Day 1472: 4 Years in Sweden

Four years ago, on Saturday 10th August 2013, I moved to Sweden.

And four years ago to the day, on Wednesday 21st August 2013 I received my person number, making me an official part of the Swedish machine and able to pay my kronor to the män.

Looking back at my old blog posts is quite interesting for me, it makes me reflect on how much is so completely normal now that I would not even notice, let alone write a post about.

Here's a trip down my memory lane.

1. Public Art

In some of my earliest posts I wrote some comments about the "strange" public art around, usually derisively. In London there is a total lack of public art in public spaces (although sometimes there is poetry on the tube!) so they really stood out. Now I don't even notice the public art and that's quite sad! Instead I notice how shit everywhere else is without really being able to put my finger on why it's shit...

2. The eternal struggle of the laundry room

In my old flat the laundry room was a novelty in the beginning of my living here and it became a convenience - multiple washing machines at once! A big room to dry clothes! Several dryers! A mangle (that I'll never use) !!! And so socialist, surely it's much better for the environment that everyone shares rather than each person having a private machine?

Well now I live in a new, much bigger, building and Fuck That. I want my own machine! I want to have a clean fluff filter on my dryer that doesn't make my clothes dusty! I want my clothes to dry for as long as they need without running downstairs to hastily grab everything still damp from the drying cupboard so the next wanker can use it! I want to wash after 10 bloody PM if I bloody well feel like it! And most of all, oOoohh most of all, I want to avoid the wash slot booking system that the residents association fucked up and left 3 people with 1 key to the same booking mechanism, so that my booked time is randomly moved around the booking board and makes me believe I am developing Alzheimers because I think I've forgotten which time I booked.

3. Passive Aggressive Swedes

Honestly this is something I've never been a fan of, as my four year old post will attest. I am perpetually amazed by the Swedish dedication to packing their rage down into a decrepit corner of themselves before either a) blasting it out in a well penned note or b) not doing that, and randomly exploding at service personnel in an uncontrolled immense offload that usually has no sense of proportion in relation to the minor or imagined injustice they witnessed.

I'm learning how to drive, and I recently pulled out in front of a fast moving Volvo because I had the right of way. The Volvo did not think I had the right of way and beeped at me. I thought nothing of it because I am a learner and learners make mistakes, but my instructor was worried. Why was she worried? Because very often, drivers who feel slighted by being made to slow down for 2 seconds of their day by a learner will sit on that RAAAAAAGE all the livelong day until they make it to a computer where they will write that well-penned letter and report the driving school for malpractice. Who has that much time and energy to waste being angry all day at a FUCKING SHIT LEARNER DRIVER? Swedish people with comfortable lives and no real problems, that's who.

4. Drinking

I saw some beer in a school and I thought it was because Swedes like to kick back.


No.

Beer is drunk by the following categories of Swedes:

• Old/Middle aged men who drink Pripps Blå with lunch (a korv med bröd or a hamburger) because that's what they've been doing since the 70's and they never got the memo about bowel cancer
• Youth who get fucked up on Friday and Saturday, usually other days too,  live only for that, and hang around in obnoxious groups passive aggressively saying snide comments to passers by but never actually doing anything serious
•  20-30 somethings who say they like fun, but they will make penance for their beer by running or going to the gym every god damn day, so that they only thing they actually have to talk about while drinking beer is how they went running. Repeat ad infinitum

5. Knäckebröd

I commented early on that knäckebröd tastes like cardboard, now I quite like it. I still can't spread butter like a Swede, though.

6. So. Many. Candles

Of all my blog posts, I think I spent the most time researching not one, but two lists of names for candles in this country. I have only continued to be amazed by how much people love them, have them lit for no reason, how many shops are dedicated to them and how important they are for the concept of "mys" (cosy). I can probably not remember all of their names now by heart, but I definitely own a lot of them. I don't light them. Why are they here? How did they get here? A mystery.

7. Language Skillz

Two years ago I passed a TISUS test and recieved a qualification in Swedish language that allows me to study courses in Swedish, and convert my English teaching qualification to the Swedish system.

I am an avid reader in English, an avid speaker in English and, clearly, an avid writer of random crap among other things. I'm even an avid teacher of English! I am none of these things in Swedish, I am not the same person in Swedish. And I never will be.

Do I think I was actually good at Swedish two years ago? No. Do I think I'm good at Swedish now? No. But the system thinks I'm good enough and that's worth a lot to me.

8. Nature

I've really enjoyed being closer to nature here than I ever have been in England, and I'm not even a huge outdoorsy type. I've blogged about being able to ice skate on frozen rinks in winter, about going to the forest to pick berries,  about seeing the northern lights and about picking enough apples to make my own cider! I've now made too much cider and am officially SICK OF IT how cool is that!!?!? Time for a new project... Beer?

9. Etiquette 

Yep, I'm still learning. But I'm getting the hang of it, as one of my better liked posts can attest.

10. The Future?

Sometimes I complain about things, we all do. But overall I have it good here in Swedenland and I'm really grateful. When I look at my old blog posts it's obvious I've had a learning curve, a really nice one, learning a new language, getting to like new food, seeing some amazing places, benefiting from the high quality of home life and work life, meeting new friends.

It is interesting, and sad, to feel more detached from my old home and more attached to my new one, while forever feeling that I don't really belong in either any more.

I don't write about politics much on my blog because that's not my bag, baby. However this is as good a time as any to note that fascism is on the rise everywhere and it just doesn't make sense to an immigrant like me.

There are a lot of people who have left one place and moved to another, who feel like they've been moulded into something new that doesn't quite fit into a preassigned, nationalism-shaped hole and drop down into the waiting box of a homogeneous society.
And if I with my English stereotypes am feeling a bit like I've slipped between the cracks of two nations into the arsecrevice of uncertainty that this metaphor turned into, then I can't even begin to imagine how people whose original culture is nothing like the Swedish one must feel.

Anyone from elsewhere who can make sense of this much darkness, cold, passive-aggressive, self absorbed, gym-obessessed, well designed, self-congratulatory, individualistic yet somehow socialist perfectness, you da real MVP.

Day 1014: All you need is a dead parrot and you've got yourself a sketch

I've written before about catastrophic fuck-ups made by the local transport services in Sweden and even though I risk turning my blog into an unending rant about how piss poor communication is for passengers in the event of a service problem I feel like I have to share what happened today on a seemingly innocent replacement bus.

Now, it might not be as stupid as last week when my bus driver terminated early and ordered everyone onto the bus in front, which had done the same thing with its own passengers, before two completely empty busses drove off leaving a hundred or so very baffled commuters behind, but it probably could serve as a Monty Python sketch (or at the very least, a Benny Hill circular chase.)

Essentially what happened is that a vital tube line had a "power outage" (could be a code word, who knows) for a large portion of the route. When I went downstairs into the bus station as directed I could feel that there were a lot of very angry people wanting to get somewhere in a hurry. I don't really know where I got this mysterious feeling, but it may have had something to do with the two couples having a massive shouting match in the middle of a bus door about whose buggy got on first and is entitled to space. Or the crowd of people jostling to get on another replacement bus. Or the number of people shouting and swearing and cursing and yelling....bear in mind this was on a pleasant, sunny day in the middle of the afternoon and not in a blustery, miserable rush hour (if it had been, I would probably now be dead, judging by the patience levels of the people present).

I decided not to take the shouting-buggy-crazy-parents bus to the local train station, and opted for what I thought would be the safer choice, a rail replacement bus.

Oh how wrong I was!

First and foremost, I should have noticed that the bus driver had no idea what he was doing when he couldn't figure out how to close the doors. By the time he actually managed that, at least 20 additional overenthusiastic people had crammed themselves onto the bus. Some passengers were so angry about this that they began heckling, shouting and swearing at anyone who even looked like they might consider, maybe, turning their head towards the open doors. It was around about this time that I noticed there were two slightly, shall we say, unhinged people centred in the bus who wanted to complain, loudly, about things and get some feedback. Having worked in a library I have a wealth of experience with these kinds of people who, having nothing else to occupy them at around midday on work days, thrive in spaces with seating, warmth and plenty of people with nothing better to do that sit and listen and/or respond to them. Unfortunately, most other people don't have this wealth of experience and are like cannon fodder.

The part that these unhinged people enjoyed the most about the journey was when the driver took off in completely the wrong direction, heading north instead of south for 5 minutes along a road which only ended when you got to the roundabout to come back again. The driver, sensing that this was perhaps not the best thing to do with a bus full of very angry, very crowded nut-nuts, decided to tell everyone via intercom he had driven in the wrong direction because he was feeling stressed. This triggered a near riot and a scrum of know-it-alls shouting different suggestions for the best way to drive. Because, naturally, when you're stressed and driving a large vehicle, what you need is 30 different suggestions for the best route.

After what might have been the longest 20 minutes of my life covering ground that the usual train covers in 2 and standing in the middle of a crowd of people screaming either directions, complaints or "leave him alone he's stressed" we eventually arrived at the next tube stop. A good number of people chose this point to abandon ship, and I was relieved to see that the craziest were among them. But my relief was short lived since they were replaced by equally as crazy people. One man began punching the doors when the driver didn't follow his advice about what route to take. Although I was rather inclined to join him, since the route he had in fact taken was one that went twice around Raspberry Mountain, yes that really is a real place, rather clearly demonstrating that he had no fucking idea where he was. His response to the door-punching man's cries of "where are you going? why are you going here again!?" was to point one of the members of the scrum and say "he told me to go this way".

Eventually door-puncher was released from his bus-prison (which had many windows that were locked shut for some unfathomable reason) and the crowded bus calmed down a little bit. Just in time for a parade of old people with zimmerframes to come and try to find some space on the bus. Cue a host of aggressive and very warm (no windows, remember) passengers finding any excuse whatsoever to yell "help him! help her! stand up! move!" under a thinly veiled guise of helpfulness. At the next stop, I reached my tolerance limit for all the crazy, old, unhinged, hot, know-it-all or overly-helpful fellow passengers and managed to get a skeleton service train. At this point I had very much decided that the whole situation was almost a textbook definition of ridiculous and deserved a blog post. Unfortunately there was no way to take pictures of the events for the blog, so just imagine a bus full of angry people instead. I'll leave you with an image of Raspberry Mountain.

*Not the same Raspberry Mountain

Day 1012: Give us this day our daily sourdough

England has some really, really shite bread. The number one brand is Kingsmill but it's certainly not eaten by royalty and it's probably not really a mill, either. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the Kingsmill factory was just a room full of newspapers, wood shavings and disgruntled workers shoving small quantities of these into moulds before injecting them with air and dipping them into vats of bleach until the resulting product is so white you could squish several loaves together into a human shape, leave it on a beach somewhere in Alicante and have people assume it was an average British person. But hey, you are what you eat. Such is the nature of food culture in England that "healthy bread" means the same old shit that you used to eat but with a spattering of bran, not too much though or, heaven forbid, the kids will find out what real food looks like.

Some people try to convince themselves that they are actually healthy by buying brown bread, because they heard some spiel somewhere about whole grains. But companies in the UK are ahead of the curve on that one, and sell regular old white bread with a handful of other shit thrown in to make it LOOK like it's brown. "It's got 900 kinds of seeds in it! Wow!" Yeah...but is it brown? Is it fuck.

It is actually possible to buy wholemeal bread though, and you know it's the real deal because it's got a giant heart on it, in case you missed the memo about WHOLE WHEAT AND YOUR HEART. DID YOU KNOW IT'S GOOD FOR YOU, YEAH? But even if it didn't have a heart on it, you would know it was the healthy option because, just like brown rice and brown pasta, it offers not even a hint of the enjoyment of the unhealthy option and the eating experience is very much like gnawing desperately on an MDF table at 8am when the breakfast hunger pangs take you.

You might as well just give up and go for a bread that is totally devoid of any content whatsoever and designed entirely around toasting and slathering with butter (and this is England so I really mean it, get that knife in that butter block, or just, fuck it, put the whole butter slab on the toast and then add half a jar of Robinson's jam)

Sweden on the other hand, well, there is no other hand. In this respect England and Sweden really are similar. Sweden can boast as much as it likes about its class equality (most poor choices about food are linked to lack of understanding about good food, or economic inability to buy good food) but all that means is that theirs is a nation of people who really should know better about bread and who still buy the same old shit that their British neighbours do.

They also seem to fall for the same marketing tricks, believing that additional items ground into the loaf somehow magically make it more, well, magical. Like root vegetables. When have you ever been struck by the thought that your bread is missing something and that thing...is ROOT VEG?

Even if sometimes the bread comes in a different shape here, don't be fooled! It's still full of sugar. In England the bread is full of salt, some loaves have more than a gram per slice, but over here it's all about the syrup and the sugar. I confess I do enjoy a good rye or wheat cake, but I should have known what I was getting myself into when I saw the word cake...sugar by the bucketload!

This post was inspired by my search for a new daily bread, since moving to a new city we no longer have access to the delicious bread that was made in small, local factory that did its own deliveries. Now it's all about the big supermarkets and their big selection of SHITE. Everything is either bad, sourdough or a combination of the two with something experimental thrown in. Ah yes, sourdough. That's a big trend here. Everything is sourdough all the time. Especially when you don't particularly want sourdough. Here have some sourdough, it wouldn't be a complete blog post about Swedish bread without some.

Day 950: Ode to Uppsala

As you may have guessed from my previous post about looking for flats, I'm moving. And this means leaving the lovely city of Uppsala, a student town with a population of 100,000 people just 50km or so north of Stockholm. When I moved here from London just two and a half years ago I had no idea how to speak Swedish, a severe lack of friends, a fear of cycling, and no idea what it was like to not live with my mum. Fortunately I leave Uppsala considerably better prepared for Swedish life than I was when I came. Here's my tribute to all the things I will miss the most about Uppsala, or to put it better, all the things I will come back to visit, in no particular order:

1. Fyrishov

Sometimes, when I get my fat ass out of the chair I'm in, I go swimming here and it's brilliant. I usually get a lane to myself, I can listen to "Workin' 9-5" while I swim thanks to the old ladies swim exercise class and on Saturdays there's a disco in the adventure pool with a disco ball. I don't think there's a pool like you anywhere else in Sweden, Fyrishov, and I'll miss you.

2. Fyrisån

Through the middle of town runs the Fyris river and it's part of what makes Uppsala so picturesque. In the summer it's a cheap and underestimated day out to hire a canoe and paddle through town, or away from town towards Ulva Kvarn.

3. Distance to nature adventures 

There are so many great Nature places just on the doorstep. I've seen cows being let loose at Stabby gård, skated on a frozen lake at Österbybruk, been swimming in water that was so cold I lost all my breath when I jumped in at Fjällnora, went on a frozen forest walk in Färnebofjärden national park, and met all the baby goats at the goat farm in Långtora. These are just to name a few things!

4.  Close to other cities

I like cities as well as nature. When I've not felt like being in Stockholm, even if it is only 70km away, I've enjoyed Gävle's giant straw goat and railway museum, and Västerås' weird half-submurged hotels and excellent water park.

5. Living max. 30 minutes away from anybody, ever. (Even that guy who lives in Gottsunda)

Yeah. Gottsunda. I'll still come to your party, though.

6. Apples

Thanks, Uppsala, for making it so easy to a) find apples and b) press them into juice so that c) I can make loads of cheap, tasty cider. You can't do that in London so easily.

7. Student life

Farewell to students wondering around in costumes, people with boom boxes, people with Unicycles, people in formal wear, choir songs outside the window on the night before a gasque, gasques (like a formal dinner in a college until everyone gets absolutely fucking WANKERED.) and just general studenty madness.

8. How quiet it is when all the students leave

Yeah the student life brings some charm, but it its lovely when they all piss off.

9. Small social groups

I met pretty much everyone I know in the town through the Meetup website. It was quick and easy to meet great people from all over the place, all ready to hang out and have fun. I don't think it will be so easy and so straightforward in any other place!

10. Young people the majority

Being a student town, Uppsala has a lot of people around my age, making it even easier to meet friends with similar life experiences. Again, this is not something I expect to encounter in Stockholm!

11. Beautiful buildings

Here's a picture. 'Nuff said.

12. Cycling around

I only just got a bike, after years of people taunting me and wondering why I didn't have one. In the short time I've had it, I have definitely enjoyed the convenience of cycling around, usually on special bike lanes which are separate from traffic.

13. Fewer people, less noise

Yep, it's definitely lungnare here than it will be in Stockholm.

14. Valborg

If you're read my post about Valborg in Uppsala you'll be suprised to see it on this list, but I will miss the party spirit people get on the day, and watching the funny little boats crash their way down the river while drinking champagne at stupid o'clock.

15. Spex

After a year or two I finally had enough grasp of Swedish to go and see a Spex, a play performed by students during which the audience can shout things and make the actors improv changes to the plot, dialogue or, well, anything, to hilarious effect.

16. Lindvalls coffee making the station smell like sugar puffs

If you commute at a certain time on a certain day, you'll get to smell the roasting coffee wafting over the whole train station from the downwind Lindvalls coffee plant. I think it smells like sugar puffs, but that's just me!

 

17. Årummet, Fågelsången, Cafe Linne, and so on!

Damn, so many good spots for tea and cake, so little time!

18. The Local

There might only be a limited selection of pubs in Uppsala, but they are some good ones. I've spent the most time in Buddy's Irish pub, in fact I've just celebrated St. Patricks day there twice in two days. I go there so much the barmen all know me so it's probably time for me to get a new local.... William's pub used to be, er, tolerable but now has a new owner and an excellent pub quiz. Maybe I'll come back for that...

19. The Northern Lights

While I've never seen them in their full, spectacular glory, the opportunity to see a swirling green glow over the town has come up several times, something which is magical to this southerner. Sometimes you can see them in Stockholm, but with all that light pollution I'm not getting my hopes up!

Day 908: Stick your signalfel up your ASS

Are you hours and hours late for work, fun or getting home?

Do you have no idea at all how you're going to get there?

Are you utterly complacent about this, and will not attempt to make any change to the status of your shitty transport system through positive action or negative reaction?

Are you not even expecting the news to pick up on the hell of your, and thousands upon thousands of others' journey or the plight of hundreds upon hundreds of freight wagons over the course of a whole day, several days or even weeks?

You must be commuting in Sweden!

With this in mind, it's important that you learn my:

 

1. Obehöriga på Spårområdet (unauthorised person on the track)  

Ah yes, god bless this wonderful shitbag who has wondered about on the railways for fuck knows what reason. Whether they were stealing some copper wires, trying to kill themselves in a quiet, understated manner or just out for a fucking stroll somewhere they don't usually fucking stroll, god bless them. They really deserved that time they effectively stole from me just for being the wonderful, considerate human beings that they are.

 Annoyance factor: 

2. Elavbrott (Power Outage)

This is Sweden, an incredibly advanced western nation with a perfectly good electricity producing industry and no drops in service even during the winter when every man and his dog has all the lights on, three heaters and an oven. There is no way the railways are having a power cut. This is just code for "Sven fucked up the wiring".

Annoyance Factor:

3. Kraftiga förseningar (Heavy delays)

This isn't an explanation. We know there are delays, we've been standing in -10 for the last 40 minutes looking at a screen which has said that our train is one minute away. Fucking liars. I'm pretty sure this is actually code for "Expect a #4"

Annoyance factor:

4. Stopp i trafiken (Stop in service)

Here's what kraftiga förseningar really means. No trains are going anywhere. (Except sometimes the trains that cost more money than your shitty commuter train, they're fine.) They don't have a reason though.

Annoyance factor:

5. Signalfel (Signal problems)

I don't know who is in charge of the signals around here but they should be fired. Out of a cannon. Into the sun. There are signal problems so often I think that train drivers would be confused if the signals were signalling. They should just burn down the whole fucking signal rig, because the smoke would be more effective at actually signalling.

Annoyance factor: 

6. Omfattande (extensive)

Omfattande elfel, omfattande signalfel, omfattande whatever. Oh god you're really fucked if they wheel this one out. Just go to the pub and sleep there instead of trying to get home.

Annoyance factor:

7. Växelfel (Interchange Fault)

Just book a holiday and go to the beach. Last July there was a track interchange fault in the south station of Stockholm. No trains could go north or south for nearly 2 weeks. Fuck that shit.

Annoyance factor:

Day 887: Stuff I'd never own in England

Some people pointed out I haven't written anything here for a while, that's mostly because I've been stuffing food in my face for the past month and haven't had my hands free for any other activities. Last weekend I tried to be a bit more active to atone for my recent prone-ness so I went skating on a frozen lake, as you do, in temperatures of -16C, as you do.

Understandably you can't just get off the sofa and go on the lake. It turns out you have to own a bunch of crap that I didn't even know existed prior to this trip in order to have a safe skating experience. It got me thinking about a few other items that I use here that I either didn't use at all in England, or which never even entered into my realms of thinking.

Ice Picks

You need these to pull yourself out of the water if the ice you're skating on breaks under your feet. You also have to have a waterproof bag in your backpack with dry, spare clothes, which acts as a flotation device. I borrowed mine from a Swedish person when my Swedish boyfriend couldn't find any of his 3 pairs. I think I'm justified in believing that all Swedes own these things. In fact, knowing the safety consciousness of Swedes I'm surprised I don't see people just casually wondering around town wearing them.

Reflective Accessories

Sometimes when I'm out walking in the night in winter which lasts, well, a long time, I see people with these shiny things dangling from every crevice or a fucking great high vis jacket  or ALL of these things at the SAME TIME and I think "Ugh come on, is that really necessary? We're in TOWWWWWN. I can SEEEE YOOOOU." Other times I'm a passenger in a car at night and we turn a corner and nearly hit a person in a dark jacket, dark trousers and dark shoes and I think "Ugh come on, where is your necessary reflective thingamajiggy? We're in TOWWWWWWN in a CARRRRR. We need to SEEEEE YOOOOOU" which is why I decided to wear the two free reflective thingamajiggys I got given. Also I like it when people put colourful flashy things on their dog. But not high viz jacket dogs, that's too far.

Air Humidifier

I can't believe I own this. My house in England was so damp you could have swimming championships for small insects. But up here in Sweden I'm dry as a motherfucker and I'll take all the precious water droplets I can get/make artificially.

Ice Skates

If you want to go ice skating in England you have to find your nearest ice rink and they'll have some skates for you to hire. If you want to go ice skating in Sweden you just wait for it to get a bit cold, rummage in your closet for your skates and go outside to the nearest big puddle.

Skiing Gloves

I used to use a single pair of gloves, I would start wearing them from about 5 degrees and downwards and that was that. Gone are those days. Now I have 3 pairs, and when it starts getting below -5 it's time for the big guns, er, mittens. Ski mittens are amazing, they keep my hands toasty even when the rest of my body has turned into a solid block of ice. They're also waterproof for that all-important snowman building, snowball fighting and snow sledding.

Outdoor/Indoor Thermometer

How do you know what to wear in the morning? Maybe you watch the weather or something. Not me. I have in my house, just like many other Swedish houses, a thermometer to tell me exactly what temperature I'm heading into. This is vital because putting on thermal underwear at anything higher than -3 will let you in for an extremely warm and uncomfortable journey to work. It's such an important part of Swedish life that many old houses have a thermometer as part of the window frame. It's also good for knowing if you can use your balcony as a secondary fridge.

Waffle Iron

Okay I only use it on Waffle day but still, I never used it at all before I moved here.

Wtf...

Most Christmas decorations are the same; fairy lights, tree, baubles, advent calenders and so on. But then there are some other bits N bobs that are a bit odd, like the blob of grey felt that's supposed to be Santa, the superabundance of pig bric-a-brac, straw sheep everywhere and whatever the fuck that bollocks is in the picture up there. I'm assured it's "classic" and I can look forward to Easter when the little ladies are replaced with yellow chicks. In the Swedish style, the decorations we have here will probably stay up until Easter anyway.

Vaccum with adjustable suction

Why don't we all have this, everywhere, ever? Amazing.