Friday night...

Morning... well, it's afternoon really, but surely you are allowed to say morning if you eating breakfast! The last post about understanding Aussies was supposed to be published yesterday (Friday) - but I mucked something up, I'm sure you won't notice!

I'll try to keep this brief, although I've said that before and usually fail dismally. Had a great night last night at Stefano's 30th and thought I'd just mention 2 things that made me laugh. First the way Swedes often have a great ability to see how they act, claim/admit that they fit the stereotype, denounce it as being typically "Swedish" - by which they mean boring, and yet do nothing about it... social norms... wonderful! Last night the conversation ended up centering around typical Swedish behaviour queuing and travelling on public transport. It was brought on by a question to me about what differences I experienced when I first came to Sweden - the person who asked had herself lived and studied in Brisbane for 4 years so she had seen the same contrast in reverse. (She also very kindly apologised later for any embarrassment or uncomfortableness that asking the question might have caused - it hadn't, but a lovely gesture!). In summary - don't talk to any one you don't know. This of course result in people travelling on the same bus/train together for many days, weeks, months, years (more so in the country one would assume) and not talking to each other despite the fact they recognise each other. The reasoning is something like this: "Why have you chosen today to talk to me? Is there something wrong with me? No, I don't think so. Therefore there must be something very wrong with you, in which case I don't want to talk to you... I hope we get there soon so I can escape from this horrible conversation and get back to my solitude." At which time someone else on the bus is no doubt daydreaming about their last trip to Australia, Asia, America, wherever, and how nice it was that everyone chats to you and is very friendly. How you can go to a bar, talk to someone and it doesn't automatically mean you are trying to pick them up or that you are on day-release from the loony bin. Hmmm... on to the second thing that made me laugh...

Some of us continued out after the party to a club, Solidaritet, which in English translates to Solidarity. Not an all together surprising name in a country with such a long tradition of socialist government. Oxford defines it thus,

solidarity

• noun unity resulting from common interests, feelings, or sympathies.

It is often associated with unions, and was the name used by a Polish organisation of independent trade unions founded in 1980 and outlawed in good communist style in 1982.

So nothing strange there. Except that the club is located in the heart of inner-city yuppie town and has its fair share of people who are there to see and, more importantly, be seen. There were also a decent smattering of wankers... more than one example of a guy who walks in with some trendy overcoat on and a stylish scarf wrapped around his neck - not at all unusual given the weather outside - but who then proceeds to walk straight past the cloakroom to the bar where he orders a beer and then continues to walk around a very hot bar/club in his very warm overcoat and scarf. Must be tough being so cool. Then of course I tried to imagine how I fitted in to the surroundings: very short hair (shaved yesterday), short stubble (shaved at same time with clippers, not a big fan of shaving properly!), glasses, black shirt, jeans (baggy enough so that they can go over the knee/leg brace) and black shoes... which class of wanker do I fit into in that club?
Still not quite sure how much irony there is in naming a club after the ideal of union fellowship and then filling it with people whose fellowship is fashion - nor in how many people appreciate it.

That's enough for now, time to go for coffee in the sun - preferably behind a window as it's not supposed to get into double digit figures today!

rich.