11 October 2002

Well, we have just concluded two weeks with Steven Needham making a visit to Stockholm. It was cool to see and hang out with Steve. During Steve’s time here, I was staying mostly at the Hilton Hotel. Steve was staying at the Sheraton Hotel. They were seperated by a river. During Steve’s time here, he and I made many observations about the Swedish. So we decided — in true “Lord of the Rings” fashion, that Steve and I each represented a tower…

…an unholy union came upon the Swedish, to wreak havoc in the land of the Nordics. Their decisions would impact the people of Nordic Earth. To the west you had fashionably cheeky Steve, in the tower of Sheraton. To the dark east you had suave Rodney, dark lord of the Hilton…

Anyway, I found an apartment today. It is HUGE! I loved it when I first walked around. It had 2 bedrooms (one of which will be turned into a guest room/office), a living room, and a kitchen large enough to place a table in (where the help can eat — anyone wanna come over and keep this place tidy for me?). Barring any surprises, I think that I will be moving in on Tuesday. It is fully furnished, but I do need to purchase a television as well as a stereo system. And some other house items. I like the furniture and stuff inside, so I am very OK with the apartment. I am so happy about the apartment. It’s beautiful. Now I just need to make internet reservations to accomodate all of you whom said that you promised to vist!

8 October 2002

Well, it has been quite some time since I have mad an entry in the journal. I am surprised that people are actually reading it in fact, as I have gotten a couple of notes letting me know that a journal entry was lacking.

Well, in the past week, Stockholm has been graced with a visit from Steven Needham. He’s someone I used to work with in audit, and now he works all throughout Europe, Middle East, and Africa (EMEA), continuing the jet-setting lifestyle. It’s been pretty good to have Steve here because it’s nice to speak with someone whose first language is English. Interestingly, Steve and I understand each other less than we understand the Swedish. But it’s been fun all of the same.

Journal, let me tell you, life has been all about being hectic and busy. I moved to an apartment-hotel (only for this month) which is located in Akalla. This is outside of Sweden. My residence is far away from everything essential (bars and clubs) and I hate it. I have several names for it including “shanty-town”, “cellblock ibm”, and “crackville”. If I leave the office after dark, I am all about a taxi. And during the weekend, I am all about living in Stockholm at a hotel. Because folks, being surrounded by shanty-people on the weekend — when you are not in a bar — is just not fun.

Well, it’s been busy the past week, but maybe I have a moment to share an experience with you…

Every Saturday that I am in Stockholm I have a routine. I go shopping and buy things in the town center and I end my exhausting experience at Ikki (pronounced E-chi), which is a sushi bar. Every time I go, I am served by Simon the waiter. I order japanese tea, a bowl of miso soup, chicken yakatori, and extra rice. It comes out to 168 Swedish monetary units. Simon gets 200 of these thingomonombers and can keep the change. It is my routine. Like Simon (played by Jack Nicholson in “As Good As It Gets). Well, this past saturday I was seated by someone else and waited on by someone else. The service was horrible. The waitress was horrible. The food tasteless. My waitress kept on ignoring me as she was clippety-clopping around the restaurant in her too-tight outfit, as the winne the pooh ankle bracelet she was wearing was struggling to stay connected around the hoofs that were her ankles. I was angry. Finally, I saw Simon, and I moved tables. Horse Girl got mad at me and she wanted Simon’s tip. So I made a big scene. There was more drama than an episode of West Wing. But everyone knows now that I like routines. Or maybe I am just crazy. Clippety-clop?

Ciao, Rodney

24 September 2002

Hello journal. I often refer to you like you are a person, and I am not quite sure why. If I start referring to myself in the third person, then I am in serious trouble.

So last night Ewa gave me a call out of the blue. That was awesome and it made me really happy because I hadn’t spoken with her for the longest time. She gave me a lot of good insights into how the Swedes work. And actually, I understand her so much better now that I am here. Not that she was some unsolvable mystery before I came to Sweden, but I better understand the cultural perspective she brought with her to the states. So I can’t wait for her to eventually come back to Sweden and she can show me how she experiences Sweden — it should be very different than the way I experience Sweden.

Today’s revelation is about music. Specifically, “Schlager” music or Swedish pop music. While you have probably never heard of it out of Sweden, within the country, once they play Schlager music, the crowd goes wild. They start dancing and singing like they just won the world cup. Except since it’s in Swedish, I still don’t understand it (although I will buy a Schlager CD because it does sound interesting). So anyway, at this one bar I went to, Schlager music came on and everyone was dancing and I thought “what the hell” and just started dancing too. And while everyone was singing what the real words were, I would just make up my own words and sing them in English. So to a techno-ish dancing beat, I made up a song that went something like:

“when i was a young boy, i had a pet fish, and i was happy;

and then i lost him, i was sad and felt really crappy,

i began to look around

my fish was lost but now he’s found

in my fish tank safe and sound

and now i’m happy — woo hoo

blah blah blah…something or other…i’ve found my fish and now i’m happy

yadda yadda yadda…i’ve found my fish and now i’m happy

break it down now…”

So, you can imagine that I am singing this over the Schlager song, and most of the people dancing near me were looking at me. Actually, most were genuinely frightened I believe. One couple looked at me and I just smiled and said “I have no clue what the singer is saying.” They laughed at me. I asked them to translate. Roughly, it was something about love and winds of change and other crap. I personally wish she was singing about my fish song.

I realize that you must think that my life is one big party, filled with clubs, expensive booze, and fancing meals. And you’d be correct, except not really. My goal is to go to every club once and get a feel for what it is like. And I like spending about 30 minutes in them during the weekday because on the weekend, everything just gets very crazy. And according to one of my new Swedish friends, this Friday should be the most interesting time of the month, because the vast majority of Swedes receive their monthly salaries or social payments (if they need such assistance) and of course will spend a portion of partying like it’s 1999. Unfortunately, I won’t be here for the partying on Friday, since I have to go to Paris on Thursday afternoon for an all-day meeting on Friday. However, I will be back on Saturday afternoon in time for evening festivities. However, whether I actually go out depends on how much fun I have in Paris since I have a couple of friends and some workmates I want to meet up with.

Anyway, have to go…time for an “instant meeting” ™, which means that someone has come to my desk and decided that we need to meet in 10 minutes to discuss topics I know nothing about while I create the appearance of being competent through nothing more than reflective listening and delegation. I mean…ummm….ciao.

Rodney

First things first. Some of you have noticed that my journal is in dire need of grammatical correction and spell check. I agree with you completely. So if you’d like to edit my work and send it back to me, send me an e-mail and we’ll make some arrangements. Otherwise, I am just too lazy to appear like I care about the spelling and grammar. So shoot me. Or just read on…

So today journal I got into work late…again. This time I came in at about 11am. I tell you, I am going to stop going out on Sunday nights…it’s just not good. The dreams due to drinking are bizzare (I can’t even go into it here), and I am usually so exhausted that I spend the rest of the week trying to make sure for the weekend, and then throw the schedule all off again beginning on Thursday.

So, I am in the process of making friends in Stockholm. The people I meet are very very nice, and I think that I am going to have a wonderful time here. But none of this has anything to do with what I wanted to tell you. And frankly, I get the feeling that you, dear reader, are tired of you telling me how I am doing and how much I like Stockholm and how much fun and yadda yadda yadda…so…moving on…

I was coming back home for the evening (it was 04.30am) and after gaining entrance into the hotel (they secure the doors at night, lest those non-existent vagrants enter the hotel…but I understand, the hotel is in the heart of downtown), I went to the elevator in order to go to my room and call it a night and get ready for the work day. Once I stepped off the elevator and turned the corner, there were these two women in the hallway talking. They were beautiful. And this is what all your pre-pubscent boys dream about in math class instead of studying trigonometry (except for Rich Bozzuto, he was actually studying). But they started talking Sweden and as you know, I can’t speak Swedish yet. So I just said “good night”, which must be a prostitute-speak for “me love you long time.” You know they are hookers because let’s face it girls, when was the last time you said to yourself “you know, it’s only 4am. How about going to expensive business hotels and troll for guys at least twice our age? You know, just for shits and giggles?” I would say you have a better chance finding the your dream date at www.fatchicksinpartyhats.com than ever having the scenario above come to pass. So, I tried to keep walking, but they asked me if I wanted to see them naked because they wanted to see me naked. So I looked at them and said “girls, as Shakira said ‘underneath these clothes, there’s and endless story’.” “What?” they replied. I responded “yeah, and the story was written by Steven King, you know it’s a horror story.” “What?” one of them said again. Well, being drunk and having my humor go unappreciated, I just told them that I wasn’t at all interested and went to me room. Which was all well and good, until they were outside my door (you know this hooker-recession is creating the need to make new business opportunities by any means necessary). Then I called security. And then I can’t remember anything else because I passed out.

Oh well….just another day in Stockholm…well, I have to back to work now…love you journal.

Ciao, Rodney

Hello all. I wish that I had something and fun to report to you today, but unfortunately I don’t. Yesterday was entirely uneventful. It was quite possibly the most boring night of my time here. Except for those delicious apple martinis I was scarfing down at the bar. Ah yeah, like manna from heaven, these martinis get me through the morning…

Right now the computer network is down. That means that I can get no work done. I would normally have felt good about this and would be the cabbage patch kid in the center of the floor. However, such expressions or emotion are bad in Sweden. I’d be drug off to the looney bin in no time flat. So I revel in my happy by dancing in my chair.

In staring out of my window, looking at the trees and the squirrel who just lost it’s footing and probably plunged to its death, I am starting to realize just how precious life it. Live every moment. Be like the squirrel. Take risks in life, because even though the price might be death, no one wants to live a sendentary lifestyle looking out of windows waiting for squirrels to die, eh? Oh wait…the squirrel has stumbled away. So like I was saying, I’m starting to realize just how rewarding it is to take a chance on something. Do something different. Be like the squirrel. Because even though the price might be death, no one wants to live a sedentary lifestyle looking out of windows watching squirrels stumble around after falling out of trees, eh?

Well, that’s enough wisdom for one day.

Ciao, Rodney

Good evening journal! I wasn’t even going to write an entry today, but I decided that today I had some stories to share. Today I had to move from one hotel to another because the hotel that I was originally staying at was in an oversold situation. So I moved from the Nordic Sea Hotel to the Hilton Holtel. Actually, the Hilton Hotel is quite nice and I rather enjoy it. However, none of this goes to tell the story, does it? So let’s begin.

I had just finished working out, taking a shower and all of that good stuff. However, something that you need to know is that I need to increase my intake of potassium after working out of else I get really tired and fall asleep. Well, I did have access to potassium, so as you imagine, I passed out half on the bed — my feet were firmly on the floor. Additionally, my um….hands were protecting the family jewels. Seems rather uneventful, except when I woke up about 2 hours later, there was a tray of fruit and chocolates in my room (this comes with being a Hilton HHonors Diamond VIP member). This means that someone came into the room while I was sleeping. I can only imagine what they were thinking…they come in and see a tall black man, asleep — fully dressed — headphones on, with one hand down his pants (in my own defense, my hand was in between my pants and my underwear…it was more like the way Al Bundy put his hand down his pants in the “Married with Children” TV episodes). If I were them, I would have taken a picture. I know that they laughed at me. And I would have easily laughed at myself had I awoken.

Why do these things happen to me? My life sometimes feels like a crazy sitcome. Maybe I should write some memoirs or something. But I guess that’s why I have the online journal to document my experiences. Oh well, I’ll write some more later as soon as I get the inspiration to do so…love you journal!

Ciao, Rodney

Well, after a long hiatus. I finally feel like writing something. I have wanted to write something to you journal all week long, but I just couldn’t bring myself to actually write it and post it up to the website because let’s face it, I am one lazy bastard. So now it is saturday night…my resting period before I go out tonight and an ass of myself due to my lack of understanding Swedish.

This week has been about understanding, or my lack of it. Sure, anyone will tell you that the Swedish understand English fluently and completely. But they understand English like the Japanese understand English. That is to say that a good percentage of them hear it, but I am not convinced that they understand it. When those situations have occured over the past week, I have had to remind myself that English is their second language.

Perhaps that was no more apparent than at a restaurant. They didn’t have an English menu, but my understanding was this was one of the best Swedish restaurants in town, so I had to give it a try. I went in, was promptly seated, and that was then the horror began. I ordered a dish involving Elk or something else that stares into headlights. Apparently, to keep the meal warm, they bring a chaffing dish. However, no one told me a chaffing dish was coming. So in his best English, the waiter says “plate on fire”. Without even thinking I jump up and yell “plate on fire?” Everyone is looking around wondering what’s on fire and if they have to evacuate. Then the manager comes running out telling everyone that everything is OK. After the manager talks to the waiter, the manager then explains to me what he meant to say what he wanted to bring me a chaffing dish to place the plate on so that the meal would keep warm while I was eating it. But you could easily see that sense of disgust in the manager’s eyes. The kind of look that wanted me to spontaneously combust. I guess I should have felt embarassed, but I’ve done dumber things, so this was pretty low on the totem pole.

In other news, I am not sure if I mentioned this, but to replace my Armani custom-made sunglasses, I purchased on Gucci sunglasses. I love them, they look almost the same as my old sunglasses, and that makes me happy. Truth be told, I need some happiness right now. I am not getting homesick as much as starting to feel a tad bit lonely. I need to join some clubs or associations pretty soon. That is now people meet around here I guess. Although many at work have advised me of places to go, places to be seen, and things to do. Most places they recommend they determine are too expensive for their budgets, but hey, since I am on expenses, I can go pretty much wherever I want. stockholm is my oyster. But still, it would be fun to know someone else here. So there is some excitement to the fact that Tim Jacobs and Steve Needham are coming to Stockholm at seperate times. A whole month of other people I actually know! Woo hoo!

Well, other than that, things are going pretty well. Work continues to be a big part of my day. And September 11th in Stockholm was barely noticed. It was then I realized that there are some pretty distinct categories of people and how they were affected. You were in one of these groups, in order of severity:

Group A

* Were in the immediate vincinity when the towers collasped and were covered in dust (incl. the pentagon)

* Were a survivor pulled from the rubble.

Group B

* Knew a person or people who died in one of the attacks.

Group C

* Knows someone who knows someone in Groups A or B

It seems unfair to say that there’s a difference between the groups, but there is. If you only have peripheral involvement, then your sense of loss and feelings are different. I wish it were as simple as “national pride” or “collective togetherness”, but it is more complex than that. There are people I’ll never see again through no fault of their own. I asked a couple of colleagues if they were doing something special on September 11th? One said “work. is that special?” The other said “just what I doing last September 11th. My job.” That differs sharply from the responses I got from people who knew people that died.

Anyway, I missed writing in your journal, and I promise to write again soon. Love you journal!

Ciao, Rodney

September 11, 2002

Although not everyone knows it, I was personally impacted by the events of September 11th due to the deaths of a couple of people. But who I want to remember today is Amy Toyen.

So instead of focusing on me and my life, I wanted to take this time today to focus on the life of Amy, a vicitm of the attacks on the World Trade Center. But I don’t want to focused on how she died. Rather, I want to focus on how she lived.

Amy Toyen was a graduate of Bentley College with a B.S. in Marketing. One of the many on-campus organizations she was involved in was the fraternity of Delta Sigma Pi, of which I am also a member. It’s a co-ed business frat (just so I can explain why a female was a member of a frat). And she was a very very devoted member to the fraternity, serving on more board and in more officer positions than I can remember. Her fiancee was also a member of the fraternity. So to most people, this seems pretty cut and dried…someone devoted to the pursuit of making herself a success in business has passed away, but that is only one side of Amy. There’s another side which not many people saw.

Amy might have been a business woman, but she was also an idealist. A person with the ability to think outside of the box, a person who stood up for her beliefs and convictions. A person who spurred others to action when the cause was just. She learned as much as she taught others — about themselves, about her perspective, about her faith (She was also active in Hillel). And that’s not to say that I agreed with her all of the time. In fact, there were many times when we didn’t agree at all. But in the end, there was — and still is — a mutual respect for the ideas we had, a mutual respect for the common values we shared, and a mutual respect for where we agreed to disagree.

The Amy I remember cared a lot about business and being a success. But cared more about being a successful member of the world community. When there was an act of vandalism and biggotry at our school during our senior year, Amy was so moved to action that she was part of a core group of students who rallied the campus in a diversity initiative. She (and others) hung up signs around campus that said “Biggots not welcome”. So moving and profound were her actions that if you want to, you can visit Amy’s spirit today — a drawing of her and the others who led the initiative covers a wall in the LaCava building at Bentley College.

Years ago, there was a campaign sponsored by the United Way called “How Do You Want To Be Remembered?” It suggested that the typical person wanted to remembered as the powerful executive, the superstar athlete or singer, or the genius whizkid. But there was another category of people. They were the people who cared — people like Amy. People who when they pass on, through ill will or other reasons, leave a hole that the world doesn’t quite know how to fill.

I very much miss my friend Amy, but I know I’ll see her again. I don’t know if I quite believe in heaven, but I think there is some sort of after-life. Someone once said “don’t be dismayed at goodbyes. For meeting again, after moments or a lifetime, is certain for those who are friends.”

Amy…until our paths cross again….

Love, Rodney

Friday, 06 September 2002

Good afternoon! Or at least it is afternoon for me. It seems strange, but this is actually only my second Friday outside of the US. I have no idea what I am going to do this weekend. Actually, yes I do. I am going to take a couple of tours of the city over the course of the weekend. I think that I need to do this because I still don’t understand the design of the city. I think getting an understanding of what is where will be a good thing and help me to make sure that I can adjust. I also have my monthly train pass, so I can use the metro system as much as I want. By the way, they call the subway system here the “T”, just like they do back in Boston. That got me missing Boston a bit.

Anyway, I am not sure if I mentioned it and I am too lazy to check, but last weekend in Norway I lost my sunglasses. These weren’t just any sunglasses, but my Giorgio Armani clear shade UV-coated sunglasses. Talk about being pissed off. I was so angry. I am so angry. I don’t wanna talk about it.

It’s only Friday afternoon, but it feels like it has been a long week. Trying to get things done has been a challenge, but I am coping. It will be nice when I finally get my own desk, my own telephone, and my own work-authorised mobile phone next week.

I also have to work on an apartment. I haven’t been lazy in looking for an apartment, but I definately need to make some progress on that. I think that I also need a Swedish social security number or something like that. My understanding is that this number is used for anything important. I will find out how to do this soon enough. In the meantime, I am living in a hotel. I don’t mind staying in a hotel — the one I am at now is quite nice, but it will be good to get into an apartment and do my own cooking again.

Speaking of food consumption, I was eating at a place called “Sushi King” the other day. I ordered a lot of sushi and while I was eating, a pizza delivery guy came in with an order for hte Sushi King shop owner. Now, I may not be the wisest when it comes to customer service, but I think that if you can’t eat what you sell…I actually tried to find out why they wouldn’t eat sushi, but they laughed at me (as most Japanese do when they are presented with a situation they find potentially embarassing) and then ate their pizza. Strange.

To understand Sweden it is necessary to understand that it is a place driven by process and by everyone having a distinct role. People wait in lines for fun, and what should take 4 minutes takes 35 minutes if you for one moment fail to follow the process. On the other hand, they are also very imaginative people and inventive — as long as there is a process for this. But so far, everyone I have met has been really nice, so Sweden continues to get high marks.

Finally, I decided today that I am going back home for the thanksgiving holiday. Out of all of the holidays, that is the one holiday that I do not miss — at all. I don’t mind missing christmas and New Years, but Thanksgiving is the one day all of the family gets together. Now I just have to buy my tickets before the price increases. I am taking American Airlines home — woo hoo! Well…my boss has to approve the vacation time first.

Anyway, I have to visit the other office today to make some introductions (and one of the people in the other office is helping me to find an apartment). So I will write again later.

Love you journal,

Rodney

Tuesday, 03 September 2002

Well, I finally arrived into Sweden on Sunday, after an awesome weekend in Norway! In fact, I was disappointed to leave Norway and I didn’t think that I would be sad — but I was. The people there were very nice and friendly and I spoke and met all kinds of people. I seriously was lethargic and lazy on Sunday morning and didn’t do very much. Even today, I am still weak from the weekend — it included a really demanding workout at the gym that made me sore even as late as last night. I missed my original flight to Sweden, but luckily I was easily accommodated on another flight.

When I arrived into Sweden, it was exactly the same as when I left it during my two day visit for the job interview. The weather was surprisingly warm, the IBMers were nice, and the taxi driver felt compelled to provide me with an education, which I must admit, was quite helpful. He basically outlined what he thought was the state of racial relations in Sweden. He was an Iraqi that moved to Sweden. I asked him how well immigrants are treated (for all of the fancy terms, I guess I am basically an immigrant — just a self-supporting immigrant). He said that basically if your skin is not white, then it is assumed that you are poor or somehow lower than everyone else. He said that I would face an unique challenge — being black on the one hand, but American on the other. He theorized that many people would make assumptions at first, but then ultimately “be put at ease” once they realized I was an American. It’ll be interesting to see how correct he is. To be fair, I’ve met some really nice Swedes. To be balanced, even my guidebook notes neo-nazi activity in Sweden (including an annual rally in Stockholm) and says that some clubs/bars have subtle racist policies at the door. But above all else, I will make this determination for myself. If after some period of time I truly feel that the environment in unsupported, I can just simply apply for a Norwegian work permit and spend the remainder of my assignment there. But above all else, I will be positive about this. We have the same activities and attitudes in parts of the US, and like in the US, I will cross those bridges when I come to them.

As I become used to my Swedish surroundings, I find that I am starting to be able to make sense of words and phrases — basically I am in survival mode. People here speak English very well and I am glad that they do. However, eventually, if I am to learn Swedish, I have to find ways to further immerse myself.

There’s a lot on my mind at the moment and I am still very exhausted. I hope to make a full recovery by Wednesday. I need to get back to the gym and exercising and being active. But for now, back to work!

Ciao and Love You Journal!

Rodney