Bon Voyage

Goodbye Sweden! Hello America!

Germany continued...

On Friday night, while out and about in Berlin, my cell phone was drunk dialed no less than eight times by a Swedish woman. She wouldn't stop calling so I passed her around from friend to friend and everyone had a go at talking with this woman. Finally, she said that she just wanted to "wish Martin a happy birthday." Now, this sort of thing has happened before. While at the farm I accidentally text messaged a wrong number. The return texts I received were quite bellicose and belligerent. I wonder who these Swedes think I am? It's a mystery but apparently I'm an asshole who just had a birthday.

I spent a sunny Saturday cruising around the city by myself. I saw many things that I had not bothered to visit last time: a photography exhibit by Hiroshi Sugimoto at the New National Gallery, the victory column, and the back of the parliamentary building. It was basically a day spent reading all around the city with time in between spent taking photographs. Where there once was sunlight, a particularly favorite street of my was darkened by the skeletal beginnings of a new office complex. I crossed the Spree in front of the Bode Museum and watched part of a open-air performance on a theater boat. Beside the boat swam a family of eight swans. For dinner I stopped at my favorite cafe, the Oranium, and had Brie toasted with a sesame coating and served with spiced salad, jelly with cream, and a slice of watermelon. Perhaps I dined above my status, but it was my one and only sit-down meal in a Berlin restaurant for the trip.

For the rest of the time, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, I was with Gabi and Felix, her son. We worked on weeding and mulching the garden, Felix and I watched youtube videos together, we went shopping, saw a movie, ate our meals together, and went to a lake for a swim. We baked some brownies and were thoroughly stumped as to what the German equivalent of Vegetable oil would be. We settled on sunflower oil, which still had a bit of a taste - the search for the perfect oil goes on. My last day in Berlin, Gabi bought herself an awesome skirt and me a rockin' jacket. There is no other way to describe this piece of clothing. It is simply too original! After Felix had gone to bed, Gabi and I had a glass of "bio" wine over some "girl chat." Even though we both had to get up early the following morning, we stayed up, burning the midnight oil.

And THAT was my trip to Berlin. When I got back to Sweden, it was with a rush of good and elated feelings. Travel is happening a lot lately. If you haven't been watching the calender, perhaps you missed the fact that I return to America next week. I don't really know what to think about that exactly. Good to be home, good to see family? I will only be at home a short time before starting a new chapter of my life in Austria. Ah, how time keeps pushing onward.

Back from Tyskland

The first thing I noticed when back in Sweden after my week in Berlin was the air quality. It smells fresh and open here; whether because of the cool breeze or lack of humidity, I am not sure. It might seem strange to start this entry with talk of Sweden after having already spent so much time here but I am still learning of this strange northern country.

But back to Germany...

Berlin has a peculiar trait affectionately dubbed the "Berliner Luft" (Berlin air) by its' denizens. The air reeks in Berlin. It smells of all the cuisine of the world mixed in one room, of said cuisine rotting under the streets, of cars and trollies, and all things worth mentioning as well as those that aren't. The wind carries everything imaginable through the city. Even on the outskirts of Berlin, in the district known as Tempelhof where I stayed, the smells drift down from the narrower streets up town. It's unique yet easy to forget and it wasn't until I was back in Sweden that I thought, "dang, it smells fresh here."

I took an afternoon flight to Berlin using Germanwings, a very affordable and convenient airline. I arrived early at the airport, which is my style when traveling alone, and decided to splurge on a novel to help pass the time. I chose a Swedish book called The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (a completely bogus title for a book originally called "Men who Hate Women" in Swedish) for 99 kronor. Anyway, it is EXTREMELY GOOD and it reads fast; I finished it in the five days I was in Germany and you know I didn't spend the whole time there reading.

At the airport in Berlin, two friends were there to greet me. It was uplifting to see their faces after so long. Heather, somebody I hadn't expected to see in Berlin ever again and John, a Witt-er who I never anticipated meeting in Germany. Together, we traveled to my host's house in Tempelhof via the S-bahn (street train). When we arrived at my host's home we poked around the neighborhood listening - and smelling - for a barbecue that we were invited to attend. Our searching proved fruitless so I desperately made the decision to visit the neighbors who, out of the 5 people in the family, I had tutored three of them. I hoped that they would maybe be able to tell us where the barbecue was. Instead we three were directly invited inside - almost as if we were expected - and fed much food and German beer. They didn't know where the party was but entertained us instead. It was great fortune that brought us together because I wasn't able to see them again during my stay.

Around 9:30pm we left to try and find the party one more time. We returned to find a map lovingly taped to my host's door and I was joyfully reunited with my host of last fall, Gabi (pronounced gahbi). The night was spent under an ivy consumed lattice with more food and much jocund conversation.

That was Thursday. Friday I met up with my friends on Friedrichstrasse, a very long and popular street that crosses the Spree (pronounced Shpray) an connects to many pubs, restaurants, and theaters. We shopped and walked around, enjoying the familiar sights (and smells). At noon we went to the Opera House Cafe, on a street named "Under the Linden Trees", for an expensive tea and to look at their many fantastical tortes. I got to meet some of their new classmates, including a guy from CA who had recently been to Slovakia visiting relatives. The four of us then continued wandering and ate Curry Wurst for lunch (I am officially in love with Wiki for having that entry) before loosing John to a insane voyage to Amsterdam.

Heather and I eventually parted with the CA dude and went back to my house for a jacket, the evenings being unexpectedly chilly. Around 11pm we met up with a Taiwanese friend of mine in a more lively section of town known as Kreuzberg. All said and done, I didn't get home until 3:30am. Even at that, I was the FIRST one back - two other girls are renting from Gabi at the moment and I am more of a homebody than all of them.

Ah, and now this writing is becoming something that I hate - a raw rundown of things that were totally enjoyable and worth writing with more flavor and energy. I will continue more with adventures from Germany tomorrow!

For now, I am full of delicious Indian food and ice cream. Carl bought me a book today (is there anything that could make this heart swell more than the gift of a book? I think not). ;) And now I'm whiling away the evening hours chatting with friends, writing a blog, and about to watch some Japanese TV.

Nighty Night!

A Recap of Days Past

Rain has finally come to Sweden! For the past few days Sweden has been one long and dreary rain cloud. It started on Sunday and just now broke. Rain coupled with the cold wind has created cool temperatures in the mid to lower 60s. I'm wearing a sweater as I type this! Very peculiar summer weather, in my opinion. Yet it tempts me - future summers spent in Sweden where the cool weather hides? Who knows. I DO know that if I ever return, it will be to an occupation! This lassitude wears me thin and if what they say is true, that you only live once, then I need a preoccupation. That problem, thankfully, is in the distant future.

The rain kind of threw a wrench into our plans for the weekend. On top of the precipitation, Carl had to spend significant time studying Chinese for a retest he has in a couple of weeks. Undaunted these days, I gladly spent Sunday studying with him (I was locked in a battle with Japanese, of course). ;) I spend a lot of time rereading all the texts in my book. I'm slowly relearning and sometimes learning all the kanji (the Chinese pictographs in Japanese writing). A distant dream of opening my Japanese copy of Stargirl, by Jerry Spinelli, and READING the thing leads me onward. It's a hard road but I have the time.

Monday started off cloudy and humid. The two of us went into Stockholm for two reasons: to visit the Vasa Museum and get Carl to a dentist appointment. Now, the Vasa Museum won points for Sweden in terms of awesome-ness. Zoo? DON'T do that. Go to see the Vasa, a Swedish battleship that sank on its maiden voyage to the bottom of the bay, resurrected some 333 years later and placed in a museum built for one. I personally found it ironic - Sweden capitalizing on a failure of the past - but that hunk of wood is 'wow'. It's monolithic and opulent, adorned with intricate carvings and sculptures. No wonder the thing sank! Read up on the history at the website; I found it interesting.

Yesterday, already Tuesday, it was rainy and cold again. We spent another four or so hours studying at home base in Flogsta. I helped Carl build some charts to help lead him through the world of Chinese words before returning to my own language battle a bit frustrated by my slow pace. We didn't really do much other than that. Mobility is a bit limited when you only have one bike and no raincoats. We had dinner and watched a few movies, listened to the wind and the rain. I was quite satisfied to stay indoors in the warmth. If I were an animal, what would I be? I can be quite active when it's sunny and I'm full of food or sugars. Throw me in a warm room and I turn to putty. Not a sloth... Not a squirrel... I guess I'm just a 'Katie.'

Tomorrow I depart from Sweden for the first time. I'll be heading over to Berlin and will be greeted by a Berlin friend and a Witt student of '09 studying abroad. I have nary a clue as to what I want to or will do. Missing the Olympics (don't they start very soon?) has me down but maybe I can mooch TV from somewhere. Mostly I'm just ecstatic about seeing the place and friends. I could very easily loose myself in the streets remembering good times. Gotta watch out for that.

My trip only lasts 6 days. Too much and too little. I'm almost finished here and already the days are folding up and filing themselves into memories faster than my internal secretary can process them. ALWAYS. Always, everything happens at the end of a trip. Is this the curse of a procrastinator? But how can one consciously procrastinate from TIME?

Carl is back at work again. I'm left alone to wait for tomorrow when my adventure starts as soon as I get on the train to the airport. Anxious and excited. I feel strange, delicate. Like the last leaf of fall, waiting alone on the tree branch as the wind picks up. It's good. This is good, I tell myself. Finally moving. I'm readying myself to blow away.

p.s. Check the album for new pictures!

Wind-up Energy

It's been a few days and I'm not exactly sure where to start. This post might unravel with little attention paid to chronology. I apologize and will my best to keep things in a straight line.

In retrospect, one of the best and healthiest things that happened to me over the past few days was accomplishing everything that I had set out to do. It really was only doing laundry and spending time at the library studying Japanese but I did them both - pushing myself to stay on track.

At the library I learned that I'd forgotten a lot of Japanese, which I had expected, and yet remembered more, which I had NOT expected. Granted, I recognized the hard path ahead of me, the path of relearning, but i didn't feel overly daunted. I do have an honest love of studying Japanese and that love impresses me and burdens me with hope.

Before leaving the library, I stopped by the children's section for a book that might aid my study of Swedish. I picked up several books and each had cartoon drawings of brash naked boys. Even though I no longer feel pious and pickled about the human body, I just don't feel like looking at that effigy of un-grown masculinity. I also thought that maybe I was in a 'special' section of the child's library. Bemused, I opted for a book with loads of animals and a hairy professor in it. Safe topics, surely?

A thunderstorm had picked up and I had to wait in the overhang with other patrons as the rain washed down. It hadn't rained in a few days and I imagine the Swedish soil is growing desperately thirsty. But today it is raining as well and even though I felt like going to the library, I'm staying inside to avoid the cold wind and rain. Writing a blog seems like the perfect thing for today.

The rest of the day was mundane, if I recall. I did laundry. A few drunk people tried to scare me from an upper floor of the building. I watched Master and Commander, read from a book, and slept.

Sometime during that day, I hashed out my travel plans for Germany. Next week I'm going to Berlin for around 6 days. I'll be staying with friends and my old host family and visiting my old haunts - or, rather, haunting my old haunts. If it were possible to feel nervous, excited, and calm all at once, then that would be me. Lord, those four months in Berlin were some of the best in my life and I'm still trying to figure out why. But I do know the half of it - great friends, great teachers, great food. It's all wrapped up in an intangible feeling of joy, love, and peace.

I had tried to make plans to visit my family in southern Germany; a retired post master and a skilled housewife. Yet they, as I said, cannot host me. It was a shame. I'd found a ticket for 0 kronor to Frankfurt. Ah well, my roll at the slots didn't pan out perfect.

So I'm going to Berlin again!

Last night I took the 9:15pm train back to Uppsala from Stockholm. Behind me a Swede was talking in his cell phone and I felt like I was riding right in his lap. It wasn't necessarily bad, rather comforting. His voice was low, sad, and it came around me like an old friend whispering in my ear while we shared an embrace after a long absence. I imagined him to be young and for a brief moment, I felt as if we were somehow connected. For the past few days, I've felt dreamy and open; riding an impenetrable cloud.

I was in Stockholm because I was spending the day with a Belgium girl with a penchant for coffee, who I had met on the farm. We crammed our day with so much! We talked smack about the crazy lady who 'ran' the farm, went canoing around the archipelago, ate meat, shopped at a million souvenir stores, ogled the huge cruise ships, drank beer, drank coffee, hashed out her path to one of the airports around Stockholm, and finished up with Turkish pizza. She's studying Biology and in three years, when she's finished up, we playfully made plans to WWOOF around the world - hitting countries like Japan, Australia, Russia, America, Romania, Hungary. We're still not set on the particulars but it would be cool to spend a week or two in each place before moving around the globe. We're each taking friends. Any takers?

I got home and was still overly full from the food. After some time on the internet, I finally managed to rest for about two hours. Awakened at the unholy hour of 2:30am by my childhood affliction of foot cramps, I was pressed once more back to the internet where I chatted with a friend, read this poem, and wrote on a friend's wall. I have a friend from Wittenberg, a mostly Facebook friend, who is an artist with words as well as with his hands. Every once in a while, I feel like being an artist too and we banter philosophical thoughts back and forth. Last night, feeling empowered, I wrote this:

I used to stand at the mouth of a life resembling a cone. The walls pressing ever inward, converging on a dark and distant point in time. Yet now I've found my way to turn around and see life as an ever opening array of unknown possibility where talk of light and dark, day and night - as if they were sentient forces - makes me sigh outward, because I believe they are no longer so definable for me.


With that, you are pretty much up to date with my life. I'm debating the merit of running in the rain or braving the weather and biking in to town. Or maybe I'll just rest here... and read a bit.

Restored Hope in Humanity

Yesterday I hit a snag trying to get back to Uppsala from Rimbo, the location of Carl's work. I'd purchased a general ticket that would work out in the boonies as well as with Stockholm transportation (yay!). But when I boarded the bus and handed the driver my ticket he spouted some Swedish, to which I replied:

"English, please?"
*driver stares*
"Engelska?"
*driver stares some more*
"I'm sorry, I don't speak Swedish..."
*driver stares more and more*

At this point I was reaching for my ticket, ready to depart, and quite certain something was not connecting in the driver's brain, when a young lady behind me explained the situation. The ticket, for whatever reason yet known, only works for half the distance and an additional 60 kronor is needed (about $10). Now I was out of cash and just figured on finding an ATM and boarding the next departing bus when the girl offered to loan me the cash and come with me to an ATM in Uppsala after arriving.

There you go! Humanity 1; Demon bus driver: 0

The girl was really nice and in Uppsala we found an ATM where I paid her back no sweat. We had fun chatting; she's studying to be a nurse and works in the maternity ward of the city hospital. Very nice girl. She also told me that the bus driver had obviously understood English, but either wasn't comfortable communicating with it, or was being obstinate. She seemed frustrated by the guy as well, who had done the exact same thing yesterday. Meh. So all you who wish to travel to Sweden, EVERYONE speaks English EXCEPT maybe the bus drivers.

Today has been really relaxed. After waking up, I walked to the grocery store for some milk along with some very thin and bitter yogurt (goes well with müsli) to go with breakfast. I spent the remaining morning battling monsters and Genesis copies on my brother's PSP. The game, Final Fantasy: Crisis Core, is really good with great graphics, sound, and battle mode. It's keeping me busy.

I'm slowly making travel plans to Germany but they definately aren't happening fast enough. I called my family in DE but they are still locked in familial misfortune and can't host me. That leaves just Berlin. I'm searching for some cheap hostels and poking around Berlin friends for a place to stay. My old host family is doing renovations on their home and won't be available until the 11th - 1 day after my friend leaves Berlin. So I have to scramble and find a hostel for the 7th-10th.

My goals today are laundry and library!

A Link to the Photos in Largeness

Swedeland Adventures

Boarding a New Thought Train.

Sometimes, I believe in that colonial technique of bleeding a patient to get rid of the bad humors infecting the body. In my case, it's bleeding my mind of all the poisonous thoughts and feelings that inundate it at times. Here I am, on a new and much more positive thought-train. I would like to thank all of you for being so patient with me, reading during the sad times as well as the happy ones!

To celebrate my independence from my crippling emotions, I did something that my dad and I would normally do on any Sunday morning. I went for a bike ride. I biked all around the suburb of Uppsala where I am living. I tried to bike out but the funny thing (and albeit frustrating one as well) was the circular circumstances of those roads. In the end, after arriving back at Flogsta or in Uppsala, I concluded that all roads lead home.

It wasn't bad at all except for the sun being a little strong.

Side note: This part of Sweden has been locked in a heat wave. Get ready for it, all you who suffer with USA heat: It was 87 degrees. I actually had a good sweat! Granted it was restricted to certain (dare I say, NORMAL) parts of the body, like the arm pits. I only mention this detailed bit because, from experience, even your fingers sweat in Pennsylvania heat.

I biked, enjoying the freedom of having wheels. I had time to think back on all the fun bike hikes my dad I and I did, like the Perkiomen Trail. I really want to go biking in Pennsylvania again. Anyway, it was good to think of other things, to get outside, and to move. I ended up finding a new way to the distant grocery store, where I got some refreshment and spent about an hour relaxing and people watching.

Then I went back to the room, cleaned up, and went out to pick up Carl from the train station. There is one thing that I will never get used to and that's riding on the back of my own bicycle. It's unbelievably fun and unique to just sit and chill while someone else peddles. Granted, it was only last night on the way back from the movie theater that we discovered the comfort of putting a towel on the metal rack that I have to sit on. Eh, live and learn.

Yesterday was tons of fun! Carl and I got up at a decent hour and made breakfast of cereal and french toast (note: french toast really does work on any bread. Even the dark and nutty kind). Then we did some errands in Uppsala before getting on a train to Stockholm. We had grand plans to visit the Zoo because Carl had never even seen an elephant in real life! Visits to the zoo have always been treasured memories in my life, from huge birds with diarrhea to ring-tailed Lemurs. When Carl told me that he'd NEVER experienced such a thing, my new life's mission appeared.

Under the setting of another glaringly hot Swedish summer day, we went to "The Zoo." It turns out that my perceptions and Swedish perceptions of caged animals aren't exactly kosher in agreement. Many people - I say this because I hope I'm not a minority - envision African animals when they think of zoos. Swedes, ironically, think of Scandinavian animals. For me it wasn't that much of a let-down because I'm not familiar with what runs around in the bushes up here. But what about the Swedes?

My favorites were the baby wild boars, the moose, and the terrifying bunnies. Most of the zoo was a petting zoo for kids with cows, horses, sheep, and goats. The rest of the park was a mixture of farmsteads from all over Sweden. Now THAT was neat. We got to see all the different kinds of buildings and farms. One home had its' walls covered in beautiful faded murals, painted by traveling peasants. It might be the way I grew up but I'll never get tired of looking at (and smelling. mmm...) old houses.

After a few hours in the "Zoo", we walked back to a Japanese restaurant near the station and ate about 25 pieces of sushi between the two of us - shout out to Anna who is off in Japan eating the real deal right now! I really want to revisit that Japanese restaurant in Dayton, Ohio again. Good food! Mom and I are going to the Fair at New Boston out there come end of August. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that a trip into town could happen. *wink wink*

But I'm skipping ahead! The walk to the restaurant was amazing. We'd taken the bus to the zoo and had decided to walk back along the pier and waterfront. There were many wooden boats and some that appeared to be for fishing pleasure. Across the harbor we could also see the huge cruise ships. "Is this close to what the Titanic looked like," I wondered as we walked along. Their tall decks completely covered the Stockholm skyline, the ships were that big.

I always imagine the waterfront and docks to be jovial and active. The water never rests and the ships are always moving, even if ever so slightly, rubbing against the dock and crooning like sleeping dogs. People are always running about the docks too. Hauling luggage, walking along, or buying food from vendors. During the day, it just seems like the happiest place to be.

Full of sushi and yummy wasabi, we jumped a train home. In town, we bought tickets to go see Prince Caspian at the theater. Good movie, I have to say. Probably good for all the wrong reasons. The Narnia films are so CLEAN. It's hard for me not to like the freshness of the backdrop over the quality of acting or dialog.

As for today, I started this post yesterday and didn't get through it till right now. I'll have to write more later.

Season's greetings!

Saturday End

Not much new here. Literally.

Big news is that I got my bike 'fixed' with a minimal exchange of words. I think the dude said five words total. All in all, he just made me empty air out of the tire to make it stop rubbing against the fender. Now, I'm no bike genius but seriously. Anyway, my bike is back to the same amount of sound excretion as it was before the accident.

Today I went into the city and almost got myself locked up in the town library. I heard a big bell ring at 2pm but I paid it no mind. While reading the shelves, my security sensor inside my brain went off. I heard absolutely no SOUND coming from anywhere else in the library. I scuttled down the stairs and literally ran out the door before being locked in - I think I surprised the brownness outa a few of the employees. Yes, I am quiet but No, I don't want to spend the day and night in your library. Although... it probably wouldn't have effected my life very much.

I spent time wandering around, looking at a few Saturday markets (Swedish crap looks EXACTLY like American crap), got some ice cream, tried to get dinner (before the ice cream!) but every restaurant I went to was either closed or the people were on holiday. GAH! Granted, I was going for the obscure restaurants: Japanese and Indian. Ah well. Ice cream serves as well as any other somewhat nourishing meal. I read beside the river, watched fish, you know - normal things.

All in all, being in a city again - mingling with people just reminds me that I still have a bunch of unnecessary fears. Fear of looking people in the eye, fear of going into strange places, afraid of being approached. It comes in waves, these fears. Sometimes I don't give a hoot what's happening around me or where I am. Today I just felt like crawling under a rock, I felt so alone. Really, the only alien on the planet. Am I suitable for normal human interactions?

These past few days and particularly this evening as I received a call from my other that he's not coming to see me today, has revealed several things to me about myself.

1. When left with only one person to depend on for all modes of interaction, I become excessively dependent on that person. Cripplingly so. So much so that, it hurts us both.

2. I'm not really happy if I don't have an occupation, a goal. It's hard for me to sit around here with nothing to do, no one to talk to. I have no ambition so I become really listless and despondent - relying, ironically, even harder on my other. It's a cruel cycle. I feel useless and wasteful.

3. All the dark shadows of my mind come out of the wood work. The past fades away and the interminable (yet oh-so delicate) future loooooms over my wandering thoughts.

People say 'grasp the day', 'live up the experience', 'travel, get out and do something.' Hah, I scornfully think, as I sniffle back a wretched tear. I'm just trying to get through one moment at a time. But before I know it, all the time is gone and my hands are empty of the golden sand. It's HARD. The first conversation I had of the day, where I used my mouth, was a sad 45 seconds where I learned that I was to be alone for longer.

When I was little, I remember singing along to the radio at my grandfather's shop. My brother immediately complained to my parents: 'make her stop, she sounds awful!' Ever since then, I've never been impressed with my voice, by my voice, or ever convinced that it was anything pleasant (disgustingly impressionable, yup). I've just ignored it and never gave it much exercise, even in the shower. Not my best quality and all. It stays bottled up here, though.

Alright, alright! This is just an expulsion of me voicing how lonely I am. Even I can tell that this is pitiful. But it has to come out. Frankly, this is one of the very few places where I get to use my voice.

Love from Sweden.

Gosh, I should start my own radio show: Sleepless in Sweden. It could be a movie! ;) Got it?

Schwarz-cycle Gets the Blues

When I ask for adventure, I'm really asking for a moose sighting or perhaps a new flavor of ice cream. You see, I'm something close to a coward (I also understate a lot of things) and really don't want much of that hardcore action. So when I stepped out of my building and saw this:



I knew my day had just gotten real special.

This is my first time being on the receiving end of a thievery heist and what I can't get over is how STUPID my assailants were. They tried, quite unsuccessfully, to steal my bike in TWO different ways.

Method one: CUT THE CABLE



Let's take a closer look at that.



There was only one slim wire holding that lock together, which leaves me to believe that perhaps method TWO came first. But my cable is no dinky cable. It's thicker than my thumb and encased in a hard plastic. There had to have been easier bikes to steal. What you can't really see from the pictures is the smörgåsbord (yay, Swedish word!) of bikes to be had next to mine that are notably nicer and with smaller locks. This leaves me the conclusion that black, although a pretty nice color, is a pretty nice nondescript color and pretty appealing to those who wish their bike purchase to remain nondescript. Anyway, on with the show.

Method Two: DETACH THE WHEEL



My poor bike looked like it was dangling off the edge of a precipice, holding on for dear life. Now, taking off my front wheel isn't as easy as it looks (although, in retrospect, it IS surprisingly easy). It turns out that my cheesy basket saved the day and bought my bike some time (or frustrated the hell out of my thief). Either my thief gave up - doubtful - or someone eventually came along and scared him off. The end result being that I'm out one bike lock and in for a trip to the bike shop tomorrow. Not much damage was done (I hope). I was able to lift the frame back onto the wheel and tighten the screws with my fingers but the alignment is off. Now the tire rubs against the fender, emitting a sound reminiscent of an elephant in full release.


Ah well, at the end of the day, I guess it could have been real worse. Besides, I enjoyed running around with my camera, getting all scratched up and oily from the bike, and taking my life real serious for a few moments. It made my heart go pitty-pat.

When it works at all...

It seems to work alright. That's my brain for you. I get into this wily habit of staring at a wall and forgetting everything else. Figuratively speaking, o'course. But it often leads me down dead ends and very expensive alleyways.

This time it's my plane ticket to Austria. Two months before my time of departure and I FINALLY have a ticket. Why not sooner?

1. Last time I called the British Airways office in Philly, I was left on the receiving end of a never ending stream of elevator music. I never got a person.

2. The BA website wouldn't let me book a ticket for more than 5 months. Seeing as how I need nearly a year, this was trouble.

3. Stumped by number 2 and locked by number 1, I just let the little wheels in my brain spin and churn.

But salvation is at hand! Or, rather, I just snatched it up. Today I was determined to get a ticket by hook or by crook. I had grand plans to take a train or bus to the Swedish airport and march right up to the BA desk and insist to speak with a human. Yet, on an impulse, I decided to try calling the BA desk in Stockholm for one last whirl at humanity. IT WORKED. Within one minute of dialing, I was talking to a 'ather nice Bri'ish woman. She checked prices for me, explained the fee with changing a departure time, and kindly insisted I book via the internet 'cause it was cheaper. I am now the proud owner of a airline ticket. Set it in your calenders - I'm leaving on the 27th of September.

Well. That was my big plan for the day, which turned out to be much less of a hassle than anticipated. What am I going to do with the rest of my day now that months of worry have been simplified by 15 minutes of activity? I swear, I could punch myself.

Pictures to the story.

I've given up some words but pictures always tell more.

Here's an aerial view of my bicycle, which I have started to call "the Schwarz-cycle" inside my head. It's the bike directly to the left of the one on its side. I'm taking the photo from the kitchen window of the corridor. We're on the sixth floor.



And here's the kitchen, where most of the food-magic happens.



The kitchen can get quite dirty but lately it's been just me around. I try and keep it clean.

This is a sample of what my evenings of solitude can look like.



This particular night I had tried to make cacciatore chicken but I couldn't find any chicken breast at the store. I wanted to substitute something and I figured sausage would work nicely but I couldn't read the packaging of the sausage so I settled for a sausage with what appeared to be an Italian name. The flavor turned out to be fairly strange but it tasted OK with the pan-fried green peppers and onions in a tomato sauce.

So that's a typical night for me. A book, the cellphone, food, and a beverage in the silence of a summer corridor.

On one of Carl's days off we decided to bake something Swedish and this is what we decided on.



They are Swedish cinnamon rolls or "Kanelbullar". Fairly easy to make but extremely addicting and regrettably fattening. I have decided that they will become an item at my used bookstore/cafe of dreams. If anyone has any other recipes to suggest, desserts or otherwise, please share! One of my dreams is to actually learn how to cook and not just always trust my nose and a Google recipe. And my cafe dream? Ever since Berlin I've had this idea of opening an international cafe with used books for sale, preferably in the US. It couples all my interests into one location. Thoughts, tips, ideas, encouragements, questions?

Remember when I wrote about my dinner at that Greek restaurant? Here's the view from our riverside seats.



As well as the flowers along the rail by our feet.



I think that's it for now. Two posts in one day is pretty productive. I wouldn't want anyone to get bored but I still wonder. Is anyone still reading?

Summer wind

After coming home from the farm, I feel indescribably free, as if I suddenly had my life back for a rare second chance. I tried to figure out why I might feel like this. The work is hard but not impossible. It is true that I feel leaden in my bones and muscles after the second day of doing the same task. My mind becomes very relaxed and I will often think myself in circles. I'm not sure but maybe I've already thought through solutions for all the worlds problems but I've come to forget. Anyway, after working in the field, under admittedly relaxed strictures, I've come to respect migrant workers and Hispanics who do it for a living. It's a HARD way to live. I can take a break whenever I want but what about when it's your job and your presence is illegal?

Is there really anything that can be said for those who find living difficult?

I took the bike to and from the farm this time - twenty kilometers both ways. Somehow it took me an hour and forty five minutes. My bike wasn't really made for long distances but she gets the job done. The one speed and solid frame features made me feel like the manual power in a submarine or representative of the Flintstones. I made it though, both ways. Talk about muscle development. ;)

There is ONE Oscar Wilde quote that haunts me. It goes something like "those who live more than one life, die more than one death." Fresh in my mind, I can't seem to wander far from it without the tethers of memory bringing it close. It's the fate of a reader, writer, and dreamer. Beginning, ending. I think of my fun here but I also think of the fun I had in America just before leaving and I know it's to end as well. The life of the wanderer is one of short stops and long drops.

But enough of my lallygagging! I can actually bring you interesting information about Sweden today! Did you know that purchased land is not taxed by the government but that cars are in Sweden? Did you know that there are open land laws? Meaning, you can go into any woods - to camp or party (as long as you aren't being a disturbance). Did you know that Sweden once was a great empire that encompassed parts of Germany and England as well as Scandinavia? Did you know that the government has free reign here to monitor all emails and text messages?

I was really surprised to learn all of this. One of Sweden's presidents was also assassinated. I never expected Sweden to be so influenced by world politics because of it's relatively quiet nature. But hypocrisy is everywhere. Sweden frowns upon war and maintain a minimalists army and yet they sell weapons and technology to other nations.

If you look at the history of Sweden after the dissolution of its empire, you might be disheartened by how this country has treated former allies.

All for all, it's a fascinating place and one can't but help to love it.

If wishes were fishes...

After that last post, I guess I kind of disappeared for a while. For a few days there I had gone back to the farm to help out. I know very few people in Sweden and who I do know, well, they're on a 100 acre farm north of Uppsala. And now, after a week of chilling in Uppsala, I'm on my way back for a few more days - quite possibly the last time I will be heading up there.

I don't know why I keep going back. Possibly because I've been partially guilt tripped: "You promised us a month but only gave us two weeks. Woe and sorrow unto us who will now be struggling to survive... Wait here while I go take a nap." More or less abbreviated for fictional enjoyment. Ah well, I am a sucker. If I ever got a tattoo, it would either be of a lollipop or a leach.

The really big occurrence of the past few days was a stupendous meal at a Greek restaurant. Dad promised a meaty meal in sympathy of my forced stint as a vegetarian and I decided: Who knows meat like the Greeks? Ah! Well, Dad, it was an absolutely fantastic meal. I also considered it reparations for missing the yearly Greek festival near my dad's work. Congrats on getting two birds with one stone! I took my Swede and we dined on the waterfront - aka right beside the river that runs through Uppsala. I got much enjoyment out of watching the ducks bob for food below the surface of the water. Something about seeing a little duck's butt waving in the air, little orange feet churning the water, makes me feel good about life.

Not much is new. I'm trying to make plans to visit Germany by using www.ryanair.com or by train. More importantly, I really want to travel more. I've become fatted by complacence and the confines of four walls (albeit four very nice walls). The truth is, I feel strangely guilty just sitting around here and wasting. Wasting opportunity, youth, blah blah. I do things here and I can't help but think: Jeeze, mom and dad would love this. OR Doug would really enjoy seeing this. Ah, sometimes I think it's all wasted on me. Truth being, I mainly wish you all were here to enjoy it all with me.

Bittersweet Symphony

That's the song, from the Verve, running through my head right now. In fact, here is the video on youtube. The point being that everything is changing from one day to the next but I'm still my self, if but a little different day to day.

I have a little black leather book. One of those modeled after that one author. You know, the guy who only wrote in specially made moleskin pocket notebooks. Mine is full of notes from the farm, poems from the web, and random thoughts. Since a sizable collection of words have grown inside the pages, I thought it best to write the next few journal entries as stories of the past. Much has been missed over the past few weeks. I will do my best in the recreation of past shenanigans!

Thoughts from the field:
The early days. Thoreau was never an organic farmer. For a while there, when I was a reclusive youth (yes, I indeed was), Thoreau was one of my idols. Run out into the bush, forget humanity, and become closer to nature. But I don't think Thoreau ever tried his literate hands at organic farming.

Organic farming, unlike other methods of farming, does not use pesticides, herbicides, or inorganic fertilizers. And as such there are weeds, weeds, weeds, and bugs, bugs, bugs abounding. For three days straight we workers were in the field weeding carrots.

Here is what a carrot looks like:



And here is where we have to find them:




The sad thing is that I can see one; even as I look at the photograph I want to pick it.

Difficult? Yes. Mind numbing? Only if you let it become so. See, the thing about weeding or any duty on the farm is the annoying tenacity it must maintain over the alert and attentive portion of the brain. Relax a little too far, get too deep into 'the groove', and you're accidentally yanking carrots or hoeing the heads off of cabbages instead of just the weeds.

I digress. The nature of the farm was a series of changing projects. We weeded carrots for three days. Worked on tomato plants for another three days. And started hoeing cabbages before returning to further weeding. All of the tasks, besides the tomato plants, demand the body to be in a bent position reminiscent of the pious monk. There was an ever present feeling between my shoulder blades as if someone had kicked me and left a sizable bruise. The weeding never stops. Cabbages that were planted the first night I was on the farm were already skirted with a soft green of weeds by the time I was leaving.

During the weeding I came to develop a healthy respect for the common weed. It grows quickly and often has a complex root structure or back-up plan in case it is pulled, along with prickly protection. Seriously, weeds don't want to go away. Too bad we can't eat weeds. That is my grand note.

I've added a bunch of photos! Feel free to look through. The green shack house is where I slept. It has two rooms and the other one became full of a Swede and a Frenchman later.

Back in Flogsta - A Grand Day Off

Hello and salutations! It's been ages or very nearly a week that just feels like an age. Where have I been and where can I start? My days have been very full and after my last post, very much and very little has changed.

I have learned that change is inevitable. Call me blind but, I never realized. The last childhood-hopefuls inside of me have finally come to bare.

This past week and a day have changed and calmed me. I've learned a lot about myself and I've gained a new perspective of the life I've lived before. It's refreshing, terrifying, and offensive. I have the strange feeling that someday I'm going to tell my mind and it's not going to go over well. But finally I can say that I DO have a mind and an opinion and I don't feel so bashful about that anymore.

Anyway, back to the details of life on a farm. After the first few days it occurred to me: I've never really worked before. And I always considered myself strong, capable, and earthy but until you have spent consecutive days being strong, capable, and earthy, I think the truth is otherwise.

Everyday has been something new. New pains, new kinds of dirt, new smells, new flavors, new sights. Just today I planted a couple dozen egg plants in a freshly made bed (a bed being a rich parfait of dirt, horse manure, dirt, chicken-shit, and more dirt). Afterwards we sorted squash plants and then planted around 200+ out in the fields. The "we" being a freshly arrived girl from Taiwan, a sympathetic and helpful Japanese girl, a calming and joyfully gangly German girl, a Canadian Swede in spelunking boots, and me.


- Tangent.
Let me tell you, there is nothing more disgusting than a 50 pound bag of rotting carrots. Rot has a smell and vegetable rot is a unique experience. Sweet, soft, and damp in the nose - add a dash of heavy carrot and a sprinkle of mold and there! I'm elbow deep in a bag of black and orange slime, sorting carrots in a musty room with dim lighting, dusty farm cobbles underneath my feet and the squish-squish noise fresh in my ears. That has been so far the most disgusting experience for me on the farm. Oh sure, digging through horse exhaust with my hands was no picnic - nor sticking my head in the bucket of chicken shit as I reached for another hand full. But carrots! God, spare me the day when I have to see another rod of orange!

I spent a solid two days in a green house solely with tomatoes. Before we touched them, the tomato plants were HUGE, majestic plants bushing out in great imitations of a South American paradise. Then we came in and tore, snapped, and snipped our way through till only one naked vine remained per plant. We tied them up. It's hard for me to explain. I'll just post a picture, which will invariably not do it justice - I saw lines of blue and tomato plants in my sleep for days after. Did you know that your hands turn the soap suds neon yellow if you've been working with tomato plants?

Other duties have been to plant hundreds of cabbage and broccoli plants in the field. Once, it rained buckets as we did this. I was outfitted with a very attractive orange rain jacket more suitable for a very big man than me and green pants to match. I've also planted egg plant, squash of all sorts, lettuce, two more kinds of cabbage, as well as the broccoli.

A few things get me around the place - a few reasons why that even though I like the work, I don't really want to stay more than these two weeks. The place is vegetarian and that normally wouldn't bother me at all. I actually don't miss the meat in my diet except for my seeming constant lack of energy. It's the variety that gets me. We don't have fresh fruit, we are discouraged from eating the cheese ($ reasons), and I'm very tired of eating Swedish hard bread. Bread has been a great part of every meal. A bakery is attached to the kitchen and sometimes the husband will bake bread for the farm. I've had so much bread that the yeast is starting to muck with my body. Bread, tea, butter. That's the bulk of my diet. We have one meal a day "prepared by the hostess." I use quotations because she actually hasn't been doing the cooking very often at all. We have one hot meal usually consisting of carrots, beans, and potatoes. Granted it is wonderful and that one meal is like heaven on earth but for the morning and night... So food is somewhat of an issue for me. One day this past week I had time to visit the store and I bought chocolate and candy but it disappeared in two days (much to my own piggy chagrin). I also munch apples when I can buy them. Man. Sometimes I just want peanut butter or a drumstick!

The other thing is that the actual house is a mess. You will notice, as I go on, that I have several bones to pick with The Head Lady. She doesn't clean enough or at all. The bathroom for the workers is atrocious and stocked with the house's litter box for the family's two cats. I've stared at the mini-mountain of turds and watched it grow for the past four days and wondering when it will disappear or, more likely, topple out of the litter box. The trashcan is overflowing with scented hygiene products, q-tips, floss, tissue, and unmentionables. Am I getting anal in my old age? Anyway, the room has class.

Besides the Lady cruising around during the day, waving her pendant and whispering to it, and mentioning that she's so busy - as she stops to whittle at your ears - she has a good heart (I hope). She was a natural doctor, believes firmly in astrology, and was a portrait sculptor. Nowadays I think she runs more towards the term hedge witch, pendler, and meddler. They aren't harsh words for me - sometimes I feel quite fond of her. Sometimes.

Other random oddments are as follows:
1. The Japanese girl told me, as we were tying up tomato plants on top of a ladder, that I look like Tom Cruise. Somehow I find it difficult to imagine Tom Cruise tying tomato plants.
2. I have never had so many nightmares before and in color.
3. It's my personal mission to read all the Hemingway novels in the town library (undeniably few). I'm working through For Whom the Bell Tolls right now.
4. I'm also memorizing poetry. The nights are long and when we sit on the tractor to plant, I have nothing better to do than recite poetry in my mind. I would love suggestions! Please, tell me your favorite poems!

I would like to thank everyone for sending me - in the past or present - words of encouragement and love. It came from all corners and from places I hadn't expected. Time is all I have on the farm and your kind words filled my thoughts constantly. With such support, I know that anything is attainable. :)

A load of pictures are to follow! Love.

Pendulums, Cabbage, and Tears

I got to the farm on Thursday night around 6:45pm. It's a place... It's a place that's seen better days. There are piles of stuff: old metal, broken bicycles, shanty houses of red slat wood. The first person I met was a tall skinny girl with dyed red hair and a smudged bandanna around her head. Her name is Ann-Katrin, German, and first impressions lead you to believe she's half asleep or stoned. The next person I meet, shortly after standing awkwardly with Carl and this girl, is Anderjs, the Swedish man married to the woman who I have been in contact with. He's a man that has a sweet smile, although he's really quiet and flighty albeit a nice guy.

Here is a rundown of the personalities at the farm:

1. Flighty
2. Stoned
3. Hyper
4. Mystic
5. Japanese

Where do I fit in? There is one Swede, three Americans, one German, and now one Japanese girl on the farm.

Right away I was put to work in the green houses and then off to the field. We started around 7:30pm and didn't end till 11pm. It was really great working in the greenhouse, unearthing cabbage and broccoli plants to be replanted in the field. it felt really good doing something systematic that had my hands in the earth. Next we rode a contraption behind a tractor, planting what we had unearthed. That was also really fun - although I hope my black thumbs won't do their evil magic here. We finished and I went to bed in my humble room.

I will honestly say that I had a breakdown. Everything that has been coalescing over the past months in my mind converged on yesterday - Friday. I walked around with water in my eyes and enough pressure in my head to make everything want to abandon ship my brain. I started questioning everything and that's never been a good pastime for me. Pretty soon you start questioning yourself into dark corners and loosing sense of actuality and hope. Ah well, I'm starting to worry if this is a trend for me - I really have to smash the ice with my head in order to feel any comfort at all. I was all set to slink away down the road - feeling inhuman, alone, ignored, sad, lost... blah blah blah... when I decided that if I was to stay at this place, I gotta talk with the lady in charge and let her know how I feel.

I did talk with her and it did help. The thing about American turned Swedish Hippies is that they're really relaxed - about your problems and theirs. Into astrology, sitting on a couch wrapped in a blanket and surrounded by her cats, she says that something about my Pluto and Saturn is out of alignment. *sigh* OK, so even if my planets are colliding, she did agree that I can stay for at least two weeks to help out during this extremely busy season with the option of re-extending my stay to the original 4 weeks if I change my mind.

ALRIGHT - Now you are all maybe thinking: Crazy Katie, can't follow through on her ideas. Well. YEAH. Me = transitional stage.

Now for more details. The place is vegetarian and we get one large meal a day in the afternoon, cooked by the lady of the house. Otherwise we scavenge what we can find, which for me equals Swedish hard bread with butter and cheese with water. My creativity cooking skills will need to improve out of necessity. The first night I got there, everyone disappeared right away after work and ran to their rooms to sleep. My stomach was growling - hadn't eaten in 9 hours - with not a clue where anything was and too afraid and tired to ask. My bane, my fears they are. So I trundled away to my bed but was unable to sleep. Woke up for good at 7:30am and was working again for the day. And that was the day I broke down inside. Little food, little sleep, little hope = BAD DAY. I'm much better now. Let me say that again: MUCH BETTER NOW.

I'm the muscle of the farm. Already, my arms have been discovered and my nickname is Tidus, which laughingly reminds me of a certain Final Fantasy video game. I haul around sacks of potatoes, carrots, and jars of Lactic Acid (really, I want to know too). And, now that I'm feeling better, I think it makes me walk taller. After a bout of caustic sadness is drawn out, the only way to stand is tall, especially when you are needed.

The big deadline for the farm is June 16 - everything has to be in the ground by then in order for the farm to get governmental money. As far as I can see, we got a lot of work ahead of us. They have many different kinds of crops. One of the duties is watering the green houses and I can see cucumbers, tomatoes, broccoli, lettuce, carrots, squash, cabbage, and many other sorts of plants that I just can't recognize yet.

The farm has many different out buildings. One is a very lovely barn with stables that I can tell were once much used and loved but are now falling into disuse. There is only one old horse on the farm that stays out in a paddock all day happily munching grass. Once things slow down, maybe Karin (lady of The House) would let me clean it up and take care of all the tack in there. The disorder of this place hurts me a bit - the orderly German parts. Sure, being relaxed and carefree is great but how about a little more order to it. Maybe I'm missing something.

Today, since not much is happening, I needed a sanity break as well as a long shower. I went into town, was bemusedly dropped off by Karin (who was in a rush) somewhere I didn't recognize, and spent 45 minutes walking with a map and Swedish directions to my bike. After buying another plug adapter for my computer (it services 150 countries! woohoo!), food, and that gloriously long shower, I'm feeling much better.

Well, I gotta pack things back up and head for the bus back to the farm. Pictures will come later - I have to charge my camera battery but the fear of starting a fire with this old wiring is very real for me... Soon, soon I shall brave it!

lots of love.

Homes and Farms

I'm fresh back from seeing what an actual Swedish home looks like. The house was in a beautiful area, thick in a nature that I can't really describe as being in Ohio or Pennsylvania. It's wide, open, green, and ever so gently rolling - like a blanket of green unfurling. After looking at a map, no wonder it doesn't resemble anything that I've ever seen or felt in America. We are at 60 degrees north latitude, which is somewhere high up in Canada. Philadelphia is at 44 or 42 degrees. I cannot be exactly sure.

Ah well. It was good fun, relaxing. I saw my favorite horse breed: Icelandic Pony. It's not really a pony at all, more of a delicate horse. The stallion in the field looked like a rastafarian wannabe. He was hilarious and beautiful, a punk rock teenager. It will always be my favorite and it will always be unattainable - being incredibly expensive in Europe and rare as well in the states.

I saw a lake that brought me closer to a feeling of wild nature than anything I've ever encountered before. I felt just a little rush of terror. Maybe it was because I felt just a little bit alone and vulnerable. These things happen.

My friends online are all talking deep thoughts - thoughts of loneliness and internal clocks. It all makes me think and reevaluate my own actions and life. These things are good too. Step back, look, and make note of the road you're walking on. A certain amount of carefree-ness is good but don't forget to live a little. For so long, I was worried about everything, experiencing as much as possible, avoiding sickness or pain that I thrust my self into a grand state of 'not caring.' But now, I'm finding out that I want to care after all.

My mind is a little drowsy so I am going to power nap before heading off to the farm - a short few hours away.

Next time you hear from me, I'll be a real farm girl!

Gypsy Jazz

Second post of the day!

Remember that Chinese party I went to a while back with the self proclaimed gypsy jazz musicians? Well, I finally discovered the cooler capabilities of my camera software that lets me instantaneous upload Youtube videos.

Sorry for the quality. Hope you enjoy anyway!!

Big Blue Yonder

Pretty soon I will be off to the farm and this rash of blog entries will be at an end. I don't know what my access to internet will be like and so this might be one of the last few complete entries for awhile.

On Monday I went to Stockholm via train. It's only about 40 minutes away, which for me goes quickly. I love riding in a train as much as I love riding in a car. I've actually come to despise the dormant, stuffy quality of an airplane - although I still enjoy the 'teleportative' quality of flying. But in a train or car you can see everything rushing by. I love the rhythm and the constant motion, the feeling of taking giant steps without actually moving the legs. Riding a train is a rare experience for Americans, I feel. Subways and city transportation don't count - only when you can see an encompassing countryside whizzing by, interrupted by towns and bicyclists... It's an invigorating experience.

Carl was pretty familiar with the Stockholm area and we were able to find the Austrian Embassy with nary a hitch. I handed in all my papers only to find out - a half hour before they closed - that my passport photo didn't meet their specifications. Now, this wouldn't be such a big deal except for the rigmarole I went through in getting those pictures taken at Ohio's one and only Meijer - a 45 minute wait and the struggle of the employee to use the camera. The lady at the embassy told me the color was off, I wasn't facing the camera straightforward, and you could see teeth (a very frightening thing in Austria - only terrorists have teeth). The need for speed rushing us on, we ran from the embassy to a nearby mall, snapped a very appropriate and sweaty picture of me, and ran back - all under 15 minutes (wtf Meijer). Now my paperwork for Austria is in and I can on that front, to a degree, relax.

Stockholm is a very beautiful city. It reminds me of Baltimore, Maryland, in a way. Tall ships in the harbor, the smell of water, and lots of people but that's where the similarities stop. The architecture in Stockholm is unique, fittingly European. The color is off: Swedes love red, yellow, and brown for building. Also there are lots of islands in and around Stockholm. It's a great city - I'll post pictures. For all the greatness, however, the city doesn't call to me like Berlin or Philly. The people are too quiet, too tame, and the streets are too clean (what a complaint, eh?). Well, I just can't SEE myself there for more than a fun weekend.

Carl and I went to the National Maritime Museum to check out some awesome models and paintings. Come to think of it, Stockholm is a city made more for my parents who harbor a great love of the water and ships and all things maritime. I think they would have loved it there, appreciating the maritime culture much more than I could have.

Not really wishing to stay in the city too long, we cruised around the old portion of town, took pictures, and lounged at a cafe before hopping the train home.

Then last night was relaxing and somewhat sad. The semester here has just ended and the great international student population is making its exodus back to the homelands. Carl's friends threw a farewell party on the roof of one of the student buildings and we spent some time there. I then watched Nanny McPhee back in the room. (Umm... a whirlwind pretty thing with superficial substance).

Today it actually rained for a bit - around 10 minutes of precipitation. Go figure, a travel day and it has to rain! It's so refreshing - what I wouldn't give for some thunder.

That's it for now! I'll try and update within the next few days but I'm going to Carl's house in a few hours, which could mean limited internet.

Island Fun

I am back from my northern island adventures and feeling just a little guilty at my luck after checking the weather for Pennsylvania. From what I see, the humidity is back with a temperature to make it throttling. After reading that, you really don't want to know what the weather is like here. You really don't.

The Swedish island adventure was as close as I will ever get to living fantasy, I think. Seriously, how often does a body get to chill on a Swedish island alone with nothing to do all day but read, swim, play games, and eat?

We were quite a motley crew: 2 Swedes, 2 Austrians, 1 Italian, 1 Spaniard, and 2 Americans. The language of choice was English - in all it's beautiful array of interpretation (I find accented voices are curiously interesting).

I have some very strong impressions from this trip.

Let's get the negative ones out of the way first:
1. Parts of Sweden smell like rotting, salty, putrescent sea life even when you can't see the sea.

2. Swedes prefer musical audibility to air circulation when driving in cars with broken air conditioners. This experience turned out to be the sauna of the trip.

3. Mosquitoes suck. Literally.

Everything else was gorgeous and perfect. Our group of eight was split. I went by train and by car, journeying for about 4 hours - including walking time - while the others went solely by train. Jon (in Swedish it sounds like "Yon") spent most of his childhood summers on the island and was a great host, even those times when he paraded around the island just wearing his sailor hat and some very tight undershorts. Yeah. We did things like Beebee gun competitions, playing a great game called Kubbb (which I shall try try to bring to America), burning nachos, catching and eating fish, swimming, tanning, reading, eating tons of hot dogs...

We had two unfortunate casualties for the weekend. One of the Austrians was literally devoured by Mosquitoes. She had a violent reaction and half her face swelled to twice its size. Her Italian boyfriend was good spirited and said she looked a little Asian.

The second causality was the other American. During our stay, the two of the oven's burners broke and couldn't be turned off. We had to resort to pulling the oven out, unplugging it, and pushing it back in whenever we wanted to cook. Nick, the American, received the oven onto his foot, crushing his big toe. OUCH. Both of them survived, thankfully but I'm anxious to see what other mishap was in store - bad things come in threes.

Me? I had a good time. I finished reading FAREWELL TO ARMS. Great book. Hemingway is like a trip: it's more about the journey than the destination. I have never felt "good" about any of Hemingway's endings. They cut off abruptly and all of a sudden you are wondering where the last five pages of the book went because this can't be 'it'. Ah. Style, I like it. It's a great part of who he is as a writer. He doesn't tell you everything.

Today I am hiding out and taking some 'me' time. It's funny but I really have fun with my own space, my own quiet, my own noise... Besides, I got too much sun and now I feel like a sick cherry.

I put up pictures. On the right hand of this blog, my pictures are scrolling and I believe if you click on it you can get to the newest ones first.

Tentative Schedule:

Monday - Stockholm
Tuesday - Stockholm
Wednesday - Flogsta
Thursday - Flogsta
Friday - Farm FOR THE DURATION

Who needs a reason?

The high plans I had for today kind of fell in a rut but these things happen. I had hoped to take the train to Stockholm and get my application for a residency permit filed at the Austrian Embassy but that didn't pan out. I slept in and after phoning them found out that not all the kinks of getting a residency permit abroad had been worked out - especially when the embassy closes at 12:30pm and I'd only woken up at 11am. I think everything will be fine but it will now have to wait till next Monday because of FUN TIMES ahead.

Tomorrow, a bunch of the corridor people will be going with a guy to his cottage on an island for shenanigans. That sounds too picture-esque for belief. Carl and I are going as well. It sounds pretty cool. We'll be going by train, car, and finally private boat. We'll be returning on Sunday. Now you know as much about the trip as I do - except there will be swimming, lounging, and possible sauna building!

After the downfall of Stockholm plans, Carl and I spent a healthy amount of time lounging about before heading out to Uppsala for fresh air, sushi, ice cream, and a LIBRARY CARD! Yes, I am now certified to check books out of a Swedish library. Thank goodness they have a substantial English section. I came away with FAREWELL TO ARMS by Hemmingway and WALTZING THE CAT by Pam Houston (a novel a woman twice my age and bound by husband and children would be reading - definately, no offense meant!) Both portend to be great reads and a good manner of diversion on the farm when I'm not bent over double in the fields weeding.

Beautiful people are lame.

I found resolution to my Mega ICA adventure of yesterday. Carl came with me and when yesterday everyone I saw had the wand of frustration, today only about 1 in 4 people had it. Apparently Male Model didn't mention that I could just have gotten in another line. THANKS.

The plus side is that all my items were still there behind the potted plant minus only one - a little black book for note taking.

Well, the computer is about to be hijacked from me! Here are some photos for your examination!

(All taken from ICA)

ICA, A Swedish Wonderland

There's a little grocery store not 100 feet from the student complex where I'm staying at and it's called 'Ica', a miniature exposition of Swedish cuisine. All the students shop there and it always has a crowd, especially around 10:30pm - a half hour before closing. It's pretty regular as far as grocery stores go. If you're from Ohio, I would call it 'Meijer lite' or those of you from Pennsylvania, 'Mini Redners'. The major differences between US mini-marts and this one are the cheese and meat sections. You see, here the cheese section is about twice the size of the meat section and this extract of cow is sold in GIANT wedges, wheels, chunks, slices - I'm not sure the Swedes know what petite means in terms of cheese.

Being an unprejudiced omnivore, I was slightly disappointed in the meat section. When I went to Eastern Europe meat was on the menu at every meal. Here it seems meat has taken a back seat. Chicken and beef are expensive (unless it's ground beef, for some reason there's tons of that) and pork comes in front with the lowest $ sign.

Good news is that my bike is fixed! With the new wheels, I wanted to check out a shopping complex a fair distance down the road. When I got there, I walked into the first building, not really caring what it was. To my chagrin I had stepped into a Swedish Wal-Mart, which just turned out to be an ICA on steroids. I cruise around, absorbing the strange words, labels, packaging. Not expecting to buy much, I only grab a few apples and some Haribo gummies before checking out, satisfied that this ICA differed very little from an American shopping complex. In line I noticed that something was not right. Everyone had a hand-held Star Trek device that they handed to the cashier upon check out. Of course, my cashier was the 19 year old, Swedish male model of the year. He looked at me pityingly and said something in Swedish to which I answered 'Engelska?' with my sweetest and most innocent of smiles. In perfect English he replied that I needed to register and get one of the Star Trek wands out front. Flustered for more reasons than one, I didn't ask him HOW. I had to ditch my purchases behind a potted plant for sale and head back out front of the store.

Once there, I was completely and utterly trounced. There was a wall of the thingamabobs (I can't believe that word passed spell check), a movie in Swedish showing how they worked, and a sign that said you needed an ICA card to start the magic. But they didn't tell you HOW to get the card, at least not in English. In the end, I decided it wasn't worth the hassle of revealing my American ignorance to store staff so I just left, my purchases waiting alone behind that potted plant for a later date when I have my Swedish translator with me.

ICA 1, Katie 0.

Yesterday was a very relaxing Sunday. I pulled my gaming Swede outside and we walked the hour to town together and we established a language class while walking. I can now say 'How are you' and 'It's cool' in slang/dudish as well as formal Swedish. YES.

I swear this is a God blessed country because it hasn't stormed or rained any fair amount since I've been here. The humidity is nearly nill and the heat is moderate. Everyday is a perfect outside day. Imagine, perfect weather for baseball, horseback riding, gardening, walking, running - you name it.

Uppsala was gorgeous. Sadly, my camera batteries died after having lasted an admirable 6 days on a half charge. Here are some photos for your viewing pleasure:






A crutch for a tree. Pretty neat, huh!

Adventures and Mishaps

Friday was a convergence of happenings. Right now I'm not sure where to begin!

After much hassle and no small amount of Swedish kronor, I became the proud owner of a black second hand bicycle. Even though the front wheel wibbled and made a funny noise, I was really grateful to finally have my own set of wheels replete with a basket on the handlebars.

After a run (I run about 7 kilometers every other day now)Carl and I got the bike, went shopping, and ate dinner. Ah, I forgot to mention that Carl finished his Chinese classes and was invited to a party hosted by some of his classmates. I tagged along but under slight duress. I mean, I don't speak either of the languages affiliated with that party: Swedish or Chinese. In fact, I could be seen as the enemy for speaking Japanese. But oh well. Carl didn't know where the party was so we followed a friend of his by bike.

The party was pretty cool and I imagine it would have been a lot more amazing if I could speak fluent Swedish or Chinese. The people were great. Quite a few of the students made the effort to speak in English when I was around. As soon as two chinese girls came, things got a little easier for me because they could only speak English as well (it was only when they started speaking Chinese that I was in a rut). They had chinese decorations up and (this is how I could tell they were my kind of people) a bamboo chair with a picture of Mao taped to it with the words: Fullast Tag Plast. That means "Drunkest person sits here".

Some great points in the evening:
1. A Swedish girl told me that every American girl that she had ever met was called "Katie." What's worse, there was even a Katie K! Oh, the tragedy.

2. A full length conversation was had on the appearence of Mao and how he resembled a Star Trek figure. More specifically, a Vulcan because he seemed so wise and peaceful in the picture.

3. Two very skinny Swedish boys were inspired to play their accordian and violin in a style of music they called "Gypsy Jazz". It was amazing. I have video.

4. Two said Swedish boys promised to partake in a music exchange because when I looked at their music files on their computer I didn't recognize a single band.

It was a really nice evening and I met great people. Swedish college students are fairly similar to American college students except that they aren't as loud or high energy.

I was getting tired, having been awake since 7am, around midnight Carl and I left. The sky was still alight with the last traces of the sun (a trait of Sweden that I for once became very grateful for). My stomach fell, however, as soon as we left the door and Carl said "I have no idea how to get back." Now, I could make some cracks about men - how come you never ask for directions? How come you always trust to luck and gut feelings? GAH. Well, Carl and I head out and immediately get a bit lost. To add insult to injury, the rear tire on my new bike makes a loud popping noise and suddenly I'm struggling to not fall over and lose control. We dragged my bike to the sidewalk to find that the wheel had slipped out of position and was wedged against the rim. In other words: NOT a quick fix. The bike was down a wheel and we were lost. *sigh*

At this point, Carl called a friend to help Mapquest us a way back home. Unfortunatly, he was unsuccessful so we tried to retrace our steps. After a moment of walking, when Carl expressed doubts that we were even going the right way back, we asked two guys standing on a porch holding beers and cigarettes if they knew the way. It's a very good idea to have a tall and fearless Swedish guide in these cases! We got pointed in the right direction and managed to walk the hour walk home.

Now I have learned several things from this encounter.
1. Make sure your Swedish guide has his glasses with him. Even though they might not be cool, they are necessary when in unfamiliar territory.

2. Don't buy a bike on a Friday from a shop that will not open again until Monday.

3. Don't buy a bike from supicious and lecherous old men.

4. Solid frame bikes are heavy and lugging them any amount of distance is no picnic. Because my rear tire would not move at all, we had to hold up the back and push the front for about 5 or 6 kilometers. We locked the bike in town and will retrieve it on Monday.

5. Maps are good things.

So I'm pretty much a free bird today. Carl is working and I have the run of Sweden to myself. The unfortunate part is that I'm dead tired so I'll spend the day writing, relaxing, and researching things to do in Stockholm, Uppsala, and Sweden. If anybody has any ideas... heard anything on the grapevine that might be fun... here's the chance!!

No Glory!

There is no glory or justice in waking up early in this country! I am completely confounded. This morning I got up at 6:30am to eat breakfast with Carl before he headed off for his last exam.

In America, early mornings are beautiful. The last cool of darkness in the air, moisture on the grass, and the morning birds are satisfying rewards for the hardworking morning person (hard work, in this case, being the opening of the eyes and the crawling out of the bed). Here in Sweden I pulled back the big black shudder blind to find the sun standing tall in the sky, the room getting hotter by the moment, and the morning birds finishing their song about five minutes later. Gosh darn it all! Where is the satisfaction in that? The only difference in waking up at 11am and 6:30am is that the kitchen appears to be cleaner at 6:30 and we were the first one's to read the paper today. Those, in my book, are not equitable rewards for waking early, in a country that does not favor the morning bird. Getting up at 4am to see the sunrise is too much work. I am going to take a nap.

To continue with yesterday, I was veritably kicked out of the room and at 4pm I embarked on the hour trek to town (still working on that bike). Last time I was in Uppsala it was in the thick of winter and the sun, always in winter, avoids Sweden like Michael Jackson does the law. Anyway, there is a giant castle right smack-dab in the center of town positioned quite appropriately on the highest hill. It was my goal to reach that castle again and see it in daylight. So I did. The walk was fine but I over estimated the comfort of my flip-flops. Finding the castle wasn't too bad. I had a vague feeling; judging from the canal and the big church, I was able to find it after some walking. When I got there, I was more tired than I thought. I snapped a few pictures and lay down in the grass under some trees by the outlying wall.

Now, I know many people want to know more substantial information about things like castles and cities. I plan to make that a priority and publish it in its very own post. That, along with a post about food replete with photos. The problem is that I forget and devour the goodness before remembering to take a photo. Until next time...







I wonder how those bricks got like that. Not only am I thrilled with the macro setting on my camera but I also wonder how bricks can become concave while the grout stays the same... Any ideas?

Small note and big pictures.

It's fun being slow but it's not something to which I am acustomed. Lately, while Carl studies, it's been just me, my mp3 player, and a gregarious collection of Jane Austen novels.

The reading is good. I started at the beginning, which is Sense and Sensibility - a great experience because the movie production is a favorite of mine. My best loved spot to chill is on the roof of this building. The sun seems to love Sweden and from up there you can get a full dosage of Vitamen D (or is itE?) in about 30min.

Too early in the day for much to have happened. Here are some pictures:





I will report more later!