16. WHEN THE SLEEP STOPS COMING

Jaytheauthor Travel Journal: Uppsala

SERIES MISSION: For the past few months, I have been writing a diary entry to try to process and analyse moments, emotions, and happenings on and off the road. I found that if I let the words come out unfiltered, uncomfortably honest, this practice pulls out many hidden meanings and secrets. I thought these realisations and learnings might help others too, because maybe you too, feel these emotions, and maybe we can both learn from the autopsy of such emotions.

27th February – Uppsala, Sweden

Two days ago I put out a thread online asking if anyone wanted to grab a coffee and tell their story, so I could better understand Swedish culture as a whole. To my surprise, I received over thirty invitations. The majority were Swedes, compared to Stockholm, which was almost entirely expats. I found the difference interesting, but then again, I’m in more of a local city now.

After visiting Stockholm and being stunned by how socially distant people are, twenty minutes after getting off the bus in Uppsala I saw a guy stop his bike to talk to someone walking past. That one small interaction shot fire into my heart. It warmed me so much that I decided to play a game: whenever I walk past someone, I’ll give them a casual smile and see how many smile back. In Stockholm, the return rate was very low. In Uppsala, it was high. Instantly, I felt more connected to the city.

The reason I came here was partly to post my Dear Stranger letters, but more to try to see Sweden properly. It’s impossible to understand a country through its capital alone because a capital creates its own culture. Take London for example, if you came to England and only visited London, your perspective on England would be distorted. London is its own ecosystem. Same as Paris, New York, Berlin. If you want to learn about a country you must go into its belly.

As I’m writing this, I’m in a library drinking a tiny overpriced coffee, waiting for noon so I can board a bus into the middle of nowhere. I really want to experience Sweden, so I went on Airbnb and searched for the cheapest places within a two-hour radius. I found a beautiful farmhouse in a town called Knutby. A few local buses could get me there in an hour and a half, so I thought, fuck it, let’s do it. Also, after talking to so many local people yesterday, I need space and quiet to reflect on all of those moments of connection.

This morning, I learned a lesson.

I made a video explaining the difference between aloneness and loneliness, quoting a lovely girl I met. It went something like: I met a stranger for a Fika and we got talking about aloneness in Swedish culture. She said, “Nobody can witness you fully. You’re the only complete witness to your life. The closest relationship you can ever have is with yourself. I love to hang out with myself. I love having wine with myself. I love dancing with myself. Nobody’s ever going to be able to see all the way through me except me. It’s a sorrow and I have to accept this. Now I have, I don’t need anybody else, I have myself.”

In the video, I used small clips of me having coffee with strangers. This morning, one of them strangers kindly asked to be edited out for personal reasons. The video had already been posted and was gaining traction, thoughtful comments were coming in. The only real option was to delete it.

I can’t lie, I felt slightly irritated at having to kill the momentum. It was a harmless, happy clip. But maybe the irritation came from my own mistake. I hadn’t explicitly asked if she was okay with being posted online. I just presumed it was fine because we’d filmed the clip together. I’ve been doing this for so long, and usually receive positive feedback from people I meet regarding videos, so I assumed it would be okay. No words were spoken in the clip. But assumption isn’t consent.

I knew I’d fucked up. And I knew that if I ignored her request just to let the video grow, I’d be betraying every value this project stands on. So I deleted it and re-edited it without her, resulting in dead traction. It’s better to have dead-traction than a dead heart.

But this event wasn’t the only ethics test. Yesterday, I received a message from a major newspaper in Uppsala asking if they could interview me because they’d seen I was in town meeting locals. I said sure. Then they asked if they could join me during the meetings with strangers. Because my project is built on creating a safe space for honesty, I said no. The whole point is to allow a stranger to say whatever they feel like saying without any stress. It doesn’t matter whether I agree or not, I’m there to listen with respect. I often prefer listening to someone that disrupts my thought pattern, it helps me grow. If I had a reporter sitting beside me, scribbling notes, it would feel like I’d sold my soul to the gods of automation and extraction. I’m not a journalist, I’m just somebody who wants to know more about people’s worlds.

After politely declined their request, I offered to meet them separately for coffee. They refused. They wrote, “If I can’t come to the meetings, then I have nothing to write about.” And when they responded like that, I felt good. One more leech to add to the bucket. I just find it insane that somebody is willing to use me as a tool to get a story from someone else.

This isn’t the first time a journalist has tried to use me. Many have tried to use me for their own narrative. And not only journalists, community leaders, exhibition curators, well-guarded types who cloak intention behind polished smiles and speeches about ‘doing good for the community.’ Not belonging to one particular scene or group helps you see their fangs a little easier, but some are masters at retracting the fangs.

I often find, the bigger the outlet, the dirtier the methods. In Ireland, a kind journalist spent half a day interviewing me. After writing the article, the newspaper put her words behind a paywall and wouldn’t even let me read it unless I paid. The journalist, bless her, screenshotted everything so I could see it. The paper didn’t care. Part of me wanted to call them out, but I know that the majority of major media outlets are the same.

Now that my social media is growing quickly, more and more leeches have been trying to latch on. But doing this for years teaches you something. You begin to recognise who is genuine, and who is holding a barbed dildo behind their back.

Even though I keep encountering people like this, it’s important not to close yourself off. For every one devil, you might come across nine angels. And I don’t believe these devils are inherently bad. They’re just hungry. And when an animal is hungry, it isn’t afraid to use its teeth. Sometimes it’s good to have your integrity tested. If you keep it intact, it reminds you that you’re still on the right path. And the moment you surrender it, the light goes out and the sleep stops coming.

If you would like to support my journey and help me take the Dear Stranger project all over the world, you can donate to the project here. Dear Stranger Donation Box

Much love. - Jay