Space vs. Friction

Why I'm not ready to go back to Stockholm

I’m currently in London. It’s about 8:30 in the morning and my 15 year old cousin is still sleeping, as he should. This is an ungodly hour to wake up at when you’re 15. I’m already sweating. As you probably know, London is experiencing quite the heatwave. I am actually pretty okay with it as I love the heat and don’t care about being sweaty, but my poor Swedish-to-the-bone cousin is having a rough time. He also insists on wearing jeans, very punk of him. The bus ride home yesterday afternoon almost took him out. I had to scrape him off of the bus seat when we reached Hackney Central.

Mandatory photo!!

I’m kind of at a weird place in my life, but a good one too. I finished school at the beginning of June, and immediately moved to Denmark for my summer job. I spent one week just getting the studio ready and setting up the booking system, and then some days practicing teaching to (new) friends and family. And then I hopped on the train over to Sweden, then Copenhagen, and then flew to London. It’s like I’ve been in constant motion for about three weeks, and to be honest I kind of can’t wait to get back to the island and get into some sort of routine. But when I do (tomorrow, late) it’ll only be about two months until I go back to Stockholm. I really, really don’t want to go back to Stockholm.

Beautiful things

How is it that I so easily fall in love with a place? Just a few days after getting to the island I told my sister “What if I just get a puppy, set up my studio here and stay?”. I genuinely felt that way. Yes, I would hate the winters but I hate the winters anywhere in Scandinavia and so I guess I’ll use the cold months to do retreats in warmer parts of the world. And now, I can totally see myself moving to London. Taking the bus to work, hanging out in one of the many (many) parks, going to the pub with friends. There are parallells between London and LA in my eyes, even though they’re like the estranged twins in The Parent Trap. At first glance, totally different. When you get to know them, similarities appear. Even though there’s definitely a tempo to both places, it’s a flowing tempo compared to Stockholm which feels more like people are in some sort of competition. And people aren’t rude like they can be in Sweden. Loud? Yes. Offensive at times? For sure. But there’s less of “looking down your nose" or blatantly staring in contempt. Instead, say what you have to say and move on.

A (new) friend of mine recently told me about a book she’s reading where the author, a South American woman, moves to Scandinavia and reflects on the language and the movement of the people there. Because we are so few on a relatively large mass of land, we move differently and more freely, she argues. I’ve been thinking about that. At first it seemed strange. To me, free movement is synonymous to southern Europe, Middle and South America, Africa. Rhythmic movement, arm and hand gestures, the usual stereotypes. But maybe this has become the way of moving in a place that demands you take up space, when there are so many around you? In Sweden, there is so much air. So much space. You can take up as much or as little as you want, because no one is there to challenge you. Okay, maybe on the subway at 9 am in Stockholm – but there’s the typical comparison of each person in Sweden getting 38,000m² of land if we were to space everyone out evenly across the whole country. And London, which has almost the same population as the whole of Sweden (9 million and 10.7 million, respectively) gives you 175 m², and that’s if everyone was spaced out evenly.

Speaking of space… (This photo nearly killed my cousin of embarrassment)

I’m starting to think that maybe what I’m actually resisting is the space. In Stockholm, there is space for everything. For your thoughts, your routines, your habits, your solitude. I can easily go a whole day without talking to anyone. That doesn’t happen here, nor in LA or on the island. A woman turned to me after a young guy on a bike risked his life to get ahead of a bus, saying how nothing is ever worth doing something that stupid. A man recommended some great chips when we were having a hard time deciding at the grocery store. The guy who made my coffee yesterday morning asked about our plans for the day and told us to hydrate in the heat. There’s friction. Whether you want to or not, people talk to you, engage you, bother you.

Maybe that’s why Stockholm feels less than exciting. I know exactly who I am there. I know what space feels like. And right now, I’d rather be bumped into.