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August 29, 2004
Dragso
I skipped the kayaking and opted for a lazy morning. I was up at 8:30 a.m., but took my leisurely time eating breakfast (granola and yogurt—yum), taking a bath/shower, reading my book, etc. It was just after 11:30 a.m. when I hopped on the #7 bus to Saltö. The bus ride took my past campus, past the town center, and around to one of the other islands (Saltö). From there I walked for about 15 minutes to the island of Drasgö, the most northeastern of the big islands in the Karlskrona archipelago.
It was a gorgeous day, and I didn't have a clue where I was going—just that there was a campsite on Drasgö where you could rent canoes and kayaks, and where we would meet for lunch. Fortunately, once I got there I almost immediately met Mandy, another girl from our program (from Virginia—her husband is a professor at Virginia Tech!). We wandered around for a bit, before calling Roya (who was out canoeing with the group). They were still out on the water, but thought they would be pulling into the campsite within the next ½ hour.
In the meantime, several others joined the "picnic-only" group, including Amity, Ron, Paulo, and Karl. We had a lovely meal, all sharing our various provisions. We sat at several of the picnic tables set up along the mini-beach and watched the crazy Swedish people frolicking in the water. The children are prone to swim nude, and think nothing of changing into warm clothes right on the beach. Karl, who scoped out the area yesterday, said that people of all ages participated in the nude swimming, and that the elderly made up a disproportionate number of them. For today, though, the adults mostly stuck with playing croquet in their speedos and other ill-fitting bathing suits. It's really funny how differently people view their bodies here. Clothing is often ill-fitting—usually tending towards the clingy and too-tight—and people who are modestly overweight think nothing of showing a lot of skin. Perhaps I have found a new home?
We kept a lookout for the kayaking group, and saw them circle our side of the water about an hour and half into our lunch, with still the other half of the island to paddles across. By 3 p.m. it was getting cold, and with no sign of the kayakers (they must have landed at some point, but we never met up with them), the picnic people walked back to the city center, picking and eating wild blackberries and blueberries along the way.
Having had more than my share of walking for the day, I caught the bus back to my apartment. Rather famished, I munched on chips and chocolate while my pizza cooked (my first baking experiment!). The pizza turned out okay (I will not be a repeat customer), but I can speak highly of the chips and chocolate (per usual).
Halfway through dinner the doorbell rang. I was expecting Roya at any moment, but couldn't figure out why she wouldn't use her key. Imagine my surprise when I opened the door to find Babar (the Pakistani guy from the International Office) with a girl in tow! Apparently, she had just arrived from Kyrgyzstan and needed a place to sleep for the night. I, of course, refused.
KIDDING!
I immediately welcomed her into the apartment, noting our lack of furniture but giving her the living room for the night. (At this point, you are probably wondering her name. Despite asking her a dozen times, I have forgotten it once again—I think my brain is too full of new names to be accepting others. It's something like Arlita…) She had come via Moscow, and was really tired. We chatted for a bit, and I found out she's in the "Special Planning" department. She was offered an apartment here in Kungsmarksvägen, but refused to sign the contract tonight (making her effectively homeless). Apparently, she thinks this complex is a sty, a sentiment many of us share. I would like to again emphasize that if a person from Kyrgyzstan (a place not known for its excessive standard of living) thinks that Kungsmarksvägen is a sty, it probably is. It's not just me and my elitist ways. On the other hand, it grows on me every day. I like to think of myself as "one of the people"—a real Mench, you know?
This mystery girl has now left on a little pre-collapse adventure (presumably to find food) and I'm in the apartment alone. I've packed up the remaining half of the pizza, put the chocolate out of eyesight, and am contemplating continuing reading my book. It's really interesting, but very engineering-intensive. It has, however, made me want to build my own super-energy-efficient home when I'm done with this program. I'm on a chapter that talks about how super-efficient insulation and ventilation design can eliminate the need for a furnace and air conditioner, even with temperature variations of 160 degrees Fahrenheit—without costing more than traditional design. Pretty cool!
Other interesting observations:
* I saw a man today who obviously had cut his hair with a Flobee. He looked like a young and Swedish Rod Stewart. It makes me happy to see so many content and successful people who look terrible. It continuously reinforces how we Americans are too concerned with how we look.
* Yesterday, a small Swedish child (about Janie's age) yelled at me on the bus. She was accompanied by her father and younger brother. While her father was busy attaching the stroller to the bus rail, she hopped up on the seat next to me and started loudly saying something. And by "loudly", I mean that other people turned around to see the commotion. I have no idea what she wanted, but she was obviously disgruntled. Her father came and sat down with the little boy in the seat across the row from us—but this did not placate the little girl. A few seconds later, she shrieked and slapped her hand down on the book I was trying to read. Thankfully, her father grabbed her and pulled her over to sit on his lap. It was an interesting exchange to say the least. With adults, I feel that I can adequately apologize for not speaking the language with hand motions, shrugged shoulders, and a smile. Not so with small children.
* I have further designed a plan to woo my gentleman of choice. More details to follow…
* When I transferred all of my music over from my PC to my laptop, I seem to have overlooked the CD with the "E" music. I am sorely missing my Etta James, and who knows what other jewels have been left in Bethesda? I will definitely be on the lookout for that missing CD when I'm back in November.
So it's 7:16 p.m. and Roya isn't back yet. At what point do I find the police and ask them to start searching the water for floating bodies? Unfortunately, my mobile phone has run out of minutes on its pre-paid calling card, so I can't call her. Tomorrow, I'll go buy another phone card and run by the ATM again, so that I can take out enough money to pay my rent. I've decided to skip out on the local bank account and just pay rent in cash—everything else can be done by Internet and Visa (oh Visa, I bow before thee). At least, that's my plan for now. Once I've had a chance to sit down and look over my bank account and exchange rates, I may decide that I'm being ripped off during the dollar/kronar conversion. Not that there's much choice—all the money will have to be converted at some point, I suppose.
Classes start tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. and run until noon. I'm a little miffed that classes begin so early (starting Wednesday they will begin at 8:15 a.m.!!) I didn't sign up for graduate school to be getting up at 7 a.m., I can tell you that. In fact, I believe a general principle in life should be that your alarm clock should never be set for classes any earlier than they would be set for work.
On that note, I should get back to reading my book. I'm feeling a little behind my classmates on The Natural Step philosophy, on which this program is based. Guess I'll be getting up to speed in the next few weeks, because I heard a rumor the first exam is on September 19th!
Update: Altina is her name. And Roya's alive and back, and also carrying a mattress.
