My country is the world and my religion is to do good.

I just listened to a clip from the Dalai Lama and he spoke on the importance of inner values. Religion, continent, skin color, economic status aside. We all individually have inner values we could (I’ll avoid saying “should”) agree on that would make interaction with one another much more peaceful. I started this blog just spewing disagreeance with many things I’ve been experiencing lately. Most of it petty. I came here with the idea in mind that experiencing a new culture and being around people from such an array of ethnic backgrounds would teach me acceptance and tolerance. I had to be reminded of this mission. 

The last couple of weeks have been great but nonetheless I find I’m in that strange phase where things are no longer new and exciting. I’ve begun to settle in and the differences are common occurrences and most of the time I find I like the way I, and my country, do things better than the way other people do things. But the main reason for my preference is comfort… because it is how I’ve experienced life for 24 years now. It’s important to take off your shoes and try on that of another to see that they are also doing what is natural and comfortable for them. We are all a product of our environments. Comprised of the same basic components but shaped by different circumstances. After observing the differences in people, styles, systems, and forms of interaction there are things I certainly like more and things I like less. Recently I have found that the things I like less just really get under my skin. The honeymoon phase has passed and Sweden and I are fighting about who took the soap out of the shower. There are many similarities among us all but the differences are always more prominently noticed and focused on. If I was to stay here in Sweden I would eventually adjust, get used to it, and the differences I'm experiencing would become the norm. Where I have to catch myself, because I’m not staying and there is comfort in knowing things will go back to how I am used to, is when I begin to negatively judge these differences. That’s the whole tolerance thing I was talking about. The key to tolerance is taking the time to understand people and accept them for who they are, even if it is contradictory to your own beliefs. It's ok to prefer one way over another, in fact its good to know what you like and dislike for your own personal life, it is however flawed to think that your way is better and others should change. 

Instead of getting annoyed at these differences I must remember to celebrate them and smile about the fact that those very differences are what make life and human interaction so exciting. It is those very differences that we observe when entering a new culture that make you appreciate things in your life a little more, help you realize strengths you didn’t know your character possessed, and recognize areas in society that can be improved, thus business opportunities just waiting to happen. I had a great conversation with a friend during our break in class today. She summed up her feeling on studying abroad in exactly the terms I would. Your friends, your family, your habitat, your things; they all make you comfortable. But if you really want to grow as person, leave it all behind for a period of time, keep an open mind and see what happens. It is the best and most rewarding way to find out what you’re made of. 

Some quotes I enjoyed reading this morning.

The love of one's country is a natural thing. But why should love stop at the border?
— Pablo Casals

Human beings seldom step outside of themselves to really grasp the needs and fears of others. We often project our own thoughts and beliefs upon strangers, and make judgments based upon how we think they 'should' be living their lives. If only we could experience a few moments inside the feelings of another person, the world would be a much more compassionate and benevolent place.
— Chelle Thompson, Editor of Inspiration Line

Success in life has nothing to do with what you gain in life or accomplish for yourself. It's what you do for others.— Danny Thomas, Entertainer/Humanitarian (1914-1991)

If you approach each new person you meet in a spirit of adventure, you will find yourself endlessly fascinated by the new channels of thought and experience and personality that you encounter. 
— Eleanor Roosevelt, Wife of President F. D. Roosevelt, activist, UN diplomat (1884-1962) 

We will never know the difference that can be made in our life and the lives of strangers unless we choose to be open to all possibilities.
— Chelle Thompson, Editor of Inspiration Line

Ninety percent of the world's woe comes from people not knowing themselves, their abilities, their frailties, and even their real virtues. Most of us go almost all the way through life as complete strangers to ourselves.
— Sydney J. Harris, American Journalist (1917-1986)

The highest result of education is tolerance.
— Helen Keller

The greatest and noblest pleasure which we have in this world is to discover new truths, and the next is to shake off old prejudices.
— Frederick II, the Great

How do we create a harmonious society out of so many kinds of people? The key is tolerance, the one value that is indispensable in creating community.
— Barbara Jordan

I think we have to own the fears that we have of each other, and then, in some practical way, some daily way, figure out how to see people differently than the way we were brought up to.
— Alice Walker

It takes a disciplined person to listen to convictions which are different from their own.
— Dorothy Fuldman (A Thousand Friends)

Man is always inclined to be intolerant towards the thing, or person, he hasn't taken the time adequately to understand.
— Robert R. Brown

Minds are like parachutes — they only function when open.
— Sir James Dewar

People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost.
— H. Jackson Brown

*The quote in my title is from Thomas Paine.

Wishing you all a very happy Wednesday!

L

Krakow, you almost killed me.

I’ll start by just saying that had I not made a very poor decision, I would be thousands of dollars richer but lacking one hell of an adventure chalk full of life lessons. I’ll explain, but lets start from the beginning.

I made my first mistake very early on. When getting ready to leave Sweden, I thought it would be fun to leave my coat behind. It was kind of exciting to think about not needing it because the weather was supposed to be nice in Poland. So off I go in a shirt and leggings, carrying a bag full of summer clothing. I caught the Swebus to the airport Tuesday afternoon. I arrived safely to Krakow, Poland around 8:30pm. Now, remember that I am traveling without a cell phone. I had hand drawn a map of where my hostel was located from the main train station in Krakow. When I arrived, I asked some men at a desk where I was to catch the train from the airport. They told me to catch the bus and then I would catch the train from another stop. They suggested I have cash on me to pay for the ticket so I went to the ATM right next to their counter. I couldn’t figure out how much I should withdraw because I didn’t know the exchange rate. “400 zloty is about 100 Euro,” a guy says over my shoulder. American! This guy from Cali sparks up conversation and off we go to catch the bus together. He was teaching English in Spain and currently doing some traveling. He was truly a blessing in disguise.  He was obviously more traveled than I, so I followed his lead getting on and off the train. Hand drawn maps… yeah not so helpful. There were buildings, intersections, and tunnels where I was supposed to just walk a straight line. He, like most modern day folks, had an iphone and graciously assisted in helping me locate my hostel. We decided to go out for a beer so he waited while I headed up to check out my room. Sitting on one of the bunk beds was a lonely Australian/English girl who had first been put in a room with two creepy Polish men (they turn up later in my story) and then demanded a different room, landing the one I was also assigned. I asked her to join Ben and I for a drink and she gladly decided to partake. We ended up finding this really cool little underground pub where we ordered a massive tube of beer that had its own spout for pouring. After closing down the pub, I was starving and decided there was no better time than now to lose my kabob v-card. It was a deliciously memorable moment. Arguably, far more enjoyable than losing the real thing. Have a kabob kids and save yourself stress and confusion.

Now thats a face of satisfaction. 

The next day I left at about 9am to the Zakopane and Tatra Mountains. It was a 2 and ½ hour drive and after the 2^nd hour had passed I was beginning to feel the effects of last nights beverages. We drove through this really cool little town that was comparable to an Amish community. All homes were hand built with logs, no electricity is used, and they still use horse and buggy to get around. I can respect that, but going against the natural progression of life’s modern advances seems like more work than rolling with it. When we finally arrived, we took a lift to the top of the mountain. You could see mountain peaks in all directions and the city below. It was absolutely stunning. When we went back down, our group split up and we were all able to do as we pleased. I did some shopping and bought a couple of clothing items as well as a delicious Polish meal. 

On the way home I passed out in the car in order to store energy for the evening that lie ahead. When I returned my Australian/English friend, Melissa, was in the room and we made plans to meet up with Ben for dinner and an evening out. We ended up at this really cozy Polish restaurant where we were served a massive platter of meat, primarily pig, potatoes and too many horseradish vodka shots. 

It was so good and we all left completely stuffed. We tried out a couple of bars. They all began to look the same after a while. Most are underground with brick interior, crazy lighting, seating nooks and crannies, and staircases leading to balcony niches. The night ended with a dance club consisting of one lonely woman breaking it down on the dance floor. She was just waiting for some man to come take her home. We tried convincing Ben, but he wasn't convinced she was his type. I don't know.. I like the type that close down the bar and can own the dance floor independently. It says, "I don't need a wolf pack, I kick it solo."

When I met a Polish person, I would ask them to tell me something about the Polish people generally speaking. I repeatedly got the same two answers. Envious and complainers. Interesting. The economy in Poland is getting better but their isn’t much opportunity. My German friend told me that Germans were upset when they opened up the boarders to Poland because crime rates got much worse and car theft became a big problem. These Polish characteristics were unfortunate in my situation that is soon to follow…

The next day Ben and I went to Auschwitz. What an experience that was. Ben was a history major in collage and knew a plethora of information on the Holocaust. There were many things that happened during the Holocaust that I was completely unaware of. I think most people, like myself, associate the Holocaust with Germany, but Auschwitz was the largest concentration camp and death camp, killing over 1,300,000 people between 1940-1945. 1.1 million victims were Jewish but 145,000 were Poles, 23,000 were Gypsies, 15,000 POW, 25,000 were prisoners from other ethnic groups. Take a minute to think about that and let those numbers set in. That’s huge.  I also didn’t realize the victims were deported from all over Europe. From Hungry, Poland, France, the Netherlands, Greece, Slovakia, Belgium, Austria, Germany, Yugoslavia, Italy, Norway etc. as they were forced out of their home and taken to Auschwitz by train. Most believed they were just being moved to a ghetto so they all carried suitcases and some valuables. They were given no food or water on the trip and many died on the trek.

When they arrived, the weak were immediately taken to the gas chambers. False showerheads were fixed to the ceiling and the SS told them they were getting a shower as they were herded into the chamber. Approx 2,000 victims were crammed into the chamber which was approx 235 sq ft. The door was locked and the poison, Cyklon 8, was released. Those directly under the poison died immediately but it took around 20 minutes for everyone to have passed. When the chamber was opened, the victims were then stripped of anything valuable; gold teeth, hair, jewelry etc. and then transported to the crematory. Seeing the thousands of pounds of hair on display was the most shocking to me. The SS would cut the victims hair and then sell the fiber to be used for textiles. Killing people was expensive and they had to be creative to fuel their scheme. Those who were strong enough to work were kept around and housed in the barracks. I honestly don’t know how these people survived the conditions at all. The barracks felt colder inside than out and they were sleeping 5 to each bed. 

Blocks 10 and 11 were very disturbing to visit. They were called the death blocks and it was where human experimentation was done. Women were used as guinea-pigs for sterilization experiments and killing techniques were performed on all prisoners, as they were trying to find the most efficient and effective way to mass murder in the cheapest possible manor. 

I have been told many times, “The one who does not remember history is bound to live through it again,” though now that saying has taken on a whole new meaning. Continuing on a lighter note…

Ben and Melissa decided to take the night train together to Prague so we all went for coffee before saying our goodbyes. I missed my sane friends so much and had no idea once they left, shit would crumble right between my fingers.

That evening I had to move from the upstairs bedroom Melissa and I shared, to the downstairs bedroom with the two crazy Polish guys. However, there were 4 other young international students in the room as well. One of the guys could speak Polish so when the creepy Polish guy (CPG) wanted to talk with me, he would translate for him. CPG had problems with staring and because he took no precaution to be sly about looking, I knew he already had me scoped out. It started off with a hello, my name is, and where are you from which eventually lead to “have a beer with me.” After an amusing 30-minute go-around I agreed to have a beer with CPG as well as everyone one else partying in the room. 

When our Polish translator decided to pass out for the evening, CPG was left saying “mammacieta” “problemo” and “please” as well as mumbling Polish, which no one could understand. We were hanging out in the common room and I brought my computer in for music. Bad idea. CPG wouldn’t shut up about finding a song he wanted to listen to. We couldn’t understand what he wanted but when a slow song came on and he began kissing my hand and pulling me up to dance, his motive became quite clear. I told him I would have one slow dance and that was it. My sweet dance moves must have thrown him into a possessed trance because he became very possessive. We all opted to call it a night so CPG would pass out and keep things from getting out of hand. We all laid down and turned out the lights. CPG left the room for 10 minutes and came back with more beer. He sat on the side of my bed insisting I have another drink with him. I said no very sternly and said to leave my bedside. He did but then decided to try again saying “oh mammacieta, Problemo.. problemo..” I asked him to get off my bed again, but he wouldn't budge. There was no way in hell I was going to bed with a drunk, aggressive, apparently horney Polish guy sitting on the end of my bed. He was practically ready to pounce. I got up and told the front desk what was going on and she moved me to another room on the other side of the building. I don’t know what was worse. I was in this massive 12-bed room with 20 ft ceilings, 2 creepy chandeliers, enormous windows and a door that creaked open and close. There were 3 guys from England staying at the hostel as well that I had spoken to days before. I saw out the door that they were trickling in from a night out. I came out of the room and told one of them my situation. He offered their extra bed and I gladly accepted. When he couldn’t get his roommate to open the door, he went to the front desk to get a key. I sat on the stairs waiting for him with my blanket and pillow in hand. He came back with the girl from the front desk… she sees me sitting on the stairs outside my room looking like an orphan child with my blanket and pillow in hand. She asked if I was ok but I didn’t want to tell her I was heading up to their room for the night. First of all, because she might not allow me to stay in their room. Secondly, because I didn’t want to look like a hussy. After some awkward conversation she finally left and the English guy let me in. I later found out she came back to check on me and was asking everyone where I’d gone. Regardless, I was finally able to sleep.

Friday I did some shopping and had my haircut and colored. My favorite part of the day was buying a delicious orange from the market in the Jewish quarter and then eating it in the sunshine while people-watching in the park. That is one reason I love big cities. I am so easily amused by human interaction.

When I got back to the hostel I met up with the English guys and we all headed for the square where we were to meet for the tram party.

If you are family, please skip the following paragraph and continue below.

If you are friends and did not send me hundreds of dollars to correct my fuck up, please continue reading. The tram party consisted of power-hour at a local bar, then after consuming too much beer in a short period of time, everyone loads on a tram where there is a DJ and drinks/dances while the tram tours the city. Well, the tram party was amazing but in the midst of having fun, I laid my purse down on a chair, never to tend to again. In my purse was my new camera, iphone, wallet with cash, credit cards, student cards, etc, and last but certainly not least, my passport. Why I thought it was a good idea to bring EVERYTHING valuable, I’ll never know. I got off the tram without my purse and it has yet to be found. For future reference, take a copy of your passport, not the actual thing. Most places will always take cash but not every place takes a card, so take enough cash for the evening and leave your cards at the hotel. Don’t take all your cash with you incase it does get stolen. Have enough stored away in a secret place so you’re never without, regardless of the situation. It is always best to walk around with as little as possible. Mainly to avoid having to hang on to it and worry about where to put it, but also to give those looking for people to steal from as little incentive to steal from you.  Oh, and when traveling in a foreign country, take it easy on the booze. Being wasted in your hometown is very different than a country in which your language is not the local tongue and being unaware of where you are can leave you easily open to harms way. Had I followed the advice given in those last few sentences, I would not have been in the same situation. I thank God for being with good people and one particular English guy who got me home safely despite the fact I might have, quite possibly, not really sure, but I think most definitely.. puked on his lap.

When I woke up Saturday morning, the day my flight was to leave, the English guys and I tried contacting the party tram guide and the people who clean the tram at the end of the evening. They said nothing had been found. First, I went to the police station to make a report. Luckily there was one guy who could speak English and helped me out. He said to go to the embassy with the police report and they’d take care of me. That was, of course, just way to easy. The embassy wasn’t open until Monday. I called the emergency number and a nice lady, Ann, told me there was nothing they could do over the weekend but that I should do a money transfer at the Western Union so I’d have money for food until Monday. Failed attempt number 2. The banks closed at 2pm on Saturday and it was just past 3. It became apparent I was going to miss my flight and have to wait until Monday to get a temporary passport. I couldn’t move hostels because I didn’t have any money or credit cards, but the hostel I was at had my card number on file. However, they had no room. The English guys said I could crash in their room again, so that is what I did. They went out to enjoy an evening of dinner and drinks until 2am and I enjoyed an early night in, something I certainly deserved after the prior nights fiasco. When they came home they were anything but sober and had the energy of 3 year olds. It will go down as one of the most hilarious displays of drunken behavior I have yet to witness. Two of the guys played this game where they were spies and crawled all over the room, hiding from me and avoiding my spotting them. As I dozed in and out of a sleepy state I would see them doing the weirdest shit, hiding behind curtains and army crawling across the floor. Around 6 am I woke up to one of them half way under my bed. I gave him a massive wedgie, twice, and I guess that meant their defeat because they passed out shortly after. In the morning I helped get the guys packed and out the door because none of them were in very good shape to get shit done. They were off around 8:30am and I had a full day of nothing ahead. While sitting in the common room I spoke with the one crazy Polish guy left who had medical problems. He told me about some business deal he had done with a man in Krakow who ripped him off and had taken his $8,000, which to him, was one full years pay. His English was sparing so it was hard to put the whole story together but what I took away from our conversation was that I should not get worked up about my things being stolen, as this man had lost every bit of savings he had and didn’t know how he was going to pay for further medical help. The day consisted of similar self-reflection as I strolled around the city in the afternoon. It was kind of a gloomy and windy day, I was without a freakin coat, and for the first time ever, I had a little taste of what it felt like to be hungry and have no way of getting food without begging for money. I am grateful for the experience and the way it unfolded. I have so much to be grateful for and can’t imagine having hunger and the inability to acquire money be a prolonged and unknowingly indefinite time period. It was empowering to go through the experience on my own without a friend or man to lean on. To know you are strong enough to make it alone is invigorating.

Monday morning I woke up early and arrived at the US Embassy around 10am. It was the biggest relief to walk through those doors. There was this very tall, 50ish, somewhat overweight man who was helping me. He was so kind and sympathetic, a grandpa equivalent and the kind of man you just wanted to hug. I had held my shit together until he asked if I had money. When I said no, he asked how I’d been eating. That’s when the tears began to roll. He slipped 50 zloty ($15) under the window and told me to go get some coffee and something to eat while he worked on my passport. In the waiting area, there was also a guy who was 20, from Guam, and studying abroad in Rome. He went on a trip with some friends and didn’t lock his locker correctly and had all of his things stolen, including his passport. There was a very upset 27 year old girl standing in line at the window next to mine. She looked exhausted and couldn’t stop crying. I asked if she was ok and if she was hungry. She said yes and I told her I’d be back with coffee and pastries. Guam guy and I walked down the street and found the perfect bakery. I spent my money on 3 coffees and 6 different kinds of delicious pastries. We all three starving, passport less, American kiddos feasted. It was a long awaited moment.

Getting the passport and then doing the cash transfer pretty much took all day. 

At 6pm we all three found a hostel and booked a 3 person room. Luckily, the American girl had an extra sweater she didn’t care to give up and donated it to the keep-Lindsey-from-freezing-her-ass-off-in-Krakow fund. We decided to go out and have a drink and eat perogies. After all, we were stuck in Poland. After a good night sleep, we all three woke and went to breakfast. A proper Polish breakfast and countless coffee refills. We sat and talked for over a couple of hours. We went around and around about when and where violence is acceptable and when it is just purely used to bully and appear “cool.” Lets just say the 27 year old female Berkley graduate and I had a very different perspective than the 20 year old male from Guam who’s still very concerned with his popularity status. Interesting conversation to say the least. By the time we were ready to leave I was mentally exhausted and even more thankful my high school days are behind me. I think I’ll homeschool my kids.

I visited the police station two more times just to make sure my purse hadn't been turned in. Both times, with a different officer at the front desk, I was turned away with a head shake and told "No English." They acted as if I was a nuisance and I think somewhat enjoyed turning me away. I was willing to charades communication but that idea clearly didn't stand a chance. So, if you're ever in Krakow and need to speak with a police officer, the chances are slim you will actually get help. I don't know what happened to the guy that helped me the first day I came in to file a report, but he was MIA thereafter.

I paid a driver from our hostel to take me to the airport around 6pm. When he was getting my things out of the car he asked how old I was. I told him 24 and he acted very surprised. He said, “Oh, I thought you were much younger.” I have been told I look no older than 21 many times recently. I’m not really sure what’s going on but I guess I’m ok with it as long as they’re referring to my physical appearance and not my maturity level.

I was worried how I would pay for the city bus when I arrived in Jonkoping. All the Swedish money I had was in my wallet that was stolen. I called the Skavsta airport to ask about the currency exchange office but they said it would be closed by the time I landed in Sweden. Luckily I was able to switch my Polish Zloty for Swedish Kronor at the Krakow airport. It's these little things, if you don't plan ahead of time, that will trip you up and give hell. My flight went well and took off on time so I arrived outside of Stockholm around 11:20pm. My Swebus was leaving Nyköping at 12:10, so when I got off the plane, I walked quickly to catch the bus that would take me to the city center. I had to wait at the bus station for half an hour or so but at least I had a sweater to wear. What the hell was I thinking? When traveling Northern Europe, always bring a jacket and never trust the weatherman.

The Swebus trip was good, however, had I not chosen the seat in front of the x-large, slightly sloppy, male specimen snoring and hacking up mucus the entire trip, I might have actually managed some shut eye. There always has to be one, doesn’t there.

Despite the kinks in my travels, I made some amazing friends, had a few life changing experiences, and learned many lessons. I just booked my ticket to London May 4-8, so another chapter, here I come!

Xo,

L

A bargain is something you don't need at a price you can't resist.

I went to the gym a couple of times this weekend. A girl on my floor has a membership to a really nice health club just down the street and because she is out of town this weekend, she offered me her card. I decided to do a class the other day and besides fumbling with swiping the card and checking in to the class, it wasn’t too apparent I’d never been there before. I walked away from the front desk but didn’t know which of the 4 doors lead to the ladies dressing room. I stood there for about 5 minutes until an older lady finally walked by, opened the correct door, and I followed. I went into the class a little early to stretch as it’s been a while since I’ve attended a Zumba class. In comes the male instructor, bouncy and vibrant, just ready to shake his tale feather. I was wondering if they would teach the class in Swedish… he did. I didn’t understand a word but it was more fun that way. I some how managed to sprain my elbow about 15 minutes in. Of course every move consists of waving your hands in the air so I just looked like an unenthusiastic, half-ass participant. Then it was hot tub and sauna time. This consists of a common area shared between both men and women. Greatttt….. I slide into the hot tub with an older man and women. They said something in Swedish to me and I politely responded, “Pardon me?” Immediately the man goes, “Ahhh, American?” We had a nice conversation whilst our legs awkwardly collided into one another under the bubbles. Then, when he left, 4 more old ladies and 1 pregnant woman came to enter the tub. That’s when I decided it was maybe time for me to go. It was so tiny and hardly warm. Not what I had in mind. Off to the sauna room. I was alone a first but I saw a mid-30, slightly balding, somewhat overweight man watching my every move and as soon as I walked in the sauna he got up to join. He was nice and our conversation lasted about 30 minutes until I finally said I had to go and I’d see him around later. His name was Pear. Physically fitting. Won’t have a problem remembering that one. My favorite class to attend at the gym is BodyCombat. The next day I decided to give the class a try and Oh My. The sexiest Swedish guy I’ve ever laid eyes on was the instructor. I haven’t taken the class for over three months but pushed myself as if I hadn’t even missed a class. I am currently so sore I can hardly move. Good motivation to work hard when your trying to impress but oh how my poor body is paying the price.

The weather has actually been very nice the last couple of weeks. People flock to the decks by the lake and sit in the sun for hours, drinking coffee and hanging out. They certainly appreciate when its sunny because the days are few and far in-between. I’m glad it has been an unusually warm winter (still freezing none the less) because I don’t know if I would have been able to handle a winter like they had the last few years. Tons of snow until mid April, no thank you.

It took me a minute to adjust but I’m certainly enjoying being a bit more social. Everyone loves to go out and dance and the clubs here are much better compared to home. I sang karaoke for the first time the other night. It was really fun! Singing is not an area in which I have much confidence so it was nice to get over the fear. I think I’ll hit up karaoke night more often when I get back. Dancing is of course a blast, but I learned quickly I need to watch myself. My first night out with everyone we all danced the night away having a great time but the next day I had coined the nickname “Horney dancer” and was told they had only seen dancing like that on MTV. The part I found most hilarious was that I hadn’t even noticed I was dancing different than everyone else. In North America, that’s what we do; Bump and Grind. As R.Kelly says… Ain’t nothing wrong with a little bump n’ grind… Unless you’re in Sweden and people dance next to each other not ass in crotch.

Btw, Jersey Shore really needs to be canceled. The Situation and Pauly D are polluting the minds of even the sweet Swedish guys who are idolizing these douche bags. Note to males across the world: these egotistical, womanizing, meat heads are not respectable role models and if you watch the show and think its cool to emanate their behavior, you too will be considered a douche bag. 

Swedish people are funny. They have some general personality characteristics that I can certainly appreciate. They are a bit reserved but good conversationalists once you get them talking. Maybe because I’m American its different and we have more to talk about… I know when I’m home and I meet someone with an accent I’m a little more interested just because I know they’re from somewhere else. Maybe that’s it. But it’s so fun nonetheless! I love having conversations about the differences between cultures. I always ask people I meet to tell me something about the people from their culture and it’s a great way to learn. It seems the Swedish are honest people, a bit reserved and maybe somewhat conservative. I was speaking with a Swedish girl at the bar one night and we were discussing socialism in Sweden. She said the only reason it works is 1. Because the Swedish people are honest and don’t strive to cheat the system and 2. They collectively agree that a comfortable lifestyle for all is best instead of a large gap between those with a lot and those with a little. You don’t tip at the bar and restaurants because even the bartenders and wait staff make a good wage that they can live comfortably on. They play by the rules and tend to listen to authority. When you come to a crosswalk, even if there are no cars coming, they still wait until the light tells them to walk. I don’t. They are kind of closed off in that they tend to run together and not let many “outsiders” in their circle. Once you get to know them they can open up and are wonderful, but generally speaking, don’t expect them to approach you wanting to be friends.

After my final next Monday I am leaving to Krakow, Poland. I am so excited! It was the cheapest trip I could find to book and a bit south so I’m hoping for some warm weather. I have booked a hostel for 4 nights so I hope that goes well. It will be the first time I’ve done the hostel thing. 10 visitors to a room… fingers crossed it works out ok. Beside my plane ticket and accommodation, I have no plans. I’ll figure it out when I get there I guess.

Hej då

L

Peanut Butter and Baseball

Peanut butter and baseball. Two truly American crafts and in my opinion, two of the greatest inventions of all time. For weeks I’d get up, go to the kitchen, throw some toast in the toaster and then slather on a heaping knife full of chunky peanut butter. I always got some strange looks but I didn’t realize the raised eyebrows were directed at my toast topping of choice. They don’t understand it. I don’t understand them not understanding. It tastes so good!! As for baseball.. I played throughout my entire childhood, find it to be the best way to spend a Saturday afternoon, and is my favorite live sporting event. The rest of the world is deprived! 

How is the economy in Sweden? I’d say pretty dang good based on the number of current construction projects going on. Everywhere I go, there is banging, hammering and pounding. There have been a couple of lectures where mid-way through class, pounding of steel beams into the ground will begin. The entire overhead projector shakes as poor Mother Nature is being worked over, one continuous blow after another. Approximately 8 am every morning a loud drilling begins just outside my window. Not even my music can dull the construction site sounds when running around the lake. Which, btw, I ran a little over two miles the other day for the first time since my surgery. The pistons are soon to be back!

My Bulgarian neighbor knocked on the door the other day with a gift. His mother had sent him a few bracelets that are white and red striped. Everyone in Bulgaria wears them during the month of March to signify the beginning of spring. You take them off at the first sight of a stork, or the beginning of April. So sweet, I love it! Maybe our weather bracelets are working because the climate is FINALLY becoming tolerable. The sun has shone the last couple of days and I couldn’t welcome it more. My skin has officially turned a light shade of blue as I’ve lost any tan I might have had coming here. It really is amazing at how much better I feel, and how much more energy I have, on days that are sunny. Last Saturday it was beautiful out so I decided to go on a walk. I walked out of my housing accommodation and turned right. I just kept walking and turned where I felt compelled. It was so much fun!! I was out for probably two hours just walking and discovering areas of Jonkoping that I hadn’t seen. Its fairly hilly here so after a very steep incline I decided to go left into what looked like a park area. It was almost, and I emphasize almost, like being in Central Park. The woods surrounded me and the walking paths seemed endless. 

I came across an Alpaca farm with tons of little baby Alpaca running around. I saw what I thought was a Moose, but now that I look it up, I have no idea what it was. A male something with crazy looking antlers and all of his many female companions.  I found a triple waterfall that was beautiful and the stream wound down the mountain beside the walking path. I can’t imagine what it will look like in a couple of months when things are blooming. 

However, my favorite part was walking through the neighborhoods. At one point I got a woof of what smelled like a grill cooking hamburgers and hot dogs, with the sun shining, and the sound of men working the chainsaw and doing lawn maintenance. It’s amazing when the senses get to work what kind of memories they recall. It completely reminded me of a weekend day with my family, just hanging out, cooking, while all the neighbor kids played outside. Happy times.

I’m kind of doing an experiment. The first week I was here they took us on a tour of Jonkoping. We went to this really sweet, quaint park that was perched at the very highest point of the city with an amazing overlook. It reminded me of the movie The Secret Garden, a film I watched literally hundreds of times as a little girl. I want to find that park again but, here’s the kicker, I want to find it without a map or being told. My goal is to set out every weekend and just walk and explore like I did last Saturday, to hopefully come across this park again. I’ll keep you posted.

The last couple of weeks have been such a whirlwind. I wrote a blog a week ago about love and blah blah but since then, things have completely changed and I’m glad I spared you all. I started out this week feeling so baffled by my continuous struggle in this area of my life. I knew I had two choices. One. I could feel sorry for myself and continue to relapse. Two. Watch a million motivational Youtube videos. I choose the later, and shits working. I watch three or four 5-30 minute videos a day. They range from Earl Nightingale- The Secret to Success; No arms, No legs, No worries; George Carlin- The Earth; Advice to live by, etc.

Focusing your attention in the correct, or most positive producing places, can completely change your life. Your life could be a pile of miserable shit and with an instant shift of thought; you can be living in the most glorious moment. It was brought to my attention, by someone I love and trust very much, that I am always a bit discontent. I kind of knew this about myself, but thought coming to Europe would fix it! Aw hell naw. If you’ve got restlessness in your soul, that bitch isn’t staying home if you’re going to Europe. She’s burying herself deep inside your spirit, lying dormant until you’re convinced she’s gone, only to slowly creep her way back into your life as you settle in to what you thought was a content experience. My mom, and probably my grandmother, always said, “Wherever you go, there you are.” So, my dear friend was so kind to point out this restlessness while I was spewing “but, if this” and “well, if I had that” all over my skype screen. I remembered something I did a few years ago. Its an exercise were you put a rubber band or bracelet on your wrist and anytime you think negatively, whether in your head or out loud, you move the rubber band or bracelet to the other wrist. This trains you to actively notice when you’re going into winey mode and you can stop yourself. New neural pathways are created when thoughts come to mind and you literally train your mind to take the positive route, rather than stomp around in the negative. To prove I'm not full of shit, there’s an article I found written by Janet Callaway called “What do Astronauts & New Habits Have in Common? Here’s a snippet below:

“Back in its early days, NASA designed an experiment to determine the physiological and psychological effect of the spatial disorientation the astronauts would experience in the weightless environment. What NASA did is outfit the potential astronauts with convex goggles, which flipped everything in their field of vision 180 degrees. In other words, their world was turned completely upside down. The potential astronauts were required to wear these special goggles 24 hours a day—even when they were asleep. The scientists then sat back to observe what happened. Initially, according to elevated blood pressure and other vital signs, the potential astronauts suffered from extreme stress and anxiety—hardly surprising since their worlds were upside down. As time went on they gradually adapted to some of the stress though not all of it. On the 26th day, something amazing happened for one of the astronauts. His world turned right-side up again even though he continued to wear the goggles 24 hours a day. From days 26-30, the same thing happened for each of the astronauts; their worlds turned right-side up. What the scientists discovered is that after 26-30 days of this continuous stream of new input—think new habit—the astronauts’ brains created neural connections to “rewire” their brains. What the scientists discovered is the brain needs about 30 uninterrupted days for new neural connections to form. Next time you are ready to develop a new habit, learn a new skill, start a new diet or implement your action plan for success, remember the astronauts. Allow your brain the 30 days for the new neural pathways to be built and keep your commitment to yourself.”

Habits are a muscle that need to be strengthened. Its exciting to know the power to finding unconditional happiness lies in my own ability to keep my focus on the positive things and achieve contentment in my life now, exactly as it is.

One thing I know for sure is that if I can’t be happy in Sweden, as a young, intelligent American female getting an education, with the ability to do as I want, say, and please every morning I wake… I’ll surely end up living a tortured existence.

Much love until next time folks.

L

When in doubt, mumble.

Things are going well these days. After getting home from Ireland I decided I would settle into my life here in Jonkoping. Mainly because at the rate I was spending money I would be completely broke by March. I arrived home early Wednesday morning and by Friday I was having a melt down. I’ve been going through this strange shift personally and coming to Jonkoping just expedited the process and shoved it into full swing. My issue stemmed from an urge to be true to who I am and live in a way I can feel good about and proud of, while still meshing with everyone socially. When I surveyed my contacts on Skype, no one was better fit for this conversation than Granny Bird. She assured me that there was nothing wrong with me and that I need to continue being authentic and live my life how I want to and stop concerning over what others think or are doing. It always sounds so easily put. As days pass I only see improvement in my confidence and ability to make the right choices for myself. I continue to swallow double doses of growth in my independent ability as I’m realizing I'll simply starve if I continue to expect being spoon-fed. It’s invigorating to see past guidelines and boundaries and I’m finding that attitude is being spread throughout all aspects of my life. Life is only as restricting as you allow it to be. Nothing is ever for sure. Don’t be afraid to change it.

The cereal here is awful. All they sell are flakes! Corn flakes, bran flakes, oat flakes, wheat flakes.. just a bunch of shitty tasting flakes. I miss Kashi Crunch and Mini Wheat’s.

Speaking of food… in my dorm we have Sunday dinner and everyone cooks something representative of where they’re from. Well I am letting the US down, big time. The first time I tried cooking nachos. Growing up we always had Friday nacho night and I always looked forward to a big plate of chips, cheese, and veggies with a big dollop of Daisy. Perfect! Tostitos really needs to tap into the Swedish market because there are NO good tortilla chips to be found here. I settled for an unfamiliar brand but it just threw everything off. I cut up a bunch of veggies but I didn’t have any shredded cheese. I took sliced cheese and laid it over the top of the chips. Ugh. They were pathetic. I was so embarrassed. Last Sunday I decided to try chocolate chip cookies. The Turkish guy down the hall did a year abroad in the US during high school and said he missed his housemothers chocolate chip cookies. Yes, got that! If there is one thing I know how to make its definitely cookies. So I go to the grocery store to buy the ingredients. No cookies from a package. Ok… flour. There was no such thing as all-purpose flour so I opted for the bag that had what appeared to be a cinnamon bun on it. No baking soda, but they did have baking powder. The guy said they are the same thing but they’re not, right?? Most recipes in the US call for both don’t they? Anyway, I bought baking powder and went to look for chocolate chips. They don’t have chocolate chips either!!! My only option was a $5 bag of M&M’s that was comparable to a king size bag you buy at the checkout. Practically gold. Then, the cooking begins. All the ingredients added and it looked like I’d made porridge. It was soupy and doughy and clumpy. I added a little more of this and a little more of that and threw it in the oven. A guy and girl from Mexico were cooking enchiladas for our floor. All 15 of us sat around the table and ate together, savoring over the delicious meal. Time for dessert. FML. My cookies turned out flat, stuck to the pan, the M&M’s had lost all their coloring and looked like brown craters, and the consistency was just all wrong. We all had a good laugh but once again.. I retreated from the kitchen in despair.

There is a girl named Sandra who I met in Fayetteville last semester while she was doing an exchange program from Jonkoping. We’ve been in touch as we are both attending school here now. I’ve got an in with the Swedes! We watched a movie at her apartment the other day and I almost swallowed my tongue when she told me that she only pays aprox $25 more in rent a month. It’s a studio apartment and so nice, and new, and clean, and QUIET! Too late now to dwell, but damn I’d wish I’d known. She also informed me that these beautiful blondes are not all necessarily natural.. There are salons on almost every corner; I was wondering how they stayed in business. 

I have a prediction. I predict that shortly, the chunky heel will be making its way back into current fashion trends. I’m seeing it everywhere! Could be wrong, but be on the lookout.

A little etiquette tip while shopping in Sweden: When you put your items on the black rubber thing in the check out line, you always put down a divider after your stuff. I noticed everyone doing it so I caught on, but one time I forgot, and you’d of thought I had spit in someone’s face. One sure way to get a quick ‘go to hell look’.

I got a position writing an article for the JIBS United magazine, a magazine the business school publishes three times a year. I’m so excited as I’ve really enjoyed writing since arriving in Sweden. School is going really well. I’m learning a lot and warming up to this independent studying. I wrote a paper for Research Methods the other day I felt so good about I could have screamed. I read all the time, continue to study, and add to, my large stack of Swedish flashcards, I write, I research, I’m beginning to walk or workout daily, and rarely sleep. It takes me hours to fall asleep lately, and when I finally do, its well after 2-3 a.m. I guess I have a lot on my mind.

That’s all for now,

L

Ireland.. Where the Guinness flows like wine and the redheads flock like the salmon of Capistrano.

Well it has certainly been quite a week. I hardly had time to shit, shower, and shave before I saddled up again and took off for another trip. I did make it to class, and let me tell you, stamina is required for these 3-hour lectures guided by a man who could potentially croak at any moment. Thursday came and I was off bright and early to catch the bus. I sparked up convo with a middle age man and what do ya know, he’s Irish! As we go to get on the bus he says, “Go ahead and put your suitcase under the bus and I’ll grab us some seats!” I didn’t realize that was the beginning of our 13-hour trek together. I don’t think there was a consecutive 2 minutes of silence once that man got started. I’ve heard the Irish are talkers so I wasn’t too surprised. I enjoyed his company and it certainly made a long day of traveling go by quickly. We were so tight by the end of the day he even held my hand as we landed. First, Swedish granny and now, old Irish man! I wonder what’s next?! Aaron, a friend of mine who recently moved to Ireland from Canada, was waiting to pick me up. After a lost buzz and slight ear exhaustion, once I’d arrived I was pretty much ready for dinner and some zzzz’s.

The next day we set off for fun in Dublin. Aaron really wanted to see the Book of Kells at the Trinity College library so we went there first. I was most impressed with the handwriting. It’s insane to think about how long it must have taken them to write even a page. The lines are perfect and not even the slightest mess up occurs. Well, that I could see anyway. I would love to know how many old people have grumbled to one another, “Look at that penmanship. There’s just no appreciation for penmanship anymore.. The damn youth have ruined it!” I included a picture I found on Google as your not allowed to take pictures. 

We then went to a couple museums where we saw some other old shit and after feeling like we got our bore fix, headed to a pub for a Guinness. I had a few on this trip but I must say, this first Guinness I might possibly remember for the rest of my life. It tasted absolutely splendid! 

We savored those for an hour or so, ate some cheesy fries, and headed off to find the old Guinness factory.  My impression of Dublin surprised me a bit as it wasn’t quite what I was expecting. I guess because what I’ve seen of Europe so far has been so clean and polished. Ehhhh I wouldn’t give Dublin that much. The city felt a bit rough and industrial but it did have some beautiful buildings, mainly churches. 

We did make it to the factory and had such a great time. The tour was at your own pace so we took our time winding up the factory, checking things out, taking pictures, and stopping for a couple Guinness’s here and there along the way. We got to pour our own Guinness, which was fun. We spent most of the day there and before leaving we decided to go up to the glass bar at the top, where you have a 360 degree view of the city skyline. Lights at night are my favorite! It was a beautiful sight and we hung out there for 15 minutes or so. 

We wound our way down to the exit and I think we were literally the last ones to leave the building. We stumbled outside, not realizing how wasted we were, and all of a sudden these 3 guys start walking towards us. I clung to Aaron quickly as the situation just didn’t feel right and instantly made me uncomfortable. One of the guys walked straight up to Aaron and hit him across the face at what looked like a 90 mph blow. He went down in a flash, and as his body lay there limp, one of the other guys snatched his wallet and camera. I was standing there alone, when it hit me that I had to make a move fast or I was going to find my self in a very unfortunate situation. I took a deep breath and calmly said, “You messed with the wrong woman this evening gentlemen.” I side kicked the one coming towards me in the right kneecap, sending him to the ground screaming. I pulled out my pepper spray and nailed all three of them in the face, elbowing one and punching the other I hadn’t had the pleasure of assaulting yet. While they were crying like babies and clawing at their eyes, I picked up Aaron and ran through the alleyway back to the street area. Alright folks… there is one thing I can assure you about my writing. It is that I never lie, and if I do, Ill tell you. I just lied. Damnit, but I was so cool for second! Alright, lets take it from “we stumbled outside.” We walked outside, hoofed it back to the hotel, had one more drink at a pub and listened to an Irish band, and then called it a night. Told ya, the adlibbed version is way more fun. Though, I’m sure Aaron appreciates my clarification.

The next day we had breakfast and headed up the coast to Belfast, Northern Ireland. I love landscapes and much prefer it to the city. Ireland was much more mountainous than I had pictured and the rock formations on the coast are absolutely beautiful. 

I wasn’t able to make our yearly family trip to Maine last summer so when we stopped to take a picture and I opened the door to the salty, coastal smell that I love so much, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. It made me feel so warm and at peace inside. 

There were lots of sheep of course, which I found far more thrilling than Aaron. 

We played this game along the way where when you see a horse, you call “horse” and if you see two horses, you call “horse, horse,” and so on. You add them up as you see them, trying to call them out before the other person. If you see a graveyard, you call “graveyard” and then you bury the other person’s horses and they are back to zero. Anyway, I think all the horses were hanging out in the stable that day because our game was very low scoring. Unbeknown to him, on the way to the airport (on Tuesday, I’ll explain in a bit) I scored 56 horses and as our bus was pulling into the airport there was a massive graveyard and I buried all of his horses. So, I win. I just want that one to go down in the record books. The trip was about 3 hours before we arrived at Giant’s Causeway. This landmark is very unique as it consists of thousands of rocks that look like columns or pillars stacked side by side. It is the remnants of volcanic activity some 50-60 million years ago. It was beautiful and such a great night to be there. The sky was blue and the sun shown, the moon was out, and the weather crisp and cool.

We drove back to Belfast where we were staying for the evening. We decided to go out and enjoy some local nightlife. The first pub we went to was really packed but we managed to snag a booth and did some serious people watching, my favorite form of entertainment. Aaron continued drinking Guinness but I was back to the usual Gin and tonic at this point. To finish the night off we danced the night away at a club below our hotel. I haven’t been able to be very active since the tata’s arrived, so it was nice to break loose for an hour or so. My hips were not lying the next morning as apparently dancing also counted as a much-needed legwork out.

So here is where things get a little hazy. We woke up thinking we had most of the day to walk around and as long as we left by 2 pm, we should have no problem getting to the airport in time. Wrong. Mistake number 1. We left at 2:30 and stopped at a gas station for 20 minutes. Mistake number 2. We drove 30-45 minutes West, not South. When finally back on track, Aaron stepped on it. My flight was to leave at 5:10. We got to the airport at 4:45, had a quick goodbye, and I dashed off. I got through security surprisingly fast, literally ran through the mall of an airport, and arrived at my gate right as the last people were boarding the plane. The guy checks my ticket and says, “You don’t have this signed by security. You have to show them your passport and they check you off here.” WTF. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach as my hope of getting on that plane slipped from my fingers. Let me warn you, if your traveling in Europe, particularly Ryanair and you check in online, you must have your passport checked at the very beginning of the check in process and you have to tell them to check it otherwise you’ll get through security just fine, arrive at your gate, and then be told you must go back. I also forgot to do this in Stockholm the first time but because of the way security was laid out, it was caught earlier and wasn’t a big deal. I looked at the man and said, “So, If I go back, the plane will have departed, and I’ll miss the flight…” He says, “Yes, I’m sorry but your not going to make this flight.” I think the worst part was having to walk all the way back through the airport, past all the people I’d just sprinted past in a flurry. They knew. I had “I missed my flight and I’m really sad,” written all over my energy. I called Aaron from a pay phone to let him know I hadn’t made it and he turned around and came back to pick up my sorry ass. We’d both known that was a viable option given the circumstance. The next flight left Tuesday so I settled into the fact I wouldn’t be home for a couple of days. He bought us dinner, drinks, and dessert in honor of my missed flight. It ended up being a wonderful night.

I had a paper due Monday at midnight so when Aaron went to work that day, my plan was to finish and submit my paper. He left around 8:30am and soon after I got up for breakfast and a shower. Now, ok… remember I’m safety girl. I lock doors and am cautious of my surrounds, especially when naked and in the shower as that feels like a vulnerable place to be if someone were to break in. Ok, soooo I lock the bedroom door. It’s not just a normal lock on knob, but more like a deadbolt you lock with an old fashioned key. I get in the shower and clean up. 15 minutes later I dry off and attempt to unlock the door. Not a budge. That lock was not even slightly turning as I practically ripped the skin off my fingers trying to turn that dang key. I put the key in, I took the key out, I turned it around, flipped it up side down, turned it to the right, and tried and tried and tried turning it to the left. Nothing. I noticed the key had a hole in the end that I was using to turn it. I thought, maybe if I could just get better leverage. So I stuck a pair of scissors through the hole and tried to turn. The head of the key snaps off and I’m left holding the evidence of my stupidity. How the hell am I supposed to turn it now! I have no clothes in his room, no keys to his house, no phone, not a single thing that could help me but apparently my wee size brain. There’s a window and the drop isn’t far. I put the tights and tank top on that I was wearing before and Aaron’s hoodie and shoes. I shimmy my body out the window and onto the side street. There’s a massive rod iron gate that I must get through to be on the main road. I later learned there is a button that easily opens a side door to the gate, but at the time, I had not discovered that yet. I begin to climb. Honest to God, that moment, as I was perched atop the gate, looking like a wet street rat, will forever be solidified in my mind. A man pushing a wheelbarrow, accompanied by his dog, just stopped and stared. I climbed back down and asked him for help. He didn’t understand what the hell I was doing and as crazy as my story was, I don’t blame him. Anyway, he helped me over the fence regardless. Ok, now what do I do. The day before, Aaron had showed me where the library was. I decided I would walk there. They weren’t open until 10am and it was 20 till. I decided to walk through the mall next door and see if there was a cell phone or computer shop I could hit up. There was but apparently they don’t connect their devices to the Internet. No help. I walked back to the library and waited. I explained myself to the librarian and she was so kind to let me use the computer for free. I got on Facebook, of course, to try and reach Aaron. I did and after 30 minutes of back and forth, he met me back at his apartment. He had to call his landlord and have him come let us in. This is a picture of me outside his complex as he couldn’t believe the get up I’d just strutted around town in. So embarrassing.

PS That is not the rod iron gate I climbed- it is the
Everest equivalent to this puny thing. 

I did get my paper completed and turned in on time so all was well. I went grocery shopping, cooked dinner, and after work Aaron and I just hung out and watched a movie. The next day I walked to the local bus station and caught a ride to the Dublin airport, where I did a lot of horse sight seeing. The flight was smooth and I arrived to Stockholm safely. 

Because my Swebus ticket had expired, I had to get a new one. I thought I would do this at the airport in Stockholm when I arrived. A lady told me to catch the local bus and I could buy one at the Nykoping bus station. When I arrived at the local bus station, it was closed. Another pickle. A cell phone would have solved all problems but not having one makes things more interesting. Acquiring life skills, ya know. I walked through the town and found a hotel. I explained to the girl at the desk that I needed to buy a bus ticket and wondered if they had a computer in the reception area I could use. She points to one in the corner and says, “Please, feel free!” It even had a printer right there where I could print the ticket out. Pure luck. Then I went to a local pub and had a massive dinner while I sat and read until my bus arrived at midnight. Another 3:30 am arrival and this girl is ready to take it easy for a while. I don’t plan on going anywhere until March rolls around. All in all, it was a wonderful trip.

I finally received my books for class so this weekend I will be doing a lot of catching up. Looking forward to it!

L