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| Talk,
Martin Algesten,
20 January 1999 | |
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Me myself, I grew up on an isolated farm, outside a really small village in the countryside of Sweden. Just recently I saw some pictures from way back then, and all of a sudden I realized how dangerously close to hippies my whole family were. I should probably be glad that my name isn’t Star or Lotus or even worse. We owned a really idyllic red little house with some land and forest. There were horses, sheep, cats, dogs and some occasional mice. We grew our own potatoes and got honey from our bees. The sun was shining and the barbecue parties were great.
It is only now, when I’ve left it all behind, that I really appreciate it. One thing I discovered that I learned from back then, and that surprisingly many swedes seem to lack, is a simple sense of decency. It seems our repressed way of life in Sweden is actually a substitute, something that easily be mistaken for good manners. Let me give you an example.
Suppose you see a tall guy walk down the pavement with exceptionally large ears that stand out. What you tend not to do is point and say loudly:
"WOW! Look at him, bet he can fly away on those".
No, you would rather wait until he passes and then without pointing, you'd say quietly to your friends:
"If he held a coke can to his ear, he would easily pass as a parabolic antenna. Or if he held one can to each ear, he could be the BT tower."
Now that is good manners - something your parents teach you.
In Sweden people don't point or comment either, but this is out of repression rather than good manners. Obviously, when we think that no one understands us, the true Swede shines through. London is cram packed with Swedes. And most astonishingly, many behave as they were visiting a zoo. They comment on the monkeys, even though the monkeys can hear them, assuming that the monkeys won't understand.
In the last month, my beloved and I have twice been subjected to this rudeness. The first time was in Highbury, Islington. We got exposed to an uptight 50+ being-in-london-on-business kind of Stockholm swede and his company. They actually looked quite embarrassed when they realized that the monkey could understand, and talk. The second time they didn’t even have that decency.
Basically, you happen to be sitting in this restaurant in Richmond. You have ordered the food, you’re having some nice wine and you’re having a conversation in a language you both understand; English. You notice that the neighboring party consists of fellow countrymen. Out of curiosity, you listen-in on their conversation. You realize that they are actually talking about you. Now this is just rude - my mother taught me not to do such things. But when you hear them insulting you and your partner (in this case comparing us to a mug of slime), it is outrageous; such a clear lack of respect is profoundly shocking.
I just hope that Swedes abroad soon realizes that they can be understood, so that the normal Swedish repression spares me from these embarrassing moments.
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