Seattle drizzle

Walking to the railway station through the drizzle, I was reminded of the Pacific Northwest, and of last Saturday when I wished so much that I could have stayed in bed with a cup of coffee. By the time I got to the station, the rain had intensified and my brown corduroy pants had turned almost black with rain.

A day with the boys in Gothenburg made it worthwhile, though. It has now been two months since I was last part of their everyday lives, and I have missed them so much. At least I am grateful for what we got to share: a thousand metres of swimming at Åby with Eddie, dystopian book hunting with William at the city library.

Coming back to Halmstad alone, I ended up running ten faster kilometres on the treadmill despite my earlier promises of taking it easy on my left knee. But sometimes running is the only way to stay sane and, if anything, the knee felt better after I had finished my run and walked back out into the pouring rain.

Made the cover

Considering all my years as a subscriber and how much I tend to follow the “Monocle trail” on my journeys (or maybe it is Monocle that is following me?), it only felt fair that I finally made the cover.

Jokes aside, these AI-saturated times clearly blur the line between fact and fiction, and when teaching statistics, I find myself depending more and more on generative AI to come up with examples, operationalizations, and workshop exercises. For the students, the obvious question becomes: why bother learning how to use JASP or understanding the reasoning behind the models when AI can give seemingly perfect answers on its own? While I can give good pedagogical answers to that question today, we are definitely on a slippery slope, and it is already very difficult to imagine what the education system will look like five, let alone ten, years from now.

Rise and shine

Falling asleep just as a heavy thunderstorm came ashore, I set my alarm for 5:00 a.m., hoping to bring back some of that winter arc energy of autumns past after all the Bohemian bacchanalia. With the sky still dark, I went for the first torch-lit run of the season, limiting myself to six kilometres on soft trails as I am still having a bit of pain in the back of my left knee (even if it is much better after taking a few days off from running while in Prague).

With my mind still on the dunes of Västra stranden, I went through an insanely long day of teaching statistics. To stop hearing myself talk about significance levels and Cronbach's α, I decided to create a bit of culinary content for the blog, even if it was just dinner for one.

After dinner, it is now back to constructing exam questions and running one last load of washing. Tomorrow, I have decided to stick to rowing rather than running, as Malmö Marathon is only 17 days away now and I desperately need my knee to hold up for those fast-paced 42 kilometres on asphalt.

30A

After crossing the Atlantic twice on the upper deck of the 747, it only felt fair that I ended up in seat 30A at the very end of the bus on my morning flight back to Scandinavia after two perfect days in Prague. With the CFM turbofan engines loud enough to block out any music, I find myself exploring the Hebrew concept of “timshel” (תִּמְשֹׁל), or “thou mayest”, in Steinbeck’s East of Eden: the possibility of overcoming what we inherit and, more specifically, the extent to which we can choose to be good.

With clear skies over central Europe, we are just passing Berlin, and I am reminded again of how close all of this is now that I no longer live in Umeå. Having taken Monday off, the rest of the week will be pretty wild, with different statistics classes between 8 and 17, but it was so obviously worth it.

Last night, sipping a “Madalenha caipirinha” and sharing a molten chocolate cake, I found myself thinking that, much like Steinbeck’s novel, these twenty years of blogging have created almost too many cross-references and layers upon layers. Still, tomorrow remains unwritten, and I am very grateful for having you all along for the journey.

Twenty years

When I composed a blog post to celebrate a decade of writing Rawls & Me back in 2016, I hinted at the idea of continuing for yet another decade, even as it felt almost unfathomable.

Obviously, it is impossible to sum up everything that has happened since, both on a personal and a political level. Yet, throughout, I have kept blogging, as toddlers have turned into teenagers, ultra distances beyond my wildest imagination have been conquered, and Halland has come to replace the High North.

There have been moments of existential bliss but also many foregone futures. Democracies have faltered and new wars have broken out. Still, sitting here in Prague on the rooftop of Grand Hotel Europa turned W, it is with a certain Panglossian optimism that I take on the task of continuing Rawls & Me into the future. Over the coming months, I hope to take you along as William and I travel to Montenegro and then, just in time for Christmas, Linnéa and I plan to cross the Atlantic and make landfall in la France d’outre-mer – or French Guiana to be more specific. Beyond that, the road is just as open as it was ten years ago with plenty left to chronicle.

3x Prague

Election watch

From last night’s election, it is clear that Sweden, like many other European countries, has become sharply divided into two blocs defined by their relationship to right-wing populism, with only a few tenths of a percentage point separating two very different futures.

Indulging in Eggs Royale at the Hilton Atrium in Prague, I started the day with a longer rowing session at the hotel gym, trying to digest all the news from the night. I had been fading in and out of sleep, falling asleep to exit polls showing a clear lead for the Left, only to wake up to see the margin narrow to a single seat at one point. It is now back at 176–173, but the final result will not be available until Wednesday. In any case, government formation is likely to be an arduous task, perhaps even arduous enough to raise the prospect of another election later in the autumn.

Canapés

From champagne under the wrought-iron pillars of St Pancras to bookstore browsing in Prague, Sofi’s and my adventures continue. Revisiting the Museum of Communism and the Výtopna model railway restaurant, both discoveries I made when I was here with the kids in 2024, we have had a charming first day in the rain, although we have both been a bit tired after the short night at Arlanda.

Staying at the Hilton Atrium next to the Vltava (which fortunately seems to have fairly normal water levels despite the dry summer), it otherwise feels a bit like being thrown back to China in 2011, when delayed immigration paperwork led to a few months in hotels, with complimentary lounge canapés becoming my primary source of nutrition. And just like at the DoubleTree in Beijing, the hotel has a slightly too-cold pool, but luckily also a Finnish spa section that more than made up for all those steps in the rain.

Norwegian

For the first time since 2019, when I flew down to Marrakech in the midst of winter, I am back aboard Norwegian. With return tickets going for just 600 SEK, there was an obvious deal to be had and, since last time, Norwegian has started giving out 15 minutes of free Wi-Fi and upped its coffee game by introducing Starbucks coffee. Looking down over Öland and Hanöbukten, Sofi and I have already been up for three hours, having enjoyed an excellent complimentary breakfast at La Girafe (as there were some floor repairs going on at Pontus) and spotted an Italian Brainrot colouring book featuring “Orangutini Ananasini”.

Once on the ground in Prague, I hope to catch up on some of the art museums I missed when I was there with the kids in 2024, and perhaps go for a city jog between the rain showers. I am flying back to Copenhagen already on Tuesday morning, as I have lots of statistics to teach this week, while Sofi will be travelling on to Pardubice, a town famous for its gingerbread, the Cold War-era plastic explosive Semtex, and being the epicentre of Lyra Ekström Lindbäck’s novel Moral.

Once in Pardubice, Sofi will visit a maximum-security prison that runs the same kind of monastery programme she used to run at Kumla, before the Swedish Prison and Probation Service doubled down on repression.

Molom

Taking the first X2000 service of the day from Halmstad, I got to hang out with Sofi and Birgitta in Örebro, walking around a town brimming with election frenzy, each poster seemingly worse than the last. Being the hometown of Örebropartiet, there were plenty of posters with Markus Allard (Sweden’s own Sahra Wagenknecht) pushing for deportation, but at least there was some comic relief from the fictitious party “Kumlademokraterna”.

Before taking the train to Arlanda for our flight to Prague tomorrow morning, we drove out to the 12th-century church in Knista for a joint concert by Sofi’s choir and another choir from Stockholm. Together, they sang songs by Alf Hambe, who was born on the Steninge coast in Halland (forever made famous for its role in my attempts to run Halland Ultra Beach). Now on the train, I am listening to Lars Winnerbäck’s “Vad gör det om hundra år”, praying that Sweden will make the right choice tomorrow.