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August 21, 2004
I'm a Morning Person!
I've always wanted to be a morning person—the kind who wakes up at sunrise and is excited about getting up. Well, it seems that I will only be that person when I'm suffering from jet lag. It's 8:45 a.m. and I'm sitting in Karlskrona's Central Park (or Höglands Park, if you prefer) waiting for the coffee shop across the street to open. I woke up at 5 a.m. this morning, and have taken another bath/shower, done some yoga (with yoga god Rodney Yee), and gone through Unit , Lesson 2 of my Arabic CD. It looks like its going to be another beautiful day here, so I thought I should get outside while there's still daylight to enjoy. And what better way to be outside than with a cup of coffee and a good book? I hopped the bus to Centrum and wandered around a bit, but the earliest time anything opens appears to be 9 a.m. (and several other cafés don't open until 10 a.m.). So I've parked myself in front of the amphitheatre, and here I sit.
I forgot to mention that yesterday I ran into the rebellious youth contingent of Karlskrona. They consisted of a group of 5-6 boys, right around 15 years old. They had the posture and attitude of any group of boys that age, but they were dressed as a young Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. You know, the hair tousled just so, the sweater casually draped over the shoulders, etc. It was a little surreal, but once again reinforced that many of the Swedes (at least the one in Karlskrona) use an unnecessary amount of hair product.
Ahh, coffee. I'm now in Tre G's café, where I'm sipping on a hazelnut latte (no soy milk, alas). There is a fountain in the background, providing ambient noise and making me have to pee. Luckily, there is a toaletter within easy reach. I've snuggled into one of the back tables, where I'm sitting at one of the few couches. Forgoing a pastry (they look delicious, rather reminiscent of Bread and Chocolate) based on my earlier gorging on:
* A piece of bread with Nutella (or its Swedish equivalent) at 5 a.m.
* A Granny Smith apple (from South Africa) at 7 a.m.
* A sandwich of ham (I think) and cheese at 8 a.m.
It's amazing how ravenous you can be after not eating for 18 hours—my body clearly hasn't adjusted to normal meal times in Sweden, leaving me hungry at odd hours. At least now I have some food in my refrigerator (which now seems to be at the right temperature) for any late-night cravings.
And now, some thoughts that don't really fit within the narrative:
· I got an email from someone I used to have feelings for. Without noticing it, I was suddenly re-reading the email, looking for hidden meaning and wondering if there was more behind the simple lines. Once I realized I wasn't taking the note at face value, but was probing it for deeper emotional value, I flipped out. (Well, as much as someone can flip out while standing at a public computer terminal.) I really don't want to be one of those people who overanalyze things, especially when no good can come of it. So I stopped, but I'm definitely aware that it's lurking just beyond the surface. How irritating to be here in Sweden starting a new life, and to have this figure from my past inserting himself at inopportune moments. Bah!
· Now onto happier things: the men of Karlskrona. Ah yes, I have found the much-touted Viking strain, right here in town. Now, I must admit they aren't on every street corner (although a shorter, stockier, middle-aged version seems to be), but they are definitely around—particularly on the #7 bus at 3 p.m. At least, that's the most concentrated spotting so far. Again, too much hair gel, but a loving woman (me, me, me!) could easily remedy that problem. There is also a group of extremely attractive men of Middle Eastern descent (Iranian?) who seem to frequent the same places I do. Although when you consider how small the town is, there aren't that many places to frequent, I suppose. So maybe they aren't following me in secret admiration…
· I'd heard that Swedes were reserved (some say rude), and that it was difficult to communicate with them. I have found quite the opposite. While it's true they rarely initiate conversation, everyone I've spoken with has been extremely helpful (especially with my embarrassing habit of trying to pay 1/10 of the total price) and willing to try out their English. Coming from Washington, D.C., I think the overall friendliness/reserved quotient is just about right. I've discovered the trick is to start with a big "hello!" to let people know I will be using English. That way, they have a minute to mentally adjust. Things go swimmingly from there.
· I'd also been told (by a professor at the university) that Swedes dress more formally than their American counterparts. As a result, I skipped on the t-shirts and shorts in favor of more snappy attire. Well, either I dress better than the Average American (which I think we can all agree isn't true) or the image of sloppy Americans is a bit overstated. In the time I've spent in town, the vast majority of people have been wearing jeans (or cargo pants) and sneakers. Yes, they look "put together", but "formal" is not a word I would readily use.
· I've discovered that a good part of my exhaustion so far is mental. Swedish is close enough to German that I'm constantly trying to speak/think/translate into German, only to realize that no one will understand me. On the bright side, I'm remembering a lot of the German I thought had faded from my memory forever. The school will offer an introductory Swedish class (2-weeks) at the beginning of September, which I will definitely take, but I think I need to sign up for something more long-term—or perhaps pursue learning Swedish via CD. I seem to pick up Arabic pretty quickly using my CD, and I think Swedish would be even easier with the Latin alphabet. But between the Swedish, German, and Arabic coursing though my mind, I'm finding it harder and harder to quickly come up with English vocabulary. Fortunately, I found out that a girl from Boston checked in yesterday (also in my Sustainability program), so I'm hoping we can be friends. It will be great to talk with a fluent English speaker on a regular basis—even the students at the International Office and I have a hard time communicating more complex ideas (like "window screens").
And that, I think, is it for now. I've finished my kaffe latte (look how I pick up Swedish with ease!) and I think it might be time to move back outside to read my book. It's alternating between beautiful sun and clouds, effectively shifting the temperature between short-sleeves and sweater, but I'm willing to brave it. The real problem so far is the wind. It's always breezy, and by breezy I mean downright windy. At times I look like I've been through a hurricane. I'm chalking it up to part of the great Swedish adventure.
