On the nature of peace, pacifism and war.

Nobody asked me for my opinion on this subject, but here it is anyway. I spent Friday night watching the Nobel Peace Prize concert held in Oslo every year. Before I moved to Sweden I didn’t even know there was such a concert, but now I’ve made it my annual tradition. It’s always inspiring to hear the winners speak of their efforts to promote human dignity and call for an end to war. And the music isn’t bad either. I get swept up in the emotion of it all, the noble words, the grand ideals. Peace is a really lovely thought, as it serves to bring people together - sometimes permanently, most of the time temporarily. I say this because peace, as we’ve come to define it, is a fleeting emotion more than it is a livable reality. Once the romance wears off, we’re left with the commitment part of the relationship. And that’s the part that often sucks. 

I read a very interesting op ed piece the other day that got me thinking about the nature of pacifism. The article questioned the world’s choosing to exclusively remember Nelson Mandela as forgiving, reconciliatory, and pacifistic. Many forget that Mandela was, during his pre-Robben Island years, an advocate for violence as a means to fight injustice. It was only after he was released from prison that he became the spokesman for forgiveness and reconciliation in his nation’s fight against apartheid. The author poses the very interesting question of whether Mandela’s years of peace were only made possible by his years of violence. (If you understand Swedish, you can read the op ed here: http://mobil.dn.se/kultur-noje/kulturdebatt/kajsa-ekis-ekman-bilden-av-pacifisten-mandela-ar-djupt-hycklande/?brs=d.)

Here’s the thing: I don’t think pacifism actually works as an ideology. Or maybe it only works when it’s predicated on war. As in: Now that we’ve torn each other to shreds, we can find within ourselves the generosity, compromise and diplomacy needed to sort out the mess. 

I would argue that struggle, and the instinct to fight against other human beings, is just as ingrained in us as the instinct to seek love and shelter. If the struggle isn’t physically against each other, it’s against oppression, corruption and disillusion. And ultimately, I would argue, it’s against God. We are oppressed because we haven’t learned to control ourselves and are therefore controlled by others. We are corrupt because we can’t handle power. We are disillusioned because life never turns out the way we plan. And we fight against God because we fear the idea of not having ultimate control over our own destinies. We can talk peace and pacifism all we want, but truth is that violence and rebellion are in our nature. 

I don’t actively advocate violence as the solution to a problem. It’s not healthy and it’s not practical. Nevertheless, I do think that violence and/or war is a necessary evil at times. Not only because it helps decide the outcome of an issue that is diplomatically unresolvable, but also because war brings people together in a way that peace doesn’t. War requires a very intense recalculation of one’s priorities, and complex decisions become simpler somehow. It also creates an aftermath in which we can grieve, forgive and rebuild. Pacifism just keeps everything churning under the surface without really allowing confrontation and release to happen. 

Who was it that said ”All is fair in love and war?” Whoever it was, the person certainly had insight into the human condition. On a micro scale, everything about love and war is unfair. But on a macro scale, when human history is viewed holistically from beginning to end, I do believe there is truth in that statement. 

Cultural differences: Episode 1

I’ve lived in four different countries and often find myself comparing the characteristics of their people in my head. As in, what would a Swede do in this situation as opposed to a Spaniard? Anyway, last Sunday at church we sectioned off the back rows with tape so as to force people to fill the sanctuary from the front (Swedes don’t much like sitting in the front rows of any room). I half expected complaints, but none arose and people obediently did as they were ”told.” So I started this mental comparison and it became kind of a comical short film in my head: 

As mentioned, the average Swede would, when encountering a blocked row or a reserved seat, continue on, after a split second of looking dazed and confused, to another row without verbalizing any question or disagreement. They may not understand the reason, but unless asked, they won’t bring it up. 

A Spaniard would stop, survey the situation, then subsequently start complaining to their companions, under their breath at first; then, as in ripple effect, the noise level would grow as the entire group gets disgruntled and starts questioning the unfairness and unreasonableness of it all, all the while blocking the aisle for anyone else trying to get by. Note that they would not go up to an usher and ask the reason for this measure and if an exception could be made for them. They would simply create an epic drama, then sit where they were directed. The whole thing would probably be rehashed over dinner afterwards. And again the next day at their mothers’. 

An American would probably just remove the barrier and sit wherever the hell he/she wanted. After all, they’ve got rights. Then again, the American probably wouldn’t even notice the back rows, as sitting in the closest available row to the front is standard procedure.

P.S. I may have exaggerated. This is not meant to offend anyone; it’s just some good-natured satire from a person who identifies with all three behaviors. 

Budapest. Go there. Now.

Budapest is going on my list of favorite places of all time. I went with my good friend and eternal travel buddy Lina. We tend to like the same things (namely good music and good food) which makes for a perfect travel partnership. We call ourselves the ”L.A. Factor” because we seriously happen upon the most unexpected, wonderful things without explicitly meaning to. 

The hotel

We decided to splurge and book a room at the five star Le Méridien (http://www.lemeridienbudapest.com/), and I am so glad we did. I’ve slept in a wide variety of hotels and hostels over the years, and this is one of the absolutely best places I’ve been to, if not the best. It was opulent but not over the top, decorated very tastefully in that ”old world” elegance I love so much. The service was so excellent and curteous, I almost felt like an imposter. Like here I am, a girl on a teacher’s salary pretending to be rich for a few days - they’re bound to see through my act at any moment. 

The view from our hotel room

Our sojourn here made me reflect over how much the living accommodations affect the overall outcome and satisfaction of a trip. I tend to pick hotels that are economical and allow me to spend money on other things, but after having stayed here, I’m going to have a hard time booking a hostel or even a three star hotel from now on. A nice place provides a wonderful, relaxing routine. I swam for 30 minutes each morning, after which we went down to breakfast, which was so delicious it warranted at least four courses. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed lingering over a meal so much. If ever you’re in Budapest, I urge you to splurge. This place is worth it. 

The music

Lina and I both love jazz, so we scanned the culture calendar for some sweet clubs to hit. We ended up going to Orfeum, an old fashioned cabaret in the basement of a five star hotel (http://www.orfeumclub.hu/en/). There we sat, sipping cocktails, listening to a girl and her band sing and play Hungarian cabaret tunes. It made me wish I’d lived during the roaring 20’s. What an era that must have been... 

Probably the biggest thing we did this entire trip was go see Giuseppe Verdi’s Requiem. I thought nothing would be able to top the jazz festival we were at in Montreal this summer, but this came very close. Apparently they do it once a year on All Saints’ Day, and we just happened to be in town for it. Delight! The concert hall was completely packed, and somehow we landed front row seats! I am absolutely certain I did not book the front row when I purchased the tickets online, but there we were, literally three feet away from the orchestra. And oh my goodness. I was fighting tears after the first ten seconds. 

Another great thing we did was attend Sunday morning mass in St. Stephen’s Basilica.

Not only was it amazing to just sit in such beautiful surroundings; what put this experience on the I-will-remember-this-for-the-rest-of-my-life list was the choir that sang beautiful Gregorian chants and ancient hymns from the balcony. I was transported to heaven. 

The food

I am not a huge fan of Eastern European cuisine in general (it’s a bit too heavy for my taste), but I think we found some jewels: 

Noir et l’or (http://noiretlor.hu/) Lina and I both had the pink peppered pork with spinach and polenta. To. Die. For. 

Il Pastaio (http://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Restaurant_Review-g274887-d4892170-Reviews-Il_Pastaio-Budapest_Central_Hungary.html) Some of the best Italian food I’ve ever eaten. Hands down. 

Trófea Grill (http://kiraly.trofeagrill.eu/en) An all you can eat and drink buffet for a fixed price. Great selection of food, attentive service, a hopping place. 

The sights

What I liked most about Budapest was that it wasn’t too much to take in. It has an historic depth, a fascinating culture and language, and jaw-dropping monuments. But it’s contained and ”graspable.” We saw and did a lot of things without feeling like worn out tourists at the end of the day. The highlights:

The Gellért baths (http://www.gellertbath.com/) were relaxing once we found where we were going. It’s so big and there are so many rooms that it’s easy to get lost with all the signs pointing in all directions. The water was warm and good for the joints. We treated ourselves to Thai massages as well. The lady hammered my muscles and it was painful, but I really did feel much more relaxed afterwards. Somehow Lina got the gentler massage... 

Free city walking tour (http://www.triptobudapest.hu/). I don’t know how we do it, but for the second time in a row we’ve just happened upon a free city walking tour right as it’s beginning. We joined the group and ended up having a marvelous time. Props go to the fantastic guide, Dóra, whose knowledge of the city and interest in its history was contagious and entertaining. We bought her coffee afterwards to say thank you.

Our little group of happy tourists. The tour guide is the one to the far left holding the sign.

Lina by the Buda Castle

St. Matthew’s Church was GORGEOUS. I love cathedrals and have been in a great many of them, but this one tops the list. At first I fell in love with the roof. 

Then we went inside. I have never been so in awe of a church’s interior. The style was different to anything else I’ve seen and the combination of patterns and colors on the walls was mesmerizing. I took way too many photos in an attempt to capture the depth and color, but it’s impossible. Here are three of them: 

Boat tour - inexpensive and worth the hour spent. We ended up going in the evening which is probably the best time as monuments such as the Buda Castle and the parliament building are spectacularly lit up. Of course I left my camera at the hotel. :-( 

Jewish synagogue (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doh%C3%A1ny_Street_Synagogue). Theodor Herzl (the founder of political Zionism and in effect the founder of the State of Israel) was born in the house right next door to this synagogue. Also, the famous Swede Raoul Wallenberg is much revered here as he saved the lives of tens of thousands of Hungarian Jews during the Second World War. The synagogue’s interior was beautiful. 

Museum of fine art (http://www.szepmuveszeti.hu/main). I’ve been making my way through Art History for Dummies since August, and even though I remember very little in relation to the how much I’ve read, I do remember the name Caravaggio. The museum had a temporary exhibit of some of his biggest works, so we went to scope it out. Art museums in general can be pretty boring in my opinion, but there is still a reverence to them that I love. It’s hard to fully grasp just how insanely good these old masters were. 

The people

We met some interesting characters along the way. Among others was a white African from Namibia. Not yet 20, he’s been backpacking around Europe since August, sleeping on random people’s couches. I admire that kind of abandon, though I would never be brave enough to do the same. I like to have a plan and the logistics in place. 

At the airport on our way back I stood behind Paul the Hungarian guy. He started talking to me as we stood in the security check line, something about the water I was chugging before passing my bag through security. He continued talking all the way through the line and then followed us to the waiting area. I couldn’t get rid of him without being mean, so I humored him and listened while he told me all sorts of stories from his life, how he’d left Hungary at 15 and moved to the Philippines where he lived on the street and almost got shot by his girlfriend’s mob boss uncle. He waxed poetic about his devotion to his mother, his warrior ancestors, his own inherent goodness.... Seriously, this always happens to me. I seem to attract all the weirdos - but as my father likes to tell me, the hazard with being a bright light is that you attract a lot of flies. 

Once, just once, I would like a handsome and charming man to randomly (or intentionally) engage me in small talk. Is that really too much to ask?? I mean, my goodness. So please, if you are hot, single and in possession of moderately decent social skills, please talk to me the next time we find ourselves in the same security check line. It would give me a tremendous boost of self confidence. Thank you. 

The "C" Word

A student once said to me, rather philosophically, ”The only two things that are certain in this life are change and death.” I don’t know if he got that from his grandpa or if he formulated it himself, but either way, he’s totally right. 

My relationship with change is a bit conflicted. I liken it to an awkward dance with a guy I have an enormous crush on but barely know. I love it as much as I resent it. I crave it as much as I fear it.

The changes in my life, especially those during my twenties, haven’t been tragic, just big. Think loud, garish colors and a cartoon ”kaboom” cloud followed by nine exclamation marks - the exact opposite of subtle. I am by nature an introvert, but due to circumstances I’ve learned to be more extroverted and to take the unknown in stride. It’s been challenging, but it’s been cool, and now that I’ve gotten used to being thrown into new situations, I’ve started craving it like a drug. I start going through withdrawal if too much time goes by without a change of scene (and when I say too much time, I mean like a month). But God knows me well, and He makes sure to add certain dynamics to my life that keep me interested and dependent on Him. ;)

I’ve grown to appreciate change, not just crave it. And I think there’s an important distinction to be made there. Craving is so one dimensional. If we crave without appreciating, we overlook the opportunity to learn and grow, since appreciation for something is often what propels us forward into a new place of discovery. 

Transition has been one of my greatest teachers. Unless forced into accepting new conditions, my own human nature has the tendency to get comfortable, complacent and lazy. Since I greatly desire to test the boundaries of my own destiny and potential, I can’t afford to remain in my comfort zone. As the saying goes: Ships are safest in harbor. But that’s not what ships are for.

Don’t run away from change. Change is inevitable and it’s not always positive, but the way I see, it’s how you approach it and react to it that allows room to be made for maturity and redemption, and ultimately, tremendous blessing and abundance. 

It's the little things

I was making Shepherd’s pie and listening to some Carole King on a Saturday afternoon when I thought to myself: Life is pretty blissful. So I decided to make a list of some of my favorite things. And I hope that while reading this you feel inspired to make a ”bliss inventory” of your own. 

1. A really good book. You know, the kind that draws you right in, stimulates your intellect, makes you laugh and cry, and challenges you to see life through a different set of eyes. 
2. Dark chocolate, blue cheese and green olives accompanied by a glass of Amarone. 
3. Waking up on a Saturday and feeling inspired to deep clean the apartment. Assuredly I say to you, it doesn’t happen that often.
4. Getting a text message from a friend wondering if I’d like to meet up for coffee after work.
5. A brisk walk in perfect autumn weather: cold, crisp and sunny. 
6. Remarking to a friend, ”I really feel like taking a trip somewhere,” and her saying, ”Me too. Where shall we go?” Me replying, ”Budapest.” And her responding, ”Let’s do it.” (We’re leaving for Budapest next week!)
7. Movies like Singing in the Rain, A Good Year, and You’ve Got Mail. They just make me smile. 
8. Hearing from a friend or relative that a student of mine they randomly ran into said I was their favorite teacher. 
9. Planning a trip back to the States to visit family, especially when it’s for Christmas. 
10. Having my dad look at me while my mom is relaying this super detailed story and say, ”I bet you really just wanted the headlines.” 

Back from Bosnia Part 3

Each time I’m in Sarajevo, I feel inspired. Smog and sad buildings make the city gray; the levels of bureaucracy are so absurdly confusing that even the natives get lost trying to explain them; corruption is widespread and the socio-economic future for Bosnia’s younger generations is uncertain. Despite this, I’ve met great optimism and love in the individuals I’ve come across on each of my three trips. They are passionate about their nation and they are truly making a difference in their communities. They make me feel part of something big. It was a short trip this time, just two and a half days, but it was full of new experiences that will stay with me for the rest of my life. 

These are exciting times.

My day at the U.N.

Anybody who knows me can testify to the fact that I love to travel and dream of working internationally. I’m pretty honest about my ambitions even though my life has been on a detour as of late (albeit a very satisfying one!). But if I could do absolutely anything, I would want to be the General Secretary of the United Nations. I’d gladly settle for a lesser title, but the point is, I want to hold a position of influence in which I can affect real change in people’s lives in an efficient yet compassionate way. (I’m open to suggestions, job offers...) ;) 

Anyway, my teaching colleagues and I were invited to attend a Municipal Development Conference, arranged by the Embassy of Sweden and SIDA (the Swedish International Development Agency), and held at the UNDP headquarters in Sarajevo. The purpose was to ”deepen the dialogue between the international community and the collective of municipalities to stimulate development and reform at the local level in BiH” (Bosnia and Herzegovina). And oh boy, what a collective of municipalities there were. And politicians. And NGOs. And foreign diplomats. And moi.... (say what?!?)

To say the least, I felt like a very insignificant person in the presence of such political muscle. But it was kind of eye-opening. For one thing, I realized that mingling with bureaucrats is maybe not my favorite thing, but that I could get used to it. And I also realized that the implementation of municipal development measures in BiH is a lot more complicated than an idealist like me can imagine. I naively think that reason, logic, and the good of the people are really good directives to style a society after. But when those things aren’t necessarily part of the process or even the ultimate goal, things get a bit intense. 

The highlight of the day was without a doubt meeting Maya Bekto and her sister (whose name I sadly don’t recall), two women who started up a social business called Wool Fabrique. Maya is a designer and her sister is head of production. There are many women living in rural areas who are uneducated and unemployed, but they have a skill: the traditional craft of weaving. So the sisters had the idea of supplying these women with an original design and wool (bought from local sheep farmers) and paying them to weave artifacts such as baskets, tote bags and toiletry cases. 

This has a number of positive social ramifications: 1. Local sheep farmers can sell their wool, 2. Rural women can support themselves and their families (they receive payment in cash immediately upon product completion), 3. The items are sold on the European market (think trade fairs in Paris, London, and Berlin), thereby creating a name for artisanal Bosnian products, and 4. Maya and her sister can live off of the profits and employ people who otherwise have a hard time finding a source of income. This is the essence of social enterprise! 

Wool Fabrique has experienced tremendous success and now the sisters are facing the challenge of balancing high demand with low production. They can’t do it all themselves and they are currently looking for more investors and workers! You can order these stylish Wool Fabrique products online and support a very worthy business. Check out their products here: http://hoolaboola.com/2013/02/08/wool-fabrique-j-adore/

And if you can read French, you can visit the official site: http://woolfabrique.com/la-fabrique/

Center for Healthy Aging

This was a highlight for me. A big social dilemma in BiH is the fact that the elderly aren’t ”seen.” Since it’s not kosher for family members to put them in retirement homes, they live with relatives, but are largely ignored. Most of them sit at home with nothing to do, and often succumb to loneliness, depression and poor health. One woman named Sejdefa Basic-Catic, along with a team of people, recognized this dilemma and got the idea to start a center for healthy aging in which the elderly could gather, fellowship, paint, sing, play chess, exercise, and eat together. The center is the only non-smoking facility in the city (!!!), and ironically, in a society of smokers, it has enjoyed tremendous popularity. 

There is a core team of people that runs the center, but it also relies on a number of volunteers. Many of these volunteers are actually ”troubled youths” who have found a place where they feel needed and valued, a place where they can give to a cause that’s bigger than themselves. I don’t need to explain the enormous benefits of this. It also provides the forum for a much-needed meeting of generations. 

A large number of patrons have relatives who have emigrated to other countries, so they are taught how to use email and Skype to communicate with their loved ones. 

At one point we got to listen in on a choir rehearsal. Ca 20 people sat around a big table and sang old Bosnian (maybe even Yugoslavian?) folk songs. One of them was called (roughly translated) ”O Sarajevo you beautiful city.” If found it very moving: people who have survived a war, and maybe even fought on different sides, joining in unison song about their beloved city that only 20 years ago nearly succumbed to hatred. The significance of this can’t be expressed in words. Only in song. 

I could go on and on about how great this center is, but I think the pictures say it all. You can check out the website: http://www.zdravostarenje.ba/

MoBa

I mentioned him in ”Bosnia Part 2,” and here he is again, because he’s that cool. Eldar Balta is my age but he’s lived so many more lives than me it seems. He knows a lot about a lot of things, and with him you can easily traverse a variety of subjects in one conversation. After the U.N. conference, we all went to the Little Goldfish café (my favorite spot in Sarajevo) and conversed over glasses of wine and pivo (beer). He talked about his work with the Sarajevo Jazz Fest, his life during the war, and his love of home. Unlike me, Eldar has no desire to travel outside of his own country. To me that sounds counter-intuitive since that’s pretty much the only thing I want to do. But he made a remark that made me pause. He said something to the extent of, ”I travel between experiences as other people travel between countries.” Huh.

About a year ago he started MoBa with his best friend Luka (an American ex-patriate from Pennsylvania). Luka is a landscape artist by trade, and one of the visions of MoBa is to engage people (primarily young people) to improve their local communities by cleaning up and beautifying nearby parks. The one you see in this picture is a little green space in the middle of a Tito-era apartment complex. MoBa planted grass and trees where before there was only mud. 

There’s still a lot of work to be done, work that has less to do with landscaping and more to do with changing hearts and mentalities, but it’s a start! If you’re interested in learning more, check out MoBa’s Facebook page (most of it is in Bosnian, but there are some posts made in English): https://www.facebook.com/mobasarajevo

Gimnazija Dobrinja  

Our last stop was Gimnazija Dobrinja, the upper secondary school we’ve had contact with throughout this project. Last year, four of my students lived with four Bosnian students from this school for a week and it was a great experience for everyone. This time around we teachers had a chance to meet a larger group of students to share how we work with entrepreneurship in our own school. It was interesting to hear these students’ thoughts on education, the job market and the future. The overall attitude is one of skepticism and hopelessness. Statistics communicate that the future is not very bright for many of them. The job market is very limited and it’s extremely difficult for college graduates to get a job within their field of study. 

So what’s the solution? Elvir Resic (to the right of me in the photo), the deputy mayor of Novi Grad (a suburb of Sarajevo), posed the question: ”Would you be willing to take any job, if only to pay the bills while you wait for better employment to eventually present itself?” For a lot of students, this seemed to be a new thought. Eldar challenged them to become volunteers. Very few people are willing to work without pay, so this was a bit provocative. But the truth is you build relationships with people and you start thinking in a different way when you give generously of your time and energy to a cause that benefits a greater community of people. Yet another alternative is to start your own business. That’s where my colleagues and I came in. Since there are so few ready jobs available, the only other good option is to become your own boss, invent a new product, create your own niche. This requires creative thinking and determination to become part of the solution instead of the problem. 

It’s not easy trying to change an entire generation’s outlook on life. Parents pressure their kids to get a good education so that they can get a job. But jobs are scarce, politics are corrupt and change moves at a snail’s pace. I don’t blame young people for growing disillusioned with the dysfunction surrounding them. But I was encouraged by the light I saw in some. These are the future leaders of Bosnia and it’s up to them to choose between being changemakers and forming part of the status quo. 

Exciting times indeed.  

Ode to Daniel

I love my brother. And I consider our relationship to be an incredibly close one. We’re transparent with one another, we encourage each other, we’re honest and we keep each other sharp. When we fight, it’s epic, but we always smooth it out. He’s developed a dry sense of humor that makes me laugh, and even though I may not be as emotionally responsive as some, he has at times moved me to tears with his singing. A particular moment comes to mind when I saw him perform Sondheim’s ”Not while I’m around” many years ago. I realized then that he wasn’t just my little brother anymore. 

I still forget sometimes to not treat him as such. It’s not easy making the transition from the big sister/little brother hierarchy to being adults on equal terms. I’m still adjusting to the idea that he’s a grown-up now - more grown up than me in many regards. I mean my goodness, he owns a car and pays insurance! And he’s got a smartphone! And a gym membership!

We’ve spent most of our adult lives living in separate states and/or countries, so this transition hasn’t been a subtle or progressive one for me. Each time I see him is a glaring reminder that I can’t boss him around anymore. I can’t tease him in the same way I used to. He’s got his own way of reasoning, his own values and his own relationships. 

He’s recently taken a huge step and moved to the Big Apple to attend grad school and make his way in the world of musical theater. That takes guts and just the right amount of recklessness. I admire and look up to him (and I mean that also literally as he’s a head taller than me). He’s super charming, smart, talented and charismatic. And for reasons I have yet to figure out, he holds me in high regard. I hope I’ll always be that person.   

Daniel, I’m proud of and excited for you. All I gotta say is that I better be your date to the Tony’s. Eventual girlfriend or wife is irrelevant. I am the star’s sister. ;) 

mucho love-o

A try at grief

One year ago today, my complex and very much loved grandmother died. My first try at grief, and I don’t think I handled it well. 

I didn’t have an emotional breakdown, I didn’t get depressed, and I didn’t project my anger and sadness onto anything or anyone else. Instead, I spent a great deal of time feeling numb and in a hurry.  

I was preparing to leave for Sarajevo when I found out she had cancer. The pancreatic kind. Even though she was in late stages, the general consensus was that she had a few months left to live. But while I was in Sarajevo, her condition worsened drastically and no one seemed to know if she’d even make it through the week. Which put me in a state of panic that I wouldn’t get there in time. I was in constant communication with my dad who had flown from Spain to NY the week before. He said she was in a really bad state, but that she seemed to be hanging on, waiting for me. 

All of her grandchildren had been to see her. I was the only one left. 

As soon as I got home from Sarajevo, I booked a trip to the States and a week later I was on a plane again. My poor students were left to fend for themselves, but my co-workers were a great support and told me not to worry about a thing. They’d take care of it. 

My uncle picked me up from the airport in Boston and drove me down to Utica where my grandmother was checked into a hospice. I walked in the door and saw my dad, aunt and grandpa sitting in the living room, awaiting my arrival. My dad started crying as he pulled me into an embrace. I expected to start crying too, but I didn’t. I made the rounds, then I went in to see her. 

There she was, much altered, yellow from jaundice, and struggling for breath. Much of our relationship had been marked by drama, so I guess I had expected, hoped, to have one last dramatic moment with her like the others had had. But she was already too far gone. 

She did know it was me though. 

I’d rehearsed this scene in my mind for days. I took her hand and sang ”You can close your eyes” by James Taylor, the song I’d been singing to her from across the ocean. Then I sat there and waited for the rest of the movie to unfold. But it didn’t. Not my version of it anyway. 

The weeks of worry, the dramatic rush to get there, the big entrance with the tears and hugs and all the rest of it, all building up to what I imagined would be the climax: my holding her hand as she draws her last breath; the subsequent release into the sad but peaceful aftermath of a funeral, and then the melancholy yet strangely settling journey home to Sweden. But that movie never got made. Because she didn’t die the night of my arrival as everyone had thought she would. She didn’t die the next day either. Or the next. In fact, she hung on the entire week until 30 minutes before I had to leave for the train station. So I didn’t get to attend the funeral, I didn’t get to have the big dramatic family reunion, and I didn’t get to live the romanticized piece of cinema I’d conjured up in my mind. 

Instead I spent the week feeling numb and in a hurry. I’m ashamed to say it, but every day I prayed that it would be her last. That she would breath that last sigh of relief and let God take her. So that I could go to the funeral and then go home. Don’t misunderstand me; I wasn’t in a hurry to get home, but I didn’t have the flexibility of time or money to change the return date on my ticket. And I really wanted to experience the closure of attending the funeral. It would have been my first. 

Numbness and hurry. Those were the two emotions I felt. And to this day I still haven’t had a good cry. I shed a few tears when I first received the news and talked to her on Skype. And then again at the moment she died. But the rest of the time, I was a wall. 

And I don’t understand why. Because I loved her very very much. And I miss her. So so much. 

So what have I learned about grief? Well, nothing. Just that I’m not sure I’ve experienced it yet. And that feels like a horrible thing for me to say. 

Feminism: a ladder made of bones.

I’m in the middle of a book called Loving Frank by Nancy Horan - an engrossing story, beautifully written, and well-researched. I highly recommend it. But it makes me angry. 

It’s a fictional portrayal of two very real people: Mamah Cheney and Frank Lloyd Wright. Both of them were married with children when they met, and in the course of their affair, they abandoned their spouses and children and ”fled” to Europe where they lived together for over a year. I’m not going to recount the tale here, but I will give a quick background so that you’re not completely lost as you follow my thoughts. 

Frank Lloyd Wright, as you may know, was a very talented architect who made a name for himself through his visionary design of natural, organic homes (which sounds cliché now, but was ground-breaking then). What you may not know is that he carried on a lengthy affair with the wife of one of his clients, Mrs. Edwin Cheney (the aforementioned Mamah - prounced May-mah). He was a talented, indulgent artist whose prim and proper wife ”didn’t understand” him and she was a well-educated, independent woman who had married the steady but boring Edwin mostly out of fear of remaining single in a society that valued women for their home-making skills. When Frank and Mamah met, they recognized themselves in each other instantly. 

I have to be honest and say that I do sympathize with characters who find themselves trapped in a stagnant and fettering marriage to the wrong person and who long to be free to live with the one they are ”supposed” to be with. If I didn’t love the Lord and I hadn’t been instructed in solid, biblically moral thinking, then I too would be more than capable of marrying the wrong man in the throws of passion only to realize a few years later that he wasn’t the one I wanted after all. I would also be capable of carrying on an affair with another man and weaving an all around tangled web, for I am a passionate and impulsive person. I’ve had to make a conscious effort to curb these characteristics so as not to make a complete mess of my life. So yes, I sympathize with Mamah and Frank in their desire for freedom and stimulating companionship. 

I do not, however, sympathize with characters who leave their families, and importantly, their children, behind. Once you are married and/or have children, you renounce your right to self-indulgence. Period. I know that sounds unenlightened, but I don’t care. You have a duty to take care of your kids regardless of whether or not you feel self-actualized. Because when you make the decision to have children, you are no longer the most important person in your life. I’m sorry if that’s inconvenient for you. I have heard of one too many women who've abandoned their children, and it bothers me to no end. Seeing the effect on those kids breaks my heart. **  

**Let the record state that I don’t believe it’s ok for men to leave their kids either. But for the purpose of this essay, and because I am a woman, I aim to challenge women.

I know that not all women consciously make the decision to have children - sometimes it just happens. But the way I see it, if you are intimate with a man, then you open yourself up to the distinct possibility, and there’s no way of getting around that biological fact. So you better keep that in mind. 

What I want to challenge here is the notion that a woman’s right to pursue her own happiness trumps her responsibilities toward her family. For decades, modern society has bent itself backward trying to accommodate the disgruntled woman. The feminist movement started off with noble intentions: Men vote, so it’s only logical and right that women should vote. Yes. Men work, so it’s only logical and right that women should work. Yes. Men have the right to do as they please, so it’s only logical and right that women should also be able to do as they please. Yes? Men abandon their families to pursue work, pleasure and excitement, so it’s only logical and right that women should also be able to abandon their families to pursue work, pleasure and excitement. Wait, what? 

History is full of men behaving badly. But history, especially recent history, is also full of women behaving badly. And we justify our actions because men have been allowed to do so without much consequence. I think it’s completely unfair that women often suffer greater consequences and public ridicule than men when behaving badly, but this double standard doesn’t make our actions justifiable. Somewhere along the line, the feminist movement got warped and started demanding acceptance for poor female behavior. But two wrongs don’t make a right - everybody knows that! Hello people! 

The effect of feminism is widespread and very murky, so I’m not going to delve too deeply here. But I do have some observations to offer on the consequences we are now reaping:

1. Men have forgotten what it is to be men. We’ve trampled all over their God-given role as protector of and provider for the family, and now they’re mostly wandering around trying to figure out what to do with themselves. We’ve stolen their backbones and used them as rungs on the ladder we’ve climbed, forgetting that a ladder made of bones won’t hold. 
2. Children have been robbed of a secure home. Even if the mom and dad are still together, the model is broken and the parents are not secure in their roles and don’t know how to set proper boundaries. Insecurity just breeds more insecurity. And that’s what we have now: an insecure generation that can’t commit to anything and doesn’t know how to behave properly. 
3. Women aren’t any happier now than they were 70 years ago. If anything, we’re more fragile and stressed out than ever since we’ve had to fill both male and female roles in our frantic rush to be like men. We have to party and sleep around, lest we not be ”free.” We have to work full time and have mad careers, lest we be dependent on a man to support us. We have to have children and be members of the PTA, lest we be heartless. We have to have high education and fascinating hobbies, lest we be deemed uninteresting. 

I’m not saying that things were better back when women were confined to being barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, because they weren’t. What I’m saying is the feminist movement did not make the situation better. Our intentions were noble and just, but our newfound power went to our heads and we charged on, causing so much unevaluated damage that can never be returned to and mended. All we can do now is make an attempt at damage control by reevaluating our ideas just a bit. 

Before I continue, I want to clarify that I do realize that not everything is black and white. I’m well aware that there are a million shades to the reasons for why my theories may not apply to you. But I am speaking in general terms and of general principles that pertain, or should pertain, to most people. 

The world likes to tell us that the modern woman can have it all, and that may be the case for many of us. But if we’re really honest with ourselves, we’ll admit that we can’t have it all at the same time. There are seasons in everyone’s life and they call for different things. There will be a season of self-discovery and education. There will be a season of work and productivity. There will be a season of child-bearing and raising. And there will be a season of pursuing interests and hobbies. If we’re ambitious, we’ll experience all of these seasons, and more. But we need to be reasonable and see that we can’t go through all seasons at once. Imagine having summer, fall, winter and spring simultaneously. Where would the satisfaction be in that? That just sounds like cold sweats and hot flashes to me. 

There will be situations that call for sacrifice, for laying down your own dreams in favor of keeping the peace in your family. There will be times of monotonous diaper changing. There will be times of feeling completely trapped and bored. But if you give yourself fully to your present task, there will come a time when you can take a step back and admire the work you’ve done, for example, with your kids, and you’ll have the confidence to let them go. Then you’ll have time to indulge your interests and rediscover yourself to a depth and satisfaction you wouldn’t have experienced had you tried to fit it all in before its due time. 

I’m probably going to get so much criticism for what I’ve just written, but I have sincerely thought a lot about this. When I was 22, I wanted to have it all. The career, the husband, the kids, and the fun. I wanted to have it NOW and ALL AT ONCE. Thankfully, my life did not turn out the way I wanted. Time gave me a lot of space to mature and learn from others’ mistakes before blindly rushing into my own. I’ve been given time to understand the significance of being a parent and I don’t want to have kids until I am prepared to forfeit my right to pursue my own needs and desires. I may never get to that point, and I may never have children. But if I do, then I believe that God is kind and will be faithful to bless me by meeting some of my needs and desires as I prioritize my future husband and children. But that’s a faith posture. Because I really don’t know how all that is going to work out. And there we have it. The root problem of feminist ideology: lack of faith and trust.

I’m convinced that the main regret people have at the end of their life is not having done right by the people they loved. The good news is that there is a way to circumvent that regret. And that is by doing right by the people you love. Even if it comes at the expense of your own happiness and comfort. In the light of eternity, will it not have been worth it? 

Faking it: The art of making people think you know what you’re talking about when you have no idea what you’re talking about.

For the past three years I’ve been working as a teacher and was just recently hired to teach two subjects I’ve never taught before. I felt really apprehensive about it at first, because how in the world was I supposed to stand in front of a class of 32 teenagers and speak on things I know not of? But now, a couple of weeks into the term, I’m feeling pretty good about the whole thing. It’s not quite so bad. Which begs the question: Am I that good at faking it or are my students really that easily duped? I already think highly of their intelligence, so I’m going to go with the first option: I must be really good at faking it. 

How do I pull this off? Well, beside reading up on the topic a few days before the lesson and dazzling them with my supa dupa Power Points (thank you Google Images), I follow these five simple rules: 

Rule number one: You’ve gotta look good. This will take your audience’s attention off of what they’re hearing and on to what they’re seeing. And if you’re a female teaching a group of mostly males, turn on the charm and milk it for all it’s worth. In a classy way of course. 

Rule number two: Maintain animated body language. If you move your hands fast enough, the audience will grow dizzy and forget to pay attention to what you’re saying. 

Rule number three:  If someone asks a question you don’t know the answer to, bounce the question back to the whole group and pray that someone else will know the answer. If that doesn’t work, be honest about your ignorance, but in an authoritative way. If you sound apologetic, you’ll lose your credibility. The credibility you don’t have, technically...

Rule number four: Take advantage of all your contacts and bring in ”guest lecturers” to conduct your lessons whenever possible. This will give you major ”cool” points since you know so many smart and interesting people. And then you’ll be smart by association. 

Rule number five: If all else fails, crack a joke and change the subject. And refer to rule number one.

The curse of Jante: Reach for the stars, but watch out for that glass ceiling.

There is a word in Swedish that doesn’t translate into English, which is unfortunate, because it pretty much describes an entire cultural mentality. One could say it sums up the Swedish way of looking at life. This word is lagom. Not too hot, not too cold, but lagom. Not too hard, not too soft, but lagom. Not too big, not too small, but lagom. The Goldilocks syndrome, if you will. 

You might think this is a rather sound, balanced way to live your life - tending toward neither extreme but keeping to the middle of the road. But I’m convinced that the only place this road leads to is mediocrity, dissatisfaction and resentment. Mediocrity because you won’t ever stand out or excel. Dissatisfaction because you won’t get what you really want. Resentment because you’ll hate those who actually do get what they want. 

There is a Scandinavian cultural phenomenon called the Law of Jante which is ”used colloquially...to negatively describe an attitude towards individuality and success common in Sweden and other Nordic countries.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Law_of_Jante) To use a common illustration: Take a bucket of crabs. If one crab tries to climb the wall and break free from his prison, the other crabs will drag him down before he reaches the top. Why is this? I don’t know. Envy, fear, conformity - take your pick. Whatever the reason, Jante’s Law partially explains why socialism has worked so well in Sweden over many decades.

Jante’s law infiltrates every area of Swedish society: politics, economics, church, academia.... While the Swedish school system encourages creative and innovative thinking, its social and economic systems eventually clip anyone who dares to stick out from the crowd. Being something other than lagom carries with it a stigma and garners people’s distrust. It’s not kosher to say you’re the best at something. And it’s not kosher to show too much enthusiasm or demonstrate too much success or self-confidence. But I do want to say that I notice the trend is changing. People, especially the younger generation, are tired of conforming. People are starting to recognize that there is no integrity in doing something if the goal isn’t to "go big" and excel. People want to live unfettered. And I think that’s a natural human desire. We weren’t created to be just like everyone else. 

In this next part I’m going to make a lot of generalizations that will probably ruffle some feathers. Just remember, I hold both a Swedish and an American passport. 

A lot of Swedes see Americans as arrogant, aggressive and boastful, and they would be right. We are arrogant, we are aggressive and we do like to brag. To use an illustration from high school, Americans are the Homecoming King and Queen, and Swedes are the wallflowers (until they’ve had a few drinks - then they’re just as loud and obnoxious as the rest of us). But one could also turn it around and argue that Swedes are passive-aggressive, frustrated pacifists who, in the politically correct frenzy to be inclusive and tolerant, end up stunting their own growth potential and ability to deal with feelings and conflict. I’m being unnecessarily harsh here, but I say this to make a point. 

It is, in my opinion, inevitable to grow resentful towards others who experience success and feel satisfaction in their pursued walks of life when you yourself have settled for less than the best. I find it ironic that every Swede I’ve ever met dreams of visiting or living in the States. When I ask why, the most common answer is that it’s so big. You see, people who live lagom lives dream of breaking the mold and living large. They outwardly scorn our American indulgence and inwardly covet our ”pursuit of happiness.” I’m certainly not holding our pursuit of happiness on a pedestal, because quite frankly, I think it’s pretty obvious that our gross mismanagement of said pursuit has come back to bite us in the rear. But there is something life-giving about being free to take risks, about knowing what you bring to the table, and not being afraid to say so. Self-confidence is a gift, and one that needs nurturing. I’ve struggled my entire life to gain mine and I finally feel like I’m making headway. Ironically, it’s happened during these three years that I’ve been living in Sweden. Go figure. 

In conclusion, one should always be truthful and objective about one’s own abilities. It’s not okay to brag, especially when there is no substance to one’s claims. But one shouldn’t be afraid to excel at something and be aware of it. If you want something, then pursue the best version of that something. If you don’t, you will never be satisfied, and you’ll live the rest of your life wishing you hadn’t bowed to Mr. Jante. 

My somewhat haphazard guide to Prague

I just came back from a four-day trip to Prague with two of my colleagues, Johan and Christina, and 26 of my students (class SP10D). We had a fantastic stay, everyone had fun, and we were all a happy sort of exhausted on the long bus ride back. I’d been to Prague once before, in February, and vowed I’d come back, but in the spring. So that’s what I did, but of course spring was a month delayed, as in most of Europe, so I have to go back one more time. Darn. 

Prague is so beautiful, it’s almost too beautiful. You can’t do much more than walk around, wish you could absorb it all and wonder why Kafka was so freaking depressed. (It took me forever to get through The Trial and upon completion I vowed never to read another of his books again, but Johan (Swedish teacher and literature extraordinaire) advised me to read it as a work of ironic humor. So maybe that's what I’ll do when I retire.) I suppose too much beauty could cause depression though. It desensitizes you if you live in it too long. 

The hostel. Prague Square Hostel (http://www.praguesquarehostel.com/). Austere in terms of amenities and breakfast, but superb in its location, just a block up from the Astronomical Clock. Much taller than it is wide, you’ll get a workout climbing the stairs several times a day. But you’ll need it, because Czech food is very heavy. 

As in all hostels, one meets a fascinating variety of people. Among others, there were three American ex-pats working the reception desk. Curiously, I’m always surprised to meet Americans who live and work overseas, forgetting that I’m an American living and working overseas.

The food. I’m all about meat and potatoes, but the Czechs take it to a whole other level of heavy. The typical dish is goulash and dumplings (potatoes and flour). Super yum, but it will constipate you if you eat too much of it. Luckily there are lots of other types of cuisine available, Italian being the most prevalent. 

We (Johan, Christina and I) went to a restaurant called Pasta Fresca! (http://pastafresca.ambi.cz/en/#index) that Christina had discovered on a previous visit, and boy was it fresca. The pasta is made from scratch in situ and we never had to wait more than 15 minutes for the food to arrive. Everything we ate was superbly done. All three of us loved it so much that we went back twice, the third time with the whole class. 

I want to revisit Prague just to eat there again. I’m in love with everything about it: the design, the food, the service, even the restrooms were delightful. Located a block up from the Old Town square, it’s very easy to miss. The entrance is a really narrow hallway and to get to the restaurant level you must go down three flights of stairs into the cellar. The design is modern, warm and sophisticated - I want my dining room to look exactly like it (someday, if/when I have a house). 

Another place we discovered was Architects' Club (http://www.lunchtime.cz/klub-architektu/english/#obecne). You’ll get traditional Czech cuisine here, and it’s really really good. This is also one where you need to take the stairs down to the cellar. Very sophisticated and elegant in its design, and like I said, the food was fantastic. I ate the best goulash and dumplings I’ve ever tasted. 

My colleague Christina is a fanatic of Wienerschnitzel. Everywhere we go, she must find a restaurant where they serve this. Happily, she was recommended a restaurant called Kolkovna (http://www.kolkovna.cz/index.php?language=en) that reportedly served the best schnitzel in the city. It is also recommended by the Michelin guide for serving superb local Czech cuisine. How could we resist? 

The place is reminiscent of a London pub and it was completely full - always a good sign. The three of us decided to go all out and order three courses. As an appetizer, Johan and I shared a Caprese with mozzarella made from buffalo milk and a Carpaccio. Probably the best I’ve ever tasted. 

Then we both ordered sausage as a main dish. I’m not much of a sausage person, but I figure while in the Czech Republic, eat as the Czechs, so I hunkered down and ate three very tasty sausages. Amazing food, but I will not be eating sausage again for a while. It was borderline to being too much (and I can EAT!). 

Despite being full, I ordered Bavarian Cream with fruit for dessert, and it was amazing. 

Christina of course had the Wienerschnitzel and was in heaven for the rest of the evening.

The sights. It’s not easy avoiding the tourists traps, but I think we did well overall, with one exception. 

The Astronomical Clock is beautiful and ancient (built in 1410). People will flock and wait to see the thing chime on the hour. Not much happens (the 12 apostles peep through two windows that open), but I guess it’s something one should see when here, just because. The clock tower is a must. You get an amazing view of Prague from the air and the climb up the tower will give you some nice exercise. :) 

The city is known for its art and music and a concert by string quartet is a must. There is a ticket office in the Old Town Square cathedral that specializes in classical and jazz concerts. You can also buy tickets to an array of other performances as well, but be careful. Johan and I and two students went to see highlights from the Swan Lake ballet and it was a serious disappointment. Two of the three male dancers were definitely past their prime (and left me wondering if they’d ever even had a prime) and the rest of the dancers weren’t much better. The choreography was lame, the theatre uninspiring, and the music came via speaker, not via live orchestra. Total disappointment. However, to be fair, the girl who danced the main role of Swan princess was fantastic. Definitely in another league from the others. I wonder how all of the backstage politics played out there....

In my opinion, the Church of Our Lady of Týn is the most beautiful cathedral in existence. I love gothic architecture and I think it looks so mysterious and haunting. During my first visit to Prague, my mother and I went to an evening mass there and I remember thinking that this must be the most beautiful interior I’ve ever seen. Everything was in black and gold; even the stone walls were black. This time I went back and to my disappointment, the whole interior was white (the black and gold fixtures were still there, but the walls had been whitewashed). Or maybe they’d always been whitewashed and it’s just my memory playing a prank, but still. 

Klementinum, a complex of concert halls, is where we took the whole class to see a classical music performance. A string quartet with organ played famous pieces by Vivaldi, Bach, Mozart, Dvorak and Smetana. The music was beautiful and the venue equally so. 

You can’t be in Prague and not cross the famous Charles Bridge to the other side called Malá Strana. This is where all of the embassies are located as well as Prague Castle. Johan and I took the students up to the castle complex mostly because we wanted to hear them complain about having to climb all the stairs (I jest). It’s hard not to be impressed by the towering Saint Vitus Cathedral. It’s built in Neo-Gothic style and is quite elaborate in its spires and stained glass windows.

It’s upsetting that we’ve lost our reverence for beauty and timelessness. 200+ years ago, people built things to last, and to last beautifully. Now we just want everything in steel and glass and up in two weeks, thanks. Nothing we build and praise now will be left in 100 years. Whatever happened to vision? 

Theresienstadt (or Terezín as its called in Czech) is a concentration camp from the second World War.  It was my first time visiting one and it was hard to absorb. Almost everything was left exactly the way it was during the war, and it was all a bit haunting. But worth a visit. 

Our last stop before going home was the HUB. This was especially cool for me. The HUB is a meeting place for social entrepreneurs. People who don’t have their own offices can come and work and meet other people, network and collaborate on socially innovative projects, etc. The first HUB opened in London 2005 and now there are 40 HUBs around the world, and 50 waiting to open. We got to meet Lucie Lankasova who works at the HUB and has her own social business (an urban garden). Social entrepreneurship is the next big thing. We’ve lived through the industrial age and the information age, and now we’re transitioning into a social innovation age. Business as usual is no longer sustainable and people are needing to find better ways of doing things. I’ve been learning a lot about social entrepreneurship during the past year and I suspect that it’s going to play a large part in my future. Check this out if you’re interested: http://www.the-hub.net/

That's all folks!