My lecture in Swedish class today was about the official languages in Sweden. Swedish is one of them (duh, you say, but it was only in 2009 that it was decreed to be the official language), and additionally there are five minority languages. Today's lecture was about them, and we listened to a bit of each one. The Very Multicultural Moment came I realized I was getting a lecture in Swedish, while sitting in a building called The English Park, listening while the lecturer (an ethnic Lapp) played us a CD of a reading of 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' translated into Yiddish.
Yes, Yiddish is one of Sweden's official minority languages. Betcha didn't know that!
The others, for the terminally curious, are Finnish, Lappish (many kinds), Romani chib (again, many kinds), and a sort of Swedified Finnish called Meänkieli.
Want more multiculture? How about Sofia Jannok singing 'Waterloo' in Lappish?
Showing posts with label university. Show all posts
Showing posts with label university. Show all posts
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Language notes part 7: A strange moment
Just a quick note, in the midst of finals. I had a odd language moment the other day, courtesy of Joe, my visiting cousins E. and S. (more on their visit later), and the fact that the four of us ran into one of my Swedish teachers from last term, at random, on the street.
Teacher T. (she of the 'we have nothing better to do in Sweden other than compare our hands' incident) and I saw each other and I said hello, then I started to introduce people... in Swedish, because that's all I've ever used when speaking to T... Joe and E. and S. stared at me... And then I suddenly realized that I should speak English, but wait, I had never heard T. speak English, and oh my gosh, what do I do now? What language should I speak? Using English just felt wrong, like it would be cheating or something, and I became briefly (but truly) tongue tied. I think this sort of thing has happened to T. before though, and thankfully she quickly took over and introduced herself to all (of course she speaks English, better than I do probably, don't be silly).
We all talked briefly about Uppsala and the weather, but I found myself switching back to Swedish when talking to T. I don't think I was intentionally showing off — in retrospect I suppose one who is studying something obscure (like Swedish) is glad to when an opportunity comes along to display one's knowledge, however imperfect.
(Quick, someone ask Joe about separation logic.)
Anyway, learning and using a foreign language certainly has its odd moments. I guess I expected it to be more like history or something fact-based — you study it, and then you know more about it, and that's nice. I've never studied/learned something that results in moments of pure disorientation...
Teacher T. (she of the 'we have nothing better to do in Sweden other than compare our hands' incident) and I saw each other and I said hello, then I started to introduce people... in Swedish, because that's all I've ever used when speaking to T... Joe and E. and S. stared at me... And then I suddenly realized that I should speak English, but wait, I had never heard T. speak English, and oh my gosh, what do I do now? What language should I speak? Using English just felt wrong, like it would be cheating or something, and I became briefly (but truly) tongue tied. I think this sort of thing has happened to T. before though, and thankfully she quickly took over and introduced herself to all (of course she speaks English, better than I do probably, don't be silly).
We all talked briefly about Uppsala and the weather, but I found myself switching back to Swedish when talking to T. I don't think I was intentionally showing off — in retrospect I suppose one who is studying something obscure (like Swedish) is glad to when an opportunity comes along to display one's knowledge, however imperfect.
(Quick, someone ask Joe about separation logic.)
Anyway, learning and using a foreign language certainly has its odd moments. I guess I expected it to be more like history or something fact-based — you study it, and then you know more about it, and that's nice. I've never studied/learned something that results in moments of pure disorientation...
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
School daze
Clockwise from upper left: bookmark from the Studies in Arts, Languages, and Theology; Linnaeus bookmark; student government sink scraper (it says "You don't have to take the shit alone" on it) holding a condom from the Condomera, or 'More Condoms' (they do nothing else except distribute condoms at the university); 'hon-han-hen', advertising for the debate about gender pronouns in Swedish; the red thing, a postcard for the government-sponsored sex-ed organization (they distribute condoms both at the university and to high schools); postcard of a moose, with a chocolate from the local cultural museum sitting on it (the chocolate is an ad for their current exhibit about coffee breaks); a postcard for Culture Night with a teddy-bear face reflector and yet another condom sitting on it; a bicycle trail map for the city; yet another condom; yet more chocolates (the square black things saying 'Uppsala' on them).
Monday, December 19, 2011
Language notes part 6: procrastination
"De satt och jämförde sina händer: hans var större men hennes var vackrare."
The object of the lesson was the use of comparative words. T., the eldest of my teachers, read this sentence out loud from a textbook, surely for the umpteenth time in her life. T. is very Swedish (despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that she's part Finnish). T. likes to use the chalkboard and thinks grammar is neat-o. T. gives the impression that she has worked at the University all her life. T. is not above cracking a simple joke now and then for us poor foreigners, but usually she plays it pretty straight.
This time, though, this time she almost snapped. She read the sentence again out loud: "De satt och jämförde sina händer: hans var större men hennes var vackrare" (which translates to 'They sat and compared their hands; his were bigger but hers were more beautiful').
There were a few seconds of silence, during which T. pursed her lips and she appeared to be thinking. And then she said, out loud to the whole class, slowly, her voice dripping with sarcasm (in translation now):
Right, so I had Part 1 of 3 of my final exam today. Part 1 was reading comprehension; Part 2, which I take tomorrow, is writing. Thus, I am reviewing notes about words used for making comparisons. I guess I had better get back. It's been years since I've procrastinated like this for a test. Thanks for your enabling! (that's not a word in English, is it?)
The object of the lesson was the use of comparative words. T., the eldest of my teachers, read this sentence out loud from a textbook, surely for the umpteenth time in her life. T. is very Swedish (despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that she's part Finnish). T. likes to use the chalkboard and thinks grammar is neat-o. T. gives the impression that she has worked at the University all her life. T. is not above cracking a simple joke now and then for us poor foreigners, but usually she plays it pretty straight.
This time, though, this time she almost snapped. She read the sentence again out loud: "De satt och jämförde sina händer: hans var större men hennes var vackrare" (which translates to 'They sat and compared their hands; his were bigger but hers were more beautiful').
There were a few seconds of silence, during which T. pursed her lips and she appeared to be thinking. And then she said, out loud to the whole class, slowly, her voice dripping with sarcasm (in translation now):
Yes. So. How interesting Sweden is. How nice. "They sat, and compared their hands." Oh, yes, how very interesting. "His hands were bigger but her hands were more beautiful." Oh, can it be true? Well, you know it is winter now, in Sweden, and we have nothing at all to do but to sit inside and compare our hands.She sighed. "But the author of the book is from Gothenburg, so what can you expect?"
Right, so I had Part 1 of 3 of my final exam today. Part 1 was reading comprehension; Part 2, which I take tomorrow, is writing. Thus, I am reviewing notes about words used for making comparisons. I guess I had better get back. It's been years since I've procrastinated like this for a test. Thanks for your enabling! (that's not a word in English, is it?)
Friday, September 16, 2011
Language notes part 5: a little more detail
Just to give you a feel for it, I'll describe my class a little more. On the first meeting there were only twelve students, so it looked to be quite cozy. Since it's a class in Swedish, we are all international students of course, and our citizenship/ethnic breakdown went like this: one Japanese, one Chinese, one Somali, one Turk, one Iraqi Kurd, one Colombian, two Palestinians, two Iranians (brother and sister), and two Americans. A Swedish language class that's at least half Middle Easterners is something that seems entirely normal by now.
For the last two years (on and off), I've been taking SFI classes, which met in the evening so that we immigrants with full-time jobs could attend, and to be honest, these classes were sometimes a little trying. It seemed sometimes as though most students in any given SFI class fell into one of two types: 1. People who would rather have been elsewhere, and 2. Germans.
For the last two years (on and off), I've been taking SFI classes, which met in the evening so that we immigrants with full-time jobs could attend, and to be honest, these classes were sometimes a little trying. It seemed sometimes as though most students in any given SFI class fell into one of two types: 1. People who would rather have been elsewhere, and 2. Germans.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Language notes part 4: Back to school
So Autumn is here. Autumn has always been my favorite season: even though I mourn the end of summer's warmth and laziness, I always like autumn's cooler temperatures, and I also (at least as an adult) have liked Back To School time, with its promise of New and Exciting Learning Opportunities.
So far in this Autumn, however, I feel more like hunkering down and hoping that I haven't bitten off more than I can chew.
Gentle readers, I introduce you to one of Uppsala University's students entering in Autumn 2011: myself. Yes, that's right, I am now a Student, with all the responsibilities and privileges pertaining thereto. I am taking a single class, and it's a real mouthful: "Förberedande utbildning i svenska för studerande med utländsk förutbildning," or in other words, "Preparatory education in Swedish for students with foreign education." The class is full time, meets four times a week for three hours a day, and includes plenty of homework and time in the language lab. I pay no money, but receive no official credits that would count toward a degree, as this class really only serves as the groundwork for the next class to be offered in the Winter term, "Behörighetsgivande utbildning i svenska," or "Competency education in Swedish." The intended audience for these two classes is students who have already been admitted to some graduate program at the University, and who, upon completion of these classes, should be able to pass any University class given in Swedish. Or at least, not fail a class based only on language difficulties.
It's been a while now—several years, in fact—since I've been a student like this. I am excited. I am worried. I am already, only one week into class, extremely busy. Should you think to yourself, any time in the next few months, Hey, I wonder what Jennifer is up to these days, the answer is almost certainly She's studying Swedish.
Nu kör vi!
So far in this Autumn, however, I feel more like hunkering down and hoping that I haven't bitten off more than I can chew.
Gentle readers, I introduce you to one of Uppsala University's students entering in Autumn 2011: myself. Yes, that's right, I am now a Student, with all the responsibilities and privileges pertaining thereto. I am taking a single class, and it's a real mouthful: "Förberedande utbildning i svenska för studerande med utländsk förutbildning," or in other words, "Preparatory education in Swedish for students with foreign education." The class is full time, meets four times a week for three hours a day, and includes plenty of homework and time in the language lab. I pay no money, but receive no official credits that would count toward a degree, as this class really only serves as the groundwork for the next class to be offered in the Winter term, "Behörighetsgivande utbildning i svenska," or "Competency education in Swedish." The intended audience for these two classes is students who have already been admitted to some graduate program at the University, and who, upon completion of these classes, should be able to pass any University class given in Swedish. Or at least, not fail a class based only on language difficulties.
It's been a while now—several years, in fact—since I've been a student like this. I am excited. I am worried. I am already, only one week into class, extremely busy. Should you think to yourself, any time in the next few months, Hey, I wonder what Jennifer is up to these days, the answer is almost certainly She's studying Swedish.
Nu kör vi!
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Akut Situation
I know that the meteorologists of SMHI would frown at the suggestion, but it certainly feels like autumn has arrived. Daytime highs have fallen below 20°, rain storms are blowing through every other day or so, and the sheep have gone home for the season. Autumn means students, and students in Uppsala means housing trouble, as evidenced by this translation of the e-mail I received yesterday from the University rektor:
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Heavy, Indeed…
 |
| Jennifer contemplates our proto-dresser. |
Monday, May 24, 2010
Linnaeus weekend, 23 maj
When last I left you, it was Saturday, 22 May: sunny (all the Swedes got sunburnt), warm (more like 25C than 20C), meadows full of wildflowers, fruit trees in full blossom... it seemed as if summer was finally in Sweden to stay. The next day, Linné's birthday, was quite a different affair...The plan for the day was to take a hike along Herbatio Danesis, one of the trails through meadows and along a small river that mirrors one of Linné's famous teaching-excursion trails (another one, Herbatio Gottsundensis, is a forested walk that runs just past our apartment). The walk was 5 km, however, so I opted to meet the group at their destination, which was Linné's other house in another suburb called Sävja. This house is preserved, but the grounds are not, at least not to the extent that Linné's Hammarby is preserved. The Sävja Linné campus has been turned instead into a combination horse riding school and art colony. But I'm getting a little ahead of myself.
The day was noticeably less sunny than the previous day, but it was not until I had been up for while that I noticed how much colder it was (12C). Also, there was a little bit of a drizzle—not too bad, but not great either. Well, this is Sweden after all, and there's no way that they would cancel a walk because of a little cold and rain (not that they would be happy about it, mind you...). I packed up my things and headed out to the bus stop, not putting on my raincoat because it wasn't raining at the moment... and that's when the big thunderclap came, and the heavens opened up. I got completely soaked, just getting to the bus.
The lightning had apparently taken out some electricity south of town, because some traffic lights were out, so it took a while to get down to Sävja. When we got there (classmate Stina had also skipped the walk, and joined me on the bus about halfway), we wandered around a bit in the courtyard, wondering what had happened to our comrades. Eventually our teacher John must have heard us talking, because he came out into the now-gentle rain. "We are here," he said, looking a little grumpy and pointing into the main house. It turned out they had not stopped for lunch, so they were tired, wet, cold, and hungry. But we had our little tour, and heard the story about Linné's dog Pompe for the fourth time in two days, but did also get to see a Fritillaria meleagris (the famous kungsängslilja, a species originally planted by Linné in the botanical garden in town but spread to the meadows in the south), and some nice pressed specimens.
We had a spot of luck, though—that afternoon, a couple of troubadours were going to be there singing songs from Bellman, the famous Swedish song writer, a rough contemporary of Linné. I have heard of him of course but never heard his music performed live, so I was quite eager for the tour to end to get to the music. The wet Swedes, still a little grumpy perhaps, said it was too hot inside the cafe. I went in anyway, and it was really nice. The music is quite fun—besides "real" music, he wrote what might be called popular tunes, some comical, and I partially understood one to be about some students from Stockholm and their adventures at the University of Uppsala. Many of these tunes are still well known, and so there were quite a few of sing-along moments. (The proprietor of the cafe was so moved that he treated the musicians to a beer on the house.) It didn't take long for the rest of the class to come in, and I think they enjoyed it too despite themselves. The rain poured down, the wind lashed branches across the windows, while inside we had candlelight and music and hot coffee... not perhaps what you want from May (it was down to 10C, cold enough to see your breath), but quite fun nonetheless, at least for me, still a tourist in many ways. 
The concert ended—some of the students had left, and the rest went to fetch the car while the botanist and I went back to the main house's kitchen, where we spread out the plants she had collected on the walk, and gave me a lecture about them even though I had not made the trek. So there it is: I've had a genuine disciple-of-Linné experience, getting a private lecture from a botanist in Carl von Linné's own house. I think we can call that weekend a success. Now I just need to finish my essay and pass the class...An odd coda to the day: when we drove back into town, we took a bit of a detour and drove along the river. The botanist in the back seat suddenly exclaimed "Soldiers!" and pointed. Sure enough, stretched out over about four city blocks, probably around a hundred soldiers were sprawled out, with full face paint and even twigs in their helmets (plenty of greenery in this part of town), all with guns, some of them in teams with big machine guns, pointed at the river, some of them wiggling forward on their stomachs across the lawns or pavement. They have to practice somewhere, of course, but it was surely a strange thing to see.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Linnaeus weekend, 22 maj
I've mentioned before that I am taking a class about the life and science of the famous 17th century Swedish botanist Carl von Linné (Linnaeus). The class is web-based, so I had not met any of the other participants, but yesterday and today we as a class went on a couple field trips to various historical sites connected with Linné.Friday, May 2, 2008
Forsränningen 2008
The weather for sista april this year was nearly ideal; warm, but not so sunny as to make it too hot. We got downtown at about 09.00, in plenty of time for the 10.00 start of Forsränningen. Plenty of time before the start, yes, but there really wasn't much time to spare. The banks of the river were already covered solidly with people, but we still managed to get a spot with a great view, in the middle of the St. Olofsgatan bridge. Around 10.00 a large rubber raft came down the river, hovered in the middle of the Fyrisån for a few minutes, then set off a large firework, and the race was on!Bubbelgalopp 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Can't Get Enough Of Your Fika
As Joe mentions, Valentine's Day isn't pushed here as much as it is in the States, but nevertheless, it provided an excuse for another excessive fika, which was held in the Floor 1/2 break room, and spilled out into the hallway, where extra tables were set up with plates of yummy custard-filled tarts and gummy raspberry-flavored candy hearts. Even better, the social committee (the good souls in charge of this sort of thing) had put out vacuum pump carafes of good coffee (that is, brewed coffee, not the stuff from the big black machine). Red paper tablecloths covered the tables, each of which had three or four tealights burning in the ubiquitous glass holders. The lights were turned down low, and a boom box in the hallway blared Barry White and Frank Sinatra love tunes. Posters in the hallway encouraged us to "Take the opportunity to talk to someone new!" (Which I did.) Oo la la!
Really? All this, at 9:30am? Maybe it's just me, but I'm not at my most romantic at 9:30am. It was fun, if a little surreal. Especially when the talk turned to crayfish, and the horrible things that can happen to you if they are not properly purged before you eat them.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Working Conditions Part I
In some ways, the working conditions here are a little different than I'm used to. In Part I of this discussion, I'll cover Creature Comforts.
First, the the coffee break, or fika. Every day, at roughly 10am and roughly 3pm, is fika. Fika may or may not involve snacks. The time of starting and ending is not exact; by some mysterious process, people suddenly emerge from their offices all at once and converge on a common room. This is a time for socializing, and although I have overheard some work-related topics discussed, most talk (at least in my presence) has so far involved odd Swedish customs and foods, the execrable accent of Danes, and the curiosities and absurdities of the US primary elections. By a process probably analogous to the start of fika, there comes a moment roughly half an hour later when everyone suddenly stands up and goes back to work.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
I survive a Disputationsfest
The older universities in Sweden have some interesting centuries-old customs; one of them peculiar to Uppsala, the firing of the cannons at commencement, I have already covered. Another is that the defense of a doctoral dissertation (or disputation), if it is successful, is celebrated with a Disputationsfest.Friday, January 25, 2008
Yes, cannons!
The morning firing of the cannons turned out to be small potatoes compared to the afternoon firing of the cannons (two Krupp models 90 03/33, to be precise, wielded by a volunteer regiment representing the Östersund 9th). This tradition has been carried out for the last 408 years. 87 shots were fired in total, one shot for each graduate, and for those returning to celebrate the 50th anniversary of their doctoral degree, a double-shot. Each celebrant was then entitled to keep the brass shell fired in their honor.
For my doctorate, I was handed a blank piece of paper in a cardboard tube.
I am jealous.
For my doctorate, I was handed a blank piece of paper in a cardboard tube.
I am jealous.
Cannons?!
They take commencement seriously here. And yes, there was indeed cannon fire at 7am. I lost count of how many shots, but more than a dozen. The cannon (a Howitzer-looking thing on an older carriage) was driven right past the hotel while we were eating breakfast.
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