As I write, the neighbors are pounding nails into the walls. I haven’t live in an apartment since I was 6 years old. My first-year college dorm experience was an old convent with my own small room in the midst of a great community. (Later, when I was working as the Director of Communication for the college, we joked that we should market the rooms, “You get two more feet than Alcatraz!” thanks to Tom F.) Let’s see how I do this year!
My neighbor, Andreas, showed me how to do the garbage and recycling. Swedes, like Seattlites, are serious about recycling.
This morning, I had an appointment at the immigration office. I biked on over and waited amidst a room-full of refugees. There was one boy, about four-years-old, who was fascinated with the check in station. there is a scanner and ticket printing machine that caught his fancy. It was great to see his curiosity as the infrared scanner put light on his hand. When I was up at the booth collecting our residency cards, he popped his head under the curtain and checked out the finger print scanner that glowed with green light. I told the clerk, “I think he’s going to be an engineer when he grows up. He has a wonderful sense of curiosity!”
I biked directly to the tax office to give copies of our residency permits to our “handler.” I was amazed that I was pretty direct in getting to the tax office even though I hadn’t mapped it ahead of time. The tax office will give us our person number (like a social security number), but you can hardly do anything without a person number. You can’t even sign up for a store membership card without it!
Next, I went to the bank. With my residency cards, I thought I would have a chance of opening an account and finally get paid. I haven’t been paid, because everything is direct deposit into a bank account.
At the bank, the high-tech “take a number” machine wasn’t spitting out paper to let people know their number. They tried fixing it, but it still didn’t work. There was a little bit of unease, as how would one know the proper order. Swedes like order (I like order too, so I like the way Swedes do things–once I know the order. Sometimes, Swedes aren’t as good as I would hope in informing new people of the systems, because almost everyone else knows these things.)
There were some astute people who were watching who was next in the proper order, so they eventually brought out a roll of paper “take-a-number” tickets and handed them out. Whew! The unease dissipated.
I had filled out the application for international students and temporary foreign workers. (The intent is long-term for both Johannelund and me, but the immigration department brings people in on a 2-year contract the first time.) At the window, I learned that without the person number or Swedish ID card (which requires the person number and 400 kroner (about $47, but how do you pay it without a bank account–a mutually conflicting problem!), I could only get a basic account that didn’t have online banking. So, more waiting! If I need the Swedish ID card, that can take 2-3 weeks after I get my person number. I wonder if I’ll have my bank account before the September 25 payday!?!
On the way home, I continued along the promenade (where the bank was) to the big square. It is quite picturesque!
I had lunch at home in the apartment, which is on the way back to work. I often see this man on a park bench in this green belt, enjoying a cigarette. I decided today that when I see him, I would pray for him.
The path is clearly marked with a bicycle lane, which you can just begin to see to the left of the first tree on the right.
I made homemade pizza for dinner (with a purchased sourdough dough ball), but I discovered that the oven is either hotter than the dial reads or the recipe is not right with too much time. The pizza wasn’t burnt, but it was not in the golden-brown zone.
Here are some ubiquitous kitchen tools in Sweden.
The blue square is a cross between a dish rag and a sponge. It is a light foam thing to wipe off tables and counters. In the center is the cheese slicer. The modern cheese slicer, also called a cheese plane, was invented by Thor Bjørklund in 1925 in Norway (source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cheese_knife). I’m not sure if the Swedes realize that it was a Norwegian who invented it! I don’t know who invented the thing on the right, called a slaskrensare, but I haven’t seen it before coming to Sweden. It is a slotted scoop to scrape up all the food scraps in the bottom of the sink. Sinks here don’t have either a garbage disposal nor the slotted drain cup that collects the food scraps and can be pulled out and dumped in the food waste container.
I’m so tired! So, a little more Swedish and then off to bed–if the nailing stops soon.
With blessings,
Beth
You probably will have more empathy for refugees than anyone. Imagine not knowing much English and trying to navigate the process! Bless you!