Wednesday, May 29, 2019

The sentimentality of places, continued

Hey everyone!
A while back I wrote a post called "the sentimentality of places," all about different places in the world that I've been and forged some kind of special relationship with, and what they mean to me. In the intervening months since I published that post, I've had some wonderful chances to explore new places that have presented wonderful new experiences for me, and today I wanted to share those with you all.
So this is the sentimentality of places, continued.


The first two have a shared characteristic between them, at least within the context of college life:
Whenever I talk to people about my life and experiences at Beloit, one of the things I usually end up highlighting is that, although the school is situated in a fairly small community compared to what I and many of my classmates are used to, it's fairly easy, cheap, and efficient to reach Madison and Chicago from there. I've visited both of them from Beloit many times, and as such have come to form ample impressions of them, and have many great memories from these places.

1) Madison, Wisconsin:
Madison, in many ways, reminds me a lot of home. It's quite a bit bigger than Ann Arbor, and also has a bit more political weight as the state capital. But the presence of the University of Wisconsin's main campus, which is similar in size and scope to the University of Michigan back home, gives it a comparable feel. Many of the buildings are very pretty, and admission to most of the main landmarks of the city is free of charge. The Capitol Building in particular is a big one, being at the literal heart of the city, and very aesthetically pleasing to look at inside and out. Madison is the one of the two cities that I tended to visit more often - as Beloiters can get a $9 roundtrip discount on bus tickets from campus, compared to $44 roundtrip to Chicago, it usually was the one I'd visit if I was just wanting to leave Beloit and explore on a whim. And it's a great place to do that. I love being able to blend in in the city's sleek coffee shops and eccentric shops, losing myself in the greater anonymity compared to Beloit. I've also stayed in Madison with my parents on a couple of weekend visits of theirs, and have fond memories of strolling the city's streets in highly contrasting seasons. I'm always up for a day in Madtown.
2) Chicago, Illinois:
I've been to Chicago many times even well before I came to Beloit; as it was a comfortable three-ish hours away from my hometown of Ann Arbor, it was popular as a destination for weekends or short trips during school breaks. Indeed, for a long time I'd go at least once a year, more or less, and I have many fond memories from when I was small of bright lakeside views in spring time, and energetically enjoying the children's playground at Navy Pier. More recently, since I started college, Chicago has become the second most common destination of my brief escapades from Beloit whenever I start to feel bogged down or stifled on campus, one of my main logistical transit points for when I'm moving between campus and home (regardless of the method of transport), the site of a couple of cool conferences I've attended, and also gained a bit of a homey side as well as I've grown closer with my bestie Paula and been most graciously and generously hosted at her cosy Libertyville domicile, exploring the city with a local to guide me. Aesthetically and architecturally I think Chicago is breathtaking, with hypnotically tall steel and glass buildings making for an elegant contrast between the blue of Lake Michigan and the open skies. And I love how grand and worldly it is, without losing that relaxed, laid back Midwestern touch.



3) New York City:
New York is a place I've been a fair number of times in my life, as it's quite familiar territory for my parents, who lived there for ten years before I or my sister came into the world, and we have lots of relatives on my father's side who live nearby in New Jersey, so trips to visit Jersey-based relatives over the years have often included passages of varying lengths through the City on the side as well.
It wasn't until my visit to the New York/New Jersey area last September right before I left for Russia, when I went into the City two days in a row, once for my good friend Sikander's violin recital and once just to hang out with him for a while, that I started to see the City in a new light and truly, properly fall in love with it.
I think that because, to my previous point, I visited New York as a side part of bigger trips, I'd always associated it with movement, with passage, and thinking about New York as a place often came with a feeling of nostalgia for travel. However, going back two days in a row last year, spending part of the time moving around it introspectively by myself and the other parts with a dear friend who is a well-established local, I got to see it in a whole different light.


4) Turku, Finland:
As I've not shied away from mentioning in my posts about my experience in Finland, it was certainly not without challenges. My life in Turku was by no means perfect, and there were times when I felt touches of resentment towards the elements of monotony and difficulty that made it challenging. But overall, the town was a comfortable and fascinating home base through which to experience Finland. It had everything I felt I needed - plenty of cute cafes and tasty restaurants, a welcoming riverfront promenade, well-connected transportation systems, and a patchwork of elegant little towns and pristine parks in its surroundings. Turku is something of a special place in Finnish history, as it was the capital through all of Finland's six-hundred year stint as a Swedish province, and that history is truly perceptible in the parts of the city that have been preserved since that era, such as the Cathedral, the Old Square, and the area around the Castle. The presence of five different universities make it an intellectual powerhouse, with academia and the related tendencies towards reflection and learning a staple part of the city's culture. It also brings a distinct element of inter-regional and international flair, since people come from all over the country and all over the world to study at the universities and work in the city. People prattle on in all means of local and international languages as the stroll around town, going about their days.
In spite of the social challenges that I may have felt in my specific experience as an undergraduate exchange student, Turku was a comfortable and fun city in which to live, and it will always have a special place in my heart as my Finnish home, the place where I finally got to form a life and a daily routine in a place I dreamed of visiting since childhood.


5) Helsinki, Finland:
As much as I like Turku, I cannot deny my love for Helsinki, and its status as my very favorite city in Finland (and one of my favorites in the whole world). I got to visit five times over the course of my five months in Finland, which enabled me to explore the city thoroughly and get to know it well. And it's become one of my favorite places in the whole world. In many ways, I've found, Helsinki is my ideal city. It's just the right size; big enough to have the right kinds of worldly outreach, opportunities, and communities, but also small enough to have a more intimate sense of place and connection to the environment. It has lovely bookstores and libraries, calm cafes with tasty fare, beautiful cobblestone historic streets, and of course, in true Finnish fashion, positively crawling with saunas of all sorts, sizes, and calibers. Even being the capital and largest city in the whole country, it's surrounded by a wide arsenal of lush conifer forests, hidden lakes, and islands strewn in the Baltic waters like an archipelago of jewels, which are all easily and quickly accessible even from the most urbanized areas of the city. It combines so many of the best qualities of Finnish culture and life with a balanced, worldly outlook. As can probably be seen, I miss Helsinki greatly, and dearly hope to go back and spend a longer period of time there at some point in the future, weather it's grad school, doing some sort of job, or anything in-between.



6) Stockholm, Sweden:
My trip to Stockholm was one that had a personal significance that I cannot understate. My attraction to the Nordic world was born out of a curiosity about my Swedish roots on my American grandmother's side of my family, and so I had always hoped to visit their ancestral homeland. Stockholm's beauty can also not be understated - the first morning after I had arrived, I exited my hostel, and after not even ten minutes walking through the neighborhood near my hostel, admiring the cobblestone streets and bright red and yellow buildings gently illuminated by the sun, I burst into tears from how beautiful it was. I also cannot begin to describe the satisfaction and happiness I felt in the successful Swedish interaction I was able to have navigating through the city; even if it was just simple things, like ordering a Nutella crepe with bananas, or buying my bus ticket back to the airport, every word I uttered and interaction I had there helped me feel a connection to the city, to the land, to my heritage. Even in just a few days of introspective exploration through the city my great-great grandparents left for New Jersey, I felt a feeling of natural connection, of homeliness, almost, that I've only felt in places like Turkey, Iceland, and Finland. I can only say that I hope to go back sometime for longer, and continue cementing my connections to this place so important to my familial history.


7) Copenhagen, Denmark:
Among all of the Nordic capitals that I visited, Copenhagen stands out as a true favorite in so many senses. Helsinki holds a special place in my heart, and Stockholm is without a doubt the most beautiful. But if I have to pick a favorite among them, I go to Copenhagen every time.
Of course it's a beautiful city, with pretty beige, red-roofed older buildings and sleek, glassy newer architecture stretching over bright blue canals that look surprisingly clean. But Copenhagen's charm goes far beyond that. The biggest thing that captivated me while I was there was the energy, and how positive and warm it felt. Granted, I was there in the first week or so of beautiful spring weather after a winter that had been unusually harsh and cold throughout northern Europe, even by local standards, and everyone was flocking outside in droves as a result. But there was just such a palpably positive atmosphere, with everyone going outside for walks and boat rides, playing music and dancing along the sides of the canals, and celebrating. The vast majority of the locals I talked to were incredibly kind and friendly, and seemed to truly go out of their way to make me and other visitors feel welcome. The iconic Danish and Norwegian word hygge, described as "a quality of coziness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being," a truly staple quality of both Danish and Norwegian culture, hangs over the atmosphere of the whole city, and will become a defining aspect of any visitor's Danish experience. Although I was only in Copenhagen for four days, my time there was truly lovely, and having fallen deeply in love with the city, I look forward to going back and hopefully spending more time there at the earliest opportunity that comes my way.


8) Oslo, Norway:
My decision to visit Oslo earlier this spring was nearly on a whim, motivated by a nerdy attraction to Norway's innumerable, divergent dialects, as well as an overnight addiction to the excellent Norwegian teen drama of SKAM (possible future post to follow on this subject). And I was honestly taken aback by the surprise of what awaited me upon arrival. In my opinion, Oslo is greatly underrated in the context of the Nordic capitals, which I guess is in some ways kind of understandable when Stockholm is as beautiful and Copenhagen as fun and friendly as they are. But it's truly a shame, because Oslo is a dynamic, fun city that has all sorts of bustling and active neighborhoods, with a central square right along the shores of one of the country's iconic fjords, and the city spills out onto a myriad of picturesque islands out on the water. The way in which the city happily marries lively urban hustle and insanely beautiful scenery truly deserves to be seen (though the rumors of it's exorbitant prices are sadly quite true).



9) Tallinn, Estonia:
I can honestly say that I didn't expect to be nearly as captivated by Tallinn as I was. I'd heard from people who had been there that it's very beautiful, but I the beauty of the Old Town in particular, with it's cobbled streets, reddish towers, and light green and blue buildings truly blew me away. It looked like the miniature architectural lovechild of St. Petersburg and Stockholm, which are two of my favorite cities I've visited. And it was truly fascinating to see the different ways that Finno-Ugric/Nordic and Russophone histories intersected in the city's culture, people, and overall feeling. Being two regions that have been very important to me in personal and academic ways alike, I was delighted to see a place like Tallinn, where they came together in such elegant and beautiful ways. I only spent two days there, but I hope to go back for longer than that at some point in the future.



10) St. Petersburg, Russia:
St. Petersburg is beyond any shadow of a doubt my favorite city in Russia, and one of my favorites that I've visited in the world so far. I have a good friend from Peter (as it's affectionately or casually called in Russian for short) who I met several years before I went anywhere near studying Russian or going to Russia, and was well aware of how proud the people there are of their city. After having been there, I can say for sure that they have every right and reason to be proud. It's beautiful beyond words, filled with exquisite and ornate buildings built in old European styles with lavender, coral, and sky blue hues. The history of Imperial Russia is palpable in nearly every street corner. And comparing my time in St. Petersburg to living in Moscow, I can say that personally I felt a bit more comfortable there by comparison - people moved noticeably slower in the streets, taking more time to savor the moment and appreciate life. The whole spirit and mannerisms of interaction felt very European; people smiled more easily and were a bit more respectful in their interactions. In my time in St. Petersburg, I fell completely in love with the city, and how it elegantly combines all the best of Russian culture and history, with a distinct northern European touch.


11) Moscow, Russia:
As I've not shied away from discussing in numerous posts that I've made in the past, my time in Russia was one of the most challenging periods of my entire life. As a result, I have a very complicated relationship to my experience there, and to the city of Moscow itself, which are fraught by mixed feelings. But even in spite of all the numerous challenges I had to battle through, I found Moscow to be a truly dynamic and fascinating city, with a multifaceted past and bustling, changeable present. I made friendships during my time in Moscow that provided me with all the support I was needing to deal with my issues, allowed me to learn so much about unfamiliar parts of the world, and even explore key aspects of my own identity, which have now become some of the most important connections in my life. And I got to know so many places intimately within the city. I'll let one of my assignments from my Moscow in Transitions class sum it up better:
One of the things that I always strive towards the most by far when spending extended periods of time in a new city or country is building a relationship through a sense of regularity and routine. At the time that I submitted my first Moscow map assignment, through a desire to immediately begin exploring some of the city’s most well-known areas, as well as random objects of my own interest, I had already begun to form a certain degree of experiential knowledge, even over the course of just under two weeks. However, the greatest difference that the new version demonstrates is the regularity and routine, and how those have changed my relationship to the city.


In the Green Door anti-cafe near Chistiye Prudi, I have cried from laughter with both international and Russian friends while playing mafia and board games, strengthening my command of the language through practice rooted in laid-back and fun memories. At the Frau Brotchen cafe between RSUH and Novoslobodskaya, I have forged a friendship with the owner and a few specific members of her staff who have seen me in there nearly every day, as I stop by for a revitalizing cappucino and fluffy, heavenly tvorozhnoe kaltso in breaks between classes or to power up on my way to the metro. At Pinza Maestrello in Chistiye Prudi, I have deepened my knowledge of the cuisine of one of my own cultures, this delicious new flatbread-like take on pizza that has become quite prevalent in Italy in recent years. At Gorky Park, I have danced and laughed with friends through some of the final bright sunsets and open blue skies of the fleeting fall, and returned for some introspective snow walks alone on brighter, overcast winter days. I have come to identify Kievskaya and Belorusskaya as my favorite metro stations I have seen, admiring the beauty of their bright patterns and cultural homage to Russia’s neighbors.


On multiple occasions this year, friends coming to visit me in cities that I’m staying or living temporarily, but don’t fully call home, has made them feel more like home to me. In the first week of December, a good friend of mine who I had met on my FEG program in Iceland during the summer of 2016 came to visit me here in Moscow from Germany. It was in the week of her visit that I was able to see how much my relationship to my surroundings in this city have deepend. Though I certainly don’t have all the informations or answers, I was able to lead, direct, help, and translate for a friend who could not speak a word of Russian or recognize any Cyrillic letters, and was successfully able to ensure her a comfortable stay. Because of the inner turmoil and self-doubt that I have admittedly experienced in my time here, particularly during the tumultuous first days of adjustment following my arrival, realizing that I was able to act as a makeshift Muscovite guide and comfortably use my Russian to ask for, order, or contest the price of almost anything with no issues was incredibly empowering. Having this newfound map encompassing so many places in the city already in my mind upon her arrival, I was already able to propose itineraries day by day, keeping in mind what clusters of monuments to visit and restaurants to try were close to each other, sometimes even remembering how to get to them without having to consult the Yandex Metro app I’ve long since downloaded on my phone.

As such, I now know that whatever adversity I may have faced here, both situational and purely psychological, has been worthwhile. I’ve made roots in this city, and expanded the boundaries of my familiarity with it far beyond Korpus 4 and the RSUH campus. I feel proud of the relationship that I have succesfully been able to build with Moscow, and know that I will be able to easily return to and strengthen it at will in the future.

12) Baku, Azerbaijan:

A lot of what I described about my complicated feelings towards my time in Russia also apply in the context of my experience in Azerbaijan. Although my Critical Language Scholarship program surely provided ample support in a great many instances where it was needed and had good structures in place to do so, it was no secret that my host family switch I went through (more on that to come some time), the immense cultural differences, and the extensive communication issues I had being there to learn Turkish, which is not spoken there, made my time in Baku extremely challenging and got in the way of my enjoyment of my own experience quite a bit. But even so, despite the complicated aspects of the relationship I have to my time on CLS and to Baku as a place, I lived there for two months, and it's still special to me all the same. There are many aspects of my time there I look back on fondly: all the adventures I had with the sweet and interesting people that accompanied me on my program. Getting to know the eclectic combination of traditional Persian and Russian architecture, alongside typical Soviet and sleek modernist constructions. Getting acquainted with all the little cafes and restaurants. Long strolls along the Caspian shore. The constant linguistic flux of Azerbaijani and Russian rolling off the same tongues, and then blending together until the lines between them were completely blurred. And just the general exhilaration of being so far away from anything familiar, in a new place where I probably never would have ventured otherwise. Even in spite of the challenges, it will remain special to me.





These are the main places of importance that I wanted to add for now. In the future, as I hopefully visit and leave pieces of my heart in new places the world over, I will continue to add other places to this list.

All the best for now,
Nico

Monday, May 6, 2019

An original poem

Hey, everyone!

I honestly am at a loss for words on how to start this post.
I can barely believe how long it's been since I posted anything on here.
My senior year of college has been a rewarding, but tremendously challenging, experience, and between everything that's happened, all the things I've done, and the various day-to-day challenges I've been working through in terms of shaky mental health and planning for the future, there's a lot to catch up on.

I'm most likely going to hold off on properly catching up for a few weeks longer, until I finish classes, graduate, and make it home to rest for a few weeks. For now, I'm going to do something that I've been meaning to for a time, and share an original poem of mine on this blog.
I've been writing poetry for fun since I was a child (and getting progressively better over the years - at least I hope), and for a time I've wanted to start sharing more of them on this blog (stay tuned for more).

The one that I'll be sharing today is a poem which I've written recently, and is commemorative of a very special and emotionally powerful experience I had two years ago today. I submitted three poems to the campus lit magazine at Beloit, called Pocket Lint, a few weeks ago, including this one, and although they did select one for their spring issue, they didn't include this one, and as I'm very fond of and proud of it and would like for people to see it, I've decided to share it on here.

I hope you all like it. Be back soon!



The Art of Forgetting:
I want to forget the sound of your voice
and the sweet nothings you quietly whispered
into my naive young ears -
how earnest and well-intentioned it all seemed.
I want to forget the rush of the cool breeze of that fateful spring evening
as I walked under the towering golden clouds
on my way to meet you
with shaky hands and butterflies in my stomach
and how every breeze like it brings me back to those moments
of jittery excitement and spontaneity.
I want to forget the hypnotizing patchwork of jagged navy clouds
framing streaks of blue sky
and the lingering, periwinkle glow of twilight above us
as we walked back to my house
inching ever closer to one another.
I want to forget how gently you stroked the nimble tabby cat
who jumped into my lap
and petted her just so,
with your wrist slowly coming to rest on my leg
just to let me know it was there.
I want to forget how cozy and right it felt
to sit next to you on my bed,
and how my heart fluttered and my stomach tingled
when you asked if you could kiss me;
how happy it made me feel
simply that you wanted to.
I want to forget the words of our native languages that we taught each other
unraveling them gently
and trading them with gentle flickers of our tongues
soft to the touch.
I want to forget where you touched me -
that little fusion between thumb and hand
that you stroked so tenderly, so delicately.
I want to forget the light you brought into my room
and the warmth you brought into my bed,
how safe and careless I felt nestled between your arms
with your heartbeat against my back.
I want to forget the velvety touch of your parted lips around my own
and the soft strokes of your tongue through my giddy smile.
I want to forget how you looked at the painting of an elephant inside a snake
against a starry sky
while you held me
and asked if it was from The Little Prince -
it still hangs on the same side of my new room
and I can’t help but think of you
every time I look at it.
I want to forget
the feeling of promise
and hope that took hold in my heart
and the pain that came all too quickly
when the waves of the seas that soon stood between us
gleefully battered and smashed it to pieces.
I want to forget how I went to sit on the porch of my house under the bright sunshine
a whole half hour before you were supposed to come say goodbye,
how my heart tightened and skipped a beat with every person that walked past
even if they looked nothing like you,
and how deeply my heart sunk
when I realized you weren’t coming.
I want to forget
All the miserable hours I wasted alone
hoping trustfully
then crying pathetically
and finally shifting into holding a futile
but festering grudge.
I want to forget the pieces of my heart
That I scattered as I traveled across the world
That had traces of you written all over them.
I want to forget the silly optimism I felt
when I returned
that for once, finally, what I’d hoped for would be.
I want to forget how much it hurt
for you to make me
and everything I felt
utterly invisible.
I know you probably didn’t mean for it to hurt,
but you did hurt me
so badly
and part of me hates you for it
and part of me loves you yet
and I’m so full of anger
but also still miss you
and it confuses me so much.
I wish I could say I haven’t thought of you every single day
since that night
but I’d be lying.
In the end
no matter how much it still may hurt
I’m not sure I can ever manage
to forget something as beautiful

as the evening I met you.





Tuesday, October 2, 2018

Advice for people thinking of visiting Iceland as tourists

Hey guys!

Today I wanted to share another quick piece of Iceland-related content with you all, in the form of some suggestions for prospective tourists which I originally posted on my Facebook account close to the end of my stay there in July.

Though the trends are starting to taper off a bit numerically, Iceland has experienced a giant surge in tourism over the past two or three years, which has had a tremendous amount of consequences and influences, both good and bad, on the Icelandic economy, society, and infrastructure.

These tips I'll be sharing with you guys today were largely inspired by The Little Book of the Tourists in Iceland, by one of my favorite Icelandic writers, Alda Sigmundsdottir, who writes excellent and witty books about Icelandic history, culture, and politics. I in no way claim to know, understand, or represent the opinions of all Icelanders; by sharing these tips I simply hope to impart some knowledge of issues that are at the forefront of local consciousness nowadays, and make your visit more pleasant, informed, and enjoyable should you choose to go. Iceland is a unique and beautiful place which absolutely deserves to be seen, but here are some solid tips from Alda's writing to be aware of beforehand.

1) Although tap water may smell a bit sulphuric due to its geothermal origin, there is literally 0 need to buy bottled water in Iceland. None. Tap water comes from glacial sources and geothermal pools, and is just as safe, if not better, than bottled water. Indeed, there have even been cases where tourists have been scammed by people selling bottles of water that have actually just been filled up at the tap. Bring a reusable water bottle and fill it up at the tap as you go.

2) Don't throw coins into springs, waterfalls, natural pools, springs, and the like. They're not mall fountains. I hoped this wouldn't be the case, but unfortunately many of the tourist-filled natural sights sported many coins that had been dropped to the bottom of the clear water.

3) Be respectful of the environment. Iceland has beautiful and incredibly delicate ecosystems, so make sure to take nothing but photos and leave nothing but footprints, and abide by signs indicating areas that are off limits to keep damage to a minimum. The country is very sparsely populated, so don't assume that just because there isn't a sign, a place is automatically safe.

4) Don't go out into isolated areas, onto clifftops or glaciers or the like without an experienced and certified guide. There have been many cases of tourists getting trapped inside glacial crevasses or other dangerous places, putting a strain on an already understaffed, underpayed, and overworked emergency response service.

5) Learn a little Icelandic. Yes, most Icelanders can speak very good English, especially those working in tourist areas. But a little takk fyrir (thank you) here and bless bless (bye bye) there will help you connect more with locals and show greater appreciation.

6) Contrary to what sensationalist media would have you believe, Icelanders are not, in fact, all kooky eccentrics that believe in elves and trolls. Sure, they constitute an integral part of the country's folklore and traditional culture. But most people do not believe in them today.

7) Icelandic swimming pools are lovely places, and a sort of community center for catching up and hanging out, the Turkish coffeehouse or Finnish sauna of the situation. Yes, you have to shower completely naked before you go in. It's the rules. Most pools in Iceland are not chlorinated, just fresh geothermal water, and people are trusted to wash themselves properly before going in to keep the water clean. It's really no big deal; people are used to doing so their whole lives, so it's a really low-key, non-judgemental environment that you have no need to feel self-conscious in.

8) BRING LAYERS. A common Icelandic saying states "there's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes," and as a place where the weather can be so erratic and changeable, smart layering can make all the difference between comfort and freezing.

9) When exploring undeveloped tracks of the countryside where restroom opportunities may be limited to the great outdoors, make like you would on a camping trip and dispose of any waste properly.

This is not meant to be an exhaustive or comprehensive list, just a set of important issues to keep in mind to make an Icelandic sojourn more pleasant. I hope that these can be of help to anyone. Anyone interested in further planning or advice on experiences in Iceland or where to go is always welcome to contact me.

Best wishes,
Nico



Monday, September 24, 2018

(Fleiri) hlutir sem ég hef tekið eftir um Íslandi - (More) things I've noticed about Iceland

Hey guys!

So in continuing my little series about July in Iceland this past year, today I'm going to be making my first ever addendum to the "things I've noticed" series about a country I've already written about. There are a few more elements of Icelandic culture and history that caught my eye while I was there last summer that I wanted to share really quickly. Hope it's interesting and enjoyable!

1) Just how important swimming pools are in Icelandic culture.
This was definitely something which had been mentioned multiple times during my first Icelandic program in 2016, but I didn't quite get the extent of it until this past summer. Sofia and I were living less than two minutes on foot away from Sundhöllin, one of the main swimming pools in the city, and we also payed a visit on one occasion to the lovely Vesturbæjarlaug over on the other side of town. But Sundhöllin became a true staple of our experience, a place that we'd go up to four or five times a week at points, to relax, blow off some steam, take our minds off of things, hang out with friends, or just chat. And that's very much how swimming pools are in Iceland.
Even the tiniest of far-flung, windswept fishing villages will proudly sport a swimming pool, and they are important community meeting points across the country, the Turkish hamam, Finnish sauna, or Chinese tea houses of the situation. Retirees catch up on the latest gossip while they swim laps early in the morning; children energetically make use of the diving boards and slides in their first hours off of school; families make weekend afternoons together out of it.
Most Icelandic swimming pools consist of hot pots (usually around 38-40 Celsius/100-107 Fahrenheit), cold pots (around 12 Celsius/53 Fahrenheit), and the main swimming pool itself (around 26 Celsius/80 Fahrenheit), with the idea that patrons will move between the different temperature extremes and benefit from the related circulatory aid, much like in Finnish saunas. It's truly refreshing and can even leave one feeling pretty tired afterwards!
Also, let me take a moment here to say that the rumors are true - you have to shower naked at the pool before you go in. The water all comes from natural geothermal or glacial sources, and it is treated with extremely limited chemicals, so it is trusted that everyone will do their part in turn to keep the water clean - which is to say, thoroughly clean themselves. I know for some people this can be super nerve-wracking, but rest assured that the showers in Icelandic swimming pools are extremely non-judgemental and relaxed places. One of the benefits of this is that Icelanders grow up very comfortable with their own and each other's bodies, and discomfort in these environments is nearly non-existent.

2) Iceland and Finland have many parallels in their historical control by mainland Nordic powers, but it has resulted in two very different contemporary linguistic situations. 
For context, Iceland and Finland were ruled over by the monarchies of Denmark and Sweden respectively for periods of several hundred years, which was hugely influential in their development, and their ties to the rest of the Nordic world. Whether or not these periods of control could be considered colonialism is a subject of much debate in Iceland and Finland alike, including among Icelanders and Finns themselves. But suffice it to say that these periods were important.
However, in contemporary Finland about 5% of the population, particularly on the southern and western coasts, continues to speak a unique Finnish-influenced dialect of Swedish as their native language, which enjoys equal official status and state protection as the Finnish language. In Iceland, though a more pan-Scandinavian influenced version of Danish was a required subject in schools until recent decades, no significant portion of Icelanders use Danish amongst themselves or as a native language anymore.
I thought of several reasons that could have contributed to this: for one, the simple matter of population. Finland's population has never been huge, it's only about five million today. But Iceland's contemporary peak population is about 350,000. With numbers that (relatively) low, which have historically been even lower, it's simply difficult to maintain a minority population with a distinctive identity, using a different language than the main one.
Another is geographical isolation and logistics. Finland is much closer to Sweden, particularly the areas that retain high numbers of Swedish speakers today, and so creating cohesive transportation and trade routes and spheres of influences from Stockholm was much easier, compared to the thousand or so miles (2,000 or so kilometers) which separate Iceland from mainland Europe, especially with the duration of transportation during those days. So laying down comparably solid influence was difficult.
Then, Iceland has had a tremendously rich and strong literary tradition throughout its history - even while the vast majority of Icelanders lived in poverty for many centuries working in nearly squalid conditions on turf farms across the country, people were educated to be literate, so that they could read epic poems and sagas aloud to their families while they worked, particularly during the kvöldvaka (evening-wake) during the long winters. This literary history and inadvertent country-wide standardization of the language gave it a uniform legitimacy. In Finland, in contrast, Finnish remained a spoken language only until the 14th century, when Protestant monk Mikael Agricola published a Finnish translation of the New Testament of the Bible, and was not standardized until the nationalist Fennoman movement became prevalent during Russian control in the 1800s.
And finally, Icelanders have historically been distrustful of the higher classes, and sought to make themselves as distinct from the upper echelons of society as possible. Not to say that Finns historically were more differential, but the aristocratic caste system was something which was more entrenched, enforced, and therefore accepted. So it stands to reason that Danish, which was largely used by and associated with the higher classes and colonial administration in Iceland, would be largely shaken off and often resented in the years following independence (it is important to note, however, that not all Icelanders hate Denmark by any means; in fact many continue to study Danish in school even without being forced, as many jobs require proficiency in a mainland Nordic language, and large numbers of Icelanders live and study in Denmark, particularly in Copenhagen).

That's all I could think of for now. I will add anything else that comes to mind.

Best wishes and good vibes to all!
Nico










Friday, September 21, 2018

The fulfillment of another Nordic dream: Iceland July 2018

Hey guys!

So as I've mentioned a bit in recent posts, I had the privilege and honor to be able to return to Iceland for a month this summer, which will be the focus of this post.

I returned to the U.S. from Finland on May 31 after nearly nine months abroad, and spent a much-needed month doing nothing at home with my family (more to follow on that soon potentially). As needed as the month of down-time was, by the time I'd been home for a month with next to nothing to do, I was feeling pretty antsy and restless, in need of a bit of direction and adventure - feeling quite ready to head to Reykjavik.

I arrived on the morning of July 1, and after two years of absence from one of my favorite countries, which was host to such a beautiful formative experience, I can't accurately explain in words how it felt to break through the clouds, see the green of the Reykjanes Peninsula jut through our view of the North Atlantic, and touch down.
My dear, dear friend Sofia from Bologna, who I met on our first Icelandic program in the Westfjords two years ago, had also gotten into the Árni Magnússon Institute's summer program, and so a dream of many years was made even better. We got to room together in a beautiful, cozy, perfectly-sized little apartment on Leifsgata behind Hallgrímskirkja, and walked together to class every morning about twenty minutes away at the Institute, located on the main campus of the University of Iceland.
On our first day we were sorted into three different levels based on our Icelandic language backgrounds; since Sofia and I had both completed the A1/A2 level program in the Westfjords, we got to sit in the third and most advanced level, spending a month studying Icelandic with people from Switzerland, the UK, the Isle of Man specifically, Ireland, the U.S, Brazil, and Germany, which was a fantastic group that made for thought-provoking and stimulating conversation, in Icelandic, English, or whatever else. As fate would have it, our teacher was actually one of the teachers from my program two years ago (though not the one that had taught my own class)!

Recognizing that being immersed in Icelandic can be somewhat difficult in a place like Reykjavik, which sees so much tourism (particularly in the high summer) that the center of town can get rather flooded with English, every possible measure was taken to ensure that we'd have as immersive an environment as possible in the classroom, and with great success. I didn't realize how much progress I was truly making until the end, when I realized just how many new things I was able to say. A particular moment of triumph was meeting my friend Unnur, an Icelander who my dear friend Salma met at a European Youth Parliament event in Vienna a few years ago and put me in touch with. We got coffee together at a delightful little place called Stofan, and started out speaking Icelandic almost jokingly...and then spent almost two whole hours speaking Icelandic, in which I only had to resort to English a few times and made few grammatical mistakes! Aside from being a way to finally meet up with a great human, it was also a pivotal and defining moment in my Icelandic learning experience, when I found new confidence in my own abilities and felt unspeakably proud of the progress I'd made.

Overall I was immensely satisfied with the organization of the program and how everything was set up. We had a couple of excursions outside of the Reykjavik area, day trips which took us mostly to saga sites in the countryside, where we heard all about these tales of strife and conflict which are so important to Icelandic literature and culture. Dramatically beautiful natural spaces are never too far away in Iceland, and as compact and comfortable as Reykjavik is as an urban area, it was still wonderful to escape into the lava fields and flowering cliffs that make the country so unique and beautiful.

We also enjoyed a number of academic lectures at the Institute itself, by far my favorite was a private lecture with Jónína Leósdóttir, a prominent Icelandic writer and playright, wife to Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir, the first Icelandic female prime minister and the first openly lesbian head of state in the world. Jónína's literary work is well-known and very important, as much of it centers around coming-of-age stories for LGBT protagonists that have been unprecedented among Icelandic literature. But it was most incredible of all to hear her talk so openly and candidly of coming to terms with her identity in the early '80s in Iceland, having to hide the relationship that developed between her and Jóhanna for FIFTEEN years, and the euphoria of coming out and being eventually accepted by her family, buying a flat with Jóhanna, and eventually tying the knot as Iceland legalized same-sex marriage in 2010. Even though only Jónína was present, their love was so strong and perceptible to every person in the room, just by virtue of the way that she told their stories, and talked about her wife.
It's stories of queer perserverance, triumph, and representation like Jónína and Jóhanna's that provide so much hope, inspiration, and solidarity for the future, and showcase the beauty and bond of what it means to be part of the queer community.

Overall I did my best to make this a trip of establishing rhythms and routines in the city, fully immersing myself in to the experience. Although I didn't stay in Reykjavik for the actual program that I did my first time in Iceland, I was there for four days at the beginning and another at the end, so I still did most of the staple touristy things and got to know the city quite well. I went for long walks in different parts of the city that I didn't know. I tried different coffee shops when my wallet would allow, trying to find ones that were a bit off the beaten path tourist-wise. I went to the pool with Sofia nearly every day, as there was one less than two minutes away from our apartment on foot called Sundhöllin, and we also visited several others with program friends. Given the relationship that I have with Iceland, and the comfort that I feel in the place and its general atmosphere, that month was, in many ways, just as, if not even more restorative than the month that I spent with my parents in St. Louis prior.

Leaving Iceland is never easy, especially when it was such a calm and wonderful experience as this one. I miss it very much, but am hard at work on a Fulbright application which will hopefully allow me to go back and study Icelandic at the University of Iceland for at least a year if I get selected. Ég vona að þetta reddast.

Thank you all for reading, and stay tuned for more about Iceland soon.

Best, Nico