Stockholm Syndrome

Curiosities, musings, and general miscellany from the demented mind of an expat Canuck…
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Posts Tagged ‘Travel’

All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go…

Wednesday, November 11th, 2009

A few hours from now I’ll be wandering the airport, surrounded by tense faces and eager travelers, some going home, some running away, some with little  more than a few changes of clothes and a toothbrush readied for a short business-related jaunt; some, like me, starting a new adventure, a new life, a trans-Atlantic flight being all that separates them from the anxious, welcoming arms of a loved one; for some, a new chapter; in my case, a long-awaited sequel.

The past week has been filled with organizing, packing, culling, repacking, farewell Facebook messages, coffee dates, promises of staying in touch; staying close whilst being far apart, separated by distance and time zones but hoping, at least, to hold on to the old familiarities while experiencing the new realities. Seeing friendly faces that, in some cases, I’ll never see again. Seeing some that I will miss every day, some that will forget, move on, relegating our shenanigans to fuzzy remembrances and sepia-toned memories. Leaving behind family, friends, challenges, successes, regrets, annoyances, the good, the bad, the ugly; some memories that I wish would still feel recent, fresh, ageless; and others that taunt and torment no matter how many miles I run.

A few hours from now I will be one of the anonymous airport masses, wandering aimlessly though duty-free temptations and overhead announcements, jostling though the throngs of tourists, shifting restlessly on uncomfortable lounge seating with stale kiosk coffee and the inevitable screaming child(ren) running amok nearby. I’ll think of who and what I leave behind, the lives I’ll peripherally hear about, the disconnect I (we?) will feel, despite our best efforts otherwise. I’ll quietly bid farewell to these Canadian shores, staring out over the dark sea and focusing on my version of The New World. And several hours later, after a fitful sleep, questionable meal options, dank recycled air and (again) those inevitable screaming children, I’ll bound off the plane, off to a new life, and into the arms of my wonderfully patient wife. The day’s finally here, I’ll finally be there, and we’ll be together… finally.

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21 Days…

Wednesday, October 21st, 2009

In exactly 21 days (and three hours and 37 minutes) I will walk onto a flight in Toronto, bidding farewell once again to the Great White North, and jet off for a new life, new adventures, and new experiences in a foreign land. After a brief stop-over in one of my favourite European playgrounds, I’ll arrive in Sweden, for what is to be my second – but most eagerly anticipated – stint in the land of blondes, snaps, ABBA, surströmming, the midnight sun, centuries-old architecture, staggering cultural fare, diacritics and diaeresis and badly mangled rikssvenska (on my part, at least); but most importantly, I will finally, after a year in frustrating exile in my homeland, be rejoining my phenomenally awesome wife, and our equally awesome hedgehog (igelkott), for all the trappings and opportunities that Swedish life has to offer.

21 days… 21 days to sort out what I’ll bring, figure out how to jam everything into the impossibly inadequate luggage allowance range, bid farewell to my city, my country, my friends and family; 21 days, as many sleepless nights, until I’m there, we’re there, together at last. What opportunities lie ahead? What challenges, what experiences, what blunders and missteps and fumbling attempts to ‘grasp the concept’ and integrate into the Stockholm scene do I face? No idea. But that, in my mind, is part of the fascinating adventure.

So why is this blog, soon to be filled with ramblings and bombast and moderately incoherent attempts to understand this new life, entitled “Stockholm Syndrome?” For one, it was the most obvious choice - I’m surprised no one else had snagged the  name. The term was also coined the same year I was born – seemed like an interesting coincidence. But really, it is not meant to denote any nefarious intent or undue burden. I am held captive – or more accurately, am captivated - by new experiences, new culture, new places and buildings and societal oddities and history and gastronomical fare and art and language and surprisingly similar modes of etiquette. I spent 6 months in Stockholm last year, and only scratched the surface. In 21 days, and for how long thereafter I as yet don’t know, I want to see it all, experience it all, understand it all – and, over time, identify with it all.

Baxter the hedgehog

Baxter the hedgehog

So no, there really isn’t a succinct focus to this blog. It will be the product of my functionally insane, pseudo-ADD riddled brain, of a wide-eyed, people-watching, lanky, camera-toting Canuck having the time of his life. (And, it should be noted, there will be many – many – posts about Baxter, the African Pygmy hedgehog, a recent expat from Canada as well, and soon to be the most popular, most photographed, hedgehog in Sweden. Maybe Europe. Hell, maybe the world.)

Stay tuned (actually I really wouldn’t recommend it) as there will be more to come.

21 days… 21 days…

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