Here’s the key to packing to move to another country for six months: don’t have a lot of shit to begin with.
Also important: Don’t have any fashion sense. When it came time to pack suitcases to prepare to live in Sweden for six whole-ass months, I thought, “Pft. No big deal.” In my head, I always thought of myself as a frugal traveler. I don’t need a lot of shit, a lot of things to take with me. What, am I eating dinner with the duke? (Queen? Premier? Grand Vizier? Whoever’s in charge over there?*) Am I gonna be climbing Mount Whatever and I need my ropes and my parka and my shoe spike clamp things? Nope, all I need is a couple of decent pair of pants, a shirt or two, t-shirts, two pair of shoes (one for running just in case some shit happens), underwear, a toothbrush and I’m off to Fiji… or Peru or something like that. Throw shit in a bag, zip, poof, I’m gone. I used to kind of hope there was an alien invasion or something so that I could show everybody how it was done. “LEAVE IT! JUST LEAVE IT! JUST TAKE SOME UNDERWEAR, A PAIR OF PANTS, A SHIRT, THAT JAR OF PEANUT BUTTER AND LET’S GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!” But in reality, planning what to take to live for six months in Sweden took some time, more than I want to admit. I realized there are clothing-related things to consider. What about the weather, is it going to be cold there? (It’s Sweden, but they get warm weather too, right?) Am I gonna try to work out while I’m there or is this a six-month vacation? Can I wear a Chicago Bears t-shirt there or does the logo mean something offensive? AND WHAT ABOUT THE GRAND VIZIER? I decided the best solution, the best approach, was to start by packing the essentials – not just underwear, socks, t-shirts, shoes, but the clothes I KNOW I’m going to wear. The one pair of jeans I own. The two flannel shirts. The pairs of khakis that still fit. The Chicago flag t-shirt that I think I look pretty good in (if I stand just right, keep my arms flexed and suck it in a little). My new “End American Fascism” t-shirt because, you know. Etc., etc., and a few other things. Next, I moved on to the stuff I thought I MIGHT wear. I mean, I MIGHT wear my blue sport coat and ascot (“Yo, Grand Vizier! Thanks for the invite. Nice party… ooh, look, caviar!...”). A second jacket wouldn’t be bad. Maybe that one “classy” shirt I have in case they suddenly solve the pandemic and we’re able to go to a fancy Swedish restaurant. And, come to think of it, I have a more than few cool Chicago t-shirts that the fine people of Sweden might like to check out. I put all that stuff into the giant, fresh-from-Marshall’s suitcase and realized, huh, I think there’s still some room in there. Which was a surprise. My size 14 shoes alone generally take up most of the space in a carry-on suitcase but not only were there TWO pairs of shoes in there currently, but a lot of other stuff too. I kept going… Leather jacket. More fancy-dress pants. A Dot Day 5K t-shirt. A sweater with a hole you can’t see unless I raise my right arm. A slightly tight Bears cap. The extra running shorts that kind of cut a little too tight in the you-know-where. It all got in. Damn near all the clothes that I own and wear on a regular and semi-regular basis, into one fairly big suitcase. I was both impressed and disappointed. Impressed because, if I had to, I could put dang near everything I own into one bag. Disappointed… because I could put dang near everything I own into one bag. It’s a little humbling, to say the least. The idea that someone could say “Get your shit and get out! No, no, not TWO bags, just the one.” And I could do it pretty easily. But it’s done. Clothes packed. Suitcases zipped. Sweden’s gonna have to be impressed by me for my mind and not my fashion sense. NOTE: There was a lot of stuff that was definitely not going to make the trip. I have clothes that are the fabric equivalent of squatters, random items that have no part in my life, but somehow found space in my closet and dresser and refused to leave. “Hey, Ken, what's up? I’m a purple velour sweater that you’re NEVER going to wear, but nonetheless, I’m going to sit her on the top shelf of your closet until you die. Oh, and if you see red turtleneck in the fourth drawer of your dresser, tell him** I said ‘Sup.’” *I found out that Stefan Löfven is the Swedish prime minister and the leader of the Swedish Social Democratic Party who was chosen for a second term on January 18, 2019. **In my world, a red turtleneck is a “he.” Not sure why. SWEDEN FACT OF THE DAY I’ve been trying to use Duolingo to learn how to speak a little Swedish. I’ve learned the word for beer (ÖL) and sandwiches (SMÖRGÅSAR). I’m pretty much set.
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HallåBecause I'm married to a very smart woman who received a Fulbright Scholarship, we're spent six months living in Sweden and, in particular, Stockholm. Having never lived outside the U.S., I figured I better keep notes. These are those notes. Archives
July 2021
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