I haven't felt I've done anything particularly exciting or worth mentioning in the past week, but I believe I've made it to THREE readers and with that level of readership, I feel I should at least write of my cultural mishaps thus far.
The three that I am still laughing at myself for are all grocery related but equally ridiculous. My first grocery trip, instead of butter I bought a cube of this brown, clay-like junk, which I later learned was yeast, and did absolutely nothing to salvage my morning eggs. After my move, my host-chick asked if I was planning on buying milk, which seemed like a strange question at the time, until I saw the wall of milk varieties. Swedes take their dairy very seriously - there was laughter when I mentioned how we have choices too; 1%, 2%, skim, and whole. That is mere child's play in the dairy department. I, of course, managed to come home with sour cream. I fucking hate sour cream. Lastly, I buy what I think is olive oil, pour some into a bowl with balsamic vinegarette and watch as the two mysteriously coalesce, defying my mass of knowledge on oil and vinegar. I then notice the label on my olive oil reads "vinäger" and smells of dying Easter eggs. Even with my feeble Swedish skills, I could see that just because it was cheapest and of a similar color to the other olive oils, doesn't necessary make something olive oil. Live and learn. And replace most of my groceries.
Really, the most jarring difference of my 2+ week Swedish vacation of absolutely no responsibilities, is the lack of noticeable difference. I'm living in a large town, which without the student population is relatively meager in size; predominantly caucasian, mainly English speaking. I haven't been challenged by what should be considered a language barrier, my hair stands out as much as it does in the states (though I am somehow even more noticeably below average in height here, the calcium from all of that milk treats the Swedes well. I can't see below my hairline in the mirrors hanging on the walls of my flat...), the academic advisors are equally unhelpful, and I watched "Talladega Nights" with my host-chick and -dude earlier this week. I'm torn on my feelings on all of this, since I'm quite attached to a place in North Carolina incredibly similar to here, and this falls a bit short in the demand for cultural assimilation I was hoping for with my first time living outside of my country. From New York to North Carolina was a much more jarring transition.
A difference that I love here, though, is the open spaces. I want to explore them more, but even what I saw on my journeys by train last week between cities, the amount of undeveloped land was beautiful and boundless. The best experience I've had with it so far, was on a run one of my first days here, through my neighborhood. A kilometer or so from my apartment, I reached a point where a shopping mall and highway was in the distance, the neighborhood of apartments behind me, and directly in front of me - open fields, wind turbines, a nature reserve with a creek, apple trees, berries, and dozens of sheep munching on delicious grass. I visit the sheep often, but they don't seem particularly interested in friendship. Even more exciting, is the freedom with this open space. Somewhere in the depths of Sweden's government, there's something called "The Old Man's Law", which states that so long as you don't purposefully destroy land, all of Sweden is your playground. You can set up camp anywhere (including private property, if you ask first) for free, eat from the trees, and explore behind any fenced in area - since locking them is not the Swedish way. Yesterday, I saw a family with a wooden dining room table and chairs, candles, balloons, fancy placesettings, paper lanterns in the trees and all set up down the hill and next to the creek surrounded by the sheep that pay them no mind.
My last anecdote is part of my transition to a place where I stand out slightly less for lacking any sort of dominant physical genes. I've only seen two or three redheads, but the rest looks like I stepped into Barbie's dreamworld or long, lanky blondes. An adorably old lady, at first in Swedish, but then in broken English, complimented my hair at a time when my efforts to preserve my recessive genes had gone unnoticed for a week or so; an unheard of time for the little ol' ladies in the U.S. to let pass. Recessive gene ego, effectively stroked!
Term officially opened today, yet I still have no classes to attend. Today's goals: become a student again, and buy a bike!
Monday, September 1, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Movin' and Shakin'
Of course, I already stink at this. An entry I wrote while in an internet-less abyss from a few days back, before I enter what will hopefully be a less eventful and more productive week...
Week 1: A doozy.
Either I’ve waited far too long to post something here (though to my credit, I’ve only had access to the internet for 2 days, and many bizarre things to deal with that took precedence) or too much has happened, because beginning to write is overwhelming. I won’t feel too bad rambling on and on, though, since I don’t think anyone’s noticed the link I put up on Facebook anyways.
The actual travel across Big Water went as smoothly as can be – much to my surprise. Simone and I traveled with two others from Globe and were met by the “buddies” at the airport. Her buddy is a Swede who (this is even more ominous later, read on!) called Lund “a student’s paradise….and Helsingborg, a nice cit---town.” Originally, my application for study and housing was in Lund but somehow the gods above (a.k.a my advisor here, took it upon herself to switch me to Helsingborg, a city an hour north with a satellite campus). I stayed for night in Copenhagen and had what could easily be confused with a night in Chapel Hill – we all hung out at Bruer’s, the only real difference being that we bought the alcohol legally.
The next morning, I took the train back to the Copenhagen airport and further on to Lund. Waiting for the train to Lund, I sat next to a young guy and girl speaking in French. My jet-lagged brain thought I saw the airport code for Newark on their bags but wondered why people from France in Denmark traveling to Sweden would have detoured to Jersey in between. Later I met them online with the other international students; they were from Montreal and did go through Newark! I felt a bit less crazy.
I checked in at Lund, instantly fell in love with the town, the old university buildings and the excitement of the hundreds of other exchange students checking in around me – and was escorted back to the train station to carry on alone, to Helsingborg. Bummer. I kept my thoughts as optimistic as possible and arrived an hour later to a beautiful coastal city. Helsingborg is, from what I understand, the fourth largest city in Sweden, and the closest point along the strait to Denmark’s city, Helsingor (creative naming).
My apartment in Helsingborg is – interesting. It’s a few kilometers outside of the city center (a fifteen minute bus ride, I miss free public transportation already). It’s in an apartment complex, it’s furnished entirely by IKEA – from the furniture to the cutlery, playing into all of my stereotypes. There are no young people, or people in general to be found in the complex; across the street are cows and horses (which I can’t deny I love) and an old windmill, behind the building is some sort of gigantic alien spacecraft in a park (at least that’s my best guess). The “university” here is a satellite campus of about 2,000 students who all seem to be invisible. The “campus” is a single building consisting of classrooms and a bunch of people who had no idea who I was or why an exchange student was bothering them, an hour removed from where they would have guessed she would be. (Start feeling nervous!!). I finally found a woman who took pity on me and talked to me, found out only one of my classes was held at this campus, the rest on main campus, and advised me if I wanted to enjoy my time in Sweden, move back to the other city as soon as possible, because there was nothing here but classrooms for native students, and certainly nothing else for an exchange student looking for a positive experience. More red flags.
I took matters into my own hands the next day, knowing that I would not be happy like this, and the few days of near total isolation were quickly driving me to insanity. I quickly learned that Lund accepts far more international students than they can accommodate and the city apparently is the hottest spot on the housing market in the free world. Who knew?! The red flags are on fire at this point. My mind is swirling with ideas of semesters off, returning to work in Chapel Hill, epic defeat, having a suitcase of the most worthless junk ever and work on an organic farm through the fall, commuting an hour and a half in Sweden for classes, swimming the Atlantic, and getting another one of those miracle exits from my stickiest of situations. I decided on the last choice.
The next morning, I again traveled to Lund and met with a twenty four year old named Fanny who recently married to Martin. They live about a fifteen minute walk from the heart of Lund and were looking to rent to a female who spoke English as her native language. Their apartment is filled with plants and the color green and tree designs and she’s a vegetarian and he’s an environmental engineer and I’m a girl and speak English! Match made in heaven. She told me she received over one hundred responses to the ad she posted in less than 24 hours but because the stars aligned overhead, they offered me the room (collective sigh of relief!) (bigger than that!!!).
So now, just four days into life in Sweden, I have to pack everything up and prepare to move to my second Swedish city. Somehow, my belongings seemed to have dispersed every which way but I am excited for the move and optimistic about my experience ahead; which up until this afternoon, I thought might be one of my biggest disappointments and failures to date.
Week 1: A doozy.
Either I’ve waited far too long to post something here (though to my credit, I’ve only had access to the internet for 2 days, and many bizarre things to deal with that took precedence) or too much has happened, because beginning to write is overwhelming. I won’t feel too bad rambling on and on, though, since I don’t think anyone’s noticed the link I put up on Facebook anyways.
The actual travel across Big Water went as smoothly as can be – much to my surprise. Simone and I traveled with two others from Globe and were met by the “buddies” at the airport. Her buddy is a Swede who (this is even more ominous later, read on!) called Lund “a student’s paradise….and Helsingborg, a nice cit---town.” Originally, my application for study and housing was in Lund but somehow the gods above (a.k.a my advisor here, took it upon herself to switch me to Helsingborg, a city an hour north with a satellite campus). I stayed for night in Copenhagen and had what could easily be confused with a night in Chapel Hill – we all hung out at Bruer’s, the only real difference being that we bought the alcohol legally.
The next morning, I took the train back to the Copenhagen airport and further on to Lund. Waiting for the train to Lund, I sat next to a young guy and girl speaking in French. My jet-lagged brain thought I saw the airport code for Newark on their bags but wondered why people from France in Denmark traveling to Sweden would have detoured to Jersey in between. Later I met them online with the other international students; they were from Montreal and did go through Newark! I felt a bit less crazy.
I checked in at Lund, instantly fell in love with the town, the old university buildings and the excitement of the hundreds of other exchange students checking in around me – and was escorted back to the train station to carry on alone, to Helsingborg. Bummer. I kept my thoughts as optimistic as possible and arrived an hour later to a beautiful coastal city. Helsingborg is, from what I understand, the fourth largest city in Sweden, and the closest point along the strait to Denmark’s city, Helsingor (creative naming).
My apartment in Helsingborg is – interesting. It’s a few kilometers outside of the city center (a fifteen minute bus ride, I miss free public transportation already). It’s in an apartment complex, it’s furnished entirely by IKEA – from the furniture to the cutlery, playing into all of my stereotypes. There are no young people, or people in general to be found in the complex; across the street are cows and horses (which I can’t deny I love) and an old windmill, behind the building is some sort of gigantic alien spacecraft in a park (at least that’s my best guess). The “university” here is a satellite campus of about 2,000 students who all seem to be invisible. The “campus” is a single building consisting of classrooms and a bunch of people who had no idea who I was or why an exchange student was bothering them, an hour removed from where they would have guessed she would be. (Start feeling nervous!!). I finally found a woman who took pity on me and talked to me, found out only one of my classes was held at this campus, the rest on main campus, and advised me if I wanted to enjoy my time in Sweden, move back to the other city as soon as possible, because there was nothing here but classrooms for native students, and certainly nothing else for an exchange student looking for a positive experience. More red flags.
I took matters into my own hands the next day, knowing that I would not be happy like this, and the few days of near total isolation were quickly driving me to insanity. I quickly learned that Lund accepts far more international students than they can accommodate and the city apparently is the hottest spot on the housing market in the free world. Who knew?! The red flags are on fire at this point. My mind is swirling with ideas of semesters off, returning to work in Chapel Hill, epic defeat, having a suitcase of the most worthless junk ever and work on an organic farm through the fall, commuting an hour and a half in Sweden for classes, swimming the Atlantic, and getting another one of those miracle exits from my stickiest of situations. I decided on the last choice.
The next morning, I again traveled to Lund and met with a twenty four year old named Fanny who recently married to Martin. They live about a fifteen minute walk from the heart of Lund and were looking to rent to a female who spoke English as her native language. Their apartment is filled with plants and the color green and tree designs and she’s a vegetarian and he’s an environmental engineer and I’m a girl and speak English! Match made in heaven. She told me she received over one hundred responses to the ad she posted in less than 24 hours but because the stars aligned overhead, they offered me the room (collective sigh of relief!) (bigger than that!!!).
So now, just four days into life in Sweden, I have to pack everything up and prepare to move to my second Swedish city. Somehow, my belongings seemed to have dispersed every which way but I am excited for the move and optimistic about my experience ahead; which up until this afternoon, I thought might be one of my biggest disappointments and failures to date.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Pre-Travels
Before I leave the land of accessible (and free!) internet, I decided to join the pack and set up an account here for travel and the occassional adventure updates -- all while my ever-responsible self has abandoned my empty suitcases to pack themselves. While I've ventured across The Pond before, I haven't done so alone and I haven't done so with so very few details. Tomorrow, I'll leave for Copenhagen, Denmark with Simone as my travel buddy. I'll then be on my own to continue to Lund, Sweden to pick up my keys for an apartment in a city approximately 50 minutes north, in Helsingborg. My nerves a-flutterin' after exclusively shady and inconsistent emailing from my first Swedish advisor and no contact at all from my current advisor in Helsingborg. But!!! I've decided to stick with my typical life-plan, which is that all will work out. Hopefully through the kindness and street-smarts of strangers.
I'm the only UNC student in the program this year, bringing the grand total of Swedish-bound Tar Heels in Carolina history somewhere near a whopping half dozen. A wise Texan's parting advice to me, was to remember that the rest of this year, at the very least, will undoubtedly leave me with a great bunch of bizarre stories to tell -- so off I go.
P.S. - Excellence points for catching the song reference.
I'm the only UNC student in the program this year, bringing the grand total of Swedish-bound Tar Heels in Carolina history somewhere near a whopping half dozen. A wise Texan's parting advice to me, was to remember that the rest of this year, at the very least, will undoubtedly leave me with a great bunch of bizarre stories to tell -- so off I go.
P.S. - Excellence points for catching the song reference.
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