Stockholm by Bicycle!

One of my three packages journeying across the world with me was Corinne's Bianchi, packed with love by Corinne's mom Chris, her brother Paul and I nearly a month before we (the bike and I)  left.  Shipping being prohibitively expensive, I brought it as an oversize bag - 200$ (but for the last minute removal of Chacos, vitamins and those damn travel books, I would have had two).  The other day, she and I assembled that Bianchi, brought it to a shop to get checked out (all safe!), and started riding around.  The next day Corinne biked off to school on the Bianchi for the first time, and I rode the City Bike, Sweden's version of Mpls' Nice Ride, around town for a little tour.

The assembled Bianchi!

The 'City Bike' - the Swedish Nice Ride

The Stockholm roads have bike lanes built into most of them, as I have mentioned - and it is sometimes double curbed.  Here are a few pictures of the lanes.

Bike lane - Corinne signalling right (correctly for Sweden - signals made for bikes!)

Where the 'bike' image is, the curb is cut out for the bike lane (those barriors will be featured later)

Notice the bike lane to her left (she is not on it)

Double curb!  Featuring my City Bike on the right

Car-stop line with bike lane, bike zone in front of the cars!

Scooters can ride on the bike lanes.  This is insane.  

It had been a while since I had been on a bike and both Corinne and I had sore legs at the end of the day, but before that - I saw some more of Stockholm!  Here are the parks in Djurgarden.  Enjoy!

One chimney, three styles

Lots of Stockholm looks and feels like northern MN

Pretty!

Lots of scary, foreboding statues of stern looking Swedes.  Gustav III here.

Northern MN!

City Bike station.  Can't you see it?  It's right there!

Yeah, me neither.  On my map it was 200 yards (meters) to the left of here - several blocks.  I had given up and was heading home when I saw this.  Yay!  Finding it allowed me to pay a visit to the National Library, which was pretty neat.

And after it all  it was time for something rich and delicious - assuage that thirst.  Corinne and I met and enjoyed two tall (and overpriced) beers here.  AND I learned some calculus!

Can anyone find the mistake?  Kerry?

Being Away From Home: II

The past few days have given me my first pangs of sadness/missing Seward: consequences of being away from home.  I'll start by saying that Corinne continues to be a wonderful host - showing me the city and her new friends in it.  She and I have enjoyed walks, dinners, visits to her school, and a few comfortable evenings at home with Firefly.  I've also felt at home with her friends Nelson, Kyle, Alicia, Hanna (who is Swedish!), and have been in touch with a few folks from home, who continue to be a click away, even at thousands of miles.  But, especially considering the family gathering to commemorate my grandmother, a little homesickness is bound to happen.  Here are a few examples of me being hosted extremely well:

Typical party scene - at the boat

Corinne and I both have been very well hosted - from left Hanna, Kyle, Nelson, Corinne

Anti-homesickness medicine

The walks themselves have allowed me a pedestrian view of the city - both in and outside of the city's heartbeat.  The other day I attempted to visit the US Embassy, hoping to see the inside, Jason Bourne style, as well as use the Toalet.  No such luck - even after pulling on the locked door like a trained monkey, or when I flashed my passport to the guy behind the glass.  I had it in my head that I could run through the gate, waving my passport, to escape whatever interpol / mafia / international spies were chasing me.  Not so.  This was a secured location - against me and everyone like me.  I spoke with an officer through thick glass and was recommended to a few websites and sent on my way.  Oh well.

This was like embassy row - Japan was just beyond the US here

Just in case the concrete barriers don't foil evil doers

While many shops have their doors propped open even when the temp dips to 35 degrees, I have yet to crack the surface of the city.  However I've noticed that after a few days in a new place - it feels dramatically more comfortable, and could easily BECOME home, given the opportunity.  I think what catches me and leaves me on the outside of the window emotionally is the feeling that I will be leaving here shortly (even if it a relatively long time - 3 weeks!), and fail to connect with people the way I might in Seward where I am comfortable around strangers with no sense of ever seeing them again.  I continue to see the city as an outsider, even though I am picking up Swedish phrases and could direct someone to train stops all over town.  The comfort of the neighborhood, as Nick Carraway called it, certainly feels like a choice, if one I've not yet made.

View in Ostermalm

Ostermalm

View west into Ostermalm, with Kyle's boat-house Taavi in the foreground

View south west into Gamla Stan

Incoming train from Sodermalm to Gamla Stan

Being Away From Home: I

My maternal grandmother, after a decade of struggling with Parkinson's, died yesterday afternoon.  It was her time, certainly; she had been bed ridden and mostly unable to communicate for several years.  I've had my goodbyes with her, but it is a struggle to be so far from home during this time.  

It brings up in me thoughts about my family - who they have been and are, and how I fit into that structure.  I've talked several times (and often at length) about being Irish - culturally Irish - and in times like this I am pushed to think about what this really means.  I've assigned family quirks or silences or temperaments to an ethnicity that from which I am three generations removed.  These familial traits run from my grandmother, and her mother who immigrated from Ireland at 16.  Both women were severe mothers, and as I entered adulthood I heard a number of non-grandmotherly stories about each of them.  While I have these stories with me to turn over and play through while I walk through this unfamiliar culture and city, I cannot share them or hear more from the rest of my family who will congregate around her one last time to share warmth and laughter and certainly a few ridiculous 'Mean Marie' moments.  

Marie Fourre was my last grandparent alive - both grandfathers died in the 80s and my Dad's mother died on Mother's day 2009.  When I said my final goodbye to her on a trip to Youngstown Ohio, I met and had my last goodbye with her last living sibling, my great uncle David - though I didn't know it would be the last time he and I spoke.  He would walk over to me, roll his eyes at the whole scene, and talk to me about disliking wakes, how he hadn't wanted to be the last of his siblings to die, and lighter conversation about his days in the priesthood and living on Lake Erie.  It was wonderful to connect with him, only possible for us in the circumstance of my grandmother's, his sister's, wake and funeral.  

These next few days, my grandma's remaining siblings will be in my mind: Martin, Pat and Peter, along with her 7 children, 19 grandchildren and 4 great-grandchildren.  It will be tough to be away from them these next few days.  I'm not sure how many of my aunt, uncles and cousins will be in town for the funeral and wake, but I will be among them in spirit.  

Mean Marie with (clock-wise from top left) PJ, Andy, Danni, Luke, Joe, Kate, Dan, Tony and me

Planning the Next Stage

Oct 20, Wednesday afternoon

I started travel planning in earnest yesterday, having dabbled online a few times.  I spent a few solid hours working through hostel websites, blog accounts, and the .se version of half a dozen travel sites (Expedia and Vayama give you a .com option - Kayak does not).  Corinne and I tapped keyboards and read away at a fantastic cafe (Cafe String, where I am now), she studying for her midterm exam and I planning Phase Two: North Africa.  

My plan has always been to begin the voyage in Morocco and go east, though the Swedish Phase One was added in June, having met and fallen hopelessly for the woman pictured above as any reasonable person would.  It took some doing to find a reasonable schedule from Casablanca (nothing more than an airport as far as I should be concerned) to various cities in the interior and back again for a flight to Tunis.  I'm glad I took the time, adding two days in the city of Ouarzazate to the itinerary.  While I considered these cities (Rabat or not Rabat?), the ticket price went up, OF COURSE, and I paid 1450 rather than 1080.  That's Swedish Crowns, and balances out to 200 rather than 155 or so.   Luckily, almost directly after the purchase is made, the price ceases to matter completely - which is nice.I'm starting to do those exchanges in my head, though looking at North Africa opened a whole new list of currencies and exchange rates.

At any rate, I have some cities laid out, along with places to stay: Casablanca, Fes, Meknes, Rabat, Marrakech, and finally Ouarzazate before heading back to Casablanca for the flight out to Tunis on the 18th.  Many of these hostels are part of Hosteling International (which is why the sites are so similar) and they all have phone numbers just in case - Mom.  All are located close to town centers and seem to have a similar organization, which I hope will be helpful when my French and Arabic give out, which will be immediately.  The plan from Tunis gets a bit less solid, but I am exploring the possibility of traveling through Tripoli or heading straight into mummy territory.  The middle east will be next and as my options broaden, my direction becomes more and more malleable.  I plan to meet Corinne in Istanbul around December 21st.  I'm thinking about Israel, Syria, Lebanon, Cyprus, or an early excursion into Turkey.  Any suggestions?

Salinger Moment

I experienced my very first Salinger moment on this trip.  To explain, Nine Stories has accompanied me to destinations far and wide - Mexico, El Salvador, UK, numerous US destinations; it is my go-to travel book.  It is with me now.  The title of this blog is from one of those stories (anyone know? hint - it has the longest title).

So anyhoo I'm wandering Sodermalm and stumble across this - the inside was much less impressive having likely been Lutherized, but it was warm - and full of the melodic voices of children!  (Sorry Maggie.)  They looked to be middle schoolers - 5-9 grade or so for us - and they were stunning!  While I did not run into any of them at a nearby tea shop afterwards, it was a lovely moment.

Stockholm, capital of Scandinavia!

Stockholm has opened its cool ergonomic arms to me these past two days.  With my able guide and special lady friend by my side, I am starting to feel oriented to the capitol of Scandinavia.  A few facts on Stockholm, courtesy of my extensive experience (thank you Colbert).  Stockholm is high on most 'best city lists,' known for its parks, architecture, and water.  There is a lot of water which you can see on a map, or nearly any image of the city.  Corinne lives in the Sodermalm neighborhood/area/place.  We've spent most of our time in Sodermalm, Norrmalm, Ostermalm, and passing through Gamla Stan.  Corinne's school, the Royal Institute or KTH, is north of Ostermalm - you can see it on the map.  Sodermalm is a somewhat trendy area - lots of shops and cafes, not a lot of office or government buildings.  The city isn't all that big, and densely populated - 2 million in surrounding areas (209 square km or about 80 square miles - Mpls proper is 56 square miles).  Phew - enough numbers.  But there are a lot of people, nearly everyone in the ubiquitous five story apt buildings around town.  These buildings are shops first and sometimes second stories, and residences above that.  The buildings often face walkways off the main street, so they have building addresses off of a street, rather than a street address alone.

Everyone looks Swedish - well, not everyone, but most everyone.  It is a cinematic, Ingrid Bergman meets Bjork, sculpted kind of look, and while being white with blue eyes affords me Swedish greetings by shop attendants, there is a Swedish style and I'm not in it (that I know of).  Tight pants and a light, clear eyed directness with the world.  A lot of people smoke, or use snuice (tobacco in a little sack that I think is floating around the US), but the city is largely very clean - timely trains and buses, organized shops, and there isn't, that I have heard about, a 'bad side of town.'  Nearly everyone is fluent in English, but Swedish remains an impenetrable mess to me, and the few Swedish English cognates are not enough to feel competent navigating grocery stores or advertisements.

Stockholm streets are extremely bike and pedestrian friendly - nearly every street has dedicated bike lanes and even little bike traffic lights!  Many streets in the city center are full of spill over traffic from sidewalks and are rarely used by cars.  It feels very safe to walk around in the city, dramatically different from every other metropolis I've visited.  Streets are clearly marked with incomprehensible Swedish street names.  Here are a few Stockholm images from our walks around town.

bike lane, lots of pedestrians

Cars are very diligent about stopping for peds

cobblestone!

a city center area with a snowboarding event

Notice in the final image that the snowboarders would start at the top, ride the handrails down to a short snowy bottom - sans helmets - over stairs without any snow on them.  This was hard to watch, waiting as the old person I have become for someone to get hurt.

SO!  Yesterday was a big one for Corinne and I - she having her first choir concert with the choir she very bravely joined a few weeks ago, and me enjoying that concert and later spending time with her new friends on a boat in the Stockholm harbor!

Awwwwwww  :)

The concert was in a basement, and a full one!  They had to turn folks away!

Afternoon view from the boat

Nelson and Kyle, who lives in the cabin in the background

The concert was lovely - they served brunch-y food (which they called 'brunch') and sang songs from films (including uplifting English songs like Suicide is Painless, and It's A Wonderful World).  After the concert, we walked to the place Kyle is staying, a boat, and enjoyed drinks and conversation as the sun went down extremely slowly (60 degrees north).  Bam.  So that was fun.

Radiolab said sleeping in a new place is not a good nights sleep, as the body is in a state of alertness (for sabre tooth tigers and the like), and only after a night or two does a person sleep well.  I've had my two nights here, and am starting to fear the tigers less.  Ta ta for now!

Sverige!

I must admit that my much-touted packing style of 'last-minute' can no longer be classified as 'successful.'  I did manage to get out the door in time for a comfortable trip through security, but only after three baggage changes and a backpack reconnaissance mission to the folk's house the morning of the trip.  Ultimately, Mom came through with a duffel of Dad's that actually fit another bag INSIDE of it.  Bam!

The three bags I almost packed, before packing the purple bag in a different, bigger duffel

My lovely parents sending me off!  Look at how not nervous my mother is!

So my journey truly began with my mother dropping me off at the airport, us unloading two large bags and a bike box, and my saying that moving that stuff from the car to the check-in counter will be the hardest part of my trip.  I immediately recognized my mistake, but was entirely powerless against the forces of - what - the wood nymphs?  What is it that catches us in our weakest moments of overconfidence?  Whatever it is, it got me.  First, after flawlessly maneuvering my luggage into the airport and up the counter, I discovered that Sweden requires an exit strategy from their country.  The gentleman shared a phrase I will surely come to dread - 'Sir, could you step over here please?'  After some discussion, he allowed that I could likely enter the country, but would be well advised to have an exit flight or work on getting a visa.  I should add that around this time I put the bicycle box on the scale, followed by the GIANT duffel bag, to find that the duffel came in super-heavy-weight (which qualifies for a bonus payment of 200$).  I became, for a moment, that person with their personal life spread out over the floor of the airport, negotiating over three travel books, Chacos, and two giant bottle of vitamins (Calcium and Vitamin C) - the sum of which made the crucial 6lb difference.  I continued through security without incident. 

A few gate-side phone calls to my travel guru Joshua Paul Courteau and I was set up with a ticket to Morocco for the low low price of 580 dollars.  To be honest I have no idea where that falls on the scale of tickets from Stockholm to Casablanca - maybe that's bargain basement - when you are buying through a friend who is online on your behalf and you need a ticket to get into the country you are leaving for in an hour - you roll.

It was clear sailing through to Stockholm at that point - easing my way out of the US from the United terminal to the the international terminal at O'Hare, and finally being picked up by the lovely Corinne Wichser at ARN in Sweden (who wanted me to mention that she made me a bitchin sandwich - which is true, it was bitchin). Swedish Immigration, the stalwart defense against itinerant bums like myself, grilled me with the long line of questioning foretold by the United attendant (surprisingly similar our role-play Josh):

Swedish Officer: Have you been here before?
Me: No.
SO: What are your plans in Sweden?
Me: Visit a friend?
SO: How long do you plan to stay?
Me: 3 weeks.

And scene.  Unless they knew that I had bought a ticket 12 hours earlier - there was never any problem. 

I did not sleep on the flight over, which makes it 1PM Kevin brain time, 36 hours without sleep, to which I am attributing the wandering nature of this post.  The day has been a lovely wander around Stockholm with Corinne, checking out the old city between her apartment and KTH where she is at school.  The first steps!

Album cover, also representative of leaving Mpls

Corinne time!  <3 <3 <3 !!!

Corinne being Stockholm, featuring Stockholm

Time for sleep!  ttfn!

(PS, if anyone is savvy about these posts going automatically to Facebook, or other ways for the not so savvy to keep in touch, please let me know!)

Commencing Countdown Engine's On

An idea hatched with Josh at Ngon in February of this year is about to become a reality.  I've taken a leave-of-absence from Cretin-Derham Hall for the 2010-2011 school year and will use that time to explore the broader world; hopefully finding the outer reaches in the same style and episodic quality as Fire Fly.  Or Star Trek.

The MN weather has been astounding - 70 degree days, the maples hysterically heralding autumn - I've barely finished painting my house and I'm almost done with Target and Midwest Mountaineering.  This week has a madcap adventure trying to shop, pack, and see everyone before shipping out - it has certainly helped that the weather is perfect and my friends and family are all amazing.

Ellie, Anna and the food!

To that end my brother PJ hosted a small dinner party last night to help send me off in style - and what style!  After attending a number of gathering this weekend (Justin and Betsy's send off, Michelle's water park birthday party, old friends in from out of town expectedly and unexpectedly, and numerous coffees, walks and lunchtime meetings), I thought maybe I had experienced the gamut of goodbyes - but no!  The dinner, while it could not be attended by all good friends (both for space and schedules), was a powerful reminder of what I am leaving behind, and what I will return to.

PJ and Lora

Michelle, Josh and Ben

Tony and Josh

With lots of help from Lora and Jonathan (and Eggers), PJ put on an amazing spread of food (zucchini bread, pot roast, roasted veggies, squash, an enormous pot of chili, and a rotisserie chicken (why not?).  Folks brought drinks and more food and we were off - a feast!

Ellie, Ben, Tony, PJ, Kevin

Nick, Avye, PJ and Laura

I was moved, humbled by watching these incredible people from my life interact with each other - for a little while I was a small hub of a great wheel. The room felt amazing - it reminded me of the parties Tony and I used to host at the river house, knowing how great everyone was and being excited about every introduction. I felt so grateful to have such an awesome group of people around me. Forgive the cliche, but it felt like the final scenes of a movie - various parts of my life coalesced by the company of amazing people - sharing memories, telling stories. It afforded me the opportunity to be at ease in the chaos of preparing to leave the country, to relax with everyone orbiting the life I've been living, the life I hope to return to. Traveling will be for me an affirmation of this group, everyone there and not there. You folks, readers, will be behind me when I face something new and scary, when I am tired and confused and frustrated; you will be behind the faces of the strange new friends I will make, the familiar in impossibly unfamiliar places. This makes my journey possible.
And, of course, the woman who could not be there, but who will make my 'here' a more fulfilling place for the next 8 months, who will help create the self I'll bring back, parts of me I'll be proud to share through photos and stories.  Many of you know I am starting my trip in Sweden to visit Corinne, who was behind many of my smiles when I talked about being nervous or excited about leaving.  Corinne, train tracks of my heart (who can be found here), will make Sweden my home base across the puddle.  And will be the subject of many rambly and poorly constructed sentences here.

Thank you again, everyone.  I feel ready to roll - a turtle on skates.