Earworms, Bluebirds & a Lion Man

I am on the back of a bike. The metal bars meant to hold a package, purse or bag of groceries, is painfully digging into my rear end. I'm in a delicate state of balance. The tips of my toes are on the short bar that runs horizontally to connect to the axel of the back wheel. One slip and my toes will jam into the spokes. Even though I can't see what direction we're heading I anticipate the turns and stops by memory. In about half a minute we'll reach the end of the bridge and have to stop. The light at the intersection is rarely green whenever we pass through. I know we look completely absurd and when I'm not terrified about falling off, getting my toes stuck in the wheel, or loosing my balance, I'm giggling uncontrollably. Because I'm also balancing between two states of hysteria. I have a song stuck in my head and Annina explains to me, over her shoulder and she pedals us forward, the expression Germans use for such occurrences: earworm.

Taken August 2010, my adventure in Brussels. I took pictures of this couple being cute together on their bikes before walking past them later being street musicians near Manneken Pis. See that little rack on which the pack of water bottles sit? That is where I would perch when riding on Annina's bike.

That was last year. Sometime in the fall. In Amsterdam. With my dearest au pair friend. Only recently has a certain nostalgia for aspects of my life in the Netherlands begun to make an appearance. It usually materializes in my thoughts when I'm not really thinking. When I feel mindless. Going through the motions of something I could probably do with my eyes shut if I could. (But I wouldn't because most of those occasions are when I'm driving home from somewhere.)

My list-making self should probably start making a list of the things I realize I miss. But I probably won't and instead I have a trick that works much better than that. I save playlists. If I don't blog about something, take a picture, or make allusions in my journal, there isn't really a place for certain moments, experiences, or emotions to exist except in my memory. And memories fade, change, and sometimes disappear all together. I still remember learning about an earworm and in that memory lies the exposition of this post.

I make and save playlists for nearly everything. I have a playlist from when I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the first time. One song per chapter. If I run out of ideas for titles I'll just date it. So, the one titled "4-20" really refers to the fact that I happened to compile it on the 20th day of April and, despite what you might think, has no other association to the number arrangement. I have a playlist of songs I like listening to from back in the day when I was obsessed with playing The Sims. I have one that would be the soundtrack if I was a character in Skins. But mostly it goes by seasons, or months, and years. Here is collection of songs from the playlists I created in Holland. These are not all the songs that hold memories or were frequently blaring from my Macbook speakers or iPod headphones. These are just the ones that when I listen to now still have a overpowering orange flavor. Or an orange after taste. Or an orange spice, if even for just an instant. Orange for Holland, of course.





"Black River" by Amos Lee
When I visited Västerås I made it a point not to listen to music while I was there. (The train ride to/from Stockholm being the exception) so that the memories would seep into me and my soul in a different (and hopefully deeper) way. But when the week was over I found songs that somehow corresponded to my trips. The river that runs through Västerås, which I walked by a few times on Kulturnatt and after yoga in the castle, is called the Black River.

"Where Do My Bluebirds Fly" by The Tallest Man on Earth
The Tallest Man on Earth, aka: Kristian Matsson, is from Dalarna, Sweden. (Which is where the branches from my mother's side of the family and my father's side of the family originated at some point.) I downloaded all of his albums and EPs literally as soon as I got back to Holland from Sweden. And I listened to him every chance I got for something like two weeks straight. I don't want to say I was obsessed because that makes it seem like I'm crazy but maybe I am. I'm still pretty crazy about him. Have you ever discovered a musician and just felt so deeply connected to them and what they were singing that it was like you've known them and been listening to them your entire life? Yeah, that is how I feel about him in a nutshell. Like we were meant to be. Him, my headphones, and my heart. I listened to this particular song on repeat for hours one night while journaling about the transformation I felt happening in my soul.

"Cocaine Lights" by Phosphorescent
I listened to this song as the train back to Purmerend pulled away from Centraal Station at 12:09am on October 17th. The first two stanzas seemed perfectly timed for how I felt then. I was thinking of how much I missed BFF Brandy. The line "to be less of meat and stone / And more of feather" especially because I will never forget the time she asked me when we were probably only 14 what it would be like if we had feathers instead of skin. And Pablo Neruda's (a poet we both fell in love with on the same day in a book store in Kansas when we were again probably about 14) "Love, We're Going Home Now" is one of our favorites because we often feel like two blind birds about two blind birds searching for our homes. That October night one of the fellow au pairs I had become friends with was going home to Spain and I realized then that I would eventually being saying good bye to all the girls I spent every weekend with and almost every day Facebooking. Somehow, that night was when it finally set-in that the places in my life were not the only factors that shaped me but the people as well. It made me realize that there are so many people who you encounter and befriend. They mean something to you at some point in your life. And then life goes on. People are constantly passing through our lives. Annina walked me to the train station that night, all the way up to my platform, because that is what we do. We always walked each other to our departure points. Leaving goodbye-until-next-time for the very last moment. That was also the night I rode my bike back to the village in the dark for the first time and the cocaine lights kept me warm.

"Little Lion Man" by Mumford and Sons
I had downloaded a free Tap Tap Revenge app on my iPod and played it to pass the time away while waiting for the train. This was the only free song on there that I liked. I think I played it at least 100 times and got all the way up to the most difficult level. I can't listen to this song now and not twitch my fingers to the guitar chords.

"Big Bird in a Small Cage" by Patrick Watson
This goes a long with the bird stuff in the explanation of "Cocaine Lights." I also feel like it belongs in the soundtrack to my entire life, not just my life in Holland. The meaning is fairly easy to grasp.

In which this tale's heroine fails miserably at being the heroine

My neglect of this blog is embarrassing and really has no excuse. I don't think even the most sincere apology will be sufficient. For the past few days I haven't had access to wifi at home so I'm scrounging some off at Panera. My dearest reader, there is so much I need and want to tell you but I just don't have the time right now. Until I get my wifi fixed here is a little follow up.

Hagelslag
Remember those messy but delicious sprinkles that are a staple of the Dutch lunch? I bought a box from World Market. I have a love-hate relationship with this particular delicacy. For all the times I had to spend sweeping them from the kitchen in Holland and wiping down the children vigorously only to find them scattered about regardless, I still caved in a bought some because I suppose, in a way, I have missed them. The sprinkles that is. The children I'll address in another post.

Paul
Remember Paul, my family's foreign exchange student last summer? He stayed in my room while I was in Holland and when I got back, aside from leaving some shopping bags hidden in a corner, he also forgot some French newspapers on the floor by my bed. I've kept them.



Gifts
Remember the gifts from abroad I was excited about giving people? They've all been distributed and I think everyone liked them.


Anne Frank
Remember when I visited the secret hideaway in Amsterdam with my friend Caitlyn? And how much admiration I have for Anne? I'm volunteering now at the Georgia Commissions for the Holocaust's Anne Frank Around the World Exhibit. It makes me very happy to be able to hang out with Anne a few hours every week.

Yoga
Remember that one time I used getting back into yoga as a metaphor for adjusting after time abroad? Well, I still haven't mastered the headstand yet. I'm closer every practice. But I just wanted to fix a little case of mistaken identity. The instructor who I referred to as Glenn in that post is actually Jason. Glenn teaches on Thursday evenings and he is very different from Jason.

Sweden
Remember that one time I stayed with my wonderful relatives in Sweden? Well, I still carry that with me every day and it is a part of who I am. There is a wonderful blog, The Modern Viking Vixen: A Foreigner's Guide to American Survival, written by a Norwegian living in L.A. She is by far one of my favorite bloggers. And if you're reading this blog then you should be reading hers. I'm still flattered and honored to have been featured in one of her Motivational Monday posts. Check it out!

Adventure in Sweden - 9.24.2010

My last full day in Sweden. I tried not to think of how it seemed as thought the days had flown by and I tried my best to remember every moment, which is impossible. However, from previous experience I know for sure that all sorts of feelings, thoughts, and memories will filter back from time to time. You never really leave the places you leave behind because you carry everything with you.




The full account is after the jump.

Adventure in Sweden - 09.23.2010

No visit to Sweden would be complete without some Viking ruins, beautifully designed furniture, and some red houses, right? After two days in Stockholm we took the train back to Västerås where I stayed for the remaining two and half days of my visit. I think it is a common misconception that you've "seen" a country if you've been to it's capital or most well-known city. If you've been to Rome then that counts as seeing Italy. If you've been to Paris, then that is France. But I think any real traveller understands that there is no microcosm for any culture, language, or country in the form of a busy city. Yes, I saw and learned many things in Stockholm but my time in Västerås is what really made my visit to Sweden so enriching. And usually museums tend to be the highlight when I visit places, just out of personal preference, but I think this day was my favorite of all. It had most of my favorite things: yoga, tea, autumn, ancient things, and great company.




Read and see more after the jump!

Adventure in Sweden - 9.22.2010

We stayed the night at Suzanne's cousin's apartment which has beautiful top floor views of Lake Mälaren. Most museums don't open until 10am so we were able to sit and have coffee with the owners when they returned in the morning from France. Maybe it is a Swedish thing but I found everyone I met there to be very good conversationalists. The coffee was always really good too.





Nordic Museum
This is Sweden's largest museum of cultural history. In 1880, the founder, Artur Hazelius, adopted "känn dig själv" as the motto. Originally from temple of Apollo in Delphi, it translates to mean "know thyself." I left knowing a lot more about Sweden's fashion and traditions.






The first exhibit was the "Power of Fashion: 300 years of clothing." By showcasing clothes from three three decades (1780's, 1860's, and 1960's) it demonstrated how social groups used clothing to create their identity. I took a history of costume class at college and a 20th century fashion class while studying in Italy but it was a different experience to learn about Swedish fashion.



"Traditions, Celebrations and Festivals from the Cradle to the Grave" was also very interesting because some things like Midsummer and various elements from Christmas were carried over in my family. The same goes for the section of the museum about design.



Vasa Museum
Statistically, this is the the most visited museum in all of Scandinavia. I admit, that the main reason I wanted to go was because I knew my brothers would have been dying to see it had they been there. A big ship from the early 17th century which sunk before it had even travelled one nautical mile out of the harbor? Yeah, it is a true story. The Vasa was a warship built for King Gustavus Adolphus' navy in an attempt to strengthen it's forces. It was the largest of the five ships intended to increase the fighting force against Sweden's enemies like Poland and Denmark.

The reason for it's sinking can be put into simple terms: it did not have proper ballast. Although the ship is too large to fit in a single photograph at once there are seven floors to the museum from which can see every portion from top to bottom.






It turned out that going just to show off the pictures to my brothers and having the bragging rights to hang over their heads wasn't the only advantage. Gustavus considered himself a pretty big deal and had the ship decorated with elaborate wood carvings of various Roman iconography in order to express his power. Once again I found that no matter where I go - no matter how far North of Rome I find myself - Classics is always there waiting for me.






Shopping
In summary, Stockholm was wonderful, amazing, epic, and every other adjective of greatness one can imagine. However, the only con was trying to find suitable souvenirs. What does one buy when one's family already has dala horses of every size, carved trolls and Tomtars, Pippi Longstocking dolls, Viking gear, wood butter knives, and everything by Astrid Lindgren? I love Swedish handicrafts but I was limited on suitcase space for my flights back to Holland. In the back of my mind I knew I should just give in and buy something just to say "Hey, I bought this in Sweden" but I couldn't bring myself to cop out. So, I ended up buying one t-shirt for my brothers to fight over and some wall hangings for my mom and two grandmothers which I will decorate myself with paints (but I don't want to give away the details in case they're reading this.) For myself, a headband of Lapland wool. Note to all travelers: don't let yourself get too wrapped up in buying gifts for others - you deserve something after all that walking and picture taking. You deserve something of your own so that when someone comments or compliments when you wear it you can say, "Oh, this old thing? I bought it when I was in Sweden." And then you can remember, briefly, those two days you spent in Stockholm. But really, how could you ever forget a city as great as this?

Adventure in Sweden - 9.21.2010

When traveling it is always best to not have any expectations. Expectations risk disappointment and they close your mind to the full experience. There were a few places I was interested in seeing when Siv and Suzanne took me via train from Västerås to Stockholm, but I was more excited simply to just be there. Since I had no real expectations I enjoyed every moment, even when we were walking down seemingly unremarkable streets. And after the first few hours on the first day of two I think I had already decided that Stockholm is my new favorite European city, despite the fact that my heart is still so full of Florence that there are always echoes from Italy no matter how far north I go.






More pictures and text after the jump...

Adventure in Sweden - 9.20.2010

I started day three with a jog and a runny nose. I added an extra 10 minutes on to my normal run time because I was feeling charged and I wanted to step on more crunchy leaves. After lunch Suzanne and I went shopping in the city center. By late afternoon the overcast sky had cleared and the changing leaves looked brilliant against the blue sky. So, we set off with coffee and apple pie for a little excursion to one of the islands on the lake.

Almo-Lindo
Suzanne's family owns a lake house originally built in 1906 but renovated in the early 60's and they've gone there every summer since. I'm sure the red paint looks just as picturesque in the warm weather as it does in autumn, especially while we were there because the sun was moving low on the horizon. We had our fika by the water. Suzanne gave me a tour of the house, explaining who usually slept in which rooms and what she and her sister had named them when they were younger. The king's room. The bird room. Ect. It was funny to see souvenirs from Minnesota and to see all sorts of normal Swedish things that I grew up thinking were special because they were Swedish. Here those things are just normal. Real, everyday things.

Adventure in Sweden - 9.19.2010

After a day of planes and a night of art, music, and the chilly air of autumn I love so much, I slept late into the morning. Suzanne and her fiance Bennet shared a beautiful brunch with me. I like my Sundays lazy and slow. Sunday in Sweden was just that. A long walk. A cat nap while Suzanne and Bennet voted (it was election time.) A family dinner at Siv's. I think this first full day made me finally realize that I was actually in Sweden.

Lake Mälaren
Suzanne and her dog, Mimmi, took me down to the edge of the lake. We parked the car and explored the new boutique that had just opened in the old tulhusset (customs house.) We walked out of the harbor and roamed for well over an hour, maybe two, among the apartment buildings by the water. We crossed the red bridge to more apartments. Past an old and unused brick building. Around some old boat sheds. We paused at a lighthouse boat to peek inside and walk to the bow. At the marina, far from where we started, we turned back.

Adventure in Sweden - 09.18.2010

Traveling requires patience and preparation. I packed my suitcase the day before and I made sure I had my passport, iPod, and a warm scarf. But of course, plans including airports and airplanes rarely go smoothly. To save money I booked two flights: EasyJet from Amsterdam to London and Ryanair from London to Västerås. To fly direct from Amsterdam was too expensive.

I had to wake up around 6:30am to get dressed and get to Purmerend for the 7am train. It took about fifty minutes to get to the airport but at least I didn't have to take any transfers. I bought some breakfast first thing then discovered that my first flight was delayed by 45 minutes. All I could do was wait and try not to bite my nails about possibly missing the flight out from London. EasyJet and Ryanair are discount airlines or "busses with wings" which means there are no seat assignments and everyone lines up then rushes to board for best choice of seats. So I waited for the gate number to be posted. Then I waited in line for security. Then I waited in a tense line at the gate, everyone eager to get on ahead of the people around them.

At London Stanstead it is a maze of escalators and busy corridors to get from one of the terminal to another. And then a tram to get to the central building where one has to go through Border Control and security again even if they are taking a connecting flight. And then another tram to get to the next terminal. With all the lines and stress of getting where I needed to be on time I completely passed out on the plane to Sweden. When we landed, unloaded, and lined up to have our passports checked I felt like I was dreaming. I couldn't believe I was in Sweden. Even after Suzanne and Siv welcomed me with warm hugs in the lobby I still couldn't grasp the fact that I was in Sweden.

As we drove back to Suzanne's apartment the first thing I noticed were the trees. Tall, thick, masses of trees. The Holland that I know is flat, green pastures. Moist air, misty mornings, and canal. In Sweden the crisp air, the trees, and their leaves' faint prelude to fall immediately reminded me of Minnesota. That is when I felt safe even though I still felt like I was dreaming. That feeling of comfort and love never faded or faltered once during my stay.

Västerås Kulturnatt (Culture Night)
Fortunately, my first night in Sweden lined up perfectly with Västerås' annual culture night. Various events and activities were hosted throughout the city by all sorts of businesses, galleries, museums, and what not. It was the perfect introduction for me because we spent the night walking around the city from one place to the next.

Suzanne and I began with a local vocalist's recital of Edith Piaf songs since Edith is a favorite of mine. "Je Ne Regrette Rien" echoed in my head from then on. As we walked towards our next point of interest we stopped at Formgruppen which is a local craftsmen's shop that sells wool, ceramic, and wood creations.


Then we continued on to the new Karlsgatan which had just opened the previous weekend. We listened to Torbjörn Grass play a twelve string guitar and harp guitar. Then we wandered the gallery. I found a painting by Elsa Backlund-Celsing that I'd love to share with you but I didn't take a picture and I can't find one on the internet.

We met Siv at the Konserthusset and attempted to watch some couples doing the tango but the crowd was too large. So, we packed ourselves in line for the dance school's recital in the large auditorium. From there we marched arm in arm to listen to the Maria Choir in the warm, candlelit Domkyrka.

My first night in Sweden ended with a bang. The closing of culture night was celebrated with fire dancers in front of the town hall and fireworks from the bell tower.

Adventure in Sweden: An Introduction

Tomorrow I will begin a seven day sequence of posts about my seven days in Sweden. It would be impossible for me to include every detail and much will be left out. Some unintentionally so. In order to prevent any confusion I shall set the stage.

I stayed in Västerås which is approximately 53 minutes west from Stockholm by train. It sits on the shores of Lake Mälaren which stretches all the way to the Baltic Sea. Every night, except two, I was hosted by my mother's Swedish "sister", Suzanne. I brought one suitcase. I took over five-hundred pictures. I had the time of my life.


Grandma Sue.


In order to give you a sense of what going to Sweden meant to me I shall tell you a story.*

Once upon a time in Sweden there was a girl named Greta who fell in love with a boy named Emil. Emil left Sweden for the great land of opportunity, America. Greta had to wait until she was twenty-one before she could join him. Her family was sad to see her go, especially her sister, Helga. In 1920 Greta traveled to the US all by herself and married Emil. Not too long after the birth of their first child, they bought a beautiful new house on Rose Avenue in St. Paul, Minnesota. They raised six children in that house. Five girls and one boy. One of the daughters, Susan, is my maternal grandmother.

Every three months Helga would receive a letter from Greta in the US with updates on her children and life in the US. After some time these letters began to include updates on her grandchildren. My great-grandmother Greta died barely a year after I was born. All that is left of the one time I met her, when I was too young to remember and too chubby to walk just yet, is a photograph. My mother named me after Emil by combining two female names she liked that still echoed his.

Helga also had many children. The youngest is Siv. My grandmother and Siv are cousins. While growing up Grandma Sue returned to Sweden with her parents a few times through the years to visit the branches of the family that remained in the homeland.

In 1972-1973, Siv's stepdaughter, Suzanne, lived and went to John Marshall High School with my mother. They have stayed in touch since. I met Suzanne and her son Erik, who is two years younger than me, for the first time in 2000 when they visited the US. I was twelve at the time and I don't think I had any concept of how big the world is and how small it can be at the same time. Or how it is such a blessing to have a family full of history and love. Flash forward ten years and four generations down. Emil and Greta left Sweden but Sweden never left my family. And I finally got to go "home."

*Some details are not precise. I'll have to double check my facts but this is a true story.

An Update and an Upcoming Adventure

I've been pretty bad about posting about life here aside from my adventures in Amsterdam. There is so much I could write about and I promise I'll make an effort to post more often. For now I have some good news to share:


Owen gives this post TWO thumbs up.

• SWEDEN On September 18th I will be leaving Holland for a week in Sweden. On Saturday morning I leave for Sweden. I will be in Sweden for a week. I've had my flights booked for just over a month and my departure is just a few days away but I still can't believe it. I am unfathomably excited for this trip for many reasons. I will be staying with my mother's second cousin once removed, Suzanne. She is the daughter of my great-grandmother's sister's daughter. I think...

My Swedish heritage has always been a part of my life. Scattered among my childhood memories is that Christmas I wore St. Lucia's wreath of candles and served coffee and buns to both sides of my family while they sang, playing with Dalarna horses with my younger brother like they were My Little Ponies, making wishes on pepparkakor cookies by placing them in my palm then pressing down (if it breaks into three pieces your wish comes true), platefuls of handmade Swedish meatballs, the intense smell of cardamon, and a calendar of Carl Larsson paintings in my grandmother's kitchen every year. As I've gotten older I've come to gain a deep appreciation for my ancestors and their journey to America. My great-grandmother got on a ship all by herself when she was only eighteen! And I love that both my grandmas have kept our family history alive.

So, to actually go to Sweden at last is surreal. I really can't think of a more perfect time in the phases of my life for me to do this.

• SHUTTERFLY All my travel pictures can now be viewed here on my sharing site at Shutterfly. The monthly MB limit on Flickr was too constraining. If I kept at it it would be a year before all my pictures made it up so I got an account at Shutterfly instead. I can upload as many photos as I want and I can organize them all fairly easily. I have started putting up pictures from my previous travels in India and Italy. Paris, London, Ireland, and Holland will be added soon. Captions will make their way onto every picture soon as well but I just couldn't wait to give you the link.