So I've come to realize I'm not writing as much about my Swedish experience as I would like to.
This doesn't come from the fact that nothing is going on, or that I'm bored. On the contrary, I'm enjoying myself immensely. So much so in fact, that I've almost developed a bitterness towards all that is going on in the US right now - this ridiculous media soap opera of an election, the collapse of the world economy, the greed, the lack of accountability among the rich and the resulting royal fucking of the working class families, the fact that we put something like gay marriage at the forefront of our nation's issues when we can't even afford to educate or medically treat the nation's citizens. It saddens me to have to say this stuff, but as in any governing organization, be it a company or a country, when shit goes undeniably and irreversibly wrong, you start over. Something that will never happen in the self-indulgent bureaucratic shit show that is the US government, until there's a coup.
Wow. I didn't even want to write ten words about that stuff, but alas it feels good to get that off my shoulders. *climbs down off soapbox*
The guy who lived in my apartment before me was a co-worker of mine. He was leaving the company after a few years and the apartment was made available to me.
In Sweden, it's next to impossible to get an apartment because once someone moves into an apartment, they never move out. Rent control in Sweden, much like that in San Francisco, keeps people in their apartments forever. Thus when I got a place, I was the luckiest man on the face of the earth. Women wanted me, men wanted to be me.
To buy here however is much MUCH cheaper than in SF, though it doesn't offer that much more benefit over renting since in the city, since socialism dictates that you don't really 'own' where you live, you 'own a share' of where you live (similar to a co-op in the US).
You earn equity as you pay off a place, but Swedes don't really care about having equity in anything since it doesn't really benefit them in any way. They don't borrow, so they don't require equity to borrow against. Their tax rate is really high and includes everything, so getting a tax break doesn't seem all that grand an aspiration.
Mortgages are offered based on what you have in your bank account and your salary, thus credit reports don't include your entire credit history of all the credit cards you ever owned, every loan you've ever taken out, etc. I mean, it may, but since the bank controls everything here, they're not trying to coerce you into credit cards in order to make money off you. Your risk is primarily based on the stability of your present income situation and your future ability to pay off a mortgage. Swedes live in a cash-based economy, not a credit-based one, so equity is something cool to say you have and only gives you the benefit of knowing you own something.
The way I see it, the two main benefits that you can get from owning is that you'll probably pay as much in monthly payments to own as you would to rent (not the case in SF) and that if you choose to sell in the long-term, you'll 'hopefully' make some money off it.
That was your lesson in Swedish socio-financial infrastructure.
***
So when this guy moved out, I moved in. It's a beautiful apartment that is actually cheaper than the apartment I lived in in San Francisco. It's also twice the size, very beautiful, and in probably the best neighborhood in the city of Stockholm. He offered to sell me a bunch of stuff that he bought for the apartment...
...including some of the light fixtures.
When I got his spreadsheet of stuff that he wanted to sell to me, I thought he was totally trying to rip me off. Light fixtures?!?!? But knowing that I worked with him for at least another month, I knew he wouldn't try to pull a stupid stunt like that. I quickly realized there was some cultural reason that someone was trying to sell me light fixtures in an apartment I was about to move into.
In Sweden, apartments come without light fixtures. Don't ask me why. They just don't. Landlords are not required to provide them and tenants are free to take theirs with them when they go.
I had light fixtures in the bathroom, bedroom, and living room that my co-worker sold me. However my kitchen and entry hallway lacked them. Those of you that know me, know that I am no Bob Vila. I didn't earn the handyman skills that my dad had. So I spent a lot of my time staring quizzically up at the ceiling, at the wire that was sticking out of it, and at the piece of plastic that sat at the end of the wire.
In the first month, it wasn't a huge issue. The sun was up until 9pm at night so I could cook by the light that came in through the window. However, as it happens in Stockholm, by the end of September I couldn't see shit, so I was eating out a lot and getting fatter, but trying to counteract my fatness by going to the gym a lot.
Realizing that I was just avoiding the inevitable, I grew a pair of balls, overcame my fear of looking stupid in front of the really hot blond Swedish sales clerk, and went to the lighting store just around the corner from my place (yes, that's how easy it was).
So I explained that I had two different plastic outlets in my light fixtures, one with two holes and a pin sticking out, other with three holes. Within minutes, she found me the additional wire and bulb socket, asked me which fashionable bulb I wanted, and sent me on my way. I then cursed myself for being such a big wimp all the way back to my apartment.
I went out for happy hour that night, came home completely drunk, and installed my light fixtures. Some would say this wasn't the smartest thing I've done, but the only way to channel my inner Bob Vila is after a lot of beers and shots.
Lesson learned: I really need to get to writing that blog entry about Swedish women and dating.
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