To Buy, Or Not To Buy

That is the question.

Sorry I've been MIA for the past week or so. My immune system finally threw in the towel and basically gave me the finger and stormed off and left a nasty note that said "Dear Sarah, let me know when you're ready to be a real human being and start dressing for the weather and not living on frozen berries and stale cereal, THANKS." As great as Gilmore Girls is, a detailed account of how I consumed seasons of it in a row while laying in bed, breathing through my mouth, groaning every once in a while and trying to muster the strength to put on a pair of pants isn't all that riveting. With all that quality "me" time, though, I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up:

Europe According to Sweden

(Props to Carson for sharing this)

Odds and Ends

Firstly, happy birthday, Thomas!

Secondly, Melissa came by a few days ago to drop off some produce, since she was leaving for a week in Spain with her boyfriend; the sudden acquisition of an avocado, a tomato, and a lime could only mean one thing: MOTHER EFFING GUAC TIME. If you give a mouse a cookie he's going to want some milk and if you give a Sarah guacamole she's going to want some salsa, so I took a chance on ICA's generic brand salsa (being a college student is fun). Judging from the selection at various Swedish/Dutch/Belgian supermarkets, Northern Europeans haven't yet acquired a taste for spicy foods/Mexican cuisine, so the "Mexican food section" is split into two kinds of tomato-based dips: salsa and taco sauce. I still do not know what taco sauce actually is. I consider it the Spam of Sweden. Anyways, I chose the hot salsa because a food is not spicy enough unless it makes your eyes water and your nose run; maybe I grew spoiled this summer with this delicious, bombastically spicy chipotle-raspberry salsa I was buying at Trader Joe's (sometimes I hear myself say things/watch myself type things and wonder how I've gone so long in life without getting punched in the face), but there's no way they didn't switch the labels at the salsa factory. This was the mildest salsa I have ever consumed in my life. I might as well have eaten a tomato. It was kind of the opposite of when this girl at my 17th birthday party thought that the wasabi (yeah, I had sushi at my party, along with tofu kebabs, WHAT OF IT) was guacamole and was unpleasantly surprised my the instant clearing of her sinuses. Lessons learned: never trust a Swede with a food I would most prefer to eat with a frozen margarita, and always check the identity of green, pasty foods.

Thirdly, I checked the sunrise/sunset times for my last week in Gothenburg. Sunrise: 4:20 AM. Sunset: 10:00 PM. WORTH IT.

Fourthly, I tried to go to Handelspub again last night. Got there at 8:20, still had to wait for forty minutes before becoming completely fed up and turning around and leaving. NOT WORTH IT. So over you, Handelspub.

Alla Hjärtans Dag

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! I quite like Valentine's Day, actually. I don't really like celebrating it in a couple-y, relationship-y way; this may be out of jealousy, as I am too awkward and clumsy to enjoy a romantic dinner without it ending up on my lap, but the reason is not important. Valentine's Day is great just like Halloween is great: it's a fun holiday associated with fond memories of classroom parties and Disney cards and JuJu hearts and decorations and dressing for a theme (if I had one wish it would be that every day were a theme party) and Gal-entine's Day Secret Cupid and unnecessary commercialization of a former European religious holiday. Also, discount Peeps at CVS the day after. Like, right now, I am eating strawberry PEZ out of a pink, heart-shaped PEZ-dispenser that says "Be Mine" on it (thanks, Mom), and it is both delicious and what Valentine's Day is all about.

A wise friend, Janet Hefferan, was once asked by some asshole why she didn't have a boyfriend. Her response? "Because no one loves Janet like Janet loves Janet." Smart girl. I splurged (66:- instead of 49:-, big spender!) on a bottle of fair trade, organic Argentinean Malbec, bought some dark chocolate, and downloaded Black Swan. Date night with one Sarah Haack is on.

I'd also like to spend this Valentine's Day honoring another new love in my life: Gothenburg. An exchange student and I were talking about our time here in the 'Burg, and we decided that there's a certain love-hate relationship that develops. When people ask me how my time here in Sweden has been,  I'll say how cold it is, how I haven't seen sunlight in a weekend, how SysBo is never open, how expensive things are, etc. Really, though, I love this city. Let me count the ways:

The crispness and quality of the air. There is nothing like walking outside on a bright, chilly morning and breathing in that clean Swedish air. My lungs have never felt better than in Gothenburg

A public transportation system whose trams and buses always run on time

Taking a tram on a Friday night when it's packed with drunken Swedish 20-somethings like they were sardines and trying to figure out what they're saying

Taking the 2 on a Sunday morning and being the only person on it

Afterwork

Christmastime: the markets, the lights, everything

Kungsportsavenyn, "The Avenyn," which is heated from below so you don't have to worry about slipping on the ice

Ice skating in Heden

Walking through Haga with friends

Le Petit Cafe and its to-die-for quiche

Men who openly enjoy quiche, yoga, and doing their hair

Men who neither cat-call nor slut-shame. I had a discussion with my Norwegian/Swedish friend about this, and he asked if there was still a guys are studs/girls are sluts dichotomy in the States, as that mentality doesn't exist in Sweden. I said yes, to some degree. He was like, "WTF?" and I was like, "I know, right, WTF?"

Having my own apartment. I loved Letts/Centennial, but there is nothing better than cooking breakfast and making tea in your underwear at 8 AM while dancing around to Pink Martini without having to worry about disturbing anyone

The ferry ride to the southern archipelago

Listening to the sing-song conversations of drunken old men at 11 AM while waiting for the tram

The challenge of making it SysBo on time before it closes on a Saturday afternoon

Cider, or, if you're feeling particularly biddiesque, Xide. It's Sweden's answer to Smirnoff Ice, and it is damn tasty

Fika. There's something to be said about a society that mandates in labor contracts that you must take a substantial break every afternoon to drink coffee, eat pastries, and socialize.

Jens Lekman and Jose Gonzalez

The first sunny day after a week of rain

The opportunity to wear boots and a cute hat every day

Ping-Pong Pub nights

Friendly people

Beautiful people

A ubiquity of second-hand and vintage stores

An H&M every three blocks

Two IKEAs within 30-minutes of my apartment

The view from the top of Gothia Towers at night

That the word for children is "barn" and the word for grandchildren is "barnbarn"

Watching the sun set at 5:00 PM and knowing you've made it through the worst of the winter

Shameless Plug

Are you in DC? Then I expect you to be here:

Proceeds go to VDAY, an organization founded by Vagina Monologues author Eve Ensler, to help stop violence against women, and to assist those already affected by it. Plus, the lovely ladies of VagMons pour their heart and soul into these performances; I've had the privilege of being part of the cast for the past two years, and there is no better feeling than seeing your community come out to support both you and the women represented in these stories. So, show some love to the women of AU this weekend! Do it!

Spotted:

Melissa and I were on the tram the other afternoon, when an older man interrupted us and asked if we were studying here in Gothenburg. We said yes, and got to talking; he had lived in the United States for the past 40 years, and was here in Gothenburg just to visit family for a month or so. He had moved to the United States to attend Abilene Christian University on a soccer scholarship, and then was eventually recruited by the The Philadelphia Eagles as a kicker. He told us about his family; he has two daughters our age, one who is currently in the Phantom of the Opera on Broadway, and the other who is studying International Relations at NYU. He was a really sweet old man, and full of great stories, and I figured that, as a former NFL player, there would have to be some information about him, right? Right!

Turns out with was Ove Johansson (that's the only picture I could find of him, Wiki says that those are his daughters), kicker for the Philadelphia Eagles in 1977, and the man who holds the record for the longest field goal ever at an American football game, 69 yards. How cool is that? Bet he says "wuh-ter" and "beh-gull." Anyways, now I can add him to the list of celebrities with whom I've had brief run-ins. The tally continues!

And they said you couldn't stalk people without Facebook. HA.

OH BROTHER

Remember when my heater was broken a few weeks ago? Well, turns out Heatergate was the start of a new trend. Yay, I'm in "it" girl! Can I get a cover of Nylon now? Anyways, the brain trust at Cosmopolitan reports:

Researchers found a link between cranking up the heat and gaining poundage, according to an article published in the journal Obesity Reviews and reported on in the New York Times.  

They also discovered that turning down the heat could help you shed Lbs. Without getting into too much of the science behind it, when people are exposed to slightly chilly conditions (think: in the 60s), a process called non-shivering thermogenesis kicks in. And that causes your body to burn calories

One expert told the Times, “When we put people in a 60-degree room, they increase their energy expenditure by 100 or 200 calories a day if they’re in light clothing." Hmm, keeping our apartments at that temperature doesn't exactly sound appealing, but crazier things have been done to lose weight...

There are so many things wrong with this, I don't even know where to begin. Maybe with this:

(Of the many traits and qualities Liz Lemon and I share, a propensity for obnoxiously over-the-top eye-rolling is among them)

I know that the editors at Cosmo lack the ability to report on anything not associated with attaining perfectly voluminous hair ("That's why her hair is so big, it's full of secrets!" <3 you Mean Girls), pleasing a man (usually with some tip including ice, wtf?), or recommending we eat grilled chicken on a bed of whole grain rice with a spritz of lime (zesty!) ad nauseum, but this is just ridiculous. Encouraging readers to freeze themselves thin? You have got to be kidding me. This is an entirely new level of insanity. It is certifiably LUDA. Although, this explains why Swedish girls are so skinny. It will be 10° outside and they'll be walking around in tights, short dresses, and cropped leather jackets. AREN'T YOU COLD? You have to be cold. I refuse to believe otherwise. Please PLEASE for the love of all that is good in the world, put on a coat. I am cold just looking at you.

Unfortunately, YouTube doesn't have any clips of Ludacris yelling "LUDA!" over and over. That's such a shame.

Finer Things Club

Thanks to two of my new friends, Melissa and Jurga, I am on my way to becoming World's Classiest Broad. I told them one evening when we were hanging out that, while I love going out to a good party every once in a while, I felt like last semester I didn't get to experience the vast spectrum of cultural life that Gothenburg has to offer. Going to the same student bars and clubs can get tiresome week after week, no matter how much fun they are, and I was ready to try new things. They felt the exact same way, and since then, we've been making an effort to switch up our activities as much as possible. Last week, we went to Nefertiti, Gothenburg's famous jazz club; it was a nice change of pace, and the venue was amazing. Tuesday night is "free play" night so to speak, so it was a collective of about seven people just jamming together. I'm usually pretty neutral-to-ehhhh on jazz, but I loved watching how these musicians could play together on the spot, almost like they were having a conversation with their instruments. Also, Swedes always seemed so stoic, so it was great to see them so passionate and expressive, especially about something so moving and rhythmic as jazz. We kind of felt like wine, and upon the encouragement of Jurga and Melissa, we ordered a semi-nice, semi-priced bottle to share. I thought I liked wine before, but turns out what I thought I liked is actually just grape juice with a kick because this wine was GOOD. Totally understand now how people can taste wine without just being like "this tastes fine? it's grapey? i like it" which is kind of my general reaction.

 I definitely felt like I had moved up a few notches up on the Swank Scale by the end of the night.  

Yesterday, Yuri, Melissa, and I went to the Världskulturmuseet; it was pretty small, only one exhibit, but still worth a visit. The current exhibit, Destination X, focused on traveling, both in regards to tourists and immigrants. One of the highlights was a wheel of fortune, if you will, with different travel opportunities; whatever you land on should be your next destination.

That sounds fun! Maybe Anthony, Zoe, and I can reunite our band from freshman year. Glockenspiel? Also, we could totally team up with Belle & Sebastian which would be way too cool.

The exhibit was also covered with pop-art quotes about traveling. Some hit home, some were eye-opening, and others were just well-said and interesting. Stand-outs to follow:

"There are no bad journeys, except for those that lead to the gallows."

"Why would you travel, travel so far away- wherever you travel you are always by yourself?"

I've met many people in hostels who had been traveling for as long as six months by themselves. Sounds miserable. I love having a friend next to me at all times, just to have someone with whom to share the experience. Good company is essential to good traveling.

Privilege

This guy wrote our Global Studies textbook!

This one struck me in particular. It's something I've been grappling with here, how much my traveling, my personal search leisure, company, and adventure, has affected the environment. Except for winter break, I've mostly been flying from country to country (train rides could take days), and I feel guilty every time I book a flight. I'm going to repress that guilt until next August, when I start taking environmental studies courses again. Excited for inevitable period of manic attempts to atone for my ecological sins.

Anyways, the Världskulturmuseet was great, and I can't wait to try to play Pokemon with the musuems in Gothenburg. You know, gotta catch 'em all. Continuing our efforts to explore the city we call home for the next four months, we're going SALSA DANCING tomorrow night. Excited! Pictures of me looking awkward to follow, I'm sure.

Gothenburden

Handelspub is the student bar (or, as the Euros would say, pub) located on the bottom floor of the business school, Handelsshögskolan. Every Wednesday night, they have fun house music and ridiculously cheap drinks and it is an all-around generally good time. That is, except, for the waiting. OH, THE WAITING. The dance floor and 25:- Leffe is an extremely alluring combination for what seems like all 30,000 students who attend U o' Gburg. I mean, I'm speaking hyperbolically, but still. You can expect to wait one to two hours before getting in the bar, which is, to say the least, frustrating. Less frustrating, though, when you're surrounded by your equally frustrated friends. At least you can make fed-up faces together and convince each other to stay "just ten more minutes" for the next few hours.

Edit: They should rename Handelspub "Toxic Ex-Boyfriend" because I went back last night to meet some people who were already inside, only to stand in line by myself for a while before turning back, both rejected and dejected. I THOUGHT YOU HAD CHANGED. A million times bitten, apparently still not shy.

Yeezy Taught Me

I was walking out of the gym today (I've become a bit of a gym rat, more about that later), and the cover of the latest issue of Nöjesguiden, a sort of New York Magazine for Sweden, caught my eye. First reaction: Sweden loves Kanye? That will be an interesting article. Second reaction: That will make one banging poster for my apartment.

I must say, it looks pretty slammin' on the bright blue wall, and I'm going to love having breakfast with Kanye every morning. Actually, now that I think about it, if I could have breakfast/dinner/drinks with one living person, it would be Kanye. How fun would that be? He would be such hoot and TALK IN ALL CAPS and I bet he'd let me drink all the mimosas and eat all the pancakes I want and still pick up the tab. YO YO GIRL, THIS BRUNCH IS ON ME I GIVE YOU THE CHIVALRY THAT MAKE YOU ALL SHIVERY. I EFFIN LOVE BRUNCH. I AM THE BRUNCH MASTER!!!!! That was a poor Kanye impression (the Fug Girls do it better) but you get the idea, he'd be a blast to hang out with. All of this has very little to do with Sweden, so I'll make my point. Learning Swedish the traditional way, in classes, hasn't worked out as expected; after passing A1, I was told that I couldn't take A2 because, um, I don't know? I didn't feel like arguing with Swedish academic bureaucracy way more than I wanted to enroll in the class. I tried to sign up for the Swedish For Immigrants course offered by the city of Gothenburg, but political refugees are given priority, moving me down so far on the list that I would be back in DC before being enrolled, #whitegirlproblems.

So, I've tried to find alternative methods to learning at least a decent amount of Swedish. Like the Kanye article, I've made more of an effort to at least attempt to read local newspapers, like Metro, which is given out for free on the trams each morning. Similarly, in what could be the Greatest Thrift Store Find ever, I spotted (puns abound!) a copy of Gossip Girl IN SWEDISH, which I'm totally excited to read. Ni vet att ni älskar mig. XOXO.

I'm not entirely sure how this is possible, but I have even more free time this semester than the previous. I have only five hours of class a week, and honestly could not find work to do if my life depended upon it. This probably sounds like a dream, and it kind of is, but it can also get excruciatingly boring, especially when other people have class and you are left to your own devices. This usually involves a lot of blog-browsing and afternoon napping. I've picked up a few extracurricular activities to keep myself from turning into a puddle of worthlessness and lack of purpose, both of which have been surprisingly helpful for Swedish. I've begun work as a sort of T.A. at an adult English class, and it's been great so far. We're often paired up with students, and I've become chummy with Viktor, a really nice Russian man who moved here 10 years ago to become a neurologist. I kind of feel like a total asshat, teaching someone who is both older and more intelligent than me how to add s's on the ends of words to make them plural, but the learning experience has gone both ways. His English is limited, so he'll often try to express a thought or word in Swedish, which gives me a chance to practice a new language as well. It's always a sort of Who's on First? experience when we're both trying to fish for words in our non-native tongues.

I've also started hitting the gym almost every day now. It's a great way to kill the time, plus I've found it to be an amazing stress killer. I mostly attend classes- yoga, Pilates, Zumba- and it totally didn't occur to me that the fitness instructor would speak in Swedish. Listening to them repeat the same key phrases throughout a class has definitely helped me to remember words and improve my pronunciation. Ninety-nine percent of the adult Swedish population (statistic completely fabricated) is fluent in English, though, so every once in a while the instructor will throw in a phrase that sounds like it came from a package of Yogi Tea. My favorite so far? "It's not about weathering the storm, it's about learning to dance in the rain." I figure even if I end this semester not knowing much more Swedish than I do now, at least my butt is going to be TONED.

Sporty Spice

It probably goes without saying, but I will not be watching the Super Bowl this year. Why, you ask?

1. I am in Sweden.
     a. No one else cares about American football, and it's not like I care enough to watch the game myself.
     b. The Super Bowl will start when I'm going to bed; my Scandinavian Studies course is way more important than football*.

2. I really could not care less about sports, and am only in it for the party foods and friend time.

3. Despite trying to combat harmful stereotypes, I'm always that person at the Super Bowl party who's like "Ooooh, did they just make a goal? Why did they get two points? Did they just come really close to getting a field goal?"

4. I feel that athletes are given an unbelievable amount of privilege for their ability to, I don't know, run quickly and catch well? Between the Packers and the Steelers, this year's Super Bowl lineup has eight alleged rapists and those accused of sexual assault. Rah rah rah? Sorry, I just can't make myself get excited about the glorification of athletes. I won't rant about it too much here, but shoot me a line if you want to get into it.

Anyways, Jezebel had a great article about alternative activities for this fine Sunday evening. I've already indulged in quite a few:

1. Go to the gym and fiddle around with the weight machines.
All of the really beefy brodudes who usually grunt and groan all over the side of the gym not dotted with ellipticals are watching the game tonight. If you're intimidated by the typical sexual divide and don't want to embarrass yourself in front of the testosterone-engorged triceps that normally camp by the free weights, head to the gym and lord over the weight room. Familiarize yourself with what machines you like, which weight levels are comfortable, and so next time, you can strut around like you own the place. Judgey looks be damned!

BLAMMO. Totally woke up this morning and pumped some iron. And by "pumped some iron" I mean "went to Zumba class" but whatever, I had to pass the weights on my way in, and it was completely deserted.


4. Sit quietly in your apartment and try to guess which team your neighbor's Super Bowl party is supporting.

Sounds like Team España, but could definitely be the Italianos as well.


5. Watch the Puppy Bowl.
Duh.


What she said. Duh.


7. Cook something crazy.
You have all evening to whip up something you've never whipped up before, and if you make a mistake, blame Aaron Rodgers.

Okay, I didn't cook it myself, but Yuri, Natsuko, and I went to this Indian restaurant in Järntorget and it was fabulously delicious and we've definitely something we've "never whipped up before" so close enough. 


8. Turn your TV and computer off and read a book.
You have a whole shelf full of books that you haven't read. Don't lie! I know you do. I see all. Pick up one of those books that you never got around to reading and read. At the very least, you'll emerge from Super Bowl Sunday with a detached air of disdainful intellectual superiority.

Infinite Jest, I WILL COMPLETE YOU.

EVEN IF YOU ARE THE SIZE OF A BABY, AND, BY TRANSITIVE PROPERTY, A CHIPOTLE BURRITO. 


10. Organize your closet.
There is a pile of clothes on your bedroom floor that you've been saying you'd clean up for months. Won't you feel better once it's not there anymore?

Today, I had to make the really tough call of whether my sweater dress should hang next to my sweaters or my dresses. And then I took a nap. Being abroad is hard. Wahhhhhhh.

*Although, when I wake up there will be a new episode of Glee to watch! Gleeking out!

I Hate Group Projects

I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects I hate group projects