Everything in its right place

The Vagabond-Air

Of course, there is something incredibly frightening about challenging the very foundation on which you have built your identity.  Many gracious people have told me that it takes a lot of courage to change course, to question, to reconsider.  I understand what they mean and take comfort.  Nevertheless, it is difficult, uncertain, and----at the end of the day---solitary to break free from expectation and create something of your own design.  Everyone does this at some point in their lives on some level.  It's apparently a part of growing up or at least that's what someone recently told me.


Every human being develops their own currency: some skill or knowledge that gives you agency and leverage.  Mine was certain, concrete, and validated by the social and academic spheres in which I have invested the past seven years.  Valuable, but heavy.  Well-mapped, but excruciatingly prescribed.  For the moment, I have decided to suspend mine.  A temporary bankruptcy, if you will.  Perhaps I will choose to reclaim it once the marks of its weight have faded, but for now I allow myself not to think about it.


Yes. There is something frightening about all of this, but I have been fortunate enough in the past three months to experience more relief than fear, more balance than unsteadiness.  Having finally tied up my loose ends in Providence, I arrived in Stockholm last week.


It is not my first time in Sverige.  I have been coming to Stockholm every few years since I was eighteen. There are a lot of other firsts, however, that I expect will make this time around feel as exciting and interesting as I first remember it.

I have no expectations for this blog except to create a space where I can record things that I come across that inspire me or at least make me laugh.  Raised by an immigrant father,  I consider stumbling upon cultural differences and getting lost in translation to be one of my greatest and most familiar pleasures.  I look forward to entertaining the Swedes with my apparently very American mannerisms...whatever that means.  (Ha).


You are correct in thinking 'das moustache' is German, not Swedish.  That didn't stop this conversation from happening the other night:


"So what kind of moustache are you guys going to grow for prostate awareness month?"
"Handle-bar."
"Snidely Whiplash." (Dali for those of you unfamiliar with Rocky and Bullwinkle)
"Whatever I can grow in time."
"Postage stamp---no, just kidding.  It sucks that Hitler had to ruin that one for everyone.  What is the real name for that style?"
---pause---
"Das moustache."
"HAHAHA, OMG imagine what would happen if you tried to ride das metro with das moustache!"
"Someone would probably push you in front of das train."
"You would das die."
"Das too bad..."
"Das life!"




As for tjogofem...
Tjogofem is Swedish for 25.  
It is also pronounced nothing like anything you can conjure from the spelling.  
It is also the first Swedish word that I can pronounce without a trace of an American accent.  
It is also my age.  
It is also guaranteed to be relevant in conversation once a month.  And once every hour and minute if you happen to be very specific about telling time.  
So basically I'm fluent is what I'm saying.


And on that note, I return to studying Swedish.