of sex and change

some quick reflections before my swedish film class - more content coming!


Sex

sex goes hand in hand with inebriation the world over, but in Sweden it's different. In Australia, a one night stand was big news, it was hush hush, it was instant gossip, it was misunderstandings, it was self-doubt. Here, sex sheds a lot of its taboo. It's unspoken rule that you'll only go back to a Swede's apartment for sex. Once it's over, that's that. It has the freedom to serve as something purely for pleasure. There is none of that silly worrying over the consequences (excluding, of course, contraception - pix of strange Swedish condoms on the way!) It's sex. Or, as the saying probably goes in Swedish: "It's just sex".


Change

For some of my peeps, Lund has provided the catalyst for a long overdue self reflection. Being in a foreign place instantly gives you perspective, without you even trying. It gives you space to breathe. You stop defining yourself by the the people you used to try to impress and the commitments you used to fret about. It's a blank slate, it's a new game, and you can do whatever the hell you want with it.

The Chop

Last night we transformed Dougal. Gandhi look-alike? Neo Nazi? You decide!

Samson

I believe that today's university student must skip at least 10% of their classes to maintain the motivation to go to the rest. So that's what I'm doing now - piking on Introduction to Scandinavian Culture and Society so I can instead sit in my room. And honestly I'm quite looking forward to the next 2 hours of not doing much except playing guitar, mulling over the headfuck night that was last night, and keeping all you attentive readers up to date with my sitch.

Slowly but surely, I feel like I'm settling into normal life in Sweden. I've even got a bit of a pattern happening. I try to wake up at 9 every morning, have my classes, go to lunch with some friends, hit up the Systembolaget if there's stuff happening in the evening, drink absurd amounts of cheap coffee. Gym three times a week. Tuesday is environmental film and pub night. Thursday is Sydskanska nation night, because we've got someone in the know who'll give us the free tickets. That man is Tyko, a completely crazy party-guardian Swede, who, in his spare time, indulges in such drinking games as "Staple Poker" (where you staple gun your arm if you lose a round) and the family classic "Give Your Friend A Black Eye" (which is pretty self explanatory).

On Tuesday I got told by a Swede that he didn't think I was an international student, because I dressed very well. OMG. Probably the first time I have received such a complement, given that in second year my favourite jumper had a permanent paint stain and I believe "grooming" is something you only do when you're trying to get a job. I think his exact word was "indie". He told me about Blekinsga nation, apparently very good for people like me. I'll take a complement where I can get it, thanks.

So by now you may know that Sweden had its election on the weekend. I had to interview some Swedes to find out whether they were content with the results, and it seems that most people hold the same opinion: although they may be left leaning or socialists, they really want to see change in Sweden. The Social Democrats have been in control for about 6 of the 7 last decades, and people believe they've come too comfortable in the position of power, that they're taking it for granted and they're becoming the new elites. Most of this can be exemplified by the old Prime Minister, Göran Persson, who just bought himself a luxury mansion and had appointed his wife as the head of the Systembolaget. Although it's sad that Sweden is following the trend of heading Right like the rest of the world, the new PM Fredrik Reinfeldt is a FOX and I am looking forward to seeing his beautiful eyes gazing out at me from many a newspaper in the months to come.

I had a haircut a few days ago at Hairlight Express. Yes, Hairlight Express, as in Starlight Express, for all us closet Andrew Lloyd Weber fans(i hear ya). There's nothing that will bring a grin to my face like a daggy hair-related pun and although it may not live up to some of the clangers from North East Victoria, kudos none the less. The hairdresser was a lovely lady with marginally more English than I have Swedish, so we complemented each other well. I forgot about trying to find the right words for "a short, choppy, layered bob with a side part" and put my trust in her hands. Now I'm trying to decide whether I like it or not. Sometimes I think it's hot, in a kind of annie lennox cross early natalie imbruglia cross winona rider, other times I think my head looks like a half-plucked chicken carcass or a baby bird. If you know what I mean.

For the last month Dougal has been conducting a kind of psychological experiment where he doesn't look at his reflection. His dedication is impressive - he stoicly avoids looking at reflective surfaces and he's covered up his bathroom mirror with cardboard (leaving a little area for him to shave). The result of this? He wants to chop off his dreadlocks. All of them, every last dirty clump! Two and a half years of hard work is coming off tonight at a ceremonial beheading. I will take heaps of pics, don't worry. It's sort of another experiment: to see how much of Dougal's identity is tied up with the 'locks. He's a brave boy.

Lauren Ware is coming to Lund on Sunday. I'm meeting her in Copenhagen tomorrow for a night of debauchery and cultural misunderstandings. She says she's tired of making new friends every day, which I can completely understand. I'm already planning to make her hot chocolate and feed her cookies and look after her.

London

I know they say that it's the journey, not the destination, that matters with travel, but I think that little gem was invented before Ryanair came onto the marketplace. The journey for me involved discovering the TRUE meaning of "red eye flights", paying more than my airfare just to get into London from Stanstead airport, and facing the active discrimination that comes with being a Non-EU citizen: queuing for 45 minutes to get through the passport check and being grilled over my residence, which lead to me miserably wondering why I didn't have the foresight to break my legs prior to boarding at Malmo so I could go through the "fast track lane".

But all that said and done, London is a exhilarating, gritty and hyperactive city and I think I'm pretty gone for it. I have added it to my "places to have a penthouse in when I marry into money" list. Maybe it was because I was with locals who could steer me clear of the tourist traps, maybe it was because I threw caution to the wind and didn't bother converting the pounds I was spending into AU$, or maybe it was because, during one minute of unadalterated bliss, I devoured the best Krispy Kremes of my life in the Harrod's department store, but London has got its hooks into me.

So what did I do? I saw a gig in Brixton and drank warm beer by the pintglassfull (apparently it's social death to ask for a pot). I went to the marvellous Borough Market where massive wheels of cheese teetered on fold-out picnic tables beside kilograms of dark chocolate truffles, slabs of fresh fish and every sort of pickle and sauce you can imagine. I rode the underground. I went to the Natural Museum and had a face off with a Triceratops skeleton. Ate curry in the neon-lit Brick Lane with Nitz and 20 of her friends. Had Peking Duck Pancakes in Chinatown, just down from Trafalgar Square. Chilled out in Hyde Park. Saw a squirrel. Saw Westminster and Big Ben. Contemplated riding the Eye, but was scared off by the prospect of MORE queues. Wandered with the crowds down the Thames during the River Festival. Watched the British X-Factor in a moment of weakness. Was horrified by the public (and I mean PUBLIC) urinals in Soho. Had strange and confusing dream involving Shakespeare, Hugh Grant and Ginger Spice. All in all, a wholesome, well rounded and fully sick weekender.

My friend Nitz is an utter champ. I met her when she came on exchange to St. Mary's College/Melbourne Uni back in 2004, and I could tell straight off the bat that there was something of sterling quality about her. She continues to be brilliant. She called in her favours from all her London friends and rustled up some places to stay for the three nights we were there. From the moment I arrived until the moment I left again she was my tour guide without equal, selfless, chatty and hilarous, even if she was battling with stomach cramps and a big daddy of a hangover (by-product of a booze cruise down the River Thames with her music peeps from the National Academny, now how posh does that sound?). She's tops.

Stay tuned for my next big adventure!

from the Department of Intercultural Relations

I've got a brilliant idea and I think it's going to take off. It's going to be a little sheet, one that can fit in your wallet, of useful Swedish phrases for use in social situations. But these are USEFUL phrases, not like the verbs and nouns and possessives that us International Students (the 1500 of us) learned in our preliminary Swedish classes. These will be ones specifically for when you're out on the town, when you are wanting to meet some real live swedes, perhaps when you would like to get to know their culture a little more intimately. A slurred pickup line in English is nowhere near as impressive as the Swedish alternative!

I got some Swedes to come along to our shindig at Ulrikedal last night and they were very helpful and creative in thinking up ideas. We started off pretty innocently with "You have beautiful eyes" and "Do you want a drink" but things quickly - and in hindsight predictably - went off the rails. Well, at least now we all know how to say "Do you have a big penis, because I only have normal sized condoms".

After much fretting and research, I have decided to join Sydskånska nation. Reasons include that it's pretty close which will be handy in winter, they are very much into music, they have a choir, they have a film night, there are some pretty kewl peeps there. Dougal has joined Smålands and was working there last night, showing the natives the proper way to pour a beer. And a damn fine beer it was too: I've gotten used to wading through two inches of beer head before I can actually drink it. I hope I get to work as well.

I think I've also found my songwriting mojo again. It's just the question of getting a guitar. I've got the dosh, but this Global Environmental Justice subject has scared me off wanton and frivoulous consumption. Plus there's about 5 in my corridor anyway. I'll just have to beg Brad From Oregon or maybe I can explore some other means of creative expression for the time being.

I'm flying to London tomorrow to see my old friend Nitz, who I met when she came on exchange to Australia back in 04. She's coming directly from a ball to pick me up, so she'll all be dolled up! I'm looking forward to it, a lot. A bit ouch on the hip pocket but since, after six months menial labour I have qualified for Youth Allowance, it makes it a bit better. Thanks John.

I was wrong before - nothing fixes up a bad mood like gympa! Not even a cup of tea and a good lie down can beat the rush you get starjumping and grointhrusting along to such classics as "Mambo Number Five" with 100 other people whilst being screamed at in Swedish! I hope it's not just the novelty that's keeping me going, so I have written up this list and stuck it on my door:

REASONS TO KEEP GERDAHLLEN' IT UP
1. Can justify hectic social lifestyle and attendant vices
2. Have already paid 420kr
3. HOTT BODY
4. Possibility of winning first arm wrestle
5. Excuse to wear leggings
6. Endorphins, etc
7. Can expand Swedish vocabulary
8. Starves off inevitable winter depression
9. Alternative way to get tousled, desirable "sex hair"

so now I'm about to head off to the library to start some reading. I've been here for almost a month so it's about time to get down to studying. I have already read an article on the Narrative in Film which was downright horrid - all adademic gobbldygook, sentences three lines long, having to read the same sentence 4 times over, using big words, etc. It's a bit of a reality check actually. But two years of Law has set me in good stead to get through it.

söndag

Today has been a bit of a rough day. I can't pinpoint a reason for it, and nothing particularly bad has happened. I think it might be my first twinge of homesickness.

It started off as most sunday mornings do, waking up at 11ish to my blissfully dark room. I made some 2 minute noodles and went back to bed, wrapping myself up in my doona and Jodi Picoult book. When I felt brave enough to face the world, it was off to the communal shower. Later, strong coffee in hand, I read through my emails from my various friends and this kind of heavy feeling settled around my heart region. Strange. I had a sudden and violent urge to be at Laura, Tegan and Emma's place, chilling on their sofa, waiting for Gray's Anatomy to come on, or having breakfast/dinner at Prima Sole with Leah after her graveyard shift, or driving Sos around in the Tarago through the streets of Wodonga.

My corridor then had a meeting to arrange a cleaning roster. I'm living with 10 international students and we have been living in squalor since we arrived. I baked a packet mix cake. I spent 20 minutes on the online swedish to english dictionary, trying to figure out whether i needed to add eggs and whether I needed to grease the tin. Somehow I have wound up with the position of 'Corridor Head'. This basically means I keep the kitty and organise the roster. Not one i'm rushing to add to the CV.

I had my first cycling incident today and have a gash on my palm to prove it. I was cycling along, cool as the proverbial, and I thought my tyre was going flat. So I turn around to check it out, angle to get a better view, and before I know it I've run straight into the curb. There was one moment where I thought I could maneuver out of it, but sadly not and I ended up in a tangle of bike. Made a godawful noise too, drawing the attention of all the shoppers streaming in and out of my supermarket. I quickly picked myself up and rode away without a backwards glance, dignity in the same shape as my rickety bike. Can't believe the old girl is still functional, but she is. (really, that sentence could apply to both me and the bike)

Then I went and sat in the park. Just to get some alone time. It hasn't rained in 3 days. This is pretty miraculous, but we don't talk about it too loud in case we jinx our good luck. A massive hare kept me company. Sydskånska nation had film cafe night on tonight which we went to. It was held in a dark room filled with tealight candles, in which we were fed freshly baked brownies, $1 coffee and watched Walk The Line. We're so lucky, films aren't dubbed into Swedish the way they are in Germany (into german, obviously) so if you can ignore the white text it's almost like being in a cinema in Aus.

Leah and I had a phone chat halfway through, as the dusk was setting over lund and she was finishing another graveyard shift. Very good to talk to her. Now it's almost 2.00 and I think it's time to go to bed. I've signed up to the gym so I'm going to Gympa (the traditional Swedish aerobics training) tomorrow morning.

As it always is with shaky days, a cup of tea and good night's sleep makes it all peachy again. I can't wait for this week to start.

kronor and öre

The night train turned out to be every bit as uncomfortable as I had imagined, made even worse by the guy on the other side of the aisle smiling at me creepily. I did manage to sleep a bit, and in the process also managed to crick my neck in about 5 different ways. We rolled into Bergen at 7am. I went straight to the youth hostel and fell asleep on the couch. Dave came and found me and so began our Bergen adventure.

It was good travelling with someone after travelling alone. Dave probably wouldn't be my first choice of travelling partners - I do like to chat quite a bit but I think he preferred to soak up the atmosphere (he was a guy after all)(no offence men). But he was very experienced in the ways of the Backpacker. With him I experienced eating pov-style: two minute noodles for breakfast, stale bread and pasta sauce for lunch, making three sandwiches out of one and more stale bread for dinner. We met some awesome people, walked Bergen up and down, killed four hours in a deserted Sunday afternoon Flåm and stumbled across a a man passed out/almost dead under a tree in one of Bergen's beautiful parks.

All in all, I had a ripper of a time in Norway. Gained a lot of "life experience" as they say, through things going wrong, distruptions to my plans, language misunderstandings. Sure as heck bet 5 days staying around in Lund, getting drunk every night and spending all the next day recovering. Travel was quite expensive but it was worth it. Such a sweet moment, putting my emergency glasses on my face the moment I got home and had my sight restored.

Now I am back in Lund and I have started my classes. First up was Global Environmental Justice. I now make a point of leaving 20 minutes early so I have time to get lost twice before eventually find the right building. This time I found myself wandering around inside a high school looking for my lecturer, surrounded by teenagery teenagers. It's a cracker of a subject, taught by a passionate, articulate professor. The Department of Human Ecology are putting on an environmental film night every tuesday for the students. We turned up on Tuesday night to be greeted by steaming hot apple crumble, icecream, tea and coffee! All free! Good ole swedes.

Yesterday morning was my second class, Introduction to Scandinavian Society and Culture at 10.15am. I walked in and this girl Christine takes one look at me and whispers 'Are you OK???'. Apparently I didn't pull up too well from our Welcome Back To Lund Party penny, dougal and I threw for ourselves (and assorted others we found on the street). The lecturer is a very interesting looking man, with a floppy Hugh Grant circa Four Weddings And A Funeral fringe, a silk aviator tie, a crisp white shirt, three gold rings and a cordoroy jacket.

I've just arrived back from my third lecture, Swedish Film, which went for a whopping 4 hours, including watching Ingmar Bergman's classic Wild Strawberries. It was a brilliant movie (with subtitles) even though my arse got very sore sitting on the desks in the back row. I got lost on my way again. I rode home through the twilight streets of Lund, eyes peeled for the police who fine you 700kr if you don't have bike lights. The excuse of being a foreigner apparently won't fly with them, no matter how much you flutter your eyelashes.

Nightlife of Lund continues along in a sterling fashion. Last night I went out with Penny (we work as a duo) and met heaps of Swedes. They have come back to Lund after their summer holidays to various European destinations, so the city is buzzing now. We went to visit a Swedish house with a group of very pissed but funny/peculiar Swedish guys once the nation had closed. Dinking on my poor creaky bike down the empty streets. For some reason I've met more Swedish guys than girls. For a very obvious reason, actually...but I've always felt safe and am continuing to bumble on with my conversational Swedish, much to the amusement of all around.

Now I'm going to start my reading for some of the subjects. It's time I buckled down, as almost every educational figure in my life has said at some stage or another. Sorry this post is so long, so much has been happening! I'll try and be more regular from now on. And if anyone reading this wants to know something in particular about lund i.e. Have You Got A Question, please put it in comments, or I can just continue my self-indulgent ramblings. Either is fine.

"Do It For Steve" - has replaced "skål!" as the toast of choice amongst Australians abroad...

OSLO

sorry, too tired to make up witty headings.

This is, without a doubt, my most poorly organised holiday ever. I was debating with myself whether to reveal some examples to you, my reading family and friends, but as I am trying to stick with the new life philosophy that 'nothing is embarrassing unless you are embarrassed' here we go.

- Firstly, I forgot to change Swedish Krona into Norwegian Krona before I left(p.s. i don't know how to spell kronor/krona/kroner so please choose your own ending) leaving me with no legal tender to use on the 5 hr trip from Gotenberg to Oslo. For someone with a voracious appetite, this is akin to torture.

- Even though I thoughtfully packed my contact lenses cleaner and my contact lenses storage solution, I somehow forgot to pack my actual contact LENSES. Ditto my pensioner glasses. This is deeply distressing (will see the rest of Norway through a -1.5 dioctaves haze) however I am cheering myself with the fact that some people out there have it worse than me i.e. they are blind.

- I forgot to bring any form of jumper. I have bought 3 t-shirts though, a skirt and the screws for my bike lights (??). I bought a replacement one for 6 dollars at a super dodgy Supre-esque polyester bargain shop.

- Instead of booking tonight's accommodation last night like a conscientious traveller, I instead chatted up Christian the German so I could borrow his lonely planet guide. Upon going to the reception desk this morning I found that the hostel was in fact fully booked, just like (as I found out after an hour and a half of calls) the rest of Oslo and surrounding regions. The only option available to me now is taking the 23.11 overnight train to Bergen. I've got a seat too, not a sleeper. Which brings me quite aptly to where I am now, in a cheap internet cafe in Oslo Sentralstajion

Despite all the dramas, I am quite enjoying this mini-holiday. It's quite fun going by the seat of my pants. The combination of mystery, opportunity, spontaneousity and pure anxiety that has coloured my couple of days here is quite addictive. So I am leaving Oslo tonight after a brief but thoroughly pleasing visit.

Oslo is a pretty crazy city. Compared to the rest of Scannie (yes! another Australianism!) that I have seen so far, it's very very multicultural. It also has a confronting number of beggars and drug addicts. It's hugely expensive, but I am getting around this by living on chocolate chip cookies, packed lunches sneaked out past the youth hostel staff and going to the toilet only in museums. Museum's toilets, that is.

I went on the 92 ferry today from Vippetangen out to the island Hovedøya in the Oslofjord and chilled out in the very picturesque naturesque beaches. I also went to the National Gallery and the National Museum for Contemporary Art and saw in the flesh (amongst other things) Munch's 'The Scream', Rodin's 'The Thinker' and the cool twisted gun barrel thing sculpture. The art here is amazing and, quite frankly, leaves the NGV for dead. I also went to grønland and ate cheap Indian, and sat in a park. Then I rode some suburban train line to its final stop and came back in again, just to check out life in the 'burbs.

I'm meeting Dave in Bergen tomorrow morning. He's arriving there tonight at about 9.45. I don't think he'll find a room. The Rolling Stones, of all things, are in town tonight, and everywhere there is booked too, as I have been told repeatedly by their youth hostel staff. I can't wait to hear how HE makes it through tonight.

over and out!