Light Reflections on Stockholm

april weather...in march

2009-03-24T21:22:00.003+01:00

--It's typical April weather today

My husband described the local weather in Stockholm that April before I moved here. He used the expression "April weather" as if it universally signified a well known fact. However, he knew it was lost on me and explained further:

--You can get any kind of weather in April. It can be sunny in the morning then turn to a snow storm then return to sun, add some hail perhaps some rain, bring back the snow and simultaneouly spout sunshine.

That's pretty much what today's weather was in Stockholm. Well, in parts of Stockholm. At certain times.

Driving northbound on the E4 (they call that leg Uppsalavägen --I am become a motorist) I drove from puffy clouds and blue sky into a raging blizzard where visibilty dropped to a few hundred feet (about 100 yards) and then before leaving the highway at my exit drove out of the blizzard wall back into a glorious day.

One moment of beauty was returning to the house. In a spurt of snow dusting the ground was blanketed in white. It came so suddenly that no others had had the time to drive up our road as I pulled in. Only our footprints and treads patterned the street and our drive as if we lived isolated in the woods...well for a while anyway.

swedish ground hog day. he saw his shadow.

2009-02-02T11:26:00.003+01:00

Sweden doesn't celebrate Ground Hog Day nor do they even have a far-fetched equivalent. But were there to be some throw back to Nordic legendary traditions, the Stockholm Ground Dog definitely saw his shadow this morning and we're looking at a long wait until spring.

I remember something about 6 weeks until spring as the time span in the American version, though I can't remember if that is the long or short wait. For Stockholm weather I think I'd be thrilled to know that spring had a chance to arrive in 6 weeks. We don't get to follow the equinoxes as gateways to seasons (nor solstices).

Swedes classify seasons as a measure of meeting a temperature level (above or below) for a number of days in a row. With this classification system you get definitions of tropical summers in Stockholm or possibly a start to the summer some time in July.

Being an agrarian society there's still a lot of modern legend based on days of the almanac, i.e. the days sowing, planting or harvesting should begin or when hunting or crayfish season rounds out. These calendar dates are bigger influences to when it's ok to cast off your winter hat or wear shorts.

I was chastised by a pre-school chum of X's when I came in sandals too early in the spring. I tried to break the yoke of the farmer's almanac on this new generation by asking if she thought it would be ok for me to wear shorts and sandals if the same weather we were having had been in July. She thought so. Maybe she's more receptive to a more liberal seasonal delineation.

Or a Swedish Ground Hog Day.

ice and snow. or lack thereof

2009-01-26T12:34:00.002+01:00

The most snowfall Stockholm has seen this season came in November and we missed it being in Boston. We have had a few dustings, some freezing and two big thaws. The most snowfall Boston has seen this season (and probably over a lengthier period of time) has come since we left Boston.

My parents, 80&81, have been shoveling and hacking at ice since we left and we've barely had enough snow to scrape together a mini-snowman which promptly melted two days later in the first thaw.

Winter returned to Stockholm long enough to refreeze the lakes for great skating. But then it departed with a cover of ice on all open areas and secondary roads. This past weekend people could have skated to the neighbor's house. The school's parking lot across the street from us was as close to a skating rink as any could be. I was tempted to put skates on X and let him practice. I would have had we not done other indoor activities.

I see more water and green grass than snow outside my window today. Will winter ever take a true hold?

snow shoveling

2009-01-20T09:59:00.002+01:00

I shoveled for the first time in 15 years of living in Sweden. That's mostly because I now have a drive to shovel, but it's also because Stockholm doesn't get much snow.

Snow can fall from evening to morning to evening again and there's barely a build up. Coming from Boston where snow accumulates to school shut down in a few hours I was originally amazed that we never get more than a few inches (around a decimeter) at any given snowfall.

My driveway is long. While I shoveled the melting inch today for fun. I know there will be a day I'll have to do it to get the car out on a cold morning in a hurry. And I don't think I'll be sad that deep snow is rare in Stockholm..

long distance skating

2009-01-19T10:55:00.002+01:00

Skating seemed to be the activity of choice for a significant population of Stockholm's outdoorsy type. Already out on the ice I had in mind that my Facebook status update would read that I had strapped on my long blades for the first time in a few years. Several of my FB friends had beat me to it so I got to make comments like "Me too" on their status. Though feeling far from original I eventually posted my outdoor achievement.

The teachers at dagis were also out on the ice this weekend and the morning polite banter revolved around ice skating. Some had skated on Saturday in no wind and beautiful January sunshine and others (like us) braved the wind and overcast skies for a first-time-out-in-ages glide.

It's amusing to consider what a frozen lake signifies in Sweden when compared to a cosmopolitan upbringing in a warning-sign oriented USA. Here people speak lovingly of good ice (smooth and without snow) and prevailing winds for tail-wind journeys of long distance outings, while in the greater Boston area, venturing onto an icecovered lake is on par with the recklessness of running with scissors.

Now that we live walking distance to Stockholm's most popular skating lake, it might be time for an investment in a better pair of skates.

breaking the block

2008-12-08T10:20:00.002+01:00

Last post March 27, 2008.

I have been in a slump. Well, that's the only explanation when I haven't had a post in 9 months. Nine months. I could have had a baby in this time.

The trouble with a slump, writer's block, laziness, procrastination or whatever you would like to call it, is; Breaking the block. And the lack of posting perpetuates the void. Every thought of a new post was overrun by a gripping anxiety of what could be big enough or good enough to post about with such a long hiatus.

So here it is. About getting restarted after a stall. Nothing magical, nothing fascinating, nothing thought-provoking. But an official post and therefore a new start.

good journey john aherne

2008-03-26T23:36:00.002+01:00

They dived last week, Easter Sunday, Tuesday and yesterday. Then they brought in a ROV. In the end they located his body this morning a few meters from the quayside at six meters depth.

Yesterday at around 5pm I walked from the restaurant he left his coat and phone down to the water. On my way I tried to locate CCTV camera which could possibly reveal a lead. I reflected and noted the ample options of trees, bushes cached corners someone could consider if a need to relieve oneself presented itself.

The distance between the door and the water isn't great, but it required crossing a square, navigating residential buildings and finally crossing a broad cobblestone quay. I just can't fathom the motivation to take that path, without a coat while a private item sat on a bar.

I didn't know John Aherne. I've only once met his friend, Karl Lambert, his friend who sounded the alarm and initiated a thread on the Local.se which resulted in an outpouring of positive thoughts for John as well as wonderful anecdotes by his friends, family and other well wishers. He sounds like a most wonderful man. In taking that walk I couldn't help but try to put myself into the head of man who was at that moment still missing.

John is found.

He has touched a great number of people. Farewell John. May you have a good journey.

missing irishman

2008-03-22T01:10:00.002+01:00

John Aherne is still missing.

I don't know him personally. I know the friend he was visiting albeit rather casually. However, that link to reality makes a news story a real life drama in my life. I'm following the follow up given by his friend, Karl Lambert, along with other friends of Karl and John's to us in our "community".

It's easy to read about hundreds, thousands, even millions killed or tortured or otherwise suffering and not blink. It torments me to have a second-hand tie to what must be the most tortuous waiting period for friends and family of John's --and Karl's. Reality really hits home. It sounds so obvious, but until you can connect personally, all the horrors of the world are still just stories.

This one is real for me.

It is also rather disconcerting to have an excellent awareness of the exact location of where John was last seen and the area of Stockholm water that the police are currently searching.

I think everyone is starting to accept the worst case scenario. Now the why, how and what's begin.

My heart and hope goes out to John, Karl and all their loved ones.

And if anyone has any information at all....Please please please contact the police.

dello sport international: boston's north end

2008-03-17T05:33:00.003+01:00

I just had to take a picture

tourist in your own town

2008-03-16T06:34:00.002+01:00

People rarely visit their own towns. It's pretty obvious why we aren't tourists in our own town. But we really ought to be. Our own towns often have a lot more to offer than we give them credit for.

I'm actually pretty good at knowing "my own town". I definitely know Stockholm, probably on par with any travel or tourist guide. On the whole, I could probably stack up more knowledgeable than most guides. I may not get all the dates and historical names right, but I know what Stockholm has to offer and I've experienced it as a tourist, as a long term resident and as a guide.

I used to think I knew Boston. I have also been a resident and a guide. However, as a resident first, you tend to guide with prejudice. You stick to what you know and what you think is the best Boston has to offer.

I don't know if it's because I've been absent from Boston as a resident for so many years or if Boston has changed so much during that time, but I recently rediscovered this marvelous town and feel sad that I haven't and won't explore it more.

The visit of my Swedish niece and her Iowan boyfriend put me into the North End and Charlestown. I ate in one of those North End restaurants that everyone who visits Boston talks about. It was amazing. There was a surreal feeling for me as if I were part of a movie set rather than just a few miles away from my birthplace and childhood home. I was reminded how locally restricted Bostonians are when I was talking to the woman in the restaurant. She is probably the mama who owns and runs the restaurant and has probably lived her life in the North End. She might have moved to a nearby suburb when they got wealthier; probably Medford.

Telling her I had grown up in Watertown didn't seem to convey the sense of "from here" I had intended it to. I knew she knew of it, but I realized as I was saying it it probably had the same relevance as if I met someone who said they had grown up in Medford, i.e. --pretty much nothing besides the "not too far from here" but a world apart.

I was a tourist in my own town. I liked exploring it and expanding my horizons even if just a tad.

On reflection: I think I would have been a tourist in the North End even if I were still living in Boston.

a swede in america

2008-03-08T12:37:00.002+01:00

We crossed the proverbial pond to visit Grandma and Grandpa. That's the most accurate way to describe our trip since the primary beneficiaries are the kids and the grandparents. This trip is for them. I will try to take advantage of the crumbs and morsels of the leftovers.

Moving on. There is always the element of reverse culture shock. In my opinion this doesn't have to be negative. While getting of the plane encumbered by somewhat sleeping infant in baby carrier, a backpack and carry on, I had a small boy who was miserable having been awoken from his sleep. He pulled it together to walk off the plane on his own. Unfortunately, his grogginess makes him rather clumsy. Tripping up the walkway from the plane, he had a rough arrival on US soil. The shock came from the outpouring of people offering, even insisting on helping me. I was touched. Unfortunately, the only thing I really needed was someone to mind X, but in that state he wants only mommy or daddy. But someone we managed. And I thanked the group of people who tried to help.

In the baggage claim the first observation X made was hearing a child his age speaking. He looked at me in wonder and said, "He speaks English like I do." Funnily enough that everybody speaks English hasn't fazed him after that initial observation.

Jet lag hinders any blog entries of any literary value. I think I'll stop here for now.

revolving door of freinds

2008-02-24T13:44:00.003+01:00

You get used to friends coming into and departing from your life in this jet-set age. People move and move on faster and more frequently than ever in our modern society --barring the nomads, but even they just wander around the same territory which is a form of permanence in fact.

I'm guilty of the same derooting as I now live on the other side of the Atlantic from where I was born. Of course I am only fulfilling my genetic destiny as each of my parents are transplants from cultures and countries far far away from their current home. However, in our defense, we are rather "stuck" once we find our new homes. But that's another blog entry.

Today is dedicated to mourning the departure of a close friend. I am writing about it because my sorrow has caught me off guard. After all, I am very well experienced and accustomed to making and waving goodbye to good friends. It's my deal in life and I nonchalantly feel I am immune to the sting of a departure. Not today.

Perhaps it's because it's caught me off guard. I normally numb down as the date approaches and see the departure as a temporary trip or international placement. Today's news was unexpected and I feel cheated on my transition period. Also, I'm going to miss this dear friend.

Today is the first time I understand a self-protection method I've seen others use that I've scoffed at. Some of us "lifers" have a friend policy which prohibits the making of a new friend if that friend is not expected to stay permanently in the country. It's a form of interviewing process that makes a pre-requisite of loyalty to a friendship. They have no more energy to devote to building a friendship when it is doomed to be broken, or at best estranged. I won't ever adopt this mentality. It's not in me.

But for the first time in my life with friends coming and going I have considered that I would feel less emotional pain today if I had taken this stance 3 years ago. After all. I knew back then our friendship's days were numbered.

I'm hanging on to the thought that with internet and cheap flights our friendship will endure. And sometimes they do.

electronic gear and hip factor

2008-02-01T23:32:00.000+01:00

I've entered the jet-set modern age. I officially own and have operated a Blue Tooth Hands-free headset for my phone. I am now one of the movers and shakers of weekday Stockholm (weekend Stockholm is full of bridge and tunnel people.)

Now I can also annoy people when I speak too loud because I am not sure if they can hear me since the microphone is basically at my earlobe.

Now I can also confuse people when I speak to seemingly no one or perhaps in their direction and they wonder who I'm talking to. Hello people...I've got an ear piece headset people...Welcome to the future!

Now I can impress my friends that I can do other things with my hands like hold the steering wheel or my handlebars or the grip of the baby carriage while going down an escalator.

Now I can lose or break two things.

Now I have FOUR things to keep track of when I leave the house.

Spectacles, testicles, watch, wallet. Wait...where's the Blue Tooth Ear piece headset in that?

living at ikea

2008-01-11T21:41:00.001+01:00

If a event/phenomenon randomly repeats and inter-connects on a given day, albeit a total coincidence, it can definitely earn the right to dictate the theme of the day. If that's the case then today is IKEA day.

My day was structured around a quick excursion to IKEA --now that's an oxymoron. Ironically, despite being 25 behind my original schedule I arrive 20 minutes BEFORE opening. Also, despite a limited need and a devilish plan I only achieved about half of my mission before I had to scad-addle back to pick up the Bean.

I thought I had left behind IKEA as I went to Hedgehogs. When recounting my failure someone reminded that there was someone living at the NJ IKEA. Haphazardly I found a thread on LIS about this guy.

Mark Malkov is currently finishing out his week living at IKEA in Paramus, NJ.

silver and gold

2008-01-08T14:49:00.000+01:00

We spent New Year's Eve at a real party. By "real" I mean that it started after 9pm (so not a dinner party) and it was a collection of people mingling about drinks in hand. Most people didn't know more than a handful of other guests.

It was a diverse gathering of people too. 20-something up to 50-ish I would guess. Couples with kids, singles, gays, straights, drunk and sober. The theme was "Panic at the Disco" so everyone had something in common. And with 4 official hosts, it was more complex than a wedding when asking the "How do you fit in here" question.

We took our infant of "and a half" with us. She was a hit and got spoiled with the amount of attention she attracted. She was also a "chick and dick" magnet. Everyone seemed more open to chat us up --mostly very innocently, but it did result in our meeting a large number of party acquaintances and potential new friends.

And now with the Facebook phenomenon it has become so much easier to "hook up" with your new party friend. Within days I had made the "contact" with that person who had become the darling party buddy. Those friends are normally like one-night stands. You fall in love for the evening, exchange contact details, promise to be best friends forever and slowly fade from each other's memories as the glow of the glitzy night fades. No more.

Currently, I'm "dating" one of my three new facebook buddies that I met at the party. We're exchanging messages and getting to know one another. I think I have a new friend on the way.

As a child there was a song we learned which went:
Make new friends
But keep the old,
One is silver and the other gold.

Here's to new and old friends.

in need of telepathic writing program

2008-01-08T14:38:00.000+01:00

Every day I notice something that makes me stop and think "That would make a great entry for my blog." The I get back to my computer, check emails, poke around on Facebook, quibble a bit on an on-line forum and have absolutely no inspiration to reflect on Stockholm.

I need an intuitive, telepathic program that can record what I see with my eyes and the composition of text formulating in my head as I walk. There are Bluetooth headpieces for cellular phones(still need me one of those) why not Bluetooth dictation to my laptop?

OK you inventors out there. Get crakin'

christmas eve's eve

2007-12-24T00:18:00.000+01:00

It's the night before the night before Christmas.

Swedes celebrate xmas on its eve. In doing so, "Christmas" becomes the 24th rather than the 25th. So the big day is tomorrow (or --looking at the clock --today.)

Stockholm has been abandoned to hometowns and country homes by a large chuck of its population. There's an eerie emptiness in the streets echoing the absence of cars and people normally milling about in the evening.

We're going to have our first attempt of cultural meld this xmas. Julafton (Christmas eve) will be celebrated in traditional Swedish style. We'll be gathered at my sister-in-law's--my MIL and my SIL's FIL as well. At 3pm the TV will be tuned to SVT to watch the hour-long medley of Disney that a generation of Swedes have grown up watching. There was a time when that was all they got of Disney--all year long. After the program we'll eat the assortment of herrings, ribs, ham, meatballs and potatoes and then...someone will have to "go out and buy the newspaper" and in that person's absence --Tomten (Santa--though literally translated --the elf) will come.

Tomten delivers the presents, spends a moment and moves on. Then the ritual of present distribution begins. And it's orderly in our family. One present to one person who reads the rhyme if there is one (it's a 50/50 chance with us), makes a guess, then opens the gift and passes it around. Then the next present and so on. Present opening can literally last hours.

So here's our cross-cultural conundrum. How do we harmonize the visit of Tomten with the night-time magical delivery of Santa on his sleigh and his eight reindeer?

I so want to preserve the magic of "waking up to Christmas"--when weary-eyed children fight to beat the sandman to see Santa make the drop. Only in the wee hours of the morning when they wake do they see that they've missed him, but he's kindly left a collection of requested and coveted gifts.

This year the story is going to be:

As Santa is from Sweden (and the north pole) he starts off here. But then he has to go off to deliver presents to all the rest of the kids in the world. Since we're American too, those presents get delivered at the same time, i.e. in the middle of the night (he's got quite a lot of presents to deliver.)

We'll see how the story gets swallowed and digested tomorrow and the day after. This year is a big one for the Bean. He's giving away his pacifier to Santa in exchange for a Percy train. It could be a long night Christmas eve.

charlie brown xmas tree

2007-12-08T00:31:00.000+01:00

My mother told me that the deal she struck with my father when they married was that they'd always have a "real" Christmas tree. He hasn't had to hold up his end; she just goes and buys one.

Like it or not, you become your parents in one way or another. You start telling that dumb joke or worse, you start using the same "I told you so" retorts. I have always honored the "real" Christmas tree requirement.

This year I did my mother one better. My tree is not only "real" --it's alive in a pot complete with roots. It's a mini dwarfed by the neighboring palms in our window, but it's as real as real gets and now lit and decorated.

My plan is to keep it alive and make it a Christmas guest year in and year out. I hope I can keep it alive longer than the orchids we get as gifts. Orchids never grow old in our care.

Merry Merry.

the secret club : parenthood

2007-11-29T20:22:00.000+01:00

I would never have guessed that becoming a mommy living in Stockholm,would open doors. The new perks weren't immediately obvious since life with an infant is still pretty much like being a non-parent with a permanent engagement. You can just as well hang out in the same places you once did rather than try to elbow into the parent crowd at the park.

Things started to change once the Bean was old enough to enjoy the park. Then going to the park became a destination for him to enjoy, rather than any random place for us to spend time together. Slowly, so slowly I started recognizing familiar faces and getting to know the names of other regular children. And certainly vice versa.

Now moving about the neighborhood is like mixing with an extended network of acquaintances. And while it seems to newcomers to Stockholm that neighbors don't get to know each other. There's no doubt that parents do. Parenthood has its privileges and my wonderful neighborhood got more wonderful.

mink on a bike

2007-11-29T10:54:00.000+01:00

I got outclassed yesterday. Riding toward town in my consulting clothes along Södermälarstrand I came up on a woman wearing not only a skirt, tights and fashionable boots, but also a mid-length mink coat and a stylish woolen hat.

All these years on my mountain bike I have enjoyed the subtle looks I get wearing business wear while on two wheels and the kick I get from the cycling fascists who see me and think "Chick in a skirt" when they try to overtake and fail.

This woman in her mink fur has raised the bar for me and make me sad that I didn't go for the hubby's suggestion to turn up to our wedding on bikes.

walk on by

2007-11-27T01:09:00.000+01:00

On my way to baby massage which is held in the same room as the play group I was surprised to see people leaving with children. It struck me that the normal open play group was closed for this week and next.

So despite my advance "against the tide" and the looks of the departing parents, no one volunteered that the play group was closed.

Perhaps they knew that something was going on and didn't want to presume. I don't know. Perhaps they sent clear signals that something was amiss...I don't know. I know that no one vocally informed me. I still find that odd.

Some day I'm going to figure out these Swedes.

parents paradise --kids are cheap by rail

2007-11-27T00:36:00.000+01:00

This country is designed to be the parents paradise. Generous parental leave, subsidized and highly affordable child care and incredible tolerance and respect for children as a part of the daily life. But I think the railway company has gone overboard. Kids get seats for quite nearly nothing. While it's literal, it should be. 2 Children can accompany a paying adult complete with a reserved seat for.....20 kronor --round trip --IN TOTAL--anywhere.

I just bought tickets Stockholm-Malmö for two adults and three kids. One of the minis is the 5-month old daughter. She gets her own seat. The total price is 2480 for FIVE seats. For two adults alone I think that's a pretty hefty fare (mind you it's a reduced saver's fare.) Full price in 2nd class would be that much for one adult.

Now I'm not complaining as I'm now on the receiving end. But the former non-parent in me says "That's not really fair" for the childless or childfree when traveling. Reduction in price? Yes please. Virtually free? --why?

(in)famous café

2007-11-24T21:13:00.001+01:00

You tend to take things for granted in your own backyard. Or in this case, your front yard.

We have a café across the street which is known all over Stockholm. People from the other side of town come here just to go to the café. Personally I love the café because of its roll in our neighborhood. It's the central pulse of daily life and its personalities make my adopted home just that: home.

This is despite the ironic fact that I'm not much of a café person. Mostly because for most of my life I have been unable to have a cup of coffee much later than 10 am if I want to sleep well that night and I'm no early bird. It's been a cruel irony for most of my adult life since I've spent most of that life in European capitals, Paris, Budapest and now Stockholm. Granted, when I first got to Stockholm in 1992, the number of cafés which served anything as "exotic" as a cappuccino were highly limited.

Two kids later, the greatest gift they've given me --beyond the obvious of the wonders of their most precious lives--is the newfound virtuosity to drink coffee pretty much all day long. Additionally, my Bean, is most often very excited to go to the café. Partly because they've made him a cookie junkie (he never gets cookies, candy, ice cream or overly sweetened drinks at home) and partly because he's treated as "one of the gang." So I've been spending more time at the café either drinking a latte or just stopping by.

Turns out the 175cm-tall Barista (if he's 175cm tall, I'm 55kg) has started a blog. I read the first few entries a month ago and then like most of my intentions to read/write, get put off for later. I just spent the past couple of hours reading through all of the posts to date. Damn if I must say it's freakingly hilarious. Most fun is when the anonymous characters, staff and patrons alike, are all too obvious and someone I know. I get the same chuckle reading Francis Strand's blog --still my all-time favorite blog about Stockholm --sorry Barista (but yours is an ever encroaching second;-)

we're trailer trash

2007-10-23T00:24:00.000+02:00

We just spent our first night in our new trailer up at Gryttjom at our skydiving club. Well, "new" isn't really the accurate adjective for your trailer. It's from 1977, but we're the proud new owners.

We bought it because if we have any hope to keep up skydiving we need somewhere that is "ours" when we're up at the DZ (drop zone for you wuffos--non-skydivers.) It's nestled in the woods just before you get to the clubhouse...There are a few dozen others as neighbors. I suppose you can say we're in good company.

I never slept in a trailer before. Ours isn't the lap of luxury nor the epitome of comfort. The mattress is just 120cm wide and we were a threesome. We're gonna have to make it work better for us.

Saturday night we drove up just to be social. We dumped Xander at Farmor's but brought Kimber. She was the life of the party, well...everyone wooed over her. I am biased, but she is damn cute with all that hair. And since she's incredibly alert and engaging, people are drawn to her. Funnily enough after people had there share holding her they always gave her back to me even when Johan was closer...

semester stängt --gone fishing

2007-09-10T10:36:00.000+02:00

Small business close for vacation here in Stockholm. If I said "here in Sweden" it wouldn't be too crazy, after all, Sweden is a European country and rather family friendly. But now we're talking a capital city of Europe.

I just walked past the local pizza place owned and run by one of the invading Italians of the 'hood --long story, will post on it later. The sign says, "Semester Stängt" or Closed for vacation. I'm used to seeing the signs during the summer but it seemed a bit "bad for business" to be closed during the real season. It seemed reasonable when it was only for one week.

But that got me thinking. It is completely reasonable for a business to shut its doors, scribble a sign telling you why the lights ain't on, and not lose your client base. Fabulous.

Now as a customer, when I am too tired/lazy to nuke some meatballs and boil water for pasta and I want to order a pizza I am going to be annoyed that Luigi has gone off gosh only knows where, but...I am going to order a pizza the next time when he's back.

Good for Stockholm's small businesses and their understanding customers that plainly and simply we all need to just lock the doors, pull the blinds and write "Gone Fishin'" once in a while.

park transformation

2007-08-28T16:11:00.001+02:00

The autumn chill has hit. It's most evidenced in the park near our apartment. Last week when the temperature was 20 and the sun was out, Högalidsparken's playground and wading pool was jam packed with children and parents after a day of work/dagis.

Today's brisk 15 degrees, grey and gusts of wind couldn't keep everyone away. However I only counted a handful as we scurried by trying to get K2 out of the wind while she screamed for a meal.

I'm really going to miss this park. Even in the dead of winter there are children and adults in the park in any weather and at nearly any hour.

last minute crayfish party

2007-08-28T16:07:00.001+02:00

Swedes are not known to be spontaneous. We are a bit of an odd pair among our friends since we tend to do everything last minute. This past Friday evening we decided to throw a last-minute crayfish party for any of our friends living near our house who had nothing better to do. Seems most people had nothing better to do.

We ended up with 12 adults and 12 children.

Helan Går!

guiness book world record in ukulele

2007-08-18T16:58:00.000+02:00

Unbeknownst to either of us, we live a stone's throw away from the 2007 Ukulele Festival grounds. This year they attempted and succeeded at breaking the Guiness World Record for the largest ukulele orchestra.

401 ukuleles plunked out the two chords of Hang Down your Head Tom Dooley and another Swedish song sharing the same two chords for over five minutes. They succeeded on the third attempt.

Apparently the first time 'round they fell short of the required length of time and only played for four minutes 34 seconds. The second go exceeded the required five minutes but to make absolutely sure they clinched the honor, they did it a fifth time.

This was serious stuff. In order to qualify for the honor of setting the record each participant had to not only sign up, show off their ukulele but also demonstrate they could play BOTH chords. I was immediately disqualified. I lacked both.

K2 gave it a try. She wasn't pleased with the result

nakedness and pubic peeing

2007-08-18T00:31:00.000+02:00

I have to say I appreciate living in Sweden for its relaxed view on nudity and using nature to relieve oneself. Mostly as it applies with convenience to having a 3-year old during the summer in the midst of potty training.

We live near a wonderful park that has a fabulous wading pool that's the joy of every young child this side of Södermalm. It's irregularly shaped and built into the natural landscape and bathed in sunshine after a day at dagis. It's the natural weigh station on the way home waiting for Daddy to come home.

It's also where we parents get to chat with one another and build friendships with nameless mothers and fathers of the Amandas, Eriks and other children we know the names of. But that's another entry.

Often we go prepared with swim trunks and a towel, but more often that not recently we arrive as we are. And the Bean strips down and frolics naked, matching at least half of the other kids. Yesterday he even rode a trike around naked...albeit with sandals. And there's no scandal, no shame and no paranoia of the potential of lurking pedophiles.

The Bean is also succeeding splendidly in his endeavor to rid himself of the diaper. Consequently he has a frequent need to relieve himself. Thankfully the sight of a parent taking a young child off to do his/her business behind a bush, or at least up against it, is rather normal. It's made the walks to and from dagis less stressful too. Inevitably, somewhere about halfway between one toilet and the next the Bean will need to pee...despite having done one for the road.

Maybe it disturbs others who are not as familiar with the comfort of Swedes in the natural environment. Personally, I'm trilled.

congestion tax

2007-08-15T23:07:00.000+02:00

Congestion fee, environmental tax, rip off...call it what you will. Anyway, I just paid it for the first time.

I am still amazed that enough people accept the double taxation for the Stockholm driver. I have argued this so many times that I really just ought to copy and paste my arguments but at this point I just can't be bothered.

OK, forget the usual complaints. What equally frustrates me is the payment plan. Apparently if you sign up for an automatic debit each day you are levied the tax it would be deducted from your account and all is clear. That made me presume that it would be equally tallied via the pay by internet option...but noooooooo.

Once logged on via ebanking each date is listed and the amount per day is displayed. Excellent. The total owed for the car 45kr--is also displayed. Great. On to forking over the unjust tax. Manually I had to enter the date and that date's amount due. Since there were three dates to date (a whole lot of dating going on now) I had to flip between internet windows to get the date and amount right. The option to pay 45kr in one swoop doesn't exist. And of course I messed up and wrote the wrong amount for one of the dates. Could I edit? No...Do over.

Finally, 45kr divided up as 10, 20 and 15 was paid in via the hubby's Handelsbanken account. Let's see if all worked.

Or will another entry be the frustration of paying the late fee?

boston accent

2007-08-15T22:23:00.000+02:00

Somehow my 3-year old son has picked up and exaggerated a Boston accent. I wonder where he got it from.

While there's still remains of the accent in my speech, I know that my Boston-speak is mild and subtle. It makes me wonder how he's managed to pick it up. Is it that he hears it and goes overboard as a child might? Or is it a very funny coincidence?

tall ships

2007-07-29T23:59:00.000+02:00

The Tall Ships are in town so we went down to take in the might of these fabulous ships.

It's hard with two kids in tow, especially when one is cranky and the other is a new born.

The weather wasn't really helpful either, alternating between glorious sunshine or miserable rain. One or the other gives you a chance to make a decision --'Should I stay or should I go'---

We did go aboard Tre Kronor--Briggen. It's nice to see her as a ship afloat. She's come a long way from the timbers we have witnessed evolve in her cradle on Skeppsholmen.

Tomorrow we'll watch the parade in the harbor.

1kr for a bag

2007-07-06T15:20:00.000+02:00

I just paid 1kr for a plastic bag at Lagerhaus--a trend setting knickknack shop with high-priced crap. Some stuff is fun so I like to peek in and buy me some cheap crap.

Ringing up cheap crap I see that Lagerhaus has joined the penny-pinching retailers who charge customers for a bag to carry their goodies home. Back when, only supermarkets and IKEA were stingy enough to charge for a bag. Systembolaget followed suit and now the flash retailers have turned to sucking pennies/kronor out of us consumers.

I was so close to asking the poor shop assistant, "Isn't it embarrassing to charge customers a krona for a bag?" Because it has to be. You buy several hundred kronor of inventory and they want to charge a krona--one krona--to take it home with you in a bag.

The argument I hear people use to defend this greedy practice is "Otherwise people take a whole bunch of bags home with them." However, before this trend mushroomed, the retail shops put your purchases in a bag they took from behind the counter and handed you the whole shebang. Now you not only have to pay for the bag, but put your own cheap crap away.

I can accept that I'm stuck somewhere between a cheapskate and thrifty with irrational bursts of spend-thriftiness. I would like to think I am always generous --but that's not what this is about.

It's about us consumers allowing ourselves to get suckered out of kronor here and there and we think it's just and fair...we're fools. If I have a shop and I could get away with having people pay an admission fee I suppose I would do it. If people are wasteful enough with their money to throw it away--I suppose my motto should be the same as the cheap crap shops...

Throw it my way.

summer parking

2007-07-04T23:40:00.000+02:00

As anyone with with a car and no assigned parking spot in Stockholm knows: Parking sucks. Well, most of the year.

Summer is actually a dream-come-true for finding a spot; there's always one somewhere. It's so easy these days that if I can't find a spot within a hundred meters of our front door I feel cheated.

There's an illegal spot across the street that never gets ticketed. It's not legal because it's not 10m in from the intersection. For some unknown reason the parking guards leave it alone. Unofficially, we've feel the cheat spot--as we call it, is as close to what we'll ever have as our reserved spot. At this point, a 450-700kr ticket would be cheap rent for all the times we've used it.

Before we end on the topic of ideal times to park, the absolutely most ideal time to find a parking spot on the streets of Stockholm is the evening of Midsommar's Eve. One year we came home to a nearly empty street.

One can only dream.

understanding dog and whale speak

2007-07-01T15:15:00.000+02:00

Like in Finding Nemo when Dori claims "Iiiiiii, speeeeaaak wwwwwhaaaaaale" I think I'm getting closer to understanding the signals of Swedes when communicating.

I have been saying for a while that Swedes speak dog and whale.

What I mean is that for us Anglo-speakers, and certainly other non-native Swedish speakers, there are messages/signals communicated between Swedes that we miss. Many of us get irritated, angry or even upset when we believe the "polite signals" --please, excuse me, thank you--aren't used by Swedes when communicating.

I am now completely convinced they are used, but we cannot "hear" them because they are on a "frequency" we cannot hear --like what dogs and whales can hear.

This came up at dinner last night with Swedish friends. One got it immediately and called it the appropriate "signals" while another kept trying to interpret my "evaluation" trying to figure out who I was calling more or less direct.

Alas, that's the run in I still get faced with all these years later. As neutral and nonjudgmental as I tireless try to be, Swedes, even my oldest friends, interpret my analysis as a likely criticism or at best--judgment.

I only mean we don't understand all the Swedish signals and as a result we misinterpret.

baby landed

2007-06-28T23:25:00.001+02:00

I didn't really think of writing the "birthing story" but I'll summarize for any of the ones (and I think it's safe to assume it's single digit at this point) curious.

K's due date was 15 June, as was her big brother's three years ago. As X came a week early I fully expected K to come early too. And she did, though 3 days later than her big brother.

True to me, I was on my bike the day I started contractions. Sev was in town in a surprise visit and I was thrilled to lunch with her Petronella. It struck during lunch that the light cramps I was having were possibly contractions. D'oh.

By dinner time I was sure that the series of events were under way though I was sure I had at least 24 hours to go. Second pregnancies are faster. X took 50 hours, K took 15.

We brought X to Farmor's around 9pm and while the contractions were getting more intense and frequent I thought we had a long night ahead before leaving for BB. We decided to go in by 2am.

The first midwife was sure that K would arrive before her shift ended at 7am. Almost like they get a bonus for each delivery. I think there's status in assisting in a birth.

Instead, Ann Olsson took over. She was cool, friendly and supportive. She followed my plan and did what any strong woman would do...took over. When NO2 was no longer doing it for me, Ann took the executive decision to give me a spinal. I love her for it.

All pain from contractions completely stopped and peace and tranquility returned. Unlike her big brother's ordeal entering the world assisted by a team and a crash cart, K descended in a perfect free fly head down with only me, her father and Ann as her audience. It was emotionally beautiful.

Two weeks on, life seems unimaginable without her in it. Well, except when we forget about her. But that's another story.

fire and smoke in da hood

2007-06-28T23:19:00.000+02:00

I had no idea that a major fire had broken out just a hundred meters from me. I heard the helicopters outside the window and kept wondering which state visit was going on and why they were in the Hornstull area.

Our babysitter called to check in on us to make sure we were OK, that's how I was tipped off to it.

The commotion affected a ton of people. Some of the dagis kids weren't allowed to go home even though they lived several doors away.

sweden v. denmark

2007-06-03T00:17:00.001+02:00

Wow. I am not a big soccer football fan and I hate suspense. Tonight's European Championships qualifier between Denmark and Sweden wouldn't have been my activity of choice, but it's what we ended up watching at my SIL's.

The game started off to my liking. 3 quick goals to Sweden gave me the sense of ease that makes it easy to watch. There's a buffer so things look good for a Swedish victory within the first 30 minutes of the match.

Denmark managed to pull itself back and equalized 3-3 with just about 15 minutes before the end of the match. That made me uncomfortable. My comfort zone was gone and a tie, a loss or a dramatic win was all in the cards.

But I watched on. And I'm glad I did. Not because of the remarkable victory Sweden managed to pull off...because they never had the chance.

With just a few minutes of play left, a Danish player punched a Swedish player in the penalty zone. It should have meant a penalty kick which is nearly as good as a goal, though not always...nail biter. Me no like.

As the chaos of the call was easing, a Danish fan managed to storm the field and attacked the referee. 3 Danish players quickly interceded and pushed off the fan. Bravo to the Danish players.

However, the referees ended the game then and there due to security failings. Sweden was not going to have its shot at scoring the victory penalty and winning 4-0.

The word readily repeated by commentators was "scandal." And scandal it shall remain for European soccer football in general.

After a few minutes the final decision about the match was decided. Sweden was granted the victory 3-0. All of Denmark's goals were taken back.

Personally, while I think the ruling was a bit harsh on Denmark --taking back one goal seemed reasonable, it sends a very strong message to the fans of national teams everywhere. The message is clear; don't interfere and don't be violent. If you are, you will be the reason your team loses.

So far I've only tried to waddle through a Danish newspaper's account. If I understood correctly, the paper mentions the fan's attack on the referee, but considers the ruling a scandal nonetheless.

feeling enormous

2007-05-28T23:39:00.001+02:00

Well, it has nothing much to do with Stockholm except my own experience, but finishing up my 37th week of pregnancy I'm feeling like a manatee out of water with a speed boat injury.

Actually, some mornings I feel ballerinaeque. By afternoon and evening I am nearly a fixed obstacle.

Sleeping is challenging between not being able to breath and my limbs going numb.

Actually, as a Stockholm experience I can report that I managed to fall off my bike. It was nearly in slow motion and my bike was nearly stationary. I had prepared myself for the rush of worried on-lookers panicked by the fall of the pregnant lady.

Never happened. Two non-Swedes walked nonchalantly by. One Swedish man did eye me with concern though it didn't keep him from his beginning motions of getting on the bus that had just arrived.

I guess I was relieved. Or should I have been indignant that no one seemed to care?

worlds colliding

2007-05-23T00:01:00.000+02:00

There's an episode of Seinfeld where George's worlds collide. We all have them; the professional world, the family nebula, a variety of social spheres and perhaps some secret dwarf planets.

Beyond the reaches of the mysteries of the secret worlds, our collection of friends, family and acquaintances usually know of each of the existences, or don't really care. Most often they have no true desire to interact.

Being an English speaker in Stockholm is a bit like living in a microcosm. And if they say that we are all just seven degrees separated from everyone one else on this planet, I would say the degrees of separation in Stockholm is maximum three.

Tonight's Ampersand event, "What editors want", reminded me of how closely linked so many of us expatriot professionals working with English really are.

I would explain all the connections from the 30 odd people at the event, but I have realized that it would read more like the boring bits of the bible where a long list of who begat whom is listed. Most of the people I knew from one angle I also knew from a second angle. Also many of the people I knew had some sort of connection to a few other people I knew from something relatively unrelated.

I think I need a fourth dimension to accurately depict the inter-locking weave of who was who and how whom knew whom.

Many of my worlds collided this evening. Unlike George, I found it fabulous.

inspiration...or lack thereof

2007-05-22T23:53:00.000+02:00

Francis Strand from How to learn Swedish in 1000 Difficult Lessons chastised me this evening for neglecting my blog.

He's absolutely right. I've been bad. Wow, January 7 was my last entry. Slackard is definitely appropriate.

The positive thing is that I've been formally spanked and it's just what I needed.

Thanks Francis.

bitter sweet snow

2007-01-31T14:04:00.000+01:00

The snow has been a hit for our toddler. He is in love with snow.

The first sledding adventures--this season and thus has a memory of-- were masked in muted trepidation. For the record, the Bean does everything with trepidation.

But the follow up revealed that he had loved the thrill of zinging down the perilous hill beside our place.

The hill was truly an accident minefield as the parents had committed some acts of civil disobedience and ripped out as much of the fence themselves --notice I'm not including us in this questionable vandalism--we go out there too late. The new jungle gym and the trees and fixed poles stood stalwart, uncushioned.

Hold your breath. We have no true sledding helmet, so the Bean took a trip on the wild side.

He did some easy runs on his own. In general he was great at steering around obstacles. I tried to position myself in front of the danger areas. That idea backfired. Instead of steering away, he steered for me. Plan B.

His father then took it upon his good self to volunteer to ride with our snow Bean. That felt safer.

Several days later the hill is still a big pull when we pass it on our way back from dagis. However, we never get there within a reasonable time...Because.....

To walk 100m can take as long as 10 minutes. Every snow ball, each snow bank, all covered surfaces must be trampled, picked up, thrown or plowed through. It's painful for a mother wearing the wrong socks.

Walking home from dagis with buddy Elin should take about 20 minutes. Twice it's taken us nearly an hour. They just love the snow.

I'm enjoying the mini-melt we're experiencing now.

And still back and forth on how happy I am to have snow.

second snow

2007-01-20T20:10:00.000+01:00

It's mid January and the second snow fall of the season is under way. There's been a good amount of accumulation so far too. Looking out our kitchen window I'd say there's about 4-5 cm on the ground and it's still coming down, though slower.

We'll see if there's enough left tomorrow to get in some symbolic sledding.

Hard to believe I'm thrilled to see a white cover. Feels invigorating.

Hard to accept it's anything but the worst

2007-01-16T23:16:00.000+01:00

For over a month or so I've been in semi-denial that the Down's Syndrome rock-out dude from across the street might have died --or been permanently institutionalized at best.

His bedroom window is nearly directly across the street from our windows. I used to watch him daily rock out to tunes likely blaring from his trusty headphones.

A few weeks ago his room seemed to be cleared out and now the blinds have been down and shut since. I never see a light.

There are still the same people living in the apartment. The living room hasn't changed much, though there seems to be some kind of change. The lighting is different. I keep hanging on to the thought that for some reason he had to move.

I don't really believe this. I just want to.

Rock on dude.

myth busting the vasa

2007-01-16T21:18:00.000+01:00

There's one topic that makes me geeky. I am a huge fan of the Vasa warship.

It's a great story. It's a phenomenal artifact. It's home is a fabulous architectural structure that enhances the wonder and awe of the mighty ship.

My ongoing affair with the ship continued today. Fred Hocker, archaeologist and composer of the ambitious endeavor of cataloging and compiling the factual documentation of the ship, met with me to discuss the newly debunked myths of the Vasa saga.

Firstly, the Vasa sank because of operational error, i.e. the captain's fault. The captain was aware of the instability of the ship, sailed with the lower gun ports open with near full sail. A well understood no-no of the era. There's oodles of documentation to back this up.

Secondly, the Vasa was not a forgotten and lost wreck. As late as 1839 the wreck was marked on sea charts of the Stockholm harbor. A salvage was requested in the 1920s but denied because of its location in the shipping channel. Divers and others involved in the 20's project were around when Anders Franzén got interested in finding her again in the 50s. Unfortunately they originally pointed out the wrong spot.

Thirdly, Franzén didn't find the Vasa on his own, randomly fishing with his core sampler in a dingy. He was accompanied and assisted by Per Edvin Fälting, who is given credit as the master diver on the salvage. It was Fälting who informed Franzén that he was looking on the wrong side of the harbor and helped devise an improved drag to locate the ship. However, Franzén's core sampler did indeed find the ship and confirmed there was oak beneath the surface.

Finally, the ship was designed to be the size it turned out to be. It was not lengthened nor was an unplanned second gun deck ordered after initial construction. Had the ship been properly ballasted and the captain had had a chance to get to know how to rig it and ship ballast, it would likely have been a sea worthy ship.

I didn't get invited on board again. But I am now in possession of Volume I. That's what reminds me that I'm a Vasa geek.

on the road

2006-12-29T15:35:00.000+01:00

Well, a week ago I actually aced my written driving test. Caught me by surprise. I went to the test fully prepared to fail since I was still failing my practice tests. But I figured it was too late to cancel, I could afford the lost 180kr and it would be good practice (plus a painful reminder to kick my butt to take studying more seriously)

In the end I got 62 of 65 right. I should have got 63 but I went against my "knowledge" assuming the law had changed yet again and I wasn't aware. That particular question was about a blinking child sign on a taxi/school bus. The blinking element through me off. I knew that in Sweden the law said you didn't have to stop for school buses, but with the blinking I thought maybe they had amended. Plus the "right" option sounded infantile "Go by really slowly." I would have expected wording like, "Go by at a safe speed prepared to stop."

Oh well. Point to me.

I've signed up for my driving test. It's scheduled for 2 February. There is a last-minute option that I might exercise if I get a practice driving session in early enough.

I called today to get a skid pan course. As luck would have it, they had just had a cancellation and the first available time is/was 2 January at 7.45. Ugh. But one hinder out of the way.

Ironic that last night coming home I was nearly pulled over in a random police check. We were coming over Västerbron beyond any point of return when I saw that the police were flagging cars over. Heart in throat. What could I do. I was comforting myself by trying to convince myself that I was "nearly" legal. After all, I do have a permit and my prescribed "co-driver" was present in the car.

The glitches in the legality clause were:

the co-driver was in the back seat
he was intoxicated
no "övningskör" sign

Now wouldn't that have been peachy. So close and they "banned" for a year or so because of driving illegally.

Can't wait until this is all above board.

swede in space, lauriates in place

2006-12-10T19:19:00.000+01:00

Anders Fugelsang made it into orbit. He's officially the first Swede in space. Apparently he's be a part of a number of countdowns, but this time it led to blast off.

Headlines of Aftonbladet and Expressen proclaimed the liftoff. Other than that Stockholm seems relatively unthrilled by the galactic event. The hubby kind of audibly smirked when I told him. Whether it's the understated Swede in him, or that it's not that big a deal I don't know. I'm happy for both Fugelsang and space cowboys around Sweden. They're officially out of this world.

The Nobel Banquet will be in full swing within a hour or so. The City Hall has been in preparation phase for a few days now. Each time I've biked by on the Södermälarstrand side I've taken a little look. What I'm more curious about is the mysterious "pipeline" that seems to be headed directly into the Blue Hall.

It's not very secretive, so I can't imagine it's subterfuge.

Tonight I won't be biking by to see the gas flames and mini Hollywood set since it's Sunday. Next year I won't be headed this way home from work, so I suppose my observations across Riddarfjärden of Nobel Banquet have come to an end.

moved parking pole

2006-11-27T20:43:00.000+01:00

They moved the pole while we were gone. It might seem a small matter, but the position of that pole was significant for two reasons.

First. It's the spot where I rest and lock my bike.

Second. There's now a lesser chance for the parking attendants to score.

I'll explain.

Well, the first reason is rather straight forward. The original pole was just a few steps from our front door. It's the closest pole that you can lock your bike to. It made for a natural bike holding spot, even when we don't use the wire lock.

The second reason is why I'm a bit surprised. Since the bus swings into the street and there used to be an island, the ban on parking/stopping started 15m from the intersection. The island has been gone for years. However, the empty space is too enticing to frustrated searchers of the ever elusive parking spot and easily misguided by the friendly appearance of the space.

It was the biggest parking ticket generator in the neighborhood. The meter maids knew that on each round there was nearly a guarantee to have a sucker or several parked in the spot --the first illegal makes the others falsely cocky. 750kr bamm!

I wonder how much the revenue of parking tickets has been affected by this uncharacteristically reasonable update of the parking zone.

The discovery was first witnessed but not noted this morning. We returned from a week's trip to Boston yesterday. Coming back from dagis I was surprised when I seemingly went too far past it. I chalked it up to jet lag. Returned to the "new" pole and left my bike.

Later as I shook some rugs I realized that the pole was farther and new. I'm still a bit in shock.

first snow

2006-11-02T11:00:00.000+01:00

Winter arrived yesterday in full force. It started off light and fluffy in the morning, but by 5pm it felt like blizzard conditions.

The Bean and I were on our way home from daycare. When I biked there at 4.30 all was calm. However, after the fight to get him ready to go home we walked out into a heavy snowfall.

We walked for a bit while out of the wind getting covered in minutes in a white covering. When we rounded the corner and got hit with the wind I managed to convince the Bean that he should ride. I walked the bike up the incline. There were 4 cars all spinning wheels and stuck on the hill.

Even Kittycat was covered in white.

familiar strangers

2006-10-14T15:44:00.000+02:00

We all recognize them. They are the people that we see regularly but have never met. They could be the guy that waits on the platform with you every morning, or the little old lady who shuffles across the street outside your window. For most of us, these people belong to our private sphere. However, there are always the familiar strangers recognized by a neighborhood, or even a city at large.

Stockholm has its own recognizable characters. We finally saw the "naked" man recently, although I think it's still too warm for him to have made his debut appearance. He's the squat guy with a full beard and wild brown hair that walks around Stockholm downtown in just a pair of shorts. He's most active when it's -10. He roams Kungsträdgården, Drottninggatan and likely Stureplan, though I've never seen him there. I find it rather funny that we never see him in the middle of the summer. Perhaps that's when he's dressed in winter clothes, or perhaps he migrates.

The same day we saw naked man, I saw the "challenged" guy who sells Bingo Lotto tickets. He has crossed eyes. He has a few regular spots. This time he was on Drottning gatan just between the two entrances of PUB. Other times you find him in the underground passageway between Central Station and the subway station.

As I was contemplating two sightings of familiar strangers up walks Camaroon man. He's the black guy that patrols the subways selling postcards and music from Camaroon. He says that the proceeds will be sent to schools in Camaroon. I somehow have a suspicion that this is his job and the proceeds support Camaroon man. He was on his way into PUB. I wonder if he was shopping for Camaroonian (sp?) orphans or his own needs.

I haven't seen the other Bingo Lotto guy in a while. He's the one in a wheelchair. He is usually in the passageway under Central Station. Perhaps the two regulars have worked out an agreement to not encroach on each other's turf.

Johan once found a nearly empty wallet. The money was gone but there was an ID in it. It was the guy in the wheelchair's. Since we recognized him, instead of dropping it off at the police station, Johan delivered it to him personally. Funnily enough, you'd think I would have remembered his name. I guess I wanted him to remain a familiar stranger. Knowing his name would remove the stranger status.

autumn morning dip

2006-10-06T09:40:00.000+02:00

I watched the man dive from the kayaker's dock on Reimers this morning on the dagis run. Johan wore gloves this morning: that means the mercury was below 10 celcius. Brrrr.

In an unSwedish manner I asked how it was and the temperature suggesting 15. The guess was about 13. Brrrr.

He must of lingered a bit since he was in his bathrobe as I bicycled back home. He couldn't suggest a minimum temperature where his limits kept him from swimming, but a date. November 16. There wasn't time to ask the date's significance, but Swedes are like that, a date will set a limit rather than an iceberg. He did offer that the spring was chillier.

Apparently there's a start date too. I wonder what that date is and if he's ever had to bring a chainsaw to break up the ice.

world's fastest 90 year old

2006-09-29T10:00:00.000+02:00

I overheard a funny sound bit this morning on the dagis drop off run. The exact bit I heard was, "Såg du den killen som just sprang förbi? Han är världens snabbast 90-åring." (Did you see that guy that just ran by? He's the world's fastest 90 year old.)

El senior speedy was nowhere to be seen so evidently he must be rather spry.

At first it just amused me thinking that there can't be much competition and how fast do you really need to run to beat him. But it struck me that while there may not be a big pool to compete with; at 90 he and other 90-year olds are competing.

There's an AMF TV commercial currently running. The "star" is an active member of our skydiving club. I don't know how old he is, but he's late 70s at youngest. It warms me to know that age isn't the same barrier it is perceived as.

I'm hardly the world's fastest 38-year old. But maybe when the competition thins around 90 I'll run a race.

swedish advertising

2006-07-11T14:24:00.000+02:00

trygg hansa advert: gravid?
Originally uploaded by fondacey.

All too often some advertising poster catches my eye and makes me smile and reflect. I always wish I have a camera to capture it. Sometimes I tell myself to bring one along to capture the picture. But it never happens.

On our way to lunch the Bean and I stopped for a bus change. As luck would have it, this poster was at the stop AND I had my camera.

I find it so refreshing that humor in the form of sexual innuendo isn't taboo here.

In case you don't read Swedish. The company, Trygg Hansa, is an insurance company. The caption says: "Pregnant?"

grönan advert: sur tjej
Originally uploaded by fondacey.

This was the poster on the flip side. It also cracked me up.

Gröna Lund is the amusement park in Stockholm. The girl is riding the old trolly car which transports visitors back from Djurgården back to the city center.

skansen's blue mondays

2006-07-10T23:52:00.000+02:00

The Bean and I went to Skansen this evening. The hubby is still up at the DZ in Gryttjom, so my date was my 2-year old.

The day had started out with pouring rain and gray skies until lunchtime, and then it resumed the pattern of phenomenal. Since the Bean slept over 3 hours, waking at 6.30 pm...or rather I woke him 6.30, I decided we needed an outdoor activity.

We biked to Skansen.

Monday evenings in the summer are jazz evenings. But not just at Soliden. There was a big band playing under a roof in the kiddie carnival part. Bean and I stopped to listen and watch. He got motivated to go into "house"...so we did a half lap around the dance floor.

Personally, I enjoyed the moment most for being the mommy dancing with her sun to "The Lady is a Tramp" but before I got to that maudlin momment I had a warm fuzzy reflection.

Watching the many 50 or 60+ couples gliding about arm in arm lindy hopping, bugging or whatever insect dance they do, they were enjoying themselves...in a most content way.

It was a wonderful realization that after another 30-40 years that could very well be the hubby and me. It filled me with contentment to know that I am gliding through life with my life time partner, and my futre is golden.

Now I know that not all of these couples are golden anniversary celebrators, but I found a peace realizing that these people had gone past the years of their lives that they sweated the superficial stuff that plagues the young.

I used to see people this age and fear growing older because they represented life in the most boring and uneventful way. Being youthful is about expending energy, trying new things and making sure our peers know we're having such a great time.

Leaving behind "youth" is a tough jump. Seeing the beauty in these people dancing to a big band on a warm sunny night has eased that transition. I'm passed the point in my life that those "old people" are boring.

Au contraire...they've finally got it right. I look forward to getting there too some day.

drop zone: basketball court

2006-06-08T15:08:00.000+02:00

On Saturday I landed on the basketball court beside the clubhouse at Gryttjom. It was my second jump of the year, my 17th landing over all.

I seem to be a bad judge of forward flight. I kept estimating my landing spot just ahead of me...until it was nearly in the woods.

I landed a bit roughly, scraped up my right ring fingers on the little knuckle, bruised my left knee and took a shot at my pride. Other than that I made it intact.

The funniest part was the look on the faces of the workers on the sewage system just 10 meters from me. They didn't look particularly surprised, but a bit annoyed that I landed so close to where they were working. They barely raised an eyebrow beyond that. I don't think they understood the implications of such a bad landing.

Jenny R. had a little "talk" with me on Sunday. She was responsible for Rookie weekend. She mapped out my goal for my jumps that day were to land better...touché.

I still owe a case for that landing.

blending in the immigrant crowd

2006-05-25T14:48:00.000+02:00

Last Friday I ventured off to Rinkeby with my son. We were attending a child festival organized by one of my students. There would be drums, dancers, stilt-walkers, masks and festivities including food. We were rearing to go.

As we existed the subway car at Rinkeby I couldn't help but notice that there were very few "Swedes" on the platform. Ironcially, as I have black hair I seemed to blend better here than anywhere else in Stockholm.

Admittedly, I felt a bit awkward being "one of the Rinkeby types"...

Rinkeby pleasantly surprised me, as well as my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. It was pleasant, lively and enjoyable. In fact, I felt a bit envious of a center with so much life and commotion. Granted there was a festival about to happen, but the square was teaming with life and vitality. I really liked that. I miss that in the average "Swedish dominated" centers of Sweden. Swedes always seem to be on their way somewhere...immigrants sit on the stoop..so to say.

We will return to Rinkeby to investigate their shops another trip. I highly recommend the outing.

boating has begun

2006-05-10T23:13:00.000+02:00

You really get the feeling that the summer season has kicked off. There are boats bobbing all around Stockholm these days. A couple of weeks ago there was the random one or two. You knew they had just put the boat in and wanted to take a spin.

Now there are boats that are clearly out for a little cruise.

Karl Johan at Slussen is as busy as it could be mid summer.

Ruby goes in the water on Saturday. Then our boat club is done. We are known to be late and are even called "Midsommar båtklubb" by some.

hick capital city

2006-05-09T21:29:00.000+02:00

I love the oddities and the quirkiness of some of the inhabitants of this city. Yesterday while biking into town I passed two "characters" that really made me smile.

Gubbe nr.1 was biking slowly westerly on Södermälarestrand. He was on an old clunker and in no particular hurry. He was traveling in an opposite direction to me, but something made me take note. He was carrying in his left hand, a push lawn mower. You know the old kind, no motor, no glitz. It was complete shaft to blades. I had to giggle as we all passed him on our way to work in the glorious sun of the premature summer.

Gubbe nr. 2 was coasting along somewhere in Gamla Stan. He was on a "sparkcykel" which is a sort of sled. But this guy had "modernized" and kept with the season. His was equipped with wheels. The blades were like those of the x-country skiiers. His trusty dog trotted alongside.

summer boots winter

2006-05-05T13:40:00.000+02:00

The spring is a fleeting season. The melt off of snow and ice indicates a spring thaw, but since the weather remains unpredictable and too chilly to thoroughly enjoy the outdoors, the spring is often just a passage to summer.

Summer arrived yesterday. It's in full bloom today. My thermostat reads 23 degrees. OK, the sun is shining on it, but it's warm.

I wonder what the heck I'm doing inside?

field of blue

2006-04-28T20:52:00.000+02:00

My favorite grassy hill will be in full blue bloom within the week. I just past it today in the mist and gloom of a miserable day. But seeing the blue flowers, and I have no clue what they are called in English, nearly at their peak made me shine.

Every year I've seen these tiny plants spread just a bit more thickly on this slope. They nearly cover all the available grass area today. I can't wait for a sunny day, the right timing and having my camera.

I'll post the picture if I capture it.

Seeing this annual return of beauty warms me up inside.

sounds of ice

2006-04-12T12:00:00.000+02:00

Ice formed on the water in Ãrstaviken last night. When I was dropping off my bean at dagis today I heard the tinging of the broken cover as the waves bobbed the surface.

As a large shipped passed the ice sounded like birds chirping. All around it sounded like spring. Ironic that it's the ice that contributed most to the ambiance.

Thepeacefull harmony of water surrounding my daily life will be sorely missed.

feeling maudlin

2006-04-11T19:50:00.001+02:00

Ever since our impulse purchase of a piece of property to build a house, I've been a bit depressed over my impending departure from living inomtullarna --within the city the limits of Stockholm.

The spring is definitely upon us. The sand is being swept away from bike paths and sidewalks, the snow has gone, even the puddles are clearing up. Today was a glorious day. It wasn't warm, but the sun shining gave the feeling it was time to pull out shorts and teeshirts.

Boating season is under way too. Our boat club has posted nattvakt--night watch lists and sjösättning dates -- time to put the boats back in the water.

To add to my reflection of our move, I contemplate, "What will come of our Ruby?" and I realize in my sadness that we'll most likely have to sell her.

we're landowners

2006-04-10T18:45:00.000+02:00

Holy crap. Talk about impulse shopping. We bought a property and now we have to build a house.

khartoum

2006-03-19T08:44:00.000+01:00

Life in Khartoum for expats seems to be a far cry from a hardship post. Well, if you are hooked up with the right social coordinator in any case.

I think I will need to devote hours to posting about my visit here to Sudan. For the sake of brevity and not having the hours to invest I will highlight.

Arrived back Thursday on the Sudan Airways flight. Jamal sat next to me. He is a CEO for a banking services-related company. He expects ATMs and credit cards to be up and going within six months. Holly is sceptical on the credit cards as there is still an embargo from the US and Visa and MC are American.

Holly and Kirsty (real spelling is Scottish and I don't know it) picked me up. Excellent timing since I had only carry on...walking out I found them walking in.

We swung by Jesus and Maria Inez's place to see their new shisha pipe. Beers were immediately thrust into my hands and snacks were offered. I had only had food on the airplane all day, so I was happy to have something to eat.

Back at the homestead we got ready to go out for the big night. Holly put the kids to bed and we went back to the pilots' house where Jesus and Maria Inez were hosting a little fiesta.

Most of the pilots are young South Africans. We scoffed down some Venezualian tacos. Patrick showed up rather tipsy from his diplomatic function at the Swiss residence. Got a little uppity with Holly so just the two of us carried on to the Pickwick Pub at the British Embassy.

We were on Rupert's list. I was number three, Holly, of course, was number ONE! Inside the pub is the pool house, so I felt like I was on middle-aged spring break sipping my Strongbow sitting on the wooden storage crates. I chatted with Malou, the Filippina married to an Iraqui, living in Khartoum whose sis-in-law is Amra, now in Stockholm.

I also chatted with a bunch of people including the Norwegian husband of Elisabeth, the Norwegian Consul. Discussed the culture of haggling and the effects of expats on the local economies.

The gang carried on to the GOAL party. GOAL is an Irish humanitarian aid agency which is rather well-respected as their workers don't have the overly fat salaries the rest of the NGOs enjoy. Note to self, look up donating to them.

The gang was made up of: Me, Holly, Paul (who was supposed to go home) Terry, the diver/PE teacher at KICKs, Louise the hillarous, tall Englishwoman and her hubby, Melanie, the newly arrived American and Dave.

Being on a list is critical for entry to parties in Khartoum these days. We weren't. But someone Holly did her magic and the gang of us were admitted into the Khartoum resemblance of the college/frat party of UMass. Wall-to-wall people carrying drinks and grooving. The only real upgrade was that there was some food left over --that wasn't just chips.

Several of the Pickwick people were at GOAL...and despite my brief existence in Khartoum, I was recognizing people.

Apparently this was a unique experience from an Americans-in-Khartoum thing. There were about 10 of us. According to Holly, she is nearly always the only American.

Conditions were similar to what one would expect from a college party. Drunkeness, flirtations, hilarity over the most benign events and observations of couch groping as Louise, Terry and Omar gave play-by-play. All in all...a load of fun. Jesus even brought his unbattered pinata from his party. He bashed it a few times, the candy poured out...

And we have incriminating evidence on my camera.

4pm and we finally stumbled home. The day after...expedition to the Nile.

Patrick put together all the camping gear and provisions for our night under the stars.

We drove a bit over an hour south. It wasn't the wild desert, but we had dunes at the bank of the White Nile. The Frech contingency were already set up like a family bar-b-que and we settled in allowing them to cater to us. Both Holly and I were a bit slow after our long, drunken evening.

The French crowd was, Laurence and Patrice whom I had met the Friday before. Sondrine and Frederic, Sophie and Franc and their collective hoard of children...all of whom were lovely.

I borrowed a kayak and paddled up and down the broad river, which is likly about 10km across at this point. It is just upriver of a damn.

Locals wandered past every once in a while and little gatherings of spectators observed from time to time. My first encounter with a camel got me all exited. I herded it back past the camp. The rest were unimpressed. As the trains of camels and the packs of them continued to pass by I realized that camels grazing past were as common as squirrels on the Boston Common.

Our sleeping arrangements were set up to be sheltered from the wind which was kicking up. My tent lacked the rods or any type of shelter, so besides the false sense of enclosure, I was sleeping on an airmattress in a mosquito net. But any crawlies could very well have cuddled up with me.

And crawlies were indeed found under the tents of the others'. Two scorpions and a dozen of large scarabs. Maybe they attracted them all or I got up early enough to not be attractive to the critters in their search to escape the blistering sun and heat.

Drinking is standard amusement. Everyone acknowledges the over-consumption by people posted abroad. It is the forbidden fruit that the diplomats have a direct line to. So beers were flowing the day after even though I had passed on the Cuba libres the night before.

We had a nice talk with a young camel herder. He let us take pictures and talked his few words of English.

Falucas were dragged up the river to set sail (blue tarp) to catch the wind to cross the Nile to cast their nets.

The road home was more "digestable" since I had seen it once, and now we were returning from the outer reaches to the center. Will post more on that later.

off to the port

2006-03-12T10:04:00.000+01:00

Patrick, the man, set everything up for me. I am leaving on today's 3pm flight to Port Sudan. Henri, the Belgian, will pick me up, or have Ali pick me up. Henri seems to run the sudandiversonline.com dive company set up through the Hilton.

Looks like it will just be the two of us diving. Henri says we'll do some exploratory diving. Wow, the thought of diving where no one has dived before. I feel like I am on the Star Trek or better yet, the Calypso.

Custeau's underwater marine experiment is still in place. It will be a dive I must insist on. It's touted as the Holy Grail of diving for divers. I can't miss out.

Things are much easier than I anticipated here in Sudan. Most things are readily available, malaria in the north seems to be rare and no one is staring at me as a weirdo being an unaccompanied woman in western clothes.

Women drive. I've seen several today.

khartoum arrival

2006-03-11T20:14:00.000+01:00

Within hours of arrival i was at a french embassy party with patrick. Everyone thought I was Holly since I was with Patrick and I have long dark hair. It's not the first time that people have mistaken us as looking similar.

Khartoum is much more developed than I would have imagined. Patrick says the new roads were not here two years ago. You understand why they have a Nissan Patrol SUV here. Some roads are just dirt paths.

Terry, a friend of Holly's, came by to sort me out for diving. Now some of the paper work is done and if all goes well I will be on a flight tomorrow afternoon to Port Sudan.

Paperwork is a necessary evil. Patrick has started the process with my registration and sent stuff to the port to get the permit i need there for going off the shore.

The beef here is amazingly good. So tender and tastey. I don't want to eat anything else.

like a fish in a tank

2006-03-08T08:50:00.000+01:00

I donned scuba gear last night for the first time in three years. I went to Högdals Sport & Idrottshall to test my regulator with its new battery as of yesterday.

In some ways it was a familiar task that just needed a refresher. In other ways I felt like a fish out of water.

There were two big groups doing their second pool dive for their Padi course. I watched them do their drills of emptying their masks, weightbelts and even the whole BCD. I practiced removing my mask...and boy did it feel odd to be maskless underwater. Johan has the right idea to do that once in a while in controlled conditions. It can be unnerving. Throwing off your second stage too reminds you of where you are and not to let panic set in.

And now my right ear is still funny. I hope it clears up by Friday's flight.

winter still has a firm grip

2006-03-07T13:20:00.000+01:00

This morning the thermometer read -11.5 C. It's March 7th. Last week we had snow nearly every day and Sunday we were nearly snowed in up in Gryttjom.

While I long for the spring, I find that I'm pleased by the extended winter. The sky today is clear blue and the air is crisp...and Stockholm sparkles in its fluffy white powder cover.

Often this time of year all you get is slush and dirtied snow that's been lying around for weeks.

The best part is that the days are so much longer. We're coming up on the equinox, so we have daylight past 5pm now. In two-weeks time we'll be on the "winning side of the half year."

Welcome brightness.

skydiving film festival

2006-02-19T15:38:00.000+01:00

We started at my place for the preparty. Kitten was the only one who replied to my open invitation on the down list. She brought along Gunilla and eld-Janne. Fadder Joey and Ingela also came.

The film festival was if full swing when we arrived. I realized that I now recognize the majority of the regular members, and some are stating to recognize me. Though it didn't encourage anyone but kitten to accept my ivite. grr.

Chippe was checking people in. He asked about Johan directly. Funny how some people can remember names and connections and some of the members don't even associate Johan and I as a couple.

The atmosphere reminded me of a jr. highschool dance with showing home movies. I must admit that I was inspired by most of the films. It's not a secret that I am still scared out of my mind by the prospect of jumping out an airplane again as the season starts, but after seeing the beauty of mid-air acrobatics, I was enthused and excited to start jumping again.

The winners had spoofed "We are the World" and it went down real well with the inhebriated crowd who embraced shoulders and sung in unison.

The funniest element of the evening was the journey home. I had no idea where exactly I was in Hammarby. When I got to the road hoping to luck out on a taxi driving by I found a lost coach bus driver in need of directings to Zinkensdamm. I traded a ride there for guidance.

week of coincidences

2006-02-17T09:43:00.000+01:00

It turned out to be two skaters who succumbed to hypothermia and died in the skating accident. But it was the first fatality that started the coincidences. His name was David Sjögren and it turned out that he was an active member in our skydiving club. I didn't know him.

Last weekend we went up to Gryttjom to help out with some building jobs at the clubhouse. Since we're both still very new, it's also an opportunity to get to know folks. We successfully got to know the gang of 12 or so a little better.

On Monday I discovered that Mlowry, a poster on the Local and someone in IRC, knows a skydiver. From a posted picture of a skating outing on Mlowry's blog I identified Patric, one of the guys on the building team.

On Tuesday I lunched with Paul, the now retired HR manager of BSH. In discussion of skydiving and the unfortunate skater, Paul informed me that his former boss at BSH was best friends and pall bearer at David's funeral. On a happier note, when discussing Paul's childhood home, Reimersholmen --our neck of the woods we found another connection. The conversation went like this:

P: Our apartment looked out on the canal
Me: That's where our boat club is
P: I still know one guy who I grew up who still lives on Reimers. He's a member in that club. His name is Lars-Gunnar-
Me: Axelsson. I just wrote him an email 2 hours ago for boat club related information.

On Wednesday I got in contact with Stefan, my former skydiving instructor and member of the Swedish delegation who participated in the successful 400-way world record in Thailand a couple of weeks ago. I will profile him in an upcoming article. Upon looking at his work email address, I discover that he works at Anoto, the company I have just started writing business cases for.

On Thursday I had déjà vu. As I entered the revolving door to a building I was stuck by the familiarity of the backpack of the guy in front of me. I realized that exactly one week before, same time, same door, same backpack, same guy, entered exactly ahead of me and preceded me on the way up the esclator.

Today is Friday...I am still waiting for today's coincidence.

skater dies going through the ice

2006-01-29T08:59:00.000+01:00

A skater died yesterday while skating. Another is in criitcal condition. Over 15 went through the ice on Mälaren.

We enjoy skating on the frozen lakes around Stockholm. I am always a little fearful of going through the ice. I usuallly say it's not because I am afraid of dying but falling into cold water since I HATE being cold. This is the first fatality I've heard of since I took up the sport.

Usually the annual stories of skaters involve large ice islands stranding large groups of skaters. This puts a damper on the season, especially since we haven't donned our skates yet this year. And we're in the midst of considering new skates.

They recommend you have a list of safety equipment. We have the basics, but lack the water-tight backpacks.

I think I know what I'm going to add to our purchase when we pick up the new skate.

like a fiddler on a stockholm roof

2006-01-04T23:09:00.000+01:00

Stockholm has its own romantic characters on the rooftops...the guys shoveling snow. I remember the first time I saw men in what seemed like absailing harnesses shoveling snow off the steep roofs facing Birger Jarls gata. It made me smile.

Snow dumped on us starting on Christmas Day and when it finally stopped the city was under a cover of nearly a foot of snow.

After new years the crews came out. Up on the roof were the guys clinging to security ropes. On the ground is a guy in a reflective safety vest breathing into a walkie-talkie. His job is to coordinate the shoveling and the pedestrians passing by.

They always give way to pedestrians.

I can't decide if it's foolish to not find a more practical solution to the threat of snow slides and falling deadly icicles. Or if the romantic vision of a city covered in white with roof-skipping men is worth preserving.

glögg

2005-12-11T23:59:00.000+01:00

Glögg is spiced, sweetened wine served warm with almonds and raisins. Your first every season is delicious. It brings you to the Christmas season via the scent and taste senses. It's cozy, yummy and festive. Christmas is coming.

Your seventh and your seventeenth glögg are not as delighful. The heavily sweetened wine overwhelms the senses and a sip is in order for the sake of holiday protocol. Any glögg over twenty in the season is a chore.

But. The festivity around attending a glögg party is wonderful. The formality is reduced to drinking a few sips of sticky wine, eat some good safran buns (no number is too high) and chat with other guests.

The festivity of glögg parties encourages an easily managed party that is a pleasure to attend.

Just go easy on the glögg.

12th anniversary of my arrival to stockholm

2005-11-30T13:23:00.000+01:00

12 years ago today I arrived in Sweden to what I officially consider my immigration day. Chapters were closed in Budapest and I had just spent over two months back in Boston after a 2+year absence. Here I was. Officially. Permanently. Or as it's said in Sweden...until further notice.

I shared a taxi from Arlanda and the other guy got out at the Grand Hotel. I was originally focused primarily on the encroaching twilight at 3.30pm, but I saw that Kunsträdgården, the large park square in central Stockholm, was fenced off.

The driver informed me that the police barricades were a result of the anticipated neo-nazi demonstrators who would convene at the base of the Karl XXII statue, their adopted mascot.

That made me smirk. How ironic that my "immigration day" to Sweden would coincide with "skinhead day" as I have come to call it.

12 years on the demonstrations in Stockholm have moved to Salem (a suburb) and to another date (December 9). The anti-immigrant sentiment seems more subdued today, but there are hints of a relapse into blaming immigration for growing social ills.

All in all. I am happy as a resident of Stockholm.

Technorati Profile

2005-11-24T15:34:00.000+01:00

Technorati Profile

verification

2005-11-24T15:24:00.000+01:00

name change

2005-11-18T20:14:00.000+01:00

I changed the name of the blog today to Light Reflections on Stockholm
It's a play on what I really mean, light-hearted thoughts about my host city and that there is so much water surrounding this town.

Today is a poster day for what we want November to look like in the future...sunny, dry and crisp.

More more more

early mornings

2005-11-18T16:35:00.000+01:00

Stockholm isn't a particulary early town on the outside. The people who are out and about before 10 am are mostly trying to get somewhere: to work, to their children's daycare to the shop. I hear that Swedes are early risers, but that they devote the wee hours to sipping coffee and poring over their daily newspaper.

I'm not a morning person. But having a toddler thrusts you into a life of twighlighty dawn. I sometimes wonder why the little one awakes when it's still dark and there is still a hush about the city. That's what has always kept me snug in my bed until the city begins to hum.

I once romanticised the notion of being among early risers. It was while I was living in Budapest. I had an early flight and my taxi passed the mini town square by my house by 5.30 am. It was abuzz with commerce and could easily have been confused for mid-morning rather than the daybreak. Shopkeepers were hawking, customers were haggling and the crowd that just hang around were already on duty. As the taxi carried on into the morning commute I realized that I already enjoyed this morning scene. At that time of my youth I often grazed past it; it was just the end of my day rather than the beginning.

I wish Stockholm had a livelier pulse in its morn now that I awake while the hip crowd slink home.

bloging is the 21st century answer to letter writing

2005-11-18T06:20:00.000+01:00

Back before faxes and email I used to write letters. Long letters. Descriptive letters. I lived in Budapest for a couple of years in the early 90s and I think I wrote someone that I spent about 25-50% of my measly income on stamps. I used to sit and write for hours in the evenings since I couldn't watch TV and the telephone wasn't an option. Not only was a call abroad prohibitive financially...but there wasn't one where I lived.

So I wrote novella-like letters to friends and family about my experiences and observations of living in Hungary. And I sent them away. Gone. And then if I wanted to repeat my thought, I wrote it all over again.

Blogging has become the new epistolary art. We write to our audience, either conceived or random, and express our thoughts. And we get to invite as many as we like to watch and participate.

Finally I am back to writing about my experiences and observations of a country and culture that I live in. And everyone gets to take a peek.

Stockholm was particularly beautiful today. The weather was crisp, but the sky was blue and the sun shone through. Usually I think November is a miserable month...This November has been glorious.

first post

2005-11-14T05:25:00.000+01:00

Having read so many negative opinions about Sweden I've decided to start my own upbeat, on-line forum to express my opinions of living in Stockholm. Most certainly there will be days that something gets me down and Sweden bashing will be the quick and easy answer, but as I long ago committed to positive attitude towards my adoptive city and country, I will do my best to analyze the upside to the experience.

I don't know what to expect of my new blog. It might become a site to help new visitors or residents to Stockholm or Sweden. It might become my own regular mental therapy. It might fall by the way-side.

Now isn't this exciting...a future open to us all.