After the Swedish elections in September, the biggest evening paper started the campaign “we like different” as a response to the fact that the far-right political party the Swedish Democrats got 5,8% of the votes and seats in the parliament.* An honorable campaign, but one that also hides the real dilemma.
The problem with the “we like different” is that in general, it’s just not true. We do not like different. We like that which is familiar, and by defining ourselves as people who like different, we don’t have to admit to ourselves that we do get uncomfortable and nervous in front of people different from us.
We talk about that we are ok that the pizza guy is from Armenia and that the taxi driver is from Somalia, but how many of us consider these people our friends? Most of us like the fact that they are over there, doing jobs we don’t want anyway. We say we like to travel, but when we go to Thailand or Greece we live in expensive hotels and meet other tourists. In Phuket there is at least twenty swedish restaurants, with swedish chefs. On the radio they play the exact same music every day and we get stressed if we have to listen to music we are not used to. We all wear the same kind of clothes so that we easily can recognize people like ourselves. Our homes look the same and our political parties has never been closer in terms of opinions. Never before has internet and our economy made it so easy to find new things, new music, travel to new places and connect with people in other countries, but most of us watch the same tv-programs, listen to the same music and read the same magazines. Group behaviour is one of the strongest social traits that exists.
The fact is, we mentally resist everything new. It is hard when our habits gets challenged, when we are forced to deal with the new. Almost always we choose the easy way out and we feel reliefed that we don’t have to talk to the guy making our pizza. The person behind the counter is not a human being, but an object. Someone we make a transaction with. We give money in exchange for goods or a service, and then we go home and interact with people we already know. And the higher the tempo gets in society, the pressure on us increases, the less willing and open we become to accept the different and new. We only want to meet people who are different from ourselves if we can choose when and how, if we can control the setting, and that happens very seldom.
One of the benefits with Couchsurfing is that it makes it easier to get into contact with people from other cultures, to really start to relate to someone and understand their reality. To see the person and not only the role they fulfill.
The downside to Couchsurfing is that most members are like you. So you get to spend time with people with the same style as you, same opinions as you, the extrovert, well educated and liberal. Just like you.
Sure, that is a bit simplified, we are not all as narrow-minded as it sounds, and I have nothing against the campaign as such. The problem though, comes with our definition. When swedes beat their chests, proclaiming themselves the worlds most equal country you stop seeing your own limitations. You miss the fact that Iran has more University-educated women than Sweden. When we exclaim the politically correct “we like different”, we no longer have to take that step to actually meet the person, to really challenge ourselves to try something new. When we brag about our democracy we ignore how hard it is for new ideas and new political parties to actually take part in the debate, to get media space, the same media running this campaign.
What happened to Junilistan that got 16% of the votes in last times election for the european parliament? And what about the Pirate Party that got 7% in this times EU election? Who gave them media space for this years national election? Who helps The Feminist Initiative reach out with their opinions?
It is simple. Sweden is equal, so we have no need for a feminist party, we have a strong tradition of privacy and personal integrity so we don’t need the Pirate Party and since we have limited space in media, we just don’t have time for Junilistan (they were denied media coverage because they don’t have any seats in the national parliament, an election they don’t even run for given that they are an European parliament party only).
We are already perfect, so we have no need to let in new ideas and opinions.
But if we are so tolerant and like different, how did the Swedish Democrats end up in the parliament?
Is it shameful for the country or just an expression for a country that is not as perfect as it wants to project? That a lot of people do prefer a homegenic country?
The biggest problem we have is that we are not willing enough to be honest with ourselves and eachother, to admit that they self image we want is just not true. That no one, including the established parties are to scared to debate these issues, for fear of being labelled racists, that others will misunderstand and form opinions about us?
We are too afraid to admit that the labels we use to describe ourselves has nothing to do with whom we really are. What we really feel. That our outer and inner world is not as black and white as we pretend it to be.
As long as we hide behind these labels, choose the easy way out, we will never really start to like different. Not really.
I can say out of my own experience that it is tough to try new things, to embrace the different, to expand your horizons. In the beginning it is really hard, but it gets easier over time and finally it becomes your natural way of interacting with everything in life.
When I went to India for the first time it was a shock. A Long time ago I had horrible taste in music and was uncomfortable around people who were different from me.
You don’t have to do something about it, but I have found a deeper satisfaction in things that demands something out of you, a challenge to my habits and way of thinking, and it started by admitting to myself that I was not as tolerant and open-minded as I thought I was.
After writing the text about Hunter Valley the other day, about my years in the restaurant industry a lot of old memories has come up to the surface from that time, from the years at the Student Union’s pub in Västerås.
How much mad fun we had, the craziness.
We where all a bunch of happy amateurs that during a few years had the chance to run a restaurant with a million dollar in turnover.
When we got there we had no idea what we were doing, we had little experience. We were young, untarnished, ready to take on the world, filled with passion and energy. We learnt from eachother, listened with awe to our mentor and guru, Erkki, that owned the restaurant that we shared the kitchen with during daytime. He got to laugh and cry daily from all the brilliant ideas we tried, from all the stupid mistakes we made.
We re-modelled the house, the bars, the kitchen, without asking for permission, be spent thousands on things that were completely useless, organized huge parties and sold thousands of beer and drinks, some of which actually even tasted good.
I designed a bar despite having no prior experience building anything and then watched the contractors build something completely different. I learnt the hard way that Psychology Majors and carpenters speak different languages. Next time I’m hiring a translator.
We sacrificed our souls for that place. We learnt about ourselves, got to know eachother. We had obscene amounts of beer, ate innumerable baguettes and sometimes we even studied. In the end we didn’t even loose that much money as you might think, some years we even made a profit.
Several of us continued a few years in the industry in other places, but no other place could be like that place and today we all do other things.
Those years was a learning experience that taught us more about life than you can ever understand from reading our resumes and we who did it together will always be connected somehow. When we recruited replacements we never looked for what they knew, we chose those with that same passion, that glow.
We learnt that the important thing in life is not what you do, but who you do it with.
I wake up 04.58. Still remembering the dream.
I have returned home. Back to my old life. I’m back at my old job in a meeting with my manager. I remember those things I want to discuss from before I left, re-reading the notes to try to explain. I sense old feelings showing up, trying to put together the words in front of me to figure out what they are all about.
When I open my mouth to try to explain, it’s completely empty inside. Not a word comes out.
I stop. My lips are parted, the words are resting on the tip of my tongue but nothing gets said. It is empty. The air is thick, you can sense the expectations.
But nothing comes out.
Suddenly everything seems so irrelevant.
I exhale and realize there is nothing to say. That which once was no longer matter. It’s gone and will never return again.
Every week since then has been like a year. To try to re-create all this is like talking about something that happened when I was eleven. That wednesday at the dining table, when something felt extremely important. My entire world.
But now, I’m 66 years old and what happened when I was eleven is no longer significant. You have already moved on, long ago. Old hurts I have long ago forgotten, happy moments is happy memories from a time that has long since passed. I am no longer who I was then, never will be. That person is gone.
I am here right now, always will be. This is the oppurtunity for a new start, a new life. An oppurtunity not to miss, a chance I’m not going to miss.
I can’t change other peoples memories, what they think and feel, what they think about me, about things that has been.
But at least from my point of view, everything is forgiven and forgotten.
From my point of view, this is a brand new start. A brave new world. Without thoughts about how things should be. Without expectations about how things are.
A brand new start.
One of the best things to do in Australia is to drive around in the wine regions and drink free wine.
When I started working for the Student Union’s restaurant in my hometown Västerås (where I went to Univeristy) a bunch of years ago, I didn’t really like beer or wine and I was also a vegetarian, so most of the food was off limit too. But instead of finding that stuff boring, rather it increased my interest in food and wines. I started trying everything, experimenting to find my taste and as time went by, I learnt to enjoy most everything. In the end I had spent almost five years working in the industry, in all kind of places doing all types of different stuff like bartending, cooking, managing and serving 400 Irish coffees in one night at the Stockholm Beer & Whiskey Festival, before moving on.
Wine I started appreciating during the many wine tastings we had, when I found out how different wine can taste and how tastes change when you mix it with food.
Together with four collegues and friends we took a five week distance course at the Restaurant University in “Grythyttan”, which mostly focused on viticulture (the craft of growing wine) and wines. The lectures we had was mainly wine and spirit tastings and was by far the most interesting lectures I had during my University days.
You realize fast that, like with most stuff in life, you can spend the rest of your life learning about wine and still not learn everything. So when you have the oppurtunity to drive around among vineyards and taste hundreds of wines, talk to interested employees at the different places and listen to their specialties, you just don’t want to miss that. Wine will never again be just something you drink, after an experience like that.
Hunter Valley outside of Sydney is mostly famous for their white Semillons and unfortunately they don’t get the really good red Shiraz wines that I prefer, like the full-bodied, spicy varieties you get in South Australia, but that is probably good since most bottles usually cost around $20-25. So it can get expensive fast. Despite using the same vines and grapes, the climate and soil makes the Shiraz more medium-bodied which completely changes the taste. Even the same type of wine can differ in the same valley because of the micro climate and variations in soil and rain. Wine growing is very much a matter of skill and intuition paired with some luck trying to wait for the perfect day to harvest the grapes to get the perfect wine. You want as many hours of sun possible but sudden rain can easily make the end product loose much of it’s complexity and taste or even completely ruin it.
Another sad thing is also that most of the varieties you taste is impossible to find in Sweden, since only vineyards that can guarantee a certain quantity each year are allowed to sell to Systembolaget, the government owned stores. And to carry it home is a bit of a pain and to send it by mail easily double the price.
Still it is a great way to spend a few days, taking the time to drive from vineyard to vineyard, learning about the craft and finding out what types of wine you really prefer.
I’m sitting hee and trying to write, trying to get something down on the paper, but nothing interesting wants to form in my mind. All I can think of is to do something else, that everything I say is boring and meaningless. I lack the motivation to just sit down and just do it.
During the last days plenty of stuff has popped up in my mind to write about, but when I sit down to write it, nothing feels very relevant. It’s like the anxiety you get when you have a test, that well known feeling that cleaning the stove with a toothbrush until it shines, suddenly is very important. But I know that it is just an excuse to get away from something that needs to be done. Unwilling to actually get it done. The feeling that makes you leave the important and difficult stuff to last, thus giving you time to figure out thousands of things you think you should do first, although knowing all the time that none of them are very important. It’s just that it is easier to do them than to deal with the real problem.
It’s like that in our relationships too. Everything we do. We polish the surfce, whine about bullshit, fight about small shallow problems just to avoid dealing with what’s important.
All this focus on the surface is to avoid going deep. To dare to open ourselves up to the challenges we face. That’s why it is so much easier to watch movie after movie instead of turning the tv off, forcing ourselves to realize that we don’t have anything to say to the person next to us. Every night was just the same. Cook, eat, movie, go to sleep. Despite me loving to watch movies, after a while it just leaves a feeling of emptiness behind. That was what it used to be like, but nowadays I don’t seem to be able to tolerate that kind of empitness for very long. It becomes overwhelming almost immediatelly. We find all this small things to get caught up with so we don’t have to face that we are too scared to be really honest with other people and ourselves.
That’s why I sit here, by the dinner table with a black screen infront of me, writing about writing. Because I want to write, but I’m to scared to do it. And that is why I haven’t written that much on the blog lately.
When we no longer dare to be honest in all we do, we shut down our inspiration, cut the motivation at it’s root. I feel generally bored, a feeling we learn to mean that we need to find something fun to do, but what it really means is that I have shut down, I avoid to feel and to be. It means to look for somewhere to run so that I don’t have to be open and present in everything I do.
When we have shut down, closed the door, it’s easy to just let time pass, to let life go by without us noticing. We are bored, uninspired and boring, but you can get used to even that state of mind. After a while it’s normal.
At least until you actually sit still for a while, refuse to get up and clean the stove with that toothbrush, just to make something clean even more clean. If you stop for a moment you can actually recognize what you’re trying to do. Then you have the oppurtunity to be honest with yourself.
Suddenly all of this gets written in six minutes.
Creativity is not a trait we have to learn or train. It’s the state of mind we move into, or rather return to, when we stop lying to ourselves. Stop running, stop choosing the simple. When we step up to the challenge to not move until I’m done.
When we do that, suddenly we have something to say to that person next to you on the couch. It’s not that there was nothing to say earlier either, we had just forgotten how to do it.
The question we should ask ourselves when we are bored, lacking inspiration, when everything feels meaningless is not what to do to change the situation, rather it is what are we trying to avoid, what it is that we have become to comfortable to take care of.
I started this text writing about The Rocks in Sydney. About the tourist trap, The old houses, CBD, Central Business District, and the boring skyscrapers that look all the same in every city in the world. I could just as well have been in Kuala Lumpur, Singapore, San Francisco or New York. Men and women in the same kind of clothes. Same kind of jobs. Snorting cocain at sterile Stureplan clubs. Blondes with fake body parts and too much make up. The tv-series Entourage might be entertaining, but walking around in this polished world where everyone try to project that they are Perfect and Successful make me panic. Everyone can figure out that these people are just as desperat and confused as everyone else, trying to find something real to hold on to. Cultures where women wear Burqa gets blamd for being backwards, while praising the western way for being so indivdual and free, but for some reason everyone wants to look exactly the same anyway. Diversity becomes another word for choosing between brands of soda. Equality means everyone should be the same. Who we vote for is only about what side of the line we where standing when someone put that line down.
That’s why I erased the part about The Rocks. About Sydney. Maybe it will show up later.
But I don’t think so.
This story is worth watching, save your money and do something good at the same time. Win-win situation!
I haven’t written for a while. The week before leaving the United States was a bit full and I rather spent my time hanging out with my friends than writing here. Now, I’m in Sydney with my sister, with a lot of more time on my hand, but I’ve been pretty lazy since coming here.
Yesterday I met up with a bunch of Couchsurfers and watched my first Rugby game. The Grand Finale in the Australian Rugby league, played between two Sydney teams, the Dragons and the Roosters.
An interesting event, and if you are unsure about your masculinity we are lucky to have Rugby to show us what a real Man is. If you are still hesitant after seeing fit, brutal men throwing themselves into a wall, head first, holding a ball, you get a bit more information in the break in the form of commercials.
The one who has to prove his manliness must be the one who is most unsure of it.
But, it is natural to doubt your masculinity, after all, it is just a mental construct. An illussion, a social contract on how to behave so that no one mistakes us for something we are not.
And it is very important that no one misunderstands us.
The paradox is that the only real man, is the one who is neither a man nor a woman.
Only himself.
When the world is experienced as more and more threatening and insecure we vote old nazis like the Swedish Democrats into parliament and polish our male image.
A black and white world is easier to handle than one full with nuances.