Leave your Dancing Shoes at the Door

As I mentioned in my previous post, some things need processing... three months of processing, apparently. No, I'm not talking about a corpus of 10 billion words passed through an 8-layer bidirectional LSTM neural network. I'm talking about Part II of the conclusion to my holiday break that saw me flounce across Ireland, take a breather in England, eat mind-numbingly good food in Norway, and ring in the New Year, Swedish style. Now, three months later, that journey must come to an end so another one can begin. Without further ado, I'll pick up where I left off--arriving in Linköping.

It had long since gotten dark by the time we arrived in Linköping around 17:00, about two hours after leaving Stockholm. This was December in Sweden, after all. I settled into the quiet corner bedroom out of which my 4th cousin so graciously moved so that I might use it. Before long it was time for dinner--a roasted chicken breast and Cajun rice dish, I think... (Give me a break! It's been three months). After dinner, we sat around chatting while waiting for my other cousin--the one who visited Seattle last Spring--to get home from work. By time the time she did it was a little after 20:00. Everyone was tired from walking around Stockholm or working all day, so, after hugs of greeting and an hour of conversation over herbal tea, we all drifted to our own rooms for a good night's rest. And let me tell you: an open window to let the clean cold Swedish air in and a pair of thick wool socks to stop it from stiffening your toes makes for the best night's sleep.

Linköpings domkryka.

The next day we went into town to see Linköpings domkryka and the nearby downtown shopping area. We didn't stay long because of the wind and a party to prepare for back home. The sister and nephews of the 3rd cousin once removed I stayed with were coming to visit. And I'm so happy they did! It was a wonderful evening spent talking, laughing, and drinking wine.

The day after was New Year's Eve, and I was perfectly content sitting around doing not much of anything. It had been a busy year. And I spent the last day of it being markedly not busy. Perhaps that's part of the reason I had a complete freaking melt-down and have had to spend the past three and a half months processing, trying to figure out how best to write about it. So here goes.

For me, the last day of the year is always a particularly contemplative one. It's a time to reflect upon the last 364 days, appreciate the challenges I have overcome, celebrate my accomplishments and the accomplishments of those I care about, and look forward to another year of new goals, new challenges, and new adventures. All of that was derailed by none other than (you guessed it!) anxiety.

I do not blame my host for suggesting I attend a New Year's Eve dinner party a few of her friends put on every year. I do not blame myself for not being more assertive and saying I didn't really feel up to going. I do not blame my host for asking if I was going to change clothes, resulting in my subsequent shame for not having packed a suit, tie, and dress shoes in the 46-litre travel backpack I had been living out of for the last 3 weeks. I blame anxiety.

At times, blaming anxiety can feel like such a cop-out; like I'm shoving things entirely within my own control, onto a medical disorder just to justify my mistakes in hindsight. However, very few moments in my life have felt as out of control as those leading up to and during the Linköping New Year's Eve Bash.

The downward spiral started with my lack of dress clothes, specifically my lack of dress shoes. Of course, I doubt very much anyone cared what was on my feet. But, in that moment, all I could see were the bulky, muddy hiking shoes I'd been wearing for the last three weeks. I tried to laugh it off and made a joke about them being my "dancing shoes," but then immediately realised that I had only drawn attention to my bulky shoes and became even more uncomfortable. Yet I persisted in being polite. So I followed my family and their friends, and then also their friends, and, before long, it felt like I was following half the town to Flygets Hus ("Aviation House")--an old Swedish Air Force officer building converted into a clubhouse used for events such as this--where the other half of town was already partying. Most certainly an exaggeration, but, to an already self-doubt-ridden Neal, the real number of at least 90 was a thousand notably-better-dressed, unfamiliar, foreign-language-speaking people closing in on all sides. The bars of my mental cage closed in until my heart was pounding and I was literally trembling, rocking back and forth in my chair, attempting to curl up in the fetal position without anyone noticing, all while trying to act normal and finish my dessert.

The host of the party must have noticed (from the opposite side of the room) because he came over, sat in the empty seat across from me, and proceeded to ask simple questions, "What year are you in school? What do you study? etc." It was the most brilliant display of perspicacity and patience I think I've ever experienced. The first question took my attention away from the monster raging in my head. The second question was simple enough to have an automatic answer, detailed enough to get me thinking again, and came with enough follow-up comments or questions to start a conversation I was interested in. After five minutes, I was completely calm.

I'm guessing his training as an Air Force fighter pilot had something to do with his ability to identify a panic attack and know how to handle it. My night was certainly much more enjoyable after that, but what worked for me may not work for everyone. So here are a few short term and long term general practices for helping someone through anxiety. And because not everyone is a trained fighter pilot, here's a list of symptoms to help identify panic attacks.

Although I calmed down, I still did not feel up to dancing in my dancing shoes, so I left as soon as the dinner tables were cleared. The rest of the night / year was spent sipping wine and munching on marzipan chocolates in the quiet, calming company of family. There are few ways of ringing in a New Year, that I can think of, that would be better than that.

I left my dancing shoes at the door to 2017 and began the New Year filled with an inner peace. Despite an early rough patch in the dancing surface, my dancing shoes have given me no further trouble. I am hopeful that 2017 will be the year I conquer my anxiety.

To round-off my time in Linköping, my second cousin twice removed came to visit and took me to the Swedish Air Force Museum just down the road. It was fascinating hearing all of his stories and I am so thankful he took the time to share them with me. And to all of my Swedish relatives who I stayed with or who came to visit: Thank you! I cannot thank you enough for the kindness and good ol' Swedish hospitality you showed me. Though my New Year may be memorable for the wrong reasons, my bad experience has helped me grow as a person. So for that, again, I say "Thank you!" I look forward to visiting again (I hope) soon.

So that's it. That's the end of my holiday travels. I won't make any more promises about when my next blog post will be, but I can say that I already have two more in the works. One will discuss my second semester at the University of Edinburgh. The other (much more current) post will chronicle my present adventures through Slovakia and Hungary. Until then, I'll leave you with this picture I took on a hike up Salisbury Crags that was pivotal in helping me overcome the previously mentioned rough patch.

When the world seems to be collapsing around you, it helps to get up
real high so you can see how big and beautiful it actually is.

And, as always...

Stay informed. -NLD

Remembering where I came from

This is it. Finally. Part I of the thrilling conclusion to my holiday travels. I apologise for the long wait. I didn't forget; it's just that sometimes there's a certain amount of processing that needs to happen before I'm able to write one of these posts.

A brief update to address some of the content from my last post: I'm feeling much better now that courses have started back up again. There are still days when I feel quite anxious (yesterday, when I started writing this post, was one of them) but, on the whole, I'm happy, healthy, and enjoying life. I hope to give a more thorough overview of this semester and what I've been up to soon, but first things first: Sweden.

It's been over a month since I left Oslo, late in the morning on 28 December, aboard a train bound for Stockholm. It's been long enough that all I remember from the 5 hour journey is the overpriced-but-not-nearly-as-expensive-as-I-thought-it-would-be sandwich from the lounge car and the sun slipping below the trees as the train curved past a lake. Maybe I slept the rest of the way. I don't know.

Once in Stockholm, it was too dark to see anything but lights and their reflections in the water as we crossed a bridge into Central Station. I wouldn't appreciate it fully until the next day, but Stockholm is built on 14 islands that are part of the Stockholm Archipelago--a geographical feature made up of approximately 24,000 islands in total. Though dark outside, it's hard to forget my first moments in Stockholm. My train came in on Platform 9. The family members picking me up thought I was coming in on Platform 8... across the tracks. Unaware of this, I spent the next 30 minutes or so wandering around trying to locate my family. It took five phone calls, one realisation that there are TWO Radisson Blus, and coming within about ten metres of one another before finally finding each other in the atrium.

I like to think it was just building dramatic tension so meeting would be even more momentous. Although I'm the first American of my generation to visit the Swedish relatives in Sweden, I felt I was merely completing the circle my Swedish cousin started when she visited us in Seattle last Spring. I hope I and the rest of my family make many more trips around the circumference of that circle. Because more so today than ever, it's vital we remember our heritage; remember that, essentially, most of us are immigrants. Whether you, your grandparents, great grandparents or--as in the case of my Swedish family--great great grandparents were the ones to immigrate to America, you/they likely did so because of the hope for a better future that America offered; and, with plenty of hard work, the opportunity for success in any field or occupation, free from discrimination or societal limitations. So let me take this digression to say that this is not the America I see today. Today's America is not my America. President Trump has destroyed it with his Immigration Ban. But for all that my heart and head have hurt yesterday and today, I know that the America I left a mere five months ago is not dead yet. As long as there are those who will stand against Trump, his administration, and his idiocy, there is still hope. Washington Governor Jay Inslee, the thousands that showed up at JFK airport to protest--these are only a few examples of people taking action. Perhaps you're not one to take such actions. So here are some other things you can do: Vote! in upcoming elections if you're American; spread love and kindness and hope; or, like me, remember where you come from, travel, learn about the world, and form connections that prove we will not give in to fear; we embrace the world and everyone in it.

After hugs of greeting, we walked from the station through Stockholm to the hostel we'd stay the night at. I dropped off my bags and then we headed out for dinner. We went to a small Greek restaurant and so did about twenty other people who were there for a company dinner party. Despite the noise, it was still very enjoyable for the good food and conversation.

The next day we were up bright and not-quite-so-early (this being December in Sweden, after all) to see as much of Stockholm as it's possible to see in one day. I feel like we barely scratched the surface. I could spend at least another week in Stockholm. Incentive to go back, I suppose. Anyway, our first stop was the Vasa Museum. Walking there took about an hour because, like I said, Stockholm is built on a series of islands. And there are only so many bridges. I didn't mind. It just meant I got to see more of the city and its beautiful, original architecture. Our walk took us straight through Gamla Stan (The Old Town), the oldest part of Stockholm. Narrow streets and tall, thin buildings on either side, giving way to a large open square next to the Royal Palace looking out over the water. We'd be back to the Royal Palace a little later for the changing of the guard, but the Vasa was waiting.

Taken from City Hall

The Vasa is a Swedish warship built between 1626-1628 by the King, Gustavus Adolphus. During her maiden voyage on 10 August, 1628, it sank before even getting out of the harbor. The reason for its sinking is its magnificence. The ship was heavily armed with 64 cannons, ornately decorated, approximately 52.5m high from keel to truck (top of the mast), and (!!!) only 11.7m wide. The builders knew it would be unstable, but the King ordered it to set sail anyway, anxious to see this symbol of his and Sweden's power in action. The King's folly and the political cowardice of his subordinates resulted in the ship sinking and at least 15 sailors losing their lives. The tragedy of the Vasa lay undisturbed for over 300 years, until it was rediscovered in the late 1950's and then salvaged in 1961.

It now serves an impressive tourist attraction and as one of the best sources of knowledge about ship building and everyday life in Sweden in the 17th century. It also serves, I think, as a reminder: there are those who would see themselves built up to the highest point possible without adequate structure beneath them. We must have the political courage to stand up to them before disaster strikes and everything founders.

From the Vasa Museum we went back to the Royal Palace to see the Changing of the Guard. Not quite the scale of the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, but it was impressive all the same. After lunch we had just enough time for a tour of City Hall. It was fascinating hearing about the history of Stockholm, the building, and the Nobel Prize Ceremony, Banquet, and Dance held there. The most impressive room by far is the Golden Room. The walls are literally covered in gold.

After our tour it was time to head to the car. Then it was just a two hour car ride to Linköping. But I'm afraid the rest of my time in Sweden will have to wait until Part II. I promise it won't be another month before that gets posted. But with coursework starting to pile up, it might be anywhere between three hours to three weeks. I'll do my best. And now let me leave you by urging everyone to do and be their best. Difficult times are ahead and we must all join together with patience, understanding, and love.

Stay informed. -NLD

The Other Side, Dat Vitamin D, and a Recommendation

I'm back in Edinburgh and on the other side!

The other side of a two hour train ride spent not sleeping, despite only three hours of sleep the night before. Instead I tried to forget my anxiety by watching The Impossible. Perhaps not my best decision: my own anxiety over returning to school replaced by anxiety over Ewan McGregor's left eye and Naomi Watts' right leg. But that just means it was a good movie, so I guess my plan succeeded.

The other side of a two hour plane ride spent trying to sleep but unable to due to the rather large man in the seat in front of me, whose snores quite literally nearly drowned out the sound of the jet's engines. At least one of us got some sleep. I wouldn't have been able to sleep much anyway because--lucky me--I was in the very back row in a seat that didn't lean back.

The other side of a 30 minute bus ride spent snickering at tourists taking pictures of ordinary--and, honestly, rather dull--back gardens. I was far more interested in the sunshine Edinburgh welcomed me with. Thank heavens, too! A boy needs his Vitamin D!! Without the beautiful day I came back to, I imagine I would have found it very difficult to get as much done as I did that first day back: getting groceries, sorting through mail and everything I'd acquired during my travels, and, of course, laundry.

The other side of my anxiety... not yet, unfortunately, but it's a work in progress. The main problem is that I'm finding it very difficult to get out of bed in the mornings, to face the course revision and literature review I know I have to do. I could be flippant and say my desire to stay in bed is due to warm blankets and freshly laundered bedding, but that would be discounting the thoughts and feelings of doubt and apathy and the mornings spent saying to myself, "You need to get out of bed. You can do it. 1. 2. 3.," but my body won't budge. So I celebrate the small victories. On Friday I made it out of bed. Saturday I made it out of bed and to the library for about four hours where I did some revision and looked at what I still needed to do for my literature review. Yesterday I made it out of bed, watched two video lectures on Markov Chain Monte Carlo, and revised coursework for three hours. Today I made it out of bed, revised for three hours, and went for a mostly sunny but very windy hike up Arthur's Seat. I've also been cooking quite a bit since I got back. Friday and Saturday I made salmon with a side of green beans and a store-bought split roll. Yesterday I made pork chops with a cranberry, thyme, white wine sauce and a side of baked sweet potato slices. Small victories win battles in the war against your own mind. The forces of anxiety and depression may have had the upper hand coming down from nearly a month of amazing travels, out-flanking me and pushing me into a corner. But I've fought back with positive thoughts, good food, and a departure from my usual self-imposed military strictness.

Keeping the positive thoughts flowing, it's time to recount my Christmas in Norway. I really can't say enough how grateful I am of my family in Norway, starting with my cousin who picked us up from the airport and whose room I borrowed, and then, of course, his parents, who were the most marvelous hosts. Not only did they let me eat their food, they even brought me along to their friend's December 23rd party so I could eat their food, too: barbeque ribs, slaw, potatoes, and the most amazing dessert, karamellpudding. I'm definitely going to have to try making it next Christmas back home.

My family also took me to the Christmas Eve Service at Nidaros Cathedral, where I did my best to sing hymns in Norwegian but much preferred it when just the Nidaros Cathedral Boys' Choir was singing. From there we went home for a short while before going to the grandparents' house for Christmas Eve dinner and celebrations. Pork belly, pork sausages, mashed potatoes, gravy, sauerkraut, red cabbage, carrots, and cloud berries on ice cream for dessert. It was all delicious! But there's one thing I missed--lefse. Lefse has become a Norwegian-American Christmas staple. But in Norway there wasn't a buttered, sugared, potato roll to be found. The true irony, though, goes far beyond lefse. Growing up, all those Christmas Eves at my grandparents' house in Minnesota, I thought that was about as Norwegian a Christmas as you'd find anywhere. Now, having spent Christmas in Norway and New Year's in Sweden, I've come to learn that what I've always thought of as a traditional Norwegian Christmas Eve dinner--some form of cod, meatballs, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, lefse, cranberry-marshmallow salad--is not only almost entirely different from what Norwegians in Norway eat on Christmas Eve, but is actually very similar to a Swedish Christmas Eve dinner. I missed torsk and meatballs all the more.

Apart from having my entire concept of a Norwegian Christmas flipped upside down, other highlights of Christmas Eve include getting a pair of knit wool socks and matching mittens, being on the other side of the customary Skype call between Norway and Minnesota, and spending time with the family that has become such a large part of my identity.

A walk along the Nidelva

Most of the rest of my time in Norway was spent reading, eating more food, and watching my new absolute favourite Netflix show of all time--an Australian television series, Please Like Me. I watched all three seasons (10 half-hour episodes per season) in two days, mostly because it was just soooo good, but also partly because I wasn't sure if it would be on Swedish Netflix. (It was, but now I'm going through withdrawal because it's not on UK Netflix.) It's not for everyone, but if you're looking for a new show that's funny, clever, heartfelt, and doesn't shy away from, but gets real (and perhaps relatable) with issues like depression, anxiety, relationships, coming out, and coming of age, I would highly recommend it!

So that's about it for this post, I think. I can only say again how thankful I am for my family in Norway, for all the amazing food and wonderful memories; for driving me places (including all the way to Oslo!) and letting me stay a night or several. Thank you!

My next post should cover all of my time in Sweden and wrap up my holiday travels. It also, I hope, will herald the end of my anxiety. I feel good at the moment and hopefully I'll be able to keep that up. We'll see.

Stay informed. -NLD

Winding Down, Industrial Action, and Small Oily Fish within the Herring Family

My holiday travels are winding down. Tomorrow morning I leave Linköping Sweden to fly back to Edinburgh. But, wait a minute, Neal, you haven't gotten to Sweden yet in your blog posts. Yes, I know. And I'll get to that. But sometimes one needs to take two steps forward, one step back, and 2,307 steps in a circle pacing the room because you're so anxious about once more facing the responsibilities of being an adult and master's student in Informatics at the University of Edinburgh you won't be able to sleep much until you have to catch a bus at 04:53 to catch a train to catch a plane that will take you to said cause of your anxiety anyway so you might as well do something productive like blog about it instead of laying awake, staring at the ceiling, and beating yourself up over the fact that you've had all this time over the last two weeks to blog or continue editing your novel or work on your literature review due in two weeks or explore the city you're in or do anything besides staring at the ceiling or your phone all day.

Well that took an interesting turn... Yes, I know I'm being too hard on myself. I've done more--a lot more--than stare at the ceiling or my phone for the last two weeks. You'll read all about what I've done later in this post and in the next one (maybe two). But my first two weeks of non-stop go-go-go traveling and sightseeing took its toll on me. So when I got to London (this post), Trondheim (next post), and Linköping (next [next?] post)--cities I've been to before and/or have family in--I was happy just sitting on the couch, watching television or reading a book, spending time with relatives and going with them to events or parties they'd arranged. And when I say I was happy doing those things, I truly mean it. And I'm so incredibly grateful for my family, their hospitality, and being what made this holiday so wonderful. But present anxieties don't care about past happiness. My return to school looms in front of me. So the activities only slightly less exciting than walking through the Magdalen College Cloisters, only marginally more difficult to blog about than my love of J.R.R. Tolkien, only far more restful than walking 17.5km in a single day to see all of Oxford, became activities that took time away from tasks my anxiety feels would have been more productive.

So here I still sit, nearly two hours into working on this post and nowhere nearer getting some sleep before my alarm set for 04:10. But with the two paragraphs above written and exciting words to write about my time in London, I will (I hope) be able to prevent my mind from wandering down any dark alleys. Also, my summary for London will be a bit shorter than those in previous posts, so I bulked this post up a bit with lovely and light topics like anxiety. Onward to positive thoughts and adventures.

Albert Memorial

I left off in The Eagle and Child, where I hurriedly enjoyed a mug of mulled cider and took in the Inkling ambience before making the 15-minute walk to the train station. I typically like to give myself plenty of time for getting from place to place, checking-in, getting to the platform/gate, etc. This time, though, I wanted to soak up as much Tolkien and Lewis brilliance as I could. I left The Eagle and Child at 14:13. My train departed at 14:31. I was on it and on my way to London.

I'd been to London twice before so I'd seen most of the major sights. That being said, London is such a massive city with so much to do I could spend a year there and still not have seen everything I'd like to, which is perhaps why I feel a little bad about not being more industrious. But I definitely needed a few days to relax and recover from the intense travel schedule I followed the previous two weeks. So lazy mornings, afternoons running errands or seeing sights here and there, and evenings in front of the telly were exactly what I needed. The afternoons provided ample opportunity for new experiences: Nearly getting attacked by a swan in Hyde Park, spending a couple hours at the London Science Museum (Fantastic! But two hours isn't enough time), and wandering around a part of London I hadn't been to before. More importantly, those were afternoons spent with my cousin, who I rarely get to see and, as a London resident for the last several years, she provided many interesting facts and insights.

The most exciting experience from this trip to London was trying to leave. Not because I wanted to, but because it was one of the gosh darn most distressing moments of my trip so far. You might think that's a bad thing--anxious me certainly would--but when each new experience helps shape you into a better traveler and perhaps even a better person, you can get excited about the good and the bad. Traveling to my cousin's home in Norway for Christmas was obviously very good. Mayhem at the train station was bad. My cousin and I arrived at the train station only to discover the early train we'd planned on taking to the airport had been cancelled. No worries yet. There was another one in twenty minutes and we'd given ourselves plenty of extra time. The next train came and it was packed so full there literally wasn't room for one more person to squeeze inside, let alone two, each with bulky bags. Now I was starting to sweat. We soon learned that the cause of our distress was several train malfunctions, delaying trains and causing the backlog of commuters and travellers. Even better, many trains were cancelled due to "industrial action and overtime bans." At one point they even said over the PA system--and I quote--"We're not really sure which train will next be arriving at the station. We'll let you know as the information arrives." By this point, we were a little panicked, considering the most undesirable and expensive option of taking an Uber or taxi to the airport. But we were holding on to our one last hope, a train--the last we could take and arrive in time for checked luggage to get onboard--, delayed but not cancelled according to our phones and the arrival boards. The train eventually arrived and the front cars were nearly empty; the rear cars where we'd positioned ourselves, much less empty. There wouldn't be time to run to a front car. It was do or die (take a taxi). As politely and urgently as possible, we nudged our way onto the train and down an aisle. Safe. Standing. And packed liked sardines.

The rest of our trip to the airport and the plane ride to Norway was relatively uneventful. The rest will have to wait. I've written enough to wind myself down. I might even be tired enough to sleep for three hours before I need to be awake again. Rest assured, though my pre-semester anxiety is undoubtedly annoying, it is something I have successfully dealt with many times before in the past. I feel better already after writing all this. Now I only have to remember that, as difficult as the next few months of study will be, the challenge is what drives me. It's when I'm challenged that I feel most alive. And, oh, what a joy it is to live in a beautiful city like Edinburgh! I'm going home.

Stay informed. -NLD