Too small for too big

photo: Finnish lake in its beauty; the sunset.

Keywords: cross-border cooperation, math, work and Viking Line

Writing the final keywords of the abstract felt like the most pleasant thing I’ve done for a while. Lately, I had been repeating the ‘cross-border cooperation’ (the main subject my work was built on) in writing and in speech more than any other combination of words I know. It has easily pushed the ‘I love you’ off the top spot! I was almost concerned with the way the thesis had invaded my vocabulary and turned it into the EU-related bull. I’m SO DONE with cross-border cooperation! No doubt my thesis partner shares the feeling. However, it seems like my opinion has very little impact on the cruel reality, as cross-border cooperation is going to remain present in my life for the upcoming months, this time in the form of relationship with the one I love.

Little hint of happiness was brought upon me as the result of joining the Viking Line club. Cruising on a ferry from Stockholm felt like a luxurious one-night holiday. The next morning came way too soon, my companion and I, would have both chosen to stay on-board a while longer. It felt like there’s nothing better than sleeping in a big hotel-room-like cabin with a double bed and looking over the sea at breakfast the next morning. It made us both forget our school responsibilities for a moment.

I altered the time zone on my new pink mobile and realized I won’t be changing it back for a while...

The month of May was a rollercoaster ride; screw it, the whole past year had been that! I’ve been shocked by my own ability to survive the impossible – financial time series, regressions and other similar concepts emphasizing the total lack of understanding on my part. And on top of it all, I’m damn proud to say I had finally submitted my Bachelor’s Thesis – the 100-page written entity and a source of the major pain in the ass which had weirdly become pleasant over time. Someone famous once said – if you stick around long enough, people will learn to appreciate you. Seems like the same goes with the pain in the backdoor too.

I got a job. The kind that makes you feel big and small, simultaneously. “BIG” because the job is demanding and designed to integrate all my hypothetical professional skills and “SMALL” because it raises serious doubts in my mind about whether I actually possess those qualities.

Failure is such a motivating factor. Hunting for the right job was exciting, although at times nerve-wracking. It was like gambling – you put in all your stakes and hope to hit the jackpot. Only in case of the job hunt, the failure is the aspect that made me try harder, not the actual jackpot. I mean, I never really expected to get the job!

The race was fun but was I prepared for the happy ending?

Helsinki time

photo: On board. Viking Line ferry, the route from Helsinki to Stockholm. (June'07)

It's been ages and ages since I last put my thoughts in writing.. Things have happened, life has changed and I've moved on leaving the dear little Skövde behind.

Since the 1st of June I'm officially a "big-city-girl", at least on the Scandinavian scale. I have graduated and started work. I'll be back with an in-depth update shortly! And if anyone's eager for a preview in the meantime, e-mail me. :)

Greetz from Helsinki, 3lina.

Sunshine on money

photo: a view of Stockholm in spring

The spring has arrived! These last few days of March have been very convincing - sunshine, plus degrees and even occasional birds’ singing. Although I haven’t been yet able to get rid of my scarf nor my gloves, the first signs of warmth work like magic – I feel energetic and I easily wake up early! I’ve moved all my plants, tortured by the dark winter period, to the window pane and got some vanilla ice cream and fresh strawberries for a home-made milkshake. Mmm...

Yesterday I had our 30 square meter flat all to myself. I played a good house wife half of the day – cleaning and doing laundry, and spent the rest on relaxing. I have a new hobby and I’m getting obsessive about it – the stock market. Firstly, I’ve spent the past seven months studying finance here at University of Skövde, which has basically used up most of my free time. I’ve been eating and breathing finance long enough to begin to understand and like it. Secondly, my little brother recommended a book by an American Japanese guy who is convinced you can make a lot of money from no money at all. What a wonderful revelation! This guy is pretty anxious about telling people how to retire rich and young.

Two things immediately made me cautious - people’s weakness for silly guidebooks on life, and people’s eagerness to earn money by selling bull. But I think the Japanese guy has a point, in his own way, at least in terms of motivating people to try harder. So, I gave it a try, listened to a couple of his audio books and got intrigued. Ambitious people like him earn money by shaking our reality a little. It's not as much the idea of getting rich, as the idea of testing what I've learnt at school, that excites me.

Maybe we do need a wake up call every once in a while; it doesn't really matter where it comes from as long as we hear it. I've done shit jobs like cleaning toilets and serving junk food. I've been on my feet 16 hours straight doing double shifts in the desperate hope of earning more. I had a shocking over 3000 hours of labour stated on my junk food work reference and I don't see my bank account being any more impressive than it was 4 years ago when I first started studying full time and working nights and weekends. I should have just skipped the trouble and made the money out of nothing, too bad the Japanese guy wasn't around to give a hand. But since I've done the best I could to invest in my professional skills by staying at school, I damn sure want to get the interest payment, sooner rather than later!

I’m lucky to have a person in my life I can talk to about such subjects, someone I can share thoughts and create ideas with. Even though we might not retire young nor rich; we will get a kick out of trying!

Friend today, friend tomorrow

There’s a little back-stabber in all of us. I doubt it’s possible to go through life avoiding back-stabbing and getting back-stabbed. It certainly is an unpleasant thing to do or experience, however for some reason it continues its sweet coexistence among us. Recently, I have experienced something that is in my mind classified as back-stabbing… actually within a year I’ve witnessed about a couple of such cases. I guess that says something about me, judging by the people I get involved with.

But then again, could the back-stabbing be considered less of a terrible thing to do if the back-stabber didn’t realize doing it? I could argue that in many situations this is actually the case. I’ve also heard - “I had no choice”, given as a reason to justify the so called "unintentional back-stabbing". Whatever the truth is, if there even is one, there are always people choosing sides of either the doer or the victim, which leads me to thinking that the verdict is mostly dependant on our personal interpretation. However angry this might make me, I’m willing to agree that an “innocent back-stabber” might not have to be judged as ruthlessly as an intentional one. But how to distinguish the two?

A week ago I received an SMS from a friend telling me there’s going to be our secondary school class reunion this spring. I counted the years that had passed since, it’s been 12 years! Can’t believe time flies this fast… but what’s even more amusing - can’t believe I can’t remember those people! (I don’t really mind not to.) I bet everyone remembers me though - I was the only foreigner in the class, in the school and in the whole damn neighbourhood.

It made me think of the people I do remember - the real friends I have, the ones I’ve known since childhood. Whenever I meet my childhood friends, it seems as if we just spoke yesterday. It’s like nothing ever changes between us regardless of how long we go on without seeing each other. Real friendships make the world a so much better place. It’s heartwarming. Sure, I’ve made friends after high school too and some of them are very dear to me (you know who you are guys!) but somehow the adult life friendships and the childhood ones are not the same. We’ve had conversations about this among friends and we seem to agree - friendships are different once you enter the “adult life”. Makes me wonder, when does the ability to make very close friends end and the ability to be cautious begins?

There is a great Russian saying which my granny never fails to repeat to me: "Ne imei sto rublei a imei sto druzei", roughly translated – “Do not have one hundred dollars but have one hundred friends”. Good thing to remember. Although, mind my poor student’s thinking - hundred dollars wouldn’t hurt either. ;) I guess the point is - friends are a way more valuable investment.

Thinking of my friends, it makes me happy knowing that the back-stabbing was never coming from the people closest to me. I think that also tells something about me, judging by the people I care about.

Two down, one to go

photo: a heart-melting latte

The man I love speaks three languages, two of which I’m fluent in. Ironically enaugh, the language I’m most in need of at present, is the one I don’t have. It would be handy if languages were sold in a papercup, just like a take-away latte – “One take-away Swedish, please!” I’d totally buy that!

The truth is, I’ve studied Swedish for years but I don’t speak it. I often feel awkward having to argue with people about this minor fact. I mean - I speak four languages, I would know if I spoke five! Moreover, understanding Swedish in Finland (i.e. fairly easy) is nowhere close to understanding it in Sweden. I’m frustrated with having to go into all these details and repeatedly feeling guilty for not being able to speak the language.

It seems almost too familiar. I admit, I had a continuous frustration during my stay in Spain caused by my language disability, up until the moment I realised - I finally speak Spanish! It’s a challenging process - learning a language in its natural environment. First everyone around you seem like a monotonous wave of sounds, after a while the ear starts distinguishing strange words – none of which make sense. Just when you’re about angry enaugh at yourself and at everyone else for not understanding, it strikes you! ... I love the last part and hate the prologue!

In Brussels, a middle-aged woman once bitterly remarked to me - “You are in Brussels, you are supposed to speak French!” That happened at my regular gym, in a steamy room with a sign ‘Finnish Sauna’ on its entrance door. Pardon me, I thought, for having the nerve to come to your country without first being fluent in French! But in the moment of confusion I apologized; she didn’t seem like someone who gets out much. Thinking back, I regret not asking her why she didn’t speak Finnish, after all, we were in the Finnish Sauna. (Whatever happened to speaking Flemish?)

I know a Mexican guy, who spent a few years studying in Finland and can’t spell the simplest three letter word - ‘hei’ (‘hello’); he cuts it down to two letters every time - ‘ei’ (‘no’). Survived Finland just fine, since most of us speak English, Swedish and some even Spanish, among other languages.

Finnish people are modest enaugh to understand that the world is too busy to learn their language, so they study foreign languages instead. I consider it smart thinking. The Swedish wisely recognize that fact about their language too. But certainly not the Spanish, nor the French Belgians. They are convinced the world must make an effort - and the world does.

Sweden is indulging in that aspect. I could survive years and years here without ever really having to learn the language, but the thing is – I want to. The other day, my love was teaching me the correct pronounciation, although that is in itself debatable. So let’s call it - the correct pronounciation of the Stockholm region, after all, I’m in no position to choose. I discovered that I’m not capable of producing a sound as simple as ‘h’. This is unheard of! How many h’s can there be? - apparently many, and none of mine suit! Problem two - my ‘r’ is no good either.

Now that I’ve successfully established my various oral defects, maybe it’s about time to start turning them into assets. I’d better not watch those Swedish commercials. ;)

Sweden is a foreign country

For some time now, I have pondered why do Swedish people in Skövde not look Swedish at all? There are faces alluding to various exotic origins - Indian, African, Chinese, Arab, South American, Central European; as opposed to those who can be associated with typical Swedish – blond hair, blue eyes – very Nordic, very cold. It seems like among young Swedes names like Rodrigo, Jorge and Asat appear just as frequently as Björn or Lars. Everytime I meet someone new, coming from Sweden but looking foreign, I have to make an effort to remember their name because of it’s novelty to me.

Another element of surprise. Someone with unlikely local features having a typical Swedish name - happens here all the time! That must be the integration in second (or third) generation; outsiders becoming insiders. One of my Swedish-foreign friends said: “Why not give a baby a typical Swedish name, might help him get a better job in the future”. Now that I come to think of it, I am myself one of those in Finland - having a seemingly local name but the facial features not quite fitting the familiar type. Rather confusing from the perspective of a common Finn.

And it’s not just Skövde, after a while I came to the conclusion - it’s Sweden. According to the official country statistics, 16 percent of Swedish population are either foreign born or have both foreign born parents. That’s one and a half million people of non Swedish descendants. No wonder the poor Swedes (the blond ones) grill themselves in solariums to the extent of health hazard - they are just trying to fit in!

It is therefore a logical consequence that a fair part of Swedish look foreign and the concepts such as ‘Swedish-Turkish’ or ‘Swedish-Chilenian’ have entered the common use of the everyday spoken language. Sweden has transformed its face, it has become multinational, with many of its inhabitants being untrackable based solely on looks. Sweden evolved into a cameleon country.

If this doesn’t convince you, watch some tv - there are actually commercials on the national television in bad Swedish, assumingly targeting the foreign share of the population. The first time I saw the latest IKEA commercial, I had to stop and think whether that was in Swedish at all. Maybe the Swedes had to think too.

There's no place like Skövde

photo: the lake on the mount of Billingen

It has taken me two tries and a total of ten months to finally be able to call this tiny Swedish town - my home.

It first came to me around Christmas, I was away for a couple of weeks and caught myself thinking of our home and how I miss everything in it. I'm certainly not spoilt with too much space over here, nor the privacy, which would be a somewhat difficult thing to achieve in about 30 square meter room, shared. But somehow none of this matters. They say - 'Home is where the heart is', well, my heart is here. I suspect it has been here for some time now, I obviously left it in Skövde the last time around, simply lost it by accident.

Funny thing about Skövde, hundreds and hundreds of students from abroad come to the local University for a semester or two. They all party, complain, have fun, feel bored out of their minds... it all goes in regular cycles of ups and downs, but the thing is - they all end up loving it! It has always stunned me how people keep on coming back, because amazingly enaugh many of them do - either to visit or stay. Mind you, this place has 50 000 inhabitants, 3 night clubs to choose from (actually only one, if you ask me) and among other attractions - two dormitories stuffed with exchange students. People come back from all over - Spain, Belgium, Germany, Holland, USA, England, Greece, Italy, Austria, France etc. etc.

There's a phenomenon no one is willing to confirm but I know it's there, called - coming back for love. Yes, international students do that. They try to cover it up by pretending it's all about school, but the fact is, it's their heart they long to recover. I used to be one of those 'in the cycle'-people, my friends from my exchange semester of spring 2005, thought I was joking when I first mentioned going back. However, now I'm proudly contributing to the fast growing phenomenon and I've never felt happier.

It took me half a year home in Finland and nearly a year in hectic French speaking Brussels to realise Skövde is not at all a bad place to stay, for a while. Unlike in Brussels or Madrid (where I used to live), here I can actually hear my thoughts! What a shocking luxury. Skövde's mount of Billingen is breath taking beautiful, any time of the year. The cafés at the central square seduce with the fresh baked cake and the scent of coffee. There's always space in the bodypump session at the gym and in the grocery store. Skövde gives you a taste of simple life. Why not enjoy it, at least small bites at a time?