From Asia to Europe

But it’s not quite ‘as it should be’, or rather, as it has been before. The candles are up in household windows (the ‘nearly-menora’), lights are strung about the town square (though left off, how Swedishly conservational), shop windows are framed in elfy-knomey characters,and some ambitious member of staff at the University went for a wander deep into the local woods and came back with a 2-storey evergreen – now planted smack in the middle of campus. Relative to the North American fire hazard of a tree that leaves scarcely an inch of branch visible beneath its lights, this Swedish brand of the coniferous clan stands crookedly now with only a single string of white lights so sparsely wrapped around it that they seem like an afterthought – all the while, the tree waiting to be tipped by less appreciative foreigners like myself.

So far, though we’re only into day #1 of the Swedish Jul (Yuletide) countdown, the Swedish Christmas spirit seems so very IKEA: clean, simple, to the point. How I miss the gaudier interpretations at home: the ‘Vegas’ creche scene lit up casino-style and most often found within a whiff of Roman-Catholic properties; motorized Rudolphs with blinking traffic-light noses set amongst other reindeer in poses that could be considered subtlely lewd; Mrs. Claus inflated beyond flattering proportions, leaving below her a patch of grass requiring several summers of recovery; or the ridiculous Chevy Chase Christmas monstrosity of a electrical bill that lights up the entire west side of town. North American – or West of Toronto – excess would seem so comforting right about now.

Not that there is much time to enjoy the Where’s Waldo Christmas decorations after comtemplating the second tsunami of assignments lately. After six years of non-university life where work had its figurative ‘off button’, the relentless feeling of pressing deadlines (and endless study) breathing down one’s neck isn’t such an easy feeling to get used to. A chat with Mark Goliger made me put it in perspective: this ‘ain’t nothing’ compared to what an MBA at home could have been. For this, I thank the Swedes and their relatively unrushed work ethic – but I wonder how well-equipped I might be for the sharp competition that is business at home.

While the lead into this next thought may be escapist in character, it is for this and a plethora of other reasons (valid and not) that I have been taking a rather in-depth look at the world of Ph.D. That’s right: if you can’t do it, study it and teach it – and avoid the ‘real world’ like the plague. Nothing seems so attractive at times as the armchair of research. In a serious light, I should be more honest in my portrayal of the profession, as opposed to these ‘cop-out’ pokes at it. To partake on this route would require a concerted effort between me, myself and I for the next 5-6 years. Is a profession that places such reliance on self-motivation (with a warm ‘lifestyle’ aspect to it) going to be torture in less motivated moments? How many Ph.D. candidates are, when it comes time to finding work, overeducated, overdebted, naive and vaguely useful? What from the business world could I research and teach to the next generation of students beyond workaholism, obsessive-competition and exploitation of the planet and its resources? If this ‘save the world-ish’ perspective is chosen, will there be anyone who cares to listen in the future and who isn’t sitting behind their computer screen taking online classes?

Perhaps its not all doom and gloom – I should expect that, 25 years from now, there will still be the Swedish people, self-feeding and self-fueling, wandering around in their little eco bubble of a country, (tropically-climated at this point), clean and green from years of living in the darkness of unlit Christmas lights.

Minimalistically,
Laura

I’ve hidden the posting below after re-reading it. I wrote it last night after a few not-so-nice xenophobic incidences with drunk locals; it’s full of my own not-so-nice reactions that can do little than to spark disgust. Until my perspective feels more complete, I’d rather keep this writing protected.

Laura

I’m having one of those mornings where everything piques my interest – I’ve jumped web-wise from catching up on a few emails to visiting the Dansk Design Center to surfing worldchanging.com and now onto the blog. So many lateral jumps, it’s practically a workout. Every once in a while I dream about a bit of focus but then wonder if I’m wired for that sort of thing.

October’s come and nearly gone at such an aggressive pace. The 4th saw me jumping on a plane for a nearly 40 hour journey, school-to-plane(s)-to-rehearsal-dinner, for Ashley and Neil’s wedding. All went very well, bride and groom in relaxed and happy spirits, no last minute catastrophes, a memorable ‘party’ atmosphere througout the evening.

I did experience my own little bump (or lack thereofs) when I zipped up the back of the strapless bridesmaid dress and the whole thing fell down around my ankles. The measurements Mum and I worked out along with the alterations weren’t quite small enough – sadly if I was better endowed the task would have been made easier. Luckily Rosalyn, mother-of-the-bride, saved the day with a quick safety-pinup that created extra darts under my arms and saw me walking gingerly during public moments.

The rest of the week was spent trying to keep up remotely with the aggressive pace of the program here at school as well as fitting in a great visit or two to Toronto where time permitted.

Returning back to Sweden for the following week had its shocks – most prominently, the weather, which hovered above 0C and had my spring jacket feeling as though I’d wrapped myself in tissue paper. And so, much like Taiwan (though for heat, not air-conditioning), I darted building to building vowing to buy a winter jacket during the following week’s trip to Copenhagen.

Relaxation was had during our Commercialization classes that week – our teacher is a kind, grandfatherly-like man who pays little attention to the clock and carries on in the same unrushed pace for hours… at one point, my simple question was met with a 10-point, 15 minute answer that more or less crawled circles around the issue I’d hope to clear up. He’s such a lovely man that I couldn’t bring myself to point out that his words made muddy sense – and so I chose to answer “Yes!” when asked if I understood, if only to salvage my classmate’s growing impatience and put to rest the sheep jumping fences above my head.

Moving onto last week, where I met Chrissie on Monday evening at the Central Station in Copenhagen (Denmark). Copenhagen had much more of a ‘European’ feel than does Stockholm or other parts of Sweden – it’s well-kept but a bit scruffier than its Northern neighbour, the styles seem less uniform (though this may be the curse of this small city), and their attitudes are all-around ‘snappier’ than the Swedes’. Actually, I’d had a taste of their sense of humour after a few chats with a Danish couple in Thailand, and found that I enjoyed it further after a visit to the country. Copenhagen also seemed to be the land of beautiful eyes; there were so many people with light-aqua-blue peepers that were absolutely arresting.

Even Sweden doesn’t seem to match the Dane’s focus on design – from building to furniture to fashion to print – I found it all to be delicate, functional and attractive. The shopping was excellent in Copenhagen as well – I did end up buying a new winter jacket, brown, pea-style with a double set of button up the front, belt and classic cut – and Chrissie went home with a new set of boots and jeans to round out her new European wardrobe.

Friday and Saturday I went down to Tonder (minus the Danish letter ‘o’) to visit Lindsay and Ejnar. They were loads of fun, and quite busy people – I had little idea of how influential they both are on the ECCO brand – it was great to contrast and compare Lindsay’s spread of model headshots for an upcoming photoshoot, and Ejnar took us on a tour of his ‘design laboratory’ where we saw the styles of next spring’s casual and running shoes in their developmental phases. So cool, and a little bit ‘glamourous’ forgetting the rural setting of the ECCO compound.

Saturday saw a return back to this country of barn-like houses and writing furiously to complete the 12 or so page take home exam due Monday. At the moment, I’m about 2 hours away from our first Swedish class – ooo, I look forward to this one. Once again I’m on the other side of the language class as a student – though this experience will likely be a step away from weeks of Chinese phonetics or sleepy one-on-one conversations about French existentialism with a passionate professor growing quickly weary of my hungover lack of effort.

Everybody say ‘awwwwwww’ (yesssssss),
Laura

Wow, that last entry wasn’t very nice.

I’m tempted to erase it, but instead I’ll leave it standing as a reminder of what not to do next time the overwhelmed feeling creeps up.

I remember striking out at all things Taiwanese during the initial adjustment period there – but luckily it was about the same time daily power surges fried the guts of my laptop, so all was forgotten after a few long bike rides.

Maybe its time to buy a bike.

Or, now that it’s dropped below 0C (today), it’s time to buy a gym pass.

Just Laura

To quote the overused “Keep it Simple (Silly)” – I suspect that, if our school had aligned their curriculum planning with this philosophy, we might not be in such a keep-one’s-head-above-water predicament.

4 modules over 8 weeks, back to back with another 4 modules over eight weeks. Professors who assign reading and assignments as though we students are theirs exclusively – a fully normal approach except that this workload is multiplied by four. An expectation (c’mon!) that all work can be accomplished at a master level of thought.

An excellent ‘comprehensive introduction’ on paper though this amounts to a 16 week scramble in real life. Now that I’ve had more time to reflect on Friday’s programme evaluation meeting, I’m rather shocked that, after hearing about last year’s core complaint of a ridiculous workload, only peripheral solutions were put in place. (ie. change the introduction week.)

While I agree that it is an issue to bring students of varied, often non-business backgrounds onto the same page, the school is setting a dangerous precedent in creating an initial atmosphere of ‘task work’. In the last 6 weeks, my top daily concern is time management. With the rush of expectations, each assignment (loaded with potential for depth of understanding) is simplified and only basic effort is put forth. I feel like an executive assistant for the irritating CEO that can’t say ‘no’. My first weeks of business school have been approached as, essentially, clerical work.

I fear that the school, in only its second year, may be undermining its ‘world class’ goal to be tops of the Entrepreneurship education charts by creating an attitude of mediocracy. They are spreading themselves too thinly. Assembling 39 students from across the world and applying them to a business boot camp is no task for the novice. Furthermore, demanding ‘group work’ (multiply project timeline by 10) for three of the four modules ignores delicate cultural implications that must be addressed slowly. Last year, 2 students burnt out and went home. This year, it continues to be a recipe for implosion.

The real issue is, as I see it, idealism vs. realism. The programme CV is, idealistically, golden. Knowledge and experience across the board, perfect for the entrepreneurially-minded. In reality though, it doesn’t work.

I believe that part of this lies in their ignorance towards work expectation vs. work organization. While it may appear as though a student has the ability to ‘pick and choose their battles’, they infact, do not. This is dire reality of group work: one individual becomes accountable towards a whole greater than themselves. One cannot extract him/herself from the whole and choose to ‘sit out this battle’, or at least, ‘half-ass’ it, without painful consequences. Furthermore, and considering the upbringings of 39 people from around the world, there is an excruciating amount of time dedicated towards finding middle ground – which, at this early point in the game, often does not occur. Frustrations ensue, and as a result, people get efficiently smart. As such, East groups with East, and West with West. The very nature of Entrepreneurship, which relies heavily on built connections, is defeated before it is given fair chance.

And so again, to quote the overused: K.I.S.S.

I shall go punch out once I finish this note.

Exhaustedly,
Laura

Lately it’s been brought to attention that Swedes actually have a word within their language “_________” (to be updated), that signifies a sense of overall comfort. By this, they mean that they’ve little need to try to approach a stranger, or more daringly, a foreigner. (!)

Infact, those strangers who approach them are intuitively seen as ‘odd’ or socially ‘ususual’. To meet a Swede, one must know a Swede and infiltrate social circles by introduction.

Upon hearing this, I couldn’t help but wonder if it isn’t a genetic defense trait designed to protect recessive genes… which would be fun to explore… though this may lead to unfashionable Hitlerian paths.

(Here, I feel like the trojan horse who, behind the blonde-and-blue, is hiding lingering dominant genes for – gasp – brown hair!)

It may be more likely due to a fierce defense of institution: this body that swallows up a significant portion of their earnings, yet allows them the rather la-dee-da, ‘oh, it’s fika (coffee) time again!’ approach to work. If Toronto’s work pace came even within a mile of the Swedes’, I may be tempted to shy away from the relatively rushed, industrious foreigner, lest they get any crazy ideas about settling.

Off-to-writedly,
Laura

Life was very clear-cut in Taiwan where I stuck out like a ‘photo-negative’: people knew to speak simple Chinese to me, they expected to have to help me and I in turn expected them to charge me through the nose at the market. We found our places quickly and life moved in understood directions.

Here in Sweden, I’ve been dealt a sort of camouflage that’s opened a ‘back door’ to the culture – one that, when my grasp of Swedish is made clear, isn’t held open for too long.

As demonstrated in the ‘what’s your name’ exchange between myself and administator “Sven Svensson” (not unlike “John Jones” in English):

Sven Svensson: What’s your last name?
Laura: Henderson.
Sven Svesson: Ah! A-N-D-E-R-S-S-O-N.
Laura: Not quite, ‘HEN-derson’.
Sven Svensson: Ah, I know it! H-E-N-D-E-R-S-S-O-N.
Laura: Close, but with one ‘s’.
Sven Svensson: Oh? H-E-N-D-E-R-S-O-N? That’s unusual Swedish spelling.
Laura: I’m an unusual Swede.
Sven Svensson: (Polite smile.)

Or better yet, the ‘we-can-speak-Swedish-now’, part A and B:

(A): After landing in Vasteras airport on August 17th, I walk up to the cafe counter and ask for a coffee in English. The lady behind the counter shoots me an inquisitive smile, begins her sentence in English and then ends it in Swedish with directions to the self-serve coffee. I thank her in English. Same inquisitive smile in response. Later, she drops by the table and presumably asks if I’m finished with the ketchup that’s been sitting on the table: again, all in Swedish. I give in, nod my head, and thank her in Swedish.

(B): A Swede, a Uruguayan and a Canadian walk up to an IKEA cash. (The bartender says…) Or rather, the cashier hears us speaking English together and addresses Maria (Swede) in English. She gets rung through. Next is Miguel, addressed in English again. Rung through without incident. As I’m loading my wares onto the conveyor belt, I hearthe cashier chatting away in Swedish. I presume that she’s speaking to the other cashier and pay her little attention. Suddenly, her face forms that ‘waiting expression’ when it’s time to answer a question: she’d switched back to Swedish to speak with me and evidently it was my turn to reply. “Sorry?” was all I could manage as Maria stifled a giggle.

Daily, I resist the temptation to reply with Catherine Tate’s ‘herdy gerdy’ dialogue from the ‘Translator’ skit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncirovhlQcw

Falsely,
Laura

Six years ago, when I first visited Europe (and Sweden), I remember being quickly charmed by the lifestyle – the easy pace, focus on quality of life, the rather forward and open nature of conversation, the care in which building and landscape were given. For six years I built a mental idealization of this part of the world and vowed that I would come back in time to live it.

Six years later, here I am in Sweden, ‘living it’. Or rather, some version of ‘it’ – as it would seem, this ideal in my mind sweetened over time and turned utopian when I wasn’t paying attention. Actually, it’s not to say that this lifestyle I mentioned doesn’t exist (in the best moments): it’s just that I don’t expect to have a good taste of it anytime soon, not with this massive (expletive) load of work we have to get through.

Right, now that utopia has been properly parted with, time to account for life within this past month. Rather than narrate in a long sequence of events, I’ll write down the highlights…. ugh, I’ve already become organized and boring from writing about business all day long.

The Abode

My new home is in a residence on the grounds of a bible school. Which means that I live in a bible school residence. Which also means that God precedes over the internet (which works in random spurts), the atmosphere (eerily slient at times), and quite possibly the weather (menopausal: rain then cloud then sun then…).

Perception is all a matter of contrast. And so when I mention that, upon arrival, we were placed in a temporary residence (former office space next to bars) with very few amenities (2 showers for 40 people, army cots as beds for some, no wardrobe, shared rooms, a kitchen with 4 microwaves and 2 fridges only), God’s resort seemed less like the purgatory of the first two weeks. Infact, God’s resort is fully furnished with a shared bathroom between two people, has 2 fully stocked kitchens for fewer people, a sauna and free laundry. God’s resort also boasts a stunning lake view. And at a price of $380 per month paid at month’s END, I was salivating all over the bible.

Today, nearly two weeks later at God’s resort: I can stand the frequent Christian rock moments and biblical movie nights – I’m holed up in my room anyhow pounding out paper after paper on the computer – but I’m starting to wear thin a little on this no alcohol policy. No booze! A puritan dream! But I’m so confused, after all, isn’t this the raison d’etre of Europeans, even Christian ones? Is prayer really enough? How can I spend a night forgetting all that I have to do if my mind is crystal clear? Is there any escapist fun to be had?

I look forward to a room that’s coming available in 2 months, living with Dutch/Bosnian friend Senka: we’ll have to have a great big pisser and paint the town red when that moment comes.

The School

Jonkoping University is situated on a tiny campus, only one square kilometre by generous estimate. The buildings are minimalistic, bright and fully functional: fully Swedish. Fully lacking in any major detail that you can poke fun at. Except.

My only grievance thus far is that the business building is built in the shape of a circle, which is too confusing to navigate before one’s morning coffee. And there are windows in all the classroom doors, which makes the accidental extra lap of the building conspicuous to all inside. The whole thing feels like ‘Groundhog Day’ if you’re not paying attention.

There are additional buildings, coffee drinkering holes, a library thingy and more auditorium thingy-ma-bobs: but who has time to care with all the work dumped on our heads? This is Jonkoping University: entrepeneurially-minded in its management, and evidently we are their little brand babies. “Master students in Entrepreneurial Management, let’s show the world what we can do!” And so they selected 39 of us lab rats from all over the world, and they’re now flushing out the details of the curriculum in year 2 of its existence. We have 4 modules to complete in 8 weeks that would normally be completed in 16 weeks in N. America. And after that, we get to do it 3 more times over for each successive quarter. It’s the most elaborate enema of its kind.

In between the blood, sweat and tear moments I feel like I’m learning something. But I’ll report back for sure in a year’s time when I have time to absorb it.

The Town and People

Jonkoping is a one-horse town. It looks bigger on a map. When you arrive, you realize that outside the 3 squared km city centre, it fades quickly into countryside. That’s where I live, far from the comfy cosmopolitan centres of Toronto and Taipei. Far from anything convenient, really.

Everything closes early here and without warning. The booze store (like the LCBO) opens when it wants to and closes as you’re walking in the door. Not that anyone can afford to buy anything there anyhow: with 25% tax, we sip slowly. Bottles of wine run about $3-4 dollars more than at home. On a student budget, that makes a difference in the long run.

And so with their zero-tolerance policy on drugs (pot is a narcotic! whaaaa!) and rip-roaring prices to buy booze, the Swedes make the best of their drinking time and get completely obliterated, every time. This tradition doesn’t even wear thin in one’s 30’s – the goal of the night is to forget it ever happened. In the bar, this means that ‘excuse me’ translates into a shove, and if you don’t yield, a second and third one. I actually received a full-on headbutt from a guy who acted thereafter as if I deserved it.

And then there’s the epitomy of Swedish bar fun, which has happened a few times over so I know its not my imagination: at some point during the night, the DJ switches the pace to something ABBA-esque and the crowd gets whipped up into a fury. It’s like moshing in a flower patch. Boys and girls falling all over each other, pushing and jumping around, vomiting and slipping on the vomit – all to sickenly sweet melodic disco fun. It’s so warped and yet, so fascinating!

Then the morning arrives and it becomes evident why everyone here looks so young: it’s their poker face. Happy? Straight face. Disappointed? Straight faced. Curious, hopeful, enlightened or livid? Same. There’s not even opportunity for a wrinkle to form. It’s a Botox clinician’s nightmare. The only way to crack the rock is to ask for help. And then, all of a sudden, you’re meet with a Colgate-fresh grin, and a shiny attitude. The clouds even part. It’s such a dichotomy.

….Groceries now call, which is the usual “try to make something tasty and healthy out of the cheapest possible combination of foods”. (3 Dutch people have refered to my cereal as ‘dogfood’ on separate occassions.) And one would have to eat portions fit for an elf to keep the grocery budget in line with Canada. I cringe to consider the bill after 10 months of this.

Well – hope your days are slower and warmer in your respective parts of the world – and at 8C here, global warming is happening in all the wrong places.

Swedishly,
Laura