Paris.


Wahhh. Three days of joy. I left Paris with a nameless sense of direction after spending three days with a wonderful friend in a truly impressive city staring at art. Let me begin with the Wreck of the Medusa.



This painting attracted me from when I first saw it three years ago and a genius analysis of it in an article read in class clinched the deal. Basicallyyyy this is the volatile human condition. Uh huh. All of that. Riotous, dignified, undignified.

And now the rest:






Tympanum at Notre Dame.


View from my friend's window.


In front of the Louvre.



Across the Seine


Notre Dame



Exiting the Louvre late that night.


Mantegna, a sketch for St. Sebastian. Illegal photograph master strikes again.

The Netherlands

After returning from Paris the night before, finishing an essay, giving a presentation of it in class the next day and then heading right away for the airport again, I got on the plane to the Netherlands feeling a little bit too tired for travel, but fortunately the feeling quickly dissolved. I managed to continue a conversation in Swedish for half an hour with my neighbors on the plane and felt pretty damn proud about that. At the tail end of the flight, we could see the night-lit Amsterdam on the right and Utrecht on the left - quite a view.

Bodegraven:
I was picked up and went that night to stay with Manon at her family's house in Bodegraven, to the south and longitudinally between Utrecht and Bodegraven.
There's a dutch word, gezellig (pronounced: hhheezellihhh), which is a combination of coziness, solidarity, togetherness, comfort, etc. There's no literal translation into English but this family I was staying with was very gezellig. They had a very funny, good way of interacting with each other. They had two little dogs as well that were stupid, cute and somehow cuter because of their stupidity. I had purchased a packet of hard-to-find Korean noodles when I happened upon them in Utrecht, but unfortunately one of the little dogs tore through two layers of plastic wrapping and consumed one package, strewing my high-quality ramen (whatever that means) across the room.



On the first morning we drove out to a little bit of woods and took the dogs for a walk. The Netherlands is utterly flat, cut through with frequent canals of varying sizes. The farmlands were so green, the kind leaf-green, alive green. Cows and sheep everywhere. The hobbit side of me was delighted.
In this section of woods, we walked over many of these small canals/irrigation systems and, when in the open, they became a nesting locus for birds.





Utrecht:
So, later that day we headed to Utrecht, about 20 minutes away by car. Manon has an apartment there. I loved the city - it was a saturday and all of these splendid Dutch people were out on the streets, the buildings were very odd, small, scrunched together, eclectic. What I know of the Dutch, I ADORE. They are extremely open,honest, frank people. I think that some might call them, in some cases, rude, but I would say rude in a good way. Irreverant toward the right things. But this is only from small experience in the country.


A bridge over one of the canals/rivers through Utrecht.



The streets above the canals.



Public boat transportation (more prominant in Amsterdam).



Amsterdam:

The next day I headed on a solo expedition to Amsterdam. I really, really loved this city. It was eccentric, not a pretty place but an exciting place, a kind of busy, energetic city. Even with the rain there were a lot of people on the streets. Went to the Van Gogh museum and the Rijksmuseum. I noticed something about Rembrandt's women, which is that they always seem pleasantly unaware of how ugly they are.



Canals in Amsterdam:








On a whim I enterred this church because it's facade reminded me of St. Etienne, gorgeous building, and I stumbled into the middle of a service. Although my original inclination was to cut and run, I stayed. Maybe it's a vestige of my religious upbringing, now rationally crushed, but I'm always affected inside churches. I've detached the social and politial symbolism from my private experience of the place itself - religion, dogma are not things I even think about inside. It's a feeling, not a thought.






The birthday party
Manon turned twenty one last week and this trip to the Netherlands was to celebrate her birthday! They had closed down the rail station in her town and converted it into a restaurant where you make your own food and then the chef, while you sit and drink wine, fixes all the horrendous mistakes you made and cooks it for you.





Dutch countryside:









Clouds. This is a true story: whenever flying next to clouds I want to go running on them. Childish, fanciful, whatever it may be, so it is.


Sweden from the air:
Flying over the woods and rivers. Wanted to be on the ground in the woods. Also saw Stockholm from above, got a much better idea of the fourteen islands/archipelago.

Why so many posts?! It must be the joy!



I've been wanting to try and make mulled wine for just under a year now and today got the chance. Half an apple, three quarters of an orange, 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, 1/8 teaspoon ginger and allspice each, 6 cinnamon sticks and 10 cloves. Also added a 1/4 cup sugar. The wine would have been more 'commercial,' so to speak, with more. What we wound up with had a stronger taste, which ultimately we decided that we liked better. Later we were joined briefly by Ludvig, swedish co-inhabitant number three.



Manon preparing for the mulled wine feast. In Sweden, a similar type is quite famous, called glögg.






Earlier I went out to class in the morning, but arrived to find it canceled. So Kyle and I went for an epic three hour fika at Cafe Őfre Slotts. This was very interesting and our conversation was extensive. Among other things we talked about our general understanding and experiences of study abroad so far. And this was very interesting - almost two months have passed, which may or may not be the half-way point of my time in Sweden, depending on if I return in January or not. We both understand that the trick is to use the time in some way, that is, to be open to the possibilities it presents, without fitting it to some preconceived notion of study abroad. There's a line in this genius poem by gorgeous-amazing-woman-number-two (Alix Olson, co-awesome with Chris Pureka, god-dess), where she says, "these lifetimes choose the ones who will educate us and I guess that's how it always it." And although she's talking about something quite different the idea is the same - whatever one takes from time away from home, particularly in a different country, will not be a clear-cut thing. That is to say, it can't be looked for or anticipated because it will reveal itself both during and after the experience. I do not know what I'll think I will have accomplished here - the notion of generalizing the experience from my superficial understanding is pointless. Right now, I only know little things - I will miss this incredible fall, the closest of these friends, places like Gamla Uppsala, days like yesterday. Besides, bound to a home/academic situation in America that is inevitably about something (or many things), why make this time about something before I even run into it?

So these are the thoughts running through my head. Interestingly, I find myself thinking a lot about America as a country and myself as an American. Although I don't think I fit a European's stereotype of an American and although don't see myself as a typical American either, I understand myself a little more as a product of a certain country with a certain social tenor. With a left-versus-not-so-left-but-kind-of-still-yeah-left government, roughly homogeneous society and (compared to the United States) moderate to low class distinction, Sweden is a country of significantly less social conflict than America. Needless to say, the kind of environment that this creates feels like, and most likely is, an extreme contrast to volatile American society. There's a lot more nervousness, aggression (whether it's emotional, intellectual), fierceness (none of these necessarily bad things), contradiction, in America. In many ways I've come to see America as an enormous identity crisis, a thing struggling with itself and hindering itself. To a certain extent it must be like this in any country - but for some reason - size, diversity, character - America seems to make conflict stand out. Who knows.

After fika, trip to systembolaget to get the wine. Then I wound up wandering around Uppsala on various errands. In a resebyrå the clerk mistook me for dutch - yes! Victory! Manon was very, very proud of me. Just over a week until I head to the Netherlands! UUhhh soooo exciitteedd.

Goodnight!

Ok. What a day. Admittedly, it started slowly with a lazy morning, frustratingly aimless but I finally made the decision to bike to Gamla Uppsala - my second visit there. Gamla Uppsala is a series of burial mounds constructed from 400-600 AD - there are seemingly five mounds but three of them (the most prominent three physically) are the only certain burial mounds. Another is believed to be the place of the Thing, a dark ages type of administrative meeting (of sorts - more of a loose counsel). I had visited this place once before with a group of Germans in my first week here, but the rushed visit and emphasis on social interaction didn't allow time to really explore the place.

So I started with the regular bike down Kyrkogårdsgatan, but took a turn before the overpass and headed, now on bike-paths, toward Gamla Uppsala. The weather was splendid, I'll let pictures speak for themselves.


















Instead of returning home, I took the bike path to the centrum, found myself dumped on some outlying street of Uppsala (Swedish signage = poop) but navigated fairly well into the center of town. Went to go check out Systembolaget in the hopes of picking up some wine for mulled wine, but stupidly forgot my passport. So, headed home but promptly went back out to Cafe Őfre Slotts for tea and (for once) school reading. I did not at all want to move by the time seven o'clock rolled around and the cafe closed. Most of my feelings of being at home have definitely been in that Cafe - it's amazing!
Went home, met Mariella in the kitchen, and - was then seized by an outlandish idea! I've learned that if I've got the instinct or inspiration to do something I had better do it then. So I headed out to jog back to Gamla Uppsala on the same bike path (7:50 pm). The whole project was a two kilometer walk followed by a three kilometer jog, so it wasn't too hefty. But it was the devil cold outside and not at all light. Anyways. Off I went, fortunately received a text from Manon, informed her of my foolish behavior - but then she had the brilliant idea to meet me there when I arrived.
The jog was much, much shorter and easier than anticipated and was lit well until the last half mile or so. I arrived at the mounds after maybe half an hour. And although on a superficial level I'm sorry I haven't got pictures, the place at that time, the whole experience, could never be photographed. I don't mean in a literal way. With the wind and cold, and the night sky, you feel a very immediate sense of being in your own time, but then the size, the weight of the barrows seem to anchor everything in stillness. It's very grounding because you feel filled with something or absorbed into something. It's a place that demands respect and distance but cannot help but be personal as well. So when I arrived on the southern end, I felt at first great joy and then - no less energetic - great quiet. After a paced stroll to the opposite end (jumpstarted by RIDICULOUS frolicking), I met Manon and we sat on the first mound, alleged location of the Thing, talked, watched, etc. I severely depleted her licorice supply because I was freeeezing and hungrig! We took a walk around the first barrow, rounded the back just in time to see someone scramble to the top of it and, on the return trip, could see them kneeling on top with a lit candle. Presumed pagan ritual occurring.
Then came home. Hot shower (well needed!). Then Manon came over for tea and the Daily Show. And so one hell of a great day ended.

So. Here are the fields at evening. I've just come back a couple of hours ago from my fourth trip out to the same place. There is, as you can see, a herd of cows that travel up and down the side of the river here and tonight they happened to be stationed at the bridge. Here sunset begins already at around 5:30 and by 6:30 the sun is almost down.



Making Dutch-American apple pie with Manon!