Sunday, July 21, 2013

Home Again, Home Again Jiggity Jig.


I never thought these words would leave my mouth…but now they finally are. I’M HOME! I keep thinking about the endless times I caught myself daydreaming about being back in my own room, laying in my king-size creaky antique bed surrounded by my violet purple walls and the sound of the crickets chirping outside from the pond. Towards the end of my 10 months in Europe, I really started to miss home, I have to admit.. I felt accomplished and fulfilled.. like I had completed every crazy task and seen every mind-boggling thing possible…been through every scary, awkward, insane, exhilarating and of course joyous moment possible for a 19 year old in Europe. And I wanted home.

And finally, body achy and throat dying from over-work at a final week-long trip to Hungary for an electronic music festival and 4 days of camping, I walked off the plane in Boston. As I ambled out of the arrival exit, lugging my two impossibly heavy suitcases, and saw my mom and aunt jumping around and waving at me over the heads of the crowd, I felt an immense wash of relief over my body. Finally seeing family there for me, people who really cared about me, felt simply amazing. I realized that this was what I had been starting to crave these past few months. I was finally starting to feel the need to have someone there who I knew really cared, who really loved me. And the only people like that in this world are your family members. I can’t even explain how good the feeling was to see them there. Even though I wasn’t quite home yet, it sure felt like it.

And here I am now, sitting at my desk, staring at my bulletin board covered with racing patches and numbers from my track & field days in high school, my memory board from my graduation party last summer, covered with goodbye and good luck messages from my friends, the glass donation jar  from the International Service club I ran last year, textbook laying upon textbook...AP US History, Chemistry, SAT practice. And I can’t help thinking to myself, did this year in Europe actually happen? Staring at my room and all these reminders of high school…it just feels like I never left. Like this year in Belgium was just some really long, fantastic dream. And now I’m back in real life, getting ready for more textbooks and fundraising and sport training. Did I really leave this stuff for an entire year? Is it really possible, that I just kind of forgot about it all? I guess it is…

But the good thing is that I have countless ways now to remind myself that this past year actually did occur. My mom opened my large carry-on suitcase and exclaimed, “Margot, you have more mementos in here than actual clothes!” Yes, I did bring home every club card, wristband, pin, postcard, picture, train ticket, note, drawing, business card and anything else that had any sort of reminder of something I did that year. Mementos
are honestly the best reminders. They are a reminder enough that you remember that you were there, but they are vague enough to make you have to think hard about all the events and worth-recounting things that happened while you were there. It is sometimes an even more fulfilling experience than looking at pictures. Because it really forces you to remember…and then you recall things that happened that pictures would have made you skip over. Oh and yes, the postcards I collected (I have one from very country I visited) are for making a collage on my dorm-room wall and causing jealousy from all my roommates. (just kidding…maybe).

Well, during my very short 2 weeks here in America, I am trying to fit in doing as many American things as possible before being shipped off to Canada. Yesterday I went to the Saratoga County Fair with an old friend and my sister… Let me tell you, fairs are probably the most American you can get. Just two words: fried oreos. Not to mention the fried Kool Aid, Reeses and PB & J… And all the spinny rides that make you throw it all up. And the pig races, lumberjack olympics and bad comedy shows. And all the fat people who spend the entire week at the fair. (I swear they do...that’s why they have showers right next to the bathrooms). Yes, I am really throwing myself back into American culture. I feel like I am kind of obliged to do that...after leaving my home-country for 10 months. Today I am going to the horse races up in Saratoga. Still have to make it to a few more of my favorite ice cream places (I have a lot). Better get on that… The Country Drive-In is calling.

Keep checking my blog because I will try to keep it up throughout my time at school in Vancouver. Sure to be more exciting stories to share!


Til next time!

Friday, July 5, 2013

Past Memories: French Class with a Gay Frenchman and the Belgian Beach!

This is an old journal entry from the beginning of June, however, I thought I would still post it since I don't want it to go to waste and I think it's a nice one to share :) Enjoy!

Setting the scene: I am sitting on my white couch in my bedroom on a Sunday evening, the window above my head (which has a perfect view into the house of our neighbors across the street, but also of the tall glass Midi building and the 5th biggest church in Europe off in the distance) cracked open and a cool breeze blowing on me J Someone is playing saxophone outside on the street.



Friday June 7th, 2013
In the morning I had my French class (Fridays are conversation classes with this funny old gay man who insists on us calling him Mauriceart. He is always very well dressed and coiffured, his perfectly white hair combed back and wearing his designer classes. He loves to crack jokes and bring up the most random vocabulary…like for example some strange phrase you use for a house-warming party but actually talks about a pot you hang over the fire. Or slang for eating (bouffer) or penis (zizi).
He also loves to talk about how he is a socialist and gay. I think he is one of those people who accepts that they are getting old, and therefore think they can say anything and no one can tell them that they are wrong. He especially loves to talk about how people in Austria are conservative (there is an Austrian women in my class and he is always making fun of her to her face because her husband works for Nespresso and she doesn’t work at all (and he finds this much too luxurious), calling her Mrs. Nespresseo and her husband Mr. Clooney.



In the school (which is basically just situated inside an old Brussels house with a long, creaky wooden staircase and oriental throw rugs everywhere) they have 3 little hairy dogs who run and sit around wherever and sometimes wander into the rooms during classes. They run under our tables, begging to be petted and be fed speculoos cookies (A Belgian spice cookie we get with our coffee during our break in the class…we are all served a complimentary choice of coffee or tea…very luxurious this school). Anyway, when they start to get too annoying, Mauriceart shoos them out. All is has to do is simply point to the door and they run out...he is obviously their master.
Anyway, after French class, it was such a beautiful warm day (a rarity here in Brussels, especially for this year since it was the greyest and rainiest they have had here in the past 20 years) I decided to spend my free hour before picking Niki up to bring him to his dentist appointment laying the beautiful Park Tenbosch.








It is a small park, but very green and laden with many different trees and plants and colorful flowers. And it has little winding stone paths all throughout it, and large areas of grass with trees around so you have the option to lay out in the sun or under the trees in the shade. When I got there, I was surprised to find it quite full with people, especially men in suits who were probably spending their lunch break there. Belgians really know how to relax. They know they need to take advantage of the sun when it is there, and they can easily just drop whatever they are doing, forget their worries, and spend their lunch break enjoying the sun. That is something I would really love to learn how to do. I’ve realized from these last few months living here that I am one of those people who always has to be doing something productive, and if I’m not, I just can’t concentrate. I can’t relax. That is what happened when I went in this park..I laid down in the grass, ready to read my book, when I suddenly realized I just could not concentrate on it. I just kept thinking about all the other more productive stuff I could be doing, like cleaning my room, writing in my blog or studying French. I really need some tips from a real Belgian. Walking in the park, looking at the people just simply laying there and enjoying the sun, I was so jealous that they could simply let themselves go like that! I mean, they could still be worrying about something in their minds and I wouldn’t be able to tell, but still...they sure seemed pretty relaxed to me. Anyway, I am learning. I forced myself to just lay in the sun and not read or do anything. I even ended up taking off my jeans and laying in my underwear...thank god the park is quite private and I was behind a bush. But still, I don’t think anyone even blinked an eye when they walked past me. People are so open here with their bodies...no one cares about showing off a “private part.” They are also very lenient about sex. I mean, there is a poster which seems to be hanging on the wall in every corner of this city with an ad for some Belgian sex TV show, and had a picture of a naked couple in some weird sex position with the man eating fries.. I can’t even imagine the uproar if that poster was even flashed in the public in Clifton Park, NY.. Oh the horror!


Even Oli and Sylvia are surprisingly very lenient about sex . The other morning, Niki came over excited to the breakfast table holding a little book and shouting, “Look what I found in the treasure-room! (The treasure room is technically the guest room, but Niki likes to go there sometimes to look through all the old books stashed up there to find “treasures” about the house (he thinks pirates used to live here, since the house is so old..110 years) Anyway, Oli grabbed the book out of his hand and looked at it, beginning to laugh. “Ah, it’s one of my books from my adolescent years!” , showing it to Sylvie. Niki grabbed it out of his hand and said, “Oohhh what’s it about??” He can’t read, and probably just picked it out since it was a mini “pocket sized book” and had cartoon drawings. Thank god he can’t read though, because when I pulled it out of his hands and read the cover, I was a bit shocked. The book was titled, “Sex Positions” and had a happy couple on the front, in some acrobatic position. Wow… Oli then says, “Yes, I had much different interests back then than I do now!” We all laughed and I put the book to the side, trying to keep it away from Niki.


Another incident was when I opened Manda’s (my best friend from NY) birthday package for me at the breakfast table in front of the whole family. Of course, the letter, which was INSIDE the package, only at the very end, said to open it in the privacy of my bedroom. Oli and Sylvie were staring, excitedly waiting to see what my best friend sent me. But then, as I pulled out the card, three  condom packages fell out on my placemat in front of me. I looked down, completely embarrassed, feeling the redness creep across my cheeks. But Oli and Sylvie just laughed, and when the kids asked what those things were, Sylvie simply replied, “survival things for Europe!” laughing to herself. Phew. Thank god my host parents are so accepting..
Last night, as I was preparing the boy’s school lunches in the kitchen, I was shocked to see Oli casually starting to take off his black work suit pants in the middle of the dining room after dinner… He was talking to Felix, yelling at him for being so messy. I guess he considers me as close enough to being part of his family that he can walk around in his underwear when I am present. Should I feel good about this? Not so sure…

Anyway, Friday night I went to a party called Aperos Urbain, which is basically supposed to be a “chill” after-work party organized by the city in a different park every Friday. But this one was a bit different than the others... it was the night of the soccer game with Belgium against Serbia, and there was a big screen with hundreds of beer-drinking Uni age Belgians surrounding it, screaming and yelling every time a Belgian player got the ball. In the end, we won (for the first time in the past 8 years) and everyone went insane, jumping around, waving flags, blowing horns, dancing on the port-a-potties, lighting red firebomb things and cheering and chanting. It was quite a scene! After, I was invited by JT to go to an exclusive party on the island there on the lake at Borde de la Combre, which has a very nice restaurant/bar called Chalet Robinson. I was lucky enough to be put on the DJ’s guest list thanks to good-ol’ JT and got to save the 15 euros entry fee and still get a free glass of Cava. I felt very special walking in there and telling the hostess that I was on the guest list. It’s great to have high-class connections J
Belgians cheering on their team. The only issue with this scene is the giant Corona bottle...eh hm, shouldn't that be a Stella Artois or something??

Fan dancing with flag on top of the port-a-potties 

On the boat heading towards the island!

One of my Finnish friends, Minja!

The party was in a beautiful spot, with candles lining the large wooden terrace and lounge chairs out in the grass by the lake, where you could watch the lit-up little boat carry people to and from the island across the still, dark water, and see the lights glitter of the surface. And you could hear in the faint distance the DJ starting up the dance music.


Saturday I got up relatively early to meet Felix at the train station. We were going to Oostende, one of the beaches on the Belgian coast, with some other Finnish au pairs. I love travelling with Felix, he always has crazy ideas and makes everything fun. (For example, on our way out of the train station, he decided to take the “up” elevator down...and force me to do it with him. The elevators were full and everyone was chuckling at us).

Chilling on the platform waiting for the train!


  Oostende was much more beautiful than I expected. I thought it would just be some empty coast with rocky sand and ugly apartments lining it. But no, the city was very nice, with little streets lined with palm trees  and barley any cars. The harbors were full with beautiful big boats and giant, very-healthy looking white seagulls were flying in every direction, stealing the little shrimps, a North Sea specialty, from people eating them out of little plastic cups for lunch on the boardwalk. 










A big Ferris wheel stood at one end of the boardwalk, and then the beach started, and went on for kilometers! And the sand was soft and fine, not like I expected. Of course, it was quite windy (which I did expect) and therefore made it a little too chilly to lie on the beach. Later on in the day, we found one area of the beach where they had these wind barriers made out of cloth. When you sat just behind them, they were perfect for cutting the wind.


The water was much too cold to go for an enjoyable swim. There was no one in the water, and not even anyone in a bathing suit...except for a few small children. Our group was a bit disappointed because we were really looking forward to a real day on the beach, swimming and all. And, we didn’t let the wind or the cold water stop us! Felix convinced me that we had to swim before we left, just to say we did it. So, we went the Belgian way and grabbed some warm beers at the grocery store, drank them to make us a bit warmer and ready to tackle the water. Then we threw our bags on the sand, stripped off our layers of sweaters and pants, down to our bathing suits and then raced to the water, running over the dunes, and jumping into the waves. People from the beach and on the board walk started at us, obviously thinking we were crazy for going into the freezing water. But it felt great. OK, maybe I couldn’t really feel anything because my legs turned numb, but just the feeling of being in the North Sea, the cold slapping me in the face, it made me feel invincible.



After, we discovered that the giant sand dunes were perfect for jumping! They were super high, and when you ran and jumped off the edge of them, it felt like you were flying.


After, we walked down the rest of the boardwalk, eating ice cream and waffles. We passed an old stone palace with lots of arches. It looked lovely against the sand and water. I just recently learned that the palace was built by King Leopold II of Belgium right after he started making a fortune off his colony--the Congo. He built palaces and beautiful public buildings (this one was supposed to have a spa and museum) all across Belgium. At one point, the beach had a bunch of little white beach houses, most likely for all the German vacationers who come there in the summer. They also made great wind barriers. The Finns had to leave, so at this point it was just Felix and I. We laid down in the sand behind the house, the sun perfectly beating down on our faces. I sat there for a good 15 minutes, just listening to the sea and feeling sun on my face, mediating a bit. After a little while, Felix piped up and said he had some cool ideas for photos. This is where he made the “clone photo” of me.





Felix is basically like my German brother. We have so much fun together and he is just awesome. He is one friend I made here who I hope to keep forever!






 Now, here are some recent pics of the boys I thought you might enjoy:

Felix turning into a real Belgian, enjoying some fries. I discovered this tiny little fry shack  right down the street from where I live. I can't believe I didn't find it earlier..but I guess it is quite hidden and really small! You can't even tell it is a fry place until you are standing right next to it! But the fries are really amazing..I think the best ones I've had here. What makes Belgian fries so good is that they fry them twice-once at a low temperature and then again at a higher temperature. And don't be fooled by a false American name--fries come from Belgium and ONLY Belgium. The story behind the whole "French Fry" thing is that some American GIs were located in Belgium and got hungry--they were given fries. They found them quite delicious and wanted to bring them back to the states. But they needed a name...they thought "Well, where are we? People are speaking French.. guess we are in France. Let's name them french fries!" But oh they were so wrong..they were in the French speaking part of Belgium! And now they have turned fries into a very touchy subject here in Belgium. If you ever say "French fries" in front of a Belgian--RUN!!!!



Joans made a pac-man out of his favorite French cheese!



Dad stopped by on his way to work in Dresden. We spent the time walking around my commune and enjoying the impressive Art Nouveu houses (there is a famous one called Horta House which was built by Victor Horta-a famous architect from Ghent, Belgium. We also enjoyed some tasty Belgian beers and went to a club that night.

Clubbing with dad... I never thought this day would come!
This past week, the special Brussels Medieval Festival--the Ommegang--took place. It is a very old tradition, which tarted in 1549 under the Emperor Charles V. They do their best do re-produce it as closely to the real thing as possible. Here is the history, taking from the official website: (http://www.ommegang.be/index2.php?idx=23&lg=en)

"The expression "Ommegang" meaning "procession" is derived from the old Flemish words "omme" (around) and "gang" (walk).

Several Belgian cities had an Ommegang particularly in Flanders. They were always characterised by fervent religious faith, and also included a large, opulent secular participation of the guilds, crafts, and chambers of rhetoric. 

The cloth industry had made Brussels rich and tradesmen consorted with the best of society under the supervision of the Amman, an officer of the Duke of Brabant. He owed his authority and competence to the fact that he presided the City Council, saw to the execution of orders and commanded the sergeants at arms.

 As tradition would have it, Beatrice Soetkens., the wife of a poor workman in the cloth industry, heard voices one day. She learned that the Virgin Mary, Mother of God, wanted to reward the town of Brussels, and particularly the Crossbow-men's guild for having built a chapel in her honour on the hill at the Sablon. Beatrice was given the mission to go to Antwerp and bring back the miraculous statue of the Virgin venerated there as Our Lady of the Branch (O.L.V. op 't Stokske). 

These voices totally upset Beatrice--she could do nothing but obey. She hurriedly rowed to Antwerp with her husband, and ran to the cathedral to get the statue. The Sacristan tried to stop her, but how could he resist divine will? 

He was petrified on the spot, voiceless and motionless! 

Beatrice returned to the boat in her haste to get back to Brussels. But her husband quickly tired of rowing against the current and the wind. Fortunately the Lord was watching--the boat floated upstream to Brussels on its own volition and landed on the spot where the crossbow-men of the guild were practising. 

Intrigued by the arrival of this tiny craft glowing with an unearthly light and piping sweet music, they questioned Beatrice who recounted the cause and circumstances of her expedition to Antwerp. 

The event was deemed a miracle. Even the townsfolk of Antwerp who stormed to Brussels, agreed that it was extraordinary. They consented to leave the statue at the Sablon to be venerated there in the chapel. In addition, a solemn promise was made to erect a church worthy of the event and to organise an annual procession to carry the Virgin around the church under the protection of the Great Crossbow-men's guild.

So the Ommegang was born!

The origin of this famous procession was indeed the expression of religious fervour supported by a military authority. Gradually the Ommegang became a great town event. Civil authorities, the crafts, chambers of rhetoric and the guilds took their place in front of the clergy. 

It became the magnificent pageant celebrated through the centuries to modern times. Like every year, the " Ommegang Oppidi Bruxellensis" Royal Society continues in the tradition of these centuries-old pageants with historical reference, in the incomparable setting of the Grand-Place of Brussels."








Show in the Grand Place


The costumes these people were wearing were really impressive! I have never seen such a precise representation of such an old tradition. It really felt like you went back in time while you were watching!

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Famous DJs, Salty Licorice and Lots of Ficka--A Stockholm Adventure





Stockholm…probably the most beautiful capital city I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. Before I went, I had no idea that it was even based around the sea, let alone surrounded by islands. The city reminded me a bit of Hamburg, but more pretty and the people are completely different. I thought the whole blonde/tall thing was an overused stereotype. But, no...it’s surprisingly true. When you walk through the downtown shopping area, I’d say about half the people you pass are relatively tall and blonde. The other half is mostly made up of tourists...so there you go. Not all stereotypes are untrue.

Anyway, it was a happy surprise to see how most of the city was on the water. Walking along the harbor area, I passed some big old wooden ships and men repainting them with white-wash. On the other side of the water were beautiful old apartments and fancy hotels, all made of beautiful gray stone or painted in bright colors like orange, yellow and red.


View from the top of the Stockholm City Hall

On top of city hall!


My first day, I started off by exploring the Galma Stan—the Old Town of Stockholm. It sits up on kind of a hill in the center of the city, and is amazingly well preserved. The houses are all different pastel colors, wooden with beautiful carved, stooping roofs. Antonia told me that they are actually a German design, since the Germans were the ones who actually turned Stockholm from a small town into a big, bustling city. They even started the first real secondary school is Stockholm, and it is still one of the best. The school is German, but many Swedes go there since it has such a high reputation. And yes, all the classes are in German. Both Antonia and her sister went to the school, and therefore they both speak German and Swedish fluently. I think that is such a good idea- putting your kids in a foreign languages school so they can be fluent in more than just their mother-tongue. I think I will do the same if I ever have kids. (I have been doubting having kids ever since I have become an au pair… The work load they incur is unbelievable. But we’ll see if I change my mind).

Anyway, I explored Glama Stan, passing the palace, which is huge and makes up a kind of wall separating Galma Stan from the rest of the city. I was lucky enough to catch the 12 o’clock switching of the guards. It is very traditional ceremony similar to what they do in London. A group of guards dressed in the Swedish flag colors (blue and yellow) come out from behind the pillars, raising their swords and shouting something in Swedish. They march around, and then split apart, marching to opposite ends of the big square in front of the palace, towards the guards standing in their boxes, waiting to be switched. What I found really interesting about this whole scene was that there was one single women soldier out of the group of about 5 soldiers, and she got to lead off half of the group, leading the chants and all. It was quite interesting, considering it is such an old tradition and is followed as rigidly as possible to when it was first started back in who-knows-when. I guess it was just really nice to see a women leading… I think Sweden, and many of the other Nordic countries, is much more ahead in sexual equality than many other developed countries. They seem to be much more socialist in general. I was talking to my au pair friend Minja a couple of days ago (she is from Finland) and she told me that the runner-up for the next Finnish leader was gay and from the Green Party. This just shows how liberal and open they are there. She also told me that Finland is very strict about keeping religion separate from the government. This means that they have already had a number of leaders who were not even religious. That would never happen in the US! It amazes me that a modern country like the US can’t achieve the same. I mean, it makes sense, you even see proof that this way of running the government works quite well. The Swedish government barley runs into any issues. The general well-being of people in the country is one of the highest in the world. I was in a taxi one night, returning home from a party in Stockholm, and when the driver found out that I was American, he started on a long rant about how he thought the US social security system was totally wack. It amazed me that he knew so much...I think this Swedish taxi driver was more informed about the issues of the US government than a typical American.


The Palace

View from one side of the palace




Me on palace balcony (the guard was checking me out, I swear:P)



Anyway, I wondered the little cobble stone streets of Galma Stan, looking into the old Stockholm cathedral and this impressive statue of a man fighting a dragon,





 exploring some little stores with handmade jewelry, crazy style clothing, as well as more traditional stores selling the typical wooden, brightly painted horse statues (called Dala horses or in Swedish, Dalahäst. They get the name from the region of which they originate—Dalarna).





 I enjoyed some real Swedish ice cream, trying some traditional flavors like lemon curd and salty raspberry licorice. Swedes LOVE their licorice. Especially this really salty kind called  salmiakki (that is actually the Finnish name, but Swedes use it too..it actually means Ammonium Chloride in Finnish, because that is what is used to make the salty taste!). It’s black and looks like normal licorice but in small pieces, but when you suck on it, this strong saltiness comes out and tingles your tastebuds. It sounds gross, but it is actually quite good! They also have an even saltier kind, which is actually covered in salt crystals…that one is a little TOO salty for me, but Antonia loves it. Guess that shows that I am not a Swede.


The ones in the lower-right hand corner are quite intense...and they are they first ones I tried!




Alleyway of Galma Stan


Funny trashcans in Galma Stan




I walked out of the Galma Stan, coming to a bridge leading to an area called Sodermalm. I had read that there was a famous herring bar there which sold, apparently, the best fried herring in Stockholm. The piece of fried fish was served on a toast of rye bread, and covered with a mustard sauce and red onion. The flavors wen well together and it was quite delicious.





After tasting my first real Swedish herring, I explored the Sodermalm area, which is like the “Soho” of Stockholm. Basically, Stockholm is divided into two very different areas, each with very different types of people. In Sodermalm, which is technically an island connected to central Stockholm by a bridge, the type of people tend to be more “hipster”, laid back, wear vintage clothing (but are still very fashionable, or course. If they weren’t, then they wouldn’t be Swedish). 

Then, you have the people who live downtown, who are a bit more “stuck-up” and like to show off their money by wearing expensive designer clothing and hang out at exclusive bars and beach clubs by the water (of  course Stockholm has many). Antonia of course brought me to one, called the Strand Brygga  (The "Beach Pier"). It was on a floating dock right next to a bridge connecting downtown Stockholm to a green island where some museums are. The beach club had a big white bar with expensive drinks, and then a bunch of orange lounge chairs looking out over the water. It was a very sunny, warm day, rare for Sweden, and so the place was full--full of people wearing designer sunglasses and posing in the sun, drinking their pricy cocktails. Antonia ran into a few of her friends there, including a very attractive man who she later told me was the best friend of a world-famous DJ. And I shook his hand! And then we ran into the manager of Café Opera, the most exclusive club in Stockholm (where Antonia works as a hostess). He was a fat man, wearing a pink button up shirt (which was only half buttoned, showing his hairy chest). You could tell he was loaded. Just the way he sat there in the sun, enjoying his classy drink and having no worries other than how tan he would get. He was friendly though, and was happy to hear that I would be coming to Café Opera that Wednesday night, for their famous mid-week party. Antonia told me that she always finds him at the beach pier, just chilling in the sun. He doesn’t really need to work since he has so many people doing his work for him.


Of course, you can’t generalize the different areas of Stockholm, but actually, for the most part, the type of people and where they spend their time usually go together.

Anyway, in Sodermalm, I wandered around the town a bit, then walked out to the edge of it, facing the city. Sodermalm is quite up high on a cliff, and I discovered a nice walking path following the edge of it, with a great view of the rest of the city, especially the distinctive Stockholm City Hall. Take a look at pictures:




The City Hall


View of Sodermalm from across

 Stockholm is made up of many different parts, each with their own feeling. You have a shopping area with all the unique, Swedish designers and fancy malls. Antonia brought me to one that was quite cool actually, called Mood Mall. It was probably the artsiest, chill mall I have ever been to, but still very big. The little art designs all around were very tastefully made, with modern statues and an iron pipe design snaking along the wall, connected to a spout where you could fill your water bottle. And all these designs were just there to make the mall more appealing to the eye. When I compare this mall to an American one…well you actually you can’t compare them… Let’s just say, American malls are built for practicality. They are there for getting your shopping done. They are built for crowds of people running in all directions, pushing each other around to get the best sales. But this mall was designed for a pleasant, relaxed shopping experience. All the stores were unique designers and there were no extra advertisements or loud music—just simply the quiet singing of birds over the speakers. There were large cafes and Asian restaurants inside (Swedes love their sushi, Antonia says that it is her favorite hangover food), as well as outdoor terraces with houses on stilts with views of the city, which you can rent out and sleep in!



Shopping street

Anyway, then you have the “fancy” part of town on the water, where the apartments that cost billions of Swedish Krone stand, and the most exclusive clubs (Café Opera, for example, which is attached to the Opera house), and the Royal Park.





View from island


Royal Park





 Then you have Galma Stan, which I mentioned earlier. You have the part with offices and such, and a beautiful library in a park. 




Library



And THEN you have all these little islands all around, of which some are connected by bridges while others only by ferry. One of the largest is called Djurgården and it is mostly trees, very green, of course, and contains a couple of museums (including the Abba museum) and Skansen, an open air museum containing lots of original Swedish houses and a zoo.



Visiting Skansen :)


My Swede with her moose!

Doesn't this picture look so much like stereotypical country-side Sweden...


May-pole! They actually dance around this at midsummer, which is not in May, but the end of June. It is the longest night of the year..the sun never sets! Girls wear white dresses and flowers in their hair, and everyone in the city goes to the country to have a party in big open fields and dance around these poles (while drinking, of course).


Another small island has Stockholm’s very own amusement park, and another very small island hoses the Modern Art Museum, the architecture museum, and a few other attractions all tucked into greenery and lots of trees. Another thing that makes Stockholm so unique—most of its museums are in a quiet, green place away from the craziness of the city. That is something a really loved. In 10 minutes, you can walk from a bustling downtown shopping area to a green island getaway where you can enjoy quiet and nature. In how many cities can you do that?

On the way to the museum





View from island

View from island

famous ship


One day, I met up with Antonia after her work at Hollister, and we went to her boyfriend’s bakery downtown for a “fika.” “Fika” is something Swedes love to do. They do it every day around 3 in the afternoon. Can you guess what it is? It’s basically an afternoon coffee and a small something to eat. And Swedes do it religiously, every day. Antonia says that’s what she always did with her friends after school. They just said, “Fika everyone?” and went to some café downtown to enjoy a coffee and Kanelbullen. So, she brought me to what she considered the best bakery in Stockholm, to try some Swedish pastries. One kind of looks like a cinnamon roll, but seasoned with cardamom instead of cinnamon, and not as sweet (this is what a Kanelbulle is). Another specialty is these chocolate balls, which are basically dark chocolate mixed with some kind of flower and rolled in coconut shavings. Swedes normally call them, rudely, “nigger balls.”




Thursday afternoon, I took the train to Gavle, two hours north of Stockholm, to visit my friend Nicole. She went to school with me in New York, but her family and Swedish, and so she decided to move back to Sweden for her studies. She lives on a beautiful big lake. The house is quite modern looking, but all made of wood. And Nicole and her brother each have their own little houses in the yard, separated from the main house, where they sleep. They also have their own kitchens and bathrooms…very cool. A good way to practice living on your home, while still having your parents right there across the yard. Anyway, the first night, her mom welcomed me with a homemade meal of Swedish meatballs, steamed potatoes, pickles and lingonberry jam. It was delicious and actually really nice to finally have a warm meal at the dinner table. I’ve forgotten how cozy it is for the family to sit around a freshly cooked meal and enjoy it. Here in Brussels, my host family eats Abendbrot, which is basically bread with cold meats and cheeses. That is very German. Germans eat a large, warm meal for lunch and a small, cold dinner. I think it’s a fine idea, but personally I enjoy sharing a warm meal with the family. And I am really looking forward to that when I get home!!


Anyway, Friday night, she invited some friends over and we had a BBQ, then started up the sauna (her dad built a traditional wood one, in its own little Swedish house right next to the lake. It runs off real wood logs, which you light and then blow air on with one of those weird air bowing things that you squeeze and they look like an accordion kind of.) 
Sauna house

View from her house!

Look at this beautiful lake!







At 11pm, the sky was still light. I couldn’t believe how big the giant, white moon was--hanging directly in the sky over still, dark blue water. 






Suddenly, Nicole suggested that we go swimming. I first I thought she was joking, but when she kept asking, I realized she wasn’t. Then I thought about it a little more:  I mean, we do have the hot sauna to jump into after.. So why the hell not? I have to be like a Swede and ignore the cold. In the winter, Swedes love to roll naked in the snow before going in the sauna, so why am I being such a wimp about going in the lake? We put on our bathing suits, took one deep breath, staring out at the frigid-looking water, and then ran in. My legs numbed up immediately. I waded deeper and deeper, trying to ignore the cold stinging my legs and arms. I felt revitalized, looking up at the beautiful big white moon, the tall pine trees on the islands, sitting a little ways out in the lake. I breathed in the fresh, clean air. I hadn’t smelled such clean air in a while...living in Brussels, or Belgium in general, you don’t have the luxury of unpolluted air. I looked back towards Nicole’s house, and noticed that she had already ran out of the water. I started to wade back after her, but then she yelled, “no, no, stay! I have to take a picture of you!” She  grabbed my camera and snapped a few photos of me.  Then, I ran out, excited to relieve my freezing body with the natural warmth of the sauna. What a true Swedish experience: ) We went to bed at half past midnight, and the sky was still light. I don’t think it was ever completely dark the entire night.



When we woke up, Nicole made me a traditional Swedish breakfast (basically, it’s what she eats every morning, along with every other Swede in the country). Can you guess what it is? Because I couldn’t have...


Caviar. Yes, fish eggs. Fish eggs from a tube. You can buy these giant tubes of caviar for as little as 3 Kr. And Nicole told me this interesting story about the brand of Kavier she had (which was the most famous one in Sweden). On the tube, there is a smiling, very blonde and very blue-eyed boy smiling—the  symbol of “Kalles Kavier.” Apparently, there was a bunch of controversy over the past few years about the company’s logo. People were saying that is was racist having such a “typical” Swedish boy on the tube. Swedes are very much against racism. They are very open, almost too open, some people think, to immigrants, and letting them peacefully join their society. They hate it when people talk about the as being the perfect example of Aryan race.

Anyway, I had never had caviar in my life…and I was a little hesitant about trying it. But, I am adventurous, and always up for trying new things, so I let her prepare me the traditional way of eating it. Basically it is a slice of white bread which you then spread with butter (I also learned that Swedes have a very special knife which they ONLY use for butter. It is a dull knife, made of a light colored wood, and usually has some kind of design carved into it), and then caviar on top of that, and then, this special soft sausage cut in slices, and laid on top. The sausage is mild and wrapped in a red coating. Not sure what it is called, but it is also a very common Swedish food.


Well, the butter-caviar-sausage bread tasted AMAZING. Perfect for when you wake up really hungry in the morning and craving something salty (kind of like when Americans wake up and eat scrambled eggs and bacon). The caviar is very salty, but has a yummy fishy taste that is somehow addicting. I had to bring a tube home for the Kochs. Sylvie was very surprised, I think, that it was in a tube… But she tried it. I couldn’t tell if she liked it, but the next few days, I was the only one who seemed to be eating it. Then, a week later, when I was looking for it in the fridge to make a sandwich, it wasn’t there anymore. Sadness… could she have really thrown it away? Could be… Sylvie has a fear of eating food that’s gone bad, and throws things away much too early. It’s quite a waste actually. Especially because caviar can last for a while, when you have it in a tube.

That morning at Nicole’s, we feasted. We also had yogurt (very different from American yogurt, more liquidy (it comes in a milk carton-like container) and a sour taste…and even the strawberry one is not very sweet. But that is the way I like it. And usually it is eaten with muesli (a mix of oats, nuts and dried fruits).


Nicole and I both took the train back to Stockholm on Saturday morning. We were heading to a big “Day Party” on an island in Stockholm, which Antonia’s boyfriend organized (he is not only a baker, but also a famous event-organizer, who would have ever guessed?) The party took place at a fancy restaurant/bar with a giant outdoor terrace looking out over the harbor and the Baltic Sea spreading out beyond. Palm trees encircled the VIP terrace, which stuck out the farthest into the water. Wicker couches with plushy, white cushions stood everywhere, filled with pretty girls dressed in short, delicate summer dresses and big sunglasses. They surrounded glass tables, each one with a giant ice bucket in which laid the biggest bottles of champagne I had ever seen, and surrounded by fine-looking drinking glasses. Wealthy looking young men wearing light colored button up shirts stood at the tables, smiling at the girls and pouring them more and more champagne. A DJ played blasting house music in the background, and every time the music hit a climax, smoke would burst out of a pillar and into the sky. 
Nicole and I in Stockholm

Nicole and I walked into the crowd of amazingly beautiful people, finding Antonia, who was dressed in a pure white, long dress and wore a crown of fresh flowers on her blonde head. She looked so Swedish, it was almost too much. She pulled herself away from some young man, who she later said was another famous DJ, and came up to us. She gave us blue VIP bands so we could get onto the terrace. We chatted quickly, and then she flew off, talking to other guests, sipping from her gin and tonic. Nicole and I could feel people staring at us as we walked over the bouncer guarding the VIP area. But I noticed that we weren’t the only ones being stared at. Actually, everyone was checking everyone out. You don’t notice it at first...people do it nonchalantly. But it’s quite obvious once you start looking. This was a party where you go to be seen. You go to check others out. Find a hook-up or a good connection. This was a real Stockholm high-class party.

Me at the party, being obviously checked out by that girl behind me...

As the day wore on and evening came, girls were getting obviously drunk, and guys were getting very happy. Suddenly, I saw coupled passionately making-out on the sofas, and some girl’s dancing wildly around to the music, their round breasts popping out of their dresses. Apparently (according to Antonia and my own eyes) girls in Sweden tend not to wear bras when they go out. Why? Antonia says it looks better…but only if you can keep your breasts cold so they stay firm. Not sure how that would work if you are in a warm club all night, but alright. All I can say is, these girls at this party were really following the no-bra rule, and the guys were loving it.


Well, that was the end of my Sweden experience. After a nice lunch with Antonia on Sunday, it was my flight home! All I can say is, “LET’S FICKA!” 

If you would like to see more pictures from my trip, please check out my album labelled "Stockholm" on facebook!