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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.