Bloggers, Unite!

OMG, y'all, read this, I'm DYING:

witzpickz.blogspot.com

I went to Bates with this kid, and I'm currently obsessed with his blog, and consistently laugh OUT LOUD at the computer.

Gah!

Hiiiiiii.........

I can't even apologize anymore. I guess maybe I feel like nothing blog-worthy is going on with me right now? How much does that sound like something out of Cosmopolitan?

So, let's see. Tuesday I turned down the opportunity to bastu, which was a mistake, but a remediable one...or would be if I used real English words. But bastu is the ever-present sauna, and I don't know why I said no, but it might have had something to do with how awkward I felt asking my older male boss, "What am I supposed to wear?" and then realizing just how American that made me sound, and felt compelled to add, "....or....not...wear?", which didn't make me sound Swedish, or even Continental, but really just like I considered not wearing clothing around my male coworkers something that I Assumed Happened Here.

But I DID take them up on a beer after work, which was just lovely, and was actually two beers. It had been incredibly beautiful until they hopped in the sauna, at which point it started raining. So instead of going to the place next to the bridge where Djurgården meets Östermalm, we took the ferry from Djurgården to Gamla Stan to go to their "usual haunt", which I guess is the third of fourth "usual haunt" they've had in the past few years, due to New Hipper Management issues. Having eaten barely anything that day, I felt it better, for all our sakes, to go home and fix that.

ON THE WAY (and let me remind you, although they were Lite, I have had two beers), a very handsome boy (ugh, man? When DOES a boy become a man?) asked me to take his picture in front of the Palace (castle? I'm so full of self-doubt today). Obviously I had been trying to walk far enough behind him that I didn't seem creepy, but, I mean, if he approaches me....and I took it, made some really funny joke by asking him, "Oh, did you want your shoes in the picture, hah, hah!", he took the specific shoe mention too seriously, but then he thanked me and started talking about the weather, I gave him back the camera and like RAN AWAY. Why? Let's just all pretend he was probably a rapist-murderer, not an American on Vacation Alone, wishing some other American, who has a month's worth of experiences in Stockholm, would show him her favorite place to eat!

So...that was great.

The rest of the week has been work, work, work. In a good way. I'm still Lead Detective on the Case of the Missing Buttons, but I only have like 3 or 4 left to figure out! And then, and then, and then. Many other parts ahead. I feel...almost disingenous, or fake when I keep saying, "I think it's going really well", as if that's all I can say about it, but I'm just so thankful that it's working like I hoped that I want to repeat it.

I also did get to see the Pre- Pre- Opening of the Titanic Exhibit just down the kaj from the Vasamuseet, but....seriously, it's an audio tour. There are NO SIGNS, PLACARDS, OR ANY OTHER FORM OF ID. Ok, there are little ID tags, but the whole point is that the audio tour guides you through a big exhibit of items....and guess what language our guide gave the 40 Swedes a tour in? He said something in Swedish about using the audio guides, but, you know, I didn't know what he was saying. I figured out that the exhibit, which is a travelling one, is heavily focused on the Swedish passengers (surprise!) of the Titanic...whom, after Americans and Brits, were the most numerous of all Citizenships. Who knew? Not me, until I went though the exhibit (and my friend told me that's what the guy had said). And it was good. But Titanic, still? I guess this is a new take, but....I wouldn't know, since it was all I could do to stare at the many different types of collars the Edwardian Men had on in the huge portraits on the wall, which was not such misery. Speaking of clothing, they also had a reproduction of a Typical First Class Passenger Cabin, complete with...everything I guess. Including clothing that, unless I am mistaken, someone had made, new, for the exhibit. Now, I know you would want the clothing to look new, since it's supposed to be Present Day, but...eh...I don't know. Details, details.

Otherwise, I've been helping the guys on Vega to prepare the boat for sailing, which starts Monday! They're just wonderful, hilarious, talented, diesel-fuel manly, darling, handsomer than Adonis, really......aaaand reading this. They asked me to write about how I really feel about them, and I DO adore them, so why not be gratuitous? But by "helping" I obviously mean putting together IKEA furniture, painting the hard-to-reach areas in the head with linseed oil paint and providing them with rib-tickling stories, as well as music from the iPhone, stealing cookies to bring for when they send me to "put the kettle on" (hey...wait a minute), and teaching them important English words that not only they, but many other Swedes have never heard before, like "gross". WHAT. We all know that I MIGHT overuse that word, which is totally gross, but they've heard so many other ridiculous words, how has that not come over here? We did have a hilarious conversation yesterday about "painting our oars" which they mistook for "painting our horse", and I mistook their mistaking as "painting our whores"...buuuuut it doesn't translate well to blogger. You had to be there, I guess...and have ever heard English with a Swedish accent... But I just wanted to put that down in the ol' memory books. They're taking the boat back to their town for the month of June, which I consider rather rude, and I will miss them!

But only until I GO TO MARSEILLE! And then to Amsterdam! But about Marseille!!! I'm so excited to have finally capitalized on going to other countries While I'm Here, which is what EVERYONE told me to do, as though I hadn't realized that all these countries share borders. Although that's hardly fair, they were helping; and the irony is that Sweden is not actually that close to that many countries, or at least not as close as, say, Switzerland is to so many places that aren't Estonia. And Ryan Air has very few flights out of Stockholm...and they don't fly out of Arlanda, the main airport, but instead one where I will have to walk 30 minutes to get to the bus that will drive 1.5 hours or something to get to the airport. F you, RyanAir. My ticket wasn't even that cheap. But I will spare you the lamenting already exercised by so many New York Times travel writers, and say, YAY, MARSEILLE! If anyone would like to meet me there, I would probably not say no. And, barring prohibitively expensive plane tickets and full-time jobs, who wouldn't want to spend four days with me in the South of France? I can't believe I'm actually going, because America is just do different. I really wouldn't try to rally the troops to go to, say, the Pennsylvania coast, which is probably the same distance away (probably not, it's probably not far enough, but the coast further down gets kinda nice, huh? I don't know, I've never been, people in America don't fly like that, yo).

Anyway, I'm now obsessed with Halloumi, and had a halloumi and serrano salad, which was, unfortunately, as delicious as it sounds, but also as salty.

OH also, I saw Real Swedes playing Kubb today for the first time...and I've been here a month. Everyone assured me a hundred times over that lots of people play it...but I guess I've just never walked through the most central of Stockholm parks on a perfect Friday evening, which for them is like American mid-afternoon, since even at 1800 they still have FOUR MORE HOURS OF LIGHT AND KUBB. I really wanted to take a picture but I want to keep the creepshow factor to a serious minimum, and although one of my favorite parts of the iPhone is that no one knows what you're doing, you could be doing SO MANY THINGS, if you've been staring at a group of people, smiling, while walking by, then stop, turn around, and pretend to...what, check your text messages while holding the phone perfectly vertically? I guess I just need more practice.

Oh, and today was the first day the boat was open to the public, which doesn't bother me so much in the daytime, even though there are now a million people eating lunch with Johan and me on the deck. After work, though, I can't lie and say I'm happy to have a ton of foreigners (hah) walking around my house. I've been pretty much the only one here for just long enough that it's a little frustrating. Or maybe it's just the teenagers (than whom I am so much older (hey, crazy proper English, where have you been, good to see you!)) who give me the once over as I'm reading some dumb book in English in some really random spot, since all my Spots were taken today until 1830 or so. Still feeling lucky to live here, just feeling a little more 80 years old about it, apparently--damn kids!

My not-yet-friend that I was supposed to hang out with tomorrow has come down with something or other, so I'm pretty much set on going to Vaxholm, which is a boatride much like the one I took around the archipelago (skärgård)...except it keeps going a little further, and will drop me off on Vaxholm, which is a historically important island in the archipelago for many reasons I don't remember but am sure I will learn tomorrow on my way out there, and will certainly recount for you.

Bon voyage, et bon nuit tout le monde!

Förlåt!!!

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

tisdag 26 maj 2009

Hej hej!

Again, sorry, which is what the title for today means.

I might give you just a quick run down of what's been happening, but I'm sure it will evolve as I go along, we all know I can't be persuaded to use one sentence where I feel 16 will do...or the equivalent of 16 sentences all rolled into one, usually.

As I've been blah blahing about for like a week now, I wanted to go away somewhere, but it just didn't make sense. I'd rather save my money for later, or for trips I know I will take! And oh, right, that apartment in New York....

But I have this crazy sense of guilt about it, and also this funny "Well, it's ok, I live here now, do people who live in the Alps go hiking every day? Probably not.", which is totally not applicable. Or maybe I have this other funny feeling of, "Hey, I'll probably live in Europe again, so I'll try to see things and stuff but maybe I'll just appreciate Stockholm for now", which is far easier, closer, and cheaper than, say, Paris (Ok, cliché, but there are certain things I'd like to see). And speaking of Paris, I'm starting a campaign for un stage at the Musée de la Mode, oh, say, hypothetically, sometime in the next two years? Ok, great, meet you at les Tuilleries.

To assuage that guilt, I did the next best thing to travelling to France to see their costume collections and browse flea markets--went to Stockholm Stadsmission, which is like Goodwill, which is awesome. I believe it's run by the Red Cross here, and there are a few outposts throughout the city. I've been told over and over by a few people to go to Södermalm, and since it's a very hip part of the city, I assumed there would be good Stadsmissioner, but apparently I was wrong. But I'll get to that.

Let's back up to when I was thinking about where I was going, and what to wear. Obviously my overalls that have been so sadly unpacked these three weeks, rolled up at the bottom of my beautiful backpack, and a white oxford, my blue blazer (missing one button, rolled up to the elbows), and the new huge tannish handknit scarf I bought on Gamla Stan. It was quite a concession to buy a handknit scarf, kind of like buying a sheath dress (oh, you really did those four lines of stitching ON YOUR OWN MACHINE?? I'll take 6.) but I liked how simply she had finished the edges, plus it was just over 10 dollars, so come on. Plus it has a little tag that says her name and "Stockholm, Sweden", so that was the dealmaker.

So, thusly dressed, I made my way down Strandvägen for the 100 millionth time since I've been here, but took a right, up into part of Östermalm, instead of a left toward Gamla Stan and, ultimately, Söder (south), which is what they call Södermalm, which I wanted to liken to calling South Boston Southie, but I don't think it translates, as it were. A little too literal, on my part. Anyways, to the right! I wanted to buy some books, since I'm seriously BURNING through them. I went to what is purported to be a rather upscale bookstore, which I read almost seems "out of place", all those books in such a fancy place....which...I suppose is a Crazy Thought if you've only shopped at, say, Stockholm Stadsmission. I expected marble staircases and crystal chandeliers...and it was just a bookstore. A very nice one, well organized, well put together, with almost a bigger selection in English than in Swedish, but nothing so bizzare as...well would a bookstore with a marble staircase be that crazy? I digress.

I found the fiction section after pretending to be very interested in various Swedish-only sections to mask the fact that I was lost, and seriously, y'all, I wish all of our bookstores looked like this! Not that I buy new books, sorry, starving authors. But this looked like a list of the past 15 writers on the New Yorker Fiction Podcast, guests and authors. I bought books that I would save once I was finished, ones that I've been wanting to read: The Brief, Wonderful Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz; When You are Engulfed in Flames, by David Sedaris; and Sweet Land Stories by E.L. Doctorow. I considered Roddy Doyle and T.C. Boyle, but maybe they were too "expensive", I don't remember. I'm sure I can get them in, you know, America. Three books bought (and, let me tell you, two finished already, although WYAEIF took me only an hour or two, quick reading, and although not as consistently as I'd hoped, ROFL funny, if you're pickin' up the abbreves I'm puttin' down. See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LOL. So good, especially the analysis portion).

Next, to Söder! I walked through the profusion (and slight confusion) of lanes for walkers, bikers, and motorists of all kinds that is Slussen (which means "the lock", as in the waterway between the Baltic Sea and Lake Mälaren). There's a very tall contraption they call a funicular, but I call an elevator, and I was tempted, but didn't go. I guess it's a great view of the city, but I think I got a similar view from the vegetarian restaurant, plus there were food and friends.

Instead I went to the right and followed Hornsgatan, which is full of galleries. I wanted some kaffe pretty badly, and found a great place (obviously), which had kanelbulle as well. I sat outside, watched the hipsters pass, and started my Junot Diaz book--SO GOOD. It was...interesting to be reading a book about the Dominican Republic, so ripe with dominican spanish and slang, but to look up and see two tall, long-haired blondes with tiny jeans and pointy shoes, offputting to be trying to understand the Spanish when I've been trying so hard for the past month to eke words like the days of the week out of other people's conversations. But it was perfect.

Plus, about two doors down was what I intended to be a SEK Sinkhole...but turned out to be pretty...ok. I'm not sure what I was looking for, but I imagine this was like trying to go to a Salvy's in Brooklyn...highly picked over, only the less-ironic, less-neon 90's stuff left. And although I knew this would happen all along, I found myself in the book section to make myself feel better.

I bought:

--5 records of (potentially) various musical styles that I picked only for the Seventies Swedish covers

--Books 1, 3, and 4 of Barnens Lexicon, a sort of ABC book for young Swedish children, so maybe I could learn a thing or two for once. I won't know any animals, Peoples of the World, vegetables, colors, etc, that begin with the letters G-J, covered in Book 2, but I'll know all about the Basque culture and the name of each note of a Xylophone. Kind of like how I know many names of metals, woods, and some boat-y vocab, but not, "Please help me find the nearest Apoteket, I'm blinded by headache and need some aspirin" or "You're welcome". I just walk around saying, "Ursäkta", which means Excuse me. I have to make a case for the polite American.

--A Carl Larsson Puzzle, which probably doesn't have all of its pieces, because who gives away a perfectly good puzzle? Not me. But I can hope.

--A book to potentially be named later, a picture book.

--And other small items also to be named later, since they are not for me.

Success, but on a minor scale.

What I of course didn't take into account, even as I was struggling to hold all this WHILE IN THE STORE, was that I would be carrying this around with me for the rest of the day. I chose to view it as self-flaggelation in my worship of the word. OH, but I forgot to tell you that it took me like half an hour to get all those things together because this woman, I swear, was standing in the tiny English book section reading, say, the first chapter of each book. I really don't think I'm exaggerating. Again, I feigned interest in many Swedish titles like, "Horses Are Great!" and "Quick and Easy Vegetarian Cooking in the Microwave" so as not to breathe down her neck and look at the books, which is what would have been required in such a small area. Ooh, I was pissed. Then, right as I was going to get into line, she stepped in front of me. Then complimented my Carl Larson puzzle, although it turned out she had no idea what it was, since it came in a tube...maybe she just appreciates a good watercolor. But her compliment, and jealousy, since SHE didn't find such a marvelous cylinder, made up for the fact that once I finally got to the English section, she had decided to take something like the only 25 good English books. All that was left was Judith Krantz and, I kid you not, "How to Raise Fancy Rats".

Anyways, all outrage aside, I walked through the little park nearly adjacent, and went left to get to what I've heard of as the Main Road in Söder, Götgatan. Before I got there, a dirty window full of awesome, pristine vintage stuff caught my eye, and although I was too nervous to ask her to take anything out of the window (it turns out the rest of the store was back issues of magazines and tons and tons of comics), I know where it is now, and I might have to go back.

But Götgatan was...touristy, but not awful. But not what I expected, exactly. I found some stores that, as an American, I consider Affordable Swedish Design, and it was great to look through them, but I'm not so into it, and I'm actually not sure I know anyone who specifically is. But fun things to look at, and dream about the little house on the Archipelago I'd fill with them. Okay, we all know that I'd fill it with stuff from Stadsmission, but if I was a homestager in the Argipelago, let's say.

I found another thrift store, luck of luck, and this one was better but...eh...still nothing, really. In terms of Swedish Brands, it's not like any J. Lindeberg is going to pop up there out of nowhere, and even H & M from the 90s doesn't really count as vintage, and I believe never will.

I walked all the way down Götgatan, and planned on...I don't know, turning left once I got to the water, back along the shore to Slussen? Honey, this is no Djurgården. I have a pretty good sense of direction, so I knew I was going the right way, but unless I missed it, this is not a place that has lovely, winding, sandy walking paths along the edge. But I did get a peek at, I believe, where the Hammarby soccer team either plays or practices.

I walked and walked...and walked. I think I accidentally made it into SoFo, or South of Folkungatan (why does every city NEED one of these?), which was great to see, but I was just too tired, and too...intimidated? to sit by myself at a cafe, plus I already had to use the ladies' and I was not excited about bringing two huge bags in in with me, plus I was wearing a coat, and I HATE that.

But I did manage to buy some tofu and chocolate soymilk at a darling little health food store I happened upon. And right across the street was another Stadmission! But I resisted the urge, feeling the weight of the bag cutting my poor, delicate fingers to ribbons, and I had a long way to go. I figured I would take the ferry home at some point, but I didn't quite realize what that meant. I found water's edge worth walking along....but then instead of going up the hill, where I would have been in a sweet little community and would have passed that vegetarian restaurant, I walked straight on, which led me to the Street of Garbage and CruiseLiners, which was incredibly upsetting. Especially after walking for 15 minutes, looking up and seeing the windows of Herman's, and then looking to my right and seeing the disgusting cruise ships.

By then it was too late to change my mind, but I still had a long way to go! It probably wasn't THAT long, but that bag made time drip by like Molasses on a January Day, excuse my New Englandism (I considered that the phrase could be from the South, but January's not exactly cold down there, so I claim these words in the name of the North!).

I didn't realize that the nearest ferry was just past Slussen, on Gamla Stan, really. Which turned out ok. I would have walked the whole way back if I hadn't had that damn bag, but when I got to the ferry and put the bag down, I was glad for my choice. Plus, who doesn't want to experience being jammed into a small boat with 60 other tourist-types with a crazyperson for a captain, which I am judging based on the speed with which every boat goes careening across the harbor. I kind of hoped we'd accidentally run over a jetskier, I can't lie.

Back at home, I read Diaz and had a feast outside.

Sunday was a relatively slow day, waking up pretty late, again, which is glorious, and I didn't even feel wasteful of the day, time, etc. I knew I was going to take a boat ride, but I was a little unsure about how to go about it, and, honestly, I think I was apprehensive about doing such a touristy thing...but who cares, I'm not fooling anyone into thinking I'm Swedish. But I WORK HERE, man.

I found a suitable tour, an archipelago tour, that left from Kajplats 7. I was on Nybroplan, and it was thrilling to know just where I wanted to go to get kaffe for the hour's wait. I sat in the park and read Diaz, of course, and had my coffee. My tour started at 1330, and at 1300 or so I went to Pressbyrån, got some pistachios (why are there no pumpkin seeds with shells that exist in this country??), and headed for the kaj! I got in line, read some more Diaz, and continued to read while everyone boarded and chose seats. I decided to sit to port on the upper deck, following everyone else, I guess. I didn't end up sitting for most of the tour, however, since there were so many things pointed out to us on either side. I later realized I should have taken them up on the offer to sit in the bow on the main deck for the best view, but live and learn, and then pick up a folding chair and sit where you want.

No one else seemed to notice the ominous signs that not only was this a THREE HOUR TOUR, but it left from the kajplats where the Vasa was built!!! Although there's a good chance I was the only one on the boat who knew that. But it was a generally beautiful day, and I ended up taking all sorts of pictures of houses I'll own someday, but I'll remove the little aluminum boat and replace it with the wooden one that I will have made at the Boatbuilding School on Skeppsholmen. I can't wait.

Anyway, the tour was delightful but unremarkable, to be honest. Although I did have a REALLY hard time holding myself back from waving at every single person that passed on a boat, since That's What We Do in America. But this was not my boat, and no one seemed to be waving at me, so I held off.

Just as I got back to my beloved Sankt Erik, a new museifartyget (you can appear more adult when you realize the word is musei-far-tyget, but sometimes you have to giggle like it's 1997 (which would make me 12 (and potty humor amused me, unlike now, of course))). I believe that translates to Museum Vessel. Her name is Spica and although I'm sure she's fascinating to some people, military enthusiasts in particular, I kind of feel like she has a hull only a Mothership could love. But I love hearing her name said in Swedish, with that crazy last-syllable accent, speee-KAH!

I finished Oscar Wao.

Monday, back to work! I got many things done, although it seems a little useless to recount them here. I'm feeling very positive about it, and it seems like everyone else is too! Phew!

I put on my overalls, put together another table, and again found myself on Vega until wee hours, talking about Lord Knows What. I find myself, the great mimic, drawn to speaking English like they do, since most people I talk to here, whilst speaking very good English, have a little accent...how they pronounce j's and anything that starts with sh or sk, so good, so Swedish. Ship can sound like hrip, or shreep, but more aspirated...so good. I also have been occasionally thinking in roundabout ways, since that's how everyone expresses themselves in languages that are not their first; I do it in French. But now I also do it in English.

Them: "Hey, do you want some tea?"

Me, in my head, "I will be wanting some when I finish this book which I am reading". But thankfully, I'm a quick thinker, and I say, "yeah, tack."

Today has been the start of a task I find challenging...or maybe just a task that challenges my sense that everything should be perfectly documented from the start, which just rarely happens, especially when you have pressure from your backers to finish up and get the boat out of the water already, and you're writing on waterproof paper up to your neck in bottom-of-the-river sludge. Or maybe I'm oversimplifying.

Actually, that will come a little later, when I try to figure out what was in each barrel that also contained at least one button, or near enough to each skeleton for it to potentially belong to him or her. For now I'm just challenging my sense of efficiency by searching 50 findnumbers before and after each button listing. When I get to that barrel/skeleton bingo game, I'll wish that they had recorded in each barrel listing exactly what was in it, with the findnumber of each...but then what would I do with my time?

I'm excited to be on my way to becoming the world's Foremost Early 17th Century Swedish Button Scholar. Until s/he unmasks him/herself and gives me lots of useful information on button production in the 1620s, after which I will willingly hand back over the title, and content myself with Leading Vasa Artifact Expert: Button Unit.

Tre dagar!

Hello! So sorry for the delay, I can't believe I have three days to tell you about! I've just been having a wonderful time, which is obviously better than blogging about an ok time. Here goes:

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

onsdag 19 maj 2009

Last day of work before semester, or vacation. I guess it's not vacation so much as a long weekend. Here, red days are vacation days, like Thanksgiving, Easter, etc. But if there is a day in between that day and the weekend, you usually have that off, too, which my friends call Squeeze Days, or klämdagar, I believe.

And Fred is back from America! So we had a great talk about what to do with the information I've gathered, and where the project will go from here. It was really nice to have some serious direction! As of publication of this post, I have all the buttons documented, but none of the other hardware I will eventually work on...although there are potentially more buttons made out of materials I haven't explored yet. But it's nice to know I'm headed in the right direction! So I was in the basement all day, measuring and drawing...tiring and painful for the thumb (I use a really serious caliper).

When I got back to the boat, there was a nice party for those whom worked on the exhibit that opened a few weeks ago. They graciously donated much food and beer to my cause, and we talked a bit. I sat out in the glorious sun, and after a while Odd came by to invite me to dinner with them, and of course I said, "yes, if it's ok."

After everyone was showered and ready for dinner, Tommy and his brother went in the work van and the rest of us got into Herman's daughter's Volvo. So Herman is driving, Odd sits in front, and I'm in back with Jann Olof, the 3rd most darling 84 year old man I've ever met (after my two grandfathers), who speaks about as much English as I speak Swedish. I wonder if he's above the age cutoff for fluency in English? But I didn't know it was Herman's daughter's car when we get in, so I'm sitting in the back with an 84-year-old Swedish man, and Swedish pop comes SCREAMING on the radio, it was just ridiculous...and perfect. I couldn't stop smiling.

We took "the scenic route" to the restaurant in Södermalm, which is called Herman's, no relation to the man driving. As we walked in I realized that it was a vegetarian restaurant, since both Odd and Jann Olof eat no meat. It was pretty much my dream come true--a huge vegetarian buffet with relatively cheap beer, plus an incredible view of the city from where we sat, in an atrium-like area. The employees advised us to take two plates, since the buffet was closing soon, and the guys took three. I had some wonderful warm lentil salad, cauliflower, some of the best hummus I've had anywhere, and tons more...what I felt was two plates full. Herman (our friend) had lots of jokes to make about the meatless nature of the food, which reminded me so much of how Gil and Bryson and everyone used to try to get me to eat the "meatless" chicken wings at Voodoo Grill.

It was a glorious dinner, and we came home and took a tour of the Sankt Erik's engine(s?). SO BIG. I know this is a big boat, but I guess I didn't realize how big the engine is (engines are?) and how little space people actually use for living on this boat. None of it really clicked for me, since I have little frame of reference, but it's a beautiful old engine. I will take pictures someday, at least Mike will enjoy them.

It must have been past midnight at this point, so Herman and Jann Olof went home. Odd went to bed, but Tommy promised to finish the wine left over from the exhibit party with me, so we sat in the salong and talked about everything, as I seem to do here.

As he left (ok, walked maybe 10 feet to his boat), I promised to help them with the Ikea bunk beds and tables they wanted in their boat....so....

Thursday, May 21, 2009

törsdag 21 maj 2009

I wanted to wake up and help them right when they said they started, something like 8...but it ended up being more like 930. The first bunk bed took me like two hours to make, somehow...I think I was nervous about getting it right, even though it's just Ikea follow-the-pictures construction.

But after that first bunk I got some knäckebröd, kind of like Wasa crackers in America (also swedish, also available here, does Wasa ring a bell to anyone?), that are more than a staple in Sweden. I put some mild soft cheese on it, as well as the Mango-vanilla chile pepper flake marmelade on it...and I don't think I'll eat anything else for the rest of my time here, it was so good. I've already used so much of the marmelade that I think I'll have to go back to Uppsala for more. Which is fortunate, since I think I'll end up visiting one of my friend's friends who lives there.

I offered some of that soup I had made to meat eaters, and some couscous I had made to the veggies, and everyone had a fantastic lunch, if I do say so myself. No one seemed to mind that the carrots were not fully cooked.

After lunch, I went with Tommy to the grocery store in the suburbs, which was quite an experience. It's...sort of like a Super Stop and Shop, I guess...but Swedish. Way bigger, and WAY CHEAPER than the ones in the city, obviously, but I just couldn't bring myself to buy so much stuff because I didn't have a recipe in mind. Tommy was planning a barbeque that night, as we had been talking about for at least a week or two, and I helped him find all the things he needed for that. I didn't have my camera with me, so I can't show you the picture I took with my phone (stupid Dell), but they have tubes and tubes of what they call American Dressing (I forget the translation)...I guess that's like Special Sauce? Ketchup and Mayonnaise? Ick, who knows, I didn't buy it to find out.

But we came back, I put together another bed, and it was time for dinner! In Connecticut, in the summer we grill literally every night, so I've really been missing that. The great part about this barbeque was that, first of all, it was done on DISPOSABLE GRILLS that don't exist in America, as far as I know. Secondly, it was pork tenderloin, asparagus, and potatoes, the normal fare for our barebeques...but different...maybe not Swedish, necessarily, but it was delicious! Plus I got to try grilled halloumi, which could have been my whole meal.

Tommy is on the right, grilling away. I couldn't exactly get anyone to get my really hilarious joke about barbequeing to celebrate the Ascension, which is why everyone but these guys had the day off on Thursday....oh well. Note the goverment-issued work pants!

His "starters" were grilled asparagus, halloumi with chopped red onions, and sundried tomatoes....amazing!

The main course was marinated lamb tenderloin, incredibly fresh potato salad, and grilled zucchini! The veggies had what I believe were chickenless chicken breasts. Tommy won't take my praise as he should, but it was amazing.

We sat outside, on benches they got from an outdoor church, and those who were cold (aka everyone but me, as usual) put on the reflective fleeces Tommy and Odd wear when they do their real job, putting up motorway guard rails.

Voilà les hommes! The DARLING men. I'm not sure why Herman, furthest to the left, decided he needed to make that "wow, that's hot!" gesture for the picture...maybe it was the chiles in the potato salad? Jann Olof is next to him, then Tommy, and Odd is on the right. Note the brilliant yellow fleeces, as well as the beautiful green kyrka benches. H and J.O. are the electricians, and are brilliant!

After dinner we had kaffe, as required by unwritten law, and looked out on this view from midships, which has become my religion:

It was a feast of feasts! After dinner I put together THREE TABLES, which everyone was very impressed by, including myself, even though it's rather thoughtless work. One table to go, and one more bed, I believe, although that might come later to leave working space up in the bow.

We worked, worked, worked, had some tea, and then all went to bed a bit after midnight.

Friday, May 22, 2009

fredag 22 maj 2009

Woke up at 11! It was marvellous. I took forever to figure out what I wanted to wear, got a great outfit on, and walked outside....where it was raining. I took most of the exciting parts of the outfit off, put on my yellow raincoat, and headed off to the National Museum! Here is a view of it from Gamla Stan:

I apparently was not in the mood for museums. They have an exhibit up for two more days of the Pre-Raphaelites, which I should totally love...but I was kind of bored. There were too many things to see, and, more significantly, too many people!

I skimmed through the exhibits on design from 1500-1899, and then the 1900-2000 exhibit as well...which were both very nice. I think if I had gone there a few weeks ago I might have been more excited? Maybe not. I had already seen a great exhibit on Swedish design at the Nordiska Museet, this felt like a little bit of a redux. It was sort of like the NY Met to me (don't tell NYU)...maybe I just need more direction, personally. I'm sure many people appreciate a loose approach to chronological order and multiple intersecting rooms, but I'm not one of them. However, there were lots of beautiful things to look at!

Next is the Historiska Museet, and there are many more on my list! I need to something else in the meantime...I never thought I'd be THIS museumed out, but there are just too many....

Next I walked around Gamla Stan and had another HUGE slice of quiche at the darling little cafe I went to the other weekend...and finished quickly to give a couple my table. They felt bad but I wanted them to sit and enjoy the place and the wonderful food, and I was almost done anyways. I went into the yarn shops and the hantverk places where they have handmade Swedish things...I think...as handmade as they can be outside a real workshop, I imagine.

I finally got to go to a Stadsmission shop...it's like Goodwill, a place that sells secondhand things and the proceeds benefit the less fortunate. The one on Gamla Stan is tiny, but there were great things and it inspired me to find the other stores for potentially better finds! I'm excited to find the one in Södermalm...although that part of town is renowned for being the twin of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, I think it will be next on my list of places to visit in Stockholm.

I wanted to go away this weekend, but I must have gone about it the wrong way...I'm not finding anything cheap and easy, and I'd rather save my money for the places I KNOW I'll go later. I might still make it out to the archipelago in the next few days, we'll see. Until then, maybe I'll plan on making it to the other Stadsmission shops, or who knows! I'd definitely like to get a view of Stockholm from the water, even if I have to go on a silly one hour tour. I forgot to mention that I won't be able to sail on Vega next weekend...the man who had contracted the boat found out that there would be no showering for two days and cancelled the trip...idiot. I guess you could say he doesn't deserve to sail on the boat, though, she doesn't need namby pamby guests.

I read a little bit, drank an Astrakan Äppelcider, which is exactly what is sounds like, and was delicious. Maybe a little too sugary to drink more than one, but it's one of those things I'm glad to experience while I'm here. I looked at the schnapps and aquavit while I was at Systembolaget, traditional beverages here, but I'm not sure that anyone would drink them with me, and they're not exactly for drinking alone.

The rest of the weekend I have to myself! Anyone with good ideas is encouraged to suggest.

Love always,

Arianna

oh, right, pictures.

here you go, I obviously forgot again.

How kind of creepy is this? The elevators in the building have doors on each floor, not in the elevator itself, so if it's small, and if you have...a trash can or whatever that poor, fated man has in the elevator with him, be careful not to catch it on the edge as the elevator goes down!

This is potentially a totally illegal photo, although I believe the listing for these buttons is on the website...will check and potentially remove. But see all those beautiful, intricate drawings? and all those measurements? I had to ADD SPACES I took so many measurements. Awesome.

And yay, yay the boats! This one was the only painted one (ok, only out of three). So pretty! They all have sailing rigs too, Johan says gaff or sprit, and the students not only build the rigs too but sew the sails--BY HAND! Oh, Daddy, wouldn't you be so proud if I were a graduate?

The little baby Travelift with another beautiful boat. That's the Vasa Museet in the background, on the right!

Et enfin: les trois nouveaux bateaux, à coté des bateaux plus agés, qui ont été construire par les alumni de la programme. (And finally, the three new boats, next to older ones that were built by alums of the program.) It's too small to see, but they're doing some pretty heavy bailing out along that back row! The spectators were this great mix of very boat-y people (although the only Man Ponytail I saw was on a guy who looked...not very boat-y), crazy young hippie kids, and very chi chi older folks....it was great. What I can't believe about Stockholm Harbor is the incredible speed at which boats are allowed to race through...creating wake that, soon after I took this picture, almost threw the girl in the stern of that boat into the harbor, and then it bounced back off the kaj and almost knocked her off again. And not good for the boats! But I guess they're tied up accordingly. The other interesting, different part about boats in Stockholm is that they are all tied up with their bow to the kaj! None of this wussy "maybe I should exit the boat over the gunwale in the middle, where it's safe", everyone is just jumping off the bow onto shore...even the touristy boats just nose their way in and everyone has to find their way ashore over that one point! But in this picture, and parts you can't see, they have probably 15-20 boats where we generally would have "room" to fit 5. Just sayin'.

I should also say, although I don't believe he's reading this, Tack så mycket, Johan, you made my day, my week!

Boat Launching

Post nummer två of the day, hooray! Followers, rejoice!

After leaving work a bit early (shh, don't tell!), and in an attempt to continue to surround myself with bearded boatbuilders, I met up with Johan to get on the ferry to Skeppsholmen, across the way, to see the boats being launched! I paid 40 SEK to make a trip of...mmm...about 4 minutes, tops, that I could have swum in the same amount of time...I just would have been soppier.

But it was worth it to see the three beautiful boats the six students launched, and everyone so excited! They used this great little manual travel lift, and broke a bottle of something or other on the bow, with a little wreath, and a good luck wish bestowed by the master boatbuilder through what looked like some ancient gramophone horn thing, and it was off! They rowed around, realized their boats needed to do a little swelling, left them at the docks with some automatic pumps in their bilges, and had a celebratory drink!

Johan went through the program, best two years of his life, he says. As I explained before, they go into the woods and cut the wood the first year, leave it upstairs to season, and learn all about boatbuilding! The second year they spend with more learning, I'm assuming, courses to get their boater's licenses, etc, and building their boats, of course! Two people build each boat together, and they can choose which type they build, but it certainly has to be Swedish, or maybe just Scandinavian, and it's best, and most likely to be approved, if you choose one that, say, hasn't been built in 100 years, for example. Johan took his friend Christophe and me for a little tour of the buildings, which are beautiful and smell like tar and freshly cut wood, and I thought for a moment about owing my parents the money we paid for the deposit on my spot at NYU and staying here for the next two years...just...across the water. It just seems like such a wonderful atmosphere to be a part of, plus at the end, you can buy the boat you built, or someone else probably will. Johan still has the one he built, and he says it's still in almost perfect shape, thankyouverymuch.

The three of us went to a little bar/cafe run by Hostelling International that's located right as you come off the gangway of the HUGE SHIP HOSTEL they have on Skeppsholmen. Johan was disappointed to find out that the portions have been cut in half, while the prices have doubled...and they did away with the Happy Hour he was so looking forward to! Christophe is French, and his English is not...perfect yet, let's say, and when I finally admitted to understanding what they were saying, I had this incredible afternoon of speaking French with two native speakers! It was fantastic, and I was very flattered by their assurance that I speak very well, which, LISTEN UP MR. CREPE MAN CIRCA 1998 who embarrassed me about the way I was speaking outside the Eiffel Tower, gave me confidence to keep speaking, and I could almost keep up with them...except when Christophe broke off into the Swedish he's learning, and I got way lost. But how exciting! I ended up mumbling French to myself the rest of the day, almost thanking the cashier for the beer I bought at ICA in French, etc, etc. After being frustrated at my lack of Swedish, which is ridiculous, this was rather refreshing.

I spent the rest of the night as usual, reading and having a small supper outside, watching the beautiful sunset.

Not such a bad day! Only a few more entries to do tomorrow at work, then it's vacation time...or...a few more entries and a review meeting with Fred, and...hopefully vacation! I kid, this is Sweden, of course vacation, immediately, plus benefits.

god natt!

grådag

Tuesday, May 19, 2009
tisdag 19 maj 2009

It's already the 19th of May!!! How have I been here so long???

Sorry for not posting yesterday.

I spent the day with Dave Brubeck....on my iPod. We had a pretty nice time. I was frustrated in the morning for lack of direction, but I bit the bullet and tried my bricka on the access pad and it WORKED! There just happens to be one singular 1 mm square spot on both the bricka and my card, and once they match up, I'm in!

So I started on the part that has made me the most nervous--documentation! I really like doing it, but I have a hard time when I think about the information I might NOT be collecting because I don't know to, or WHAT HAPPENS IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT EACH METAL LOOKS LIKE....but I had nothing else constructive to do, so I turned on Jazz at Oberlin [Live], and Dave and I (and his band) collected some awesome data and drew some bitchin' sketches.

The best part is, the way that the data sheets are organized actually help me organize the other parts I was getting anxious about, so double-score!


When I got home, it was so awful out that finally I went to the store (alone) and Dave and I made this soup:

http://bread-and-honey.blogspot.com/2009/01/mushroom-quinoa-stew.html

which I would eat every day for the rest of my life, and I'm only exaggerating slightly. I had to make some substitutions, good and bad. I'm sorry I didn't have homemade stock like I have the past few times (nbd), but it's been so beautiful out I just can't be bothered to sit inside near the pot for 4 hours! Fine when you're knitting in the winter in a HOUSE. And the mushroom boullion that I substituted was so. good. The other thing I miss is fancy mushrooms, but I suppose my wallet's the better for it. You should check out their other recipes, Pea Soup with Pancetta? That's what I would eat every OTHER day for the rest of my life.

I chatted with the three Danes and one Englishman who are here for a conference, tried a Danish beer, and then hung out on the Vega until the wee hours talking about cars, obviously.

To the magasin!

hej då!

No, I don't know what time it is.

Sunday, May 17, 2009
söndag 17 maj 2009

Hulloa!

Today was a really simple Sunday...and it was beyond gorgeous out. I am happy to report that I am just absolutely glowing with sun.

I woke up late, since I didn't set my alarm, and that was perfect. A few other people were staying on the boat last night and I will say that the only bad thing about having other people on is that whenever anyone else uses the little sink in their bathroom, the faucets of which are those kind that only use water when you're pushing on the button (I went through so many different ways of trying to describe that), the release on the button is this incredibly loud bang that resonates through everyone else's room. Obviously throughout one's toilette you need the sink many times, and that was kind of excrutiating this morning. But if that's the worst of it...

I had big plans, as always, and simplified as I went along. The same stores that were not open on Gamla Stan last Sunday were probably not open today, either, and I hadn't gotten up and gone to Waldemarsudde in the morning, so I figured I'd make a day of it.

I ended up walking for about an hour and a half along the coast of Djurgården, which is just perfect, like I said before. I saw another house of my dreams, with these wonderful big glass French doors opening up on the third floor balcony looking out to this beautiful view across the water. One of the doors was open and the breeze was blowing through the curtains...I love that that's someone's reality. I explored all these different paths and had a wonderful walk, I felt at the same time that I could have walked forever but that I would also be very glad to see Waldemarsudde, which I knew was on my way home. I stopped into the museum, since it had been closed the last time I'd gone, and it was absolutely packed. I take back what I said before about kind of liking to visit on weekends when tons of other people are there, "to get the experience". It turns out, I don't. But I had a fine time. The limited-time Carl Larsson exhibit was still up, only will be for a few more days, and that was wonderful to see. He's such an icon of Swedish culture, and created many important images of Swedish life (whatever certain slice of that life it might have been) at the turn of the last century (when does that become 1999-2000?). I wonder how Swedes who don't run art museums think about him, if they like him, etc. I think he's wonderful, but maybe it's just because the pictures of his I'm familiar with are just so darling and so...Swedish to my American sensibility 100 years later.

But that was great, then in the mansion itself there was an exhibit about white, which I was relatively ambivalent on, because I feel like that subject, and a lot of the pieces, needed more explanation--for me, personally. Now is not the time for another, "I took Philosophy of Art at my Liberal Arts College in New England" conversation, but however you feel about pieces standing alone, or, rather, as needing an explanation or not...I didn't...I wasn't that fulfilled by it. Maybe the explanation wouldn't help. But there was this crazy installation piece with silver paper lining the floor, lots of white masks and sand and white coral on the floor and chairs, maybe some white jewelry too, with a bunch of 1700s white table ornaments on it, including a reproduction, just like they have in the Nordiska Museet in their Table Settings exhibit, of the taxidermied swan nobility used to stick roasted birds in, for a beautiful table setting. And they would use the swan a few times...I was going to say without washing it, but obviously? But what a ridiculous thing, to my modern sensibilities...and I'm not particularly worried about germs, either. Anyways, I would have liked to have read how that artist was presenting his piece, or at least what the curators felt they wanted or needed to say about it.

On the top floor was a dual-installation of Two Princes, one being my now-former-future husband, Carl Phillip, and his ancestor, Prins Eugen, who I now realize is the REAL prince I was supposed to marry, I'm just a little late. Carl Phillip is my former future husband specifically because of this exhibit, and I'm now realizing it obviously wasn't love to begin with or else I wouldn't care how cliche his Art is.

The theme was, Paradise, or something, and when I saw that it was about how he thought the Botanic Gardens at Uppsala were Paradise, I thought we were more meant to be than ever. But when I walked in, and first there were looping black and white videos of the drab, grey, hustle and bustle of what must be Stockholm, cars in fast forward, people in slow motion and then rewound, I started to get nervous. And then I walked in to some very nice, very large, VERY COLORFUL photos of the Botanic Gardens, close-ups of green stemmy things, and a bee on a sunflower. With quotations from many famous people about Paridise, ok. And a quote from himself, about Paradise, something to the tune of, "We all have our own Paridise". I hope I don't get kicked out of the country or anything, but... oh, contrast. I get, it, C.P.

So THEN I walk into the other galleries, and what wonderful pictures taken by Prins Eugen! Maybe I'm COMPLETELY BIASED toward black and white photos taken of rich people in their leisure activities at the turn of the last century...but I just thought they were grand. I was hoping they'd have a postcard of one or two of my favorites, and they did! So I put it above my bed, right under my light. It's a view of Waldemarsudde from a little rowboat, obviated by the oar sticking out of the lower right-hand corner. Maybe that sounds just as cliche to everyone else, but it certainly stirred my aesthetic emotion. They were just these great, simple photos of him, his family, and his friends just being silly and going places, dressed in the clothing of my dreams. I think that's why I'm drawn to Carl Larsson, too...the pictures I'm most familiar with are of women in Edwardian dresses, ranging from gowns to more traditionally patterned material, and little boys in Scandinavian sweaters...oh and little blonde girls in clogs, COME ON.

Anyways, totally over Carl P.

As I walked home, with the end of my Selected Shorts in my headphones, a wierd looking guy said, "Ursäkta" which means, "Excuse me"...but I decided to pretend I couldn't hear him, there were like 8 million other people, and he didn't look like he was in distress. But later he walked by me, and walked like right in front of me for a while...and finally looked back and asked me what time it was. Really? But I couldn't ignore him, really, so:
Arianna: Oh...uh...2:14
Guy: Oh, thanks.
Arianna starts to put back in earphone but...
Guy:where are you from?
Ugh. I should have just said, hey, I'm sorry, I'm...late, or something, but I told him, and he tried to get into this whole conversation with me about Sweden, which he's not from, and how he had BEEN to America before, to Los Angeles, which is bigger than Stockholm (oh, yeah? you get right out of town, let's talk about it for hours, I'd love to)...and just then we had to funnel into this sidewalk where they were doing work, and people were coming through, so we had to wait. I feel kind of bad, but when the people were through, I just put in my earphone and walked, no sorry or anything. But I HATE that. Are you really going to bother me when I'm obviously walking toward a destination, AND I have earphones in? I can appreciate wanting to talk to someone, or legitimately bothering someone to know the time, but what a skeevy, immediately suspicious way to try to start a conversation! No thanks.

I got home and sat out on my beautiful deck all afternoon because it was stunning out. I listened to many stored Selected Shorts and This American Lifes, but I have run out, and I can't connect my computer to the internet to get more! I'm exhausting all my supplies of New England Entertainment, NPR podcasts and Somerset Maughm books...quick, someone get me a classical music CD, or an e.e. cummings collection...I'll even take back logs of the New Yorker! Or maybe someday I'll learn how to sit quietly with my thoughts. But until then, I'll be reading Joan Didion online, dreaming about New York.

Speaking of thoughts, I have two more days of work to organize those that I have about buttons to be able to communicate with Fred in the most efficient way about the fact that I am lost. In a good way, I feel, where, in my opinion (let's see what he says!) I have collected quite a bit of information, but have hit some dead ends. As Chris, my advisor from school can tell you, I like to look at EVERYTHING AT ONCE and I've been trying very hard to channel my many energies into simplifying, and to focus them on one thing at a time. But everything's so connected, and I don't always know where to look here. I'll be glad to have him back, plus Arvid's gone, too, and I'm lonely in that office!

Wish me luck,
god natt,
a

ugh, photos.

Sorry, I totally forgot the photos. Looking through the, like, 6 I took before my camera used up the new batteries made me realize that I also forgot to mention how much I was attracted to the town and it's darling architecture, serious focus on history (and the evolution of man and His History as well, which I love), etc, etc. But I feel like it's because a river runs through it! And that reminds me of another town I love so very much.

Anyways, ok sentimental.

You're just going to have to put these together with the words in the post below them, I really can't be bothered, sorrrry.


Domkyrkan (Cathedral)



Gustaviarum, that cupola thing is the Surgery Theater or whatever.

The river! Right under the tree, on the right bank, there are all sorts of wooden platforms built in for people to sit on.

Don't tell them I said this, but these guys were like, the worst dancers of the lot. They carried sticks and the women, in what I assume are traditional dresses, carried fake swords that they flipped back and forth. I'd like to see what it was like done correctly, or maybe I'm being too judgy.

This was the first group I saw, what is it, Karnival(en)?

I hate blogger. These are all out of order. But this was the relatively serreptitious photo I took of my view at the cafe in the Botanic Gardens, which you will see below.

Ahhh, order.

And here's my view from the Castle, and, as the cliche goes, the picture doesn't do it justice.

Stickers everywhere. I forgot to take them off, I SWEAR I forgot, I'm not one of those people who wears the Met (al) button all over Manhattan because you forgot.

This is a monkey house. A MONKEY HOUSE. Literally my first thought was..ok well my first thought was that they were birdhouses, but when I found out they were monkey houses all I wanted to do was call my friend Gilbert, that monkey-lover. These are all over the garden at Linneas' house. I guess he had a lot of different kinds of animals, and they all loved him as much as he loved them, as said the information on the plaques.

Slideshow over! I hope none of you are disappointed in my relative overflow of words but lack of photos...I just have so many thoughts about everything, and I hate people seeing me take pictures...they don't know that it's for a Very Important Blog. What do I care what they think, I suppose, but I just hate being That Visitor.

Anyways, bye.

Vandrar du, också?

Saturday, May 16, 2009
lörsdag 16 maj 2009

Oh, allihop! (Oh, everyone!)
I had such a marvellous day.

Yesterday I did almost nothing of note, except had a nice long chat with Johan out on the deck in the sunshine, listening to that crazy Musicky Play thing I heard the other night...we sleuthed it out that the Shamrock, one of the boats that belongs to the boatbuilding school across the way, must be renting its deck out for performances! What a brilliant idea, boats are so expensive to keep up. Which is a lot of what we talked about, and about a million other things, but most importantly, he confirmed what I've been talking about re: spaces. As in, there's some awesome word for it, but legally, people are allowed access to everywhere that's not private property, which sounds obvious...but what people consider private property here is so different, and it creates this different attitude about public spaces...or so I thought until I walked home tonight and my beloved park was COVERED in trash. At least they seperated a lot of it into recycling piles, like good Swedes. But what a shock! How were they not stopped as they left the park?

Anyway, today was Uppsala day!

I set my clock for 8, for some dumb reason, and woke up at 755 on my own when my half-asleep brain reminded me that just because Google says it will take 30 min to walk there, you don't know exactly where you're going and your train leaves at 910, and the website told you MANY TIMES in Swedish that it is NONREFUNDABLE and NONSWITCHABLE, leave some time, idiot. My father would be so ashamed, and at the train station at 6:30 AM.

I chose those damn flip flops again, WHY? My feet are beyond disgusting, and I had to go to Apoteket and get bandaids so that I could actually keep walking, I had such bad blisters from walking Very Quickly to the Stockholm Centralstation. But they are so classy!

But I got there with a ton of time to spare, and it was easy to find this time. I got a delicious and inexpensive drinkable yogurt, having left the kanelbulle I bought the night before in the galley for time's sake. And it was so good. I watched the farmland and, I believe, parts of the road I was driven in on go by. I finished the last really dumb English book I had in one day, so I am now without one again, which is breaking my heart. But I did find an ok replacement for the ride home, which I will tell you about later, I'm very, very pleased.

I got to Uppsala and just started walking with everyone else and also partially towards the tallest thing around, which happened to be the castle, although I didn't find that out until the end of the day. I found all the department stores and icky chains, but kept walking until I saw the very helpful marking signs that are all over Uppsala. I followed the one to Domkyrka, which means Cathedral, which I knew was the only museum on my list that was open. I passed a little farmer's market, but decided I didn't want to carry spring onions around all day.

I....love cathedrals....but....didn't spend the paltry 10 SEK to get the guide in English (doesn't God appreciate thrift? I suppose not when the money is going to him and his....which I answered for later, he must have told the museum shop attendant), and so I just wandered around wondering how ridiculously old it all must be, which it was. I took a lap around, but all I wanted to see were those old clothes!!
Y'all, remember what I said about the lifelike human figures in all Swedish museums? The Cathedral didn't want to be left out. It's such a good likeness of...whomever...that when I first saw her, a woman was talking to her other friends in Swedish, but so close to the woman that I thought they were having a conversation, and when the woman just stared back at her...oh man, what a weird experience!
When I walked back out into the vestibule or whatever its called, religiously, there was a sign for the museum, called, adoringly, The Treasury. But I couldn't tell which door it was....and so I pulled a real nervous me and walked around the giftshop, bought a postcard, and the guy spoke to me in English! What a jerk, do I really look that American? Anyway, I was sort of watching to see where people went in while lurking around the entrance (thinking, oh, what are these lovely inscriptions on the floor? OH GRAVES, OBVIOUSLY), and I caught the tail end of an elderly woman's conversation with the dumb old museum shop guy (ok, not old, he's like my age), and he let her into the elevator. I followed her and grabbed the handle, and I heard, "EXCUSE ME. Where are you going." I'm sure it wasn't meant to be rude, but oh, the inflection! I told him I didn't know, but I wanted to see the Sture Murder clothing...and he said, "Fine, but it costs 30 SEK" with, I swear, such distain in his voice. Maybe not. But I was so embarassed. He was nice enough once I paid him, and he handed me a flashlight and a pamphlet. Oh, awesome, I'd love to go by myself into the darkness in a Medieval Cathedral full of really really dead people and other old stuff.
But after some ridiculous confusion over what buttons to push and when I could open the door to the elevator, and what floor do I get off on? I stepped out into a very cool little museum. You start at the fourth floor, and go down the stairs; each subsequent floor is "later". So we started with some...ecumenical? clothing from the Middle Ages, and the only surviving gala attire from the Middle Ages, a beautiful gown from the first part of the 14th century, I believe. What?
So then to the third floor, where my darling Sture Murder clothing is kept. Svante Sture and his sons Nils and Erik, a prominent family, were accused of Treason, I believe, held hostage in Uppsala Castle, and murdered by the King and his soldiers in 1567. Baby Erik was only 19! But their wife and mother saved three of their outfits and put them into a very intricate lockbox (8 bolts! or something! it takes up the whole of the lid!), which is also in the museum. It's just SO AWESOME to see in real life not only clothing this old, but the Real Thing I've just been looking at patterns of in the Janet Arnold book for so long. The religious vestiment didn't catch my attention, although it was beautiful to see. I just don't really know a cope from a...I was going to make some sort of archbishop-y joke, but I don't remember any more words for religious clothing. The only reason I remember cope is that it looks a hell of a lot like a cape (the word AND the garment).
But so I apologized to the guy again on the way out, he said it was ok with him (PHEW), and went to have a coffee and write my postcard. It was rather nice, but I all of a sudden realized that I DID want to go to that Farmer's Market, but for a secret reason to be revealed in the mail a week or so from now. I got myself some Mango-vanilla marmalade, which I realized on the train home is actually Mango-Vanilla Chili Pepper marmalade, which sounds so much better. Homemade, somewhere around Uppsala. That's awesome.
Then, obviously, I had to stop at the used bookseller's stall across the river. They never have English books (except an Agatha Christie novel with an appalling name), but I came across a find of finds. Actually, there were like four of them...all American Slang Dictionaries!! What? But I chose the one from 1970, because then I could learn two languages. It's incredible. The cover has this crazy cartoon man with a plaid coat and a purple and orange-polka dotted tie, and the woman has on an orange sleeveless turtleneck with bright pink pants...oh, right, 1970. He's saying, "Scram!" and she says, "Drop Dead!" HAH! I love this book already. The salesman looked at me when I handed it to him, and told me all about the newer editions he had, but I know I made the right choice. I'll get to it later.

I needed batteries for my camera, so I walked around and around, but wanted to get to the Museum Gustaviarum for the one o'clock Highlights Tour in English. A few websites made this museum out to be largely about Linneas (however you spell his freaking name, I've seen it in so many languages today I'll just pretend like it's 1628 and use whichever I want, whenever I want), but it was more about Europeans Finding Things on Other Dark Continents and about the history of Uppsala University, which was pretty cool. Plus Viking Funerals! I thought I had missed the tour, but when I heard someone talking loudly in English I knew I had found it! And he was very handsome, so I joined the tour (otherwise two old men and a little girl), and listened very carefully. He was a rather good tourguide, all pretty aside.
They have this really, REALLY cool...well there's no word for it, really, it's like a...little museum in one piece of....not furniture, exactly. There are thousands of things in a big piece the size of a card table...or maybe two, one on top of the other. It's a reflection of people starting to open up to the wonders of the world, and it's a great thing for the museum to have, since it's a museum in itself. It IS funny to think of what they thought the world was about at the time. Scientific instruments and tiny bowls from China, a monkey's paw and a roll of HUMAN SKIN, board games, all sorts of crazy stuff. There's a music box in the top, a table that comes out of the bottom...it's incredible what they thought to equip this thing with. One of the best parts, other than the preseved human skin, of course, was a big nut on the top, apparently from a tree that grows in Seychelles...but they didn't know that at the time, and since the nuts would float in from the sea, they assumed that they grew on palm trees on the bottom of the ocean, and so a silver Poseiden is holding up the nut, on a mountain of coral and seashells. Obviously.
But the whole museum has a focus on changing perspectives, which is why I liked it so much! I have an unfortunate soft spot for colonialistic museums with that hazy, Euro-centric Victorian attitude. Like the National Museum of Natural History in New York. And I love thinking about how the staging of the exhibits and the framing of the subject matter and information must have changed over the years. This one has a mummy!!! And mummified alligators! But why is all this stuff in Sweden!! It brings up that question of whether something should be in its own country, or if it's more important for that information to be spread around the world...I'm probably not going to go to Egypt any time soon, but now I've seen a former inhabitant, and the clothing (yeah, like from the year 600, and 900...the Coptic Tunic!) and beautiful jewellery, etc, etc. At least the Viking Burial stuff is from Sweden. That shit's awesome. Contemporary to some of the stuff in the Egyptian collection, and it was where all these guys were buried with the things they would need in the next life, in their boats. Not burned, just buried. So there's all this existing stuff! But...again, why is it not in the ground with his body, which I sure hope they reinterred. But....again....I'm glad to have seen it.

But the grand finale is the Autopsy Theater, which is totally not what it's called, maybe its the Operating Stage, or WHATEVER, but what a crazy thing to see. They did a human autopsy every 10 years or so...which is inconvenient if you're there in the middle years, but the only bodies they could do autopsies on were executed prisoners and the children (maybe grown up children?) of unwed mothers. Right, so, few bodies. The museum has recreated the room where they kept the bodies, though, thankfully, and if you peek in the window there's a creepy sheet on a table that obviously has some sort of bodyshaped thing under it. But the structure itself is fascinating. The guy who designed it also figured out our lymphatic system at the age of 22 sometime in the 17th century...but is most well known for his book Atlantica, in which, in that time of great Nationalism, he tried to prove that Atlantis was actually located right there, in Uppsala. I hope I'm remembered for this blog, not the stunning sold-out books I will write later that will probably definitely change the way we look at clothing forever.

But that was enough of the museum, although I did get into a fumbly conversation with the museum guide/museum shop attendant, whose name, I believe, was Adam, and if he's reading this he's totally welcome to visit the Vasamuseet anytime. I bought a postcard, and the stamps they had were only 11 kr, and you need it to be 12, and he couldn't find the one kr extra stamps, and so I said forget it, then he found them, but had already accidentally put the 11 kr stamps back in, and couldn't find them...it was thrilling.

I sat on the steps of the Cathedral and wrote another postcard!

And I headed off to the Carl Linneas Museum and Gardens, which were just lovely. I think I'll live there, too, with those gardens...and those gardeners. And those...monkey houses!! But probably no monkeys. Plus, they aren't the same if they're not given to you by the King, like his were. I wish I had known more about plants...and I was starting to get museumed out again. But they did have an awesome clothing collection, as many places here seem to. I hate to say so little about it but I hadn't eaten since my delicious drinkable yogurt on the train at 930, and it was now 1530, and I was definitely done with the Linneas Museum. But my departing train was at...2000! So I figured I'd have enough time to go to the Botanic Gardens.

On my way, I ran into part of the Cultural Heritage Fun Party Day in Uppsala Parade! It's wonderful to see Sweden embracing the different cultures that exist here now, but it was funny to see some of the groups....either only half of them learned their respective traditional dances, or some of them missed some of the rehearsals.

As usually happens to me, I follow my gut and I'm just a little bit off from what I had wanted, but am all the better for it. I followed the sign for the Botanic Gardens, and I ended up at...the Castle. But from the Castle, there is the most incredible view of the Gardens and the Linnarium or whatever it's called after that wonderful scientist that's all over that town. I walked down the many steps and tried to imagine what it would have been like in an 18th century gown! Until cars passed by in front of me, and some guy was taking a picture of another guy at the gates.

The Botanic Gardens were so beautiful. I couldn't do it in what will be my own multi-acre garden someday, but I love all that plotting and the symmetricality (right? symmetricness? just symmetry?) of the plants and I LOVE paths lined with trees.
But it was 1600ish and the cafe closed at 1700, so I walked through rather quickly. As I came around the Linnareium or whatever, a beautiful sight: about 10 men dressed in vintage suits playing croquet and drinking gin drinks! I almost fainted....or took a picture. But I did neither, fortunately and unfortunately. I continued on my way and found the darling little cafe. I could stand to be an Uppsala student...or even just a resident. The Gustaviarum (all this flipping Latin, sorry about the inconsistensies) and the Botanic Gardens are under the University's umbrella...so it's like the arboretum at Conn but....like 300 years older, and way...awesomer. I just sat in the sun with many other visitors, drinking a beer and eating some weirdo sandwich (red peppers, some sliced salami or something, brie, lettuce and cucumbers) and finishing with a little kanelbulle! I had so much time to kill, I broke from my doing, doing, doing and took a rest on one of the lawns of the Garden, which was so perfect. I had my plaid thing you all know I love so much, and I spread it out and used my bag for a pillow, took my shoes off...listened to all the birds and the fountain...and the Indian dance music two men were playing on their cellphone as they walked by...ah, the calming sounds of Uppsala. But it was wonderful.

I still had a lot of time, so I just walked back to the middle of town to see what I could see, and passed by this bar called Eko for the millionth time, and decided I should probably have another beer. I had another Wisby, like the one I had tried before, and although I really like it a lot, as I sat down at the outside table I kicked myself for not having tried something new. I watched the people of Uppsala coming home from work, and a whole lot of men in tails walking their bikes down from the Gustaviarum, where someone had a wedding in the Operating Theater, which I love, but one of the guys on my tour really disapproved of. I don't know, you're right there in the middle, they can fit like 200 people in the standing-room only stalls almost the way around (although, they'll only let you have like 60 because of firecodes, but it can fit 200 17th-century students and other guests who paid big bucks to watch the autopsies...my handsome tourguide was actually a handsome, funny tourguide, and had many, many jokes to tell in the autopsy room), and there's a great entrance, it doesn't seem so bad. Maybe put a curtain over that window where you peek into the body-storing room? Great. Reception can be in the Egyptology room.

But I watched all these very, very different people, and that was a wonderful part of my day. Full of beer, I still had a ton of time, so I went to the supermarket and tried a few new candies, looked for a kid's crossword but only found one MED FILIP OCH FREDRICH (with Filip and Fredrich, which is the name of their show...actually, it's söndagsparty (sunday party?) med Filip och Fredrich)! They're everywhere! And so I sat by the river with my candies...and still had forever to wait.

I kind of hate when people hand you fliers about stuff, but this one was about the continuation of We're So Glad People From All Over The World Now Call Uppsala Home Day, a concert in the park...and I walked down there, past Uppsalan versions of the tres chi-chi waterside bars...and failed to cross the river at the appropriate bridge, and was left on the other side (the left side, actually...or, it was the left side one way, at least), only to listen to the music from afar. It must have been Middle Eastern, and I couldn't name a single instrument I heard. Don't tell my Music Cultures of the World professor at Bates. Unrelatedly, I think I also saw a floating sauna.

Finally I had wasted enough time and I went to find the Uppsala Centralstation and sit.
I went to use the 5 kr bathroom (really?), but this guy was waiting outside them with unidentifiable intentions...was he waiting to use, or waiting for someone, or...the possibilities are endless. One was sort of open, so I kind of asked if it was busy and he somehow wordlessly let me know that he was waiting for someone...and I realized they were just going to pay once, and they'd switch off...and in my head I had already joined them in this little scam, the three of us against the world, and when I didn't do anything, he motioned politely to the other, available, WCs....and I realized that waiting for him would be INCREDIBLY WEIRD. And 5 kr is like 50 cents.

But I got a coffee at the Pressbyrån and sat outside...it was about 1930 so I had a good people-watching 30 minutes. I was sitting next to the automatic ticket machines, and this older gentleman asked me for help...and I told him I couldn't speak Swedish...and he told me with his squints that he probably forgot his glasses (does that sentence sound as weird to you as it does to me?)...and with his words that he hated using the machines but the counter inside was closed. So, together, we bought him a ticket! He asked where I was from, etc, and he is a self-described Head Prosecutor in Göteberg (sorry, today is not a correct spelling day. Case in point, I preliminarily mistyped that as spalling), and he was in Uppsala for his 50th reunion at Uppsala University! He told me he didn't want to take up my time, and although he seemed like a very nice man and I wanted him to keep talking to me, since I spend so much of my time here not talking to anyone...but I don't know, you never know with people, so I let him go. Oh well.

When the train came, I opened my new book, and I would like to give you a sample of why I love this book so much. There are so many terms I wish we could bring back, so many of which I never even knew existed:
boobess: as in, female boob, as in, woman idiot. Why not? If other languages can gender their nouns, why can't we?
fourletteracy: pornography, which can always use more euphamisms.
horse opera: Ok, I guess this one doesn't have much use today..it means something like B-list Western movie, but I just like the idea of saying, "Well, Miriam, we've got nothing else to do this Saturday, let's go see that ol' horse opera playing at the movie house."
Milquetoast: there's an alternate spelling in here, but I've always loved this word because I feel it's sort of an onomotopia, milque is just such a blah word.
mousefink: WHAT. the swedish definition says a prudish and boring person. maybe someone who's not even finky enough to be called a ratfink?
non-U: I'm not sure what that stands for, but according to the author and her sources, it means unaristocratic, unrefined.
skull session: what an unnecessary word...like brainstorming, which is what it means, essentially.
and of course, like everyone's recent favorite, the Canadian Tuxedo, we have,
woods tuxedo, which is a corderoy suit. Although that's not as "clever".

This book has helped me realize how many racist and homophobic words exsisted; I'm glad to know I didn't know a lot of them, but am sorry to know that I did recognize a lot, and that they're in the book at all.

Women's magazines WISH they could think of things like infanticipating, which I think is really wanting a baby.

But my favorite one of all, that made me laugh out loud is:
cauliflower ear, not only because that doesn't seem like slang to me, but also because I can picture someone describing last night's fight to someone, getting caught up in his English, and pulling out this book, finally, contentedly describing exactly what the losing man's ear looked like in the eloquent descriptive glory it deserves.

Anyway, that was my lovely, lovely day. A lot of the time I wish I had someone with me, but a lot of the time I realize that I can do whatever I want! There are pros and cons either way.

Speaking of which, next weekend is a four day weekend...where shall I go? I wish China, actually, although I never thought those words would come out of my mouth. I just would love to go with someone who loves it, and Greg is living there, and sounding like he loves it. But that ticket (and trip) is not worth probably only two days of actually being there.

So...Paris? Do I try to get Christian to take me in for a few days in London? I don't actually know a ton of people in Europe (does ending that sentence with "anymore" make me a snot?). So where??? Do I go somewhere closer, that I probably won't go to otherwise...or do I go where I'm comfortable with the language? I'm going to try to go to Holland to stay with Annemiek, if she'll have me, and see Sarah's play, which is ridiculous..and that's in a few weekends, so that's off my list. And I am going to Norway and the UK later, so I probably shouldn't do those...so many options, it's insane! And not too expensive either!!! Anyways, I want your opinions!

I love you all so very much, I wish each of you was here with me to see all these incredible things and meet all these rude and delightful people and eat and drink these new things with me...but it's such an important experience for me to be doing it on my own, and I'm appreciating as many parts of that as I can.

I'll say goodnight to you, now, children.

Living on Djurgården

Thursday, May 14, 2009
torsdag 14 maj 2009

Hej!

So, it's decided. I will, in the future, own a summer estate on an otherwise unprocurable parcel of land in some big European city, complete with lilacs and copper copies of famous sculptures and hiking trails...Prins Eugen did it, why can't I?

Today, after a full day of linking personal containers (such as barrels, etc) to personal possessions (i.e. buttons), I decided to take a delightful walk around Djurgården, where I am lucky enough to live. It is not a place where many people live, and I'm only so fortunate because the museum exists on those hallowed grounds that the King is still allowed to rule legitimately. Apparently some other luckies are allowed as well, and as I was walking along the sidewalk next to the houses that line the harbor, I thought of how lucky those who live on the Neck in Marblehead are; but after I had walked far enough I realized that there are about 1/5 of the number of houses that there are on the Neck on Djurgården, and no matter how much I would love for one of the homeowners there to will me their house (and surrounding yards, gardens, waterfront access and summer estates), I would take any of the darling, huge houses in Djurgården. Some of them tend towards what we would call Gingerbread, if they were on Martha's Vineyard, but...plainer. And not as...Vineyardy. No offense to any of them...they're just as welcome to will me their Gingerbread House and any connected wintering spots.
But these are just...perfect.

PLUS, they have a huge national landmark and protected tract of land behind their houses...or...in front of their houses, to the North. Most of Djurgården (your goorden) is museum or national landmark. I believe I mentioned before how it used to be the King's official protected hunting grounds...and although I imagine not much hunting goes on anymore, excepting for the atrocity that is Gröna Lund, the Swedish equivalent of a theme park, it's still lush and overtaken by nature, hurrah!

The fates aligned, and as I walked along, I came to the entrance of Waldemarsudde, which I had seen many ads for and had seen as a bus destination, but wasn't entirely aware of its scope. It turns out to be a summer "cottage" willed to the country in 1945 by Prins Eugen (doesn't it feel like they left out an e or two?), now converted into an art museum. And, luck of lucks, it's open until 2000 on only Tuesdays and Thursdays...and THIS IS A THURSDAY! But as I walked around, fooling myself into maybe thinking this was the REAL Thinker by Rodin, noting that I would look it up on the internet when I got home, and finally, after long searching, found the entrance....there was a notice on the door saying that they were only open until 1700 that day. So much for that damned fate.

BUT on the way I was walking along some beautiful coastline, and decided to stop powerwalking and take better note of the scenery...and when I looked down, I saw a darling little duck....and four ducklings! One was flitting about in the water, nibbling on something or other, and the others were sleeping...until they decided to explore, and stretched their little duckling legs, which I would say counts as the cutest thing I have EVER SEEN. I stood there with two Swedish Ladies, whom I'm sure thought I was ignoring them, and once the baby darlings started to amble up toward the path with Momma behind them, we three left in a hurry to not catch Momma's wrath! But the moral of the story is, I got a really delightful walk in, plus who can resist the incredible charm of ducklings, especially when they're feeling like a stretch!

I came back and roasted a chicken, which was way more delicious than they are here, which might be attributed to the lack of poultry farming here. I'm not sure that that's true, but the chicken here is so expensive, and there are relatively few choices of cuts, so I imagine that they're not living by the millions up to their chests in their own you-know-what. Plus, they don't have the great Middle of America like we do, so where would they put all those dirty chickens? Anyways, sorry to ruin all of your dinners. I had a great one, and then I sat outside in the waning sun and read the end of my Maughm book, as I do every night (well, I read, I don't read the end of a Maughm book every night, for sure....I only have one, anyways.) I wish I could make some stock, like at home, but I'm nervous about the galley here, and I don't want to sit inside for three hours while the stock boils. Plus I haven't seen any celery here, so it's not really worth it.

Tomorrow another day of work, another night of reading, probably, and then off to Uppsala this weekend, and/or maybe I'll catch the boatbuilding students launching their boats on Skeppsholmen, if I can find out from Johan when that is! Or maybe both.
Then, on Monday, I have guests on the boat, lots of Danish and British Ph.D. students or whatnot, come for a conference!

Right now, however, it's REALLY just me here...my friends from Vega have gone home (what, do they have families they care about, or something?), and it looks like my friends who work on the St. Erik have really closed up for the weekend...but we'll see.

Thanks for your continued interest, Dear Reader, and I hope all of you visit next weekend--it's a five day weekend (thanks, Sweden!), and I don't actually have anything planned yet!!

God natt,

A