When I realised that I began my series on Sweden about 11 months ago, I thought that I’d have a few posts to write, and did not imagine it to grow to so many. These stories have been the culmination of memories from photos, hastily scribbled or typed notes and from questions I asked my friends. It’s quite humbling to know that folks indulged my questions and enjoyed their little trips down memory lane with these write ups. Or as SJ says, “fan fic about her own life”.
I haven’t written in a while and part of that was because I think I have pretty much exhausted all the highlights of that semester. Anything else that happened was either too regular or must stay strictly anecdotal. That said, on popular demand (fine, just the one person — SK), here’s a valedictory post.
Turning in our keys
One of the things with living with Heimstaden — one of Sweden’s biggest landowning companies, and probably most hated too — was that at the end of the term, while returning the flat we’d have to submit it for an inspection and apparently students in the past have been fined for living it in a poor state. Now I wasn’t sure what exactly their standards for a poor state were, but you could bet your bottom kroner that I was not going to let some evil landowning megalith take away my hard earned stipend monies, no sir.
The day after I was done with my final exam and papers, I woke early in the day and after getting my breakfast, picked up a host of cleaning agents from the kitchen. I turned up the heater to full, got into my shorts and rolled up my sleeves. And then I scrubbed. And scrubbed. And scrubbed. I spent three hours going over every nook and cranny making sure that there were no stains, no marks, no stray dents anywhere. Was in the same state I found it in? Hells no. I left it even nicer. You coulda seen your face on the floor. I made sure everything was sparkling for the inspector the next day. The chap came round at the appointed hour, clipboard in hand and looking all important. I stood through the inspection, half smug and half proud like a parent at a science fair whose name isn’t on the project but was the one who’d actually made it.
The inspection last all of 10 minutes and the chap left a hastily filled form on the table and said, “Okej, tack.” I made a most incredulous face looking at the sheet and said, “That’s it? You’re done?” “Ja.” “Huh. Okay.” That was it. HE DIDN’T LOOK AT ALL THE CORNERS. That was disappointing but well, I got my deposit back in full.
Due to whatever weird scheduling I’d done, I was due to fly out a few days after the keys were to be returned. I was very gratefully using a corridor mate’s room (thanks R!) where I lived out of my suitcase for 5 days. As I went to drop my keys in the rental office box, I was reminded of the rainy day in August when I couldn’t find the office and this kind mum saw a confused me and pointed out where it was. I was obviously sad to be leaving 939, but I suppose this was an eventuality that I’d seen coming anyway.
Sverige slut
That means Sweden over, in very poorly translated Swedish. A thing I like doing towards the end of any long stay or even phase in life is to redo all the things I had done at the start and come round to understand how they are different from now; or perhaps more appropriately, how different I was from earlier. In the week leading to my departure, I went about the city doing things, some of which I’d just not got around to doing before, and the rest just to soak it all in one last time.
The museum
The oldest building of Uppsala University was converted into a museum that housed not only articles from the university’s history, but also general old history stuff. I remember there was an exhibition hall that carried a large collection of Egyptian artifacts. I spent a neat three hours in there. I don’t know about you, but I’m the kind of museum visitor who reads every plaque and peers as far into the acrylic box as is possible before the guards come round with a baton. Not everyone’s style, but I was very pleased to be with a kindred spirit who spent that amount of time or maybe more doing the exact same. The sad bit was that it was just the two of us.
I used the little time I had leftover to hop to some of the other exhibits including my favourite, the anatomy hall, where I obviously did some roleplay of explaining the vagaries of the human body to my assembled class of physicians, all nodding and making diagrams. That was fun. I did actually end up not being able to see other halls and thought I would another day. The ‘other day’ that I went back happened to be their weekly off and of course it was too late. Gotta leave something for the next time, I suppose.
The backlanes of Flogsta
Our accommodation was nestled in some weird mix of forest and habitation, as I’ve written before, and this led to unbounded fascination in me. I had never grown up in a non-urban setting and seeing this level of nature this easily accessible to me was just mind boggling. Very often through my stay I’d walk through those lanes with music in my ears just enjoying the sights and sounds of the forests. I’d often cycle about too, just to see how normal people lived and what they did.
In our final week, SJ and I, sometimes accompanied by others, would take a nightly post dinner walk through these forested areas. Sure, this wasn’t any form of exercise that our bodies desperately needed, but it was a rather nice way to spend some time with the outdoors that we would not get when back home. And snow. Great way to walk about and play in snow — which also I would not get when back home. Ugh.
ICA Väst
I’ve written extensively about my love for ICA Väst and how it kept me (very) well fed throughout the semester with its unbelievable deals and almost free, not spoilt yet food. There was no way that I’d leave without this pilgrimage. It was time that I’d actually not much to buy because we’d cleared out our fridge and pantry, so I hadn’t much to buy really aside from some bits and bobs for the flight back home. Nonetheless, walking through those aisles, remembering the poor translations I used to buy random things and seeing the same smiling cashiers serving us was a treat. I remember having gone there in the early afternoon and as I climbed the hill back towards building 9, I saw, in a very poetic way, the sun set over this bastion of nutrition.
Uppsala Domkyrka
There’s not part of Uppsala that doesn’t provide a clear view of the steeples of the cathedral. Those tall structures looming over the entire city, form a central part of life in the city. For a perpetually spatially challenged me, they served as a north star, allowing me to orient with them when I’d get lost.
As I took my final city tour, I cycled down the familiar paved road and parked my cycle in a small stand off to the side. Standing in the shadow of the 118.7m tall steeples is a humbling experience. Sure, we’ve stood in the shadows of buildings many times taller, but these towers are special. These towers have been there from 1258 CE standing tall and silent with their watchful eyes guarding the city and remain unfazed even after having seen kingdom after kingdom established, ruler after ruler being crowned, generation after generation of families worshiping there, inculcating the sense of being a tiny speck of dust in the history of the world, with so many having come before you and so many to come after.
After getting my fill of the outer courtyard, I walked into the familiar silence of the main hall, talking in the calm and comfort I’d grown to like so much. The cathedral had become a substitute temple for me to come down and pray when I missed home and was as sacred to me as it was to the people of the city. I perambulated the nave and sat at one of the pews, listening to the low babble of tourists and the devout, soaking in the energy and feeling grateful to have been a part of it. As I left the building, I lit two candles for friends and family and made some promises to myself before the almighty. I walked out with a feeling of bliss and a full heart.
The people
No part of my end rituals would be complete without time with the lovely people that made my stay comfortable, wonderful and memorable. I made plans with all the folks who took time to welcome me into their lives. We had fika, drinks, dinners and walks reminiscing the short time there. On the night before I was to fly out, I went round to the doors of each of my neighbours giving (and getting) a warm hug before promising to meet again shortly.
Without a doubt, the semester I spent in Uppsala is like top 3 best phases of my life. I’ve written enough and more words here, bored many pairs of ears and talked my tongue off speaking praises of the time, the people, the food and experiences that I had in the short time that I spent in this beautiful country. I’d go back in a heartbeat if I could. I still have Uppsala time on my time and weather apps on my phone, periodically checking what its like there and what I would’ve been doing at that time of the year. Every now and then I drop by google maps at the places I hung out at and see the latest reviews, reaffirming that students are having just as much of a blast as I had. Sometimes I’ll even go through street view and just…look at those places. Is it strange? Sure. But it helps me relive a spectacular part of my life and I’ll take what I get.
Of course there’s a Sweden-shaped hole in my heart, but the good part is that it is filled with memories, stories, experiences and people who have shared their love and lives with me giving me a piece of their own country and selves. To me, Sweden became and will remain a second home, always.
Sverige, jag kommer tillbaka.
[Yes, I am open to book deals on this series. You can contact me on my email ID ^-^]
