Showing posts with label conformity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conformity. Show all posts

Monday, 28 August 2017

Day 1479: Lönehelg


We all just had a lönehelg (löne = salary, helg = weekend).

Lönehelg refers to the weekend directly after the 25th of the month when most people get paid. It results in a measurable phenomenon in which high numbers of people who are really fucking bad at planning their household economy rush out and buy copious amounts of shit. This probably happens even in other countries, because hey, people are the same everywhere really; but Sweden has nearly double the amount of retail space per person than the rest of western Europe. They really outdo themselves in shopping as a hobby, and in morosely wandering around the bland shopping centres with their entire families pretending to enjoy the same 4 chain stores repeating ad infinitum. And for the love of Odin, DON'T GO TO IKEA ON A LÖNEHELG.

It's not just physical items either; restaurants, bars and clubs make more income on a lönehelg than at any other time of the month (except maybe at Christmas, Valentine's day ... you get the point). An important cultural facet of Swedish life consists of knowing the song Kung för en dag (king for a day) by the holy saint of pop music Magnus Uggla who is known hysterically and exclusively by Swedish people and absolutely nobody else, anywhere, ever. The song satirically explains exactly what happens to the average dumbo every 25th of the month, who spends all their money in an orgasm of stupidity and then goes back to eating instant noodles on the 26th.

Fortunately I survived my lönehelg with most of my wallet intact. No noodles for me! Break out the champagne everybody!

Monday, 21 March 2016

Day 957: Is the gym a hobby?


There are lots of things I've adapted to here in Sweden. The standard awkward silences that happen because people are so socially retarded. The catering to people's every, tiny, emotional or physical need. The parents asking me if class is cancelled on a Tuesday because "it's nearly Easter". The pickled herring.

But something I really, really struggle with is the idea that going to the gym is an acceptable hobby.

Today in the virtual toilet paper that is the Metro I read an interview with a girl who was extolling the virtues of becoming a midwife in Sweden. And while there's nothing wrong with being a midwife or having children, I won't go into my even longer rant about how short sighted Sweden is in its flagrant and sustained moral bombardment of the whole population to pump out as many FUCKING CHILDREN as possible RIGHT NOW. Instead I'll tell you about how this particular midwife wannabe wanted everyone to know that her ONE AND ONLY HOBBY is "Crossfit Training". I was so incensed by this shitty nappy of an excuse for a hobby that I stuffed the whole newspaper down the side of my seat and did not read any more.

To me, going to the gym is very much like going to work or doing the hoovering. You don't want to, don't like to and you don't have to do these things, except there are certain benefits to your going and doing them (such as you don't get fired or suffer severe allergic reactions to ten tonnes of dusty shit). I can accept that going to the gym keeps you in shape and helps clear away the diabetes collection which you so lovingly store in your arteries. In fact, I'm well aware that you can get an endorphins rush from going to the gym that could give you the illusion that you have done something fun that may make you believe you've been engaged in a hobby.

But, if your life is so FULL OF MEANINGLESS SHITTY SHIT that you then go on to, not only tell your friends about how you lift weighted objects in the air repeatedly and put one foot in front of the other at different paces for half an hour on a machine, but also confess, nay BRAG, to a national, widely-read newspaper that this is your MAIN source of entertainment, then I can only PITY YOU. But the sad thing is, she only has Crossfit as her hobby because this whole ridiculous nation expects and DEMANDS that a person, especially one who works in healthcare role, LOVES AND CHERISHES AND ADORES AND CARESSES AND PROBABLY EVEN HAS SEX WITH exercise.

In fact, the "midwife" might not even be a midwife. She might just be a stock photograph of a generic blonde woman which the bollocks Metro newspaper dug up in order to further its buttmunch excuse for journalism. "Any news today Sven?" "Nah not really, just run some propaganda about 1. making more babies 2. filling in gaps in the work market and 3. going to the gym, people in the Nordic market really dig that shit". AND SO THEY DID, THANKS SVEN. Wow Sven man, you deserve a raise. You managed to concoct something which ticked all three boxes in one fell swoop, and made me gag so hard my colon nearly came out my mouth.

Next time you feel yourself about to tell people how great your run/gym/spinning class/yoga/INSERT GENERIC MOTION ACTIVITY HERE was, just STOP and think. Was it sociable? Out of the ordinary? Funny? Unusual? Did you learn something you can share with other people? Did you create something you can show to others? If you answer no to these questions and you open your fucking trap anyway to talk about running on a treadmill then you are effectively a SPORT JEHOVAS WITNESS and NOBODY LIKES YOU. (Unless you're in Sweden, where people will let you speak without listening to you and then contribute their own story about running on a treadmill which you will enjoy to the same degree as they enjoyed yours. Ad nauseam if you are in a group of Swedes. And I'm not sure if this counts as them "liking you" but for some reason faking an interest in other people's treadmill activity while repeatedly cooing stock phrases like "jaaaa, aaaah, aaaah, mmmm. Just det. Vad bra! Vad spännande. mmm. Ja." is the height of social capability here.)

Monday, 25 January 2016

Day 901: Flat Hunting

I'm packing my bag and movin' on down to the big (er, moderately sized by European standards) city of Stockholm!

But before I can do that, there's a lot of flat hunting to be done.

I've never been in a position to buy any kind of property in London and I probably never will (I was going to do a bunch of research and give some interesting statistics about how many people own homes in London and how much it costs but I started reading and got too angry and depressed so I stopped.) Essentially what I'm writing here is not a comparison of English and Swedish life because I don't have a point of comparison having never owned anything in England. Instead it's a look at the quirks of browsing the Swedish home market.

For the past few weekends, and even some weekdays too, I've been looking at flats with my sambo to get a feel for what kinds of flats are on the market, how much stuff costs, which areas we actually want to live in and which areas suck sweaty, dirty balls.

Pretty much any house worth its bricks is listed on a website called Hemnet which, in typical Swedish fashion, also has a well made app on which you can draw the areas you want to search with a virtual pencil.


I get the impression that many Swedish people browse Hemnet and view flats just for the fun of it, after all it's SUCH a fun weekend activity for godawful couples with nothing better to do that ranks up there with "going round Ikea" and "checking out the high street". Hemnet sometimes gets over 2.5 million views a week, which is frankly astounding for a country with only 9.5 million people.

There are essentially 3 places to live in Stockholm, just like any other city; the expensive bit "inside the tolls" which extends just a bit north of the picture above, the slightly-cheaper-but-still-expensive bit just outside which has plenty of houses but not plenty of anything else, and the cheap bit with generous sizes for your money but long commutes with unreliable trains, questionable neighbours in some places and mind numbingly boring orbital towns in which the only source of entertainment is a big Willy.


No matter where you look, though, every flat has the same furniture because the seller has hired rental furniture from the estate agent, who in turn has probably done extensive research into exactly which furniture is best for driving up the price. All the houses are painted white as a backdrop for these items, I did a random search and these were the first 5 of the flats that showed up, all are white:


Apparently Scarlet Johansson's giant face sells well:

I know it's her because I viewed the flat and her face was CREEPY



as do apples:





I would browse for more spot-the-difference (or not) pictures but I just can't bear to look at flats any more than I absolutely have to. There are always candles, similar kinds of soap in the bathroom, fake fur throws on the balcony furniture, a funky coffee machine of some sort, fresh flowers, herbs and a good old HEMNES:


The whole time you're viewing, you're supposed to perform some kind of mental feat (a bit like Orwellian DoubleThink) in which you both appreciate the style of the room with the furniture in it, whilst simultaneously blanking the furniture out and replacing it with your own furniture. You have to see that the furniture and accessories exist and at the same time realise they do not exist in the house as you would have it. This, I will freely admit, is not a skill I have. I truly believe that I will have a HEMNES full of apples and posters of Scarlet Johansson when I finally live in Stockholm.

The oppressive samey-ness of the furniture, the plan layouts, the colours, the sales agents and the accents is only one part of a larger problem: the other people viewing the flats. The blandness of the flats is a symptom of the blandness of the viewers. The sales agents know what people like and give it to them. People queue up nicely, set their many shoes by the door and mill about in the hallway like so many shepherded sheep, looking at a pre-set list of values; is the wooden floor in good condition? Is the light coming from the south? How much debt does the residents association have? Is the floor layout original or have the occupants made changes? Is there a lift?

I viewed a flat last week and I really liked it. I would have bid for it, in fact. But it was not a very orthodox flat; the current owners had renovated, compromising on bedroom space to make room for an amazing kitchen with space for any conceivable size of party. The living room was not a standard square (Shock! Horror! Nightmare!) and the bathroom was not directly attached to the bedroom. Nobody was interested in this flat. There were no queues of shoes outside and no scrum of sheep inside. "Great!" I naively believed. Thinking this would mean a good price.

Actually what it means is that the flat would be very difficult to sell in the future and would not be a good investment. People don't like it because it doesn't meet their parameters of what is interesting. The absence of a lift, even in a building with just 3 floors, can wipe up to half a million Krona off the desired price for the flat on resale (another bizarre fact, given Swedish obsession with health and fitness). When starting out I really enjoyed flat hunting with my sambo and looking for that special place with a quirk just for us. I now realise that there can be no quirk, I have to conform to the ideals of the Swedish market if I want a sensible investment. And this, for me, sucks the fun out of the whole process.