Chocolate in the Autumn

So, things that happened since last time:

1. My paper on Hybridity was written, submitted and has been accepted.
2. The guy picked up the 'phone and texted.
3. The interview was conducted, transcribed and summarized.
4. Ricardo to made some sense.

Unfortunately I decided that the guy really wasn't worth the effort (what kind of guy dates women with any self respect when he's simply waiting to marry his currently absent ex?) and am waiting for him to arrange our second date so I can tell him it's a bad idea and see you around sometime.

Next, I'm sat here at work trying to understand Negri on Keynes and, naturally enough, reaching for the bar of Maribou chocolate in my desk drawer. As I munch slowly, I recall a conversation with my mother recently in which I bemoaned the lack of decent chocolate in Sweden. Alright, so there's expensive stuff at 30 Skr for perhaps 200g, but I'm a girl. Realistically I'd spend most of my wages to achieve that chocolate induced haze of contentment as often as I'd like.

She was joking that she'd send me a rescue package with some Cadburys' Milk chocolate. Just the bar. Oh God yes please.

In a slightly related story, Tescos have security tagged their Cadburys' stock. Well, if you must loot...

Right, back to work.

The colours here are lovely, hence the sparkly new and updated look to my blog!

Things that I would like today:

1. My paper on Hybridity to write itself.
2. The guy to pick up the 'phone and call.
3. The interview to conduct itself.
4. The guy to realise I'm English and therefore extremely unlikely to call him, even if I was madly in love (I'm not).
5. Ricardo to make perfect sense.

As you can tell all of these require other things to happen for me. Why am I so lazy? Well right now I feel like I've been flattened by a hormonal, tired wreck of a truck. Next week I start my second bout of Swedish lessons, except (whoopee!) the level I signed up for has been cancelled so I've been bumped to the more advanced level.

Urgh. Bed, wherefore art though so far away and behind so many deadlines in my future?

No Yorkshire puddings for me!

Despite spending 5 days in the UK I failed spectacularly to find anywhere serving Yorkshire puddings. I did however fit in a fantastic curry and a wonderfully large volume of real English beer.

Oh, and I did some work too.

I got enough observations for the basis of not just one paper, but several, as the entire dynamics of the project changed entirely. Jättekul!

It's actually a little odd to spend a few days in close proximity to a group socially and to study them as objects. I should probably note here that whilst the people are fascinating it's the project I'm studying. Anyway, everything seems quite exciting and my boss seems rather pleased with the data I collected - he even went as far as saying that I had a good observation eye, although presumably that's in the plural and he doesn't think I'm blind in the other.

Anyway, off to shop for a housewarming party :)

Airport Joys

I'm sat here in Arlanda getting a crash-course from some posh Southern t*** about how the education system in the UK has been the sole cause of the economic crisis. Ha. If only he knew a contradiction to his entire argument was sat behind him.

From this moment on I shall swear to know nothing in full. As he is proving, a little knowledge makes a huge prat.

Anyway, although the next few days are due to be extremely daunting I'm bound to learn something interesting. At the very least it's a challenge, so I should develop personally alongside the study.

I hope also to gain the trust of the engineers. I feel that life will be easier for everyone if we feel a freedom and comfort to talk about what is happening and why. David has some interesting theories on how the economics might be a factor. More on that later, if it proves to be a correct direction.

Aah, back to England. English tea. Fish and chips. Sunday roasts. Yorkshire pudding. Pie!

LSD

LSD is the drug suspected to be responsible for the delight of Alice in Wonderland. Today though I'm trying to read it in Swedish - Alice i Underlandet. It's actually even more trippy.

The reason for my sudden increase in desire to understand Swedish is a lecture today in which my colleague and lecturer announced that he would be delivering the course in Swedish. Thankfully the other students failed to turn up, so I have two more days to become fluent. I'm not entirely sure how Alice i Underlandet will help me discuss Research Methods, but something has to sink in surely? In addition my supervisor is delivering a course beginning on Thursday which discusses the philosophy of innovation - in Swedish.

This week I feel unnaturally tired and quite lazy. Only the thought of saving for flights home at Christmas - and shopping in Stockholm beforehand - is preventing me from leaving my Goddamned bike at home and catching the bus. Yes, today I was knocked off. If you're driving around a roundabout what do you not expect the car at the next incoming road to do? Stop halfway into the roundabout perhaps? Well, some lovely Swedish lady just stopped her bike straight in my line of cycling and then excused herself by saying she wasn't sure what I was doing. I guess the indication, gaze and general straight line in her direction wasn't clear enough.

Later this week I should be on my way to Southampton for a conference. It's on wave power so the details of the presentations are likely to go over my head but it's a good chance to get a stronger connection with the research team I'm researching and also a better understanding of the technology area.

At the end of next month I'll be in Finland and fingers crossed I'll have an interesting paper of my own to present there. I'm quite excited as I've never been to Finland, although I did live with a Fin for just over a month when I arrived here.

Last week I attended the NFF conference at Stockholm Business School. It was a wonderful mix of established researchers and PhD students presenting their latest thoughts on a variety of management subjects. Along with the presentations, which gave me a few ideas about how to pursue my own project, the social events made me feel a tad guilty. I guess it's time to start earning your place when you find yourself on the guest end of a gala dinner in Stockholm City Hall, surrounded by gold mosaic and tasting fantastic food.

Incase you were interested we were served with a sour cheesecake and caviar, sirloin steak and the best potato gratin I have ever eaten (sorry Ulla, yours is delicious too) and finished with a strawberry centred peach mousse with handmade marshmellow and vanilla ice cream. Add in a glass each of Champagne, white wine, red wine, dessert wine, coffee and copious amounts of beer in a bar in town later and I'm very, very happy that someone had more faith in me than I did.

I think tonight an early night and an early start tomorrow to begin making my time here count...

Things to learn

Life is about learning as far as I'm concerned.

Learning is rarely painless though, and often fraught with the risk of embarressment.

One such learning curve began a few weeks ago, when I decided to meet a friend for coffee in the town centre. It was a beautiful day, hot and sunny with no breeze - perfect for a bicycle ride.

Unfortunately I had selected a wonderfully floaty dress. Being something of a doom-sayer I hurriedly looked up how to cycle without flashing your knickers. Although mine were clean I wasn't too sure the inhabitants of Uppsala needed to see them today. Cycle carefully, knees as near as possible, sit on any excess skirting and you should be fine. A sit-up bike is advisable. Hmm. Well, I figured that if I sat as straight as possible on my ladies standard style bike I'd be at least halfway there.

I sat carefully on the seat, pulled my skirt over my knees and set off. As I hit the main road I realised the folly of this adventure lay not in the skirt but in the delicate fabric crossed around my bust.

Yes folks, you guessed it. My dress wasn't designed for leaning forwards.

So, determined to arrive on time I continued, one hand on the handlebar, the other alternating between pulling my skirt down and the cross-over bust tighter and up. As the chiffon slid merrily up over the underskirt for the umpteenth time it dawned on me that I was fighting a losing battle.

I gave in.

So, to all of those poor, damaged eyes witness to my spotted knickers and the indecently uncovered bra, I apologise.

The coffee by the river was though fantastic.

Home... and thinking

Home. It's a funny word. I use it freely, casually, to refer to the place I rent, the place I sleep, the house of my parents - hell, I've even used it to refer to the home of a friend with whom I am not staying.

But what is the true home if you have so many?

I am happy in Sweden. I wake in a comfortable bed, cycle to work in whatever clothes I feel like throwing on. I read things which interest me, surrounded by people who challenge and inspire me. I shop for food I enjoy, cook whatever I like and have the freedom to enjoy my spare time.

Here in the house of my parents though, I feel unwilling to go back.

To be here is easy. It's a life filled with people I love and can rely on. In Sweden life is different. I don't understand a lot of the world around me, linguistically or socially. The people around me are not close friends, although I feel that they could be.

I don't think I love the country as much as I should. I know it's only been four months and that moving abroad is difficult but it really IS difficult.

Perhaps I'm weak, or allow my weakness to rule in too many instances.

Beds, bedding, mattresses

Exciting stuff indeed.

Well, I reached the grand old age of 25 without getting to buy my own bed, but now I have my chance. Being me though, I could not possibly take that chance in the relative safety and simplicity of an English bed. Oh no.

I had to move to Sweden, sleep on a rather uncomfortable day bed for 3 months first.

Without a clue of what I was letting myself in for I went to Ikea. I took along moral support in the form of Peter and Ulla. I'm not entirely sure what they thought when it became clear I was completely out of my depth, but I'm fairly sure it was more along the moron than the funny line.

So, who knew you could buy a mattress bottom, a mattress and a mattress topper to make up a Swedish bed? I was a little amused by the thought of a Princess and the Pea scenario, but apparently it wasn't funny enough to share.

I had my heart set on a lightweight metal frame, a slatted base and a mattress. Simple.

No.

Far better is a mattress with the mattress bottom built in, with legs to screw in the bottom. Excellent! Cheaper and faster. But then you have to find a skirt for it. And then a mattress topper, because the mattress-with-the-base-built-in might not be comfortable.

I have no idea how I've slept all these years...

Subconscious sense of humour

Yes, I apparently have one.

Despite trying to learn Swedish (and avoid all other tempting languages to prevent confusion) I found myself reading , Mauss the other day... and not bothering with the English translations for the phrases which were deliberately left untranslated. Now, I'm not saying they were particularly complicated pieces of French, but when you suddenly turn into that horrid person who reads French philosophy in French it mostly fucks with your head.

Doing it in Sweden just takes it to a whole new level.

To then continue on to Wittgenstein and understand the German as well, well you can understand my bewilderment.

Considering I have not developed a penchant for thick lenses (contacts, ta very much), starched blouses and ballooned trousers I can only come to one sickening, awful conclusion.

My subconscious brain has a somewhat sick sense of humour.

Yes that's right, Broca's area, ignore the wishes of the conscious mind to speak Swedish fluently and instead decide in your infinite wisdom to activate indiscriminately the various language memories stored away. Excellent.

Which brings me, not at all neatly, onto my thoughts on being a native English speaker abroad. English is the common language amongst all people here, as despite a huge wealth of language ability the majority of people are about to speak English to a very high standard.

As an English speaker this does have numerous benefits. People switch to my language automatically when I struggle in Swedish. It's easier for me than for a native French speaker for example, who must switch to another second language when struggling with Swedish, rather than his own native tongue.

The downside though, aside from people assuming that you are indeed the gospel on all things English, is that people become reluctant to talk. They seem to be worried that I might judge them or their ability in English. As a result, often I feel like an unwanted guest to a conversation, that perhaps my native tongue acts as a shackle for the ideas and thoughts of others present.

Months later...

Alright, not months. But time enough that I feel that slight pang of guilt for neglecting my avid readers. Ha!

Well, I decided to spend my birthday in Portugal. I was a little hurt at first that Liz didn't want to come and see my new home - perhaps afraid that it was too pretty, the men too attractive or the sun too warm? - but gradually it dawned on me that whilst I have become accustomed to wandering in a fluffy dressing gown down four flights of stairs to take a shower, guests would not be. Add to that, 18 sq. foot is not an area conducive to peace and fun for two people.

Luckily, I have signed for another apartment and am due to move in on the 1st July. That's only a week away, but I have many decisions to make in the meantime. The first, obviously, is which of the offers for help I should accept. When moving here 4 months ago I would not have thought that I would have friends, let alone a colleague offering potential help with a trailer, a brand new flatmate (Swedish as well, so my language skills should, fingers crossed, improve) also offering help, a couple of "adoptive parents" and their whole family welcoming me with open arms. For a country where the people are described as stand-offish and cold, I feel this is rather an insult to those I have met. Either that or I have been uncharacteristically lucky.

The second decision, since I have no furniture of my own, is what to buy from the Mecca of cheap möbler, Ikea. For instance, in a room 2.3m x 4m, is a double bed too big? Is a tall chest of drawers, which I can double up as a dressing table, a good idea? After this, should I buy a double mattress (if I choose a double bed) or two single mattresses (which would be easier to transport)?

Today I am listening to Swedish radio on the suggestion of my supervisor. I rarely understand the words, and those that I do understand are spoken so quickly that to grasp an idea of the context is impossible - thus currently I do not get much out of it. I'm hoping though that the sounds and intonation will imprint upon my memory and that as my vocabulary grows I will naturally understand more. I had a half day when Swedish was the only language available to me and those around me - a deliberate attempt to get me used to speaking it. I found myself gagged metaphorically by my own inabilities, and my brain tired far too easily. I imagine it's like a muscle though, which through regular training can grow and gain stamina. To really confuse things, colleagues at lunch were keen to ask how to express certain ideas in English correctly and to switch between the two languages because physically uncomfortable!

Valborgs Day

Today is Valborg's Day, the last day of April. It's a particularly big deal in student towns in Sweden, of which Uppsala is one.

Traditionally, the day starts with a champagne breakfast, location non-specific. I had mine by the river, in anticipation of the rafting race, an event premiered by the engineering department in the 70's. Unfortunately, the crowd was large and the view was extremely limited so a large amount of the time I spent watching the crowd instead and debating whether the Germans behind us were serious about dumping us in the river to get a better viewing spot (they clearly didn't know we could see nothing too).

After the raft race, the students head to a large park and picnic for a few hours. More champagne is traditional.

At 3pm, the rector gives a speech from the library balcony. We went, listened to a song and watched white graduation caps being waved (including grannies who had graduated some years ago) and there was no speech. I wouldn't have understood it anyway...

The next excitement is the champagne gallop. Has a theme emerged yet? The students run to the nations, pay 100 Kr and party in the courtyards, spraying champagne everywhere. As expected, this leads to everyone being soaked and clothes being removed. It was 9 degrees Celsius. Unfortunately, the reason everyone runs is that there is a maximum capacity and there are far more students attending than are able to go.... so naturally we didn't go.

I say we, because I spent the day with some exchange students I met through one of my Swedish class friends.

Watching all the festivities, particularly with foreign exchange students, made me feel even more of an outsider than I've felt here before.

I do not belong.

How much can we belong anywhere though? I did not belong in Manchester, or Derby, or Stockport or London.

Belonging or not though, I'm not going to sit here and feel sorry for myself.

There is a choir performance at the castle tonight and some of the people I was with today are going to listen. I popped down to the shop to get some sweets to share tonight and on the way out bumped into 2 of my neighbours here - 2 tall, cute Swedish guys. Yummy. Apart from a "hey!" we didn't actually speak, even during the elevator ride down to the front door.

Ah Swedes, how I loathe your lack of chit chat. I also loathe my own lack of it, but that's beside the point.

My champagne is still un-popped.

Birthday drinks?

A good day today

It's a pleasant change.

Elena from my Swedish class suggested since there is no language class tomorrow that a few of us go out for dinner instead, which is good. There was a little panic when it looked like I'd need to shell out 200Kr just to get a guest pass for the student nations (maybe I'll explain that one day), but a few emails back and forth and the concencus is that if I take my PhD contract to a nation tomorrow evening I can become a full member right there and then.

In a better mood, I got on with some reading, found a few courses to look at in more detail, then cycled home. Unfortunately my bike has decided it likes 2nd gear a little too much, and has been stuck in it for the journey home.

When I got home I popped on a new exercise DVD (which is the lamest thing a girl can do and make public) and watched in horror as I failed pretty much every coordination activity on there. Oops. Anyway, 40 minutes (ish) of farting around pretending to dance in Brazil was amusing and deserving of far more than a wholewheat pasta and tomato dinner (no cheese) with a natural yoghurt and jam desert. Followed by this lovely glass of wine.

So the funny little Brazilian man on the DVD (so gay he's almost bent back round straight again) sounds a little like Borat. Hearing him promise me I'll have the body of a Brazilian beach babe in that voice is somewhat amusing, as I doubt he'd know a beach babe if he tripped over one.

My legs feel a little sore, but that's possibly a good thing since my thighs and arse are my (biggest) problem areas.

Next on the list tonight: Swedish grammar.

It's funny how when I'm more cheerful I get on a small self improvement drive. It only lasts for a few minutes, but that's a few minutes of improving myself, right?

Funny sort of day

Two posts in one day... is this a record for me?

After my post this morning I went to shower, checked my post and happened to notice my bike wasn't where I had left it. I walked around the garage in my dressing gown looking for it - no sign.

Hmm.

So after my shower I went walkabout looking for it.

I found it.

Chained to someone else's bike, outside, Odd. So I wrote a note requesting that they unlocked it, and chained it to the fence. By 8pm it was free, so I took it back into the cellar - then realised they had stolen my basket.

Bastards.

Anyway, following a thoroughly miserable day alone in the flat (would have gone into town but my face is sun allergied at the moment) I broke open the bottle of white mum bought me.

Tastes good.

With my chocolate easter egg and Sammy online things are looking up.

I'm wondering though, why when we are alone or stressed we think of people we loved. I'm not thinking of my last boyfriend, nor the one I was with the longest. I'm thinking of that all-important first one who I can only assume is not interested in talking to me. I keep wondering what would happen if I told him I still loved him... although I clearly don't, it's just a chemical need to feel close to someone and he was the only one I've felt amazing with.

I wonder what brilliant things we would get up to in this city, how we would laugh at problems rather than sit alone and wonder why I bothered coming out. He would dispel my thoughts of self doubt, encourage any ideas of adventure and push me.

Then I think that although it would be lovely to be with someone with his energy, intellect and honesty, I'm here on my own. I got here on my own. I made the decision to come here alone.

Okay, so I'm not living the high life or surrounded by friends, but hey, it's going to get there.

Sometimes though, I want someone just like him.

All alone again

So my parents came, saw, went across to the summer house, then left. I feel down, alone and frankly like giving up.

I know it will pass, this time next year I'll be happily sipping coffee on a balcony somewhere enjoying the spring sunshine from behind my factor 50+, sun hat and shades.

Today though, I feel empty. I feel like I can't go outside and walk past those happy people sat on the lawn outside my apartment block.

Potentially there is an apartment to rent which I can view this week. I'm still looking for apartments or houses to buy... but the list of barriers is just getting longer and harder to justify overcoming. I'm even considering a houseboat on the river, but suspect that that option comes with an even longer list of prohibitives.

I made use of the car with my parents and went to visit Peter and Ulla, then managed to squeeze in a trip to IKEA to get a duvet set and towels for any potential guests here. Unfortunately, neither of my potential English guests have been in touch for the last two weeks, prompting a whole range of negative thoughts and possibilities.

Living here alone though is teaching me an important lesson in life. Quite a few actually. One, set your alarm clock because no-one else is getting you out of bed.

In all seriousness though, I'm beginning to understand that you have to separate the logical, true thoughts from the self doubting, negative thoughts by yourself. You have to view yourself through an internal mirror, not the external one your friends provide. Finally, if you feel crap, you have to pull yourself out. Nobody is going to rescue you, so you become your own knight in shining armour. The best thing about this is that gradually, the knight gets stronger and braver. She might have her off days, but she's growing and changing and developing.

Of course, you then have to remember that distinguishing an entirely separate person within yourself is the beginning of insanity.

So at 2pm, I'm going to have a shower in the basement, scrub the sleep from my eyes and get on with my day.

6 weeks in...

For those not following my life outside of the blog, I had been deliberately keeping quiet about the career prospects away from designing play equipment.

In November 2010 I had an interview in Sweden for a PhD position, and at the end of February this year I packed my life into a huge wheeled holdall and moved abroad.

It's a big change, not least the language (of which I knew little), the culture, the weather, the isolation.... I enjoy my job. I get paid to prod at engineers and their projects. I get money to better myself, learn new skills and experience something completely different. I am employed to get so excited about the strangest things.

There is a lot to talk about, but the most important thing I think is to explain why I think this may be simultaneously the best thing that has ever happened to me and also the biggest mistake of my life.

By the end of this 5 year period, if I'm successful, I'll be awarded a PhD. I'll have lecturing and course design experience. I'll have experience of supervising Masters students. I'll speak another language. I'll have grown as a human being, opened my mind to new ideas and ways to communicate them. I'll have observed and reported on some truly spectacular events.

I'll be employable.

But to do that, I've had to leave behind everyone that I know and be somewhere alone. Sure, we have technology and flights aren't too expensive, but that doesn't help ward off the feeling that I'm voluntarily throwing away something really special in the hopes of becoming something better. Isn't that a little selfish? All we really are as human beings is a piece in a complicated structure of relationships in all their variety. The most important are those with our family and close friends, because they are the ones that will remain in our hearts for as long as we have the capacity.

I have a wonderful loving family, and two amazing friends who have been by my side through some great times and some pretty awful times. To leave them behind feels like I am cutting off my arms.

The stupid thing is that I know it's only 5 years. I know that even if it was 10 or 20 years those relationships would stand the test, would be just as rich as they are now. Those people would be disappointed if I chose to stay in a humdrum job in my home city just because I was clinging to those relationships, hell I'd be one of the first to help a friend pack her bags if she was choosing that over a life changing experience. I also know that if I stayed, they would not necessarily have made the same decision when their time came - currently one is about to move 200 miles North for a PhD, so I know what her decision would be.

Maybe though, like now, it feels like the most stupid decision I have ever made.