Sailing the Seas of Swedes

Sweet baby girl

2011-09-23T08:27:00.001+02:00

Our New Swemerican

2011-09-01T13:17:00.000+02:00

We had a beautiful little girl two weeks ago and I'm just now getting around to updating my blog (of course). After 39 hours in labor and emergency surgery afterward to remove the stuck placenta it was quite an adventurous birth, but our babe is perfect...eating, pooing, farting, burping, and sleeping like a champ. Since I'm not planning on using real names for my family on this blog I'll have to come up with a good blog-name for her. Being a first-time mom is wonderful, even though I had a nasty case of the baby blues last week and spent a few days drenched with hormones, breast milk, and tears. I'm really thankful that after her dramatic arrival (she came out blue with the cord around her neck twice in addition to the postpartum surgery) she is very healthy and perfect and I've had zero problems breastfeeding.

That's all the news for now...time for yet another nap....zzzzzzz

Ready to pop

2011-08-09T13:56:00.000+02:00

I really don't have much to write about these days other than the fact that I'm very, very, very pregnant. My due date is one week from today...so far this little babe seems pretty cozy in there as I haven't had any real signs of labor yet. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the full moon this weekend!

I've been lucky in the fact that although late pregnancy is no walk in the park, it really hasn't been too horrible for me...I'm not working or running around after other kids and the weather hasn't been overly hot, so there isn't a whole lot for me to complain about. On the other hand, the past month of waking up with only the tough decisions of whether to read a book, eat strawberries in the sunshine, go for a walk (or waddle at this point), take another nap, go swimming, or aimlessly shop for small baby items has not exactly made the time fly by.

I'm really excited to meet our little one though, and just feeling very happy that I've ended up on this random Swedish island with M and our growing family. And to make our life here even more idyllic, we and a few of our neighbors just pitched in together to buy a wood-fired cedar hot tub that M is installing next to the sauna on down by the sea right now:

I stole this photo off the internet but the one we bought is HUGE and fits ten people. Can you say party time?

Crafty stuff

2011-07-07T13:07:00.000+02:00

Well, I've once again been slacking on my blog, but for good reason since the summer has been wonderful, we've been spending lots of time out on the boat in the islands, I was working at a preschool until the end of June, and I've been waiting for a good opportunity to take some photos of all the baby stuff we've been making.

M told me he was working on a baby bed/cosleeper but wouldn't tell me exactly how he wanted to make it...then he surprised me with this ADORABLE bed which is even more adorable because of the fact that we met while I was working on his boat as an environmental consultant looking for dolphins and whales:

Here's a quilt I crocheted...at first it was hard to figure out which colors to choose since we don't know if we're having a boy or a girl, but then it was fun to just go crazy with all the colors:

I was also inspired by M's nautical baby bed to crochet an undersea mobile for the kiddo...M made the hanger from an oak tree in the backyard:

Lobster

Fish

Whale

Clam

Octopus

Jellyfish

I have a feeling that if we have a second child there's no way I'll have this much calm downtime to make so many cute handmade baby crafts, so I'm just assuming these will be for ALL our future kiddos too. Everything is going smoothly with my pregnancy...a little less than 1.5 months left and I've officially crossed over from being "cute pregnant" to "kind of freaky pregnant." Let's just say the next person who jokingly asks me if I'm sure there's not twins in there is getting slapped....

Tongue tied

2011-06-09T10:47:00.001+02:00

I've been pretty proactive about learning Swedish since I met M over two years ago...I spent lots of time studying on my own, patiently listening to Swedish conversations trying to pick out words, watching TV in Swedish, and whizzing through the Swedish for Immigrants classes that are offered here. I'm feeling really comfortable understanding and reading Swedish, almost to the point where I barely have to strain my brain in order to understand everything.

But, there's something about speaking Swedish that is neither easy nor fun for me. The pronunciation, especially of vowels, is SO tricky...you'll end up saying a completely different word if you don't get your ä's, å's, and ö's sounded out perfectly. And I'm starting to admit to myself that I really don't enjoy the feeling of speaking Swedish. In order to sound correct you have to speak way in the back of your throat in kind of a nasally, snobby way, and something about the Swedish intonation reminds me of a disapproving grandmother (not that my slopppy, monotonous American English sounds any better).

Back in Guatemala when I was learning and speaking Spanish, the way the rrrrrr's rolled off my tongue felt fun and badass. The better I got, the more fun it was to speak...almost like salsa dancing in your mouth. I've never had that feeling with Swedish, even as I've gotten better and better at it. Maybe it's just a matter of time...hopefully someday I'll grow to love these exaggerated vowels and nasally "oj oj oj's."

Dragon Tattoo fever

2011-05-31T10:39:00.001+02:00

Okay, I'll admit it....my real excitement for the upcoming Hollywood version of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo movie doesn't have a whole lot to do with my love for the Stieg Larsson book trilogy. I've only finished the first one so far and thought it was an okay read, aside from the fact that I'm really not a fan of graphic sexual violence. The real reasons I'm so excited for the movie are: A) I have a huge and not-so-secret crush on the handsome actor Daniel Craig; B) I really, really, really want to hear how well a bunch of American and Brit actors pull off fake Swedish accents in English; and C) A good portion of the movie was filmed within a half hour drive of where I live, not only in Stockholm but on our neighboring island of Ingarö.

Last fall I spent an afternoon stalking the set of the movie in Stockholm and even though I don't think I managed to catch Mr. Hottie Craig (unless that's him in the second photo), it was still fun to watch them turning this huge rain machine on and off during filming:

Here's the trailer for the movie...not due to come out until December, but by then I'll most likely be ready to find a babysitter and hit the movie theater for a couple of hours:

In other random Dragon Tattoo trivia, the original Swedish title is Män Som Hatar Kvinnor, or Men Who Hate Women. The original title is much more true to the plot, since the tattooed heroine isn't necessarily the main focus of the story, but my hunch is that in order to earn more money they changed the English title to make it sound titillating and dangerous instead of like a book from the self-help section....

What's in a name day?

2011-05-19T20:48:00.000+02:00

A few days ago I opened up my mailbox to find a nice postcard with a picture of roses on it from M's grandparents, congratulating me on my "name day." Turns out my name day was on May 17th (I had no idea), and it also turns out that the modern purpose and celebration of name days in Sweden are an utter mystery to me. The custom of celebrating one day of the year for everyone with the same name originated with the Catholic church to celebrate saints and martyrs, but as far as I can tell (just like all the other churchy traditions here in Sweden) the true meaning has been totally lost and now there's just a lot of extra ink used when printing yearly calendars by adding names at the bottom of each day.

When the big day arrived, I was secretly kind of excited to find out if I was going to get presents or breakfast in bed or a surprise party or some other adorable, unexpected foreign tradition. Turns out the extent of M's celebration of my name day was fulfilled by looking at the calendar the day before and saying, "Hey, it's your name day tomorrow." There were two kids at the preschool where I work who ran up and excitedly congratulated me. That was it. So, as far as I can figure out, the name day is something that old people and little kids get excited over. Hm. I suppose I can't be too disappointed considering the massive parties that are thrown for holidays we don't have in the states, like midsommar and totally insane crayfish parties. I'll just have to remember not to hold my breath the next time May 17th rolls around.

Spring has sprung!

2011-04-25T18:39:00.003+02:00

...and it sure doesn't mess around when it decides to show up! The weather for the past few weeks has been absolutely gorgeous, sunny, and warm....the flowers are blooming, baby lambs are being born, and I'm actually getting a little bit of a tan from spending the past week outside during Easter vacation. It's amazing how much better and happier Sweden becomes when springtime finally shows up. In more good news, the daycare where I had an unpaid internship has hired me to work 20 hours per week, possibly up to 30, through summertime. It's a huge difference not feeling like an unemployed crabby pregnant burden on M and having so much to look forward to this summer. Here are a few photos from the past couple of weeks:

A brand-new lamb born on the farm on M's parent's island.

I've been getting crafty in anticipation of the baby Sweedie.

M's new boat, Vixen, is all spiffed up and ready to start his new company.

Every day the buds on the trees are bursting bigger and greener.

You know spring is here when the forest is carpeted with blåsippor.

More fuzzy buds.

View over the fields on the farm where we live.

Vitsippor everywhere!

Attack of the killer tomato sauce

2011-04-18T15:50:00.001+02:00

So, can you guess the number one relationship clash that constantly rears it's ugly head between me and M? Finances? Children? Marriage? Future hopes and dreams? Nope. It's tomato sauce. Both of us are completely appalled and offended by the other's use of all types of tomato-based products, including ketchup, salsa, spaghetti sauce, and pizza sauce.

It all started when I first got here and watched M sit down to a big plate of plain spaghetti noodles, squirt ketchup all over them, and start chowing down. I was horrified...it looked absolutely disgusting. He informed me calmly that "Ketchup was invented to put on pasta." Oh really?? Swedes are indoctrinated into this gruesome practice in early childhood, making it seem normal and delicious. Kids here go nuts for pasta with ketchup. Barf.

A few months later I decided to make a nice spaghetti sauce from scratch, with fresh basil and oregano, wild mushrooms, ground moose meat, and I let it simmer for a good couple of hours. What does M do? Heaps a pile of pasta onto his plate, spoons a pile of spaghetti sauce next to the pasta to eat separately, and squirts ketchup all over the pasta. *facepalm*

Next it was my turn to offend M. He made me a traditional and well-loved Swedish dish with the provocative name "Jansson's Temptation"...layers of sliced potatoes, onions, and anchovies baked in cream with bread crumbs on top. Think a fancy, thicker version of scalloped potatoes. It was good, but I thought it was a little bland, so I squirted some ketchup on the side and started dipping my potatoes into it. M looked at me like I had just kicked his dog in the face. He told me I was ruining the food and he never wanted to make it for me again. The same thing happened when he made burgers from wild boar meat. Burgers = ketchup, right? WRONG. Apparently burgers made from wild game are not to be "ruined" with ketchup, even though I thought it tasted great.

We had some guests over for dinner recently and I made a cold Greek quinoa salad with sundried tomatoes, feta, kalamata olives, artichoke hearts, lemon juice, and red onions. While I was making it, M started concocting a crushed-tomato based sauce on the stove that included chunks of moose meat and slabs of extra-fatty bacon. When I asked what it was, he said it was "to your salad." ?!?!? I tried to calmly explain that I didn't think the flavors would work well together, but of course when dinner rolled around he smothered his portion of my fresh, cold salad with his greasy invention and claimed it to be delicious.

Don't even get me started on salsa usage in this household...when I put it on my scrambled eggs he looks like he's about to vomit, and I just turn the other way when he mixes it in with his pizza sauce. As with all relationship compromises I suppose we'll just have to agree to disagree on this one and let the other person get on with their repulsive tomato sauce habits.

Baby, I can drive your car

2011-04-08T22:33:00.001+02:00

Yay for me, I just finished all the insane expenses and meticulous hoop-jumping to get my Swedish driver's license. I don't know if anyone besides non-EU expats in Sweden can really comprehend the giant wave of relief in getting this process over with, but it's been a pain in my ass for the past three months and now it's done. Like I've explained a bit before, once an American has lived in Sweden for one year your driver's license becomes completely useless and you have to start from scratch like an 18-year-old. The tests are tough and designed not to let bad drivers pass, although sometimes you wouldn't believe it by the amount of idiot drivers that continue to tear through the streets.

To be honest, if you start early and take it one step at a time, the process isn't too horribly difficult if you've already been driving half your life and have a somewhat functional brain in your head. The worst part is the unbelievable cost...I've been avoiding tallying up the whole thing but let's see what my final bill came out to be:

Eye exam: SEK 100 ($15.81)
Driving permit fee: SEK 220 ($34.79)
Driving books in English: SEK 450 ($71.16)
Online practice tests in English: SEK 250 ($39.53)
Mandatory 3-hour "Don't Drive Drunk" class: SEK 500 ($79.07)
Mandatory 4-hour slippery driving course: SEK 1700 ($268.82)
Theory test fee: SEK 220 ($34.79)
Photograph fee: SEK 80 ($12.65)
Driving school lessons in Ludvika: SEK 3,000 ($474.40)
Train transportation to/from Ludvika: SEK 523 ($82.70)
Lodging in Ludvika: SEK 300 ($47.44)
Driving test car rental fee: SEK 220 ($34.79)
Driving test fee: SEK 700 ($110.69)
Driver's license processing fee: SEK 180 ($28.46)

Total cost: SEK 8443, or $1,335.43 USD. Wow. I kind of wish I hadn't added that up just now. But, there's really now way around it, we live out in the boonies and it just wouldn't work here without a driver's license. And while it does seem unfair for people who can't afford it, I like the fact that driving here is a hard-earned privilege that you have to do well instead of something that practically gets handed to you on your sixteenth birthday.

Swedes are the same way with owning dogs...there are hardly any strays here due to the fact that dogs are expensive to buy and own so people take very good care of them.

Anyway, my next goal is to convince M that my newly acquired Swedish driver's license means there's no excuse for me not to be able to take a spin in his sweet '67 Mustang Fastback:

So far I have only been allowed to be an accessory blonde passenger in this bad boy. I think it's time for M to hand over the keys.

Things I Like About Sweden, Part 4: Hearts and more hearts

2011-03-30T20:29:00.000+02:00

Swedes seem to enjoy making things in the shape of hearts...I'm not sure where this comes from, but luckily they don't overdo it too much or else it'd be tacky. My favorite standard heart-shaped Swedish items are:

Outhouse Doors

and Waffles

Incidentally, last Friday was International Waffle Day, which started out as a religious holiday celebrating the Annunciation to the Virgin Mary ("our lady" = "vår fru"), then got deliciously and blasphemously twisted into "våffla." Mmmm, thanks Swedes...I'll take a hot heart-shaped waffle with jam over a hard church bench any day.

Naughty Swedish lessons

2011-03-04T12:38:00.000+01:00

My blossoming Swedish skills haven't come without numerous Swedish mistakes, some of which are pretty boring and some of which are nearly disastrous. And for some reason when I make a mistake in Swedish that ends up making everyone else giggle, the mistake word gets stuck in my head forever rather than teaching me a valuable language lesson. Here are a few good ones so far:

The word for "bullshit" in Swedish is tjurskit (tjur = bull and skit = shit). Easy enough, right? For some reason I've gotten stuck on saying tjuvskit, which is "thief shit."
A few weeks ago at the daycare where I've been interning I was playing with a little boy and wanted to tell him to try doing a somersault, which is a kullerbytta. Instead I almost spat out the word knullbyta, which as I understand it is a fairly nasty way to say "sex change."
Just this week I had been talking to M about the word snopp, which is a very tame word for "penis." It also unfortunately sounds very close to the word "snot" in my brain (snot is snor in Swedish, which is also close). One young man at the daycare was in dire need of a nose wipe the other day and I came way too close to asking him if he wanted me to ta bort din snopp (take away your penis) instead of ta bort din snor (wipe your nose).

I'm sure these won't be the last of my mistakes and luckily the worst ones have only been on the tip of my tongue instead of out loud where small children can be confused and/or mortified by them. With that I'll leave you with another funny Swedish sign found by my friend Lis....Väg Assistans just means "road assistance," but the 14-year-old boy in me can't help imagining that this is some kind of traveling gynecological clinic, patrolling the streets of Sweden to help ladies in dire need of feminine supplies and lord knows what else....

Routines

2011-02-18T15:16:00.002+01:00

I haven't been inspired to write much here lately, mainly due to the fact that I've gotten really busy with school and work, and everything seems to have settled into a predictable routine. Now that my Swedish is at a passable level and things don't seem so foreign to me it's not quite as exciting to write about as it was when everything Swedish was fresh and exciting and strange and funny.

It's also not my favorite time of year weatherwise...although I'm thankful we've had some bright sunny days and plenty of snow to cover up the gray and mud...it's still COLD, COLD, COLD. Sometimes I feel like I'll never be warm again and the need for hot sun on my skin feels worse than any pregnancy food craving. The days are getting longer though, and I just have to remind myself that it does actually warm up here eventually. Although when people say, "The cold just makes you appreciate the summer more," I want to snap back, "I DO appreciate the summer...I appreciate it so much I'd be happy to have it ALL THE TIME."

Anyway, I've started a barnskötarutbildning course at our local adult-ed center, which will give me a license to work in Swedish preschools. There always seems to be a need for more preschools here and since I've been around little kids all my life it seems like a good fit. The preschools here are kind of like a mix between daycare and school...the kids are 1-6 years old and there are lots of fun activities for them. I take one full day of classes per week along with 3 full days of working at the preschool with 1-3 year olds. They're hilarious and adorable and fun, although I seem to have forgotten the vast quantities of the boogers and poop that come along with young'uns. My coworkers at the preschool are wonderful and it's great for my Swedish to be speaking all day.

Since I was homeschooled I don't have the best point of reference to compare the Swedish preschool to the ones in the US, but I can say that the quality of food here is amazing. All the kids eat fresh fruits and vegetables every day, the meals are made from scratch in the kitchen (mmmm, fresh baked bread), and I have yet to see a single sugary item served to the kids. I also like the fact that Swedes seem to emphasize teaching kids at an early age to do everything themselves instead of our US mentality of "Wait, you're too little...let me help you." Even the tiniest of kids serve their own plates of food, help clean up after themselves, and participate fully in the elaborate process of putting on and taking off winter clothes.

In addition to the preschool I'm still teaching English to older school kids three times per week, plus taking Swedish as a Second Language B. This is the last step in the free Swedish classes that we immigrants are allotted, it's a distance class that's pretty intensive and mostly centered around reading and writing about ancient literature in Swedish.

I also need to upgrade to a Swedish driver's license by April which is nothing short of a gigantic and expensive pain in the ass. The Swedish system is a little strange when it comes to foreign driver's licenses....I'm allowed to use my US license for the first year that I live here, but once that year is up they don't seem to recognize the fact that I've been regularly driving a car for exactly half my life. I have to start from scratch and take all the tests and lessons from the beginning. Luckily I have driving theory books in English, but I also need an eye exam, slippery driving course, and a drinking and driving course before I can take and pass both practical and theoretical tests, all of which cost a pretty öre. Hopefully I've gotten started early enough in the game to take each step as it comes and not try to get everything done at the last minute, we'll see how it goes.

My little viking in the oven seems to be cooking up nicely as far as I can tell...my queasy days have subsided and the only symptom I've been having is a weird taste in my mouth all the time...super annoying. We have an ultrasound next month but we're not finding out if it's a boy or a girl. I think it'll be fun to keep it a surprise and hopefully a little extra motivation to get the little bugger out when the time comes in August.

M has been away at sea for the past six weeks but is returning home on Wednesday. He and his brother are starting their own boat company this summer which will also be an exciting new project in our lives.

So that's my life right now...work, study, eat, sleep, repeat. Not too exciting, but I have a feeling I should be thankful for these calm and semi-monotonous days while they last....

Viking in the Oven

2011-01-30T14:46:00.002+01:00

Well folks, it's official: I'm expecting, with child, knocked up, in a family way, eating for two, up the duff, and my eggo is preggo. Our little Ameriswede is due to make an appearance in mid-August, just in time for his or her birthday to be celebrated with loads of crazy Swedish crayfish parties!

Since this is my first pregnancy I've been a little obsessed with over-analyzing every little symptom that comes along, but luckily everything has been pretty laid-back compared to some of the horrific morning sickness that some of my poor friends have dealt with. I took a positive pregnancy test on the first evening we arrived in the US for my brother's wedding in early December....in a hotel room in Chicago, after sneaking one last taste of a sadly-missed Leinenkugel's beer. We managed to keep the big news undercover during most of our trip to the states with the excuse of me designated-driving after my brother's wedding rehearsal dinner and reception, and luckily I wasn't feeling anything different at that point aside from a little jet lag.

Things started to kick in when I was around 6 weeks along...I was putting on mascara and it smelled really strong. I thought, "Since when does mascara smell so weird and chemically?" Then suddenly the smell and taste of coffee, which I usually love, just didn't seem appetizing at all. Not like an instantaneous barfing reaction, just more of the sensation that coffee was suddenly a weird non-food that didn't interest me in the slightest.

By the time we made it home for Swedish Christmastime, I was feeling pretty blech and had developed a new skill of being able to nap on demand, anytime, anywhere. I was also amazed at how offensive certain smells and foods had become, like pissed off that certain things could smell so revolting. We went out to M's parents for Christmas dinner and I was a very quiet, green girl at the dinner table while a huge array of strange and strong-smelling foods were passed under my nose. Most typical Swedish Christmas foods consist of salty cured meats, mini sausages and meatballs, salmon, pickled herring, deviled eggs, meat pâtés, and other delicacies.

Yum for some, yuck for me. (Wikipedia photo)

My best friends that day were plain potatoes, fizzy water, and bread. I managed to sit through the dinner and hopefully be polite while all the time thinking that I'd pay someone a million dollars to hold a fan blowing minty fresh air on my face and feed me a plain fruit salad. M's intuitive mother had a clue that something strange was going on and pretty much read the pregnancy signs all over my queasy face (she told me this after I broke the news to her a few weeks later). Luckily I never got sick enough to the point of actual vomiting, and now that I'm into my second trimester I've been feeling close to normal for the most part. Unfortunately I have a feeling that Swedish Christmas food might forever be on my list of "yuck" memories.

Early pregnancy is a weird time...you feel like crap most of the time, the happy-sweet-motherly feelings are far from kicking in, and you can't tell anyone what's going on because it's too early. Now that the cat is out of the bag I'm starting to get more and more excited and things seem to be cooking up as they should be.

I feel unbelievably lucky to be giving birth in Sweden after watching movies like this one and learning more about the backwards way that hospitals treat pregnant women in the US.

Here in Sweden, all prenatal visits and births are overseen by midwives instead of doctors, and the general attitude seems to be, "What can we do for you?" They've been very hands-off with me so far and have treated me like the normal, healthy person I am instead of something that needs to be diagnosed and treated. We'll have an ultrasound in a few weeks and I'm excited to catch a glimpse of our little squirt soon. Needless to say this blog is about to get much more baby-fied, starting now!

Our neighbors

2011-01-21T13:17:00.000+01:00

The older couple living next door to us is, to put it nicely, a little "different." I believe the man is a retired painter/drunk and his lady friend is a school cook of some kind. They spend most of their days holed up inside, but when summertime arrives they emerge into the yard to practice one or more of the following activities:

Drinking beer in the yard
Painting broken pieces of old furniture while drinking beer
Turning on a very noisy sanding machine to sand an old boat in the yard at 7am on Sundays while drinking beer
Standing in the middle of the yard in a nightgown with the back end of said nightgown conveniently tucked into the back end of large droopy panties (lunch lady only)
Coughing miserably while smoking cigarettes
Inviting a number of equally "interesting" characters over to drink beer, play some type of bocce ball game, yell, smoke cigarettes, cough, and occasionally pee in the hedges that separate our yards

Our neighbors have taken it upon themselves to "decorate" our adjoining yard with plastic flowers, a tiny plastic fountain, numerous plastic animals and trolls, and many other items that look like they may have been picked out of a trash bin. At the entrance to our shared driveway stands a sentinel gnome whose face has unfortunately fallen off. This gnome is terrifying to me. I was really glad when the snow came and covered him up, but with the recent thaw his sinister non-face has emerged from the drifts:

I suppose the only good thing I can say about our neighbors is that they are a constant reminder that not ALL Swedes are prettier, skinnier, smarter, and more stylish than Americans. Most Swedes are, but not our neighbors.

Get outta my way

2011-01-18T10:20:00.000+01:00

Okay. I really like Sweden. It's beautiful, clean, organized, intelligent, etc, etc, etc. I feel really lucky to be able to live here. But there's one aspect of Swedish culture that I don't think I'll ever get used to and that's the general coldness and (what I perceive to be) rudeness of Swedes to each other in everyday situations like getting on a bus or standing in line at the grocery store.

In the US (at least in the places I've lived), people generally approach strangers with a friendly and kind attitude. They hold doors open for each other, politely wait for elderly folks to shuffle past, and offer up a smile, helping hand, or kind word without hesitation. When I was living in Texas before I moved here, the friendliness and hospitality went all the way to eleven...strangers standing in line would strike up conversations, joke around, and ask each other all kinds of questions. In Texas it's possible to actually make a real friend just by talking to the other person at the mechanic shop while waiting to get your car fixed.

In Sweden, no way. The general attitude of Swedes out in the world is to look straight ahead, don't talk to anyone you don't know, keep a tight-lipped grimace, and for god's sake don't open a door for anyone while you go about your business. Once you're formally introduced to a Swede they will light up like a 4th of July sparkler and become incredibly sweet and friendly, but until then, good luck breaking that cold Swedish exterior.

Standing in line here is a hilarious experience which can easily drive you crazy if you try to be too American about it. In all places where you have to wait to talk to someone behind a counter you'll find a number machine that keeps everyone in order. When no number machine is available, Swedes turn into packs of cutting-in-line, selfish children nervously eyeing each other to make sure no one gets in front of them. I once saw an older man literally RUN across the grocery store when a new cash register opened up so that he could be first.

Riding the bus is also a far cry from an exercise in neighborliness. You do NOT look at or talk to the person next to you. You stare straight ahead, send text messages, listen to your ipod, or read the newspaper. Trying to strike up a conversation with the person next to you will get you a confused look of "who the hell do you think you are" because Swedes Don't Do That.

Anyway, this phenomenon wasn't quite so annoying to me during the bright, beautiful Swedish summertime, but when the weather turns dark and dreary it sure would be nice to see some smiling faces out there. Since I'm not the most outgoing person in the world I can't be too hard on the Swedes, but right now I'm missing me some loud, funny, good old Southern US hospitality.

Blog-slackin'

2011-01-03T21:35:00.001+01:00

I haven't been keeping up with my blog lately; we were traveling in the US for my brother's wedding for a few weeks, took a couple of ferry boat trips out to M's parent's island for Christmas and New Year's, and now we're back to our wintry Swedish wonderland so I'll try to write more soon.

For now, all I have is the questionably-flavored ice cream I came across at the supermarket this evening:

I don't know where "wiener nougat" comes from, and I really don't want to speculate. The additional nuts are not encouraging.

And with that, God Jul och Gott Nytt År everyone!!

Things I Like About Sweden, Part 3: Everything is Nicer

2010-12-06T14:14:00.000+01:00

Last night we were having dinner with an Australian friend and we were talking about similarities between the US and Australia in comparison to Sweden. We both agreed that everything in Sweden seems so nice and clean and organized and tasteful. You almost never see plastic tableware, trashy lawn ornaments, or old cars sitting in someone's yard....it's almost safe to say that the word "tacky" doesn't exist here. The majority of Swedish meals involve sitting down with real plates and silverware, candles, and real flowers on the table. People use knives and forks to eat McDonald's burgers. Household appliances are compact, sleek, and well-designed. TV commercials feature beautiful cinematography, soothing narration, and intelligent ideas...no screaming salesmen or flashing lights begging for your attention.

Now, as a backwoods, home-schooled, grew-up-in-a-trailer Michigander, I suppose my standards of "nicer" might be a little skewed. I've spent a good portion of my life living out of mobile homes, crappy apartments, tents, fieldwork cabins, the back of my truck, and a dusty concrete box that passed as a Guatemalan house, so it doesn't take a whole lot for me to think, "Ooooh, fancy." My friend summed it up perfectly when she said, "In Sweden, every time you walk into someone's house it feels like you're visiting the one 'rich' friend you had when you were a little kid." It really does make me feel like kind of a dirtbag sometimes, but I'm starting to get used to all this fancy stuff. Bring on the fresh flowers and candles, Jeeves.

Somebody's Watchin' Me...

2010-12-01T22:45:00.001+01:00

In Sweden, everyone has something called a personnummer, which, you guessed it, is a personal number akin to our American social security numbers. Without a personnummer in Sweden you might as well not exist. You can't open a bank account, go to the doctor, sign a cell phone contract, get a library card, open a gym membership, or even rent a movie without one. The one major difference here in Sweden seems to be that sharing your personnummer with others is absolutely no big deal, unlike in the US where we guard our social security numbers with our lives lest someone assume our identity, take out five credit cards in our name, wipe out our bank account, and ruin life as we know it.

Having a personnummer also means that the Swedish government is essentially tracking your every move, which I just can't help feeling a bit creeped out about. Coming from a country where people hide their phone numbers and addresses at all costs to evade the hordes of rabid stalkers and rapists that prowl the streets, I have a hard time being okay with the fact that I can't do anything important without it being noted and kept track of by strangers.

In addition to the government keeping track of your personnummer, there are a bunch of search websites in Sweden like www.hitta.se where you can type in a name, phone number, or address and immediately get that person's personal information. When I hitta'd myself, up popped my name, address, cell phone number, birthday, and a handy dandy little map straight to my house.

I'm torn on this one...it feels so creepy to know that all my information is just hanging out there, like my underwear is sticking out or something. But on the other hand, Swedes are typically very prone to walking around unashamed in their underwear, or sharing their personal information with whoever wants to see it. I feel privileged to be able to live in such a safe and organized country...but still....

Howdy, stranger!

2010-11-26T11:00:00.001+01:00

First we've had snow dumping down for several days straight, and today the sunshine finally made a much-needed but brief appearance on our wintry wonderland:

I'm really glad to see the sunshine, but also a little disturbed that my first reaction to sunshine now is to run outside with my camera and take photos as if an alien has landed....hmmm.

The Darkness has arrived.

2010-11-21T14:19:00.001+01:00

Here's a typical November weather forecast along with sunrise/sunset times that are rapidly shrinking our hours of daylight:

Usch. Yuck. November is by far the worst month in Sweden, weather-wise. The newest vocabulary word I've learned by hearing people talk about the weather recently is ruggig, which literally means "gruesome." No kidding...here's hoping for some nice frozen snow to lighten and cover up the cold, sopping, cloudy, muddy mess that is Sweden at the moment.

My Little Pony Steak

2010-11-12T14:40:00.001+01:00

So, the other evening we were on the sofa enjoying another nice, calm, civilized Swedish reality television show called Halv åtta hos mig (Seven-thirty with me), where four people have a competition to see who can cook the nicest and best meal for the other three people. Swedish reality TV is nothing like the trashy, shocking, guilty pleasure goodness of American reality TV...you'll rarely see drunken bar fights, skanky hookups in hot tubs, or rock stars showing off their bling. Instead, there's a show where neighbors who aren't getting along learn how to solve their problems with the help of nice, calm mediators; a show where people who have gotten too far into debt learn how to solve their problems with the help of nice, calm financial experts; and (one of my favorites) a show where nice, calm, lonely farmers out in the countryside try to find true love.

Did I mention that the television shows here are nice? And calm.

Anyway, we're watching a show where a man was preparing a lovely home-cooked meal, and he pulls a large steak out of the oven and slices it up for his guests. My Swedish has gotten capable enough to follow along with these shows for the most part, but I usually end up bugging M to translate something for me at least several times per show.

I hear the narrator say, "Ponny kött."

Pony meat???

Surely I've heard incorrectly. They interview a nice, polite young lady who was a guest at the man's dinner table and she distinctly says, "Ponny köttet var väldigt gott." The pony steak was really good.

I turned to M and said, "HORSE MEAT??" He looked at me like I was an idiot. "Yes, horse meat is one of the best meats you can eat. How is it different from eating cows?" I just sat there in shock, trying to let the idea of eating horses sink in. Then I started bombarding M with questions: "Do they raise horses specifically for meat here? Do they eat people's pet horses when they get old??" And most importantly: "Have I been served horse meat since I've lived here???"

The answer was no, but it turns out they do sell horse meat under the name hamburgerkött, which makes me a little nervous about shopping in the deli section of the store from now on. I'm still having a hard time wrapping my brain around it, even though I've happily chowed down on pigeon breasts, wild boar pâté, moose hearts, duck stomachs, and sheep livers since I moved here.

Then I started thinking about it and realized how many important icons of my childhood involved beautiful, majestic horses:

Swedes love their horses too...there are riding stables everywhere and horses seem to be loved and taken care of better than most places in the US. But according to Wikipedia:

In ancient Scandinavia, the horse was very important, as a living, working creature, as a sign of the owner's status, and symbolically within the old Norse religion. Horses were slaughtered as a sacrifice to the gods and the meat was eaten by the people taking part in the religious feasts.

Hmm. As nice and civilized as Swedes have become, it's still a bit of a shock to see hints of their savage Viking roots throughout the culture here (not that we Americans even come close to winning any peace-and-love competitions, but this blog is about Sweden). And as much as I realize I'm a product of my own horse-worshiping culture and eating them really shouldn't be much different from eating cows, moose, or deer...I'm still not sure I'm ready to sink my teeth into this:

Got Scarf?

2010-10-29T09:09:00.005+02:00

Okay, I'm not a fashion expert. I'm the last person on earth who is qualified to be commenting on European fashion trends. Most of the sharply-dressed women I see walking around Sweden make me feel shamefully shabby, frumpy, and uncool. I've been more than happy to embrace the stylish and practical Swedish look of skirts with tights and tall leather boots for winter. But, what the hell is up with the GIANT scarves, ladies? As soon as the weather gets cold, the women here pile on scarves that look something like this:

From what I've seen, the thicker and raggedier the yarn and the longer and more cumbersome the scarf, the better. Are we going for some kind of head-slimming effect here? How can your neck possibly get so cold that you need a scarf that would effectively warm a family of five? Doesn't it get heavy after walking around in the rain and snow? Is there some kind of new neck-strengthening workout regime going on that I don't know about? Does it pose a safety risk to your head-turning abilities when you constrict yourself with a huge woolen neck brace? Am I really that clueless about fashion to think this is possibly the silliest look a grown woman could go for? Can anyone out there fill me in on why someone needs to wrap the equivalent of two entire sheep around their face?

Snö!

2010-10-22T08:40:00.001+02:00

It looks like winter isn't wasting any time in showing up to Sweden this year...last night it was -5 Celsius when we went to bed (or "five degrees cold" as they say here) and the ground was all frosty and sparkly. We've had our big kakelugn (tiled woodstove) burning off and on for the past few weeks now:

Once the fire heats up, the whole tower section gives off heat for the next day or two, even if the fire goes out.

Last night it got cold enough to light a fire in the old kitchen oven as well.

This morning we woke up to a white, soggy winter wonderland and it's still plopping down as I type. I've had a love/hate relationship with winter throughout my life, and this is the most snow I've seen since the winter of 2005. But, I'm a northern girl at heart and I was a little surprised to find myself getting totally excited for the snow:

I've been lucky enough to live in hot, beachy, tropical places (Guatemala, Guam, and the Gulf Coast) for about 7 years of my life, but I never realized how much I missed the changing of the seasons. Much like the upper Midwest of the US where I grew up (Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota), the seasons here in Sweden blast in and out in a way that's anything but subtle. It almost seems like every single week here is different in some way, and it has a much bigger impact on the way you create memories and remember years past when it was a dry summer or an early winter or an extra-wet spring. It's no wonder Swedes are so connected to nature, and forgetting to check the weather forecast here is as unthinkable as going without coffee or wearing your shoes inside the house.

It's still snowing like crazy outside, which makes being inside with a cozy fireplace that much more enjoyable. I feel like I've come full circle back to the wintry north now, and even though I'm on the other side of the world, it feels like home.

***** Snow Update, six hours later *****

After I posted this the power went out and the snow kept dumping down...so instead of the wussy little dusting above, we now have this:

Six months in Sweden

2010-10-17T11:58:00.001+02:00

I can't believe it's already been half a year since I passed through customs at the Stockholm Arlanda airport with my shiny new residence permit. After an absolutely gorgeous, sunny, and even hot summer followed by the most beautiful crisp fall imaginable I can say it's been much better than I expected so far. Not only does the beautiful view outside my doorstep remind me on a daily basis of how lucky I am to live here, but it's been much easier to settle in and find productive things to do than I imagined. Before I moved here I made the mistake of reading some expat discussion boards online where everyone constantly whined and complained about the impossibility of finding jobs, poor treatment of foreigners, coldness of Swedes, dark winters, rain, high cost of living, difficulty of learning Swedish, and generally how much they hated Sweden. Reading posts from these crybabies was a really bad idea as it only made me nervous and doubtful about moving here. I've been pleasantly surprised and relieved to find out that Sweden is wonderful and most of the expats who feel the need to go online and grumble and complain about their lives would most likely be doing the same thing regardless of where they were living.

So, six months later and I am getting more and more comfortable understanding and speaking Swedish, I have two part-time jobs that fill up my schedule give me something interesting to look forward to, I've moved up through several levels of Swedish classes to the point where I'm being challenged and enjoy my class, I've made lots of wonderful friends, and I can finally say enough words in Swedish to get a giggle out of M's super quiet, zero-English-speaking father. Life is good and I even feel up to the challenge for the cold, dark winter ahead.

My Swedish classes have been moving along quickly and now I'm finally in the correct class for my level of Swedish. The typical language-learning path that most newcomers to Sweden take begins with Svenska för Invandrare (Swedish for Immigrants), or SFI. This class can be good or bad, and I was lucky enough to have enough Swedish under my belt to test out of the class after one week and move up to Svenska som andraspråk (Swedish as a second language), or SAS, which has three levels (Ground, A, and B). It all gets a little confusing if you're not in the system yourself, but I'm in SAS A now which is basically high-school level Swedish. I just started SAS A last week, and my new teacher is excited about teaching and challenging her students rather than just sitting around and chatting about current events. I have class once per week for 4 hours and I'm really happy with it so far.

My two little jobs have been fun and although they're not the most economically lucrative choices in the world, I feel that right now it's more important for me to get comfortable speaking Swedish and making new friends and being happy and content here than it is to leave for another five weeks at sea in the middle of trying to settle in. I've been babysitting for a few different families which has been by far the most fun way to learn Swedish. The little girls I watch are quick to correct me if I say something wrong and love to teach me new words and meticulously help with my pronunciation. I've also been hired as a native language English teacher for kids who speak English in their homes (most of the kids in my classes have one Swedish parent and one parent from an English-speaking country). The kids range in age from 5 to 9 so it can be tough to find activities on a level that everyone can enjoy together, but I've come up with a few good ideas and right now I'm reading them one of my favorite childhood books, Charlotte's Web.

Having M home for the whole fall has been wonderful as well...he has been working on his 12-meter steel workboat that he built himself. I've been helping him paint and pick out carpets and colors for the inside, and it's starting to look fantastic. There will be several beds, a small kitchen, and a toilet/shower area inside so we'll be able to use it as a little floating guest house when we have visitors. I can't wait to take it island-camping next summer!

The autumn has brought an abundance of food, so all of our meals are usually around 80% locally harvested wild game and vegetables. There are potatoes and sweet corn grown here on the farm along with wild mushrooms in the forest and huge piles of apples on the ground. Last week we picked 120 kilos of apples and dropped them off at the Värmdö Musteri (local cider mill)....now we have a stack of boxed cider in the cellar that should keep us from buying any type of sugary drinks for at least the next year. M always keeps our freezer full of deer, moose, fish, duck, and whatever other creatures he manages to capture, so I am definitely getting spoiled by high quality meat and doubt I'll be able to stomach gross US factory-farmed beef and chicken again.

Mushroom-O-Rama!

Unfortunately my little garden didn't fare so well this year (I think our yard is too shady since it's right next to a rock cliff), but I did get lots of dill, lettuce, parsley, carrots, a few green beans, and some basil out of it. M's parents gave me some pumpkins from their neighbor and I introduced M to his first roasted pumpkin seeds and pumpkin pie from scratch. I was nervous about making pumpkin pie for the first time for a group of Swedish friends who had never tasted it, but luckily it was a hit. Everyone said the pie tasted like gingerbread cookies (which are a huge Christmas favorite here) so I was glad that I managed to represent and give everyone a little taste of authentic American culture.

So, that's my six month Swedish update...so far so good! I would say "bring on the winter," but I'd rather keep this bright sunny autumn weather for as long as possible.

The perfect fall weekend

2010-10-05T11:44:00.001+02:00

We just spent a long weekend out on M's parent's island with M's best friend, wife, two daughters, and a total of four crazy little hunting dogs running around. Our friends were visiting from Göteborg on the western side of the country, and they brought us fresh lobster and a huge bag of shrimp. The weather was unbelievably gorgeous...bright sun, the water was like a mirror, and just a little fall chill in the air.

This photo was taken just a few hundred meters up the road from our house.

The bay where we live, headed out toward M's parent's island.

Island sheep

Island ponies

This pony is so teeny, he looks like a dog.

One of the best things about M's parent's house is their wood-fired hot tub out on the dock. There's something about soaking in hot salt water and then jumping back and forth into the chilly sea that makes you feel like ten pounds of dirt has been scrubbed out of your skin.

We stopped to grill hot dogs on the way out to watch seals on the rocks

A grey seal

Taking photos of swimming seals from a bobbing boat wasn't easy, but with a good zoom I managed to catch this guy's eerily human-like eyes.

Swan launch

More funny food

2010-09-25T14:20:00.000+02:00

The name of this candy is "Floppy Scum Dolphins." All I can say is WOW.

I didn't have the guts to try these...but just to clarify a little, skum here really means "foam," not the type of scum we think of in English as something floating on top of old bathtub water. Still....no thanks.

Bye bye, American food...

2010-09-21T09:36:00.005+02:00

Every time I start to feel like Sweden isn't really that much different from where I grew up (Michigan), all it takes is a quick stroll through the grocery aisles to remind me how far away from home I really am. While all the trees, fields, barns, and mossy forests might look a lot like the upper Midwest, the food is much different and obviously most American brands of food are nowhere to be found.

Honestly, I'm thankful for this...we eat WAY too much processed crap in America and Swedish food is mostly based on whole, natural ingredients instead of different parts of corn that have gone through five different chemistry labs and processing plants on the way to our stomachs. The food here is delicious and I can find substitutes for most things that I really miss if I need to. But, I can't help feeling a little bit of nostalgia in saying goodbye to the food that just isn't sold here:

Root beer is nowhere to be found. No substitutes either and therefore no cold, frosty root beer floats.

Yellow mustard is not used here. There are a lot of different types of mustard (senap), and fancy brown spicy mustards are available, which I like. But, regular everyday mustard here is weird and sweet and sticky....and everyone will look at you like you're nuts if you put it on a turkey sandwich.

Chocolate chips are absolutely not available...although there are lots of different types of chocolate and wonderful stuff like Nutella, but no chocolate chips = no chocolate chip cookies. Boo.

All brands of American Candy are, you guessed it, apparently only sold in America. None of our delicious chocolatey peanutty candy bars are here, and Swedish candy is mostly based on gummy, licorice-flavored, half-salty concoctions. Great for the diet because it's so gross for the tastebuds.

Same goes for all this junk: no Chips Ahoy, Oreos, Fig Newtons, or Nutter Butters. Anyone else starting to realize how us Americans have become such fat-a$$es?
(***Update*** Just found out that they DO sell Oreos here, they just started last year :)

Cilantro doesn't seem to be grown or used in Sweden. Can't find it anywhere.

There are a few sad excuses for Mexican food, but as a girl who lived in Guatemala for two years, it doesn't even come close. They put CUCUMBERS on their "tacos" here. No, no, no. And on top of that, no Pacifico (my favorite) beer to wash it down with.

So, that's my food eulogy for the day...there is still plenty of crap food available here in Sweden, and I feel a twinge of shame every time I see my country's wonderful contributions to the world when we drive past the golden arches. And I'm sure all this junk food tastes much better in my nostalgic mind than it does in real life....in the meantime I'm sure I'll survive on all the fresh and delicious real food here in Sweden.

No running today.

2010-09-11T15:15:00.000+02:00

I'm supposed to be running the Stockholm Half-Marathon in one hour. I was all registered and trained and ready to go, and then what happened last Sunday? I came down with an evil case of babysittee-kid-acquired flu that hit me like a ton of bricks....fever, sore throat, dizzy, achy...which settled nicely into my respiratory system over the past few days and turned into a hacking cough and runny nose. I missed the training that I was supposed to finish last weekend so now I think it would be really stupid to attempt running the longest distance of my life. With the beginning of school it seems like everyone on Värmdö has been coming down with some form of sickness, but I'm still going to try running the half-marathon distance on my own once I'm feeling up to it.

In better news, over the past couple of weeks I began svenska för invändare (Swedish for immigrants, or SFI) classes. Luckily I tested out after the first week and was moved ahead to svenska som andra språk (Swedish as a second language) which is closer to the junior-high level. I was glad to skip over SFI as I had heard some horror stories of how painfully slow it could be. During the week that I was in class we spent a good amount of time being told to sit in the library and quietly "study," with no real structure or lesson plans aside from a few websites with grammar and vocabulary quizzes. In order to practice speaking Swedish we were told to talk to each other...which felt pretty limited and frustrating, sitting there speaking broken Swedish with other students whose Swedish was even worse than mine. I can imagine it'd be difficult to teach a group of people from different education levels and backgrounds, and some of the students were really trying hard, but my last straw was the day we were in the computer lab and it took AN HOUR for everyone to correctly login to the computers (after we had just been given our computer logins and passwords earlier in the day). The teacher even had to say at one point, "Don't click the X at the top of your screen or everything will disappear." Bye bye, SFI!

So, the new classes I'm in are a little faster and the students seem to be more motivated to actually learn. I'm also taking a high-school level general science course online, which is fun for the science dork in me and great for learning new vocabulary.

Finally, in addition to my part-time babysitting job, I was hired as a modersmål lärare (native language teacher) to teach weekly after-school classes in English. The Swedish school system provides supplemental education for any kids who speak a language other than Swedish in their homes. I'll have a group of nine kids aged 6-12 every Wednesday afternoon so it'll be interesting to come up with age-appropriate lessons and activities for them. Most of the kids were born in Sweden and have one English-speaking parent, so their Swedish is better than their English...hmmm, maybe they should be the ones teaching me?

Things I Like About Sweden, Part 2: Everybody Sing!

2010-09-06T18:22:00.000+02:00

Since I started visiting Sweden last year and have spent one full and wonderful summer here as a resident, I've been finding more and more overwhelming evidence that Sweden Is Adorable. One cultural phenomenon that initially felt a little too over-the-top and cheesy when I first witnessed it was the sing-along. Swedes love to sing, they tend to sing quite well, and they especially like to sing all together in very large groups.

One of my goals for next summer is to attend the famous Allsång på Skansen, a huge sing-along that started 75 years ago at Stockholm's outdoor park/zoo/cultural museum. Ten to fifteen THOUSAND people attend this weekly event in the summertime, showing up to wait in line ridiculously early in the morning in order to get a good seat and hopefully get their smiling, singing faces broadcast live to the whole country:

Look at these people, standing out in the rain and loving it! There are a few different live sing-along programs on TV throughout the summer, and they always include the lyrics so everyone at home can watch and sing along.

Not only is the sing-along phenomenon popular in the summertime, but at any social occasion with an excuse to belt out a birthday, wedding, holiday, or drinking song. When I attended a birthday party earlier this spring I was surprised to find pages of numbered song lyrics at every plate, and all the guests linked arms, swayed back and forth, and cheerfully bellowed out the songs between bites of the meal. I felt pretty silly at first and I was giggling like crazy, but it was quite honestly a blast. Later on there was a live band with song quizzes and competitions which was also a lot of fun.

Now I just have to learn all these songs in Swedish....

You Know You've Been In Sweden Too Long When....

2010-09-02T12:27:00.004+02:00

I compiled this list of my favorites from a longer list on an expat website...

You know you've been in Sweden too long when:

A stranger on the street smiles at you, and you assume (a) he's drunk, (b) he's insane, (c) he's an American, or (d) all of the above.
You can pick out the real blondes from the fake blondes.
Your coffee consumption exceeds six cups per day and the coffee is too weak if there are less than ten scoops per pot.
The first thing you do when entering a bank, post office, drugstore, etc. is to look for the queue number machine, and you accept you'll have to stand in line in order to take a queue number.
The reason you take a ferry to Finland is (a) duty-free vodka, (b) duty-free beer, or (c) to party hearty; no need to get off the ferry in Helsinki, just turn around and keep partying all the way back to Sweden.
You hear people speaking loudly on the train. You immediately assume (a) they are drunk, (b) they are Americans, or (c) all of the above.
You know how to fix herring 105 different ways.
Your front step is beginning to resemble a shoe store.
You only have two facial expressions, smiling or blank.
You don't find it strange when a couple has been engaged for six years and have no plans to get married.
You assume that anyone who apologizes after bumping into you is a tourist.
You get into a Mercedes taxi cab and think nothing of it.
You think it's normal that EVERYTHING is regulated and you obey the rules voluntarily.
Pigs say "nerf, nerf," frogs say, "kvack, kvack," and roosters say, "kuckileku."
You can use the words bra, fart, and slut in a sentence without giggling.
You refer to weeks by their number.
You are no longer surprised when you see topless women, full-frontal male nudity, or hear the word "f*ck" on prime-time television.
You think an hour-and-a-half cycle on your machine is a "quick wash."
A sharp intake of breath has become part of your vocabulary, as has the word, "Ja haaaa."
You use "mmmmm" as a conversation filler.
You eat your pancakes and waffles with jam instead of syrup.
Silence is fun.
Your native language has deteriorated to the point where you begin to "eat medicine," "open the television," "close the lights off," "take a beer," "look upon TV" and tell someone to "follow with me."
You associate pea soup with Thursday.
Your idea of nightlife has been reduced to a few teenagers hanging out in front of the railway station on a Friday night.
The fact that all the V's and W's are together in the phone book seems okay.
You no longer have to search for the flushing mechanism.
When you're hungry you can peel a boiled potato like lightning.
You accept that 80 degrees C in a sauna is chilly, but 20 degrees C outside is freaking hot.
You think that riding a bicycle in the snow is a perfectly sensible thing to do.
Someone calls you a "good moron" first thing in the morning and you smile in acknowledgment.
You think it's more fun to stay home and drink than to go out.
You get extremely annoyed when the bus is two minutes late.
Americans start to look entertaining, witty, and fun.
You think that if you smoke a joint you will wind up (a) in an insane asylum, (b) as a habitual criminal, or (c) all of the above.
Your wardrobe now consists of 20 different shades of black and gray.
You think that an unripe tomato wedge on a limp leaf of iceberg lettuce can be called a salad.
Seeing a young woman with lit candles stuck to her head no longer disturbs you.
You become extremely skilled at assembling pre-packaged furniture kits.
You mutter "Oy, oy, oy," to yourself continually even if you are the only one in the room.
When someone asks you for "sex," you assume they mean a half-dozen.
You would rather squeeze past someone and bump into them in the process instead of saying "Excuse me."
You are no longer offended by the fact that you are a Swedish size XL when at home you are a medium.
You begin to understand Norwegian and Danish.
Someone cuts you off on the freeway and instead of giving them the finger, you simply mumble "eedeeyout" under your breath.
You aren't surprised to see children trick-or-treating on Easter, all dressed up as witches.
You are concerned when the picture on the front page of the paper is not of some random person watering their garden or of a child holding an animal.
Anything really good is "giant good."
You eat pizza with a knife and fork.
You accept that you pay bills at the post office, pick up packages from the grocery store, and you have to drive 5 miles to find a mailbox to put your outgoing mail in.
You know that "religious holiday" means "let's get hammered."
Paying $6 for a cup of coffee seems reasonable.
"Candles" are a permanent feature on your weekly shopping list.
It's your birthday and YOU have to make the cake.

Crayfish party!

2010-08-25T16:50:00.000+02:00

Last Saturday I was lucky enough to participate in a traditional Swedish Kräftskiva, or crayfish party. These parties originated back when it was illegal to catch crayfish until the crayfish trapping season started in late August.

Our landlords here on the farm opened up one of the barns and invited all the tenants who live here to come and celebrate...I think there were around 60-70 people in total. The barn was decked out with paper lanterns and a big stereo system with disco lights, which really came in handy later in the evening when the tipsy dancing began. Unfortunately M was away at sea, but his brother was here to help initiate me on proper crayfish-partying. The rules are pretty simple: grab a crayfish, crack it open and suck out as much meat and juice as you can, sing lots of rowdy songs, and (most importantly) drink snaps at the end of every song. Some neighbors gave me a taste of dill-flavored snaps, which I don't think would work with very many foods in very many situations except for washing down crayfish!

As one might expect, there is not a hell of a lot of meat inside a crayfish. And, it takes some work getting the little buggers open. So, between singing at the top of your lungs and drinking a shot of booze every few minutes while having not-quite-so-much food in your stomach, you end up getting really drunk, really fast. Here's the official version of the drinking song Helan Går, they way it's supposed to be sung:

Loosely translated, the words mean:

The whole shot goes
Sing hop fa-da-ra-la-la-la-lay

The whole shot goes
Sing hop fa-da-ra-la-lay
And he who doesn't take the whole shot
Doesn't get the half shot either
The whole shot goooooooooes
[Drink the whole shot]
Sing hopp fa-da-ra-la-lay

Now, here's how the song ends up sounding toward the end of the night (not my video):

It was a really fun party, especially since my house was just a few hundred tipsy meters down the road at the end of the night. Next year I'll try to remember to eat more bread to balance out all the booze, my hangover will thank me in the morning.

Things I Like About Sweden, Part 1: Public Restrooms

2010-08-22T21:12:00.000+02:00

I've started a list of pros, cons, and "meh"s about living in Sweden. The list is getting pretty long, so I'll tackle it one step at a time.

A big thumbs up in Sweden: public restroom design (I'm talking about the normal ones in restaurants and airports and such, not the stinky little buildings that you have to pay 5 kronor for on the sidewalk in Stockholm). Instead of rows of open stalls with partitions on the sides, each toilet has it's own private room, a door with full coverage, and a lock that turns red on the outside so the people waiting know that the toilet is occupied. A lot of the time you even get your own private sink.

Why haven't we figured this out yet in America? It seems so silly to have to peek underneath all the bathroom stalls in order to figure out which ones are free, half the time the door doesn't lock at all, and you have to lean over and hold it shut with your hand. Or, you end up with a big gap between the door and somebody's little kid is running around peeking in at you, all the while you just want to pee in comfortable privacy.

Another feature of Swedish restrooms that make us Americans look downright primitive are dual-flush toilets. Almost all toilets have two different buttons that let you choose whether you want a big flush with lots of water or just a little flush...I obviously don't need to describe the specific situations as to why you need a big or little flush. Dual-flush toilets cut back on 50-75% of water usage, and for some reason toilet-clogging doesn't seem to be a big problem here.

So, like many other things Swedish, the restroom design here is more practical, functional, clean, and comfortably civilized than it is in the States. Not to mention a far cry from the olden days of Peace Corps Guatemala:

Running is for girls

2010-08-16T10:26:00.001+02:00

When I first arrived in Sweden, I decided to sign up for a race at the end of the summer and start training for it...I didn't want anything too extreme, just something that would keep me motivated to get my ass out on the roads after sitting on boats for weeks at a time. I found the website for the Tjejmilen, or "Girl's Mile*," a nice-sounding girl's-only 10k in September that sounded not-too-hard and not-too-easy...they even give everyone a free slice of cheesecake at the end of the race! When I mentioned my idea to M, he gave me a smirk and told me I don't even want to know the jokes that they make about that race. The tamest joke I could get out of him was: "What's 10 kilometers long and smells like fish?" Hmm, you can probably guess the answer.

I decided to up the ante and in a moment of tough-girl stubbornness, I went ahead and registered for the Stockholm Half Marathon on September 11th. That's twice as long as the wussy girl's-only race. Twenty-one kilometers. That's thirteen miles. Oh crap.

Fast forward to today, 26 days before I'm scheduled to torture myself through the streets of Stockholm, and this summer's festivities, eating, drinking, and traveling have not exactly been conducive to my running schedule. I've been trying to run at least three times per week, but I've been slacking lately and seriously need to get my ass back in gear. Yesterday I downloaded a bunch of new upbeat songs and ran eight 10-minute miles in the cool weather...and I felt fantastic, I couldn't believe it! I'm starting to feel like it might be possible, if I just stick to my training schedule and remember how good it feels once I start running. Here's my newest favorite running song, it actually made me start running faster when it showed up on my ipod around mile 6:

Between good music, cooler weather, and the dorky t-shirt that came with my race registration and says Jag tränar för Stockholm Halvmarathon (I'm training for the Stockholm Half-Marathon), I now have no excuses. And, I'd bet money that M would have a hard time running the girl's mile if he tried.

*A little clarification: one Scandinavian mile is equal to ten kilometers, which is equal to 6.2 regular miles. Confusing, I know.

Homestead-y

2010-08-15T12:46:00.001+02:00

Aside from last-minute Spanish adventures or cheering on drag queens in Stockholm, I've spent the past few weeks getting used to being in Sweden on my own while M is away at sea. Everything is getting easier and easier now that I can understand a lot more Swedish (I'm still around the level of a 2-year-old as far as speaking, though). I've picked up some extra work as a nanny for a few days a week, which should work out nicely with my Swedish classes once they start later this month. Being around kids is by far the fastest and most fun way to learn Swedish...kids here don't start learning English until age 9, so it's not an option for me to wuss out and speak English with them. They talk nonstop, usually seem fascinated by a silly grownup who can't speak correctly, and they love teaching me new words and correcting my pronunciation.

In the meantime, I've been crocheting (virkning) a blanket for M's cousin who is having a baby boy next month:

Hmmm....I don't think she reads this blog, so hopefully it will be a surprise! I've also been on a potato-harvesting spree since M volunteered us to tend two 80-meter rows of potatoes on our landlord's farm. I had never harvested potatoes before, but it's pretty fun...you turn over the whole potato hill with a pitchfork, then sort through the soil with your fingers and pick out all the buried treasure.

Lots and lots of potatis.

So far I've picked over 40 kilos (90 pounds) of new potatoes! The new ones are small with thin skins, and you have to eat them right away or else boil and freeze them. While I like potatoes as much as the next guy, I'm nowhere near as crazy about them as your typical Swede. So, the majority of the potato harvest went straight into the freezer or was given away to friends and family...I'm sure it would've been a different story if I had been picking raspberries. But, between the potatoes, deer, moose, fish, and wild mushrooms, there's something intrinsically satisfying about watching our big chest freezer fill up with fresh food from just outside the door.

Impromptu weekend in Spain

2010-08-10T16:06:00.000+02:00

Last Thursday I decided at the last minute to buy a cheap flight to the south of Spain at 6:00 the next morning. M's boat has been in the port of Algeciras for engine work the past few weeks, and I though it would be fun to surprise him with a weekend visitor. I didn't tell him I was coming, I just packed up a small carry-on and took off....unfortunately I had a babysitting gig that ran late on Thursday evening, so I was operating on around three hours of sleep. I was counting on my previously-exceptional Spanish skills to help me pick up a cheap rental car in Malaga and drive the 120 kilometers (that's 75 miles) south to Algeciras. Since I spoke Spanish for two years when I lived in Guatemala, I figured it'd be just like riding a bike to fall back into speaking it again. Ha!

I arrived in hot, crowded Malaga and picked up the cheapest rental car available, a so-called "Smart" car that looks more like a toy than a safe form of transportation:

The woman at the counter assured me the car was safe for driving on highways, and since the car rental line was huge I grabbed the keys and got out of there. When I got to the car, I realized that the map directions from Malaga to Algeciras that I had carefully printed out had been sitting underneath the pile of paperwork for the rental car lady. Oh well, said my tired, impatient, blonde brain. How hard can it be? Keep the mountains on my right and the sea on my left and I'll be there in no time. I pulled out of the airport, promptly got turned around, and was lost in the busy Spanish traffic for the next two hours. I stopped three times to ask for directions, only to find the my Spanish had turned into a choppy mixture of Spanish, Swedish, and drowsy blonde "uh" sounds. I could understand everything that was being said to me, but there was too much Swedish clogging up the language station in my brain for anything properly Spanish to make it out of there.

Once I somehow found the correct highway south, I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when I realized it wasn't such a "smart" car to be driving on the mountainous Spanish highways at 120 kph. It felt like the wind gusts and semi trucks zooming by could have flipped my little toy car waaaaaay down to the canyons far below at any second. I finally reached M's boat much later than I had expected, tired and dusty and shaky...not exactly the beaming surprise girlfriend I had planned, but at least in one piece.

M's boat with Gibraltar in the background.

We ended up having a lovely weekend...M managed to escape from some of his captain duties to wander around with me. Algeciras is not a tourist town at all, so it was fun to sit outside at the tapas bar with pitchers of sangria for a few hours and watch the Spanish nightlife go by. The next morning we took a ferry to Gibraltar, which was absolutely a crowded tourist mecca, but fun to see regardless.

Since there was a Harley convention on Gibraltar and the place was packed, we decided to skip the touristy streets and instead hiked up the side of the mountain overlooking the city.

The next day we walked down to the beach in Algeciras and enjoyed some swimming, ice cream, gin and tonics, and general lazing. The weather this weekend was hazy and cloudy for the most part so my photos weren't terrific, but it was more than nice to see my Swedeheart for a few days.

I opted to drive back to Malaga on the slower seaside roads, which were much better suited to the Smart car. I'd recommend one for driving in cities - the mileage was great and I could park just about anywhere - but you won't see me driving one on the highway again.

Stockholm Pride Parade

2010-07-31T20:26:00.001+02:00

I had a great time at the Stockholm Pride parade this afternoon, the weather was lovely and everyone was so happy and excited. This was the first pride parade I've ever been to, and it was much more family-friendly than I expected. Sure, there were plenty of mostly-naked, glitter-covered people in platform shoes, a couple of boobs and butts here and there, and the occasional gyrating party boy swinging from the top of a truck. But, the majority of people in the parade were quite honestly not that interesting or different than anyone else: smiling parents with chubby toddlers waving rainbow flags, grandmothers, grandfathers, giddy dancing teenagers, teachers, police officers, doctors, nurses, church members, people with disabilities, politicians, and every other type of person you could imagine.

"Proud parents of homosexual sons and daughters"

I was amazed by all the people dancing the entire 4-hour parade route in the craziest, tallest high heels imaginable.

Gay police officers

Right back at'cha, guy on the left!

Free blessings from the priests.

"Do not execute our children for their love"

Another trip to Kallskär

2010-07-20T11:22:00.001+02:00

We spent the weekend out on Kallskär again, and this time we brought the kayak. The weather was gorgeous, the water was warm, and our bellies were full of fresh smoked fish.

If you ever go on vacation with a group of Swedes, you will notice a huge difference between the American and Swedish style of "taking it easy." There is no such thing as idly lazing around on a Swedish holiday: wake up, drink coffee, take a swim, eat a breakfast smorgås (sandwich), pile into the rowboat, set out the fishing nets, return to the cabin, drink more coffee, eat cake, sip a little whisky, pile back into the rowboat, head to a different island for snorkeling and exploring, drink beer in the sunshine, haul in the fishing nets on the way back, clean the fish, hang up the nets and pick seaweed off them, scrub off the boats, cut up firewood, start the smoker, fix the dock, haul kelp out of the sea to put on the garden, cut down weeds, take a paddle in the kayak, eat smoked fish and drink wine, take a walk, drink some more beer, take another swim, sip a little whiskey, and fall into bed completely and totally satisfied.

Flounder, whitefish, and bass, fresh from the Baltic Sea. We cleaned the fish and packed them in salt for a couple of hours, then smoked them with juniper branches. Stockholmers pay hundreds of kronor for fresh smoked fish....we had so much we had to give some to M's parents.

Triss on the lookout for fish (or anything else that can possibly be chased and barked at). This crazy guy chased seagulls up and down the rocks for about two hours and ended up with horribly ragged paws. He still hasn't learned that it's impossible to catch a seagull.

Timon patiently waiting for M to return from a spin in the kayak.

A summer storm rolled through with some beautiful cloud formations.

The Importance of Shoes

2010-07-15T12:51:00.000+02:00

If you're visiting Sweden for the first time and you have absolutely no idea what to do or say, the number one rule to remember is to take off your shoes at the door when you enter someone's home. This habit is so ingrained into Swedish culture that it's hard to explain. It's also hard for me to explain to Swedes that yes, in the US we take our shoes off at the door if it's muddy or raining outside, but it's really not a big deal to leave them on if they're not filthy. To a Swedish person, wearing your shoes inside the house is akin to something as barbaric and uncivilized as taking a dump on the lawn: you just don't do it.

Because of the no-shoes-in-the-house rule, everyone I know has a couple pairs of träskor (literally "wooden shoes") that are always ready at the door and slip easily on and off:

M, his father, and his brother wear these clumpy, high-heeled shoes for almost all outdoor activities around the house, including chopping firewood, chasing after dogs through the forest, hauling in fishing nets, and jumping on and off boats on the dock all day. Everyone seemed so comfortable running around in these things that I decided to pick up a pair for myself at the local hardware store. As you can imagine, for me they're just about as awkward and uncomfortable as it gets without resorting to stilettos. I guess it's one of those acquired cultural skills like eating rice with chopsticks or effortlessly carrying firewood on your head...if you didn't grow up doing it, you probably shouldn't start trying as a grownup. I should have at least held out for something a little more girly for myself, because are some reasonably cute wooden-shoe options out there:

As for shoes that are appropriate for anything other than household chores, I'm starting to realize that my tendency to throw on a pair of old running sneakers to head to the store is decidedly un-Swedish and screams "YANKEE" to everyone around me. Most people wear much more stylish shoes...these really pointy-toed type of leather soccer (sorry, fotboll) shoes are very popular with the men:

While most women wear normal dressy shoes or sandals in the summertime, almost every woman I saw when the weather was colder made me feel like a complete country bumpkin by strutting around in a pair of tall, crazy hot, shiny black knee-length leather boots:

All the ladies had these, from young girls to grandmothers...they made me feel SO boring. And clumsy. And short. Okay, so I have some work to do in the European-shoe-fashion area. But, I can promise that you will never, ever, ever, ever see me assimilating to the point of something like this:

Not to brag, but...

2010-07-09T16:28:00.000+02:00

As the proud daughter of a former beer-truck driver, I couldn't help noticing this stellar advertising slogan on a can of Danish Carlsberg beer the other day:

"Probably" the best beer in the world?? After growing up surrounded by pompous, over-the-top American advertising, this seems so funny and wishy-washy to me. I'm used to hearing about the "king of beers" and "champagne of beers." As for Carlsberg....hey, you'll probably like it, and maybe you won't, but you know, whatever.

Island Life

2010-07-03T15:32:00.001+02:00

Some photos from the island where M grew up and where his parents still live. There are no cars out here, only boats, ATV's, and tractors.

The homestead, along with at least eight boats (last I counted).

An inventive ATV seat.

The definition of "traffic."

M testing out my new kayak (finally I have a boat too!!)

My turn to try the kayak.

Island cows, kickin' it.

You expect trolls to pop out whenever you turn around...

...or maybe just a rådjur (roe deer)

These horsetails are so fine and fuzzy they look like they aren't in focus.

Wild rose

Island farm

Major highway

This is a knipa, or common goldeneye, with her brand new babies. M's family has about five nest boxes for them in the yard, and the eggs were hatching while we were visiting. The babies only spend a day or so in the nest before they have to make the perilous plunge down to momma in the water. Unfortunately there are evil seagulls lurking everywhere, just waiting to swallow them whole.

M and his father checking the nest box.

Just hatched...we put him back for a rest before the big jump.

Late evening sunset during one of the longest days of the year.

Conclusion: I Love Midsommar.

2010-06-30T18:16:00.004+02:00

I survived my first Swedish Midsommar this past weekend, and oh boy was it a good one. M and I spent the past week out in the far archipelago between his parent's island and the island where our friends have a stuga (cabin) on the island of Tornö. We arrived to Tornö around eleven on Friday morning...the boats were decorated, the lunch table was set, and the beers were flowing freely.

Everyone decorates their boats and houses with björk (birch) branches for Midsommar.

Lunch consisted of about 8 different types of sill (pickled herring), deviled eggs with caviar, new potatoes with dill, smoked moose heart, wild boar paté, cured smoked salmon and shrimp, several types of cheese and bread, plenty of beer, and a special drink called aquavit to wash down the sill. Aquavit is spiced vodka, and the particular bottle we had was Linie brand aquavit...what makes this kind special is that all Linie Aquavit has been aged in an oak sherry cask on board a ship that has crossed the equator twice. You can read details of your particular bottle's journey on the label; ours had traveled on board the M/V Tampa from Scandanavia to Australia and back. Supposedly this 5-month journey combined with fluctuating temperatures and humidity causes the booze to become extra delicious. My taste for strong shots of booze isn't refined any more than it takes to get the fiery stuff down my gullet as quickly as possible.

Once we were totally stuffed, warm, and happy, we took the boat over to the larger island of Möja to see the Midsommar festivities. We brought along a cooler full of beer, whiskey, coffee, and traditional strawberry cake.

The midsommar dancing was just about the happiest sight you can see while you're half-drunk and full of delicious food under perfect sunny weather on a Swedish island. Everyone has crowns of flowers and both grownups and kids dance and sing along to the silly songs. Whenever I asked what the song was about, I got an answer along the lines of, "Uh...this one is about a priest and a crow who fall down in a ditch and start laughing." Or, "This one is about frogs that have no tails or ears so they're funny to see, and then pigs have tails and ears so they're funny to see too." My conclusion was that the songs don't necessarily contain great mysterious cultural significance, they're just fun to sing year after year.

Later on in the afternoon we went back to the stuga and continued our eating and drinking spree. I had been warned by M that by nightfall on Midsommar, someone usually came up with a crazy idea like taking the boat farther out into the archipelago to skinny dip with seals, or something along those lines. This year was no different, and our friend suggested we drive out to his grandfather's fishing cabin on Kallskär to watch the sunrise. We piled into the boat with food and blankets and drove to the outer edges of the archipelago where we hiked to the highest point on the island to watch the combination of sunrise and sunset that pretty much lasts through the night.

Here are some photos of Kallskär the next morning. The islands here are windswept and rocky, with low vegetation and no one to see for miles. I'm not one to get sentimental about the beauty of nature, but there was absolutely something magical about this place.

Bring on the Midsommar

2010-06-21T17:15:00.002+02:00

This Friday we'll be taking M's boat out to the island of Stora Tornö for the traditional midsommar celebration. Midsommar is the most anticipated time of year in Sweden, celebrated in late June on the weekend closest to the summer solstice. From what I've heard, the main elements of this party will include eating, drinking, wearing flowers in your hair, more eating, more drinking, singing songs about small frogs, more eating, more drinking, and dancing around the maypole (which some claim is a huge phallic fertility symbol meant to impregnate the earth).

What's not to love about this?

Needless to say, I'm pretty excited to experience a proper Swedish midsommar in the outer archipelago. I'm a little nervous to see how well I can hold up with all the snaps-drinking, but it sounds like there will be plenty of herring, salmon, potatoes, wild pig, and strawberries to balance everything out. Here's a German Ikea commercial that was banned for poking fun at the Swedish midsommar traditions:

Looks like a good time if you ask me!

Farts, fukts, and duschy Swedish

2010-06-14T15:25:00.002+02:00

I'll confess, I tend to have the sense of humor of a 14-year-old boy. Some of the most common Swedish words are funny for an English-speaker to read and say; bra means good, and slut means the end, or to stop something. When I first visited Sweden last year, I couldn't stop giggling over the road signs containing the word for speed, which is fart:

A farthinder is a speed bump, and

an utfart is an exit.

At first glance, fuktslukare sounds the the most complicated and amazing swearword on the planet, especially when it's spelled in a weird wavy font on a mysterious container. But, fukt is humidity and sluka is devour...what we have here is just a drying agent to keep your stuff from rotting.

And finally:

If you're going to be duschy, the least you can do is keep it original.

Long overdue...

2010-06-10T11:21:00.004+02:00

I'm back in Sweden after 6 weeks at sea, and the summer has finally begun: there are lilacs blooming everywhere and our little garden is sprouting away. Now that I have a fast internet connection here at home I'll be able to post more often. Just a few photos around the house....

M's father has been tending our little garden while we've both been away at sea. Lurking somewhere under all that green are cherries, apples, blackberries, potatoes, sunflowers, squash, lettuce, beans, peas, broccoli, carrots, spinach, strawberries, beets, and cucumbers...mmmm!

Our homestead...the big silver thing is M's motorcycle.

There are huge snails everywhere in Sweden.

Special strawberries.

I took all these sunset photos at around 10:30 pm...

Home on the Ö

2010-04-02T17:27:00.003+02:00

The Swedish word for island is ö, and here are a few photos on and around what will soon be my new island home:

In addition to the beautiful scenery, I will also have the honor of living with arguably the World's Cutest and Wisest Dog, Timon. M has another dog named Triss who will someday sit still long enough for me to get a quality photo.

Another blonde in Sweden

2010-03-18T04:23:00.000+01:00

Great news...I just found out today that my 2-year residence permit has been approved. I'm moving to Sweden for real! The entire application process took exactly 1 month and 20 days and was much less painful than I expected. I had been prepared for the worst, as the Swedish migration board's website claims the application processing time takes anywhere from 6-8 months.

So, I'll be heading back to the island of Värmdö with M in mid-April, just in time for spring! I'll post more photos of my new home-to-be when I get back to dry land and fast internet, but in the meantime:

Learning Swedish, part one of many

2010-03-16T03:49:00.005+01:00

I've been studying Swedish on my own for awhile now, and luckily it's a good way to put a damper on the antsy impatience of waiting for my residence permit to be approved while floating around at sea for five weeks. So far the easiest part has been reading Swedish, while pronouncing it is a whole different story...with the addition of the letters Å, Ä, and Ö, the Swedish alphabet has more vowel sounds than I can keep track of.

One of the best ways for me to learn new vocabulary has been to break down each word into smaller chunks that are easier to memorize. Some of the word combinations I've come across are very practical and downright adorable. Here are my favorites so far:

Sköldpadda: Sköld is shield, and padda is toad. A shield-toad is a turtle.
Jordgubbe: This is a weird one...jord is earth/soil and gubbe is a little old man. So essentially a dirty little old man is a strawberry.
Ormbunke: Orm is snake and bunke is bowl. A snake-bowl is a fern.
Tvättbjörn: Tvätt means wash/laundry, and björn is bear. A laundry-bear is a raccoon.
Blixtlås: Blixt is lightning or flash. Lås is a lock. A flash-lock is a zipper.
Noshörning: See if you can figure this one out...yep, a nose-horn is a rhinocerous.
Havstulpan: Hav is sea, and tulpan is tulip. A sea tulip is a barnacle.

Allt om Sverige

2010-03-08T12:54:00.002+01:00

Last fall these lovely young Swedish ladies and I made this video. Starring M's best friend's stepdaughter Sara and daughter Anna...Sara had a lot of fun translating the subtitles for me:

Squirrels on a boat

2010-03-04T18:20:00.002+01:00

Living and working on a boat for five weeks straight sounds like a grand adventure full of danger and excitement....to the people who have never done it before. Okay, so flying in a helicopter to get to your job is pretty cool. Beyond that, the main challenges of living and working on a boat and staring at the water every day don't go too far beyond the mental battle between french fries or salad for dinner. Rough seas? Meh, a minor inconvenience when you're trying to take a shower or eat a bowl of soup. Pirates? Thankfully not a problem (to my knowledge) in the Gulf of Mexico. Capsizing? The boat I'm on at the moment is 81 meters long by 18 meters wide, so it'd take a leeeeeeetle more than your typical winter weather to tip this bucket over. Fires? Food shortages? Scurvy? Nope, nope, and nope. There is safety equipment everywhere you turn and more than enough food to go around. The crews on seismic vessels typically sleep in cozy, carpeted cabins in a temperature-controlled environment amid wireless internet, satellite TV, movie theaters, gyms, saunas, and sometimes even swimming pools. No my friends, the most dangerous, terrifying phenomena I have experienced in my 1.5 years working offshore are (cue scary music):

SQUIRRELS.

Yes, you heard me right, I said squirrels.

Let me explain. A few years ago, my friend's brother said, "A woman's brain is like a squirrel trapped in a cage with its tail caught on fire." I couldn't agree more. I find this analogy oddly comforting...when I catch myself getting overly worried or upset about something silly, I just blame it on the squirrel. It's a good way to explain the touch of psycho over-analyzing that all of us women do, whether we're willing to admit it or not. So, if you're reading this and getting worked up and offended, guess what...IT'S ONLY YOUR SQUIRREL. See, doesn't that feel better?

Unfortunately, once you're stuck in the middle of the sea with nothing around for miles but water and more water, recognizing and effectively controlling a rogue squirrel attack is next to impossible. If there's something nagging in the back of your mind while you're on land, it will get ten times worse when your only plan for the day is to stare at the horizon while your squirrel chatters and rattles the bars of its cage, overthinking, overanalyzing, and occasionally freaking out completely. Perfectly normal emails from loved ones seem confusingly sinister. Sarcastic comments from coworkers get twisted into personal attacks that make you want to crawl back into bed for the rest of the day. Once the evil squirrel has gotten his pointy little claws into your brain, no thought is safe.

Don't get me wrong, I am typically a calm, happy-go-lucky person, and I can't remotely pretend that living on a well-equipped boat full of interesting people is anywhere near the mental toll of something like solo sailing around the world. Some of the people I know have spent entire YEARS at sea. But, the occasional squirrel attack on board, when you really start to question if the thoughts in your head are even your own to begin with, is by far the hardest thing I've had to deal with out here.

Luckily I've gotten better at recognizing a fired-up squirrel and keeping it somewhat tamed with cheesy heartwarming movies (Love Actually is a good one). But, until next time....

The little differences

2010-02-28T05:32:00.004+01:00

Lucky for me and M, our work schedules have allowed us to spend a lot of time visiting each other in our respective countries. Last year I visited Sweden twice, for a total of about nine weeks. It's always fun to see the differences between countries, and this was especially exciting since it was my first visit to Europe. I could go on and on about the major differences between Swedish and US foreign policy, taxes, health care, etc, but instead I'm going to talk about the surprising, sometimes brilliant, sometimes puzzling, little differences that I noticed. I'm excited to start getting used to them.

Bed Linens: Fitted sheets do not exist in Sweden. You just tuck the corners of a bottom flat sheet under the mattress. Also, the bedspread is split into two separate, single-sized quilts: one for each person, so cover-stealing is never an issue.

Booze: The sale of alcohol is regulated by the Swedish Alcohol Retail Monopoly, or Systembolaget. All alcohol is quite expensive, but the fun thing about buying beer is that you can mix and match the different brands of single cans and bottles. The not-so-fun thing about drinking the beer is that Swedes usually consume it warm, and always poured into a glass. I plan to stick to my American roots when it comes to beer drinking: cold, and from the can....sorry guys. (As a side note, all Swedish pharmacies were also government-owned until 2009. When I brought M into a Walgreens he thought it was hilarious that you could pick up your prescription medicine along with a case of beer and a gigantic bag of chips all in the same store).

Candy: On Saturdays, all Swedish kids (and most grownups) are treated to Lördagsgodis, or "Saturday Sweets." It's just like the pick 'n mix style of candy we have here in the US, but with a much bigger selection. So, you grab your little scoop and go to town picking out the different flavors you want. A lot of the candy flavors were a little strange for me...most of them were either big hunks of gumminess or licorice-based, while I prefer anything chocolate. M's favorite is an absolutely vile invention called Jättesalt ("Giant Salt"). This stuff looks like little brown rocks and tastes like you gnawed off a chunk of one of those big salt licks my dad used to put out for the deer. M calls it "proper" candy and was craving it the whole time he was in Texas.

Christmas: I confess, I could normally care less about celebrating Christmas, but I found the Swedish decorations and traditions to be tasteful and beautiful. The houses are decorated with simple white candles in the windows and I didn't see a shred of the technicolor tackiness and materialism that vomits across the US during Christmastime. It was almost enough to make this Scrooge feel all warm and cozy inside.

Food: The four major food groups in Sweden are meat, potatoes, fish, and coffee. I thought most of the food was delicious, wholesome, and simple, mostly due to the fact that M is an amazing cook who makes everything from scratch with meat that he's slayed with his own Vikingesque hands. Once again though, some of the dishes were a little too salty for my taste. One thing I tried that I don't think I'll ever develop a taste for was blodpudding, a type of crumbly sausage made from dried pig blood and other fillers. My favorites were the endless piles of kantarelle mushrooms we picked in the forest.

Swedes love food that comes in tubes, whether it's caviar, bacon-flavored cheese, or crab-flavored mayonnaise. The refrigerators in Sweden even have special little racks where you can hang all your food-tubes.

Front Door Etiquette: When you come inside any house in Sweden, you MUST take your shoes off at the door. Accidentally stepping more than a few feet into the house with your shoes still on will earn you immediate status as a dirty savage. Don't do it.

Grocery stores: In order to get a cart, you deposit a few coins into a machine that holds all the carts locked together. Sweden's dairy section was probably the most impressive...I have never seen so many different types of yogurt in one place. I was also pretty excited about the mix-your-own-granola section. In some stores, each child gets a free organic banana per visit. Also, you pay for each grocery bag, so you have to eyeball the amount of stuff you're buying and decide ahead of time how many bags you'll need.

Laundry: For some unknown reason, it takes over an hour and a half for a regular cycle of laundry to finish in a Swedish washing machine. When M visited me in Texas, he was convinced there was no way clothes could get clean in a 30-minute washer cycle. Also, you can't forget to empty out the big plastic water tank in the dryer between loads. I spent about three hours trying to dry a load of laundry at M's house before I realized they were still wet because the water tank was full.

Nudity: Compared to our uptight American culture, Swedes are not afraid of their bodies. Butts and boobs are common sights on television, and are seen as normal as an arm or a leg. Photos of women in magazines are average and healthy-looking without tons of airbrushing. I picked up a typical housewife-y magazine at the gym and stumbled across an article blatantly illustrating different shapes to shave into your pubic hair, complete with smiling women and their landing strips, lightning bolts, and hearts. No big deal.

"Pizza": Sweden has gotten creative with its pizza toppings, to say the least. The normal pizzas were pretty good, a little thin on the sauce...but some of the more innovative toppings included eggs, peanuts, bananas, curry sauce, and tuna fish. Thanks, but no thanks.

Urban sprawl (or lack thereof): Within just a few minutes after driving outside the city limits, you find yourself amid huge, real forests with craggy rock cliffs and tall pines...not a bulletin board, strip mall, office complex, or condo to be seen. After a few miles you get to the next town and back to civilization, but being surrounded by native forest reminds you of what the landscape is supposed to look like.

Yarrrrr.

2010-02-24T20:36:00.004+01:00

I'm headed back to work tomorrow morning to live for five weeks on a seismic research vessel in the Gulf of Mexico. I work as a marine mammal observer, surveying for whales, dolphins, and sea turtles and ensuring the vessel is working in compliance with protected species regulations. What this boils down to is that I watch the ocean for hours on end, every day, for five weeks straight. Some days can be exciting while others can be very tedious...just when you think there can't possibly be any animals for miles and you feel like your eyeballs will never recover from staring at the blue sky and horizon, something interesting makes an appearance, be it a sperm whale, sea turtle, dolphin, rainbow, flying fish, or disheartening piles of garbage floating by.

My early morning coffee with a couple of warblers.

Bottlenose Dolphin. Photo by Jen Leo

This is a sperm whale's dorsal hump (back), preparing to dive below the surface.

Photo by Melissa Hayes

Green Sea Turtle. Photo by Melissa Hayes

Getting paid to watch each sunrise and sunset.

Seismic vessel BOS Atlantic, in port off the south coast of Australia.

This is always good advice!

Did You Know...

2010-02-23T20:51:00.002+01:00

If you live in the United States, you may realize that we can be embarrassingly uninformed about other countries, especially the ones on the other side of the ocean. I've decided to start off with a few of the wonderful things we can thank Sweden for bringing into our lives:

1. ABBA

2. IKEA

3. Volvo

4. Pippi Longstocking (Pippi Långstrump)

5. Smorgasboard (Smörgåsbord)

6. Absolut Vodka

7. Carl Linneaus, Father of Modern Taxonomy

8. Meatballs (Köttbullar)

9. Ingrid Bergman

10. Swedish Fish

Contrary to some beliefs, the following items are NOT, in fact, Swedish:

Swiss Army Knives (duh)

The Swedish Bikini Team (invented in the US for Old Milwaukee beer commercials)

Lederhosen (German)

Saunas (Finnish)

The Swedish Chef

My first blog...yikes.

2010-02-23T18:36:00.001+01:00

I'm currently in the process of applying for a 2-year residence permit in Sweden to move in with my sweet Swedish sea captain M. I work offshore as an environmental consultant and when we met on board in early 2009 it was all downhill from there. We're hoping the paperwork will be approved within the next few months and I'll be able to move to the beautiful island farm where he lives in the Stockholm Archipelago. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world!

To get this moving-to-Sweden timeline started, my permit application was received at the Embassy of Sweden in Washington DC on January 25, 2010, and I was interviewed at the Consulate of Sweden in Houston on February 16th. Now comes the waiting game...my Swede and I will be working on separate ships over the next six weeks, and unfortunately we have become experts at being away from each other. I have my fingers crossed that Sweden will be welcoming another blonde within the next few months.

In the meantime I'm going to try out this blogging thing...they say all the kids are doing it nowadays so I suppose I should give it a shot. As a disclaimer I will say that I'll most likely stray from the topic of Sweden into random stories about my previous wanderings as a nomadic wildlife biologist, homeschooled eldest-of-seven, and Peace Corps Guatemala volunteer. We'll see where it ends up!