Actual Reflections on Sweden
I was just watching the Swedish election debates and it occured to me that I haven't actually posted much about Sweden and the Swedes themselves. Thought I'd rectify that situation.
To begin with, the debate between the Prime Minister and the conservative leader of the opposition was a fairly illuminating glimpse into how actual democracy works. Amazing to watch two guys with actually different policies (gasp!) having a civil, rational discussion about the economy and the environment, rather than our system in which two multimillionaires stand around saying, "Well, I think we should grind up all babies and print money on their skins," while the other guy says, "That's crazy! We should also grind up old people, the infirm, and homosexuals!"
It's become clear that I live in a fairly exceptional corridor. I'm told the Swedes have a well-deserved reputation for being standoffish and brusque, but the people I live with are as outgoing as they are logically imbalanced. Ten of them are Swedish, from various parts of the country, and they are all entertaining, interesting, well educated, polylingual, atheistic, and attractive. Except for Rikard, who is kind of strange-looking. The other Swedes I've encountered have proven to be friendly, though in a vaguely fatalistic way, and they seem to universally speak fantastic English. They also have all proven to be well-travelled, and ethnocentric without being patriotic. They are proud of their country and can list any number of famous and important Swedes, but I have yet to meet a single Swede who thinks the Swedish system actually works.
A few things really slay me about this place. They all always stop for pedestrians--apparently, there's a law that they have to do so. They love to sing drinking songs. They don't stand in line; you have to find a little ticket machine (this process is something of a national sport), which is always cleverly hidden behind a potted plant or an old woman or something, and then you just mill about aimlessly, not talking to anyone, till your number is called. They get very excited about crayfish parties (kräftskiva) at the end of the summer, although none of them actually seem to like to eat crayfish.
This, incidentally, was the reason for the apocalyptic party we had Friday night.
Dramatis Personae
Benny- I've mentioned before. He's a second-year law student who once served in the Swedish military and was elected platoon representative. Yeah, apparently here, the soldiers elect their leaders and only do what their told if they can reach an agreement with the officers that's to their liking. I guess this works if the last war you fought was in 1814. He and I used to sit around and talk politics for four or five hours a day, but he's been rather standoffish lately. He has a girl named Myckes (I think) who comes over and lives in his room every weekend, whether he's home or not. She assures me they aren't a couple, which I think is grand, as she is arguably the hottest person anywhere in the world. There's a picture of her in there, but she's actually in mid-sneeze, so it's the least flattering picture of her possible. This is to prevent breaking the Internet.
Tove- is very athletic. She's absurdly attractive, though instead of curving outward at her hips, actually seems to get skinnier. She sort of tapers from her shoulders down to the point of her feet, leaving her with the scrawniest hips of anyone I've ever seen. She has strange, tattooed, drunken friends and she loves nothing more than to sing a drinking song called "Bordeaux, Bordeaux."
Hannah- I know nothing about. She cooks good tacos, is friends with Tove, and has cleavage you could swim in.
Robert and Rikard- Robert I've mentioned before, I believe. He's the one who took the Trans-Siberian railway to Vladivostok, then hitchhiked to Beijing, Ho Chi Minh City, and finally Bangkok. He's got a great story about blacking out and getting robbed by a gang of elderly, toothless whores in Ho Chi Minh City. He's friends with Rikard, who has reason to believe he may in fact be black. Rikard also has obscenely rich parents, which is why he has a weed connection, a big plasma-screen TV, and twenty-eight pairs of shoes. And he's pretty much the worst cook in the world.
Emma- is crazy. When I first met her, she was balancing two inches of ash on the end of her cigarette, was scratching her ass with one hand and gesturing with a bottle in the other. She said, "I'm not athletic like Tove, I just smoke and drink beer." She loves Bill Hicks and Queen and is pretty far to the left without knowing many of the particulars of it. She's fucking a Dutchman in the next corridor, which is too bad.
Mohammad- I tried to get a picture of the little guy, but he's a goddamn ninja. He just appears, silently, eats cream cheese, and vanishes again from whence he came. He could be here right now and I wouldn't know.
Martin- eats birdseed, and that's all I know.
Kristina- is great looking from the neck down, but goddamn hideous everywhere else. She's some kind of physics/math double major, and doesn't actually like talking to "people." I'm told she's easier than a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, but she's been pretty standoffish to me.
Julia- is the other exchange student. She's from somewhere in The Netherlands with a lot of guttural consonants. I know that really narrows it down. She's 21, got her Bachelor's already, and is in the midst of her Masters in law. She wants to be a corporate tax lawyer and has a squidgy boyfriend, which is too bad, because she's goddamn gorgeous.
Otherwise, little else to report here just now. Pictures here.
To begin with, the debate between the Prime Minister and the conservative leader of the opposition was a fairly illuminating glimpse into how actual democracy works. Amazing to watch two guys with actually different policies (gasp!) having a civil, rational discussion about the economy and the environment, rather than our system in which two multimillionaires stand around saying, "Well, I think we should grind up all babies and print money on their skins," while the other guy says, "That's crazy! We should also grind up old people, the infirm, and homosexuals!"
It's become clear that I live in a fairly exceptional corridor. I'm told the Swedes have a well-deserved reputation for being standoffish and brusque, but the people I live with are as outgoing as they are logically imbalanced. Ten of them are Swedish, from various parts of the country, and they are all entertaining, interesting, well educated, polylingual, atheistic, and attractive. Except for Rikard, who is kind of strange-looking. The other Swedes I've encountered have proven to be friendly, though in a vaguely fatalistic way, and they seem to universally speak fantastic English. They also have all proven to be well-travelled, and ethnocentric without being patriotic. They are proud of their country and can list any number of famous and important Swedes, but I have yet to meet a single Swede who thinks the Swedish system actually works.
A few things really slay me about this place. They all always stop for pedestrians--apparently, there's a law that they have to do so. They love to sing drinking songs. They don't stand in line; you have to find a little ticket machine (this process is something of a national sport), which is always cleverly hidden behind a potted plant or an old woman or something, and then you just mill about aimlessly, not talking to anyone, till your number is called. They get very excited about crayfish parties (kräftskiva) at the end of the summer, although none of them actually seem to like to eat crayfish.
This, incidentally, was the reason for the apocalyptic party we had Friday night.
I think the pictures below convey the evening better than any story of mine ever could. Suffice it to say there was a knife fight, and we made the papers. I'll try to get a picture of it or a link, though it'll be in Swedish when/if I do. (Edit: the article is here.) There was a certain degree of happenstance involving Imperial Russian stout, Czech absinthe, and Swedish vodka, and now I think Martin hates me because of a certain liaison with a certain Finnish girl I guess he liked. Also, I think someone stole my glasses. The 2:00 PM breakfast of hot pizza eaten in the cold wind on the terrace outside pizza/kebab joint across from ICA where we all sat around, stunned and still drunk, our eyes glazed and our jaws slack, was one of the most purely existential moments I can remember.
Dramatis Personae
Benny- I've mentioned before. He's a second-year law student who once served in the Swedish military and was elected platoon representative. Yeah, apparently here, the soldiers elect their leaders and only do what their told if they can reach an agreement with the officers that's to their liking. I guess this works if the last war you fought was in 1814. He and I used to sit around and talk politics for four or five hours a day, but he's been rather standoffish lately. He has a girl named Myckes (I think) who comes over and lives in his room every weekend, whether he's home or not. She assures me they aren't a couple, which I think is grand, as she is arguably the hottest person anywhere in the world. There's a picture of her in there, but she's actually in mid-sneeze, so it's the least flattering picture of her possible. This is to prevent breaking the Internet.
Tove- is very athletic. She's absurdly attractive, though instead of curving outward at her hips, actually seems to get skinnier. She sort of tapers from her shoulders down to the point of her feet, leaving her with the scrawniest hips of anyone I've ever seen. She has strange, tattooed, drunken friends and she loves nothing more than to sing a drinking song called "Bordeaux, Bordeaux."
Hannah- I know nothing about. She cooks good tacos, is friends with Tove, and has cleavage you could swim in.
Robert and Rikard- Robert I've mentioned before, I believe. He's the one who took the Trans-Siberian railway to Vladivostok, then hitchhiked to Beijing, Ho Chi Minh City, and finally Bangkok. He's got a great story about blacking out and getting robbed by a gang of elderly, toothless whores in Ho Chi Minh City. He's friends with Rikard, who has reason to believe he may in fact be black. Rikard also has obscenely rich parents, which is why he has a weed connection, a big plasma-screen TV, and twenty-eight pairs of shoes. And he's pretty much the worst cook in the world.
Emma- is crazy. When I first met her, she was balancing two inches of ash on the end of her cigarette, was scratching her ass with one hand and gesturing with a bottle in the other. She said, "I'm not athletic like Tove, I just smoke and drink beer." She loves Bill Hicks and Queen and is pretty far to the left without knowing many of the particulars of it. She's fucking a Dutchman in the next corridor, which is too bad.
Mohammad- I tried to get a picture of the little guy, but he's a goddamn ninja. He just appears, silently, eats cream cheese, and vanishes again from whence he came. He could be here right now and I wouldn't know.
Martin- eats birdseed, and that's all I know.
Kristina- is great looking from the neck down, but goddamn hideous everywhere else. She's some kind of physics/math double major, and doesn't actually like talking to "people." I'm told she's easier than a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, but she's been pretty standoffish to me.
Julia- is the other exchange student. She's from somewhere in The Netherlands with a lot of guttural consonants. I know that really narrows it down. She's 21, got her Bachelor's already, and is in the midst of her Masters in law. She wants to be a corporate tax lawyer and has a squidgy boyfriend, which is too bad, because she's goddamn gorgeous.
Otherwise, little else to report here just now. Pictures here.
posted by Eccarius | 12:48 PM
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