The view from Shanghai

A game of mahjong on one of the back streets.

In traveling to Shanghai, I was not sure what to expect and wondered whether this super-size city of 17 million would be too big to navigate and enjoy. But what I found was an exciting and dynamic city that was full of life and energy at all hours of the day and I absolutely loved it.

I loved the contrasts: glittering skyscrapers, elevated neon-let highways and luxury boutiques sit next to lanes with no indoor running water and street markets selling everything from kiminos and pearls to Chairman Mao bags and terracotta soldiers. Horn honking taxis and cars do battle for space on the roads with mopeds and bicycle carts laden with fruit. In the back streets, life is lived on the sidewalks. Hair cuts, dog baths, dish washing, cooking, teeth brushing and playing mahjong and checkers – everyday life rituals as well as entertainment is played out for all to see.

In a carryover from the past when only the wealthy could afford pajamas and thus wore them as status symbols, both men and women wear their fuzzy polar and silk pjs on the street during the daytime. That means that by Chinese standards, when my cousin and I would go to the drive-through late at night in our pjs we were actually being fashionable and making a statement about our wealthy flannels.

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Systembolaget woes

Robert and I are having a Halloween party tonight. So this morning we got up early to get things organized, go to the grocery and go to Systembolaget to get wine and beer. As we are walking toward the stores, Robert comments on how quiet it is out. And then we come to our first stop: Systembolaget. And it is closed. Big problem. Especially since we are having a party and there is no where else we can buy this stuff.

Given that neither of us is Swedish, we did not think about Systembolaget being closed today for alla helgons dag or halloween. (It is not a holiday in the US or Australia.) Since the state controls the purchase of alcohol, the only place you can buy wine and liqour is at Systembolaget. You can buy low alcohol beer at the grocery, but none of the good, higher stuff.

After we got home, we got calls and text messages from friends that were bringing drinks to the party and they had the same problem as us. So it is kind of funny in a pathetic kind of way tha we all goofed up. Thank goodness we have some alcohol in our liquor cabinet. Just let me know when you are ready for your Halloween cocktail . . .

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Customer service in Sweden

I was waiting in a long line at Pressbryan recently (a convenience store like 7/11) and contemplating the customer service concept in Sweden. Or should I say, I was contemplating the lack of customer service. Even though the line was out the door, only one of the staff members waited on customers while the other continued to slowly stock the shelves. When the person in front of me finally reached the cash register, she then pulled her backpack off her back and proceeded to look for her wallet.

Of course, she did not do this while she was waiting in the long line and of course it took her a long time to find her wallet. She basically emptied her pack before she found it.

And of course the clerk did not ask to serve the next person in line so as to move things along more quickly. Once the women finally found her wallet, she then proceeded to chat with the clerk for a few minutes, completely oblivious to the glares she was getting. I would have laughed if I was not so annoyed.

At my old office, there was a cafe where you could buy snacks and coffee. Inevitably, the line was long but only one clerk  would wait on one person at a time. Instead of starting a latte and then waiting on the next person while it brews, the clerk stands and waits with the coffee. I always wanted to go back behind the counter and show them how to multitask. But that would not be very Swedish of me.

Long lines always seem to bring out the American in me.

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Lining up in Stockholm

I was at the Chinese embassy this morning to get a visa for an upcoming trip. There was a long line as I walked in and automatically I walked up to the machine to take a number. It did not work. Even though people were standing right there by the number machine, no one told me that the machine was not working. As more people came in after me, each person would try the machine and then promptly get in line. Only once did someone tell a person that the machine was not working.

Somehow, this scenario is so very Swedish to me. Without fail, Swedes know that you have to take a number to be served, whether you are at the pharmacy, the food market or the tax authority. And almost without fail, no Swede is going to let you know that something is not working. They will let you figure that out for yourself.

If this was going on in the US, you can bet that everyone would be talking about that machine and how long the lines were. Here in Stockholm, I did not hear anyone complain.

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Dalí at Stockholm’s Moderna

Yesterday we went to see the Salvador Dalí exhibit at the Moderna Museum here in Stockholm. It is my favorite museum in town, not only for the great views from the cafe, but also for the art. The Moderna always seems to be able to push the envelope in regard to putting on comprehensive and exciting shows, much like they did with the Warhol exhibit last year.

This show did a fantastic job of showing how Dalí was truly a master at exploring all sorts of mediums beyond his paint brush and drawing pencil. He appeared as a performance artist on TV, created posters for the French trains, magazine covers for Vogue and countless ads for all sorts of things, including stockings and Alka Seltzer. He worked with Walt Disney and Alfred Hitchcock.

There is no doubt that Dalí was quite a media savvy dandy, but he could also draw. His finely detailed figure drawings for the Comte de Maldovor’s poetic book  were stunning. And I love the description of surrealism that the Comte himself coined: “The chance meeting on a dissecting table of a sewing machine and an umbrella.”

Dalí was a pop artist long before Warhol hit the scene and brilliantly created a public vision of himself. And in an interesting twist, the Moderna paired Dalí’s work with contemporary celebrity artist Francesco Vezzoli. The exhibit did a good job of comparing the artists’ works and showing how Dalí used certain objects, including spoons, fried eggs and crutches over and over.

The show is on until January 17th. Check it out if you have the chance: see the Moderna.

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More language laughs

As I have done a number of posts about learning the Swedish language, my friend Roger sent me this great video about an Italian man in Malta who is having trouble being understood. Enjoy the laugh. See do you speak English?

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Simple Swedish lessons

Just as I finished posting on classic Swedish miscommunications, I got this great video from a friend. It brilliantly explains just what we all have to go through when learning the Swedish language.

Check out learning Swedish here!

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Things I don’t understand about Sweden

No matter where you live, there is always a long list of things that bothers you about your town. (Do not get me started on the things that I hate about my hometown of Cincinnati. But that is for another day.)  Today I need to do one of my “things I hate about Sweden” posts.

Not long after I moved here, I was taking a bike ride. Up on the path ahead of me about 150 meters away, I saw an old man trip and fall down. Directly next to him, less than 5 meters away, were two construction workers talking. While the now bleeding old man struggled to get up, the other men went on talking and completely ignored the old man. I came riding up on my bike, threw it down and proceeded to go to the old man to help him. He desperately wanted to get up, but he was too big for me to help. Instead I checked out his head wound and give him some tissue to stop the flow. But he just wanted to get back up. Frustrated, I asked the two men to help me with the man. Nonchalantly, they helped the man up. I then asked them to help him over to a bench, which they did. Eventually, I left after making sure the man seemed OK on his own.

On my way home, I cried. I did not feel I could live in a place where an injured old man would be ignored.

Later that evening, I told some Swedish friends about the incident and expressed my anger and frustration about the lack of help. I felt strongly that the man would have been helped in the US. Ola explained that the younger men probably felt embarrassed for the old man and did not want to invade his privacy. I accepted his explanation, though I did not understand it.

Some years down the road, I do understand the Swede’s reluctance to get involved in others’ affairs a bit more. But I still don’t get it. To me, it is simple. If someone needs help, you give it. It is just one of the many ways that I know that I am hardwired to be an American.

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Watching the NHL in Stockholm

The St. Louis Blues. All photos by Robert Corkery.

Last night, Robert and I went to a National Hockey League game here in Stockholm. Although I have only been to two hockey games in my life, it somehow felt like I was back in the US – especially after the National Anthem was played. With my flag displayed next to Sweden’s flag, I felt rather inexplicably patriotic.

The Red Wings dominated possession in the first period.

The St. Louis Blues played the Detroit Red Wings to a sold-out crowd of more than 13,800 hockey fans who heavily favored the Red Wings – no doubt due to eight Swedes playing for Red versus only two for the Blues. Robert and I had fantastic seats just behind the Blues thanks to our friend Jaakko, so we were in the midst of all their cheering fans. There were a lot of Americans with sports travel groups at the game and thus lots of team chants in English, so I really did feel like I had been transported to a US sporting event. But it was one with Crown Princess Victoria in the crowd.

Tkachuk watching the action. He has scored over 1,000 NHL points.

A Blues fan celebrates yet another goal.

Incidentally, the Blues won 4-3.

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Embracing life as an expat

Living as an American in Sweden, I meet a lot of other internationals. I find there are expats who are miserable in their lives, loathing everything from the food and the people to the landscape and the weather. They seem determined to enjoy nothing. And then there are those who throw themselves full-on into their new life, sampling the food, learning the traditions and the language and in the process, enjoying it all. Long ago, I found that I did not want to be around the miserable ones who found fault with everything. I sympathized with them, but I just could not afford to be brought down by their misery.

Now I am no saint in my international life. I am not above making regular rants about the darkness here in winter or complaining about the high cost of living. There are things I would like to change. That said, I do love my life overall and try to embrace what is unique about life in Scandinavia, as well as what is unique to me as an American. I feel lucky.

Which brings me to a book I just finished reading: Julia Child’s My Life in France. (This American chef is immensely popular just now thanks to the Meryl Streep movie Julie & Julia.) The book is a mouth-watering read in terms of its descriptions of French cuisine. But as an expat, what I particularly enjoyed about Julia was her complete immersion in France and her absolute love of life there, even with all its quirks. She had an inspiring recipe for living abroad that is well worth emulating, no matter where you may find yourself.

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