In January 2011 Marita arrived in Uppsala, Sweden, for a semester of exchange. She enjoyed it. She enjoyed it a lot. She enjoyed it so much she's here for a year now. This is what she gets up to.
Up(psala)date
7 weeks? I’ve been here for 7 weeks? Well then, here’s what’s been happening: I’m loving my subjects. It helps that they pretty much happen once a week or fortnight. I’m studying Conflict and Consensus in American History, which I adore. There’s seven in the class and we sit around for 2 hours discussing the readings and it reminds me why I’m a massive nerd who loves learning. Australian Society (yes, I’m studying Aus in Sweden) is the cruisiest subject on the planet. Class is once every two weeks, the guy who runs the subject is an American who lets discussion wander freely and defers to the Australian students. That’s not to say I’m not learning anything, but the class is so laidback it’s horizontal. Ohhh and I do Swedish twice a week. The whole class is taught in Swedish, so I spend about 80% thinking, ahhhhhhhh shit, what? But it’s still pretty enjoyable. And I’m starting Genocide & Mass Violence in the Modern World in two weeks. Should be… depressing as all hell. Aaaaand I dropped Swedish History when I found out I’d have to write an essay for missing class. Bugger that. First weekend of February I went to Stockholm with Caity (Aus) and Sara (Germany). 40 mins on the train and you’re in another damn city. Arrived on a cold, wet day, but it felt good to be in a real, proper city (tall buildings, shitloads of people. Uppsala is really like living in, say, Geelong). Stockholm is a bunch of islands, so we wound our way south from the Central Station looking for bridges that’d take us in the right direction. We ventured through Gamla Stan (the old-timey island, stupidly beautiful but kitsch, location of the Palace) and then, traversing a maze of underpasses, tunnels and bridges, made it to Södermalm, home of The Red Boat Mälaren. Yep, our hostel was on a boat (motherfucker, don’t you ever forget), with a Krusty Krab-themed reception (intentional? perhaps not). We stashed our gear, then wandered back to Gamla Stan admiring the cobblestones, tiny alleyways and the multitude of shitty souvenirs (like Swanston Street, only prettier and sans opals). At the Palace we did a tour of the Royal Apartments, which were incredibly opulent and OLD. I’m still not used to being in rooms that are waaaaaaaaay older than Australia. After wandering through the shops and sampling the local cuisine (Maccas) of central Stockhom (Norrmalm, i think) we headed over (embarked on long hike) to the Fotografiska (photography museum), which was both seriously cool and seriously wanky. There was a load of photos of Andy Warhol in drag. Yep. After hot chocolate in some sweet cafe we retired to our quarters, absolutely buggered. Saturday we woke up bright and early, took full advantage of the breakfast buffet then hopped on a ferry to Djurgården (touristy island). We checked out Skansen, an open air museum and zoo, which was really pretty and fkn huge. At some point I lost my white beanie. Booooo. Also, there were monkeys. After a couple of hours there, we moseyed over to the Vasamuseet (Vasa museum), a biiiiiiiiig museum dedicated to a big ship that sunk in the 17th century, which is totes preserved n shit. It was pretty damn cool. Then some shopping happened, and THEN we were starving. Food Court, ahoy! Greasiest pizza of my life, but so good. Heading back home (we sure know how to party) we dropped into an awesome cafe and had white chocolate cheesecake (total arse expandage) then crashed for the evening. Final morning we got out and about, checking out Södermalm (seemed like the Fitzroy of Stockholm), which was on top of a big cliff, so more walky fun times were had. Saw the Changing of the Guard at the palace (moderately impressive), then the Treasury (crown jewels and whatnot). I feel like we did something else but I can’t remember. Caity? Trained back to Uppsala, arriving with a distinct feeling of “ahhh it feels good to be home”. Then had a massive dinner in the common room with the Eklundshov folk. The following weekend was the Kalmar Reccegasque, my first proper gasque. According to wikipedia a gasque is “a kind of Swedish student party which starts with a more or less formal dinner”. Yeah, that. It was a dinner for all the new Kalmar members, but all the other nations had one that night as well. Having picked up a dress the previous day from a fkn sweet op shop, I got my girly on, shifting from perpetually sloppy layabout to , well, layabout wearing a lot more makeup and a sparkly dress. We got there at 3.30, hit the bubbles, then strolled over to the Main University Building for an official welcome with all the other newbies. It was goddamn impressive. And the orchestra played the Zelda theme. Win. Back to Kalmar for more champagne and mingling, then it was time for dins. Gasques go like this: you sit boy, girl, boy girl, etc. You get booze, most importantly schnapps, aka. fiery liquid death. There’s a specific way you’re supposed to toast, and it happens every time there is a song. WHICH IS OFTEN. We got song books, but for the most part I just giggled. The food itself was amazing, even though I forget what it was. Jonas’ll know. Feeling a little more… high-spirited… we headed over to Smålands for the after party which was, in a word, shit. Next morning Caity, Jonas (Germany), Michelle and I indulged in the ultimate hangover cure, brunch at Göteborg. Bacon-licious. 6.30pm the following Thursday I found myself waiting with 15 others for the train to Kiruna. We was off to Lapland for the weekend. Sitting around with Josh (USA) in our compartment for the first 45 mins or so, I found myself battling ants in my pants. There were two French couples who were being quiet and boring, and all I could think of was the “Mi scuzi!” guy in Eurotrip. So we joined Caity et al in their compartment, and I defeated the ants in my pants with a little cider, goon and bacardi. Not the best idea on an empty stomach, so when I retired to bed a few hours later I found the task of making it up to my bunk (it was the highest of three and there was no ladder) quite… interesting. Turns out we were delayed and changed trains in Luleå (brekky buffet was indulged in), so finally made it to Kiruna after about 20 hours instead of 16. Ah well. Kiruna was super quiet and super cold. It’s home to a church which was supposedly voted the most beautiful building in Sweden once. I’m guessing that was the year of the Giant Swedish Shitstorm, when every building in the country found itself covered in moose faeces except that Church. Seriously, it’s nice, but I’ll be damned if it’s the MOST beautiful. (However, I didnt go inside. Maybe it’s full of unicorns vomiting rainbows or something?) After chucking our gear at the hostel, then boosting our supplies at Syssy B, we taxied to the Icehotel. Wikipedia that shit. They’ve been rebuilding it every dec-april since 1990. Mad skillz. And yep, it was pretty damn impressive. The rooms that are designed by artists are coooooool (literally. HA PUNS FO LYFE). Had an alright drink at the bar, saw a wedding and had my dumbest thought for the weekend (“what do they do about heating?”). Next morning we were picked up by Henrik, aka Chuck Norris’s dad. We were driven to the middle of nowhere, given awesome warm pants, then sat on the back of snowmobiles for 40mins as we cruised along frozen rivers to our destination (woo drove a snowmobile). Arrived at the camp (minus feeling in my fingers and toes) which smelt like reindeer and was run by a crazy-awesome Sami dude named Stig (responsible for such gems as “you touch the dogs, i get to touch you”). We then found out we had to chop our own wood and bring water up from the frozen river. And the toilet was on par with the toilet from hell in Trainspotting. Buuuuuuuuut it was still incredibly cool. After a lunch of Reindeer soup (surprisingly good) we went and bummed around on the frozen lake then went sledding (argh so fun). After dinner (reindeer something) we went out to look for the Northern Lights. After staring at a fuzzy cloud-type thing, we realised that was the aurora. After a while it transformed into something more impressive, yet still quite faint. However, it was still an incredible experience (“Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’m seeing the fucking Northern Lights. I’m in the goddamn Arctic. Fuuuuuck!” [sorry mum]). The next morning, after a breakfast of polar bread and vegemite, a few of us went for a walk up the river and mucked around in the snow. Heading home we took snowmobiles and dogsleds. It’d been a buttload of fun, but god the prospect of getting out of the cold was joyful. Seriously, -27 or whatever it was is not so fun. Caught the train home, was back in Uppsala Monday morning at 9. Weekend after that was the International Gasque. It was a lot bigger and I’d had a ticket since my third day here (hype hype hype). Mum had sent me a dress and some heels, so once again I found myself getting tarted up and ready to party. The gasque itself was fairly average (reindeer for entree, moose for main, AWESOME DAIM PANA COTTA FOR DESSERT), but apparently I had an awesome time at the after party. Oh and if anyone’s wondering where Peter Garrett is, he’s frontman of a (possibly shitty) cover band in Sweden. Saturday I wanted to die. Sunday I went skiing. Romme Alpin was the place and I soon worked out it was probably the equivalent of Baw Baw. Any place where I can ski black relatively easily is bound to be tame (Scotty, you would have been bored out of your mind). But still, it was stupidly pretty and I had loads of fun. In between, I’ve been doing heaps of reading for class, eating, youtubing, eating, hanging around with Caity, eating. And heaps of walking. I finally got my bike last week, but I haven’t been riding too much, even though it’s way faster. I’m getting better at the supermarket business of only buying what I need, but I’m still shit at going to nations and sticking to one beer. Ah well. I’ve also been sledding a couple of times (garbage bags, the ultimate sled), as well as working at the Kalmar pub ($2 an hour, but somehow super fun). And that’s the end of that chapter *scarf flick*
