One of those weeks
(Een Engels blogje, omdat het ook leuk is om in het
Engels te schrijven. Maar het wordt geen gewoonte, hoor.)
There is a lot in my life that does not end up on this blog. With quite a part, for example my study sessions full of procrastination, I wouldn’t dare boring you. Some aspects would maybe be interesting, but I just don’t take the time to write them down. Maybe some day – or maybe just not. A last part is too personal to end up online.
The thoughts about my life and studies here in Sweden probably belong to some extent to the last category, but I could go as far as saying that of course life as an immigrant (or emigrant?) is often interesting and horizon-broadening, but at times just difficult or strange. You would have guessed that, right? Every now and then, I doubt the usefulness of my quite academic-oriented master or I look at my schedule for the coming week (one hour of class, big deadline) and I think: ‘Why again did I move to a country where I still mix up the words for incredible (otroligt) and anxious (oroligt) to study the role of Muhammad's wives?’ However, luckily then there arrive weeks like the past one. A few highlights.
Tuesday: Kallistos Ware is in Lund! He is an Orthodox metropolitan and famous theologian and he gives an interesting lecture at my Faculty about Christian unity in a very crowded aula. After the lecture, I go for a drink with fellow students (‘the Orthodox mafia’), who came from all over Scandinavia to attend the lecture. We discuss Orthodox confession, Lund’s criminality and chocolate cake, amongst others.
Thursday. Exam day. After studying Hebrew for 5 months, time to cash the credits. If I pass. The train-ride to Copenhagen is nerve-wrecking, but when I get Psalm 24:7-10 I know that this might actually work out. Forty-five minutes later I receive a Danish 10. Contrary to what you might expect, that is not the highest grade, but the equivalent of a European B. (Which is not an American B either...) But who cares – I passed and so did all the others. With a group of study mates, we have an after-exam-beer, then an after-exam-Thai-dinner and then more after-drinks and good talks. Sometime after midnight I cross the border to Sweden again in the Örestundståg. Completely exhausted, but happy.
There is a lot in my life that does not end up on this blog. With quite a part, for example my study sessions full of procrastination, I wouldn’t dare boring you. Some aspects would maybe be interesting, but I just don’t take the time to write them down. Maybe some day – or maybe just not. A last part is too personal to end up online.
The thoughts about my life and studies here in Sweden probably belong to some extent to the last category, but I could go as far as saying that of course life as an immigrant (or emigrant?) is often interesting and horizon-broadening, but at times just difficult or strange. You would have guessed that, right? Every now and then, I doubt the usefulness of my quite academic-oriented master or I look at my schedule for the coming week (one hour of class, big deadline) and I think: ‘Why again did I move to a country where I still mix up the words for incredible (otroligt) and anxious (oroligt) to study the role of Muhammad's wives?’ However, luckily then there arrive weeks like the past one. A few highlights.
Tuesday: Kallistos Ware is in Lund! He is an Orthodox metropolitan and famous theologian and he gives an interesting lecture at my Faculty about Christian unity in a very crowded aula. After the lecture, I go for a drink with fellow students (‘the Orthodox mafia’), who came from all over Scandinavia to attend the lecture. We discuss Orthodox confession, Lund’s criminality and chocolate cake, amongst others.
Thursday. Exam day. After studying Hebrew for 5 months, time to cash the credits. If I pass. The train-ride to Copenhagen is nerve-wrecking, but when I get Psalm 24:7-10 I know that this might actually work out. Forty-five minutes later I receive a Danish 10. Contrary to what you might expect, that is not the highest grade, but the equivalent of a European B. (Which is not an American B either...) But who cares – I passed and so did all the others. With a group of study mates, we have an after-exam-beer, then an after-exam-Thai-dinner and then more after-drinks and good talks. Sometime after midnight I cross the border to Sweden again in the Örestundståg. Completely exhausted, but happy.
Friday. Relief! I don't touch my study books for an entire day, but have a long chat conversation with a very good Dutch friend.
Sunday. Invited at my former 'host family' for lunch. Whereas I have mailed sporadically with the parents, I haven’t seen their three young boys since August. And their fourth son was born in December… He is just as cute as any six-week-old…ahh! I am treated to a real Swedish lunch (‘Wallenbergare’) with green peas, mashed potatoes and a meat dish that they have replaced for me with fish – yum! As a dessert, I offer beschuit met blauwe muisjes, which they seem to like, although the kitchen floor becomes flooded with muisjes… But the best point: whereas in August there was no way I could communicate with the three boys, I now more or less understand the story of four-year-old Emil, when he tells enthusiastically about Hitta Nemo and asks where I live again. Who cares about a Swedish course if you can use your knowledge in practice with Swedish kids? The Sunday ends as perfect as usual: a nice church service, efter-kyrka-fika and a Skype date with my parents.
Sunday. Invited at my former 'host family' for lunch. Whereas I have mailed sporadically with the parents, I haven’t seen their three young boys since August. And their fourth son was born in December… He is just as cute as any six-week-old…ahh! I am treated to a real Swedish lunch (‘Wallenbergare’) with green peas, mashed potatoes and a meat dish that they have replaced for me with fish – yum! As a dessert, I offer beschuit met blauwe muisjes, which they seem to like, although the kitchen floor becomes flooded with muisjes… But the best point: whereas in August there was no way I could communicate with the three boys, I now more or less understand the story of four-year-old Emil, when he tells enthusiastically about Hitta Nemo and asks where I live again. Who cares about a Swedish course if you can use your knowledge in practice with Swedish kids? The Sunday ends as perfect as usual: a nice church service, efter-kyrka-fika and a Skype date with my parents.
Sometimes, all puzzle
tiles fall in place and create moments that exceed expectations. And then you realize
you’re exactly in the right place and time.
[After reading up onAcademic grading in Denmark on Wikipedia...] Ye suffering gods, the ECTS has its own A-F grading scheme? I rather like the fact that the current Danish system allows for scoring -3, though. And the 13 of the old Danish system.
ReplyDeleteAlso: what does ‘efter-kirka-fika’ mean? Google Translate suggests ‘after-church-specific’, which is rather ... unspecific.
Haha! The Danish system is indeed close to brilliant. And yep, the ECTS has its own ECTS grading system, in which both D and E (...) are passing grades. Don't ask me who came up with that.
DeleteFunny how you manage to translate exactly the hardest words in efter-kyrka-fika and that GT doesn't even know Sweden's national word: fika. Both a verb and a noun, it's one of the best part of Swedish vocabulary: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fika_(coffee_break)
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