Hey folks. I recognize that this blog is dangerously skirting the boundaries between "Study Abroad Blog" and "Stuff I Care About That No One Else Does Blog," so I'm going to make a concerted effort to revert more to the former.
The Swedes in the summer absolutely love their barbecues. There are two pits out back of my residence and they are usually occupied. I've already been to three, when I've had one throughout my entire time at BC this far.
I have exactly one month left here in this fair city, Uppsala. I was tempted to write a retrospective of my time thus far, but then what would I have to write about back in the States? Also, not too sound too studly, but my presence has been requested at one of Uppsala's many famous/infamous "corridor parties" so I don't have a whole lot of time. These are essentially the equivalent of a college dorm party, except more fun, more people, and you don't have to worry about R.A.'s. You just have to make sure if you are hosting that someone doesn't steal your toaster. Luckily or unfortunately – I haven't decided yet – I live in Eklundshof, where there are no corridors and, thus, few parties. The giant student housing development at Sernanders Väg in Flogsta, about 5 km from Eklundshof, is the usual host of these parties. There are many buildings there and they're all about 8 stories high, so needless to say, my three story building in the forests of Eklundshof is a little less lively.
I don't have too many plans for the month, as the majority of schoolwork has been positioned at the rear end of my stay here. Nevertheless, I found time to join up on a student booze cruise, called the "Sea Battle" to Tallinn, Estonia, USSR. I leave Monday and return Wednesday, so expect the next chapter in this, what will undoubtedly become a bestselling book, whenever I've recovered from that epic time.
Showing posts with label Uppsala. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Uppsala. Show all posts
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Valborg
It really is hard to try to describe Valborg with words. Even my pictures don't really do it justice. As I like to say when my telling of a joke turns sour: "You had to be there." Nevertheless, I'm going to attempt to describe the wildest party I've ever been to.
The Swedes like to slap a 'K' in front of something and have it mean 'night before.' Accordingly, they call April 29 of every year Kvalborg. The day started innocently enough for me. For the first time since I've been in Sweden, I had two classes on one day. My first class ended at about 1:45, and as I had previously decided I didn't want to keep this mop anymore, I got my first haircut since leaving LA. The lady screwed up big time, so I did some editing with scissors when I got home after my second class. And by screwed up big time, I mean she tried to give me a typical Swedish haircut, but since I am not Swedish, nor can I pull of the Swedish look, it was bad. And it cost 200 kronor, or about $25.
I showered and donned my Arsenal jersey to head to Värmlands nation to watch the match. I was the only Arsenal fan, and as a result of their shocking performance, I received much ridicule. After drowning my sorrows – maybe this isn't adequate because the Man Utd fans drank as much as me – in Åbro and Tuborg cerveza, we searched for a club to celebrate Kvalborg at.
People had been lining up outside some of the nations at 1:00 that afternoon, so we didn't fancy our chances. But after running into a drunk friend wandering around the streets, we were finally able to gain entry into V-Dala nation. It was about 11:30. Given the early festivites of the next day, most Swedes had smartly retired for the evening, but being American, I had to prove my manliness to myself and stay out as late as possible.
At this point, I realized that wearing an Arsenal jersey in a club is a perfect dude magnet. No less than four dudes came up to me within the course of the evening to talk to me about Arsenal. My gay friend looked on jealously. But I digress.
The four, five, or six of us who were there (don't recall exactly) shared rounds, then at quarter to 3, decided we wanted MAX, the Swedish version of McDonald's. A ladyfriend was able to coax the bouncer to let us in for a burger and at 4:00, I passed out in bed.
I awoke at 7:30 am to phone calls asking where I was. Apparently, we were supposed to meet at 7:00 to watch the boat race on the river that started at 10:00. I reluctantly clawed myself out of bed, made some sandwiches for what guaranteed to be a long day, and had a cup of tea to wake up. I got down to the river by 8:30, accompanied by three turkey/salami sandwiches, two bottles of chardonnay (fake champagne), one bottle of champagne, four cans of beer, and some water. Still intoxicated from the previous evening, I narrowly avoided a hangover and was able to begin drinking straightaway. By the beginning of the boat race, I had ripped through one bottle of chardonnay and was beginning to drink the champagne.
The boat race is a recent Uppsala tradition. Students spend the few days before building boats out of mostly styrofoam, four or five to a vessel. On Valborg, the boats begin a procession down the river at 10:00, watched by many onlookers, and attempt to navigate the series of rapids on the river. Of course, everyone only cheered if one capsized, rather than if a boat proved its structural integrity. There were about 60 boats in all.
The day begins to blur at about this point. We headed to the Ekonomikum park to hang out with a few thousand Swedes, exchange students, old people, kids looking to score some beer, and just as many hot dog stands. There was a band playing and everything was merry. We stayed there a few hours, then headed to a Champagnegalopp at one of the nations. Unfortunately, I have little memory of this, and I don't think many others do either, but it basically consists of people spraying each other with champagne.
After the Champagnegalopps, everyone heads back home to pass out for a few hours or to have a barbecue if still alive. We headed to Flogsta, the largest student residence, for a barbecue on the roof of a building. As the sun went down and it got colder, we headed into the common room of someone's apartment with the intention of prepartying for the clubs that night. Unfortunately, as too often happens, the preparty ended up being the party, and no one could muster the balance, strength, or initiative (apart from manly me, of course) to go out. I was disappointed at the weakness of my friends, but the club lines were too long anyway. I had also had a great deal of fun for that 36 hours.
Shockingly, I did not have a hangover on May 1, nor have I gotten sick.
The Swedes like to slap a 'K' in front of something and have it mean 'night before.' Accordingly, they call April 29 of every year Kvalborg. The day started innocently enough for me. For the first time since I've been in Sweden, I had two classes on one day. My first class ended at about 1:45, and as I had previously decided I didn't want to keep this mop anymore, I got my first haircut since leaving LA. The lady screwed up big time, so I did some editing with scissors when I got home after my second class. And by screwed up big time, I mean she tried to give me a typical Swedish haircut, but since I am not Swedish, nor can I pull of the Swedish look, it was bad. And it cost 200 kronor, or about $25.
I showered and donned my Arsenal jersey to head to Värmlands nation to watch the match. I was the only Arsenal fan, and as a result of their shocking performance, I received much ridicule. After drowning my sorrows – maybe this isn't adequate because the Man Utd fans drank as much as me – in Åbro and Tuborg cerveza, we searched for a club to celebrate Kvalborg at.
People had been lining up outside some of the nations at 1:00 that afternoon, so we didn't fancy our chances. But after running into a drunk friend wandering around the streets, we were finally able to gain entry into V-Dala nation. It was about 11:30. Given the early festivites of the next day, most Swedes had smartly retired for the evening, but being American, I had to prove my manliness to myself and stay out as late as possible.
At this point, I realized that wearing an Arsenal jersey in a club is a perfect dude magnet. No less than four dudes came up to me within the course of the evening to talk to me about Arsenal. My gay friend looked on jealously. But I digress.
The four, five, or six of us who were there (don't recall exactly) shared rounds, then at quarter to 3, decided we wanted MAX, the Swedish version of McDonald's. A ladyfriend was able to coax the bouncer to let us in for a burger and at 4:00, I passed out in bed.
I awoke at 7:30 am to phone calls asking where I was. Apparently, we were supposed to meet at 7:00 to watch the boat race on the river that started at 10:00. I reluctantly clawed myself out of bed, made some sandwiches for what guaranteed to be a long day, and had a cup of tea to wake up. I got down to the river by 8:30, accompanied by three turkey/salami sandwiches, two bottles of chardonnay (fake champagne), one bottle of champagne, four cans of beer, and some water. Still intoxicated from the previous evening, I narrowly avoided a hangover and was able to begin drinking straightaway. By the beginning of the boat race, I had ripped through one bottle of chardonnay and was beginning to drink the champagne.
The boat race is a recent Uppsala tradition. Students spend the few days before building boats out of mostly styrofoam, four or five to a vessel. On Valborg, the boats begin a procession down the river at 10:00, watched by many onlookers, and attempt to navigate the series of rapids on the river. Of course, everyone only cheered if one capsized, rather than if a boat proved its structural integrity. There were about 60 boats in all.
The day begins to blur at about this point. We headed to the Ekonomikum park to hang out with a few thousand Swedes, exchange students, old people, kids looking to score some beer, and just as many hot dog stands. There was a band playing and everything was merry. We stayed there a few hours, then headed to a Champagnegalopp at one of the nations. Unfortunately, I have little memory of this, and I don't think many others do either, but it basically consists of people spraying each other with champagne.
After the Champagnegalopps, everyone heads back home to pass out for a few hours or to have a barbecue if still alive. We headed to Flogsta, the largest student residence, for a barbecue on the roof of a building. As the sun went down and it got colder, we headed into the common room of someone's apartment with the intention of prepartying for the clubs that night. Unfortunately, as too often happens, the preparty ended up being the party, and no one could muster the balance, strength, or initiative (apart from manly me, of course) to go out. I was disappointed at the weakness of my friends, but the club lines were too long anyway. I had also had a great deal of fun for that 36 hours.
Shockingly, I did not have a hangover on May 1, nor have I gotten sick.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Treatise on the Stupidity of Laundry
Normally, the number of driers in a laundry room is equivalent to the number of washing machines. That way, one may transfer N washing machine loads to N driers. It may summarized by the equation N(washers) - N(driers) = E[effiency], where if E >= 1, the universe explodes.
For whatever reason, the washroom at Eklundshofsvägen 4B has four washing machines and two driers. That leads to an efficiency of 2, which in the self-contained laundry room, only resulted in the explosion of Brian.
Overreaction, you ask? Yes, of course, as usual. Obviously, I can just let one load sit in the washer while I wait for the other to dry. Actually, no, I can't here, in Eklundshofsvägen 4B, because residents here must sign up for time slots of three hours. If we come back at 3:01, the key card will not let us in. Therefore, I had to force all of my clothes into one drier, resulting in a drying time of just over two and half hours and more wrinkles than a retirement home. And, of course, the provided Iron did not work.
Now that I've got that rant out of the way, I can tell you what things I've been doing here that actually make me happy. I've been going out to pubs or clubs most nights here. Friday, my nation, Värmlands, hosted International Students for a Greek-inspired buffet dinner that was delicious. Afterwards, it was Klubb 054 in Värmlands for drinks and dancing. Saturday, I went to Kalmar nation for their club night, which featured such songs as "Smells Like Teen Spirit." Last night, Monday, I played football (soccer) in a gym with a bunch of fellow Värmlands members – a very good time – and of course, headed to a pub for some pints afterwards. Tonight, I believe, will be movie night.
I've also headed to some museums in the area: the Museum Gustavianum, which had an interesting ancient Egyptian exhibit; and the Upplandsmuseet, which gave the history of Upplands, the province in which Uppsala is situated. Tomorrow, I'll be heading back to Stockholm for a friend's birthday, but I'll go early in the day to explore the city some more.
Onto Arsenal – what is the deal with this Arshavin transfer? It seems like both Arsenal and Zenit St. Petersburg are being little children. Hopefully, the Premier League will sanction the transfer, as I'm sick of all these zero or one goal performances. What happened to the old days, Arséne?
Song: "God's Dice" – Pearl Jam
For whatever reason, the washroom at Eklundshofsvägen 4B has four washing machines and two driers. That leads to an efficiency of 2, which in the self-contained laundry room, only resulted in the explosion of Brian.
Overreaction, you ask? Yes, of course, as usual. Obviously, I can just let one load sit in the washer while I wait for the other to dry. Actually, no, I can't here, in Eklundshofsvägen 4B, because residents here must sign up for time slots of three hours. If we come back at 3:01, the key card will not let us in. Therefore, I had to force all of my clothes into one drier, resulting in a drying time of just over two and half hours and more wrinkles than a retirement home. And, of course, the provided Iron did not work.
Now that I've got that rant out of the way, I can tell you what things I've been doing here that actually make me happy. I've been going out to pubs or clubs most nights here. Friday, my nation, Värmlands, hosted International Students for a Greek-inspired buffet dinner that was delicious. Afterwards, it was Klubb 054 in Värmlands for drinks and dancing. Saturday, I went to Kalmar nation for their club night, which featured such songs as "Smells Like Teen Spirit." Last night, Monday, I played football (soccer) in a gym with a bunch of fellow Värmlands members – a very good time – and of course, headed to a pub for some pints afterwards. Tonight, I believe, will be movie night.
I've also headed to some museums in the area: the Museum Gustavianum, which had an interesting ancient Egyptian exhibit; and the Upplandsmuseet, which gave the history of Upplands, the province in which Uppsala is situated. Tomorrow, I'll be heading back to Stockholm for a friend's birthday, but I'll go early in the day to explore the city some more.
Onto Arsenal – what is the deal with this Arshavin transfer? It seems like both Arsenal and Zenit St. Petersburg are being little children. Hopefully, the Premier League will sanction the transfer, as I'm sick of all these zero or one goal performances. What happened to the old days, Arséne?
Song: "God's Dice" – Pearl Jam
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Beer
I have a feeling this will be the first of many posts entitled "Beer." In any case, I have been here for almost a week now and have had quite a bit of beer to drink.
So what have I been up to? Well, I've done a lot of walking and biking around Uppsala during the day. I've walked through the Stora Torget a bunch of times to walk around all the shops. Some you may recognize? H&M, Subway, McDonald's, Burger King, Levi's. There is also an ICA (the Swedish supermarket) in one of the malls, the Systembolaget (the all-important liquor store), and the Akademibokhandeln (the bookstore) to pick up my textbook and a Swedish translating dictionary.
I began class yesterday – Basic Swedish History. It has a different professor for each of the 7 meetings, which is a bit unfortunate given the first professor's easiness on the eye. Besides the meetings, there is 600+ pages of textbook to read and one term paper due at the end – easy cheese.
I've met people from many countries so far. I've been hanging out with a group that consists of Americans, Swedes, Australians, Germans, and Austrians, but I've met some Dutch, French, and Canadians too. Some of us are going to take a day trip to Stockholm this weekend (it's 40 minutes by train).
Ah, now you want to hear the drinking stories? Well, I'll get back to you on those. But I'll let you know that I drank quite a bit on a "pub crawl" last night and didn't make it back to my room. I'll leave the rest to your imagination.
Uppsala University has a system of nations, a bit like the American Greeks system. There are 13 nations, each named after a region in Sweden. Every student is required to join one. Every nation has a pub, which, more often than not, is open 5 days a week. The nations organize free activities for their members, but any student from another nation can join in for a small fee.
Now, to the good stuff: beer. The beer here has been very good so far, but apparently, I have been drinking shoddy beer. Such is the difference in quality between American and European beer. One nation I went to last night had the most different types of beer I have ever seen. It was orgasmic. They had 5 different types of Samuel Adams, 6 different types of Sierra Nevada, and they had Anchor Steam on tap. Unbelievable. I had little time to spend there, so I tried the local beer – Slottskällan – and it was fantastic.
So what have I been up to? Well, I've done a lot of walking and biking around Uppsala during the day. I've walked through the Stora Torget a bunch of times to walk around all the shops. Some you may recognize? H&M, Subway, McDonald's, Burger King, Levi's. There is also an ICA (the Swedish supermarket) in one of the malls, the Systembolaget (the all-important liquor store), and the Akademibokhandeln (the bookstore) to pick up my textbook and a Swedish translating dictionary.
I began class yesterday – Basic Swedish History. It has a different professor for each of the 7 meetings, which is a bit unfortunate given the first professor's easiness on the eye. Besides the meetings, there is 600+ pages of textbook to read and one term paper due at the end – easy cheese.
I've met people from many countries so far. I've been hanging out with a group that consists of Americans, Swedes, Australians, Germans, and Austrians, but I've met some Dutch, French, and Canadians too. Some of us are going to take a day trip to Stockholm this weekend (it's 40 minutes by train).
Ah, now you want to hear the drinking stories? Well, I'll get back to you on those. But I'll let you know that I drank quite a bit on a "pub crawl" last night and didn't make it back to my room. I'll leave the rest to your imagination.
Uppsala University has a system of nations, a bit like the American Greeks system. There are 13 nations, each named after a region in Sweden. Every student is required to join one. Every nation has a pub, which, more often than not, is open 5 days a week. The nations organize free activities for their members, but any student from another nation can join in for a small fee.
Now, to the good stuff: beer. The beer here has been very good so far, but apparently, I have been drinking shoddy beer. Such is the difference in quality between American and European beer. One nation I went to last night had the most different types of beer I have ever seen. It was orgasmic. They had 5 different types of Samuel Adams, 6 different types of Sierra Nevada, and they had Anchor Steam on tap. Unbelievable. I had little time to spend there, so I tried the local beer – Slottskällan – and it was fantastic.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
In Sweden
As promised, I have clearly stayed very up to date with this blog. I spent time snowboarding in Mammoth, and then I had to deal with the Great Passport Debacle of 2009, when, much to my chagrin, I learned that between UPS and the Swedish Consulate in New York, my passport could not be kept track of. So I had to spend a nice chunk of change on a new passport and money on the gas to drive to Wilshire Blvd. twice and back.
After receiving my new passport and Swedish residence permit, I (to disregard the few days in between) flew to Sweden. The plane ride to London from LAX was filled with sleep (unfortunately, the last good night of sleep I've had, if you can call it that, but I'll get there), and I watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall on my iPod. I should mention that at first, I sat in the wrong seat – a very embarassing experience. After a two hour layover at Heathrow, I embarked on a 767 to Stockholm. Two and half hours later, I landed in Sweden, my place of residence for the next 5 months. After lugging my bags about a mile through Arlanda Airport to the train station, I boarded the train for Uppsala, where the university is. Upon arriving, I was very hungry, so walked into town until I found the ever-reliable golden arch which symbolizes, if I'm not mistaken, the world's fattest corporation (and the world's fattness in general, i suppose). Mind you, this is because nothing else was open.
I am situated in my own room with the following amenities – bathroom, desk, bed (which is strangely elevated above the desk – I have subsequently moved the mattress onto the floor), toaster oven, stove top, microwave, refrigerator/freezer, etc...
The first night was rather difficult – I can't remember the last time I was alone and without a phone or internet connection, but morning came and I started to make friends (I think) and such. I'm about a 15-20 minute walk from the city center, Stora Torget in Swedish. I walked to the International Office (at first, I thought it was closed because the handle on the door, which normally indicates that you need to pull it open, obviously means that I had to push it) and picked up many things, most importantly, my SIM card. Then I headed to Claus Ohlsson, an electronics store, to pick up my nostalgic Nokia phone (yes, it has snake on it).
There is much more to recount, and I'll do so eventually, but I suppose I should talk a bit about my sleeping problem, which is the reason I am even typing this right now. Never have I ever had so much trouble sleeping in my life. Ask anyone: sleeping is something I have always done a lot of and I have always really enjoyed. But here, in Uppsala, for whatever reason, sleeping hours have been few and far between. I think it is a combination of the alienation produced by culture shock and the jet lag. In terms of the former, I'm having some feelings of dread, right now, about staying here for 5 months; it seems like an eternity I don't want to deal with. Right now, if I was any less of a man (which everyone knows I'm not), I would choose to come home. It's good to know that this is apparently normal and that these concerns will subside as the days pass. For now, though, sleep is a precious commodity. I have gotten a total of about 8 hours of sleep the last three nights. I'm still on the California schedule, I think.
I'll talk about the Arse and BC and the more fun stuff to read tomorrow morning, when inevitably, I wake up at 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 am.
After receiving my new passport and Swedish residence permit, I (to disregard the few days in between) flew to Sweden. The plane ride to London from LAX was filled with sleep (unfortunately, the last good night of sleep I've had, if you can call it that, but I'll get there), and I watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall on my iPod. I should mention that at first, I sat in the wrong seat – a very embarassing experience. After a two hour layover at Heathrow, I embarked on a 767 to Stockholm. Two and half hours later, I landed in Sweden, my place of residence for the next 5 months. After lugging my bags about a mile through Arlanda Airport to the train station, I boarded the train for Uppsala, where the university is. Upon arriving, I was very hungry, so walked into town until I found the ever-reliable golden arch which symbolizes, if I'm not mistaken, the world's fattest corporation (and the world's fattness in general, i suppose). Mind you, this is because nothing else was open.
I am situated in my own room with the following amenities – bathroom, desk, bed (which is strangely elevated above the desk – I have subsequently moved the mattress onto the floor), toaster oven, stove top, microwave, refrigerator/freezer, etc...
The first night was rather difficult – I can't remember the last time I was alone and without a phone or internet connection, but morning came and I started to make friends (I think) and such. I'm about a 15-20 minute walk from the city center, Stora Torget in Swedish. I walked to the International Office (at first, I thought it was closed because the handle on the door, which normally indicates that you need to pull it open, obviously means that I had to push it) and picked up many things, most importantly, my SIM card. Then I headed to Claus Ohlsson, an electronics store, to pick up my nostalgic Nokia phone (yes, it has snake on it).
There is much more to recount, and I'll do so eventually, but I suppose I should talk a bit about my sleeping problem, which is the reason I am even typing this right now. Never have I ever had so much trouble sleeping in my life. Ask anyone: sleeping is something I have always done a lot of and I have always really enjoyed. But here, in Uppsala, for whatever reason, sleeping hours have been few and far between. I think it is a combination of the alienation produced by culture shock and the jet lag. In terms of the former, I'm having some feelings of dread, right now, about staying here for 5 months; it seems like an eternity I don't want to deal with. Right now, if I was any less of a man (which everyone knows I'm not), I would choose to come home. It's good to know that this is apparently normal and that these concerns will subside as the days pass. For now, though, sleep is a precious commodity. I have gotten a total of about 8 hours of sleep the last three nights. I'm still on the California schedule, I think.
I'll talk about the Arse and BC and the more fun stuff to read tomorrow morning, when inevitably, I wake up at 2 or 3 or 4 or 5 am.
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