Tag Archives: history

Historic Sweden: Royal Palace, Skansen, Vasa Museum

Gamla Stan
Sweden’s most well-known exports today are IKEA furniture and H&M clothing, which means my impression of the country is one of sleek modernism. Naturally, Sweden does have a history and is rightfully proud of its past accomplishments, I’ve simply never bothered to learn anything about them. So when I began researching this trip, I was a bit surprised at all the recommendations to see the Royal Palace. To be honest, before this trip, I didn’t even know Sweden still had a royal family. It seems a rather archaic institution to support (the state still funds them partially), though I guess the tourism benefits now outweigh any concerns about the monarchy trying to regain control. (More below.)

Royal Palace Guard

Many of Stockholm’s tourist attractions are concentrated on the island of Gamla Stan, or Old Town. Within these winding, medieval lanes, you’ll find the Royal Palace, the Riddarholmskyrkan Cathedral, the Nobel Museum and more. The Royal Palace entrance fee is a bit steep (150 SEK/$23 for adults or 75 SEK for students), however you do get entrance to three attractions: the Royal Apartments, the Treasury and the Tre Konor (Three Crowns) museum. Photos are not allowed in any of the Royal Palace exhibits, so I had to content myself with taking photos outside.

The changing of the Royal Guard takes place at noon each day, and while it was not as showy as say, the India-Pakistan border guard changing, it’s still fun to watch if you happen to be in the area. One thing I noticed was there were at least two female members, the first time I’ve ever seen women as part of a royal guard. I did a little bit of Googling and couldn’t figure out if Sweden was the first to do this, but at any rate they win points for being progressive!

Female Royal Guard

I jumped into an English-language tour of the Treasury and learned the following tidbits on Sweden’s medieval history:

  • The Royal Regalia includes 5 items (listed in order of importance): sword, crown, scepter, key and orb
  • Tre Konor (Three Crowns) is the name of the original royal castle that was destroyed in a fire in 1697. The Swedish Coat of Arms also includes three crowns on it. Why three? One leading theory is that the three crowns represent the three parts of Sweden (Sweden, Norway and Denmark). That’s right, far from being amiable pacifists, the Swedes were out to conquer everything they could get, especially their neighbors. Another theory is that the crowns represent the three Wise Men, thus symbolizing the divine right of the king to rule.
  • In Sweden, the absolute monarchy was outlawed in 1720. But like a zombie attack, the old kings and queens constantly plotted to regain power again, and did so successfully in 1772. King Gustav III introduced the Union and Security Act to fully restore the royal autocracy in 1789 (when the French Revolution began).
  • Sweden’s queens seem to be more colorful and strong-willed than the kings. My favorite is Queen Louisa Ulrika, who was a pen pal of Voltaire, and highly annoyed by her mild-mannered husband, who was uninterested in getting more power. So in 1756, Queen Louisa Ulrika removed 44 diamonds from her crown and shipped them to Berlin to get funding to stage a coup d’etat. Unfortunately, she was found out, and many heads were beheaded except for hers, since the Queen was more or less beyond the law.
  • The Coronation Robe is ruby red (the color of royalty) with ermine fur trimming because it was thought that ermines would rather kill themselves than get their fur dirty.
  • In 1980, the constitution was reformed such that the oldest child would become the next King or Queen, not the oldest son. That meant Princess Victoria became next in line for the throne, not her younger brother Prince Carl Philip, who was about 6 months old at the time.
  • None of these regalia items are actually used or worn nowadays, other than for ceremonial purposes like christenings and funerals. In those cases, the crown is placed on a pillow.

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Lisbon’s Pastéis de Belém: Religiously Good?

Lisbon, seaside port and the commercial heart of Portugal. For centuries, Portugal wielded outsize influence beyond its borders through a vigorous policy of mercantilism and colonial exploration. From these waters, Vasco da Gama captained the first ships to set sail directly from Europe for India. Other explorers would reach the shores of South Africa, China and Japan. “Look, we have Spain on one side, water on the other. So everyone either has to fight, to conquer, or face the ocean and see what’s beyond,” said our guide, Victor Lamberto, head of Slow Food’s Alentejo chapter.

Unsurprisingly, this thirst for international travel resulted in lots of foreign exchange—in food, in language and in culture. As Lamberto guided us through the mosaic-covered streets and tiled walls of Lisbon, he remarked, “Lisbon has always attracted people from all over. Here, you do not find traditional Portuguese food, but a mix of influences. The Portuguese were the first to take food and flavors from one place to another in a global manner.” Today, the Japanese use the Portuguese words tempura for battered, fried foods and pan for bread, while the African chili pepper piri piri is commonly used in Portuguese cuisine.
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Stuart Franklin’s Political Ecology


Photography: Stuart Franklin

The entry on our school calendar was unassuming and inconspicuous—”Franklin, Journalism.” The description in our student guidebook was even more humble, simply a thin line that read “Stuart Franklin, English photographer.” I glanced at it and the night before, on a lark, I decided to google the name to see Franklin’s previous work. Much to my shock, I soon realized that Franklin was a world-renowned Magnum photographer, the man who had taken the photo of Tank Man in Tiananmen Square. Yes, That photo.

On the appointed day, we eagerly gathered in class, where a bespectacled chap carried himself with distinction to the front of the classroom. “Dr. Stuart Franklin, Political Ecology,” read his first slide. The student next to me poked my shoulder—wasn’t this class supposed to be about journalism? What’s political ecology? Are we sure this Dr. Franklin is a photographer, and not someone else with the same name?

As it turned out, Franklin is a man of many talents, not only a career photographer for Time and National Geographic, but the recipient of a PhD in geography at Oxford University. He now publishes and teaches courses in political ecology and photography at Oxford.

The burning question: what is political ecology? As he defined it, it is the analysis of complex political economic relationships between society and land- or marine-based resources or products. It’s political economy + environment. It’s a network of cultural interactions with the land around them. Food chains and the working conditions of migrant workers are two topics that might fall into this lens of analysis.

Convinced? Skeptical that this is just another newfangled invention of concatenated existing subfields? Regardless, Franklin took us on a fascinating trip around the world, as we looked at slash-and-burn destruction in Indonesia and Afghans fighting in a bread queue, all photographed in pristine condition. The following are some of his thoughts on photography, politics, and the luckiest break of his career.

There was an uprising that spring. A lot of factors were in play, but it was mostly due to increasing flows of information and the large amount of corruption going on. Young people were finally getting annoyed by corruption by people in power, and so they came out to the streets. It was a huge moment for the Chinese to demonstrate, and I asked if I could go to Beijing. My plane ticket was paid for by Magnum, but when I got there, Time put me on assignment and I ended up just staying there.

The epicenter of the action was Tiananmen, and at that point, I had been working as a photojournalist for about 10 years, and I was a pretty hardened war photographer. I knew that I had to get close to Tiananmen, so I found the Beijing Hotel, and I parked myself there.
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Politics in Italy: Electing the Doge

After football, one of the greatest past-times in Italy is bemoaning the state of Italian politics. After all, there is nothing quite like the mixture of sheepish chagrin and amusement one feels when hearing that class-act Prime Minster Berlusconi has been caught with yet another outrageous quip, like “I am a man who works hard all day long and if I sometimes look at some good-looking girl, it’s better to be fond of pretty girls than to be gay.” (You can see the news conference here…and hear the resulting applause from the audience.)

In my anecdotal experience, it seems like Italian voters are tired of the corrupt and ineffective Berlusconi machine, but there is no other charismatic leader who has stepped up to the plate and mustered the necessary votes to sweep him out of power. And thus, he stays on.

Perhaps we should go back to politics as we used to know them. I randomly stumbled upon the method for electing the Doge, or the leader of the Most Serene Republic of Venice (~700-1797 AD). The procedure was as follows:

Thirty members of the Great Council, chosen by lot, were reduced by lot to nine; the nine chose forty and the forty were reduced by lot to twelve, who chose twenty-five. The twenty-five were reduced by lot to nine and the nine elected forty-five. Then the forty-five were once more reduced by lot to eleven, and the eleven finally chose the forty-one who actually elected the doge.

The goal was to minimize the influence of the city’s most powerful families and aristocrats. It certainly seems to spread power more effectively than say, the Electoral College system.

A Foodie State of Mind, Or Damn They’re Strange in Flyover Country

Serious Eats links to the above map of food-by-state produced by the hard working folks at I Can Haz Cheezburger, which is actually a lot more interesting than I had anticipated. Sure, lots of the chosen foods are obvious regional specialties or major crops associated with the state (MA clam chowder, Idaho potatoes, Georgia peaches), and then there are the lesser-known items coming from the (let’s be honest) lesser-known states. Michigan and pasties, is there a large population descended from Yorkshire miners in Michigan? Arkansas and jelly pie, an item invented out of the necessities of poverty, like Indiana’s sugar cream pie? And Colorado’s Denver omelette looks an awful lot like a burger to me, rather than fried eggs folded around diced ham, onions and bell peppers.

But that’s not where the real action is happening. For a few states I had no idea how to pronounce the associated food, much less what it was. (And they say the US is much more homogenous than Europe.) Enter the rad powers of Google:
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Bad Ass Racing: Alba’s Palio degli Asini

What’s furry, recalcitrant, and represents a medieval middle-finger? The Alba Palio degli Asini donkey race, of course!

You see, in 1275, the Piedmont towns of Asti and Alba were at war. On August 10, the feast day for Alba’s patron saint San Lorenzo, Asti attacked Alba and laid waste to the fields outside the city walls. To further cement their victory and humiliate the people of Alba, Asti’s army held a horse race around the Alba city walls. According to legend, the residents of Alba simultaneously held a donkey race inside the city walls, as a thumb to the noses of their aggressors.

Fast forward a few centuries, and Asti began regularly running its famed palio horse race in 1929 after a few decades of hiatus. However, jockeys from Alba kept winning and tempers flared, so in 1932, Asti decided to withdraw their invitation to Alba. In response to the snub, Alba launched its own palio, only staged with donkeys. The cheeky competition parodies the prestigious Palio di Asti, and also marks the launch of the annual Alba truffle fair.
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