ll arrive shortly after nine.” And he replied in Swedish, saying the equivalent of, “Sounds great, see you then!” as if I were giving him good news. If I had my teachers’ numbers in the US I would think that 1) a little strange, and 2) I wouldn’t think it warranted to alert them of my tardiness before said tardiness has been confirmed by the course of events as determined by the universe, and 3) I certainly wouldn’t expect them to reply jubilantly.

So there’s a theater production to be performed in the coming weeks. I really have no idea what it is about or what I’ll be playing. It is an original work as thought up by the various dance, theater, film, and photo students and teachers alike. I don’t remember being present for the meeting to decide the central theme. A meeting which, from my observations, I don’t think ever happened, so we’re all operating under no central theme or idea. Seems a bit unorganized from my perspective, but everyone seems to be going about their day to day activities calmly, which I like to think means that it will all turn out just great. I hope that next time I post I have more to tell about it.

Call #3 General Cultural Experiences (this really bugs me that it won't look like the other headings)

 I went to a kräftskiva, which means “crayfish party” two weekends ago at my host grandparents'. It’s a pretty special occasion here. As the name indicates, it’s a party that involves the consumption of crayfish. There were two types of crayfish present, freshwater (left) and saltwater (right), along with normal-ass shrimp from the ocean (center). Dinner starts with an assortment of appetizer like dishes. Most of my plate was a sort of hamburger casserole-type thing. It doesn't fill you up, obviously as it's a starter course, but I thought the whole thing was...odd. You eat before you eat the crayfish not to get full but so you aren't hungry, and then when you get to the crayfish you spend so much time disassembilng them that you are effectively as hungry as you were before you started. So you eat to not get full, but to sustain yourself through the main course, which by design doesn't allow you to get full. It's like a more complex form of Chinese food. A kräftskiva also involves the consumption of alcohol from glasses that are slightly than shot glasses. One can drink their glass in one go if they want, or sip as they desire. Typically schnapps or akvavit is drunk. I did not drink. The drinking of the spirits is almost always preceded by singing one of the many many many Swedish drinking songs, all of which were apparently written for the kräftskiva.

A Tour Outside The House

This>>> is the area outside the front door, looking northeast standing in the driveway. When I arrived it was nighttime (it looks fuckin' awesome at night, there are lights) and I thought "shit, this place rocks". Well, I was right.

 <<<This is just two steps to the left and turned facing almost directly north from the last photo. I sat and read a book here the other day.

 <<<The front of the house, in case you're thick. Kidding. Or am I?!

 The pond which was put in recently. The wooden structure to the left is a small vegetable garden.

 This picture I really like^^.

A selfie I snapped just after the above of the pond, didn't intend at all to align myself with the sun.

Behind the house. It's just a very...nice area. The archway thing leads to the woods, which are coming up yet...

The wood pile in all it's glory. I couldn't get a picture not looking into the sun. Some of you may not think so, but this is a simply beautiful pile of wood. Would bang.

 If only I had a better camera and knew how to use it properly... When I first saw this I instantly thought it would take a great picture. I think black and white with some blood or some shit would put it over the top. I don't literally mean feces, before anyone makes that joke.

I squeezed my camera into the crotch of a tree and set the timer. I took multiple three-shot series. The best ones:

 Looking stoic

I moved the chair back to put my feet up, and the back legs sank into the soft earth while the front legs were still on the stones around the table. Trying not to fall over...

 Balance regained!

 Lookin' at some trees

 This is a beautiful clearing where the fate of prison inmates was decided. Yup, my dads live right next to a medieval place of choosing life or death...why they had a specific location just to decide I do not know.  

 This is the rock that's in the middle. One of my dads' former students painted it for them.

One of the many walking paths through the woods

a more profound bit...for those who are interested

I have realized that I'm an American abroad. It's odd when we're at home and we know that we're on American soil, driving on American roads and buying things with American money, drinking American beer, celebrating the fourth of July and what have you, it all becomes like wallpaper. You know what I mean. You live in a house for thirty years, or even just one, and you don't really see the wallpaper anymore. You know it's there, and you know what it looks like, but you don't really see it. The only way you could really see it again would be to move somewhere else for say, a year, and then come back and it would be like BAM! look at that fuckin' wallpaper! This may seem a bit starry-eyed and self-satisfyingly insightful. Maybe it is. I'm not making you read this.

I realized it when we landed in Berlin. I was in airport at seven o'clock in the morning, having had no sleep whatsoever on the flight over, and I was on my way to spend a year in Sweden. It didn't really come into focus at the time. Sure, I can look at a sign that says "Welcome to Germany" or "Welcome to Sweden" but, as the Solipsists say, unless I think it and believe in my own mind, the issue of whether it exists or not is uncertain. What was happening was just that, I wasn't thinking it and believing it in my own mind, not that I was denying it like it was something to be avoided (quite the opposite), but probably simply because I was exhausted and I wanted a shower. I kept telling myself, "you aren't in the US anymore, you're in Germany" and it helped, but it didn't come up and whack me in the face like I knew it should. It's just really weird. One gets very used to being part of the majority, that is walking among one's own countrymen, speaking the language, eating the food, being able to think about the money in terms of purchasing power, being able to think in the appropriate weights and measures, etc. When you're dumped into an environment different from that, the holes simply don't line up. I still find myself converting prices in crowns to dollars, kilometers to miles, km/h to miles per hour, etc. When I use words like majority you obviously associate ideas like racism and ethnic minorities, and in that sense, the sense of being a second-class citizen, doesn't apply. I'm still a white male in northern Europe. And northern Europe is like...stomping grounds for the white man. When I say I'm not the majority I mean I don't come from Germany, or Sweden or Norway or Finland or anywhere in Europe, obviously, I'm from fuckin' America.

I should note that not being in the majority isn't something permanent. It isn't like I'm despairing over how different this place is from me and I from it, because that simply isn't true, no, far from the truth. Things are just different enough to notice that things are different. It isn't like going to Canada, where you can hardly notice anything amiss. There are many things that are the same, but an equal, if not greater, number that are different. People here ask me all the time, "What's the biggest difference between the US and Sweden?" I never know what to say because I don't know what constitutes something as being "the biggest" difference. I've thought of saying, "Well gee, I don't know, how about the fact the two countries are separated by an ocean, one is about 20 degrees farther north on the map, one uses the metric system and the other its own weights and measures, and that they speak two different languages?!" That would be rude, so I haven't said it, but really, what do people want me to say? I usually think of a small difference to answer their question, such as the cups being smaller, or the popularity of carbonated water. These aren't "the biggest" differences. These are subtle differences. I think it's massively fun, because the subtlest of cultural nuances are the most fun to learn about. The lack of knowledge that I have about all of these little things are what made me realize I'm an American abroad, and what put me "not in the majority". As I learn about the quirks and details of the culture, the language, and the people, I accordingly will come to view myself not as someone visiting from another country, but as someone who is at home in another country.