Stockholm Surprise: A Visit to the US Embassy

In the midst of our beautiful visit to Stockholm (recap coming, I promise), I had to make a pit stop at the US Embassy. You already KNOW this is going to be good, right?  And by 'good', you know the experience scarred me for life.

If you have read my previous posts, you know we did a great deal of planning in preparing for a year of travel, including selling my condo.  Despite arranging for the realtor to have signatory power of attorney at the closing, I was informed 7 days prior, that notarized signatures would be needed- not the easiest thing to arrange in a foreign country.  FUN FACT!  You can't use a foreign notary on closing documents.  So, I looked up the website for the American Embassy in Stockholm and saw that notary is one of the 'services' they provide.  I quote service facetiously, because the word conveys a certain amount of, well, serving that was definitely lacking during my visit.

In my mind, I thought a visit to a US Embassy (at least one in a western country) would be a dignified experience.  I imagined elegant offices with sharply dressed diplomats and many foreign languages being spoken.   Sure, there would be some security, but as an American, I expected a polite welcome or at least a knowing nod.

It was so far from that, I honestly thought I entered the Russian Embassy.

Look, I get it.  The 'war on terror' is alive and well and globally, the USA is not the most popular country.  I've lived as a foreigner, so I'm not ignorant of the fact, but this is Stockholm, not Baghdad.  I haven't seen one yet, but imagine a 'Top Ten Best US Embassies' list would include Stockholm.

To my dismay, our visit to the US Embassy in Stockholm was on par with a visit to the DMV- if the DMV had airport-type security and soldiers wielding machine guns.  Come to think of it, I've had more civilized experiences at the DMV.

This is luxurious compared to the US Embassy in Stockholm

There are two lines outside of the security building. One for Americans, one for non-Americans.  I thought that would help expedite things, but no.  They alternated lines (which is fair, I guess, but I had booked an appointment that apparently didn't matter) in which only one person at a time can come up to the window.  Small children in tow?  Too bad, stand back and wait your turn.  

Welcome?  HA!

Once I was called forward, I put my passport up to the window and stated my business.  'I have an appointment for the notary service',  I replied confidently, trying to make eye contact.  The guard stared at my passport and then squinted as he eyed me suspiciously.  'Step back, turn around and lift your right foot to show me the bottom of your shoe', he barked.  'Now, the left.'   I complied with the orders.  After this, I was allowed into the security building where I put my purse on the belt of the scanning machine.  When it passed through, another guard pulled out my iPhone.  'No phones', he said with such seriousness, I almost laughed, but instead nodded solemnly as he handed me a ticket with a number.  He faced me and cleared his throat.  'Now, you must go up the path and into the next building.  Follow the yellow line and don't stop.'  I stammered as I tried to explain that I had someone with me (Perry), but he just pointed to the door and I did as I was told.  

When I entered the next building, another soldier sternly looked at me.  I held up my appointment paper meekly and said 'Notary appointment?'  He pointed to the line of people I should join.  No reply, just a point.  

The US Embassy in Stockholm

When I got to the back of the line, I looked around.  I'll be damned, but it even looked like the DMV.  There were several windows around the perimeter with a crabby looking person on the other side, and in the middle of the room, rows of stackable gray chairs.  There was even a 'take a number' digital read out.  It was run down and smelled of humanity- not the-land-of-the-free-and-home-of-the-brave kind, but of body odor and despair.  The whole place felt anxious and on edge.  

Perry silently joined me and we gave each other the 'What the eff is this!?' look.  Our line was for US passport holders who needed renewal or notary.  Everyone else was there trying to secure visas to visit the US.  I don't think anyone succeeded in the hour we were there.  

NEXT!  We were up.  I explained the seven notarized signatures I needed, and they handed me a bill for $350 (!) and pointed (more pointing) to the cashier window with instructions to pay, then come back and wait for my name to be called. 

The cashier was the quintessential DMV-type employee.  'Um hmm', she mumbled, not looking up.  I slid my bill and credit card over to her and smiled hoping she would look up after feeling this ray of sunshine.  I wanted to ask her if she could recommend an overnight shipping service.  But she didn't look up, so I cleared my throat and asked anyway.  'Uh uh', was her reply to the negative.

After waiting for a bit, my name was called with instructions to go to Door 5.  Once there, I found the notary to be shockingly young, yet weary with an almost, but-not-quite friendly demeanor, as though her disposition was naturally sunny, but nearly extinguished after a few years of working in a shitty embassy.  I signed, she stamped and it was over in less than 5 minutes.  As I was collecting my paperwork, I decided to try again and asked her recommendation for overnight shipping.  She paused.  'We use FedEx, so I guess they must have FedEx here somewhere'.  

The window closed.

In desperate need of a drink, but only 11:00 am, I compromised with strong black coffee at Wayne's Coffee in the city centre.  I searched for FedEx on my phone and found a number for an office at the airport.  'Hallo' the voice answered.  'Yes, do you have an office in the city centre or do I need to come to the airport to ship my documents', I inquired.  'Yes, you can find us at mailboxes', he replied.  'Do you mean the post office?' I questioned.  'No, the store Mailboxes', he laughed.  'Mailboxes, Etc.?!' I exclaimed loudly.

Sure enough, and it was only 2 blocks away.  

We walked in the door, a bit gun shy (pun intended) after our morning excursion.  Rock music was playing and two young men in jeans looked up, smiled and waved to us.   I shyly asked if I could ship some documents to the US.  The next 10 minutes was the complete antithesis to the Embassy experience- super friendly, the two guys joked with us while explaining the different methods to ship and costs.  

Back at the apartment, I laid down for a well-deserved nap and reviewed the day in my head.  With my penchant for living as a foreigner, I once wondered what a career in the State Department would be like.  Exciting?  Glamorous? 

Maybe I'll try the DMV when I get back. 

Oslo: My Spirit Animal?

While the title may be a little cheeky, it’s also meant to be serious.  I’ve wanted to visit Oslo, Norway since I first learned to say uff da, but it’s taken me a while to get here, and with the long wait, more pressure for it to deliver.

Unlike other places in my year of travel, I expected Norway to resonate with me.  Because, like many Americans, I identify with the ancestry of my forebears and in the case of my mother's family, they are descended from Norwegians who settled in the rural farming community of Oslo, Minnesota.  Today, Oslo, Minnesota is a town that still retains strong Scandinavian customs, particularly food.  It's completely irrational (Oslo, Norway being a big city and Oslo, Minnesota being a small town), but I expected Norway to feel a bit like a visit to Grandpa and Grandma’s house- comforting and familiar with a taste of Scandinavia.  That taste, of course, being of black coffee and lefse.  Maybe a side of lutefisk.

Those aren't tortillas, it's lefse dontcha know!

Grandpa and Grandma were practical, hard working Lutheran farmers, but they knew how to have fun.  Grandpa, a ski jumper in his youth, loved the outdoors, playing cards and enjoyed a scalding hot cup of strong black coffee.  The man had asbestos lips!  Grandma was known for her quick wit and piano playing, love of Scrabble and baking proficiency- buns, donuts, cakes and, of course, lefse.

I always felt like their Norwegian heritage was an important influence in who they were as people.  So, while I knew Norway wasn’t going to actually be like Grandma and Grandpa's, I just wanted to experience a sliver of where it originally came from.

Oslo, Norway may have had that folksy feeling before the oil.  Today, the discovery of significant petroleum reserves in the North Sea has made Norway one of the richest countries in the world with the largest sovereign wealth fund approaching a trillion dollars.  After centuries of being known as a country of poor farmers (with a penchant for trolls and gnomes), I must say, go Norge!

Trolls:  creepy or cute?

So, what are they doing with all that money?  Well, they are trying to spend it, but these are practical people and you don't overturn centuries of low-frills pragmatism overnight.

They do have some nice cars.  Tesla is the number one selling auto in Norway (and the second largest market after the US), shocking when you consider the price tag of nearly $100,000.  In a bizarre case of guilt and atonement, while they made their money on oil, they favor electric cars. 

They are also creating amazing buildings.  It’s an architect's dream in Oslo with ultra-modern structures transforming the city on a massive scale.  The Aker Brygge district is one example of this architectural makeover with upscale condos, a modern art museum and high-end restaurants forming a luxurious waterfront cocoon. 

Astrup Fearnley Museum, photo credit Perry Argiropoulos (perryja.com)

Aker Brygge, photo credit Perry Argiropoulos (perryja.com)

Naturally, all that money has brought in investment bankers, venture capitalists and consultants and to house them, a block of architecturally significant office buildings known collectively as Bar Code was built.

Oslo Opera House and Bar Code 

Bar Code building. photo credit Perry Argiropoulos (perryja.com)

:Bar Code building, photo credit Perry Argiropoulos (perryja.com)

After our first day of walking around touring this high-end city, I thought I might have to seek out the ‘real’ Norway in Gjovik, a two hour train ride north of Oslo and birthplace of Grandma’s relatives. 

Traditional travel wisdom advises one to avoid the game of seeking out the ‘real’ in a place.  Everywhere is real and the trick is to accept things for what they are, not what you want them to be. 

After this pep talk, I decided to focus Day Two on people.  Despite the signs of wealth, Oslo doesn’t give off a high power vibe or put on airs.  The Norwegians I encountered are stoic, proud and down-to-earth, much like their relatives in Oslo, Minnesota.  What is it- the cold temperatures and lutefisk consumption?

Engebret Cafe, photo credit Trip Advisor

We stopped for lunch at Engebret Café, which provided a bit of that familiar feeling.  The oldest restaurant in Oslo, it was filled with older Norwegian men eating smorbrod (open-faced sandwiches) and drinking black coffee.  Their voices were low and pleasant with an occasional chuckle punctuating their good-natured conversation.  It reminded me of the men playing cards around the Hoff kitchen table.

Smorbrod

The waitress asked about our plans in Norway and when I mentioned we had three days in Oslo before leaving for Stockholm, she lamented, ‘What a pity, you should get out and see the real Norway instead of Oslo.’

So much for traditional wisdom.  Maybe I should have hopped that train to Gjovik?

Holmenkollen Ski Jump was another favorite, providing a ‘wild soul’ moment.  Even though the season was over, I had the overwhelming urge to tuck into a crouch and ski down the slope.  While the ski jump offers spectacular views, I loved the museum inside even more as it details the history of ski jump and cross country skiing in Norway.  So while the outside looks futuristic, inside is filled with old skis, examples of Rosemaling and photos of families skiing while dressed in national costume. 

Perry is in the lower lefthand corner

Jump?

Holmenkollen ski jump, photo credit Perry Argiropoulos (perryja.com)

View from the top of Holmenkollen ski jump

Old skis and Rosemaling

On Day Three, we did the typical tourist circuit with a Fjord cruise and museum hopping.

Oslo Opera House, photo credit Perry Argiropoulos (perryja.com)

Fram and Kon-tiki museums on Bygdoy, photo credit Perry Argiropoulos (perryja.com)

As I wrote in a recent post, and show in this video, the cruise was freezing, but the peek into summertime island life was worth it.

Island beach cottage, photo credit Perry Argiropoulos (perryja.com)

Photo credit Perry Argiropoulos (perryja.com)

Ferry to Bygdoy, photo credit Perry Argiropoulos (perryja.com)

So, is Oslo really my spirit animal?  Did its traits resonate deeply in my soul?   Maybe not, but Oslo is a very lovely city- safe, clean, livable and her people are friendly.  While it didn't feel exactly like I expected (isn't that life, really?), the reality turned out even better.  

I did get one thing right.  Black coffee and lefse.  Good, strong filter coffee was available everywhere and lefse is available year round in the bakery alongside the sliced bread.  

Turns out, these are my people.

Things I'm Getting Used To

Happy Mother's Day to my mama Shari and all the other moms in my life!

Our high speed tour of Scandinavian capitals is coming to an end soon.

After a boisterous cruise from Stockholm with the hard partying Finns, we are in Helsinki where the weather has been improving in inverse proportion to the cityscape.  Copenhagen, Oslo and Stockholm are lovely cities with Stockholm taking the top prize for 'Outstanding Beauty', but with Helsinki, I think we are getting a sneak preview of what Russia and Eastern Europe will be.  At least the prices are moving in the right direction, so I'll take it.  

Like most things in life, beauty ain't cheap.

A few random musings for your pleasure- what I'm getting used to on our trip so far.

Bathroom Shenanigans

No shower curtain?  No problem.  PS.  This is our bathroom in Helsinki which is enormous compared to Copenhagen.

We have had some of the smallest bathrooms imaginable, but the one where we stayed in Copenhagen takes the cake.  So tiny, your feet are in the shower while you sit on the toilet. You couldn't extend your legs if you wanted to- not that I'm in the practice of extending my legs while toileting!  I remember thinking this is what it's like on a cruise ship, but both of the bathrooms on the two cruises we've taken were bigger.  

Additionally, the sink was so tiny, you couldn't brush your teeth in it, as the cabinet was too low and there was no way to align your mouth to spit.

Interestingly, the Copenhagen shower was a powerful rainforest-style one that was a welcome sight after a long day of walking in the cold and wind.  However, wth no true separation between the shower and the rest of the bathroom, water sprayed on everything, including my dry pajamas.

In Oslo, while the shower appeared to be enclosed, it had a large gap at the bottom of the door which I was oblivious to until I turned around and saw a huge flood making its way towards the bathroom door.  Panic taking over, but with shampoo in my hair, I turned the shower head away from the gap and crouched in a corner against the wall while I feverishly hurried to rinse out the shampoo and conducted the briefest application of conditioner, hastily rinsing that out as well.  

I stepped out of the shower and assessed the damage.  Water was everywhere and there were only two extra towels on the rack.  Perry needed one and I wasn't sure if I should save one for our host, so in desperation, I used my hands as a squeegee and directed the water back into the shower.  FYI, that was gross.  Then, I grabbed a dirty kitchen towel out of the laundry basket and mopped up as best I could.  By this time, I could hear voices, which meant our host had returned.  I hadn't met him yet (we were let in by a friend of his) so I hurried to dress while I fanned the area with my towel.  It felt like I was in an episode of I Love Lucy.

The Chocolate Factory episode!

All of our showers have had some form of water seepage, but I now know how to manage the flooding- short and efficient showers.   I'm reminded of childhood where we had a strict 5 minute shower limit in the morning with five kids using one bathroom.  Back then, I get it, but I've since grown accustomed to luxuriously long showers.  That was the old Paula- Travel Paula takes it in stride.  Ok, maybe with a tiny whimper.  The one bathroom luxury I have been afforded has been heated floors which this cold-footed girl finds so amazing, I'm making it a top priority in any future home I live in.

What am I NOT getting used to?  Bad Floss

I'm trying very hard not to be fussy about toiletries.  Once I use up what I've brought, I'm buying whatever is available.  Except for floss.  Perry and I are die-hard Glide users and we agreed to share to save space (like floss takes up so much space?) but accidentally left it on the cruise to Oslo.  I had a small backup from my dentist, but when that ran out I was forced to use Perry's back up- 'Top Care' brand that he bought for a magic trick.  AWFUL!  The second we got to Helsinki, I ran to a pharmacy where the gods of oral hygiene smiled upon me with a beautiful new box of Glide (also known as Pro-Expert Premium here in Finland).

Being Fully Caffeinated & Carbed

Note the urn of coffee on the shelf against the wall

Here is a bold statement:  Scandinavia is coffee's spiritual home.

Yeah, yeah, I know Italy is famed for its coffee culture, but for strong black filter coffee, Scandinavians are my coffee people.  Coffee is available everywhere and you can order it with your lunch (as opposed to after) without anyone batting an eyelash.  They keep it in an urn on the side where you can fill your cup as many times as you wish.  It's my version of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.  While Stockholm had the most coffee shops and I nearly gave the title to Fabrique Bakery in Sodermalm, United Bakeries in Oslo wins the award for best damn coffee and baked goods I've had on the road to date.   Scandinavia has kept me fully caffeinated, which is happily compensating for any bathroom deficiencies.  

Rocky-Style Traveler Training

When I walked through JFK airport with my backpack for the first time, it was heavy, but manageable if I didn't have to walk very far.  Every time I've picked it up since then, I can' t help but hear the Rocky theme song.   I've lost weight since we left St. Louis, the combination of carrying that heavy pack every 4 days plus walking nearly 10 miles every day.  Most recently, we walked over a mile from the Helsinki port to our apartment and I even declined Teemu's (our host) offer to carry it up the three flights of stairs.  At that moment, I felt like I caught that damn chicken.   

Next Stop:  St. Petersburg, Russia