Communism is a Childhood Memory

In the time I have lived here I have become friends with at least four people who grew up in communist states, only to have that foundation fall sometime in their teenage years. They each come from different countries: Poland, Hungary, Yugoslavia, and Germany. It is so interesting talking to these people who's early memories of communism and the sudden appearance of Western civilization are strangely similar.

Zita remembers suddenly learning more about other countries on the map, like the USA, and the phenomenon of Coca-Cola, fancy cars, and nice jeans which were suddenly available. Amila talks about strict teachers and hard rules in school. Julia remembers certain toys that were common in East Germany, but not in the west, and talks about a united Germany, which is still divided in many ways, and seemingly trying to erase the memory of East Germany. Pontus tells a story about his father smuggling in recordings of Western music like Black Sabbath and Pink Floyd and listening to them on a huge 8-track reel.

What is communism really? Just an attempt to keep the Western world out because they know how easy it is to become greedy in that kind of society and eventually fall into ruin because of it? Perhaps.

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I was at Amila's today. She is one person I'm going to miss when I leave. She's the kind of person I'd love to have visit me in Austin someday... Det är bara att komma... but like she said, it's not that easy. I know.

Pontus is in town for the weekend. He and Werner came over tonight and we drank some Polish spiced vodka and listened to some David Cross. I love the conversations I have with Pontus. He's another person I'm going to miss. I'll just hope that I'm able to come back and visit before too long.

Tomorrow night we're having some people over, and I'll be saying goodbye to a few of them. Pontus goes back to Uppsala on Monday and Victor is leaving to spend the summer at home in Stockholm. After that, he's off to the crazy USA and the significantly crazier L.A. I think he's going to fit in so damn well in the US- he'll never want to come back to Sweden. Maybe he'll come and visit me wherever I happen to be at the time.

There is a nice storm outside. It's raining and there are huge flashes of lightning every few minutes and the sound of rolling thunder far away. I haven't seen many thunderstorms since living here and I really love it- although it makes me a little homesick.

Good night lightning, Good night air
Good night Communism everywhere...