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.
1st 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.
2nd 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)
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.
A selfie I snapped just after the above of the pond, didn't intend at all to align myself with the sun.
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.
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.
