Swedish Love

Don't get any ideas about this entry from its title. I merely mean that I'm going to be giving the Swedish, as my generous hosts, a little time on my blog. It is a good time to do this, since I've been here for awhile now. I also promised you I'd write before I leave for Oslo on Saturday.

What are my feelings right now, you ask? Well I haven't felt homesick since the first week here, but I would obviously love to see some BC or L.A. friends. This can wait until summer or fall, though. Right now, I am in Sweden.

Before I get to my Swedish brothers and sisters, I have to go on a small rant about something in the US. Forgive me.

Uppsala University has been disorganized, to say the least. There is no central location to pick classes; it's all by department or professor. However, Boston College should be absolutely ashamed of its treatment of exchange students (or at least me). With its infinite e-mailing lists and technology, surely it could sift through the garbage that it dumps in my inbox. Every day I check my e-mail, and I'm flooded with information on internship interviews that take place tomorrow or information about studying abroad next fall. All the information I want to get – either about housing or class selection for the fall – either doesn't get to me or gets lost in the dump. Seriously, BC? And to add insult to grievance, they have the gall to tell me that my inbox is 90% full. Now the third sentence in this worthless paragraph made quite a full-bodied statement, and therefore, I must back it up with something more important (money) than a petty e-mail rant. Swedish students attend Uppsala University for FREE. Yes, no money is required to get a degree, and I can't imagine that BC has to pay much to send me here. So why on earth am I – and by I, I mean not I – paying full BC tuition. Disgraceful.

Okay, now back to a more insightful and pleasant topic.

Swedish Personality
The personality of most the Swedish I've encountered has been slightly off-putting. They are shy and tend to keep to themselves, which in the US is seen as arrogant or selfish. I constantly have to remind myself that this guy or girl isn't mean or not fond of me (catch the double negative?), or maybe they are. When I do speak to a Swedish cashier or attendant, they are always very nice and helpful, and when I get to know a Swede, they are friendly, if not more so, than most Americans.

Swedish Language
In my life so far, I've been able to pick up a decent amount of Spanish and had a relatively easy time speaking the bit of German that I learned freshman year. Swedish is extremely difficult to learn, to pronounce, and to understand. I cannot just read a word how it looks and have a Swede understand me. I cannot understand anything in Swedish. There are 9 vowels: a, e, i, o, u, y, å, ä, ö; each has a distinct sound. The rhythm of spoken Swedish is difficult to get down. It doesn't make it any easier to learn that I can get by EASILY speaking just English. Everyone knows English.

Swedish Stores
The Swedish supermarket is very much like American supermarkets. The Willy's supermarket near my residence even just introduced a fresh-baked bread section. I guess the only major differences are that you have to buy plastic grocery bags if you need them and that you have to bag your own items – hardly illogical. The Swedish also love their lines/queues. Most of the time, you must take a number to be served, such as at the Apoteket (state-run drugstore) and Claus Ohlson (hardware store).

Swedish Government
Well, I'm going to be honest. I don't know much about the Swedish government that has its reputation for being socialist and a welfare state. I do know, from my Swedish History class, that the welfare system is crumbling due to complaints about high taxes and stagnation of the Swedish economy (not just in these times). How many Swedish businesses do you know outside of IKEA or H&M?

Swedish Fish/Meatballs
Okay, to clear this up once and for all, I have NOT been able to find Swedish Fish, and if they do exist in Sweden, they are most certainly NOT called Swedish Fish. As for meatballs, EVERYONE eats meatballs. Most students purchase frozen meatballs and defrost them with gravy and potatoes. I bought some and put them in with pasta. Delicious.

Swedish Weather
Everyone asks me how cold it is here. Yes, by definition Sweden is cold. However, I actually enjoy the climate here in Uppsala more than that in Boston. It is a lot less windy – therefore, no windchill – and the temperature is more temperate (capische?). It never really dips below 25˚F and stays nice and below 40˚. Not terrible. There are a lot less sunny days though. I think right now, there has been 5 cloudy days in a row. Before that I was in Copenhagen, so I don't know.

Small Problems (come on, did you really think I wouldn't complain at all?)
Problem 1: The important webpages (Google, YouTube, and Blogger.com, of course) load in Swedish by default. This gets rather annoying, but I know the Swedish word for preferences now, inställningar.

Problem 2: I can't find any of the typical American drugs in Sweden. Nyquil? Nope. Tylenol? Nope. Cocaine? Nope. Okay, but seriously, I'm not addicted to any of the three, nor have I ever used the latter, but it would be nice to know they are there. I've heard you can get most by prescription, but I don't want to see a doctor. Thanks, Mom, for sending that Nyquil.

Problem 3: The infamous Systembolaget, or state-run liquor store. Thankfully, one can qualify at the ripe old age of 20 to purchase alcohol from here, but the prices are outrageous. In Copenhagen, I paid about half as much for a bottle of rum as I'd have to pay here. In addition, there are no convenient six-, or thirty-packs of beer. I go to a pub most of the time anyway, so this doesn't bother me too much.

Problem 4: Daylight. This one is killer. My biological clock is in ruins at the moment. When I first arrived, it was still rather dark at 8 am. Today, I woke up at 5 am for some odd reason and there was more daylight than at 8 am before. The sun rises earlier each day, so I think I'm going to have to purchase some blackout curtains for my room. Otherwise, I'll be waking up at 4 pretty soon.

That's it for my Swedish culture lesson. I need to go to battle with the laundry machines again (see here), and I leave for Oslo, which I hear is the most expensive city this side of Jupiter, tomorrow. Other than spending my future children's college funds, it should be fun.

Song: "All My Loving" – Jim Sturgess (Across the Universe soundtrack)

One Reason Why I Love Sweden

Yesterday evening was another gasque, this time just for International Students. It was a blast, fueled by alcohol and karaoke. Yes, I did karaoke.

Anyway, I'm not really in a writing mood this morning, but I've decided to [try to] keep you, my loyal readers (all two and a half of you, the half being those who read with less frequency, or at times, a midget) happy. Of course, I also assume that you are happy to begin with and are not just reading this out of pity. But I digress. Given the lack of Swedish-speakers at last night's gasque, the International Committee wrote some special songs in English to the tune of the normal Swedish songs. These are some of the songs we sang at the formal dinner, transcripted directly from the program guide for the evening. I love Sweden.

My Liver
When I was young
in the school canteen
they served me liver
and something green
Let's have revenge
for that liver smell
let's put our own
through a liver hell

Do-Re-Mi-Beer (to the tune of Do-Re-Mi)
DOUGH... the stuff that buys me beer
RAY... the guy that sells me beer
ME... the guy who drinks the beer
FAR... the distance to my beer
SO... I think I'll have a beer
LA... la la la la la beer
TEA... no thanks, I'm drinking beer
...That will bring us back to (look in empty glass)
D'OH!

IF
If the ocean was whiskey
and I was a duck
I would start from the bottom
and drink my way up
But the ocean ain't whiskey
and I'm not a duck
so I take you to my place
and give you a fuck

If the river was brandy
and I was a horse
I would start from the ocean
and drink to the source
But the ocean ain't brandy
and I'm not a horse
so I take you to my place
and take you by force

A Jedi Night (to the tune of Obla-di Obla-da)
Tell me Master Yoda what is wrong with me
Feels like I've been stepped on by a horse.
Could it be that I have drunk a galaxy
and underestimate the dark side of the Force.

Obi-Wan, Obi two, Obi three
hit me with your laser drink.
Obi-Wan, Obi two, come and save me!
Down under the bar I sink.

Waking up next morning was a big ordeal,
thought I had a Leia in my bed,
but you can imagine, Master, how I feel
when I see Jabba lying there with me instead.

Obi-Wan, Obi two, Obi three
warp me to another place.
Obi-Wan, Obi two, come and save me!
Throwing up in hyperspace.

Calm down now, young Skywalker
you will be fine,
R2D2 would have laughed at this.
Help me drink this bottle of Han Solo's wine
and I will tell you who your mother really is.

Obi-Wan, Obi two, Obi three
drink and you will fly alright.
Obi-Wan, Obi two, come and save me!
Man, I had a Jedi night!


One final thing to say: I mentioned what was affectionately called "paint" in one of the last entries. I had something, a Swedish traditional drink snaps, that was far worse. I still taste it this morning.

Sweaters

First, I'd just like to clear the air on a nasty rumor about me that has been circulating. Yes, I DO trim my eyebrows. Otherwise, I'd look like this. Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration.

Okay, now on to the topic. Every Swedish male wears sweaters. Every Swedish male wears sweaters. Brian does not wear sweaters.

Now, anyone that knows me could tell you that I care little about my style. Usual attire for me consists of a t-shirt or Arsenal kit and jeans with sneakers. This fashion (or lack thereof), maybe mainstream in America, makes me stick out like a Hasidic Jew when I'm walking around in Sweden. Okay, another exaggeration.

I am not usually one to pay attention to this, but it's quite obvious that the Swedes are well-dressed. Most Swedes of my age wear nice shoes, tighter jeans than I am used to, and a sweater over a button-down.

I received a package from home today with all sorts of goodies that I haven't been able to find here in Uppsala. Mum was nice enough to send me some Nyquil, dried berries and mixed nuts from Trader Joe's, some vitamins, Emergen-C, and most importantly, my DVDs for all the down time I have here.

I once again cooked a chicken dish tonight – Chicken à la Brian®, as I think it's called. I marinated the chicken in garlic, olive oil, salt, pepper, and paprika for the vast majority of the day and sautéed it along with mushrooms, broccoli, and tomatoes. I ate all of this with some pasta (with olive oil and butter) for my dinner. I topped it all off with a glass of yellowtail® red wine. I'm not going to lie, I felt quite sophisticated. I took a picture to commemorate the occasion, but it will not be included here (due to an extreme, but hopefully temporary, case of laziness).

I found a great website to watch football online, but due to copyright restrictions (actually, I just don't want anyone to clog the bandwith), I cannot share it here. In any case, I watched Argentina (mainly just Lionel Messi) put on a clinic – which finished 2-0 – for the French national team at the Stade Vélodrome in Marseille. Then I watched as curiously only David Beckham and Shaun Wright-Phillips felt up to taking on Spain (the two managed to keep the score to 2-0 also). I suspect the other members of the England team (maybe even Capello) enjoyed the Sevilla nightlife a bit too much last night. But Xavi is the best footballer in the world right now.

I'd like to stay up to watch the ever-entertaining United States v. Mexico World Cup Qualifying match, but it begins at 4:00. I have an appointment to wash my clothes tomorrow at 13:00, and given the size of the laundry monster inhabiting the Southwest corner of my room at the moment, I cannot miss it.

Song: "Twenty-Five Miles" – Edwin Starr

Snow

As of now it has been snowing for the last three days and has been scheduled to snow for the next five. I have been in some less-than-satisfactory weather in my life – that Thanksgiving in Mammoth when the entire mountain closed down, or the freezing rain of Boston – and a day here doesn't compare to those times. But never in those places has the sun failed to shine for so many days. I feel like I am in Seattle.

On the brighter side, some fellow international students and I took a trip to Stockholm from Uppsala (about a 40-minute train ride) yesterday. We left at nine in the morning, which may seem early to you, but as I have had trouble sleeping lately, I had been up for four hours already. More on that later.

We arrived at about 10:30 and walked to the royal palace. Now in London, the palace guards are famous for their nifty red suits and their lack of movement. King Gustav's guards here are equipped with the very latest in military apparel and a shiny M-16 with a shiny bayonet – rather more intimidating. They also move, and therefore, look alive. We stuck around until 12:00 to watch the changing of the guard, which seemed to take hours given the freezing rain we were subjected to. It was a rather comical ceremony. Each time we figured it was coming to an end, a Swedish general would begin speaking into a microphone (which he held too far from his mouth so we could not hear him), alternating in English and Swedish. The highlight of the ceremony was the palace's drummers, which were extremely talented (tossing their sticks as they played and whatnot).

We then decided to find food, strangely deciding to give Sweden's tacos a try. If I'm being honest with you, it was comparable to Taco Bell and did not sit well. This was only a day after I had eaten curry and felt sick – a rather stereotypical Indian food experience I had not yet recovered from.

After warming up inside the restaurant we headed to the Moderna Museet, or Modern Art Museum. Oddly, given what I would politely call an apathy for artwork, I actually enjoyed the museum, which featured works by my countrymen Jackson Pollock and Andy Warhol. Although it was interesting, I felt we spent too long in the museum (but friends make sacrifices, right?).

We left the musuem in search of, obviously, a pub. We found one near Stockholm Central Station but were astounded to find that one pint cost 66: SEK or $8 USD. Some of us abandoned the plan to purchase a fizzy and headed to the nearby Max instead. Sweden's energy-conscious version of McDonald's tastes about the same, but the service is much friendlier! If there is one thing I have noticed about the Swedish so far, it is that they are very friendly people. I just have to be the one to make contact, as they are also very shy.

After a long day, I returned to my room and finally got my first good night of sleep in Sweden.