Whooo, haven't posted here in a while...

The last week has been really hectic. For once, I've got too much to share than I can really blog...

After the seminar last week, our program launched into a full week--I repeat, a full week, including two weekends--where we had no class. The professors provided us this time to work on our first major take-home exam, which entailed reading a 250-page ethnographic analysis in its entirety, and then writing up our personal review. As you can expect, this clearly did not take a week to do, and thus my habits started to lean in other directions...

Tuesday started awesome enough. Upon seeing their neon-colored posters on the walls of a local bar, I learned that Phosphorescent was coming to Göteborg on their European tour. After some crafty inquiries by a former co-worker, I managed to get on the band's guest list, saw a transcendent set, and met a new friend. Still can't believe it. When I figure out how to compress video files, I will so be putting up the video I took of "Reasons to Quit"...but for now:



And so started a week of owling. Wednesday, I played football and goofed/studied until 3am. Thursday, there was a birthday party; out until 3am. Friday, my roommate threw a small party at our flat, which ended with a late-night run to a waterfront dance club, out 'till 2am. Saturday, went to a CD release party (band was decent), danced until 4am. Sunday, turned in my paper, went out for dinner, pretty much happily stayed up all night. Monday: class at 9am.

I'm beginning to notice a serious trend in Sweden in terms of social life. Going out is very expensive. There is no such thing here as 'going out for a beer'---if you drink, you drink to forget. And that's only if you have the cash. Often, a beer (3.5%, mind you) that tastes like Corona Lite is about $8-10 if you don't find a cheap deal. Mixed drinks are about the same, though the shots are smaller. Vodka is popular, as is whiskey, and an assortment of other hard liquors I have yet to taste (aquavit, for example)...

You also have to pay for where you drink. Half the time, if you want to see a concert, or if you want to go dancing (which seems to be far more popular than pubs or bar-crawling), you have to pay an entrance fee between $9-20. Yes, the dancing goes until 4am or maybe even earlier, but still, that's a hefty price when beer is so dilute and so expensive.

So, all in all, the message is: drink at home, and as far as I've observed, that's the general trend. It's much cheaper and often in far better company than lots of drunk, drunk, drunk Swedes.

Not to say that there aren't cheap parties. The underground scene here is famously active. All the good parties that are worth going to and are cheap or free are spread word-of-mouth by Facebook. Yes, seriously fun parties like the night-time ragers in Swedish parks and the poetry slams and the underground art festivals are all spread via Facebook group. If you're not in the group, you're not in the know. And your night continues to revolve around 2002 American club music (and the occasional Michael Jackson). Now isn't that interesting?

Anyway. That's that for social life, at the moment. Soon, I'll report back on the lighter side of my social life that revolves around school: museum outings, innovative exhibits, and opening night parties.

Fun. :)

Ah, sweet Reassurance...

Today, I'm sitting in my program's first seminar (currently listening to group 6 out of 9), where my class is presenting our first critical evaluations of local Swedish museums around the Göteborg area. I already went early in the morning--the only native English speaker in our group--on Sjöfartsmuseet Akvariet (the Maritime Museum and Aquarium), and now we're hearing a critique of the Gothenburg City Museum...

I suppose I need to remind you a bit about this assignment. Last week, we were sorted into groups and each assigned a local museum to formally critique. We were expected to integrate our reading assignments into a cohesive oral report that explores everything from museum audience to exhibition, from collections to access and representation from a sociological perspective...

You're probably thinking (if you're reading this and not in my program): "wow, how boring" and I suppose yes, at times it has been (I did write this post during it, did I not?). With nine 20-minute presentations on a Friday, I too am surprised at how much I've stayed engaged. But after such a sporadic start of the program, where content and organization has left much to be desired, it feels fantastic to finally see the professional aspects of the program take hold. And in fact, after today, I think I could confidently say that this---museums---is definitely what I want to do.

See, museums, and the field of museum studies, are undergoing rapid change. Today's museums are fighting a constant battle between keeping tradition or embracing modernity---whether to simply inform or to actively engage society---and often, these institutions get stuck within their own means and mission statements in trying to keep up with modern society. It is clear, after a seminar like today, that the need for fresh, innovative ideas here is dire, and its been fantastic to hear the diversity of comments from my fellow classmates. I'll tell you, the future of museums is bright if you hired one of us: no more of these dull, drab, traditional institutions, but bright and dynamic community spaces that encourage multidisciplinary debate and discussion… :-)

As an outsider, the seminar probably would seem like a very thorough preview of all the major tourist attractions in the area. And in a way, it is---but one that leaves me both inspired and relieved. It's been difficult to get the reassurance that this decision to move to Sweden was a good one, especially since my discipline is so different than what the majority of others have studied. But though many museums we've talking about are not exactly within my interests, its very evident that it'd be beneficial to visit all museums to learn what they do best and what they could do different. And, after getting to know my professors better, it is clear I will not be singled out as a minority within the program (later, I will recollect my first visit to the Universeum).

All in all, I am extremely happy. Plus there are plans to go to a massive opening party tonight for an exhibit at the World Culture Museum celebrating modern Japanese street culture. 


Oh yeah: this year it's gonna be fun. 

Oh, hey, is my Science showing?

Ah, you've arrived in Europe. And after much hearty traveling and securing yourself a cozy flat, you suddenly find yourself with the big American need to pig out. You decide, in order to save money for the ridiculously expensive beer menus in this town, you'd like to bake yourself out of hunger.

BUT WHAT'S THIS?? YOU DON'T KNOW THE METRIC SYSTEM?

Fear not! Here, as promised, follows my careful, step-by-step account of going from cups to liters, in no time at all (that's a lie---it took three hours). Soon, my friends, you'll be baking like the rest of the world---thanks to my skill as dutiful lab slave...

How do I know I'm in Scandinavia...?

Today's a trying day..

Following the food trend...

Eating here is fantastic. Very simple. Very refreshing. Of course you can find nearly every ethnic food you could want, but really, I find myself eating extremely well with the very basics. Fruits, vegetables. Yogurt smoothies for breakfast. Fresh breads. Hard boiled eggs. Small cold-cut sandwiches. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.

But, it did get some taking used to. Here are couple things that, coming from America, you notice (you know, besides the metric system):

• Things are sold with less pasteurization. Milk, eggs, and other dairy products will typically last about 7-8 days. Good thing my previous residence got me constantly checking the expiration dates on food out of habit…
• Produce is smaller, but probably the same price. I suspect more local and organic sources.
• The breads and cheese selection here are sprawling. Seriously. And the hard cheese is in typically sold in 1 lb packages.
• Vanilla extract is in powder form, not liquid. 
• You don’t buy red meat. It’s crazy expensive. Chicken’s not as bad. But veggies and beans is where it’s at…you know, from a poor student’s perspective.

 And of course, there’s the differences in what surrounds the food you’re eating. Like how I swear the microwaves work faster here. And how plastic containers for, say, cherry tomatoes and the like, are quite flimsy (less plastic). And how yogurt is sometimes in cardboard boxes. And how there are far less plastic bags in plastic bags in plastic bags in boxes. The packaging here is great. And recycling here is practically mandatory—like breathing.

This week, I plan to launch my first endeavor to bake something in a European kitchen. This means converting my American recipes to metric measurements, looking up Swedish vocabulary words, finding the equivalent supplies, and—most importantly—figuring out how my oven works.

Being that the odds of this project gong horribly wrong are quite high, I promise I’ll post my findings.

I definitely just cut myself with a cheese slicer…

It’s Tuesday, and since class hasn’t picked up really from introductory classes (Library Tutorial, 10-12.00; How to Write Academic English, Part 1, 13-15.00…), I’ve been alternating between reading my new museum texts and soaking up what’s left of the sun in true Swedish fashion…

But anyway—good news! Today I found (to my utter delight) the Pike Place equivalent in Göteborg, called Stora Saluhallen, located down right in Kungsportsplatsen where, in the last days of summer, you can still find people wearing sunglasses and nomming on sandwiches on the sides of the canals. Saluhallen is a great big building, built in late 1880s, by an architect by Hans Hedlund, whose work you can spot pretty regularly around the city. It sits in a great open courtyard, where, if you get there on time, there are outside vendors from neighboring Swedish farms selling their own produce, and smaller bakeries selling decent lunch deals to the throngs of tourists and locals.

Inside is quite stunning—a grand, light-filled hall that’s ripe with the smells of spices, cheese, bread, and peppered meat, and everything echoes with the talk of people. In narrow lines, there are dozens of smaller, private stores that sell nearly everything tasty on this Earth that exists. In my slow dance around the place, there were bread and cakes for sale, plentiful white cheeses, green and maroon olives alongside handmade gnocchi and truffles, dried fruit and exotic nuts, bright red coffee tins and glass jars of spices, rows of white-marbled meats and ribs…

I’m actually quite at peace, just thinking about it, really. 

Class starts at 10:00, thanks, plus or minus 15 minutes...

So my first day of graduate school started this week. It's been a strange couple of days, filled with schedule changes, cramped rooms, and awkward meet-and-greet parties in which I already met some phenomenal people...

Apparently, with the end of free tuition for international students, my program is the biggest the school has seen in its small ten year history. There are nearly 50 students in the class, the majority of which are Swedes and Canadians (ha). I think the oldest student is rounding 45 or so, and the youngest is pegged at an eye-opening 20-years-old. Almost all the students come from an art/history/anthropology/archeology/cultural/communication background. I am absolutely the only person with a hard science degree.

Well, I can't say I didn't expect it.

The curriculum is thought-provoking. Like, for instance--did you know that 95% of museums were established after World War II? or Did you know that exhibit representation and presentation are two drastically different things with serious visitor implications? [Well, neither did I.]

At the moment, we're taking it slow, going over what is required of us as students and the format of how school will go for the next couple months. Combinations of lectures, group work, and individual assignments seem to be the norm, and several trips outside the classroom are scheduled. Next week, I go to the Maritime Museum in Göteborg to do my first critical museum evaluation, and I hope to god I find something interesting there.

But aside from the lecture topics and getting to know my culturally- and academically-diverse classmates, I am rather sad to say the rest of my first week in school has been lamentably stressful. 

Despite having at least 60 or 70 students in the School of Global Studies (which includes all the masters programs, of which there are two others) that are from outside of Sweden, it has been extremely hard to get helpful information from the faculty on how to establish our lives here in this new city. With the help of Magnus and Katarina, I appear to be one of the few international students who seems to have their act together. But the majority of international students seem to be grappling with one, some, or all of the following: jet lag, lost visas/passports/luggage, lack of personnummers (see previous post), no bank accounts, no card keys to buildings, no library cards to print course material, broken computers, language barriers, or in the most extreme cases, no living residence. In any case, time before, between, and after lecture is usually a chaotic mess of desperate student chatter: because the administration don't seem to have the answers, most of the students have been depending on each other to get what they need. 

I'd love to say that the disorganization ends there, but unfortunately, aspects of class itself are just as unsteady. The passion in our class is serious; you can feel it the air when you enter the room, everyone's got a personal credo for being there. But for the last couple days, much of lecture has been either repetitive or agonizingly slow. Some people I've talked to have argued that this is merely the difference between graduate school in Europe and graduate school in America---but one thing is clear: many of us, wherever we're from, are getting frustrated with how the faculty doesn't seem to have it together.

Personally, I share many of the same sentiments as my peers. However, while everyone's been talking about personnumers and where the nearest IKEA is, I find myself sitting back in my chair, nervous and critical.

So far, it is very clear that this program caters to art/history/cultural museums. Much of the early coursework highlights aspects of collection, display, and societal stereotypes---all of which is, truthfully, interesting and indeed relevant towards science museums. And, to their credit, the faculty has attempted to integrate material that does have a certain "scientific edge" (ie: evaluations of natural history museums, emphasis on analytical and statistical data, etc.). But it seems, more and more, that my bachelors in molecular biology seems to peg me automatically as either the "natural history" kid or the museum-clueless nerd in the back of the class.

Let me get this straight: I'm not trying to sound bitter. I am optimistic and excited to be the wild card in the group, and many people have told me outright that they appreciate having someone from my background present for lecture. But let's take this for example: as museology students, we are given "get-into-museums-free" cards, which grant us entry into at least five or six museums in the city. But my genre of museums---science and technology centers---are excluded from this, so I must make an extra effort to access places more relevant to my line of study. And when I ask the director whether it was possible to negotiate something with our contacts at the local science museum, Universeum, his first question was if studying the natural history museum will suffice.

No, I want to tell him. No, absolutely not.

Needless to say, I'm looking forward to next week. Hopefully then, I can stop paying for things solely with cash, I can visit some cool museums with some cool people, and the unease that has been rippling through the class will start to die down. But I can't help but feel, as I sit in these Swedish cafes with my coffee and freshly-printed articles, that something better appear soon that justifies me coming here and bringing my life in Seattle to a grinding halt. 

Anyway. Here's to next Monday.