Well, it's officially the end of my year as a teacher at IES. Yesterday our year 9's had their ceremony, and it was lovely. I only teach three of them in French, but know most of them pretty well, and it's so nice to celebrate nice groups of people.
I was the 'MC' for the year 6 and 7 ceremony. It was kept short and sweet, and I only made one slight joke, which no one caught anyways.
Today we had a final goodbye fika, and our councellor had everyone write notes to each other that described the person. She gave us all the cards with words about us according to our colleagues. Highlights from mine include: sporty, cool, determined, and Swedish. haha amazing.
It was sad to say goodbye to some, and quite a few of us are moving on from the school, but at the same time, I'm ready for the next mini chapter, I think. I do want to come back to visit, and hopefully keep in touch. The school is like the Little Engine. . . I won't be aa part of it, but I was there at the beginning, and I'm sure in some corner I've left some trash for them to find in August.
I had an interview today that almost made me throw up, and now I'm all packed for that Europe trip I keep alluding to. Yes, I will be coming home flat broke!!
Friday, June 10, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Belgi -ummm can I get some more waffles?
Just got back from spending six days in Brussels, Bruges, and Binche.
I can say that I definitely ate many-a chocolate waffle, drank some Belgian beers, saw some peeing mannequins (well, okay, one) and walked, walked, walked.
I found people to be so friendly, and many perked up when they heard my French (Canadian) accent. We even got some free cake out of it. ''Voilà les canadiens. . . ''
Now, there are exactly two days left of school. Two days left to organize my life. Two days to pack, pack and pack some more, and then whisk myself around Europe.
This is the most over-extended I've ever felt, and I doubt I'll catch my breath before August hits.
Anyways, I should probably go talk to some food about this.
The one sweet thing of my life is that I've left good-old Sjöbo behind, and am staying with a kompis who has a wonderful apartment, and normal person things: like a different room for a kitchen, bathroom, and living area.
Bah! Be home in about three weeks.
See you then, Ottawa friends!!!
I can say that I definitely ate many-a chocolate waffle, drank some Belgian beers, saw some peeing mannequins (well, okay, one) and walked, walked, walked.
I found people to be so friendly, and many perked up when they heard my French (Canadian) accent. We even got some free cake out of it. ''Voilà les canadiens. . . ''
Now, there are exactly two days left of school. Two days left to organize my life. Two days to pack, pack and pack some more, and then whisk myself around Europe.
This is the most over-extended I've ever felt, and I doubt I'll catch my breath before August hits.
Anyways, I should probably go talk to some food about this.
The one sweet thing of my life is that I've left good-old Sjöbo behind, and am staying with a kompis who has a wonderful apartment, and normal person things: like a different room for a kitchen, bathroom, and living area.
Bah! Be home in about three weeks.
See you then, Ottawa friends!!!
Saturday, May 28, 2011
It's The End of the Year, as we know it. . . .
. . . . and I feel fine.
Packing and moving day! Woah! (Note: not moving to Canada, but into a friend's apartment for a week and a bit until I head off to central/eastern Europe with Mish.)
So that's fun. . . . (inte). (Here is something of what my apt. looks like! Yikestown!)
In the process, I am giving, selling, donating (trying not to throw), eating, and fretting over all my temporary belongings.
I said to a friend at work yesterday, "Isn't it so weird that in a month and a bit, my current life won't exist anymore." Now, I realize this is the kid of pot-induced statement one might make while eating entire bags of potato chips, but this was at 13.00 at work. It is weird. I wonder what it does to you, completely uprooting, and shifting into a new 'path' of life. I did it when I moved here, but there is a difference this time.
When I moved here, I was alone. It was agiant step, and when I landed, I did not know a soul here. I took the bus from the airport with all my suitcases, barely knowing where to go.
I had so much time to write and think, and contemplate, and so much time to walk around alone.
This time, it’s a crazy whirlwind, as I previously alluded to. I’m stepping back into a life where there are always people (family included, I am not saying I am miss popularity 2011), things to do, places to work, responsibilities, fun engagements, shows, etc. Compared to my relative solitude here, when I get home, it’s a different pace of life.
Does one just snap back into old patterns of lifestyle? Of course it’s only been a year, and I surely have not dramatically changed in a year, and I know that my Sweden life,’ is not necessarily what I want out of life, hence part of the reason to return home.
Bah. Someone just tell me to shut up.
Otherwise, I’m already thinking of where I can go next. Living in a foreign place certainly has perks, ups and downs, exciting moments, and moments of WTF.
Students have now mostly heard through the grapevine that some teachers will not be back. Of course there are students I’ll miss, but I also think it’s good for the giant sentimentalist in me to not get too sappy about anything, because life goes on, and every connection with a person that changes you for the better is never lost.
I forget who said ‘I am a part of all that I have seen,’ or something like that, but it’s true. This ‘journey’ into Sweden was certainly not all roses and butterflies, (read: the absolute and total DARKNESS of the winter; people who snarl and stare; people who push innocent little Canadians) but it is a part of me, and I do not regret coming here. Would I ever come back? Sure, who knows? But very soon, I will close the door on this chapter, and immerse myself in the familiarity of home. Until I get bitten by the urge to throw myself into something new (which, knowing me, will not be very long!)
(Note: this blog is almost finished. I'll write about my upcoming trips, and maybe conclude with a few final thoughts. If you've read through the long-haul, you can collect your prize this summer. Congrats!)
P.S Here are some photos from the second IES camp I went to, in Karlstad.
We built rafts, and then paddled down the river for 4.5 hours.
We patrolled students as they tried to sneak around at night, and got to do zip lining courses. We also took a hike and saw a dead cow in a stream, and the decomposing carcase of a moose. Sick.)
And here is the photo of the dead cow. Sorry cow, I don't mean to disrespect your memory, but. . . here we are.
Packing and moving day! Woah! (Note: not moving to Canada, but into a friend's apartment for a week and a bit until I head off to central/eastern Europe with Mish.)
So that's fun. . . . (inte). (Here is something of what my apt. looks like! Yikestown!)
In the process, I am giving, selling, donating (trying not to throw), eating, and fretting over all my temporary belongings.
I said to a friend at work yesterday, "Isn't it so weird that in a month and a bit, my current life won't exist anymore." Now, I realize this is the kid of pot-induced statement one might make while eating entire bags of potato chips, but this was at 13.00 at work. It is weird. I wonder what it does to you, completely uprooting, and shifting into a new 'path' of life. I did it when I moved here, but there is a difference this time.
When I moved here, I was alone. It was agiant step, and when I landed, I did not know a soul here. I took the bus from the airport with all my suitcases, barely knowing where to go.
I had so much time to write and think, and contemplate, and so much time to walk around alone.
This time, it’s a crazy whirlwind, as I previously alluded to. I’m stepping back into a life where there are always people (family included, I am not saying I am miss popularity 2011), things to do, places to work, responsibilities, fun engagements, shows, etc. Compared to my relative solitude here, when I get home, it’s a different pace of life.
Does one just snap back into old patterns of lifestyle? Of course it’s only been a year, and I surely have not dramatically changed in a year, and I know that my Sweden life,’ is not necessarily what I want out of life, hence part of the reason to return home.
Bah. Someone just tell me to shut up.
Otherwise, I’m already thinking of where I can go next. Living in a foreign place certainly has perks, ups and downs, exciting moments, and moments of WTF.
Students have now mostly heard through the grapevine that some teachers will not be back. Of course there are students I’ll miss, but I also think it’s good for the giant sentimentalist in me to not get too sappy about anything, because life goes on, and every connection with a person that changes you for the better is never lost.
I forget who said ‘I am a part of all that I have seen,’ or something like that, but it’s true. This ‘journey’ into Sweden was certainly not all roses and butterflies, (read: the absolute and total DARKNESS of the winter; people who snarl and stare; people who push innocent little Canadians) but it is a part of me, and I do not regret coming here. Would I ever come back? Sure, who knows? But very soon, I will close the door on this chapter, and immerse myself in the familiarity of home. Until I get bitten by the urge to throw myself into something new (which, knowing me, will not be very long!)
(Note: this blog is almost finished. I'll write about my upcoming trips, and maybe conclude with a few final thoughts. If you've read through the long-haul, you can collect your prize this summer. Congrats!)
P.S Here are some photos from the second IES camp I went to, in Karlstad.
We built rafts, and then paddled down the river for 4.5 hours.
We patrolled students as they tried to sneak around at night, and got to do zip lining courses. We also took a hike and saw a dead cow in a stream, and the decomposing carcase of a moose. Sick.)
And here is the photo of the dead cow. Sorry cow, I don't mean to disrespect your memory, but. . . here we are.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Next Up: The Craziest Month of my Life
I got back from camp IES, a camp in Gävle, which is north of Stockholm. Above is one of the hot tubs we got to warm up in, instead of being at school.
It was great to experience the real beauty of Sweden, and to get to do something outside of the classroom with students from all over Sweden. They threw axes at trees, we did a high wire course, did team building activities that were not lame, did some rock-climbing, and I ate delicious veggie burgers. I even get to go again next week to a different camp in another supposedly beautiful part of Sweden.
There are less than three weeks of school left, and it's really starting to hit me how I am really packing up my life (literally) and will not be in this apartment forever. (so tears being shed over that).
There's new apartment waiting for me in Ottawa, so it's actually a new chapter, in another sense.
My next few weeks look a little something like this:
-week 21: three day camp (new location)
-week 22: move out of apartment
long weekend trip to Bruges and Brussels
farewell BBQ
week 23: last week of school, packing up office, and IES life
flight to Berlin, where I meet M.B and we visit Dresden, Prague, Munich, Vienna, Zagreb/Croatia, Budapest, back to Berlin, fly back to Sweden on June 30th, re-back my life, fly to Canada on the 2nd of July, move in to the new place, start camp the 4th go to multiple Bluesfest shows, turn 23, and accompany a friend to a wedding.
hahahah I know I can do it, because I enjoy life most when I'm busy, but I think my body and brain will be like, 'why are you doing this to us?'
I'm going to miss Sweden (no, really). I'll miss some people in Borås, but the town itself can kiss my Canadian ass.
I will also miss the godis, the beauty, and. . . . .being able to get bus tickets through text messages!
Here's a photo of the lake our camp was at:
Thursday, May 12, 2011
borås: where the sun is always shining????
In a month from now I will be in either Berlin or Dresden! A month after that, I will be back in Ottawa, in a new apartment.
I will be living at Bluesfest, working at a job I love (famous last words) and stuffing as much poutine as I can into this body.
Next week I'm going to a wilderness-leadership camp with students, which I'm so excited for. It's in the NORTH of Sweden, so. . . we'll see how that goes!
I also did a 21 km run-walk through the mountains of B-town last weekend. It was honestly the toughest physical activity I have EVER done, but the team I ran wish pushed each other in such a fun way. The best part was creatively 'bursting through' each km mark.
Today in Swedish class the teacher asked how long we were staying in Sweden for. She found out my answer and asked, 'Annnnd you're learning Swedish, why?'
I told her, 'Jag är en loser,' which is Swenglish at its finest. Full disclosure: I go for the social aspect. This is how bleak it's gotten.
It also stays bright out until about 10 here. It's so bright I sleep with a mask.
But enough about me. How are you? Did you have a satisfying yet nutritional meal tonight?
I have a sneaking fear that students might read this blog. . . . so I've included a tracker to see where the reads are coming from!
Brandon, I'm getting a lot of activity from Toronto.
Feminism!
I will be living at Bluesfest, working at a job I love (famous last words) and stuffing as much poutine as I can into this body.
Next week I'm going to a wilderness-leadership camp with students, which I'm so excited for. It's in the NORTH of Sweden, so. . . we'll see how that goes!
I also did a 21 km run-walk through the mountains of B-town last weekend. It was honestly the toughest physical activity I have EVER done, but the team I ran wish pushed each other in such a fun way. The best part was creatively 'bursting through' each km mark.
Today in Swedish class the teacher asked how long we were staying in Sweden for. She found out my answer and asked, 'Annnnd you're learning Swedish, why?'
I told her, 'Jag är en loser,' which is Swenglish at its finest. Full disclosure: I go for the social aspect. This is how bleak it's gotten.
It also stays bright out until about 10 here. It's so bright I sleep with a mask.
But enough about me. How are you? Did you have a satisfying yet nutritional meal tonight?
I have a sneaking fear that students might read this blog. . . . so I've included a tracker to see where the reads are coming from!
Brandon, I'm getting a lot of activity from Toronto.
Feminism!
Saturday, April 30, 2011
London Called
I'm not sure what I did to the weather Gods, but of the last twenty days of my life, only ONE day had rain. How amazing this is is not lost on me!
After my go-go gadget trip of constant sight-seeing and food consumption, I have returned to normal (read: sitting in my apartment staring at either my phone or my fridge.)
After a crazy Friday night (speaking to my mother for hours about our respective days at school and watching Finding Neverland) I am preparing for an equally crazy Saturday night. I will probably eat tacos, listen to Tina Fey read her audiobook (which I have already read) and perhaps knit my giant blue thing.
BUT one week ago, my life was not this ‘crazy.’ I was out in Edinburgh, sharing my dance moves and witty remarks with the people of Scotland. And watching the hockey game.
I really loved Britain. Such friendly people, delicious chips (fries), crisps (chips), and cherry coke were all consumed while there. They know how to please a lady.
Also, in kind of a hilarious turn of events, I leave Sweden only to enter my hostel room and find four half-naked male Swedes. They sort of say hello (barely) and I run to my top bunk to read Bridget Jones’ Diary and avoid eye-contact. After a few seconds, I put my Swedish to the test, and eavesdrop. Eventually, I decipher the word ‘flickan’ which means 'the girl.' Being that I am the only girl in the room, my Nancy Drew deduction skills lead me to the realisation that they have the balls to be talking about ME in Swedish, probably assuming I’m a uni-lingual American. The nerve!
(Actually, I am way more excited that my knowing some Swedish has actually proved useful outside of Sweden once in my life, so I’m not really that mad about the rudeness.)
I listen for the next 25 minutes. Eventually, they start debating over which one of them will ask me if it’s ok to turn off the lights. ‘You do it, Benny.’’ ‘No way, I don’t want to, you do it Anders.’’ ‘It’s Kalle’s turn!’ this goes on for three minutes. Finally, in a dramatic fashion, I put my book down and say, ‘Sure, you can turns the lights off. I’m done reading.’ Now, the looks on their faces are imprinted in my mind in the category of : fuck you, Swedes. They are speechless. I offer a concession: I live in Sweden, I tell them, and I understood you. Goodnight.
The next day, you better believe they were f-ing friendly. One even said, ‘So. . . you understood us?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘You know we were just joking when we were talking about you, right?’ ‘Oh. . . (deadpan) yeah.’
Anyways, they turned out to be decent. One of them works in Borås. We clearly bonded over our mutual hatred of it. I spoke to them in broken Swedish. They slept wearing essentially nothing.
When I had to leave at 4 am the next morning, you better believe I made a little more noise than I needed. Labrosse: 2. Swedes: 0
London was crazy with the Royal Wedding, but I ignored it as best I could. Sweden actually came up again over the trip. I was getting cheap tickets to a musical one night, and then man selling me the ticket at the ticketbooth looked at my credit card and said: ‘You don’t really sound Swedish.’ I explained I just lived there for now. He asked me how it was. A bit boring, I said. He agreed, saying he’d once been to a really small town, where there was one pub that stayed open till maybe 2. He went to support his football club. His team was playing Elsborg. He was in Borås. Boy did we have a laugh when I told him that’s where I live. I consider that man to be one of the best friends I’ve made this year.
In the interest of time (I know no one is still reading, anyways) I will just say that I absolutely loved Edinburgh. Such friendly and warm people, despite the cool climate.
Again, here are some photos of the goodtimes I had! I’ll be back, for sure.
Tower Bridge (Actually, I always thought this was London Bridge. Boy did I feel silly when I found out I was wrong)
Fantastic and incredibly moving play. I want to live this close to live theatre.
The ''globe''. Well, the closest I will ever get to the globe.
Needs no caption.
T.S Eliot's office! Part of the nerdy literary tour I joined! amazing!
Inside Churchill's Underground War Rooms. This was part of the map room. My dream is maps this large.
Fun fun fun musical!
Afternoon tea. How British. (and delicious)
Tourist photo! Also, notice the rain jacket. THIS was the rain day.
Edin at night!
The castle.
Dolly the sheep! Rotating!
The first part of Arthur's Seat. Believe you me, the other side is STEEP.
I'm king of the world! Yes, King.
Irnbru! The soft drink that outsells coke. . . in Edinburgh.
Loved it!
After my go-go gadget trip of constant sight-seeing and food consumption, I have returned to normal (read: sitting in my apartment staring at either my phone or my fridge.)
After a crazy Friday night (speaking to my mother for hours about our respective days at school and watching Finding Neverland) I am preparing for an equally crazy Saturday night. I will probably eat tacos, listen to Tina Fey read her audiobook (which I have already read) and perhaps knit my giant blue thing.
BUT one week ago, my life was not this ‘crazy.’ I was out in Edinburgh, sharing my dance moves and witty remarks with the people of Scotland. And watching the hockey game.
I really loved Britain. Such friendly people, delicious chips (fries), crisps (chips), and cherry coke were all consumed while there. They know how to please a lady.
Also, in kind of a hilarious turn of events, I leave Sweden only to enter my hostel room and find four half-naked male Swedes. They sort of say hello (barely) and I run to my top bunk to read Bridget Jones’ Diary and avoid eye-contact. After a few seconds, I put my Swedish to the test, and eavesdrop. Eventually, I decipher the word ‘flickan’ which means 'the girl.' Being that I am the only girl in the room, my Nancy Drew deduction skills lead me to the realisation that they have the balls to be talking about ME in Swedish, probably assuming I’m a uni-lingual American. The nerve!
(Actually, I am way more excited that my knowing some Swedish has actually proved useful outside of Sweden once in my life, so I’m not really that mad about the rudeness.)
I listen for the next 25 minutes. Eventually, they start debating over which one of them will ask me if it’s ok to turn off the lights. ‘You do it, Benny.’’ ‘No way, I don’t want to, you do it Anders.’’ ‘It’s Kalle’s turn!’ this goes on for three minutes. Finally, in a dramatic fashion, I put my book down and say, ‘Sure, you can turns the lights off. I’m done reading.’ Now, the looks on their faces are imprinted in my mind in the category of : fuck you, Swedes. They are speechless. I offer a concession: I live in Sweden, I tell them, and I understood you. Goodnight.
The next day, you better believe they were f-ing friendly. One even said, ‘So. . . you understood us?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘You know we were just joking when we were talking about you, right?’ ‘Oh. . . (deadpan) yeah.’
Anyways, they turned out to be decent. One of them works in Borås. We clearly bonded over our mutual hatred of it. I spoke to them in broken Swedish. They slept wearing essentially nothing.
When I had to leave at 4 am the next morning, you better believe I made a little more noise than I needed. Labrosse: 2. Swedes: 0
London was crazy with the Royal Wedding, but I ignored it as best I could. Sweden actually came up again over the trip. I was getting cheap tickets to a musical one night, and then man selling me the ticket at the ticketbooth looked at my credit card and said: ‘You don’t really sound Swedish.’ I explained I just lived there for now. He asked me how it was. A bit boring, I said. He agreed, saying he’d once been to a really small town, where there was one pub that stayed open till maybe 2. He went to support his football club. His team was playing Elsborg. He was in Borås. Boy did we have a laugh when I told him that’s where I live. I consider that man to be one of the best friends I’ve made this year.
In the interest of time (I know no one is still reading, anyways) I will just say that I absolutely loved Edinburgh. Such friendly and warm people, despite the cool climate.
Again, here are some photos of the goodtimes I had! I’ll be back, for sure.
Tower Bridge (Actually, I always thought this was London Bridge. Boy did I feel silly when I found out I was wrong)
Fantastic and incredibly moving play. I want to live this close to live theatre.
The ''globe''. Well, the closest I will ever get to the globe.
Needs no caption.
T.S Eliot's office! Part of the nerdy literary tour I joined! amazing!
Inside Churchill's Underground War Rooms. This was part of the map room. My dream is maps this large.
Fun fun fun musical!
Afternoon tea. How British. (and delicious)
Tourist photo! Also, notice the rain jacket. THIS was the rain day.
Edin at night!
The castle.
Dolly the sheep! Rotating!
The first part of Arthur's Seat. Believe you me, the other side is STEEP.
I'm king of the world! Yes, King.
Irnbru! The soft drink that outsells coke. . . in Edinburgh.
Loved it!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
''Home'' - photos de Paris
After what can only be described as an amazing eleven days, I embrace the ability to lie on my couch-bed for hours.
It was a fantastic trip, and for now, I will let a select few pictures and my ever-so-witty (not) comments do the talking. Highlights were the fries (chips) in the U.K, cadbury nutella, The Children's Hour (the best play I've ever seen), Montmartre, the Sewer museum (I was probably born as a sewer rat) and the weather. Well, I'm sure there was more. If Megan reads this, Scabby Nose was surely a plus.
I know, I know, I'm a lucky son of a bitch for getting to travel this much. But, I have possibly eaten my weight in food, so there's some poetic justice after all.
Bonjour Paris! Bonjour Arche de Triomphe! Salut Champs Élysées! I was a pro at getting strangers to take my photo for me. Downside: sometimes they contain other people in the photos. Sometimes they were just awful.
Roller-hockey players. . in Paris? One was clearly a Sens fan (the one wearing the Sens jersey). My Canadian pride wanted to put on roller blades and school them. Instead, I sneakily took a photo.
On top of Paris, sommet de la tour Eiffel. :) Another stranger photo! I'm outgoing now. (and yes, that is a Marché frais bag. Hot off the streets of Paris.)
Pour mon ami Brandon, who clearly belongs in Paris.
Les égouts! History of Paris's sewers, in the sewers. I really didn't mind the smell.
Me voici au Moulin Rouge. C'était mon film préféré pendant mon adolescence.
J'adore Montmarte. (Not pictured: the plastic grocery bad I carried for the duration of my trip. Later to be mocked.)
Amélie! Au restaurant!
Jim.
''. . . Wilde is on mine'' (Covered in kisses)
Street art in Paris. Artistic, deep, wonderful.
French puns! If you don't speak French, this is the moment you should be kicking yourself, as this is truly a kick-ass pun. This was a bookstore.
. . . and I think I'll post London and Edinburgh pictures later!
Except for this sweet one of me immediately after having climbed Arthur's Seat up the most indirect and dangerous route, only to later discover a much more reasonable path. As you can see by this photo, not many people make it to the top. . . . this is why I am so happy.
(winning)
It was a fantastic trip, and for now, I will let a select few pictures and my ever-so-witty (not) comments do the talking. Highlights were the fries (chips) in the U.K, cadbury nutella, The Children's Hour (the best play I've ever seen), Montmartre, the Sewer museum (I was probably born as a sewer rat) and the weather. Well, I'm sure there was more. If Megan reads this, Scabby Nose was surely a plus.
I know, I know, I'm a lucky son of a bitch for getting to travel this much. But, I have possibly eaten my weight in food, so there's some poetic justice after all.
Bonjour Paris! Bonjour Arche de Triomphe! Salut Champs Élysées! I was a pro at getting strangers to take my photo for me. Downside: sometimes they contain other people in the photos. Sometimes they were just awful.
Roller-hockey players. . in Paris? One was clearly a Sens fan (the one wearing the Sens jersey). My Canadian pride wanted to put on roller blades and school them. Instead, I sneakily took a photo.
On top of Paris, sommet de la tour Eiffel. :) Another stranger photo! I'm outgoing now. (and yes, that is a Marché frais bag. Hot off the streets of Paris.)
Pour mon ami Brandon, who clearly belongs in Paris.
Les égouts! History of Paris's sewers, in the sewers. I really didn't mind the smell.
Me voici au Moulin Rouge. C'était mon film préféré pendant mon adolescence.
J'adore Montmarte. (Not pictured: the plastic grocery bad I carried for the duration of my trip. Later to be mocked.)
Amélie! Au restaurant!
Jim.
''. . . Wilde is on mine'' (Covered in kisses)
Street art in Paris. Artistic, deep, wonderful.
French puns! If you don't speak French, this is the moment you should be kicking yourself, as this is truly a kick-ass pun. This was a bookstore.
. . . and I think I'll post London and Edinburgh pictures later!
Except for this sweet one of me immediately after having climbed Arthur's Seat up the most indirect and dangerous route, only to later discover a much more reasonable path. As you can see by this photo, not many people make it to the top. . . . this is why I am so happy.
(winning)
Friday, April 15, 2011
I'm off!
Borås - Göteborg - London- Paris -London - Glasgow - Edinburgh - Gothenburg - Borås
HAPPINESS
HAPPINESS
Saturday, April 9, 2011
The Beautiful Swedish Sky
There's only one thing I have to say: the colours of the sky in Sweden are incredible. At least thirty times this year I've looked up and thought: wow.
The blues and pinks and the way it fades from the horizon to the top of the sky. Pictures don't do it justice. It really is fantastic.
Thanks for that, Sweden.
The blues and pinks and the way it fades from the horizon to the top of the sky. Pictures don't do it justice. It really is fantastic.
Thanks for that, Sweden.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
I live in a garbage house
Det finns 6 skoldagar till jag ska åker till Stor Britanien för resan.
Loosely (very loosely) translated, that should say something about six more school days until I'll be in the U.K. My plan so far is to fly into London, and eventually end up in Edinburgh. I'm pretty excited, and it does feel surreal, because I've always wanted to see London and much else of the U.K, but I always put it off, maybe because I feel like I want to wait for that 'perfect moment.'
It's the same with Paris. I'm dying to go, but the timing is never perfect. It's always too short, too out of the way, or too something else. Maybe I'm afraid I've built it up too much, kind of like how I feel about the U.K. Essentially, taking English Lit at Ottawa U, almost everything we focused on has roots in the U.K. I want to see it all, everything I've read about. Clearly, in ten days, I'll have to settle for the Cliffs Notes version.
Nothing is less and more fun at the same time than marking essays from students who have other mother tongues other than English. The awkward phrases that come up keep it interesting.
In apartment news, I officially released my apartment, which means people are starting to come see it. Well, they WERE going to start today, apparently. I got a phone call from a woman who only spoke Swedish, and I had to explain that , no, she could not come today. I don't know how to say 'shit pit' or 'there is garbage in every imaginable corner' in Swedish, so I settled for, 'Come tomorrow, I must clean this night. Yes, tomorrow please.' Well, it probably sounded much worse.
Swedish lessons: thank you for teaching me the word clean, but not garbage.
Goodnight my three blog friends, good night.
Loosely (very loosely) translated, that should say something about six more school days until I'll be in the U.K. My plan so far is to fly into London, and eventually end up in Edinburgh. I'm pretty excited, and it does feel surreal, because I've always wanted to see London and much else of the U.K, but I always put it off, maybe because I feel like I want to wait for that 'perfect moment.'
It's the same with Paris. I'm dying to go, but the timing is never perfect. It's always too short, too out of the way, or too something else. Maybe I'm afraid I've built it up too much, kind of like how I feel about the U.K. Essentially, taking English Lit at Ottawa U, almost everything we focused on has roots in the U.K. I want to see it all, everything I've read about. Clearly, in ten days, I'll have to settle for the Cliffs Notes version.
Nothing is less and more fun at the same time than marking essays from students who have other mother tongues other than English. The awkward phrases that come up keep it interesting.
In apartment news, I officially released my apartment, which means people are starting to come see it. Well, they WERE going to start today, apparently. I got a phone call from a woman who only spoke Swedish, and I had to explain that , no, she could not come today. I don't know how to say 'shit pit' or 'there is garbage in every imaginable corner' in Swedish, so I settled for, 'Come tomorrow, I must clean this night. Yes, tomorrow please.' Well, it probably sounded much worse.
Swedish lessons: thank you for teaching me the word clean, but not garbage.
Goodnight my three blog friends, good night.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Snarl-City.
This is a post about snarling.
Today, walking home, the weather was amazing. The sun was out, and the mountains of Borås looked great. Spring is in the air. The snow is melting. Happiness is a few short rays of sun away. Naturally, there was a bit more skip in my step (read: I was actually walking without slouching.)
Now, you'd think being on the brink of Spring might bring out sunnier dispositions in the residents of Borås. No way, José.
People in Sweden are either shy, mean, or a bit of both. Not only do people not even awkwardly smile when they walk past you, they actually snarl. I frequently get snarled at simply for making eye contact with another human being.
It could be the lady I see every day at the bus stop, or someone else in the laundry room snarling. No friendly looks. No half-smiles. No acknowledgement that you are a human and not a robot. Snarls.
Another example happened today, as I was doing my laundry and stepped out for a moment to get some air. A person had been out on their balcony. The second they realized I was also outside, they retreated into their apartment, in a tiffy, almost angry at me for being in the same airspace.
This is something I will never forget and will not miss about Sweden. I'm not saying Canadians become best friends with everyone they see, but generally two joggers might extend a small smirk, or two solitary morning walkers will say a quick 'hey.'
Literally the second I arrived in Toronto, in an airport no less, strangers were conversing with me. Small talk. Acknowledgment. Life.
I will end by saying that there are the renegade Swedes. The few and far between who will come out of nowhere, shake your hand, and strike up a conversation. I am under the impression that they are the bane of the existence of other Swedes.
The phrase, ''Well, excuse ME for living'' often pops into my head after I get snarled at by grannies, teens, moms, and children alike.
Peace out Snarl-City.
Today, walking home, the weather was amazing. The sun was out, and the mountains of Borås looked great. Spring is in the air. The snow is melting. Happiness is a few short rays of sun away. Naturally, there was a bit more skip in my step (read: I was actually walking without slouching.)
Now, you'd think being on the brink of Spring might bring out sunnier dispositions in the residents of Borås. No way, José.
People in Sweden are either shy, mean, or a bit of both. Not only do people not even awkwardly smile when they walk past you, they actually snarl. I frequently get snarled at simply for making eye contact with another human being.
It could be the lady I see every day at the bus stop, or someone else in the laundry room snarling. No friendly looks. No half-smiles. No acknowledgement that you are a human and not a robot. Snarls.
Another example happened today, as I was doing my laundry and stepped out for a moment to get some air. A person had been out on their balcony. The second they realized I was also outside, they retreated into their apartment, in a tiffy, almost angry at me for being in the same airspace.
This is something I will never forget and will not miss about Sweden. I'm not saying Canadians become best friends with everyone they see, but generally two joggers might extend a small smirk, or two solitary morning walkers will say a quick 'hey.'
Literally the second I arrived in Toronto, in an airport no less, strangers were conversing with me. Small talk. Acknowledgment. Life.
I will end by saying that there are the renegade Swedes. The few and far between who will come out of nowhere, shake your hand, and strike up a conversation. I am under the impression that they are the bane of the existence of other Swedes.
The phrase, ''Well, excuse ME for living'' often pops into my head after I get snarled at by grannies, teens, moms, and children alike.
Peace out Snarl-City.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Waffle Day /Baffle Day
Today was Waffle Day in Sweden.
Now, I know what you're thinking:' Any country that dedicates a day to waffles can't be half bad,' but, you're wrong.
Anyways, so we had waffles at school (only the teachers: so evil) and I was so excited that I did not use a plate, and spilled whip cream on my maternity pants three times.
No, I am not even remotely pregnant, I just mistook the stretchy band on my pants for the newest fashion statement of 2011 when trying them on. I didn't even know they were maternity pants till I showed off the new style to two colleagues, who laughed at my naiveté and complete lack of fashion knowledge. However, the benefits of maternity pants cannot be overstated, and needless to say, they came in handy on waffle day. I now own several maternity items.
So, Happy Waffle Day, Sweden. Thanks for making today significantly better than most.
Also, 11 weeks. 11 weeks.
Now, I know what you're thinking:' Any country that dedicates a day to waffles can't be half bad,' but, you're wrong.
Anyways, so we had waffles at school (only the teachers: so evil) and I was so excited that I did not use a plate, and spilled whip cream on my maternity pants three times.
No, I am not even remotely pregnant, I just mistook the stretchy band on my pants for the newest fashion statement of 2011 when trying them on. I didn't even know they were maternity pants till I showed off the new style to two colleagues, who laughed at my naiveté and complete lack of fashion knowledge. However, the benefits of maternity pants cannot be overstated, and needless to say, they came in handy on waffle day. I now own several maternity items.
So, Happy Waffle Day, Sweden. Thanks for making today significantly better than most.
Also, 11 weeks. 11 weeks.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Friday Night. . . Tacos?
Fredagsmys :
It’s about time I write about ‘fredagmys’ one of the weirdest traditions they have in Sweden, in my humble opinion.
Fredag is Friday. So there’s the first part. The second part, I’m told, translates roughly to ‘cosiness at home,’ but perhaps someone was messing with me.
So, ‘fredagsmys’ consists of staying in on a Friday night with family, cozying up in front of the t.v (I think watching Idol), eating treats, and eating the Swedish delicacy known the world over as: tacos. Yes, tacos.
Now, upon hearing this, I clearly laughed out loud, and then had a million questions. 'Why tacos?' 'Aren't tacos not even Swedish?' 'When did this begin?' 'Does everyone do this?' 'But seriously, why tacos?'
Not exactly a million questions, but I still find that no one has been able to answer the ever-so-pertinent question of : 'But seriously, why tacos?'
On Fridays when I ask my students, ‘How many of you are having tacos for dinner?’ at least half the class raises their hand. It’s no joke. It’s an ingrained tradition. I call it Friday Night Tacos, and because I love tacos, I often have my own Friday Night Tacos, however there is no cosiness involved.
There are even songs and commercials dedicated to ‘fredagsmys.’ Click the links to see for yourselves.
Commercial 1:
Commercial 2 :
And click hear to watch a very excited Swedish man explain Fredagsmys to you
In the above video, the excited man has at least 5 of these types of videos. He always goes up to people, and the videos culminate with them dancing with him. Pretty strange. He also always just switches between Swedish and English. I wish more people here were as fun as he is.
My next post will be about ‘lördagsgodis’ which means ‘Saturday Morning Treats/Goodies.’ Yes, you would think that I would find eternal happiness in a country that has TWO days dedicated to eating junk!
Last, but not least, the Super Moon last night was pretty incredible. My life revolves around the moon.
Twelve weeks of school left! (but who’s counting?)
P.S If any Swedes read this, please know that I'm not trying to insult/make fun of your country. I am providing observations for friends and family back home! :)
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The name of this post is the Talking Heads
’’I wouldn’t live here if you paid me.’’ Oh Talking Heads, how did you know to write this song about my current life situation?
I think I will only bother to write here if I actually leave Borås-, otherwise it feels self-indulgent, and besides, there are only so many ways to say: ‘I can’t wait to be home.’
In two weeks I’ll be going up to Oslo. I’ve wanted to go to Norway since I got here, so that’s something, right?
The sun also seems to be following a sort of pathetic fallacy based on my mood. Hoorah. (sarcasm alert)
Happy March Break if you’re off in Canada.
Oh, and actually, the best thing to happen to me in a long time (yes, this speaks volumes) is that I received Humpty Dumpty BBQ chips in the mail, along with turtles, dinosours, chews, and other assortments of my favourite Canadian/North American candy. MMMM. Daniel, you’re a star.
I’ll be fine, I’m really starting to run a lot, and that’s so good for the soul, and obviously I'm popping corn like there's no tomorrow.
I think I will only bother to write here if I actually leave Borås-, otherwise it feels self-indulgent, and besides, there are only so many ways to say: ‘I can’t wait to be home.’
In two weeks I’ll be going up to Oslo. I’ve wanted to go to Norway since I got here, so that’s something, right?
The sun also seems to be following a sort of pathetic fallacy based on my mood. Hoorah. (sarcasm alert)
Happy March Break if you’re off in Canada.
Oh, and actually, the best thing to happen to me in a long time (yes, this speaks volumes) is that I received Humpty Dumpty BBQ chips in the mail, along with turtles, dinosours, chews, and other assortments of my favourite Canadian/North American candy. MMMM. Daniel, you’re a star.
I’ll be fine, I’m really starting to run a lot, and that’s so good for the soul, and obviously I'm popping corn like there's no tomorrow.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Homeward bound
Well, about three months left of the school year, then off to Eastern Europe for 3 ish weeks, and then home. Hej då Sverige. Hello life.
It's official, in every sense of the word.
In my last few months, I will try to be positive (TRY), eat as many goodies as I can, travel as much as I can, and try not to let the downers of Borås drag me too far down with their pushing and shoving, and general sour pussness.
Also, lamely, I will be in Sweden for Canada day. My plane leaves for Ottawa July 2nd.
I miss my records a little bit too much.
Summer of love, here I come. More importantly, Luskville and Paddle Tennis weekend, here I come. Friends and family here I come. Multiple food dates with my future wife: here I come.
It's official, in every sense of the word.
In my last few months, I will try to be positive (TRY), eat as many goodies as I can, travel as much as I can, and try not to let the downers of Borås drag me too far down with their pushing and shoving, and general sour pussness.
Also, lamely, I will be in Sweden for Canada day. My plane leaves for Ottawa July 2nd.
I miss my records a little bit too much.
Summer of love, here I come. More importantly, Luskville and Paddle Tennis weekend, here I come. Friends and family here I come. Multiple food dates with my future wife: here I come.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
A pause- Conflict Minerals
We think and hear a lot about fair trade, and the conditions under which our clothing is made, and our food is brought to us (well, some do), and yet another pertinent issue that tends to be less at the forefront is the issue of Congo’s conflict minerals.
You may have seen the film ‘Blood Diamond,’ and are now recalling the phrase ‘conflict diamonds.’ Conflict minerals are essentially the same. A quick internet search allows one to discover that conflict minerals used in our electronics are mined in a conflicting manner, hence the name, and are mine in a way that violates human rights.
Time magazine online published a story entitled, ‘’First Blood Diamonds, Now Blood Computers?,’’ in which author Elisabeth Dias informs the public about this issue. She is better versed and has better verse than I do, so you can read the article here: http://www.webcitation.org/5v1B1lxV6 . There are countless articles about the issue throughout the internet.
This is not breaking news, by any means. Organizations and groups have been working for years trying to raise awareness. Change is slow, but that doesn’t mean it’s non-existent. The organisation ‘Raise Hope for Congo’ published an extremely user-friendly overview of which companies are actually working towards using conflict-free minerals. There are none yet who provide entirely conflict-free products, but, according to ‘Raise Hope’s’ findings, companies such as ‘Dell,’ ‘HP,’ and ‘Motorola,’ are “on the right track.” You can visit their website and see all of this for yourself, here: http://www.raisehopeforcongo.org/content/conflict-minerals-company-rankings?tier=4#list
Now, I know in the face of all the shit (pardon my language) in the world today, it’s so much easier to tune it all out. Caring about things that may seem so far removed from our daily lives takes a lot of energy, and we’re tired, and have other problems. I’m not saying that overnight we can all stop buying computers and cell phones, and that’s not the point. Personally, I don’t think it’s too much to ask that we have transparency and a clear view into the things we buy, and we realize that we are part of the problem if we all collectively turn a blind eye to horrors committed in the name of saving money.
I believe that some of us in this world are lucky enough to come from places where we have voices, both with the right and privilege to speak out, and with our purchases. Just like with fair trade, if a consumer demands that a product meet certain ethical standards, and enough consumers share this demand, companies look into alternatives.
Basically, information empowers us. So read up on conflict minerals. The conditions under which these minerals come into the hands of companies are appalling. Follow the links to see if you can lend your voice to an important cause. It’s about empathy, and about doing what we can for those who are powerless.
Also, if you didn’t feel like reading, here is a youtube clip.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aF-sJgcoY20
You may have seen the film ‘Blood Diamond,’ and are now recalling the phrase ‘conflict diamonds.’ Conflict minerals are essentially the same. A quick internet search allows one to discover that conflict minerals used in our electronics are mined in a conflicting manner, hence the name, and are mine in a way that violates human rights.
Time magazine online published a story entitled, ‘’First Blood Diamonds, Now Blood Computers?,’’ in which author Elisabeth Dias informs the public about this issue. She is better versed and has better verse than I do, so you can read the article here: http://www.webcitation.org/5v1B1lxV6 . There are countless articles about the issue throughout the internet.
This is not breaking news, by any means. Organizations and groups have been working for years trying to raise awareness. Change is slow, but that doesn’t mean it’s non-existent. The organisation ‘Raise Hope for Congo’ published an extremely user-friendly overview of which companies are actually working towards using conflict-free minerals. There are none yet who provide entirely conflict-free products, but, according to ‘Raise Hope’s’ findings, companies such as ‘Dell,’ ‘HP,’ and ‘Motorola,’ are “on the right track.” You can visit their website and see all of this for yourself, here: http://www.raisehopeforcongo.org/content/conflict-minerals-company-rankings?tier=4#list
Now, I know in the face of all the shit (pardon my language) in the world today, it’s so much easier to tune it all out. Caring about things that may seem so far removed from our daily lives takes a lot of energy, and we’re tired, and have other problems. I’m not saying that overnight we can all stop buying computers and cell phones, and that’s not the point. Personally, I don’t think it’s too much to ask that we have transparency and a clear view into the things we buy, and we realize that we are part of the problem if we all collectively turn a blind eye to horrors committed in the name of saving money.
I believe that some of us in this world are lucky enough to come from places where we have voices, both with the right and privilege to speak out, and with our purchases. Just like with fair trade, if a consumer demands that a product meet certain ethical standards, and enough consumers share this demand, companies look into alternatives.
Basically, information empowers us. So read up on conflict minerals. The conditions under which these minerals come into the hands of companies are appalling. Follow the links to see if you can lend your voice to an important cause. It’s about empathy, and about doing what we can for those who are powerless.
Also, if you didn’t feel like reading, here is a youtube clip.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aF-sJgcoY20
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Escape to Italia - photos
For family/friends (Mishy) who don't have the timewaster also known as bookface,
here is the link to the photos I have posted.
https://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2359346&id=121501242&l=36d79bb547
If you re-paste that in a new window, it SHOULD show you some of the photos, which include:
me with food
me in the sun
me with food and in the sun.
Only around 8 more weeks till the next vacay!
here is the link to the photos I have posted.
https://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2359346&id=121501242&l=36d79bb547
If you re-paste that in a new window, it SHOULD show you some of the photos, which include:
me with food
me in the sun
me with food and in the sun.
Only around 8 more weeks till the next vacay!
Friday, February 25, 2011
Back in Black(ness)
Dear loyal followers in Canada, the U.S, and the world over,
after a week travelling around Italy, we have returned to Borås.
The week was spent meeting new people, seeing beautiful things, sleeping on buses, eating delicious things, and remembering that I am, after all, only twenty three years old, and my heart is in travelling.
In the upcoming months I'll try to hit Copenhagen, Oslo, Belgium, fucking Bruges, Paris, much of the U.K, and central/southern/whatever it's classified Europe (Prague, Dresden, Munich, Budapest? etc etc). Eyes on the prize.
Also, it's a great possibility that I can make it home for Bluesfest, which would keep the streak alive and well.
In other news, something delicious in Sweden keeping me going is Risifrutti. It is tapioca pudding with a side compartment for different flavours of jam. I work tirelessly to never exceed one per day, which sometimes feels like an insurmountable feat, let me tell you.
Aussi, je regarde le film Amélie! Comment j'ai passé tout ce temps sans l'avoir vu, je n'ai aucune idée! Mais, c'est fantastique, et c'est bien aussi car j'essaye d'améliorer mon francais. (French pun, what what).
Ok, c'est tout pour maintenant.
Salut
after a week travelling around Italy, we have returned to Borås.
The week was spent meeting new people, seeing beautiful things, sleeping on buses, eating delicious things, and remembering that I am, after all, only twenty three years old, and my heart is in travelling.
In the upcoming months I'll try to hit Copenhagen, Oslo, Belgium, fucking Bruges, Paris, much of the U.K, and central/southern/whatever it's classified Europe (Prague, Dresden, Munich, Budapest? etc etc). Eyes on the prize.
Also, it's a great possibility that I can make it home for Bluesfest, which would keep the streak alive and well.
In other news, something delicious in Sweden keeping me going is Risifrutti. It is tapioca pudding with a side compartment for different flavours of jam. I work tirelessly to never exceed one per day, which sometimes feels like an insurmountable feat, let me tell you.
Aussi, je regarde le film Amélie! Comment j'ai passé tout ce temps sans l'avoir vu, je n'ai aucune idée! Mais, c'est fantastique, et c'est bien aussi car j'essaye d'améliorer mon francais. (French pun, what what).
Ok, c'est tout pour maintenant.
Salut
Friday, February 11, 2011
Derailed On the Edge of Italia
Break time! Five short weeks after going back to school, we get a break. I am definitely not complaining.
I'll be headed down to Sicily and wherever else the wind takes me/us. Nothing booked beyond the first night, which means the expectations are unknown.
Today there was a small epiphany moment at school. What I love about teaching is that you get to interact with so many people everyday. Speaking to students from all over the world is by far one of my favorites things about being at the school I am. Kids who are twelve have incredible life stories and such unique perspectives on life. A far cry from only knowing the country of Carp.
Anyways, the epiphany moment came when I was speaking to some students in grade nine I don't teach. They were asking me about Canada and French, and then one of the girls looks at me and says, 'So, why are you a French teacher?' Then I paused for a second, and asked her what she meant. She continued, 'You know, was it always your dream job to be teaching French?'
There are a few reasons why this is still sticking out in my brain. First, it was probably the last thing I expected to be asked. Second, I obviously didn't have any semblance of a satisfying answer. I mean, of course I didn't dream of it, but I said that I shifted the conversation to teaching English. I do love English and teaching English because I love people and communication. That's part of the truth. English is just so objective. Reading a book or a poem or seeing an image is never the same for two people. Taking something from inside you and putting it out into the world in an attempt to connect, or share, or preserve. . . is life, as far as I'm concerned. Is it my dream job? Well, no.
Anyways, this is just rambling. I'm probably catching the sickness that's been passing through our school. Basically, what I do love about teaching is that there is an x factor. You can't predict a day at school, and young people should never be underestimated. They always have the ability completely stop you in your tracks, and derail you for a moment.
I'll be headed down to Sicily and wherever else the wind takes me/us. Nothing booked beyond the first night, which means the expectations are unknown.
Today there was a small epiphany moment at school. What I love about teaching is that you get to interact with so many people everyday. Speaking to students from all over the world is by far one of my favorites things about being at the school I am. Kids who are twelve have incredible life stories and such unique perspectives on life. A far cry from only knowing the country of Carp.
Anyways, the epiphany moment came when I was speaking to some students in grade nine I don't teach. They were asking me about Canada and French, and then one of the girls looks at me and says, 'So, why are you a French teacher?' Then I paused for a second, and asked her what she meant. She continued, 'You know, was it always your dream job to be teaching French?'
There are a few reasons why this is still sticking out in my brain. First, it was probably the last thing I expected to be asked. Second, I obviously didn't have any semblance of a satisfying answer. I mean, of course I didn't dream of it, but I said that I shifted the conversation to teaching English. I do love English and teaching English because I love people and communication. That's part of the truth. English is just so objective. Reading a book or a poem or seeing an image is never the same for two people. Taking something from inside you and putting it out into the world in an attempt to connect, or share, or preserve. . . is life, as far as I'm concerned. Is it my dream job? Well, no.
Anyways, this is just rambling. I'm probably catching the sickness that's been passing through our school. Basically, what I do love about teaching is that there is an x factor. You can't predict a day at school, and young people should never be underestimated. They always have the ability completely stop you in your tracks, and derail you for a moment.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Beautiful Swedes
How many people can say they've been a room of a seventy ish people and known for a fact that every other person is without argument more attractive? It really is worth a try!
I think I can firmly say that Swedish people are just made of superior physical genes:
blonde, tall, stylish, tall, blonde. Okay, they aren't all blonde, but MANY are still tall, or at least attractive.
The stereotype, although not 100% accurate, is pretty damn close to being true, at least in Borås.
Sometimes I look around at my dwarfish self and laugh. Unreal!
Take me back to ugly Canada, please, where the people are friendly and significantly less movie-star esque!
I think I can firmly say that Swedish people are just made of superior physical genes:
blonde, tall, stylish, tall, blonde. Okay, they aren't all blonde, but MANY are still tall, or at least attractive.
The stereotype, although not 100% accurate, is pretty damn close to being true, at least in Borås.
Sometimes I look around at my dwarfish self and laugh. Unreal!
Take me back to ugly Canada, please, where the people are friendly and significantly less movie-star esque!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
All's Quiet on the Western Front
"It's Always Sunny in Borås" could very well be the name of the new reality based T.V program centered around my life. In the past two weeks, there have been AT LEAST six sunny days! Also, fans of the show will note that my apartment is as live-able as Frank and Charlie's! I did clean a little last weekend, and will perhaps do a bit today. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Well, our staff headed to Stockholm for an 'All Staff' day. Stockholm's sweet.
Next weekend is a big one! A friend and I are going to see Iron + Wine in Gothenburg Friday night, and I\m staying for the Gothenburg International Film Festival on Saturday. I'm seeing a documentary first, and then Blue Valentine with Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams. The GIFF is apparently the biggest in Scandinavia (whatever that means) and being the movie-lover that I am, I'm quite excited.
The weekend after that, it's 'Sportslov,' which translates to 'Sport Break' I think. It's a week off we get to do sports. No, really. Another friend and I are heading to Trapani, Sicilly for a week! It's about 15 degrees right now, and I bet it's always sunny there, also. We're going to try and leave Sicilly for a bit and get up to Venice or Florence, or other Italian cities. I'd definitely go back to Rome. The only sport I'll be taking part in is the sport of over-consumption. Oh, Italian food, I am coming! Gnocchi, and pizza, and wine, oh my!
So, that's about it. Two weeks of school, and then: Italian Relaxation Vacation. Not too shabby at all.
Det här är ett fotto att Trapani. (I didn't google translate that,so it may have been butchered!)
Well, our staff headed to Stockholm for an 'All Staff' day. Stockholm's sweet.
Next weekend is a big one! A friend and I are going to see Iron + Wine in Gothenburg Friday night, and I\m staying for the Gothenburg International Film Festival on Saturday. I'm seeing a documentary first, and then Blue Valentine with Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams. The GIFF is apparently the biggest in Scandinavia (whatever that means) and being the movie-lover that I am, I'm quite excited.
The weekend after that, it's 'Sportslov,' which translates to 'Sport Break' I think. It's a week off we get to do sports. No, really. Another friend and I are heading to Trapani, Sicilly for a week! It's about 15 degrees right now, and I bet it's always sunny there, also. We're going to try and leave Sicilly for a bit and get up to Venice or Florence, or other Italian cities. I'd definitely go back to Rome. The only sport I'll be taking part in is the sport of over-consumption. Oh, Italian food, I am coming! Gnocchi, and pizza, and wine, oh my!
So, that's about it. Two weeks of school, and then: Italian Relaxation Vacation. Not too shabby at all.
Det här är ett fotto att Trapani. (I didn't google translate that,so it may have been butchered!)
Thursday, January 20, 2011
S.F.I
Swedish for Immigrants!
Such a blunt name. I wonder if we have the equivalent in Canada? English/Francais for/pour immigrants. Obviously it would have to be in both official languages, n'est-ce-pas? Anyways, it is so strange to be in a class full of adults from all over the world. The nerd inside me wants to be tested. Cool it, nerdlington, all in good time. Thankfully, I'm not in this course alone. There are five international teachers, and thankfully I only cracked up laughing once, silently. I am the biggest teacher hypocrite, for sure. As soon as we got our books, I raced to complete as many pages as possible, as quickly as possible. Nerd!
Mais, not much else to report. I have both bags of BBQ chips lying empty near by bed, which is a fatal mistake. Every time I see the orange and white goodness, I pine for the crisp taste of Humpty Dumpty. I did eat some delicious indian popcorn today, whatever that means, but it was no H.D.
Oh! I am going to Sicilly in about three weeks for our Sport break. Yes, sport break. A break created to allow children to enjoy sports, I believe. Will I be sporting? Well, I will be sporting a bathing suit by the Mediterranean sea. . . . yes, it's pretty amazing to be able to take off to Italy for a week, I know.
And that's all. What an enthralling life I lead, here in the darkness. . . .
Such a blunt name. I wonder if we have the equivalent in Canada? English/Francais for/pour immigrants. Obviously it would have to be in both official languages, n'est-ce-pas? Anyways, it is so strange to be in a class full of adults from all over the world. The nerd inside me wants to be tested. Cool it, nerdlington, all in good time. Thankfully, I'm not in this course alone. There are five international teachers, and thankfully I only cracked up laughing once, silently. I am the biggest teacher hypocrite, for sure. As soon as we got our books, I raced to complete as many pages as possible, as quickly as possible. Nerd!
Mais, not much else to report. I have both bags of BBQ chips lying empty near by bed, which is a fatal mistake. Every time I see the orange and white goodness, I pine for the crisp taste of Humpty Dumpty. I did eat some delicious indian popcorn today, whatever that means, but it was no H.D.
Oh! I am going to Sicilly in about three weeks for our Sport break. Yes, sport break. A break created to allow children to enjoy sports, I believe. Will I be sporting? Well, I will be sporting a bathing suit by the Mediterranean sea. . . . yes, it's pretty amazing to be able to take off to Italy for a week, I know.
And that's all. What an enthralling life I lead, here in the darkness. . . .
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Swedish discovery #1: Fika
Fika
If you type the word ’fika’ into a translating program, the first entry that pops up is ’coffee,’ but that doesn’t really do it justice. Fika is more than coffee, it is lifestyle.
The subsequent entry for fika is ’hanker’ the verb, which is defined as ‘to have a restless or incessant longing (often fol. by after, for, or an infinitive)’ on dictionary.com. ‘Hanker’ is often used in film or tv shows, semi-comically, when someone professes a ‘hankering for a spankering,’ or, ‘a hankering for some ice cream.’
I suppose my understanding of fika lies somewhere in between those two definitions. More than just coffee, fika is an incessant longing to re-energize oneself in the company of good food, good friends, and of course, good coffee. Swedes attempt to fulfil this longing daily.
Having been in Sweden for a little over five months, I am still discovering new complexities and rules about fika. For instance, I mistakenly held the belief that fika was enjoyed once a day. Boy, was I wrong. Typically, and now I am no expert, there is first and foremost morning fika, which occurs around 10 or 11 o’clock, depending on your work and wake-up schedule.
Follow this up with the 3 o’clock fika, where that jolt of sugar and caffeine will propel you to undertake the rest of your day with a little extra ‘pizzazz,’ perhaps.
And how could I forget after-dinner fika? Now, I had good reason for not knowing about this fika until recently. My night-time rituals leave much to be desired. Dinner for one, followed by The Daily Show and Colbert Report, a little bit of reading, and bed. No coffee. No company. No after-dinner fika.
It would be preposterous to think of people who fit in more than three fikas per day, but I image it’s been done.
I can’t seem to remember when I first was introduced to the term fika. In English, it does have a bit of a strange ring to it, but then again, so do many words. I image a colleague said something about fika, to which us non-Swedes must have replied something along the lines of, ‘fika what?’
Initially, one draws comparisons to our North American watered down version: the coffee break. Fika is not a coffee break.
A coffee break, as I know it, consists of sitting down with a cup of coffee, perhaps with a coworker, for oh, five or ten minutes. I myself have never actually been on one of these coffee breaks, although I am sure they exist. Again, as far as I know, a coffee break does not center around a delicious spread of pastries and sweets, but of course those do exist in Canada. I suppose fika is comparable to meeting up with friends for coffee. They seem deceptively similar, although they are not the same thing.
Fika is something of a cultural right. Grown men and women alike have fika. Teenagers have fika. Girls and boys have fika. There are cafés everywhere devoted to fika. During certain rooms, no seats are available due to the large number of people enjoying fika. People take fika at work, at home, in town. I wonder if there is a place where fika is not ‘taken.’
The use of the verb ‘to take’ may seem odd at first. Perhaps it’s an inaccurate translation from Swedish to English. The more appropriate verb is certainly ‘to have,’ or even ‘to get.’ ‘Would you like to have fika with me?’ one could ask, although it would kind of be a rhetorical question. Are you Swedish? Then you take fika. ‘Let’s go take a fika,’ I often hear. Or, ‘we’re going to take fika now.’
So as I’ve spent the above paragraphs dancing around what fika actually is, I will now attempt to flesh it out a little. The first part of fika is the beverage. One is not limited to coffee, as there is an array of other delicious temptations. Hot chocolate served in a 20oz mug, topped with cream and chocolate, cappuncinos, lates, cola drinks, water, . . . all are present in a typical fika place.
And. . . the treats. Man, are there treats. The amount of goodies in any given fika place puts the standard 10 items at Starbucks to shave. There is ‘semla’ a bread-type pastries with with almond pasta and cream, ‘princess cake’ which is a kind of marzipan encrusted pastry, frog pastries, cookies, cinnamon buns, sandwiches with shrimp, salads with shrimp, cheese, sandwiches with egg, and I’m sure I’m missing many others. Do people really eat these sweets? I can answer with a resounding YES! As a self-professed sweet tooth, I can safely say that here, my craving for sweets is modest at best. Although I cannot generalize, Swedes seem to have unbelievable cravings for baked goods, regardless of who they are.
Simply put, fika is great. How can you not love a tradition that allows people to stop what they are doing, sit down, and catch-up with family and friends. Workaholics may not hold this same opinion, but fika is sweet, no pun intended. It’s like stopping for coffee at grandma’s house, you make time for it, not because you must, but because it’s a part of who you are, of who we are as humans. It’s a pause in the time to appreciate each other, and show that by spending time together. Don’t get me wrong, I am not in the daily fika club. I cannot indulge in pastries that often, knowing that although they are filled with goodness, they are also filled with far too many calories. (As a side note, surprisingly, people are NOT generally fat or large in Sweden. It will take me another five months here to figure that one out).
So, there you go: an amateur attempt to de-mystify and explain a little bit about fika. Pictures will be included to do what my words cannot!
If you type the word ’fika’ into a translating program, the first entry that pops up is ’coffee,’ but that doesn’t really do it justice. Fika is more than coffee, it is lifestyle.
The subsequent entry for fika is ’hanker’ the verb, which is defined as ‘to have a restless or incessant longing (often fol. by after, for, or an infinitive)’ on dictionary.com. ‘Hanker’ is often used in film or tv shows, semi-comically, when someone professes a ‘hankering for a spankering,’ or, ‘a hankering for some ice cream.’
I suppose my understanding of fika lies somewhere in between those two definitions. More than just coffee, fika is an incessant longing to re-energize oneself in the company of good food, good friends, and of course, good coffee. Swedes attempt to fulfil this longing daily.
Having been in Sweden for a little over five months, I am still discovering new complexities and rules about fika. For instance, I mistakenly held the belief that fika was enjoyed once a day. Boy, was I wrong. Typically, and now I am no expert, there is first and foremost morning fika, which occurs around 10 or 11 o’clock, depending on your work and wake-up schedule.
Follow this up with the 3 o’clock fika, where that jolt of sugar and caffeine will propel you to undertake the rest of your day with a little extra ‘pizzazz,’ perhaps.
And how could I forget after-dinner fika? Now, I had good reason for not knowing about this fika until recently. My night-time rituals leave much to be desired. Dinner for one, followed by The Daily Show and Colbert Report, a little bit of reading, and bed. No coffee. No company. No after-dinner fika.
It would be preposterous to think of people who fit in more than three fikas per day, but I image it’s been done.
I can’t seem to remember when I first was introduced to the term fika. In English, it does have a bit of a strange ring to it, but then again, so do many words. I image a colleague said something about fika, to which us non-Swedes must have replied something along the lines of, ‘fika what?’
Initially, one draws comparisons to our North American watered down version: the coffee break. Fika is not a coffee break.
A coffee break, as I know it, consists of sitting down with a cup of coffee, perhaps with a coworker, for oh, five or ten minutes. I myself have never actually been on one of these coffee breaks, although I am sure they exist. Again, as far as I know, a coffee break does not center around a delicious spread of pastries and sweets, but of course those do exist in Canada. I suppose fika is comparable to meeting up with friends for coffee. They seem deceptively similar, although they are not the same thing.
Fika is something of a cultural right. Grown men and women alike have fika. Teenagers have fika. Girls and boys have fika. There are cafés everywhere devoted to fika. During certain rooms, no seats are available due to the large number of people enjoying fika. People take fika at work, at home, in town. I wonder if there is a place where fika is not ‘taken.’
The use of the verb ‘to take’ may seem odd at first. Perhaps it’s an inaccurate translation from Swedish to English. The more appropriate verb is certainly ‘to have,’ or even ‘to get.’ ‘Would you like to have fika with me?’ one could ask, although it would kind of be a rhetorical question. Are you Swedish? Then you take fika. ‘Let’s go take a fika,’ I often hear. Or, ‘we’re going to take fika now.’
So as I’ve spent the above paragraphs dancing around what fika actually is, I will now attempt to flesh it out a little. The first part of fika is the beverage. One is not limited to coffee, as there is an array of other delicious temptations. Hot chocolate served in a 20oz mug, topped with cream and chocolate, cappuncinos, lates, cola drinks, water, . . . all are present in a typical fika place.
And. . . the treats. Man, are there treats. The amount of goodies in any given fika place puts the standard 10 items at Starbucks to shave. There is ‘semla’ a bread-type pastries with with almond pasta and cream, ‘princess cake’ which is a kind of marzipan encrusted pastry, frog pastries, cookies, cinnamon buns, sandwiches with shrimp, salads with shrimp, cheese, sandwiches with egg, and I’m sure I’m missing many others. Do people really eat these sweets? I can answer with a resounding YES! As a self-professed sweet tooth, I can safely say that here, my craving for sweets is modest at best. Although I cannot generalize, Swedes seem to have unbelievable cravings for baked goods, regardless of who they are.
Simply put, fika is great. How can you not love a tradition that allows people to stop what they are doing, sit down, and catch-up with family and friends. Workaholics may not hold this same opinion, but fika is sweet, no pun intended. It’s like stopping for coffee at grandma’s house, you make time for it, not because you must, but because it’s a part of who you are, of who we are as humans. It’s a pause in the time to appreciate each other, and show that by spending time together. Don’t get me wrong, I am not in the daily fika club. I cannot indulge in pastries that often, knowing that although they are filled with goodness, they are also filled with far too many calories. (As a side note, surprisingly, people are NOT generally fat or large in Sweden. It will take me another five months here to figure that one out).
So, there you go: an amateur attempt to de-mystify and explain a little bit about fika. Pictures will be included to do what my words cannot!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Jet lag, what a drag.
oh hey, Borås. . . .
Upwards and onwards with Renblog, now that I have more free time than I know what to do with! I have returned to Borås, more or less in one piece.
Many delays caused by a lost passenger and a lot of snow in TO could not stop the numerous flights from landing me at Landvetter. . . . unfortunately. Being overly positive is overrated!
As I write this as 4pm, whatever traces of the sun that feebly showed up for work today have retreated, and it is essentially pitch black. Essentially, I have not seen the sun since my return to Sweden. In Canada, I was constantly struck by the sunshine, often asking my mom if it's ''always this sunny here?!''
Last night I think I feel asleep by 530 a.m, (after watching the entire 2nd LOTR!), woke up again at 9, slept from 1030-12, forced myself out of bed, then lay on my bed, watching t.v for hours. Got a few groceries (super stoked about these pear-Popsicles) and will now try to prepare for tomorrow's lessons: deux classes de francais, et une classe d'anglais. Will I sleep tonight? Let's hope!
I can't put into words how great it was to be home with my family, friends, Jangles, our hot tub, and general friendliness. I won't harp much on the past, but say I am looking forward to upcoming trips to Paris, the U.K, Germany, Prague and other East-ish European cities, and then a summer at home.
Upwards and onwards with Renblog, now that I have more free time than I know what to do with! I have returned to Borås, more or less in one piece.
Many delays caused by a lost passenger and a lot of snow in TO could not stop the numerous flights from landing me at Landvetter. . . . unfortunately. Being overly positive is overrated!
As I write this as 4pm, whatever traces of the sun that feebly showed up for work today have retreated, and it is essentially pitch black. Essentially, I have not seen the sun since my return to Sweden. In Canada, I was constantly struck by the sunshine, often asking my mom if it's ''always this sunny here?!''
Last night I think I feel asleep by 530 a.m, (after watching the entire 2nd LOTR!), woke up again at 9, slept from 1030-12, forced myself out of bed, then lay on my bed, watching t.v for hours. Got a few groceries (super stoked about these pear-Popsicles) and will now try to prepare for tomorrow's lessons: deux classes de francais, et une classe d'anglais. Will I sleep tonight? Let's hope!
I can't put into words how great it was to be home with my family, friends, Jangles, our hot tub, and general friendliness. I won't harp much on the past, but say I am looking forward to upcoming trips to Paris, the U.K, Germany, Prague and other East-ish European cities, and then a summer at home.
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