Rustle – Fidget – Rustle AKA I am getting off at the next bus stop

Earlier I blogged a little about Every Man's Right – the right everyone in Sweden has to enjoy the Swedish landscape and its trappings. But I often believe that another 'Right' that Every Man has in Sweden is the right to never actually speak or be spoken to by another human being unless they choose to do so.

This right to silence is practiced religiously on the main mode of transportation in many cities – the city bus. Buses are, in most countries, bound by their own style of communication. I know Grayhound is a world unto itself. Swedish buses are no exception.

Let's say you are on a city bus. It's a packed bus and you are seated closest to the window. Sitting next to you is a stranger with whom you do not wish to speak. You want to get off at the next stop, but someone has already pushed to STOP button. How do you indicate to your fellow passenger that you need them to move?

The easiest situation is if you have just been shopping. Then you take your bags and you rustle them loudly. Or you pick up your bags and place them on your lap – ideally rustling them a bit. At this point your neighbor will probably shift their legs towards the aisle to indicate that they are aware you would like to get off at the next stop. When the bus pulls in, they will stand up and let you out. All without saying a word.

If you don't have any shopping bags – this trick works equally well with a backpack, purse or briefcase. If you don't have any of the above, but you have a sweater, gloves or anything else that can be fiddled with – do this instead.

Only as a last resort might you say 'excuse me' or 'urshekta may.' Often times you will find that this person is also a foreigner.

So, if someone next to you on the bus starts fidgeting madly with a bag, but not accomplishing something, now you know why.

Also, please note that you might confuse passengers on the occasion that you actually rifle through your bag for another reason – like finding something. I have actually had to say a few times 'Oh, sorry, no I'm not getting off here,” because I can never manage to find my damn phone in my bag.

Big Brother is Watching – He's just not paying any attention

One of the things that takes a little getting used to in Sweden is the usage of one's personal number. If you move here for any length of time, you are given a number, which you use as your identity for everything.

This is particularly intimidating for us Yanks, I think, because this is often seen as one of the 'scary' aspects of socialism. The government sees everything you do – and can track everything you do.

How this plays out in Sweden, however, is pretty odd.

The truth is, I can go in and find out what all of my neighbors earned last year, and how much tax they paid, no problem. I also can pick up the phone, call my local government, and find out more about my neighbors – since Sweden has a very solid Freedom of Information act – I can get lots of details (albeit not their medical information or other confidentially ruled items).

But, strangely enough, every year I read an article in the paper that there just aren't enough places at the local daycare centers for the little kiddies.

Now here is the deal, Sweden provides wonderful subsidized daycare for all kids between 1-6. You get 40 hours a week, and pay roughly 1,000 SEK per month(this varies depending on how many kids you have in daycare at a time) – that's right, full time daycare for about 150 dollars. Yay, right?

And in each municipality all the pregnant folk have to register their pregnancy – even if they go through private care – the information is sent to the National Insurance Agency.

This means that 6-7 months before the kids are born, the municipality has a pretty good idea of how many kids will be born that given year. They then have one year after their birth to plan daycare adequate for all of the children. There is the option in some municipalities to decline a daycare place and take the subsidy instead for SAHM. But, let's be honest, you can get a pretty good sense of the amount of daycare places you will need 1.5 years before they are needed, all by taking a look at the information via personal numbers.

But every year, despite reports of baby booms – the daycare folk seem SHOCKED that there are so many kids turning 1 that year, and there aren't enough places to go around.

I'm glad big brother isn't all up in my business – but really, this would just be a simple and very helpful thing to accomplish!

Swedes sure do love MasterKock!

Sometimes as a scholar, an anthropologist or even as an overly generalizing blogger you make some silly and strange comparisons. You stretch a little to get your facts to line up better, your statistics to make sense, and to gain a little clarity. (Not that I would ever do ANY of the above in any scholarly work, of course)

So this is a stretch, but bear with me here. Because I notice lately there has been an absolute abundance of Masterchef on Swedish TV. You may think 'how odd you would notice such a thing.' Which is odd, I admit. It's just that this time last year, I was nursing a little one around the clock – and thus spending a lot of time on the sofa – and let me tell you, there was practically nothing but Masterchef – the English version. I watched episode after episode of this strange TV show (no, there was nothing else on thanks for asking, and yes I also read like 4 books a week during this time, so no I wasn't better off reading a book). I would often lose track and realize during the last five minutes of an episode that I had indeed watched this episode the day before. And while I realize this is a sad commentary on my state of mind it was indeed the state of things.

This week I had the flu. And thanks to my helpful Swede, I spent most of the week on the sofa – reunited with my long lost love – British Masterchef. 

Now one of the fateful flaws of this odd TV show is the fact that they switch the contestants so often that you lose track of their backstory and stop caring about anyone at all. (I know this because I am obsessed with other cooking reality TV shows like Top Chef). So last night after watching what seemed like 8 hours of Masterchef in a row, but was probably only 2, I was surprised to find that the American Masterchef was playing on yet another channel. Well, leave it to my people to solve what I felt was the tragic flaw of Masterchef, by uniting one giant cast, but then shooting themselves in the foot by making Gordon Ramsey the judge. Seriously, how does he even have time for this stuff?

And then, drumroll please, I saw the ad for the upcoming version of Swedish MasterKock! Starting next week, with that weird Swedish actor guy, Per Morberg, who has a cooking show, as the judge.

Which brings me to the main point of this post – which if you made it this far – thank you! And that is Kock/Cook remains  the most dangerous word for me to say in Swedish – because it just feels wrong at all costs. If I say it correctly and say 'Du ar en bra kock' – or you are a good cook, it sounds funny. If I say 'Du ar en bra cook' it sounds right to my ears, but makes any good Swede giggle, as I've just told them they are a good cock. So be careful out there – and as you can tell – my cold hasn't quite left me yet.

Swedish Dreams and Inspiration

I just discovered this blogger - Lola -  with some beautiful photos of Sweden. She's done a great job of capturing the beauty of this winter and all of it's snow.

She's entered in a contest to travel as a blogger to the North Pole. I thought it sounded pretty inspiring. I know I spend a lot of time being a bit cynical and sarcastic - but I think it really is important to follow your heart and dream big. I know I still try to . . .

 I cast a vote her way. You can do the same - here.

Parenting – Swedish Style – Swaddling and other reasons why I'm glad I'm not a newborn

One big mistake you can make when raising a child in a foreign country – is reading too many books from your home country. The reason why this is a problem is because you find out, very quickly, that many of those 'shoulds' or 'musts' that all the experts recommend, really aren't a universal childrearing tactic. And lets keep in mind that Sweden isn't some third-world country, it is in the top 10 of great places to have and raise a child (officially the top ten referenced here exists only in my mind, but I'm pretty sure I've read that somewhere).

One of the typical American things that Swedes frown upon is the act of Swaddling. In the US, in most movies and TV shows, newborn babies are presented to their parents as tiny little packages of swaddled goodness in a hat. And I will make the giant leap to say that this is how it actually happens in many hospitals – and some of my friends have backed me up on this. In Sweden your baby is placed immediately on your chest, since this is ideal for breastfeeding, completely naked. And your baby remains naked until you dress them in the clothes you brought with you.

So what about the swaddle? Before LO was born I was showing some friends and family my babygear. I had gotten a nice miracle blanket for all of my swaddling needs. “Oh, a baby straight jacket.” “Oh how old fashioned,” they all commented. They all wrinkled their noses in disgust. Odd, I thought, since it seems like an average everyday thing in the US.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Would you want to be swaddled?” they replied.

“Well, no.” I answered. But there isn't really much about being a newborn that I would like to do. I wouldn't want to live on formula or breastmilk alone. I don't want to wear diapers. I enjoy being able to communicate my wants and needs with words. And I cannot wait to get back to a grown-up 8 hour sleep – this waking up every 3 hours is getting really old.

So there was no good reason not to swaddle – other than the old-fashioned straightjacketyness of it all. This is good, because sometimes the language of baby should's and must's gets pretty scary.

In the end we didn't swaddle. I could just never get the hang of it. But the few times LO was swaddled with the help of some of my visiting American friends, it worked like a charm.  

Studying is a full time job

As a student in Sweden, you will come to learn pretty quickly that the attitude and the entire system is built upon the principle that being a student is akin to being employed at a full-time job. Those of us who have made an almost career out of being a full-time student in multiple countries know that this is indeed a slippery slope. One person's full-time job is another person's walk in the park. But what does this full-time job mean?

In the Swedish system, currently, I believe a full course load is 30 points (they have changed this since I was a student, so bear with me). These 30 points should equal 40 work hours a week. The average Swedish student gets a grant and a loan to pay for living expenses incurred during these 40 hours a week because one should not be required to work while studying. The theory being – do you work a job on top of your 40 hour a week job? In Sweden, the answer to that would be 'no.'

Here they seem to take the 40 hour rule pretty seriously. I have a friend who was a professor who was chastised when he implied that students might have to do some homework over the weekend since they were having trouble finding time during the work week. But I have to admit, I am hard pressed to find a student here who hasn't done quite a bit of studying on the weekends – especially right before a big exam.

In my experience as a humanities student – and my Swede vehemently disagrees , I found the work week calculation to be based on what the slowest student in the class was capable of completing. And by slowest person, I am not quite sure who they were aiming for – remember I was studying in a foreign country in a foreign language – I was very slow. I ended up going out and getting a job because I had nothing to do all day.

When I asked Swedes about this conundrum, I was often given one of the following answers: You are studying humanities, you are studying at a hogskola – not a University, you are studying a program which is known for being ridiculously easy. Never once did they commend me for my sheer brilliance at being too smart for the system.  

New Year's Eve – Swedish Style – The environmentally friendly gloves come off

Let's face it – the Swedes take climate change a lot more seriously than your average American and they are willing to make a lot of sacrifices for it. They know how much carbon is used to create their fast food hamburger at MAX. A few of my friends received Carbon Credits as their company Christmas present one year – the same carbon credit program that was raked over the coals in the American media. They pay eight dollars for one gallon of gas, yes EIGHT DOLLARS per gallon. (ETA - A little hazy in my NYE lack of sleep - I originally put down 4 dollars per gallon, that would indeed be a bargain here)

But New Year's Eve – it is an eve of debauchary – of drinking, of partying, and of throwing environmental caution to the wind. I've already blogged about Sweden's slightly different attitude towards the danger of fire – but what about fireworks?

New Year's Eve explodes with fireworks – in Sweden – it is a DIY display of extraordinary excess. It has led my Swede to shrug at many a July 4^th celebration, as sub par. Last night from about 10 pm to 1 am our little neighborhood sounded like it was under attack. A wide assortment of rockets, small fireworks and other explosives peppered the sky.

I have to admit, being that close to that much gun powder, makes me a little nervous. I usually watch a few go off and then head indoors. I am much more impressed by the Japanese Lanterns that people are starting to use a little more often. I prefer my fireworks done by professionals, with firemen on hand.

(On a side note, I also surprised to learn that fireworks are a great sleeping aide for a LO who hates sleep.)

But the thing that surprises me the most about the NYE explosive madness of Sweden is just how bad it is for the environment. Maybe it's because Alfred Nobel invented dynamite? Or maybe because just like how calories don't count on Christmas Eve, carbon doesn't count on New Years? One 'green' article here suggests that the amount of fireworks set off on July 4^th in the US is equal to the emission of 12,000 cars annually. While the Swedes probably set off fewer fireworks nationally than the US each year, even if it's only 2,000 cars annually, that's a lot of cars for one night of celebration.

So why all the hush hush about the fireworks?