$$$$$@%&s^*grrr-ack!! :)

Ack. It has been five days now, and I still cannot open a bank account.

Between not having a social security number (which almost everyone simply drop their mouths at) and not having a legitimate residence contract (aka, a lease), the prospect of me actually getting a SEB debit card and being able to pay my racking bills is getting harder and harder to grasp. I think it’s time to look for another Swedish bank…

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I am not in a bad situation. I can get access to my money. But only in controlled increments every 24 hours. And you’d be surprised how much cash you go through when you have to buy food, pay a housing deposit, and all the extra little things you need—especially when you brought practically nothing.

In response to this, I find myself eating a lot more peanut butter toast to quell my unease. The key to getting things done here, I have decided, is to remain focused. But still, I wonder how long my peanut butter will last…

You see, it’s funny: it is not the bigger picture that reminds me that I’m not at home—it is by far, the smaller things. Like not being able to read signs, or not knowing how to open doors, or knowing how to do laundry. It’s my American quarters co-inhabiting with Swedish kronars, and not knowing my own cell phone number anymore. Or the hour long timeslot I need to just buy a dozen food items at Hemsöp.

Either way, I find myself just taking several moments during the day to just breathe. Using my iTouch helps a lot. Whenever I don’t want to deal with the white noise of a foreign place, the music tunes it all out so that it becomes manageable—it’s just another city. These last couple days I’ve used this tactic to keep myself in selective isolation so I just continue to move forward.

I’ll admit, it’s strange to be in my head so much, but—like I’ve told Elin—I’ve been waiting for this luxury for months. No more lists. No more rushing. Now, I wake up early and Internet. I get dressed slowly. I eat small meals and walk aimlessly around this city for hours, assessing my surroundings and maintaining a quiet curiosity.

So, hear’s to the day I get my bank account. It’ll be an accomplishment indeed. But until then, I’ll just make some more toast and draw another Swedish church.