A Rolling...Block

They (yes, the 'they' we all take heed of and yet can't seem to really figure out the identities of) say that a rolling stone gathers no moss. Keep thinking and working, innovating and allowing your creative juices to flow, and your cognitive skills won't ever get rusty (or mossy, so to speak).

Just a few days ago, I turned 21. Yes, I made it. Leaped over the last barrier excluding me from the rest of adult society in the United States. This is usually the point at which a normal college student would create a drinks list, grab a permanent marker, and be marched into a series of bars, as what little consciousness remaining after a hard pre-game slips away, to be fed 21 shots at all costs.

Thankfully, having spent the last semester in Sweden and getting used to social drinking, working in a bar, and otherwise spending copious amounts of time around alcohol, I was not nearly as thrilled with this 21 shots prospect as society dictated I ought to be. So, instead of an all-out, blackout, getting-kicked-out, throw-up-then-curl-up, and hug-the-toilet kind of night, 8 of us spent the night together for a lovely dinner at Colors, then did a little tour around downtown.

We trekked over to Holly's NYU dormitory so she could grab the remainder of some decent and some not-so-decent alcohol, then headed over to Gold Street to hang out on the roof of Jon's building. The view from up there was absolutely beautiful, not to mention the roof itself which was incredibly lovely. With Jon staying behind, we headed off to buy a few 6-packs, said a temporary farewell to Holly, and wandered over to South Street Seaport.

Best way to ring in midnight of your birthday? Running around looking for the toilet, finding it, then running back for hugs, kisses, and lots of love.

Kevin and Sarah then peel off from the group, leaving Hudson, Tyler, Raph, and myself to go over to Saint Mark's Place and meet up with Holly again. A cone of fries, a few drinks and attempted bar entry (I say attempted because poor Raph was still 20 and the bouncer wouldn't let him slide) later, we end up at a Japanese noodle house.

The night winds down and a few blocks later, we part ways and thus ends the peaceful and extremely satisfying first hours of my 21st year.

Now, what is the reason for the title of this post?

I was thinking about how as we get older, it's important to keep in mind that the constant use of a skill, the "rolling stone," keeps it from growing moss...sticking, and in the sense of a skill, stagnating.

But you know, life is like that too. You need to keep going no matter what small pebbles are chipped off of you, no matter what puddles of mud try to slow you down. Life is like that- an endless, sloped plane with any number of difficulties tossed in the path of your rolling. Some obstacles are so difficult to get over, but I've realized that sometimes the hardest aren't always external.

We build a lot of our own obstacles and I think one of those is age. At my age, I could still be considered a growing individual. I don't feel that I'm at my intellectual prime yet because I know so little about the world and the professional arena. But what happens when you have gone past your prime and each year that rolls by you is one you want to hold on to?

I got a taste of this feeling recently. It's not that I don't want to be 21, but I just feel that it's unnecessary to be 21 at all. What benefit does this numerical age offer me? Age feels like a burden; as if I was a rolling stone that had been turned into a rolling block. Each flat side was the span of a year and the effort of turning over that corner onto the next flat side was the equivalent effort needed to keep dragging oneself forward through the rigors of everyday life with the knowledge that you were 365 days older than when you last counted.

The very thought of this has depressed me all over again.

Recently I have been feeling more like a block than a round boulder, but I suspect this might be caused by a lack of employment offering monetary rewards, the swiftly-arriving end of my college career, and the sharp realization of what expectations I've met, yet to live up to, and have already failed.

With the advent of the school year, however, I am confident that the familiar rhythms of academia can allay my fears, build up my store of knowledge and self-assurance, and give me the what it takes to turn my angular form and irregular rolling into something smoother and rounder that can speed forward with a greater sense of purpose.

Dissatisfaction

I wonder how it is that someone who has attended one of the best middle and high schools in the country, gone on to an Ivy league school, and had such an amazing semester abroad can still have achieved so little and be such a failure.

Cyber Century: Rise of the Coward

It has recently come to my attention that the use of anonymity online is extending past its boundaries of "detached news story" to "my Facebook news feed." (On a side note, "Facebook" is not noted to be spelled incorrectly by my spell check function, but "facebook" is, haha.)

I'm talking about formspring.me.

Usually, this wouldn't bother me too much. I would normally attribute such things to stupid and short-lived trends in the web-savvy population, but after seeing so many formspring.me accounts springing up on my Facebook news feed, I got to wondering how such things develop and what it means about the general mentality of the users. Because it is so easy to stay anonymous now, specifically in reference to these online accounts, what does that mean about people today?

Could it be we are staying anonymous so we can ask genuinely interesting questions without having to remain excessively PC as society dictates we ought to be? That may not be a bad thing at all. Often the media blows delicate situations out of proportion, using a speaker's lack of political correctness as an excuse to create rifts in society and stir up situations that benefit no one but the media outlet's bottom line. Anonymity has also been beneficial in terms of allowing bloggers and political dissidents to spread awareness of governmental corruption or certain types of sensitive information.

However, I know everyone who is reading this is also very well aware of what damage such anonymity can cause. Cyber bullying is one such example. In March of this year, a 17 year old girl committed suicide because of anonymous abusive comments left on her formspring account. So what does this mean?

I'm not too sure, actually. I'm tempted to think that this type of freedom is more detrimental than constructive and fosters the growth of an entire generation of adolescent cowards. It isn't my intention to sound high and mighty, swinging the torch of truth and pretending to be self righteous, but I want to really take a look at what the use of anonymous user websites and platforms are doing, or rather, have done.

As it was the rise of formspring.me that brought this to my attention, I will use it as my core example. Of course there are countless other examples, such as Facebook's "Honesty box" application or even the use of instant messaging accounts on AIM, but it would be redundant to address each one separately, not to mention exhausting and nearly impossible.

A few of my friends have used created formspring accounts, linked them to their Facebook profiles, and shared the link with everyone. From looking at these accounts and what questions people have posted, I can't say that I have been particularly impressed with what is going on. There is the usual playful banter between friends who can be easily identified by a unique typing style, trivial questions about random events, and other unremarkable comments. Not a big deal, but I see no reason for this platform to exist if anonymity isn't necessary for this type of communication to begin with. The argument for amusement can be made, and I'll accept that, but I'm simply saying that the anonymity isn't lending anything to the user experience.

Questions like "What do you want in a partner" however, really are troublesome.

First of all, if you are an individual who is interested in another person, wouldn't it be best to understand what kind of person they are attracted to by, dare I say, getting to know them? Second, even after knowing what this individual wants in a significant other, would you go through the effort of changing yourself to fit that ideal before getting to know them? What many people treasure about relationships includes the process of changing together and knowing someone's "before" and "after" tendencies. Third, whatever happened to manning up (this applies to girls too) and saying these things face to face?

There is nothing wrong with a lack of confidence, but I feel there is a difference between being shy and a coward.

On the flip side, what can be said about people who create formspring accounts intending to share parts of themselves that actually hold substance and value as opposed to those who do it simply for the amusement factor?

I truly don't know what to say about this. On one hand it's somewhat awkward, because what it means is that there are friends you have who don't feel comfortable enough with you to ask certain questions. I wonder, isn't feeling comfortable with another individual the basis for forming a friendship with them? I understand there are definitely some questions you would not ask, but if this person wants to tell you, don't you think they'd tell you when they feel ready?

It's very interesting how the internet changes the way we think and act around each other. I wish there was a way to compare social interactions from the beginning of modern man's evolution until the present.

I need a better background in psychology than AP Psych and Psych 101 with Prof. Maas.

ZIMBARDO!

Home, (Sweet?) Home

I've just completed my first full day back in the good old U.S. of A. and how strange it is!

After getting a ride to the airport (tack, Filip!) and jumping on my plane, the shock of leaving Sweden finally set in. Of course, I was sad about leaving Uppsala and was close to tears a few times but really the idea of not seeing them again for years, maybe forever in some cases, didn't hit home until I was in my seat and starting to zone out during the safety videos.

Where will everyone be when I have enough money and the time to go back? Will we stay close enough for me to come back to see them? How long can a close friendship last without real physical and face-to-face contact?

I had so many questions floating around in my head that the level of certainty I left Uppsala with regarding how well I could maintain these friendships began to crumble. However, actually landing in Newark and settling back into New York has had the relatively interesting effect of soothing my anxiety and increasing my desire to go back.

On the plane, I also made friends with the guy sitting next to me, Mark, and his brother. They were heading to NYC from Stockholm for a 4 day vacation with their father. Interestingly, this Swede was very open and talkative from the start-- not very usual because the norm in Sweden is that you don't start a conversation with someone if you don't know them. Perhaps our conversation was instigated by the fact that he knew I was American. Curious. Chatting with him made the otherwise uneventful trip quite enjoyable.

Upon landing, Mark and his brother craned their necks to see out the windows and remarked on how different the skyline was as compared with their native Stockholm. That was definitely something I noticed when I traveled in Europe too-- the skylines are older with beautifully engineered structures which may not be as tall as our skyscrapers, but make up for height in grace and age.

When I left the airport with my parents I really saw how many large vehicles there were on the streets and was appalled at the sheer waste of it all. Who in the world needs an SUV when they live in the city? It's understandable if you have a job involving construction or if you have a trailer you need to pull around, but really what is the use of a gas guzzling monster if it isn't necessary?

A confession: I am a judgmental person. I was at my worst in the middle school years, steadily became less judgmental from senior year onwards, then toppled back down again after returning from Sweden. I think I've become more critical of the American lifestyle since coming back and the reverse culture shock has made it worse. When you get a glimpse of something closer to your ideal, it's harder to go back.

Being home is nice though. The house has the smell of spring nestled in every corner, my rabbit is still alive, my cactus is thriving, and I have all the Asian food I could ever eat. I have my loving family, friends who are working in the city this summer, and a wonderful boyfriend to come back to.

Some things have changed though, and not really for the better. My maternal grandparents have had some issues with their health and I think this has really taken a toll on them as well as my family. My grandmother has become especially snippy and often scolds my grandfather for minor things or nothing at all. Mounting tensions in their overcrowded home (my uncle and his family live there too) has also affected the overall health of everyone involved. Even my little sister who was so eager to stay close to home for college now can't wait to leave.

Usually there isn't much anyone can do in this type of situation, but I'm glad to be home so at least I can buffer the sharp edges of my grandmother's tongue. Apparently, as she told me this evening, she likes just hearing my voice so anytime she gets angry or annoyed, so long as I am there I can talk to her and calm her down. This at least takes some of my worry away from her blood pressure.

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On another note, here's a cool article Sarah showed me about parental leave in Sweden:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/10/world/europe/10iht-sweden.html?src=me&ref=general

I admit to checking out some of the young fathers out on daddy dates. Who knew a stroller and cute baby could be the best accessory a man could have?

Shame and Embarrassment

My whole life I've grown up loving my country and everything we stand for. I love the basic tenants of our government (even though it doesn't seem the separation between church and state is as clear as dear Mr. Jefferson wanted it to be) and I love the rights that I have as an American. I love my friends and family and how we have the freedom to be together and do what we wish.

There have been instances though, which I have been made painfully aware of while here, where I am truly embarrassed to be associated with other Americans. Embarrassment because I can see, clearer than ever, how rude, insensitive, and coarse some Americans are. What citizen of another nationality would sit in a Swedish cafe and lambast the country's love of its royal family and sneer at the pride they take in the crown princess's wedding?

I could have died.

We are crude. We are loud. Our sense of humor tends towards vulgarity and female abuse. And what about respect? Would you not think that with the country being founded by the prudes of European society we would have developed a culture that centers around respect? Apparently not.

What makes this worse, is that these two individuals who so insensitively criticized the royal family are both Cornell students. One, in particular, succeeded in being so loud and rude about his opinions that our group (three Americans including myself, two Austrians, a Hungarian, a Kiwi, and a Frenchwoman) earned the dirty looks of the Swedes sitting at neighboring tables.

I was so irritated that after I checked his outburst, I couldn't concentrate on studying any longer and sat next to my Austrian friend trying to explain the factor of relatedness in bees to her. I believe the other American caught my death stares at the excessively rude individual and was more subdued for it. My Austrian friend, Isolde, could very well tell that I was bothered too.

Biking back from the library and talking to her just now, I felt profound relief as I heard her explain that although there were individuals in our group who fit the American stereotype, I was most certainly not one of them. But the anger and disappointment I felt was so crushing, that the depression still has not lifted. What to do?

The pressure I felt coming here as an American to show the best image of our country that I could was relieved little by little as I made more and more foreign friends (especially with Swedes). And now after this shocking incident, the pressure has descended once again and made me realize that no matter how much one works to change a world view, there will always be twice the number to reverse it again.

Time Waits For No Man, But I Wish It Would Wait For Me

It's been a while since my last serious post and so much has happened since then.

There are definitely advantages to traveling, that goes without saying, but there are just as many advantages to staying in one place. What I wish I'd done sooner was put down some roots here in Uppsala and gotten to know my fellow nation members. We'll always have regrets though, so all anyone can ever do is to live life with as few of them as possible.

I've learned so much from my time abroad that it's almost impossible to keep track of all the lessons. This post is to help do that, but more let everyone else know what wonders can be discovered when you leave your home and decide to set up shop elsewhere.

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First, when you are presented with a new opportunity, no matter what kind of opportunity it is, seize it by the throat and wring everything you can from it. Actually, that sounds a bit brutal doesn't it? I realize it might sound uncouth, but really "Get the most out of it" just doesn't convey the same type of mental imagery and also sounds a bit weak to me.

My opportunity was to go abroad. Did I get the most from it? I think so! Or at least I tried.

In terms of traveling, I don't think I've had such an amazing time before. I managed to see Paris, Granville, the Mont Saint Michel, San Malo, the Emerald Coast, and a few other places in Bretagne and Normandy I can't quite remember, Brussels, Waterloo, Louvain la Neuve, Bruges, Aachen, Maastricht, Amsterdam, Prague, Kutna Hora, Terezin, Kiruna, Björkliden, Abisko, Stockholm, Falun, Borlange, Rome, Copenhagen, and Helsingør.

Suffice it to say, after spending the first half of the semester running around, it was nice to stay put for a while. I believe I've definitely made the most of Ryanair and the Swedish rail system.

And have I made the most of my time here, rooted in Sweden?

I say that I wish I'd put roots down here in this beautiful city earlier, but now what I wish is that I'd had the opportunity to stay here longer than a semester. People have warned me about the Swedish mentality and how they act towards outsiders. They're supposed to be cold and distant until you break through their icy exterior and realize they're all cuddles and snapps. I don't think I've had to put forth so much effort as I thought I would, but perhaps that's because I came prepared. In any case, I believe wholeheartedly that I've achieved that and am proud to call some of the most amazing people I've ever met my dear friends.

Being open, honest, and outgoing can get you so far that it's hard to imagine how I might have survived here if I'd been just a smidgen shyer. Okay, so I could have survived, but I wouldn't have been able to live it up as I have been this past month and a half.

When I returned from Belgium and decided to stop traveling for a while, I figured it was as good a time as any to keep working. I'd worked once before as a barback for the pub with John (one of the barhosts) and really enjoyed it, and so looked forward to getting called back again for more work. Little did I know what wonders awaited me.

Before anyone else, I have to thank Hannes, the 3rd Curator of Varmlands Nation, for everything he's done, which is everything, essentially. I went in pretty late in the semester to sign up for work, and after talking to him and signing up, he recommended me for work when the bar hosts were looking for pub workers. He recommended me on the basis of a "good vibe," so to that, Hannes, I say tack så mycket!

I'm also really grateful to my friend John, one of the bar hosts, who was my first boss and really got me involved in the nation. He's probably one of the most easygoing and fun people I've met here. That's another reason I'm so sad to be leaving Sweden already-- all the people who I've become close to here in Varmlands Nation are so open, understanding, energetic, and full of life. These are people I can be ridiculous with without worrying how they'll perceive me. Sometimes they even increase the level of weirdness and ridiculousness I am capable of expressing.

After I'd worked at the pub a few more times, I became familiar with Linda, who works in the kitchen, and Klara, who is the Kitchen master, and Lotta, who works in the cafe and sometimes pub as well. These girls are so awesome, it's incredible. Demure Swedish girls? Not! They have so much energy and are so outgoing I can't understand how I didn't meet them earlier.

Then of course there's Christopher Robin, seriously one of the most adorable people I've ever met, Gustaf, who I nicknamed Vasaloppet the first day I met him, and Mikael and Gabriella, definitely two of the most sweet and loving people at the nation. There are people who I only got to know towards the end of my time here, like Gozzi, Filip, and Johan, and who I will be very sad to leave after knowing them for only this last short month. Of course there are others, but to list them all and explain how they've made my experience here so much richer would take much more than a simple blog post.

Once you've been "accepted" into a circle, then you know everyone. About a week after I started hanging out at Varmlands and working there regularly, I was immersed in a sea of Swedish love. Suddenly I had tripled my circle of friends and was incapable of understanding over half the notifications that popped up on my Facebook news feed. Another reason to learn Swedish.

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Second, whenever you're presented with a task, give more than 110%. People really appreciate hard work and especially if you're working with a smile.

I think because everyone was so open and because they welcomed me with open arms, I was that much more willing to do what I could for the nation. The pay is bad, but the company that I have while I'm there is priceless.

Serving is an awesome experience because you learn so much about how an organization operates, how to work with other types of people in a job that is more physically labor intensive than school courses, how to please other people, and have fun doing it. I love being a bar back and running up and down those 3 flights of stairs between the pub, main hall, and kitchen. I love greeting people at the door. I love being a bartender and doling out liquid fun, as well as learning to make new drinks.

The cool thing about working with bartenders too is that they tend to be not just an endless source of fun and cheer, but they are also very creative people. If you spend so much of your time mixing flavors and perfecting pouring layers, there's no way you'd be boring.

They also make cleaning FUN. Who knew? I actually enjoyed scrubbing the kitchen sink and mopping the floor. My mom would kill to have me clean at home like I do at the Nation, hahaha.

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My third and last lesson for this post is something I learned from Mattias Klum, a National Geographic photographer and the closest thing to a hero I've ever had, and that is to stay naked.

Nakedness in every sense of the word is not really seen as anything positive in our society. People become distrustful as they get older, walling themselves off from others, only opening up to certain people and socializing in familiar circles.

Mattias Klum explained to a very excited and nervous, shaky me who went to go talk to him during a break in his presentation, that he tries his best to stay in this "naked" state, as he referred to it. When people put up walls, he explained, it's a very natural thing to do and in this society, something very necessary. But he works hard to keep those walls down, sharing his ideas and inciting passion by making a very fundamental connection between himself and other people.

This idea comes across in all his photos, with which he tries to link the heart and mind- a recipe for passion.

But why does it matter so much that you keep the walls down if it's such a natural part of socialization?

I believe these protective mental blockades are detrimental to a person's ability to realize their full potential in any circumstances. When you pull down the shields it becomes easier to talk and relate to other people, which encourages an equally open response. This automatically makes someone a more outgoing and confident person because they need to concentrate so much less on what to hide and what to reveal as opposed to being free and open.

I hadn't realized how important this idea of vulnerability and nakedness was until I really thought about what it was that I was doing differently here compared to what I'd been doing up until I met the nation members. Raph mentioned he though Sweden changed me in a few ways, one of them being that I'd become more outgoing. I think that's definitely true and in that respect I have one other person to thank as well.

Starting with Sarah, who changed me from a misanthropic, antisocial nerd into a people-loving, socially fluent dork, I've come to this point where all my Swedish friends have helped me become more confident and understand life beyond my home and university. They've also shown me that the pool of people who are cool and nerdy is not as small as I'd feared. Where else would you find a mansionful of people who drink and sing until 8 in the morning and then go to a LAN party the next day?

When I became involved with this close community of people, I wasn't conscious of the fact that I was indeed being more open and unguarded. But after thinking about how much I'd miss everyone after I left, I got to wondering why that was so. After all, how many people do you meet and know for a few months then feel heartbroken about leaving? It's because we didn't have to be guarded around each other and felt comfortable to joke around and work together as if we'd known each other the entire semester.

It's going to be tough to leave this beautiful city.

I Love My Socialist Nightmare

http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/tue-april-21-2009/the-stockholm-syndrome-pt--1

With love, Eyjafjalljökull

As I didn't manage to put up pictures in my last post, here is a selection of my favorites from my time in France and Belgium. Unfortunately, I didn't bring my camera to Louvain la Neuve when we went to hang out, but I at least have a few things to show you all!

This is the harbor at Granville where the Werbroucks have their boat. She's one of the biggest (if not the biggest) in the harbor, which is cool, but also the reason why it was difficult to set her back in the water.

With the high winds the area had been getting, the harbor master was worried about the size of the boat and how dangerous it might be while trying to lower it back into the harbor. Because of that we didn't get to go sailing, but it was still very rewarding to work on the boat, see it and eat on it, and also explore Granville.

We made a trip to Saint Malo, a very old, walled city in Brittany that sits on the English Channel. It was a city once notorious for being home to French privateers and pirates.

These days the city is a great tourist attraction and is also featured in a very popular song by Hugues Aufray, Santiano.

We also headed to the Mont Saint-Michel, a tidal island and also apparently a commune in Normandy. The island has a population of 41.

The story goes that St. Michael the Archangel appeared to St. Aubert, bishop of Auvranches in 708 and told him to build a church on the islet. The bishop ignored the visions until the angel burned a hole in the bishop's skull...

Then there was also the Cote D'emeraude! Such beauty!

The colors were so intense and rich, it is ridiculous to think that a mere picture can convey the magnitude of beauty and emotion that this kind of landscape can evoke.

We didn't go inside the castle because it would have taken too long and cost money, but the walk around the coast was probably better than anything you would find in the stone fort.

When we returned to Belgium, Cedric took me around to Waterloo where we saw the lion and a cool panorama of the battle as well as the military museum in Brussels, which was unfortunately undergoing a lot of maintenance so many of the rooms were closed off.

We also picked up his friend, Jenni, who he met in Tennessee and was visiting from her semester abroad in France.

That evening we headed out to Louvain la Neuve for some famous fries and I ended up getting a ridiculous baguette with sausage in it and topped off with a massive amount of fries...I suspect the shop owner aimed to kill me via cardiac arrest.

We met up with his two other friends Martin (on the left) and Antoine (on the right) who are both engineers and go to school at Louvain la Neuve.

We were also joined by Cedric's cousin and her boyfriend later that evening. We each ordered and the drinks came in these massive glasses, vases really, with little napkins tied around them like neckerchiefs. Very cute.

Then a bbq the next day!

Chilling ouuuuuut. Such a relaxing day. This is apparently an average Saturday for the Werbrouck family.

I wish I could be swinging in that hammock again...

That weekend when we went out to Louvain la Neuve again, keep in mind this is a massive college town (more like a small city now), we hit up a "Circle," something like a cross between a Swedish student nation and a fraternity. You would join a circle depending on certain characteristics you shared with other individuals, like your major or where you were from.

The Circle we ended up going to was one for engineers- and I would like to reiterate (for those of you who know me) my love for engineers. If they aren't awkward, socially retarded introverts, then engineers are by far the most amazing people in the world. They are outspoken, fun-loving people who aren't afraid to look foolish and that makes them all the more interesting.

At one point, they were playing this song at the bar and suddenly all the students, mostly dressed in their red engineering sweaters, charged the bar and with their arms either around each other or reaching over the bar jumped and danced like they were a single organism, the scene resembling something of a small mosh pit.

At the chorus the mob got even crazier and the bartenders started throwing buckets of water over the crowd. Interestingly enough, this seemed to fuel the dancing students' rhythmic groove and still they continued!

It was awesome.

Jenni and I also made a day trip out to Bruges where we had some interesting adventures.

First I'd like to comment on some very interesting chocolates we saw in the windows of some of the chocolate shops...

But aside from that, Bruges is most definitely a beautiful city, filled with cafes, lace, and canals.

Unfortunately my camera died before we got to the most beautiful area of the city, so I don't have any pictures of that. But imagine this canal:

...flowing down and if you follow it, you end up in a beautiful park with swans everywhere and small stone bridges spanning the canal's width. On one side you have small shops selling waffles and sandwiches, a fountain with horses' heads spewing water for the cabbies to fill their buckets and water their hardworking steeds, and a fenced in park for waterfowl with a large swan's nest built only a meter away from the rail with people hanging over it to take photos.

On the other side you have a large, walled area with a convent inside. When you pass through the gate, there are rows upon rows of small white houses fronted with white walls in which there have been set low doorways with a metal bell.

The gardens in the area are planted with yellow and white flowers, narcissus and daffodils i think, and the roads paved with cobblestone.

If any of you have seen the movie "In Bruges" this is a photo taken from the top of the tower in the main square. I was tempted to lay in the square face down in front of the tower so that Jenni could take a photo of me like I'd just jumped, but sadly I wasn't ready to look so ridiculous in front of so many people.

The following day, we made a trip into Brussels with Wivine (Cedric's mother) to meet up with Cedric and Morgane and had lunch there. After some walking around we passed through the usual sights: the cathedral where the royal family has their marriages, the Grand Place, EU buildings, saw the street where the US embassy has a closed street all to itself (who the hell knows why), the royal palace, etc...

A tribute to my favorite beer thus far: DELIRIUM :)

And here I leave you with my final image from the last day I had in Belgium:

It's Raph's old house! Wivine took me into his town before we headed to the airport so I could see what the village looked like and the house he grew up in. Apparently the house is bigger now because the current residents added an extension, but the hedges are still the same ones Raph's family planted and that willow tree is still the same one he broke branches from to hit people with.

Blast...

I spoke too soon.

I'm up to my 5th cancellation and 6th booking.

I Love Belgium (and Belgians)

I know I said to expect posts about Prague, but I haven't gotten around to working on that and after going to The Netherlands, the idea of tackling both trips is rather daunting. I suppose I should work on that, but I'm going to go a bit out of order and write a bit about the trip I'm on now. This isn't going to have pictures because I'm working from a friend's computer and I always like to sort through the photos before I post them, so a more detailed description will be posted later. This is kind of a pain to type too because this laptop has a French keyboard.

I love Belgium. I also love Bretagne and Normandy. Mostly what I love is Belgians though.

I can only speak of about 50% of the population because I've only come into contact with Walloons and have only spoken to a few Flemish people for very brief amouts of time. Spending time with the Golliers, the Werbroucks, and their friends has shown me that the country is not only characterized by chocolate, beer, waffles, statues of urinating children, and diamonds, but also big, lively, long-lived, happy families and a distinctly non-french French accent.

Initially this trip was only supposed to be 6 days but because of the recent volcanic activity in Iceland, my flight was cancelled 4 times and I've booked 5 different times.

Luckily for me I am staying with a super awesome family. I've had an absolute blast with the Werbroucks and will find it very hard to leave them. Wivine and Vincent are so welcoming and together with their children, Cedric, Morgane, Gaetan, Camille, and Loic, family dinners are always a riot. Feels like home!

Another American girl, Jenny, came to visit too. She knew Cedric from back when they were in school together in Tennessee and stayed for a few days. She is apparently studying in a very expensive part of Southern France.

We got to meet several of Cedric's friends as well. I met several at one dinner- these were the students he went to Corsica with, and met a few others, Antoine, Martin, and Nicolas when we went out. His cousin and her boyfriend also met up with us at a bar (on a boat in a canal) about 30 min from where he lives.

It's awesome when you feel so at home halfway around the world.

European rankings

So after doing a bit of traveling, I've decided that the top 3 most attractive European countries are as follows:

1. Denmark (hands down, the best looking people by far)
2. Sweden (the handsome ones are seeeriously awesome eye-candy)
3. Belgium (NO I am not biased at all. Belgium is definitely up there)

Easter (and the decline of the Church) in Sweden

It's Easter!

Biking back from SLU today I had to take great care in not mowing down vast hoards of children dressed thusly:

Note that I wasn't the one who took pictures of these pink-cheek-painted, freckle be-daubed, headscarfed children because I was not brave enough to dash out to any of their parents and beg to photograph their kids so images could be posted across the web on this unknown American's blog.

In the olden days, Swedes believed Easter was witches time. On the Thursday before Easter, witches were supposed to have flown off to Blåkulla, Blue Mountain, to meet with the Devil. Now, little kids dress up as witches and walk around town knocking on people's doors, taking along their painted eggs and handmade cards to trade for sweets.

You also see a lot of these in windows and shops:

They're decorations derived from a somewhat disturbing tradition that the Swedes had for a while. In the past, kids used to whip each other with birch switches to remind one another of the pain Jesus suffered (although I personally don't believe this is the lesson most kids took from such an activity).

This is, for most Swedes, a cultural holiday as opposed to a religious one. This brings me to the country's religious history, which I actually find very interesting.

Prior to the 11th C. Swedes believed in Norse paganism and worshipped the Æsir gods. Their pagan stronghold was actually centered in Uppsala at the Temple in Uppsala. Cool, no? I almost can't believe I'm living in a place with so much history!

With the Christianization of Sweden in the 11th C. however, laws were passed that forbade the worship of any other god into the late 1800s. Then in the 1530s after the Protestant Reformation the church and state were separated and the Roman Catholic bishops were stripped of their power. This led to the rise of Lutheranism (note that I'm including these links because I absolutely cannot keep divisions of Christianity straight so I figured this would be helpful to any readers). Between then and the 18th C. non-Lutherans who played a large role in the economy's growth (Wikipedia says: Calvinist Dutchmen, the Moravian Church and Walloons or French Huguenots from Belgium) were allowed to live and practice in Sweden as long as they kept a low religious profile. Until 1860 it was illegal for Lutheran Swedes to convert to any other religion.

The 1800s began with the introduction of free churches and ended with the introduction of secularism, which led many Swedes to distance themselves from Church rituals. Finally in 1951 it became legal for Swedes to withdraw from the Church and remain so without being forced to enter another denomination. In a welcome meeting SLU held for us, we also learned that when this law was formed, 20% of Swedes withdrew from the Church.

In 2008, 72.9% of Swedes were still part of the Church of Sweden. Apparently, this number has been declining by 1% for the past 20 years, with Church services attracting less than 10% of the population. Free churches though, have a higher attendance rate.

Many Swedes are still considered part of the Church because up until 1996 all children were automatically included in the system if one parent was. After 1996 however, only children who are christened would be considered members of the Church. My Swedish buddy, Matilda, told me others remain members of the Church because sometimes complications with funeral services in churches can arise if the deceased was not a member.

Brief Comments on Centralized Systems

At both SLU (Sveriges Lantbruksuniversitet) and Uppsala University, students are allowed to use the public printers available at the libraries on either campus. Using the system is easy, but setting it up has been one of the hugest pains I've had to deal with while studying here.

In order to print, you need a print card, which is your login card for whatever printer you wish to use. You get this card about 2 weeks after you've begun classes and things get rolling. However, you still can't print because you have no credit on the account. To get credit, you have to add money to an online account with a company called PayEx, which acts like an online bank, which then must be linked with your university account.

Usually this would only be a moderately annoying process, but this has turned into a real project. To begin with, I was given two different student accounts along with two different P-numbers (personal number- it acts much like a SSN in the US but here it's used for many more things) and different logins. Up until about two or two and a half weeks ago I'd been using the wrong account and found this out the day I created the PayEx account. After I'd linked it to the wrong one.

I ended up going back to the IT center, asked them about the accounts and was told that they would take care to delete the incorrect one and that I should use the other. Okay. No problem. Then I had to go to the printing desk to make sure my card was switched over to the correct account and would not log me in as aute0002 instead of aute0001. Then I had to log into the PayEx system and switch the account from being associated with aute0002 to 0001.

Since this all takes some time to process (and note that Swedes have one of the MOST laid back lifestyles I've ever seen, with breaks for nearly anything you can think of), one of the administrators gave me fake money--basically adding credit to my account without money to back it up--to spend on whatever I needed to print. This was supposed to be fixed within the next few days, but a week later, I printed again and realized the printer was still deducting from the fake money instead of the 100 SEK I'd deposited initially.

What?

So back I go to SLU's campus (which, mind you, is about 6 or 7 km south of where I live) to see what the problem is. They don't know when I go to the printing desk, so the man there takes my number and says Björn (the helpdesk head honcho I take it) will call me back.

Eventually we set up a time to meet and fix all of this. That would be today at 11:00. I came back to the campus, logged in, and with his help we figured out the problem now was that because I was not a Swedish citizen and because about a week ago the government demanded that banks enforce tighter control over the security of their systems, I had to send PayEx a whole mess of information to verify my identity, including a copy of my passport.

Greaaaat.

When I left the office, I forgot a notebook there and got a call from Björn again when I was back in the downtown area. I biked back to Rackabargsgatan (the street my housing compelx is on), grabbed my passport, and headed back to campus again.

THIS time, I'm hoping everything has been sorted out. Björn complains about the centralized systems too, noting that they are safer this way, but infinitely more troublesome when something goes wrong. If I was studying here for a year or more, this wouldn't be too much of a bother, but being on exchange for only a semester means it feels like more trouble than it's worth. But hey, how else am I going to print out my Ryanair boarding passes?

An email snowballs into a post

I recently requested to be removed from the CASMP (Cornell Alumni-Student Mentorship Program) database.

Freshman year I was paired with a woman who was a veterinarian and living in NYC, which would have been perfect if I'd still wanted to be a vet, but already by second semester I knew I wanted to switch out. First, after I finished my yearlong internship with a clinic on the Upper East Side, I had no desire left to work with retarded, inbred, overly pampered creatures, each with its own 20 page list of genetic defects. Second, I love biology and I love working with animals, but if I didn't become a vet I would have to go into research, and I really don't have the temperament for research.

As the years rolled on, my mentor and I didn't really correspond at all and I still have not met her. I know she is Latina and has a young son who speaks Spanish and some Cantonese and that her husband is Chinese, but that's about it. In freshman year she told me she worked very flexible shifts at an animal hospital in the ER (I think), but I have no idea if she still does that.

In any case, I'd gotten annoyed with all the CASMP emails I was getting and decided to request that I be removed from the mailing list and unmatched from my mentor. It was getting me nowhere.

When I requested the removal, I got an email from the CASMP staff saying that they were sorry to see me go, wouldn't I please tell them why, and don't forget to send an email of thanks to my mentor. I did all of this, the second in great detail, and got another email in response asking me to elaborate on what I meant because it would be helpful.

I obliged.

The following is a copy of the email I sent. I'm posting it up here because as I wrote it, it helped me develop my ideas to an extent that I hadn't really considered before. Why did I quit? Why didn't the program benefit me? How could they have improved the matching system? I focused on the last question because I think that was the most important step. It is the first step in the program and determines quite a bit about your mentor-mentee relationship.

***

Hi Candace,

Thanks for your email. What I meant by interests was more in reference to a student's wider goals, extra curricular activities, and other hobbies.

I believe that in the long run, it is the development of a student's interests and not necessarily their major that will benefit them the most in life. It is likely any prefrosh will change their major a number of times, so only having a matching system based on what major the student chooses so early in his or her career is perhaps not the most helpful way of matching a student with an alumnus.

What I would suggest is for the student to explain a little bit about him or herself first and whether or not they could see themselves in a career that deals with this subject. For example, I have always loved animals and am extremely interested in the green movement and sustainable development. Although I applied directly into the animal science program and planned on becoming a vet, I did not stay with it. Instead, I switched to a different major (Biology and Society, AEM minor) but which was still related to my life interests.

In the event that a student decides to switch majors, even if the shift is not a radical one, I feel the most value can be gained by a pairing in which both individuals have something else in common aside from their majors. Even for students who are sure they want to stay in a certain field or major, a mentor who is not necessarily in the same field but shares the same passions, experiences, or interests would still be beneficial. At Cornell we are constantly exposed to people in our degree program, with willing professors to ask for help and cheery career counselors to read over our cover letters.

Of course networking is important as well, and I can understand that having a mentor in your degree program is extremely handy, but as I stated before, if a student changes their major, having a mentor with the same passions and goals will mean that chances are whatever contacts this mentor has will still be helpful.

I'm sorry for writing such a long email, haha. I hope it's helpful to some extent and that the program can continue to develop.

Best,

Audrey

***

After writing this email, I think that's when I really realized how important it is to stop worrying about what major you're in or what you're getting your degree in. What matters is that you are able to develop your interests and (please forgive the cliche) expand your horizons to the extent that you know what makes you happy and that you are able to find people to share this interest with and help you turn it into a career (if that is what you want to begin with).

I think I may have taken a bit too much liberty in the email and turned it into a rambling sort of "here are my thoughts...oh look this is an interesting idea I would like to explore..." but the CASMP administrator, Candace, seemed appreciative anyway. Apparently the program is supposed to encourage the mentor and mentee pair to foster a deep enough relationship so that even if the student changes majors, they still have other things to talk about and bond over. Unfortunately, they do matching by major because most students were not interested in this broader view and (she used the term "shortsighted") only saw it as a means to network within this major.

What it comes down to is knowing what makes you happy. Doing this is what makes me happy: traveling, learning, living, and writing. This is why I believe it is important to meet as many people as possible, go to as many places are your feet (and wallet) will take you, and network as far as others will support you. It'll all pay off.

Re: last post

Wow, I've just read that last post over and I must have been much sleepier last night than I thought.

I promise the posts will not fall to such substandard quality in the future.

Next up, expect a few posts and pictures about traveling in Prague with the beautiful Sarah Qiao and the Holy Roman Emperor Maxmilian Wenceslas Broad, IV.

Lappland, part II

I'm so terrible with updating this blog...

One thing I neglected to mention in my previous post was that while Megan and I were staying in the hostel in Abisko, we also took the liberty of using the sauna there. A few people who take time out of their day to wander onto skype or gchat and talk with me will have heard this story already, but for those of you who haven't, I will recount this tale of culture shock.

Megan told me beforehand that this hostel had a sauna which you could use at certain times during the day, but had to go into completely naked. "Sure," I thought, "Sure, why not? It's cultural and it could be fun! I don't mind seeing Megan naked."

The evening I returned from my epic first day out on x-country skis, after a quick dinner and a short rest, Megan and I threw on pajama pants and sweatshirts over our birthday suits, grabbed some soap, and waited for the old man who ran the hostel. He arrived with fleece partially zipped, curly white chest hair peeking out, and a quick command for the other two travelers who had just arrived to hurry up.

A quick dash out into the snow then into the sauna entryway, slow start and rapid finish of stripping males and females, some shivering and a snatch at the small towels for sitting on, and we're finally in the hot, dark, steamy sauna.

Obviously I don't have any pictures for you guys to see, but the entire building was very cool. It was rough hewn wood painted red on the outside with the original wood visible from the inside. Wooden benches lined the walls except for the wall with the sauna door in it and deer antlers were mounted on one wall for the ladies to hang their clothes on. The men stayed on the opposite side of the room (where the lone candles were flickering by the single window) and put their clothes on the benches there.

Inside the sauna the old man (also completely naked) showed us how we were to bathe, mixing hot and cold water for us and after any of the girls washed their hair, he would command, "Bend forward, put your hair in front, use your hands" then promptly pour a bucketful of warm water over bent heads and backs.

The bench ran along the inside wall of the sauna, forming a narrow U-shaped sitting area. In the end it was Megan and myself, an American guy, a German man, two French girls and the French boyfriend of one of the girls, a few Dutch women, and maybe a Danish woman. The eucalyptus oil scented water mixed with the heavy pine-wood steam was extremely relaxing and I could feel my muscles loosening after that day's work of skiing.

After the heat got to be too much, I ran outside (still completely naked) and danced and jumped around outside on the icy, snowy porch. I didn't have the willpower to roll around in the snow (unlike the German man) or have a naked snowball fight (like the French girl and American guy), but instead ran back inside to enjoy the sauna a little longer. Megan didn't even venture past the entryway of the sauna.

The next morning, we headed out to see the dogs in the nearby kennel.

The visit started out innocently enough,

but ended up being disastrous for Megan's gloves:

The dog ran away with her glove and dumped it somewhere in one of the little wooden houses inside its enclosure.

We left Abisko that morning and headed back to Kiruna, leaving the train station and heading directly for the bus stop where we could catch a ride to the Ice Hotel.

There isn't much that words can do to describe the hotel. It was the hotel's 20th anniversary this winter, which they proudly pointed out in the ice sign in front of the hotel.

Apparently, all the ice that is used in the hotel is taken from the river the year before, sliced out of the surface of the water by gigantic chainsaw-like devices, lifted out, and placed in storage until they begin building.

They start with three different sized molds for the hotel: a large arch, a smaller arch, and a hexagonal shape. The molds are sprayed with a slushy mixture of snow and ice to form the shell of the hotel. The larger pointed arches are used to form the great hall:

The smaller arches are used for the rooms themselves:

And finally, the hexagonal shapes were used to form the small hallways:

The snow sinks and settles over the course of the winter, so the hallways become warped, the ceilings sink, and the doorways get lower and lower. The maintenance personnel will often have to re-carve the doorways sometime during the winter, as it gets too low for anyone to walk through comfortably. Though, maintaining the hotel in general is not too difficult as each room has an air hole or two in the top and whenever they need a new layer of snow in the room for the floor, people on the roof simply shovel snow from the roof down into the hole.

The artist suites are the rooms you see in photos with incredible ice and snow sculptures in them. Some are a bit freaky (in one room there was a giant girl's head made of snow and in one giant hand she held a huge ice teddy bear and the other was in the process of reaching towards the bed) and others are cute or amusing (one was an Ice Age themed room and another had naked women in it with light-up nipples). All of them were amazing though and I found many extremely beautiful.

Here are a few:

The rest of the photos are on my facebook

All of this is, of course, much better when you see it in person.

There was also an ice chapel, but it was in use the entire day because three different couples were getting married in a row. There was also a reindeer outside the chapel to pull the new couple around in a small sled:

We also stopped in at the Ice Bar, though we didn't actually buy anything to drink. Those big furry hats were expensive enough, and I don't think either of us were in any kind of mood for alcohol so early in the day, hahaha.

The bus took forever to come pick us up, so by the time we climbed up into its warmth, we couldn't feel our toes or move them.

Unfortunately, it was too cloudy to see the aurora that evening as well, so we didn't manage to see it at all during those 4 days. During dinner, the American guy, French girl, Megan, and myself all hung out in the hostel we (by coincidence) were all staying in and flitted between the Aurora Sky Station site and ChatRoulette.

We became friends with a native of Kiruna who was a friend of a friend of the American guy and who the next morning drove us to the airport. He also drove us around the city for a little tour that evening and hung out. He was the one who mentioned the marshmallow fluff and Anna Nichole Smith show which I discussed in an earlier post.

By the time we got to the airport, Megan and I were basically half dead and passed out in the plane. I got this photo of Lappland before I lost consciousness though: