I arrived in Stockholm around 20h00 local time on Tuesday 23 January 2006. Although I was a bit queasy on the last leg of the flight, I didn't develop my full-on symptoms (minor virus) until later that night. Between first setting foot on Swedish soil (or carpet, as the case may be) and crashing in a mildly delirious swoon later that night, I managed to grant Stockholm three prestigious awards.
#1 - Least Affected Greeting.
Overseas Digest observes that
in Sweden, greetings are brief and involve a minimum of physical contact. A firm and quick handshake accompanied by direct eye contact are used both as a greeting and a farewell.All well and good, but did you know that the Swedish word for "Hello" is "Hej" (pronounced, "Hey")? That's right. Instead of "Good morning," it's "Hej." Even the Italian "Ciao" requires more labial effort and precision than "Hej." You just kind of open your mouth, contract your throat the tiniest bit, and wheeze. Talk about unaffected. I was unprepared, even as a North American.
When I stepped up to the Immigration desk at the airport, the attractive Swedish woman, looking me briefly in the eye, says, "Hej." I had just spent some 14 hours in the care of British Airways, so I said, "Good evening." It was probably the right thing to say, however, since she was being formal. I just didn't know it at the time. At least in this country all my home-grown, knee-jerk American informality will come in handy. Say they: "Hej." Says me: "Hey." And everyone's happy.
#2 - Most Apt Method for Dispensing Soap. The bathrooms at ARN are equipped with soap dispensers which function quite unlike any others I've ever encountered. Attempting to soap my hands, I tried all the "usual" techniques: pull lever forward, push lever back, press nozzle up into dispenser, etc. etc. Nothing was working. The nozzle--which is made of plasticized rubber--has a small, curved, hard plastic disc on its front--a thumb-rest, as it turns out. Although it took some minutes, I finally puzzled out how to operate the thing: you place your thumb on the disc, and then milk the rubber nozzle behind it. Soap dispenser as teat.
Got soap?
As to aptness, perhaps you remember that scene in Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal when the knight is drinking a bowl of milk, and he just goes on and on about milk?
No? Then perhaps you remember this, admittedly iconic, scene best?
Well, if you ever want to be reminded about the profound connection between milk and death--and soap--in Swedish culture, just head on over to your nearest Swedish airport for immediate satisfaction.
#3 - Quietest Metro Ride. It would make sense if I were only talk about the trains themselves being quiet. You know, Swedish design and all that. And the trains are impressively quiet.
We used time-lapse photography to make things look louder.
But I'm talking mostly about the people. On our brief metro-ride from the city center, where the airport shuttle dropped us off, to our Swedish home, I observed two men board the train, talking loudly and animatedly on their cell-phones. Within 30 seconds, one had finished his call and the other was speaking in a church whisper--I doubt his interlocutor could hear him. The train was perhaps 1/4 to 1/3 full, and I heard no other conversation. None. Nada. No voices at all.
I've heard tell of the famous "Scandinavian reserve," but I didn't expect it to feel like the eerie quiet before some kind of natural disaster. I kept waiting to see all the Swedes get up and run for the high ground in advance of the tsunami or something.
2 comments:
Your writing amuses.
Really - the trains are that quiet? That would be unsettling, have you gotten used to it yet or is it still disturbing? Do you find yourselves being more reserved in while on the train????
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