No more teachers, no more books...

Now that I am officially done with coursework, I have now stepped from the mildly respectable position of student, to the slightly shunned position of unemployed. Don't worry too much about me, though, I'll be putting lots of thoughtful consideration into other things...

After much careful deliberation...


I emerge... Victorious!

Holy crosswalk

It's been awhile, but rest assured, J and I are still alive and kicking, despite the blatant discrimination against us at our local crosswalk. Clearly, the Swedes get pretty specific about which individuals are more righted-of-way than the others.

Monks crossing? Hmm...

Bikes by Stockholm, bike racks by Clear Channel

The city of Stockholm (rather unsurprisingly) maintains a fleet of bicycles, which are deployed during the warmer months for use by residents and visitors alike. In what seems to curious brand mismatch, the city has farmed out the operation of Stockholm City Bikes to... Clear Channel.

Wait. Did he just say "Clear Channel?" As in that media "company of conservative values" which has "expressed [those values] in very vocal ways, many times to the detriment of its public image?" Yup. That's the one. Stockholm's municipal bicycle service--which sounds downright socialist when you put it that way--is operated by a US-based "conservative values" corporation. Go figure.

None of this figures much in H's calculus for what's worth researching in Stockholm. She's already got the per-ride cost figured and her application filled out. Spring really is in the air.

Giddyup thar!

Healthy and Sweaty

The one request that J and I have received for content was from my Mom (thanks, Mom!), who requested more postings on our everyday life. It's not exactly everyday, but we do try to go to the gym on a regular basis. There's really very little excuse since it's just around the corner and between our apartment and school.

H's feeling friskis (healthy) and svettis (sweaty) after her workout!

I particularly like their advertising, which tells you a bit about how they see themselves, and about how I see myself.

Not that I go around grabbing guys' boobs...

J has made working out tougher these days by making friends at the gym. He's recently befriended a confessed workout sadist whom I will undoubtedly be cursing tomorrow morning!

You've got questions

We've got answers. Wat pho? Pho evvy-ting!

Existential angst is no match for our trained masseurs!

How not to order your steak

It's all too easy to let your imagination run away with you when confronted with a language all-too-closely-related to English. At first glance, it would appear that Jensen's House of Bof, brazenly advertising its wares in shameless red neon, has located itself in the wrong district.

When asked how you would like your bof, a strategic answer is "tender."

But then, learning that the sign in the above photo translates verbatim to Jensen's Beefhouse doesn't much improve things. Imagine what it's like being a waiter there: "Welcome to our beefhouse! How pink would you like your meat?" How many times can one dine there before indulging in at least one or two vulgar puns? And then how many lowbrow double entendres can one waiter endure before giving in to despair? There's a verbal reckoning coming soon at Jensen's, and I for one don't want to be there when it arrives.

B&J's Free Cone Day!

Just a quick reminder that 17 April is this year's Free Cone Day at Ben & Jerry's shops the world over. Wherever you are, look up the nearest B&J's to get your free cone.

If you're in Sweden, we've located the Swedish version of the announcement. But, of course, it's all to little avail unless you can find your local Swedish B&J's. As it turns out, there's one in Malmö at the Hansagallerian, and we think there's one in Stockholm on Kungsholmen at the Västermalmsgallerian (Corner of S:t Eriksgatan and Fleminggatan; T-stop: Fridhemsplan). Count on us being there in the early afternoon, savoring our free Phish Food.

Where "economists" rule

As many of our loyal readers know, H is currently attending the Stockholm School of Economics on exchange. The main building for the school lies in between our apartment and the Stockholm City Library, which (as we've mentioned) lies only half a block away from us. That puts the SSE practically next door.

Like so many Stockholmian buildings, the SSE evinces a rather ponderous and solemn aspect. But at least it isn't one the grotesqueries which sometimes pass for university buildings these days.

Fee fie fo fum. I hear knocking a tiny someone...

Our apartment is only a bit off to the "left" in the above photos. And speaking of those photos, who is that tiny-seeming someone before the massive doors which admit only the economically initiate?

Bwa hah hah! It is all mine!

It's amazing how big architecture makes you feel small. And that's no mean feat when it comes to my big, bold, beautiful wife. Even in this photo, the massiveness of the building fails entirely in preventing H from owning the place. And who's gonna' stop her? Certainly not me, certainly not the architecture--and I seriously doubt any SSE student would represent more than a speedbump on her path to global dominion.

Incidentally, if you ask really nicely in the comments, I bet y'all could convince H to explain the "Female Economist of the Year" award. Worth a try.

Göteborg's finest

H and I have finally finished putting together all our posts on Göteborg.

While we hope most of you will remember the lipstick episode (and who could forget that?!), we've also added more material on the urban design and architecture of Göteborg, including a riotous post covering their church devoted to fish. Yes, fish. And shellfish. And mayonnaise. And fish. Yum. And did we mention that it's a church? (OK, so it's not really a church; but they do call it the Feskekörke, which means the fish church.)

If you'd rather skip the serious stuff, you can jump directly to our (always hilarious) commentary on the city and its culture, including the Göteborgeois's potentially unhealthy obsession with mobile homes, xenophilia, highly trustworthy law firms, and overdeveloped sense of direction. We also learned a bit about the demise of the Swedish plan for their own basketball "dream team."

Oh, yes. Almost forgot. Watch out for those mad trams!

Back among our Stockhomies

Yes, you read right. It's apparently not Stockholmians (as we first thought), but Stockhomies. And we are back among them, enjoying the lengthening days and expensive coffee.

Some readers have asked for a few posts on H's and my immediate neighborhood. Happy to oblige. (There will be a few more posts forthcoming on the subject, so stay tuned!)

Notwithstanding Modern architecture's all-too-numerous utter and unassailable stupidities, it also lays claim to a few flashes of genius. Since Modern architecture was pretty much the first global architectural "style," one finds it everywhere. Stockholm as a city is perhaps unfortunate in that it seems to have acquired more than its fair share of Modern crap, but we're lucky in that one of the best early Modern designs lives about half a block from our apartment.

Half Prussian fortress and half wedding cake, the Stockholm public library inhabits the middle ground between civic authority and geometric whimsy.

Erik Gunnar Asplund's forward-looking design for Stockholm's city library

marks an architectural turning point, the more traditional classicism of the early sketches giving way to increasing simplification. The ornamentation was gradually pared down to a few pictorial friezes in bas relief. In the simple, glazed shopfront base completed in 1928, functionalism has already made its entrance.

Apart from the building's historical import, it's extremely convenient to have it so close. H and I constantly raid the library's surprisingly substantial English language section, trawling for fun classics and the better best-sellers. (We've set up our own little "A-Store" on Amazon.com, so you can browse H's recent reads, J's faves, and other recommendations by clicking on the appropriate links over on the right sidebar.) While the inside of the library isn't up to the same standard as the outside (too much fluorescent lighting... blech!), the building still makes for a wonderful backdrop for our urban adventures.

We're not in Kansas anymore

No, indeed! We're in Malmö, Sweden. "Where's Malmö?" you ask. Well, it's polite of you to try and draw me into conversation with your questions, but you don't have to pretend to ignorance on my account. Everyone knows that everyone knows where Malmö is.

Here. Malmö is right here. As everyone knows.

And a good thing, too, that everyone (including us!) knows where Malmö is, since we had rather a disorienting experience recently. We were actually enjoying ourselves immensely in Copenhagen when a great tornado swept down out of the Nordic sky and transported us non-stop to Sweden's third largest city.

The "Turning Torso" has become one of Malmö's signature buildings (read: BSS).

OK, OK, so we actually planned the trip to Malmö. As it turns out, H has an internet friend of hers, GS--an Australian man with whom she's played online Scrabble (watch out--it's a really weird site) for years, but had never met in person--who lives here with his lovely wife SN and adorable baby girl C. On our way back to Stockholm from Copenhagen, we joined them for GS's birthday/Easter brunch this past Sunday and had ourselves a raucous good time. Well, in all honesty we weren't all that raucous, but we did eat a lot of bacon.

H and I have rarely met a warmer group of people. And they're Swedes. So much for stereotypes.

The weather has become rainy, so we don't expect to get out much today or tomorrow. Hopefully, though, we'll be able to see at least a little of this compact city. All the natives seem to love it, and there are few better recommendations.

Goings on in Denmark

Blogging may be a bit light for the next few days, as H and I will be traveling first to København (Copenhagen), Denmark and then to Malmö, Sweden. We're scheduled to depart early Thursday 5 April 2007 and we plan to return late Tuesday 10 April 2007. If we have time and internet access, we'll try to post a little bit, but no promises--we're not likely to have too much time, anyway. Reports on the Danish and Southern Swedes for sure when we return!

Of palaces and princesses

This past Sunday (1 April 2007), our friends AB and GM took H and me to visit Drottingholm Palace, the official residence of the Swedish Royal Family. One wing is open to the public as a museum, while the other continues to serve as the royal family's living quarters. (Celebrity news note: the youngest princess, Madeleine, has been entertainingly trying to ditch her reputation as the Swedish Paris Hilton; no denying she's pretty--as is her sister, Crown Princess Victoria--but I think they both seem rather too sensible to aspire to the awe-inspiring embarrassingness that is Paris Hilton. Besides, I think PH dips herself in ugly two or three times a week.) Architecturally, both the building and its French-style gardens are obviously inspired by, if not out-and-out copies of, the Chateau de Versailles.

Excuse me, you two. You're blocking my view of the palace. OK, thanks.

In perusing the museum--which contains several notable paintings and craft objects--H was most impressed by the number of portraits of women in which the content and composition both suggested that the women depicted not only held nominally but exercised practically real power. Women with architectural plans splayed before them or with scepters in their hands. I most enjoyed the ceiling frescoes in the grand stair, which contained a few really excellent examples of anamorphosis. (No photos were permitted indoors.)

We also visited the Chinese Pavilion, a collection of buildings on

the majestic grounds of Drottningholm.

King Adolf Fredrik surprised Queen Lovisa Ulrika on her birthday in 1753 with a small Chinese pleasure palace in the Drottningholm Palace park. It was a highly appreciated birthday present as chinoiserie was all the rage in Europe at the time.

The original wooden building was replaced in the 1760s by a more permanent one, which today contains one of the finest European rococo interiors with chinoiserie.

Recipe for architectural whimsy: (1) Visit China. (2) See Chinese architecture. (3) Take notes. (4) Give notes to Swedish workmen. (5) Instruct Swedish workmen to build "authentic" Chinese pavilion. (6) Enjoy.

One of the smaller buildings was apparently also used by the royal couple as a kind of dinner pavilion. The kitchen (now a café which bustles on the weekends) is in the basement, and the section of the floor upon which the dinner table sits actually moves up and down like an elevator. The king and queen were thereby able to have a full-service meal without any servants hovering about. Very clever.

Notice the dark line around the feet of the table...

We had another delightful afternoon with AB and GM, we learned a bit about Swedish history and culture, and the weather was glorious. What more can one ask of a Sunday afternoon?

There is a spring!

At the distant end of the Stygian Scandinavian winter, there buds a promise of spring.

No, you're not dreaming. And I swear on my camera: no Photoshop.

We've had five straight days of blue sky, sun, and mild temps. I even saw a few Swedes actually smile at each other for no reason. Spring really is in the air.

Hunker in the bunker

Cultures always vary in surprising ways. That's one of the reasons we started this blog: to track those variances in a way which both entertains and edifies. And so we've looked at transportation, security, boobs--I mean advertising, chairs, dancing meatballs, and Santa Claus. Heck, we've even looked at thermodynamics. But there's one place we haven't taken you yet, and that's to la toilette.

Now, don't worry. I just want to show you the outside of a Swedish public toilette, because it's rather a funny design. In Scandinavia (not just Sweden--we've seen this same design in Estonia, too), you design public toilettes basically by crossing a circa 1950s US-government-recommended backyard fallout shelter...

Um, excuse me. I'm trying to wait out a nuclear attack, here. Sheesh!

...with the Musée D'Orsay.

Because barrel vaults and half-moon windows obviously reflect good taste.

At the business end of our Swedish architectural sausage machine, we get this:

A tasteful place to answer nature's call during a nuclear attack.

But I really shouldn't pick too much on Sweden. After all, it's not like this is the most unusual toilette in the world or anything. (Don't take my word for it--click the link and see for yourself...) And let's face it, toilettes are pretty funny no matter how you design them.

How much would you pay for this... icon?

I'd like to know, in all seriousness, what was going through the decider's mind when the decision was made to endorse this design:

Is that an honest-to-God Greek tholos at the--uh... tip?

I'd also like to know what this BSS cost. What is up with architecture today?

Gratis tix to Tallinn

As many of our faithful readers know, H is the scion of a family which boasts a long line of Scottish accountants. Which is another way of saying that H is drawn to good deals the way that hungry bunnies are drawn to lettuce. So when she received an email earlier this week, offering a free round trip to Tallinn, Estonia (aboard the Tallink Cruise Line's M/S Victoria, which turned out to be much nicer than Viking Line's M/S Cinderella) if only we would act as ticket couriers for some SSE classmates on a trip to Russia, H hesitated just long enough to ask, "J, would you be satisfied with a single day in Tallinn, so long as the cruise tickets cost us nothing?" To which I gamely replied, "Where's Tallinn?"

Have I mentioned that my mother is an outstanding travel agent?

I wish I could blame my ignorance on someone else, but really, I have no excuse. Until last week I was calling the body of water which separates Sweden and the Baltics, "the North Sea." Which makes sense only if you are either (a) a bit on the slow side when it comes to making the whole Baltic States<->Baltic Sea connection or (b) geographically hopeless. Not that I want to be in either category, but I still choose (a), since I desperately want to believe that I'm not like the schmucks in this clip.

I've watched this clip at least 10 times now, and I am stilled awed by the... Good God! Are these people aware of what they're saying?! (Don't answer that.)

UPDATE (22 March 2007): We're confirmed for our free cruise to Tallinn! Details on our Baltic adventure to follow! Stay tuned!

It's St. Patrick's Day every day in Stockholm

Most of us run around with a great deal of incorrect information sloshing around in our memories. That's why it's so wonderful when a private company makes an effort to correct common misconceptions. For example, I'm betting that most our dear readers have heard of the famous explorer, Marco Polo. You probably learned--you may even have read--that Marco Polo grew up in and, in his travels, acted as a representative of, Venezia (Venice). That would mean, obviously, that Mr. Polo was a Venetian. But we've been deceived!

Now, as we all know, everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day. Well, Irish enough to drink green beer and dress up as leprechauns. Which is Irish enough for pretty much everyone except the Irish themselves, so it pretty much works out.

In researching this whole Marco-Polo-wasn't-Venetian thesis, I searched the internet for rules regarding the rule about everyone being Irish on St. Patrick's Day, and the most unexpected thing I learned is that

"even leprechauns need colonoscopies."

Good to know. Well, good to know if you're a leprechaun with a family history of colon cancer. Which puts most of us squarely in the didn't-need-to-know-that category.

Since I couldn't find any exceptions, I am forced to conclude that Marco Polo was indeed Irish on at least one day per year. Whether he made mention of it--or indeed, whether he knew it at all--is beside the point. What's not beside the point is that we all know that you can't start a whole line of clothing stores working only one day per year on it. Ergo, Marco Polo was, in fact, Marc O'Polo.

Aye know yer tinkin' dat Aye'm Venetian, but really Aye'm eye-rrish--'n' so arr me clothes.

I've got a big, fat O-apostrophe to give first person who can prove that, in one of those grand, Christopher-Columbus-style miscalculations which seem to turn up in history all too often, Mr. Polo ended up Ireland, but simply reported that he had been to China. Who wants to be the very first O'al-Mubarak or O'Rousseau or O'Goldstein?

Sex in the City: Part Deux

Babies and their strollers abound in Stockholm. At first, I thought I might just be hyper-sensitive to them because J's Law of Swedish Entropy often applies to pedestrians on Swedish sidewalks. Then, I wondered if I might be sensitive because my friends are having adorable children like it's going out of style. But then, my friends started talking about it. Women with strollers, men with strollers, a veritable stroller parking lot just next to one of our favorite cafes... And we're not just talking about any stroller here--most of them are the BMW of strollers.

What gives? The name of a shop in Barcelona seemed to hold the explanation.

No, no, Moms, we don't have any good news for you... I'm just hamming it up for the camera.

Oh, ooookay--SJP and her cronies have moved onto their next phase of life and given into their maternal cravings. Don't you love it when one of life's little mysteries is solved, particularly during an afternoon of retail therapy?

This building has a nickname

Our apologies for the lack of steady posting recently. H has been finishing up her final papers/ exams, and I've been working on several projects--all of which seem to have had deadlines this week. Not to mention the fact that we leave for Barcelona (yay!) at 3:20 AM this morning (nay...). It's been a rough week.

So anyways, H and I visited Sweden's second largest city, Göteborg (pronounced something like, "Yuh-tuh-borrg"), the first weekend in March. We absolutely loved it, and we'll have more material forthcoming about the trip. Before rushing off to the Mediterranean, though, I wanted to get at least something up about it.

Among all of Göteborg's iconic buildings--and the city boasts quite a number of them--there's one which has one of the best nicknames for any building of which I've heard.

It's the... um... wait a minute. The, uh... "Redroof Dalek" building?

No, dah-link. It's not the "Redroof Dalek" building. Nor is it the "Edna Mode" building. But those are good guesses.

What if H and her rosebud lips help us with a little... context (as it were)?

Yup. It's the "läppstift" building.

Just one question. So at what point, when the design committee was looking at the concept drawings for this project, did someone not say, "I don't care what you say, Jurgen. It still looks lipstick to me?"

UPDATE (2 April 2007): We've pretty much finished our posting about Göteborg. Check in the archives for posts in the 1-7 March 2007 range.