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!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
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!
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, July 26, 2008
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?
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?
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Monday, July 14, 2008
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?
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.
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.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
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.
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.
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