The last week: Reader's Digest version

STOCKHOLM

I returned late Sunday night from my sojourn to the land of ABBA, Pippi Longstocking and H&M, leaving behind the rain and impending darkness, and re-embracing sunshine and catcalling.

Stockholm could not have been any more different from Barcelona. The people are quiet and polite; gender equality is prized quite highly; dinner time is at 6 pm; the society is trustworthy and trusting of humanity (unattended belongings are left alone, shockingly); and despite all my whining about Catalan, I really could not understand what was happening in Sweden. Also, there is a lot of blonde hair.

I landed on Friday afternoon and took the speedy and environmentally-friendly (apparently their claim to fame) Arlanda Express train to the center of the city. I was surprised by how rural the area outside Stockholm was. Chaz lives in a suburb of the city called Sundbyberg (don't ask me to pronounce it).

We spent most of the weekend walking around the city, which is unbelievably beautiful. Actually a collection of islands, Stockholm looks exactly as I would have pictured it — beautifully preserved old buildings lining boat-filled harbors, with charming bridges and cafes all around.

To brave the cold, we stopped frequently to fika, which means "coffee and something more." The something more can be anything from sexual tension to a full blown meal, though we opted for the local treat, kanelbullar, which taste like the love child of a cinnamon bun and babka. Sunday was coincidentally National Kanelbullar Day, so we celebrated extra hard with possibly the largest pastries I have ever seen.

On Sunday we also ventured to the highest point in the city to take in the spectacular views. It wasn't that clear out, but it was still pretty impressive. See video footage here (scroll all the way to the bottom).

MOMMY!

In a step up from the typical Parent's Weekend, my mom is visiting Barcelona this week. Though I have actually had to go to class during the day, we've gotten in some serious walking and tapas adventures as I show off my new city. Who knows, maybe we'll get a guest appearance on the blog...

UAB, you complete me.

So two tumultuous weeks later, I have a functioning class schedule. Shocking, I know, but true. Here's the final verdict:

• La Guerra Civil y Memoria Historica. Taught by Juanjo and filled with only CASB students, the class is prone to extreme digression, also known as "The World According to Juanjo." We are slowly starting to understand the causes of the civil war though, even if it requires a little Wikipedia on the side.
• Teoria Social. My only UPF class and my first entré into any kind of social theory. On the first day, the professor said, "I'm warning you now — the readings are going to be hard..." he paused, "because they are in English." Discussing them in Spanish alongside my Catalan classmates really throws what I thought was my English fluency for a loop. The material is interesting and the professor is comprehensible, so I don't think I could ask for anything more.
• Relaciones Internacionales. The exact same class as the one that shares its title at Brown, only this way, I get the European's perspective. The professor loves exchange students, PowerPoints and current events. All in all, a win.
• Instituciones Políticas Contemporáneas. My final exam may be taken via email in February, but otherwise, this is the perfect fourth class. Fits my comparative politics requirement, it's in Spanish, the professor is comprehensible, and the other students not at all scary (because they're freshmen). I'm definitely the only international student in the class though, which is somewhat of a novelty. The other day, the professor was recounting various democratic revolutions throughout history and told the story of the United States', though it was with a very different point of view than the version I've been taught my whole life. At the end, he said (in Spanish), "So that's the American revolution, though we have an americana here and she might tell you otherwise." The entire class dissolved into whispers and starting looking around. "¿Americana? ¿Donde?" The girl next to me figured it out quickly. "¿Tu? You are the American?"

Yes, yes I am.

Up next.

We have Monday off from school (Columbus Day perhaps?) and never have Friday classes, so Matt, Paige and I are skipping over to Florence for the weekend. It's a really hard life.