The Soviet Prison - (1)

Back in November, we had been graciously given a generously long break before mid-term exams in order to study and prepare. What do Erasmus student typically do with such a void in the study schedule? – Plan a trip to Tallinn and Helsinki of course! Amongst the usual shenanigans one might expect from a trip to a country with ridiculously low alcohol prices, Estonia and Tallinn bestowed upon us a cultural experience like no other!

Taylor and I high above the old town

After awaking late on a Saturday morning, blurry eyed, groggy and certainly feeling the weight of the night before, Taylor and I discussed over breakfast what we should do with our day. We felt that the activity had to be enriching, non-touristic, a “true” taste of Tallinn and something that you could go home and happily tell your Grandma about. Unsure where, who or how we had heard this, we were both aware of an old abandoned Soviet prison towards the outskirts of the city that was supposedly open to visitors. (Thinking now – the knowledge was probably remnants of a drunken conversation from the night before. A reliable source by any means.)

The tram system of Tallinn is as old as God's dog

We walked for 30 minutes or so (closely following the path plotted for us by Google), the further from the city we walked, the further backwards in time we seemed to plunge. Countless abandoned homes and warehouses, cars from the 60’s and 70’s that had probably not moved in decades, stray cats and dogs commonplace. Though dispersed throughout this time-warp were luxury homes and apartments, newly built and fronted by shiny new cars. It was bizarre and there was an ambient uneasiness to the neighbourhood.

Once “Arriving at our destination” we looked around intently and then back at each other with the same confused face. We were surrounded by abandoned warehouses on dirt roads and the only signs of life were two shifty looking fella’s down a funnelled driveway that only screamed “steer clear”. No warming welcome sign. No friendly attraction workers. No gift shop. We scoured the immediate area for any one of these symbols of tourism but after finding none, decided our only option was to ask the dubious loiterers.

As we approached, I promptly realised the purpose of the funnelled driveway. Guard towers topping high concrete walls, barred windows of the buildings behind and the large open Iron doorway ahead signified we had found the prison. More worryingly, I was intrigued as to what the two men were actually doing here. Their actions looked like they were practising drawing a revolver from a holster, like you do when you’re 5 years old and have just discovered western movies, before finally accepting that that was exactly what they were doing.

I have been around firearms numerous times before. My experiences with air cadets and having a best friend who competitively shot for a club team left me no stranger to weapons and would go so far as to say I am comfortable around them. However, in this moment, I realised that every experience I had had before was in a controlled environment – a shooting range with strict rules and regulations and never “out and about” in society, especially not being wielded by the most communist looking men I had ever seen. Their “private security” uniforms offered no comfort and I tentatively whispered to Taylor “They have guns” – “I know” was his hushed response.

We stopped about 10 meters away and looked for eye contact in an attempt to initiate conversation. The two men were enthralled in their weapons and continued swiftly drawing their pistols from various angles and positions before pretending to gun down their imaginary foe. After the longest awkward minute of our lives, standing there like two touristic lemons, the more senior of the two acknowledged us, handed his pistol to his friend and they both turned and faced us. I opened with “do you speak English?”

Whilst chatting to the chap, I was acutely aware that the friend behind had his pistol held loosely in his hand, not at all with anger or intent, yet directed directly towards poor Taylor. The man explained to us how he worked there as “security” and that the Prison was in fact closed for the winter. Apparently it was open for a couple of months in the summer if you had an arranged tour guide to chaperone you. At this point I was almost relieved as it gave us an excuse to get the heck out of there – but a look of disappointment must have drifted across our faces as the silence was broken by the guard insisting that “I could let you in… for 10 euros each…”

When a man has a gun pointed at you, in front of a large abandoned communist prison (that was apparently closed for the winter and was impossible to enter) and you are being proposed with a legally questionable opportunity for a more than reasonable price – many things run through your mind. Hesitantly, but not wanting to extend the awkward silences any longer than necessary, I agreed to the offer and produced a 20 euro note from my pocket. The guard hastily snatched it away before bombarding us with a flurry of directions and hand signals, left, right, up the stairs, in this door, through there… Before being all but jostled through the large iron door – the excitement and confusion halted only by the ominous boom of metal on metal. The large iron door was now shut.

Out of the hole

The last month or so has been somewhat of a whirlwind. A backlog of assignment and deadlines that had to be met, before travelling to Finland and Estonia, followed closely by several exams, cumulated in my plate has being pretty full (and showers not necessarily taken daily). Nevertheless, I had a life before hand – these are the tails from then!

Tyresta

Having explored much of the city for several weeks, a couple of us had begun to develop the very first inklings of ‘inner city monotony’. The repetitive days and endless homework’s had begun to take their toll on these unhardened ‘country’ lads.  A decision was made to go somewhere, anywhere that wasn't Stockholm.

Smaller lake in Tyresta

Tyresta national park is situated about an hour south of the city and three of us made the one hour bus journey to escape the bright lights, if only for a couple of hours. On arrival, we planned a route and target, a large lake with small islands about 7km into the forest, and departed – true 21^st century pioneers – smartphones in hand.

Although no moose’s were spotted, the scenery was stunning; miniature inland lakes, moss covered rocky faces and tall pines were abundant. Even the large area affected by the 1999 fire (center below) we had to cross had an intrigue of its own; as we had to clamber over and under the scorched remains.

Atop a shear rock face looking out to a lake, we stopped for lunch. Taylor was recounting tails of the Red River gorge in Kentucky when he was unwittingly belaboured with a discarded apple. I had attempted to launch it into the lake, but failed dramatically as my grip slipped and the forsaken fruit careered into his face; even though he was sat behind me.

View from the pick-nick/assault

The hike came to an abrupt end when we luckily decided to check the time of the last bus home. 40 minutes to cover the 7km back to the bus stop, else face a night alone in the woods with a long walk home! Thankfully we made it, somewhat breathless but with 3 minutes to spare.

I Moustache you a question

At the time of writing, Movember is in full swing and my furry friend is delighted at the fact he gets a mention. The several weeks’ growth is proving fruitful and I am just about acclimatised to the looks of dubious confusion or rye smiles that great me daily.

The official Movember Sweden launch party, however, took place in October and a few friends and I secured places on the guest list. A chance to meet fellow Mobro’s and Mosista’s, discuss issues of men’s health and fund raising ideas, was fuelled by an unlimited supply of alcohol and accompanied by several Swedish young ladies we had befriended. The night was a good laugh to break up the study week and we hope to throw our own Farsta Movember party later in the month.

Photo Courtesy of Movember Sweden

Plug alert - To learn more about my Movember efforts and motivation for participating, please visit my mospace - http://mobro.co/samwellnorton

http://mobro.co/samwellnorton

Djurgården!!!

Ice hockey is big in Sweden and seen as the Pittsburgh Penguins aren’t too local, I have become an avid fan of Stockholm’s most successful team Djurgården (DIF). I caught my first live game with friends before the exam period, in which DIF triumphed in a nail biter over rivals MODO hockey.

The atmosphere is similar to a football match in the UK. With chants and songs being sung all game long and fans proudly sporting team scarfs and flags. I was particularly roused by the Swedish rendition of “Hej Jude” – though I’m sure the lyrics may have been somewhat more expletive and derogatory to the opposition. Every time Djurgården scored, the crowd joined voice in some variant of “Jingle Bells”, to the delight of us non Swedish speakers as we could participate in shouting the final “HEY!”

Excitement builds as we already have tickets to another game this coming Saturday and we are slowly building our Farsta fan base as more and more people join us with each game.

Taking a Flight – 2/2 Peregrination

 Firstly, apologies for the lack of blog post last week and potential future delays. My course has well and truly started and to paraphrase Leonard – ‘the waste material is contacting the spinning turbine’. Even less fun when designing said turbine.

Alas, the earth keeps turning and the academic year is beginning to roll by. The carnival of ‘fresher’s’ week has ‘somewhat’ subsided and I am finally getting a taste of what it is like to live as a city commuter in Sweden.

Far – Further – Farsta

The title nickname for where I live in Stockholm is not without reason. Located to the far south of the city, the roughly one hour commute door to door for lectures nullifies any chance of pyjamas in class – or as I once saw – the whole duvet and pillow. 6 am reveilles are commonplace throughout the dorm in order to transit in time for the dreaded 8 am lecture!

The town of Farsta is self-sustaining and provides more than the basic weekly amenities. Such excitements as H&M and the Swedish version of JJB sports to throw a little spice amongst the weekly shop from LIDL and the essential stop at ‘Systembolaget’.

Systembolaget being the government controlled alcohol retailer throughout Sweden and the only place you can buy a hard beverage above 3.5% alc content. Closing at 7 pm through the week, 3 pm on Saturday and closed all day Sunday, it means that any impromptu partying needs a little more planning.

It’s my Birthday…

 …or rather – it was. The 3^rd of September is one of the most inconvenient times to have a birthday. (Disclaimer – rant ahead – please consider skipping the next two paragraphs)

Superman - Courtesy of Pradeep Kumar Srinivasan 

Consider the old high school celebrations in the UK… One would arrive at school wearing a large palpable badge pinned proudly to ones bosom, before taking a seat in registration, commencing the building of the greetings card fort. The lucky birthday boy or girl would pass through his/her school day collecting cards from friends and adding them to the birthday battlements surrounding ones study space for the day. A greetings card fort that would develop throughout the course of the day. Such festivities would usually be crowned with a large party to which you had invited many friends you had made through that year at school. Word had gotten around and other friends were pestering you for invites too...

Question – do you know how many times the 3^rd of September is the first day of school in the UK – Answer – a lot! And do you realise how inappropriate such lovely outlandish celebrations are on said first day, not to mention the natural excitement of the first day back to detract from your birthday aura. Other conflicts of my Birthday include it being situated in a University holiday – meaning the crazed university party’s seldom occurred – Similarly I started my first day of work at Delcam on my birthday. You get the point.

Party Pooper - Pradeep Kumar Srinivasan

This year I was nervous of a similar situation defined above. A new country with new people who had no reason to celebrate with me. Instead, it was seemingly a great excuse to throw the first Farsta party. A birthday celebration that was also useful in letting many people mingle and meet for the first time.

The open lobby to the dorms was decorated with balloons and banners; Cake, quiche and other party foods filled a table. Lighting was adjusted and music was mastered by our own resident Italian DJ. I shared the event with two other awesome chaps who were also grateful for the birthday consideration.

Birthday Boys - Pradeep Kumar Srinivasan

When living next to a large forested lake – how else is such a party supposed to end? The 3 birthday boys and some of the other party hard-cores braved the icy waters, scantily clad. It was the fitting end to a great party.

The Lake

The above mentioned ‘lake’ is Farsta’s crowning feature. The town and location are plainly normal, but this is special. Barbecues by the beach, hiking, running, cycling, swimming and even ice skating in the winter. It provides a rich diverse lifestyle only 30 minutes from central Stockholm.

Trail Picture (left)- courtesy of Sushant Madaan

I am regularly found running along the hundreds of kilometres of track that spider web through the forests and along the water’s edge. You can easily run for 10 km of so and not even be half way around the lake. It’s easy to go out walking or cycling for hours and completely lose yourself.

A short hike away is a secluded spot with a small island just off shore that makes a great target to swim to. A couple of friends and I made the trip last weekend to break up the seemingly relentless studying. The surface water was so warm and inviting in the afternoon sun but after jumping in – we quickly realised that this was not representative of the whole lake and that about a foot under the surface the temperature was considerably colder. Nevertheless, we made it to the island. Even Kumar.

Sunset - courtesy of Maria Gaci

A view of the lake greats me every morning from my window and I smile to the thought of – ‘I live here’.

Taking a Flight – 1/2 Excursion

I have flown in various different aircraft on many occasions for both work and leisure. Each time gives me the same sense of excitement as the first and is the real reason behind why I do what I do. However – boarding a flight without a set return date changes the game! It raises the bar! A whole new level of excitement and wonderment that sets your mind racing and your heart beating.

Gamla Stan Island in the Sun

Romanticism aside – these feelings are quickly quenched within about 30 minutes of take off when you realise that the in-flight entertainment is limited to what can be rummaged from the seat back pocket in front of you. That same pocket with failing elastic that insists on invading your already limited legroom because you are slightly above average height. I vow to change such atrocities when I am king of all aeroplanes.

Rant over – I was excited to be spending a couple days in Stockholm with Papa Norton, and the prospect of habitation thereafter.

Excursion

I had invited my dad to come with me to Stockholm for my arrival weekend for a couple of reasons. Firstly, he would be able to carry the second case of luggage needed to provide me with an ample selection of footwear for the semester. Secondly, I needed a travel companion to endure the pleasures of being a tourist for a couple of days – and perhaps more importantly, foot the bill.

‘The Bishops Arms’ (shown above) was not what I had expected as our primary choice of eatery to kick off the Scandinavian adventure. An English style pub in the heart of Stockholm they offered an extensive selection of beers and single malts that would rival any Covent Garden competition. A hearty burger and several exotic beverages later my stomach was happy, even if I did feel an underlying drone of cheating on Sweden.

The next couple of days surely made up for this early discretion. Hours of city exploration, visiting exhibits and many “fikas” charged our agenda. The historic old town (the pictures you find when you type “Stockholm” into Google images) contains many café’s, squares, boutiques and bars framed in a network of cobbled streets and painted façades. Perhaps less typically, Stockholm seems to be filled with what can only be described as second hand junk stores that are full to the brim of old soviet war memorabilia, 17^th century pistols, endless furniture and even the odd euphonium. Such stores are to be approached cautiously as the risk of never escaping is very real.

Other highlights included the Vasa Museum – An exhibit displaying a 17^th century gunship that sadly sank on its maiden voyage from Stockholm harbour. The upshot is that it was fantastically preserved through time and in 1961, 95% of the original ship was salvaged from the harbour floor to be restored and displayed. The exhibit its self is far more than just the ship. We spent about 2 hours there nerding out about life on the ship, learning why it sank and perusing the abandoned belongings of its 450 strong crew.

Similarly, the City Hall is exquisite. Taking the tour and learning about its history and modern goings on was very interesting, though I think my dad may be quite jealous as I was able to return there one week later for the official welcome reception to KTH (shown above-middle).

The weekend was long and tiresome through copious exploration and drinking but I certainly enjoyed it. It helped me find my bearings for the city and begin to come accustomed to the culture, currency and language I had rapidly become immersed in. I hope that Papa Norton enjoyed his holiday and can only hope that as I look forward to my studies, I remember what an awesome place lies just outside the door.

Sunset over Stockholm

Acceptance and Preparation

In early March 2014 I had become sick to the teeth of contemplating the daunting question “what to do with the rest of my life?” Coming to the end of a four year degree course, it seemed as if every one of my friends had secured funding for postgraduate studies, been given multiple job offers or even taking the bold move of going travelling indefinitely. I felt like a man without a plan – An engineer with no idea. Finally, after seemingly endless hours perfecting application after application, I received an email on the 6^th of the month from the Royal Institute of Technology in Stockholm… Acceptance!

Elated with the news I quickly phoned my family and closest friends to exclaim. It felt like a great pressure had been lifted. No longer would I have to respond to the queries regarding my existence with “I don’t know” or “things are in the pipeline”, I had an answer – I was going to study the cool things that I love and move to Sweden!...

So wrapped up in the excitement of the relieving pressure, I don’t think I realised the life changing notion that I would be moving to a completely alien country for such an extended amount of time.

As the term rolled by and dissertation deadlines loomed, thoughts of Sweden, KTH and THRUST (my course) were pushed to the back of my mind in place of the more pressing academic issues. Upon completion of my last exam and handing in of the final coursework, thoughts turned to Summer Ball, Graduation and the friends that I would be leaving.

Summer Ball at "Poison house"

Only after the 6 hour drive back from uni – the unpacking of my things to integrate back into the family home – and the catching up on all of the television I had missed throughout the summers festivities – did my thoughts finally turn towards the practical aspects of moving my life across borders… I had better buy some flights!

Language

One of the first thoughts when contemplating external relocation must be towards local language differences and the barriers that could come along with it. To be honest it wasn't my primary concern as I had completed my applications in English, the course is to be taught in English and some rudimentary Google rummaging suggested that 86% of Sweden’s population were able to hold a conversation in English! (Excluding native speaking countries, this is the joint second largest demographic after the Netherlands – You would also expect this to be boosted in a large multicultural city like Stockholm).

http://jakubmarian.com/map-of-the-percentage-of-people-speaking-english-in-the-eu-by-country/

Never the less – If I am going to meet Miss Sweden and make her my wife – I imagine the basics of “Hej” and “Vad heter du?” might be a necessity. I might also share with her some of my favourite Swedish words I have encountered thus far in my training… “Fritidsintressen” – Hobbies; “Slutspurt” – Final Sale; “Gift” – Married/Poisonous!? In return I might think she would mock the English language for words such as “Moist”, “Badger” or “Bamboozled”, but that’s beside the point.

Winter is coming

I am only far too aware of how much higher Sweden is on the globe to even the normally “northern” Leeds. Preparations have begun towards an exceptionally cold few months, but apparently Swedes love talking about the weather just as much as Brits! So perhaps a changeable weekend is less a curse for planned activities than it is fuel for riveting conversation at the barbaque?!

The discovery of Fjallraven and every item of equipment and clothing they provide seems somewhat of a god send. I can’t wait to visit a store. Items of note are their Kanken backpacks and their Parka selection.

http://www.fjallraven.co.uk/

On the flip-side – The attractions of skiing and the potential to see the northern lights excite me more than the thoughts of the long dark nights depress me, but perhaps I’ll comment on this again come late December!

KTH Campus Emblem - Courtesy of Pradeep Kumar Srinivasan 

Social Networking

If I didn't admit to patrolling the internet to find any and every person who might be of interest to my new life out there, I wouldn't be telling the whole story.

Siging up to international student pages and following the universities sports team's profiles is giving me a taste of all of the activities and events that will be on offer to me once I get there. Traditional Swedish parties, activity evenings and visits to local businesses and attractions have already commenced for the students on the pre-sessional English course and I am feeling decidedly left out!

I have already found several course mates through the Erasmus Mundus Association, who seem very likeable chaps and I am excited to meet them. Reports of my accommodation and who I might be living with have sent my mind racing but I know truthfully that I won’t really know until I get there. Yet – it does add to the excitement.

Square within Kungliga Tekniska Högsko - Courtesy of Pradeep Kumar Srinivasan

Finally

I can tell that over the coming two years I am going to have much to learn, much to experience and much to live! I am not yet concerned with what will happen towards the end but I get the feeling that if I trust in my abilities and enjoy the ride, it might just work out OK wherever in the world I end up.

I’ll leave you with this fun video about the “10 good things to know about Sweden” that I will be making good use of in the not too distant future…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djFx6j0E9rU