Fat Tuesday

On February 20th, while there were beads, booze, and ballyhoo in the bayou, Sweden celebrated “semlas”. That's right, Fat Tuesday (or Fettisdagen). While the French Quarter found itself full of shenanigans and tomfoolery, Jonkoping, Sweden took a day to recognize a vintage pastry: the semla, which is made from a spiced wheat bun and whipped cream. Lisa from Sweden explained to me that the week before Semla Day, Swedes used to fast for a week, eating very little, to prepare themselves for Lent. This was back in the day with the intense religious Swedes. The practice of fasting before Fat Tuesday is all but gone now, so I'm told. Then, on Fat Tuesday—Semla Day—a great feast is prepared and indulgences are made one last time before the 40 days preceding Easter begin.


I explained to my Swedish friend, Gustav, what goes on in New Orleans during Marti Gras, and I think he may be looking into exchange programs in Louisiana. Difference in culture I guess. For Semla Day, two of the professors who teach our course decided to show some Swedish hospitality. On Tuesday night Professor Ulla invited all of us to her house for soup. Ulla lives in a classic red house with wooden floors and a winding staircase. She said she thought it was important for us international students to get a taste of home every now and then. We
love Ulla.

To top it all off, another professor, Christina, actually brought the whole class homemade semlas. While discussing the history of this fine day, a conversation of differences in religious traditions came up. It was very interesting to hear about Ramadan (where Muslims fast during the hours of sunlight) from my classmate Andeleeb from Pakistan, and Passover and the similarities and differences between Swedish Lutheran Lent and Catholic Lent. At the end of the day, with our stomachs full and our spirits high, everyone left with a greater understanding of Swedish culture and each other.

Road Rules

Things have slowed down a little bit. No major trips in the last few weeks. Not a lot of trips, but a lot of classwork. There are times I will go out on an afternoon just to soak in my surroundings. Even without leaving the town I am able to go someplace new every day.

Being raised in Spearfish, or even going to school in Brookings, I have had the comfort of living in tight-knit communities. It doesn't take more than 15 minutes to get anywhere, especially if you hit the green lights. I have, on occasion (though I don’t recommend this) left my apartment in Brookings at 10 till the top of the hour, parked, ran, and made it to class at maybe two minutes past.

Such is not a scenario here.

Mind you, I'm not saying this is a negative or a downside to living in Jonkoping (pop: 100,000ish). I just mean that it is different from home.

This also is not the case for everyone. Quite the contrary. Of my three roommates, I come from the least populated area. James, from Tanzania, hails from a city of 4 million, the name of which I cannot spell. My other two roomies come from Istanbul, Turkey and Mexico City, Mexico, the seventh and eighth largest cities in the world, respectively, at around 8.2 million citizens.

To this man, the Lanstrafiken Buse is a new challenge all its own.

In order to successfully arrive to class at 9 a.m., a number of wheels must be set in motion. First off, I need to get up around 7:30 a.m., which is easier said than done, as it's still dark out.

After showering, blindly eating some cereal, putting in my contacts and frantically looking for my scarf, I need to be out the door at 8:21 at the latest to catch the 8:29 bus.

Thus was the case on Wednesday morning. After waking up a little late and skipping my bowl of Choko Flakes, I raced against the clock to grab my essentials and run to the bus.

Running to the bus, however, is not a simple task. I'm not sure if you've heard, but it snows a lot in Sweden, and at 8:24 in the morning, there are some pretty wicked patches of ice on the sidewalks.

I see the bus pulling away from the stop just before mine. I lower my head, dig deep, and make it to the bus stop just as the bus driver opens the doors. The snarling beast of a bus, spitting out fumes and eating up pavement, pauses for a moment.

A little background about riding the bus.

Living here just over a month, I have come to learn some of the social norms that go along with public transportation. The Swedes, though very polite and kind, helpful people, keep very much to themselves. There is not a lot of small talk on the bus. Except for the occasional abrasive teenager with his or her iPod and cell phone, I often ride the bus in silence. As I don't speak Swedish save for "Thak" (thank you) and "Hey do" (good bye) I am completely fine with this lack of verbal exchange. Also, when looking for a spot on the bus, if there is an open seat next to a stranger, it is nothing short of customary to remain standing the entire length of a given journey, rather than take a seat next to someone you've never met before. Not that this always happens, but I've seen it. I've also stood the whole way before. I don't make the rules.

Also, after riding the bus everywhere, every day, I've come to notice the differences in bus drivers. The good bus drivers can stop on a dime, placing the first door directly in front of you. The rookies fly past the bus stop and hit the breaks. Drivers, no doubt bitter and tired of their jobs, take the corners way too fast, probably just to see the looks on people’s faces. Kindly old bus drivers wave at people, and wait for the poor person running towards the bus, hands waving, whereas the stricter chauffeurs will leave you hanging, penalizing us young tempters of fate for being but 15 seconds tardy.

Anyway, I luckily reach the bus in the nick of time, only to realize I've forgotten my bus card in the pants pocket of jeans worn the night before.

I'm doomed.

I stealthily have a seat, hoping the bus driver opts not to give me the death stare, refusing to start the bus until he hears the "beep" of my bus card, or until I walk up to the front and pay him.

Today though, I am a champion. This bus driver is concerned much more with being on time than with collecting dues.

On my way home at 4:30, I still have no bus card in my pocket. The red line to Roslatt is packed with people, and this time I could easily slip in without payment. My fear of Karma however gets the better of me, and I pay the 16 Kroner (something like $2.30) for the ride.

I get home and find my bus card, placing it firmly in the plaid wallet my grandma got me for Christmas, after her dog ate my old one. This day I am victorious...but the bus will be waiting tomorrow...every ten minutes.

Copenhagen

Perusing the syllabus of my upcoming semester in Sweden, I believe I can safely assume it's going to be a blast. I really look forward to the five weeks of field experience I will gain in a Swedish high school (or in Swedish "Gymnasium") Somehow, in all of my preparation and looking toward the future, I failed to notice the itinerary for January 28-30: a trip to Copenhagen, Denmark.

Not a trip taken for leisure--though fun times were expected to be had. My classmates and I found out that this trip was planned and funded by our professors and the School of Education (or "Hogskolan i Larande"). We were responsible only for meal money. The trip to Copenhagen would include three of the four professors who run our course, and we 20 students who make up the Interculture Teacher class.

We left at 1 p.m. (or 1300 in Europe) and drove south for about three hours, until we hit the Swedish coast. Our bus docked onto a huge ferry that transported us for about twenty minutes across a canal. On the other side of the canal, we found ourselves in Denmark. Off to the North, as our teacher pointed out some spires not far away, is the castle where Shakespeare's play Hamlet is said to have taken place.

Copenhagen

We drive another 45 minutes and are in the heart of Copenhagen (or KØBENHAVN in Danish). All of us eat at a Turkish restraunt, and then Dr. Hans Christen Øster (our professor of philosophy and religion in education) takes us on an impromtu tour of downtown Copenhagen, where he went to University. We end our night in DanHostel, the largest hostel in Denmark, with a friendly game of poker with Mentos as chips. (Sarah from Sweden ended up with all the Mentos, much to the dismay of myself and Rodger from Holland.)

Early the next morning, we all wake to begin our fun-filled, educational day in Denmark. Initially at 7 am I'm not very thrilled about life, but watching the sunrise over Copenhagen quickly changes my mood.

Our first stop is at the Natalie Zahles school. This is an entire school system from primary school to high school and then a teacher college with a number of different buildings all located within one city block. The school, founded in 1853, was the first educational institution exclusively for women. More than 100 years later in 1967 men were admitted and the school has been open to all students who can afford it ever since.

Natalie Zahles school

After lunch, we were given an hour to wander Copenhagen before going on our next educational adventure. Most of the girls opted to check out the capitol city's shopping opportunities. I decided to take a walk throug a park located right in the middle of Copenhagen. It was beautiful weather, and the nature surrounded by the city was a fascinating and surreal environtment. A group of Ukrainian girls and I threw some Ukraine coins off a bridge into the stream, ensuring, according to legend, we would meet at that same spot again someday.

Central Park

After everyone re-grouped at the bus, we headed west on a main avenue in Copenhagen. The farther west we travelled, the greater the difference in the landscape became. Pretty soon store signs were exclusively in Arabic, and as we took a right and parked the bus, Hans Christian, our religious education professor, explained to us we were in the Muslim sector of Copenhagen, and our next site to be seen was a mosque.

As we, a group of 23, removed our shoes and entered the mosque, a man led us into a large room with carpet bearing diagonal lines running from one side of the room to the other. Hans Christian and the tour guide then explained to us a brief history of the Islamic faith, and then showed the group how a traditional prayer service in a Muslim mosque would be conducted.


Directly after this, a man, who's name I never caught, gave us a presentation about the multicultural challenges of being both Danish and Muslim. Copenhagen is home to about 120,000 Muslims and with the world's Islamaphobia, dispelling stereotypes and upholding traditional cultures has been an "interesting journey." It was very educational, and after learning about the Islamic faith in World History class at SDSU, and then watching major news networks "educate" the masses about the Muslim world, it was a great experience to sit down and talk honestly with someone about cultural and religious stereotypes, misunderstandings, and differences between two very contrasting worlds.

After the eye opening Islamic seminar, we were cut loose on the town and given from 2 p.m. to 7 p.m. to explore Copenhagen. My friend, Ingebor, from Holland, and I walked around talking pictures, window shopping at Versace, and ended up eating at a resteraunt called "The American Pizza Buffet."

At 8:00 the class attended a big band swing concert featuring Bob Metzger and the Denmark Big Band. It was pretty much awesome.

The next morning the group checked out the motel and off we went to a private Arabic school system, much like the Natalie Zahles school, except instead of a Christian-based education, this school has a Muslim-oriented education system.

After getting a chance to to observe some class rooms in action, I have to say the aspect I was most intereste in was the language education. I got a chance to speak with two ninth-grade girls, one from Lebanon, the other from Syria, and they could carry on a conversation in Danish, Arabic, English, and French. Amazing.

As obvious as it may sound, it was amazing to see the two different schools and look at the plethora of differences between them, while at the same time notice that all the children had one thing in common: people who care about them. Whether Arabic Muslim or Danish Christian, there were teachers who believed in them and, regardless of religion or subject matter, both schools have the central goal to prepare the youth of today for, hopefully, a future with tolerance and understanding.

After grabbing some lunch at a Kebob resteraunt, we had one more stop to go, the Little Mermaid statue, as made famous by Copenhagen native Hans Christen Anderson.


It was an amazing trip. Not only did our class build relationships with each other through comradery and mutual experiences, but I got to see Copenhagen and the way children are being taught on the other side of the world.