Skiing

The days between Christmas and New Years are known as meddeldagarna, the middle days, in Sweden. There isn't a lot going on other than sales. So, we went skiing. Our part of Sweden isn't mountainous. To ski Swedish mountains, you need to go north of the Arctic Circle, which is about 12 hours by train from Stockholm. I would love to ski up there one day, to be able to say I skiied north of the Arctic Circle, but the ski place we found closer to home suited us just fine.

Isaberg, on paper, is about the size of the resort we like in Ontario: Mount St Louis Moonstone. Good variety of runs, good variety of lifts, only about 1 1/2 hours drive from home. It was a beautiful drive - all the pine trees coated in snow. That's about where the similarities ended.

Difference #1: at home, you have a ski pass that you hang on your coat somewhere so the attendants manning the lifts can see it. Here, we had plastic cards with barcodes that we kept in our pockets. At each lift, there is an electronic turnstile that reads the barcode and lets you through.

Difference #2: at home, there's ski patrol. They're clearly uniformed as are the instructors. Here, we saw a couple of injured people on snowmobiles, but no other sign of ski patrol. Lots however of instructors. No signage either and not every lift was manned. At home, each lift has a map of the site and a listing of the hills that particular run gives access to, including their level of difficulty. Isaberg had one map, at the ticket booth.

Difference #3: at home, there are 3 levels of run - green, blue, and black. Here there are 4 - green, blue, red, and black. In my opinion, Isaberg's red is black, and I think it would be a really neat thing to ski so skillfully and confidently that you could do Isaberg's black run and enjoy it.

Difference #4: at home, most lifts are chairlifts. Here is more the way I remember from when I was a kid - tbars and pommalifts for Joe Average skiier and chairlifts for the advanced hills. We, of course, didn't know this. First clue should have been when taking a chairlift up for the first run of the day, the chairlift floats over a very steep cliff. I'm a chicken skiier at the best of times. Shouldn't be but am. You know that point of no return, when you've reached the crest of the hill you're about to descend, and you look down it, and it's easily a 75 degree drop? Welcome to the first hour of my day. For Peter and the kids, no problem. For me, an endurance test. Which I passed.

Summary: I spent a delightful hour inside after lunch with a book. The sun had come out, and a few sparkly snowflakes were drifting down. Peter and the kids enjoyed their red runs. Elizabeth and I did a last run of the day before my legs gave out, and we drove home inside a snow globe, and by that I mean that the snow was sparkling as it fell. It was -10 but not windy, and nobody got uncomfortably cold. I'm glad we had the chance to ski. I don't think we'll get to the Alps in any country this year, but at least our skiis saw European snow once this season.

Christmastown

Sweden gets a lot of press about how dark it is in the winter. Personally, I like it. True, it starts getting dark about 3pm, but that just means it's time to turn on all the Christmas stars in the windows and light the candles I have all over the flat. The best part is erranding because it's dark by 4:30 but the stores are still open and with the decorations and the snow, it's enchanting: snow everywhere, lights, happy people, Christmas music in the shops. It really feels like Christmas.

Göteborg is known as julstad (Christmastown) and last night Elizabeth and I found out why. We were on our way to the Avenue when we noticed a crowd of people at Götaplatsen, the square at the top of the Avenue, in front of the art museum (Konstmuseet). The mayor was up on the balcony, making a speech about the official opening of Julstad. He set off a confetti cannon and all the lights along the 3km length of the Avenue lit up. Next it was announced that we were all about to see the official premiere of this year's Christmasfilm, which is shown several times each evening on the facade of the Konstmuseet between now and New Year's Eve. The film was a little strange - an odd combination of good vs evil mixed up with references to fairy tales. There was a fairy trying to control the good things and a tomten or troll and a witch switching over to bad things. Good won out in the end of course.

The Julmarknad is another part of the julstad. Essentially, it's a fancy craft fair. Currently, there's one at the bottom of the Avenue in the mall, another one at the square in front of the botanical garden (Trädgårten), and this morning, Andrew, Peter and I wandered through the crowds looking at the stalls in Haga. Last Saturday evening, we were at Liseberg amusement park to experience its julmarknad, lights, and festivities. Some of the rides were operating in spite of the cold and the snow, so Andrew did the Chinese swings just so he could say that he had. Most of the stalls at Liseberg were glögg and food stands, but they had changed the prizes for the games of chance to Christmas treats.

Food-wise, there's "glögg" (mulled wine) which is available alcoholic or not, Christmas beer, Christmas cheese, Christmas bread and ljuskatten (saffron buns in the shape of sleeping cats), lots of Christmas ham, Christmas candy (I kid you not - it's called skum. It's like marshmallow but not as nice. Skum in swedish means foam if that helps at all), and special Christmas Coke called Julmus. The Coca-Cola people have tried to buy the rights to it several times with no success. It also comes out at Easter and it truly is uniquely Swedish.

We brought our julgran home from the lot this morning - carried it the 3 blocks from the square at Hagakyrchan to the flat. Peter thinks it's about 10 feet tall.

We are confident ours will be a white Christmas. Here's hoping yours is too. And if you're having trouble finding the magic in the season, have some gingerbread. In Sweden, gingerbread makes you nice.

Pepparkakor går dig snälla.

London Part III - The Long Road Home

Our last day in London was full of ups and downs. It was warmer out (slightly) but there was a tube strike so getting around was more complicated. We got to Victoria Station to find platform 9 3/4, but the station was under construction so that platform wasn't accessible. (Now maybe it never is to non-magical people). We spent some nice time at Covent Garden, had lovely big scones with clotted cream, but had no luck finding any of the books we were looking for at Foyles Charing Cross (give me Chapters anytime). We made it back to the airport in spite of transportation delays only to get stuck in an extra long line at security. Then, security decided that my bag of creams and perfume, my bag that had successfully passed through security 15 times in the past 7 months (I know because I counted) wasn't going through. Long of short, they kept me so long (while everyone else watched) that we missed our flight, had to buy 4 new tickets back to Gborg and a night in a hotel. Upside to the hotel - it was much nicer than where we had stayed in London. Their lobby bar has a 2 story (maybe more) plexiglass tower in it. It's a giant winerack and 2 girls fetch the bottles doing routines like something from Cirque de Soleil. Made it back to the flat about noon Tuesday to discover that Salem had closed himself in Elizabeth's room at some point during the weekend, probably early on. He looked a little thinner but otherwise none the worse for wear.

The kids had a good weekend. The first day was great. The second day was pretty great too (all the cold makes for good stories). I'd like a mulligan for the last one(s).

London Part II - All's Well That Ends Well

According to the fabulous waiter / maitre D guy at The Orange where we had dinner, this is the coldest weekend London has had yet this season. Really? I hadn’t noticed. In case you’re worried that being cold ruined a good day, it didn’t. It’s just the over-riding theme of this commentary. I’m starting to think that Brits are allergic to heating.

It’s probably not a good omen when the attendants in the breakfast room of the B&B are wearing heavy sweaters and shivering. After a cold breakfast, we suited up and headed off into the sunshine toward Buckingham Palace. There was nobody there. It was incredible. I’ve never seen the place so empty. After that, we found 10 Downing Street and Big Ben and walked along the Thames. Found the Millenium Bridge and the Globe Theatre. And good grief was it cold.

The last time I was at the Tower of London, I was 11. The memory I have of the place where we lined up for ages didn’t match what we saw today. It’s been a couple of years – I guess they’ve renovated. The tour was great. For an hour, we were told tales of famous prisoners by a very entertaining Yeoman Warder. There’s a skating rink in the moat too. We saw the Crown jewels too (Andrew’s best thing of the day). But it was so incredibly cold. Quite frankly I’m impressed I was able to walk away at the end because I couldn’t feel my feet below the ankles.

Peter wins today’s fabulous husband prize for his executive decision to take a cab from the Tower to Covent Garden instead of tubing or bussing. Quick. Ever so slightly warmer than being outside. THEN he found the pub we’d eaten at when we were here in April, The Round House at 1 Garrick , home to a great ploughmans and the somewhat elusive chip butty. Yes, my children had French fry sandwiches (on buttered white bread) for lunch. With more fries on the side. Yup – nutrition on a plate and Elizabeth’s best thing of the day.

Going to the movies in England is different than at home. You pre-select your seats. We were running short on time for our 4pm date with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, so we grabbed another quick cab ride, got to the theatre on Kings Road, and picked up our tickets. Ever watched a movie in a refrigerator? No? I wouldn’t recommend it. And I quote “the heating isn’t working in the theatre, so if it’s too cold for you, we’ll give you a voucher so you can come back tomorrow”. ARE YOU FLIPPING KIDDING? Apparently not. On a brighter note, the concession stand was a bar as in “would you like a martini or a glass of wine with your movie” bar. Very civilized. The movie was good. I found it easier to follow that the last one and yes family, I will read the last book so you don’t have to keep the ending a secret anymore. Andrew tells me Part 2 will be out in time for us to see it at home, summer 2011. I’m thinking – great – more cold with overactive air conditioning.

For dinner we wanted a Sunday roast, and we found a lovely one at The Orange on Pimlico Road. Pretty restaurant. Great food. Good service. The walk along Pimlico, past the Saachi gallery, and Sloan Square was really pretty with all the shops, streets, and squares decorated for Christmas.

So, here we are back at the dodgey b&b. Peter is snoring again (this time he didn’t sleep through any of HP – he just missed the previews. Something about darkened spaces?) I’m still cold, but I can feel my feet and for those of you thinking that the Ice Queen is always cold, this was way beyond chilly. Tomorrow, we’ll go to Kings Cross station in search of platform 9 ¾, (we weren’t going to Lisa, but then figured why not) have a scone with clotted cream (but probably not at Selfridges Krista), buy books, and prowl around Covent Garden before heading back to Stansted and our Ryanair home. The snow forecast for today didn’t materialize, but it may tomorrow just in time to delay the flight home. Oh, and the tubes will be on strike. Never a dull moment.

London Part 1 - Wicked

It’s right bloody cold in London. It’s been a long day and Peter’s already asleep. He had a nice snooze at the start of Wicked, but it wasn’t enough. We started out this morning with the Ryanair flight from Göteborg. If you’re not familiar with Ryanair, it’s a flying schoolbus. You line up to pick your seat – first come first chosen. Then, we took the train from Standsted to Tottenham Hale. Then we took the tube to Pimlico and discovered our B&B is closer to Victoria. Oh well – know for tomorrow.

Choosing small hotels and B&Bs off the internet is a bit of an art form. Most of the time I do ok. This time, notsomuch. It’s kinda dodgey. Ok, it’s really dodgey. Central location – short walk to the theatre tonight, but that’s about the only thing going for it. Of all the places we’ve ever stayed, I’d say this one is the worst. Peter doesn’t seem to be too bothered – he’s asleep already. I guess his nap during the first act of Wicked wasn’t long enough…(ka-zing!)

Tonight at Wicked was the first time any of us had been to a show in London. I thought the London theatre crowd / experience would be about the same as Toronto’s. Not so. Do you know you can have a beer or a glass of wine while you’re watching the show? They sell snacks like at the movies. Pringles in little cans. Candy floss in a tub. Ice cream at intermission. Unbelievable. Peter thinks it’s very civilized (when he’s awake).

The show was wonderful. Elizabeth and I knew the music. She had most of the songs memorized and fought herself not to sing along. Me? I sang anyway. The voices were really good, and I really liked the treatments of the songs. They put their own spin on everything – it wasn’t just a karaoke version of the Broadway album. And everyone had English accents. Makes sense given the locale, but I’m wondering if all Munchkins like Bok sound Irish? I didn’t really sob until As Long As You’re Mine, then For Good and the happy ending polished me off. They run away together – I loved that!

Tomorrow’s agenda is walking all the way to the Tower of London, (if we go along the Thames, we can see Big Ben along the way), gazing at the Tower Bridge, a good ploughmans in a pub maybe near Covent Garden, Harry Potter at 4pm (do you know here you have to reserve your seat ahead of time?) then dinner somewhere. Oh, and I forgot the scones with clotted cream and the never-ending search for a good chip butty (for them. Not me. Repeat – not me).

~ because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

Christmas music and the kindness of strangers

Ever sat at the back of a church during choir practice? It's lovely, especially at this time of year.

Thursday mornings, I sing with the international ladies group from Andrew's school. We're all mums who like to sing. Our director, Peter, is the organist / choir director at Askimskyrka, about 15 minutes away from where we live. He has us doing Christmas music at the moment - swedish classics, english classics translated into swedish, a couple of english english classics thrown in to appease our linguistic challenges. My favourite is "Jul, jul, strålande jul" because with our 2-part harmony lady voices, it's beautiful.

Peter also has a youth choir, and he warmly welcomed my Sprout. Tonight is the first time we've come out, hence the reason I'm sitting at the back of a church during Tuesday night practice. I really hope this works out for Andrew. There are 19 young people up there, aged 14+, singing in 4 part harmony, and it's beautiful. Currently, they're singing swedish translations of English carols. Andrew may be familiar with the melodies, but he doesn't yet read swedish, so it must be interesting for him being up there, surrounded by kids he doesn't yet know, singing in a language he doesn't yet know either.

Peter also extended the invitation to the members of my ladies' group to join his regular church choir, and I'm going to take him up on it. He's incredibly kind is Peter. There is a tremendous feeling of the familiar with church music - the traditions stand no matter what country you're in or what language you're using. It's a bit like coming home. And to that end, I leave you with the current song - Caroling caroling now we go,

Christmas bells are ringing.

Caroling, Caroling through the snow,

Christmas bells are ringing.

Joyous voices sweet and clear,

Sing the sad of heart to cheer
Ding dong, ding dong,

Christmas bells are ringing

Here's hoping the music of the season brings your heart to cheer too.

hits & misses

This is the long answer to the short question from my friend Leslie. Leslie asked me what the best thing is about Sweden and what I miss the most. So here, in no particular order and with my usual lack of brevity, is my answer.

Best: (the hits)

• the League of Extraordinary, Strong, Resilient women I have met here. They know. They get it. They are clever and inclusive. There is always room for one more. They are full of suggestions. They are, in a word, amazing.

• the pace of life. It's a lot slower yet I still find ways to fill the day. Peter and I will take an hour on a Saturday or Sunday morning and have coffee in the café in the next block. Ostensibly we go to read, but we end up planning something or just catching up. I go out for lunch at least once a week. Most days I take myself for a walk, and there's an art exhibit I've been meaning to get to. I could walk Andrew to and from school most days if he wanted me to. It took her a while, but Elizabeth in particular likes not dancing 24/7. She has time to go for fika with her friends after school, go to the gym, and not rush her hw. As far as she's concerned, the only 2 things missing from Sweden are Payless and 5bucks.

•Oslo. All the travel is good, but Oslo was pure magic.

•the back stairs and the attic because they're a trip through time

• my tvättstuga (laundry room). It's no bigger than a closet, but an excellent use of space. Has everything you need in it. I wish I had one at home

•automatic doors. They're on everything. Except the doors to our building and the one for swedish class

Misses…

• I miss leading. I did a lot of good at home. I helped to create a lot of happy. I have yet to find ways to do that here - lead, give back, create.

• Crisco. I don't like baking with butter. Stuff runs - it doesn't keep its shape the same way.

Canadian Conundrum

What does it mean to be Canadian?

I'm not the first to ask, and I know I won't be the last. But here in this mix of internationalism where we live, it's a hard question to answer. Do you have any Canadian wedding traditions. Um no. Open bar? How about Canadian Christmas. Well, it depends what part of the country you're from and what culture your heritage is. How do I explain that to be Canadian means being modest to the point of underplaying yourself so badly you seem unsuccessful. It means being open-minded to the point of appearing wishywashy. It means trying really hard never to piss people off because you are polite.

Does it also mean an affinity for pinetrees, lakes, and plaid flannel? Maybe if you're from Northern Ontario. Intravenous maple syrup? Shareholder in Tim Hortons? Love / hate relationship with hockey, winter, mosquitoes, and interminable road construction? Does it go unsaid that you are respected internationally for your peace-keeping efforts and general willingness to help out?

Andrew has to take "Canadian" breakfast to school on Thursday. What on earth is he going to bring? Joe Canadian does not eat back bacon on a daily basis. We eat Special K. Eggos. That's Canadian (are they back in the stores yet or does the national Eggo waffle shortage continue?) Now where on earth in Sweden am I going to find a class-set of Eggo waffles?

The best way to sum it up is as follows: Enjoy and please feel free to post your (polite) opinion.

Joe Canadian Rantcopyright Molson Canadian Beer Company, April 2000

Hey, I'm not a lumberjack, or a fur trader.... I don't live in an igloo or eat blubber, or own a dogsled.... and I don't know Jimmy, Sally or Suzy from Canada, although I'm certain they're really really nice. I have a Prime Minister, not a president. I speak English and French, not American. And I pronounce it 'about', not 'a boot'. I can proudly sew my country's flag on my backpack. I believe in peace keeping, not policing, diversity, not assimilation, and that the beaver is a truly proud and noble animal. A toque is a hat, a chesterfield is a couch, and it is pronounced 'zed' not 'zee', 'zed' !!!! Canada is the second largest landmass! The first nation of hockey! and the best part of North America My name is Joe!! And I am Canadian!!!

The Big November road trip day 4 - Home again

We nearly didn't make the ferry.

As chief naviguesser, I was in charge of the map to get us out of Berlin. The route I picked snaked through city streets rather than along the expressway so it took longer than anticipated. We did however get more impressive views of Berlin wall remnants.

It rained. You can't fly along the highway at 160 on wet pavement.

There were big trucks on the small secondary roads and nowhere to pass them. Noon came and went. 12:15 came and went. We made it to the check-in for 12:30 and were the last car loaded on before the 12:45 departure.

There are so many things I just don't tend to think about. e.g. it's November. We were sailing on the Baltic Sea. Didn't the Edmund Fitzgerald sink when the gales of November came early? And that was only Lake Superior. Rough seas. Everyone on board walked in zigzags. Kinda funny actually once you got over the lilt.

We made it home the rest of the way wishing we could still drive at German lightspeed. Our Salem was glad to see us. Milles mercis to Michele and Loïc for taking care of him while we were away.

The Big November road trip day 3 - Back to Berlin

The stories about the German autobahn are true. The MINIMUM speed limit on dry pavement is 130km, so you set your cruise at 150 and they still fly past you. The weather report said ‘fog’ and I thought they were kidding. In Canada, the sun burns off fog in a couple of hours. Not here apparently. We had ‘fog’ and overcast all day.

In 1988, I did the Eurail pass trip with Michelle and Natasha for our Easter break from Université de Nice. I voted to go north and see Berlin. I got outvoted and we went to Corfu instead. After wandering Berlin today, I don’t know what we would have done here 20 years ago during the occupation. I remember wanting to see the wall. Today, I saw it. It’s smaller (shorter and less imposing) than I imagined it would be. There are pieces of it at Potsdamer Platz. The outline of the line the wall followed is inset into streets and sidewalks. The biggest piece of the wall is at Zimmerstrasse & Niederkirchnerstrasse. It’s been turned into a really good sunken (lower than street level) museum about the rise of the 3^rd Reich, the Nazis, the occupation, and the wall.

There is a lot of interesting architecture, most of it modern when you think about it because it has only been 20 years since the end of the Occupation. What is most impressive is looking at photographs of the results of the bombing of the city at the end of the war, then comparing it to what we saw today. I think the kids will remember the things we saw: the Russian monument, the Reichstad, and the Brandenberg Gate, Checkpoint Charlie and the wall, the Sony Centre and the Tiergarten. I don’t think they grasped much of the story: that the wall only came down 20 years ago, that people died HERE, that there weren’t the freedoms we expect. I need to teach myself more about the war and the German / Soviet history.

We got a taste of Berlin in our afternoon here. Andrew’s favourite thing is that they have cobblestones representing where the wall used to stand. Peter and Elizabeth’s was the Wall museum on Niederkirhnerstrasse (and the schnitzel), as was the mine. As you walk from Potsdamer Platz to Checkpoint Charlie, there’s a big empty field. Makes you wonder if it’s a left over piece of the death zone, the empty space beside the wall, left empty so the East German guards could spot you and shoot you faster if you tried to escape.

The Big November road trip day 2 - Exploring Prague

Prague is beautiful. It feels very relaxed. It’s steeped in history (isn’t everywhere on the continent?). There’s the old Old Town and the new Old Town, the Charles bridge where King Wenceslas (yes, that Kind Wenceslas) threw a priest off the bridge because he wouldn’t share his wife’s secret confessions, the Jewish ghetto that Hitler had planned to turn into a museum after he triumphed in the war (and we know how that turned out), and the castle. It would have been a great place for shopping if only we’d had the time.

Here are a few tidbits:

One of my default tv programs at the cottage is “Rick Steeves Europe”. He’s a travel guy that goes everywhere. I’m quite sure I saw a RSE about Prague and the astronomical clock. Kinda cool that I’m getting to see the stuff from the program. Prague’s Stare Mesto Clock was built in 1410. It works according to the movement of the stars and moon and measures sunrise and sunset, what day it is in the year (in Czech name days), phases of the moon, and the signs of the zodiac. Statues of the 12 apostles rotate through windows, and the skeleton rings his bell to remind us that time waits for no one (so profitez-en!)

We only had 1 day in Prague, so I signed us up for a 4 hour walking tour. Our guide Gaston (from Chile) was terrific and very knowledgable. There were 2 Indian ladies in our group – the wife of the attaché to the Defense Minister and her friend.

The Charles Bridge was built in 1357. Shortly thereafter, King Wencelas threw John of Nepomuck the royal priest and confessor off the bridge to his death because John wouldn’t tell the king what his queen talked about during her confessions. Prague was Protestant, then it was Catholic. Then the Russians moved in and no one practiced organized religion. Churches were claimed and re-purposed as living space, office space or storage space. After the Occupation ended in 1990, very few returned to formal religion although many churches remain.

There was a large jewish population in Prague. They lived within the walls of the Jewish Ghetto. Before the war, they numbered between 80 & 90,000. 77,000 were exterminated. Only a couple of thousand orthodox Jews live in the city now.

The reason we went to Prague was so that Peter could go to a ‘real’ Czech beer hall. We went to U Flecku. It originally opened in 1499. They brew their own beer (13%) on the premises. Waiters walk around with trays of beer or Becherovska shots (40%), happy to replace your empty glass as often as you'd like. Becherovska is smoother than you’d expect, kind of sweet, and cinnamon flavoured. We’ve become big fans of Czech dumplings and goulash.

After dinner, we did a ghost walk. This was our Halloween. For a bit under an hour, we wandered the streets listening to (invented but plausible-ish) stories. And we did manage to sneak in a bit of shopping – there’s a new pair of red gloves. These ones have fluff.

The big November road trip day 1 - Getting to Prague

The keys to my blog just came up in czechoslovakian! Wild!

Anyway. It's been a long day. We were up at 1am Gborg time in order to be on the road for 3am. Now I know why the streets are so quiet at 6 or 7 - everyone was still out on the Avenue at 3! we drove through some wicked peasoup fog but still managed to arrive at the ferry at Trelleborg really early - even earlier than anticipated actually because we didn't know that the time changed last night, so our 3 am departure was actually a 2am departure. The ferry left at 7:45 as scheduled, and we slept, wandered, read our way for the 4 hour trip across the Baltic Sea to Sassnitz, Germany. About 10am, I decided it was time for coffee, so Peter, Andrew left Elizabeth to stay with the stuff, and went in search of morning snack. Coffee in hand, I wanted to sit with it for a bit, so I directed the 3 of us to the "quieter section", which turned out to be full of Slavic truckers well into their 2-4s of cheap dutyfree shop beer. So much for quiet. One of the truckers had trimmed his beard in what can best be described as the shape of a paper coffee cup. I kid you not!

Northern Germany is very flat. We were on a two lane road for a good while, and I kept imagining Snoopy as the World War 1 Flying Ace crawling through the countryside. I didn't have to use German (yet), which is good because there is a wicked language soup in my head at the moment - a mix of German and Swedish. Kinda wild.

We got to the Czech Republic under cover of darkness, but from what we could see, it's much hillier than the part of Germany we saw. We had to trust the road signs (looking for Praha and the E55 or D8) because we only have a city map of Prague, and that trust took us down a long country road beside a river. Very pretty - looking forward to seeing more of it with daylight. For a country that was occupied until 1990, it didn't seem any the worse for wear, but we were looking at it all in the dark.

So here Elizabeth and I sit, in the breakfast room of the Antik Hotel on Dlouhá street in Prague, she wifi-ing on her computer and me on mine. Our hotel is beautiful and very centrally located in the Old old town (as opposed to the New old town - more on that tomorrow). We have a busy day tomorrow - lots of walking around town. I promise to fill you in on all that, including Peter's pilgrimage to a Czech Beer Hall, after we get some sleep.

Small triumphs

Today hasn't been a great day. Suffice it to say that when I think back over the really hard days I've had since the move, and honestly there haven't been that many, they have tended to be Fridays. Most people rejoice over Friday. For some reason, I don't. There are lots of reasons I won't go into why today was low but the big one is that today at home would have been a special day for me. Day #2 on my top 5 list of favourite days at Hawthorne. But you don't need to read about that. Let's get on with the triumph.

Sunday v-e-r-y e-a-r-l-y, (3am? 2:30?) we're leaving on our superquick driving trip to Prague and Berlin. I wanted water soluble markers to write on the plasticized maps. You know, the washable kind you use for overheads. So, I hopped on the tram to Nordstan, tried Staples. Permanent markers only. Went to Akademibokhandler. Found what I thought were water soluble pens but wanted to check. Here's the triumph: I asked the clerk all my questions in swedish! I didn't do the language panic flip. I did the entire conversation in swedish. Was it perfekt? Probably not, but he understood me, and I understood him. And that, after all, is all that matters.

Enjoy Halloween. With luck, we'll celebrate a belated Halloween with a haunted walk in Prague on All Saints Day.

Lights in Alingsås

Tonight we drove 50 kms out of Göteborg to the town of Alingsås to see the lights. Every Oktober for the past 10 years, they have creatively lit the Swedish night. During the day, there are workshops and conferences about the impact of light, the environmental aspects of lighting, lighting design, and the future of lighting populated spaces. It's something to be seen.

This is what I consider to be typically Swedish - any excuse to be outside. Tonight was cold (3C) and rainy (boots and umbrellas), but many people were out. There were 6 major installations and several minor ones done by townspeople creatively lighting objects in their own yards. One was a shadow play beside the river. Another was a series of coloured lights dancing in the windows of an old factory building. A third was a street scape with uplit trees and 'rocks' made of wire. The fourth was a pedestrian tunnel which alternated between orange uplighting from under benches and blacklight hearts and snowflakes. Number 5 was a magical playground, complete with lights dancing in bushes and a coloured bottle chandelier suspended between the trees over a couple of benches. Our favourite (though Andrew would argue for the playground) was probably the canalscape of red trees and strings of lights suspended over the water in the canal. The light strings changed colour between white, yellow, green, purple, and red.

It was a really yukky night to be out, but with boots and umbrellas, ski jackets and mitts, it was still a great, memorable evening. I'm sure we'll return next year to see what's new.

Home is where the heart is

This entry may appear to be all about ego, but those of you that know me will know it's really about insecurity.

I used to be important.

important to 1300 people every day. Then I moved to Sweden.

They say that moving to a new country is #3 on the most stressful events list behind death of a loved one or a messy divorce. If you've never done it, if you've never been the one who has to follow and make it all work, not the one for whom the move is designed, but the one who is required to surrender her identity and start all over, then you won't appreciate that #s 1,2,&3 on that list are just about equal as far as I'm concerned.

I didn't know how it would go, coming back. Sometimes when you try to go back, to revisit, it's a disaster. But this hasn't been. I've been celebrated. I been made to feel important, to feel I still have a place, that I still matter, that my special friendships are still just as special. And it has been wonderful.

I leave for Sweden (home?) day after tomorrow. I'm sad, but not regretful. Alice doesn't belong here at the moment. Alice is supposed to be in Sweden, experiencing a new world. I'm ok with leaving in spite of the tears. Because I know that my special friends are constants.

Right, Voyager?

Oslo

I'm in love. With Norway.

My love affair started at Disney World. The Norwegian tourist board made a movie called "the Spirit of Norway" so powerful that it made me dream of the fjords. So, 2 Saturdays ago, we loaded up the car and drove to Norway, to Oslo, to see, among other things, the Viking ship in the movie.

Norwegian radio stations are a lot better than Swedish ones. We had to do passport control at the border. Unlike going through to the States, this was a casual affair. The border guard thought we were Swedish and was going to wave us through until Peter gave her the passports. We chatted about Canada and were on our way. All this under a carport. Nothing like the fortress you pass through at Niagara or Detroit.

We found Fall in Norway. Crispness to the air. Coloured leaves on the trees, gently floating to the ground. The Viking ship in the movie is called the Oseberg. She's the first thing you see when you walk in the door of the museum. She almost brought me to tears because I couldn't believe I was actually there. The museum houses 3 Viking ships and some artifacts, all dating from the 9th century. It's a piece of architectural sublety because the arched ceiling echoes the murmurings of the visitors, bringing a sense of community. It's surreal, and I'm not explaining it very well, but it was very effective.

Food. I had found a recommendation for a place in the hills overlooking Oslo - Frognerseteren - Kafé Seteren known for its apple cake. Of course, the driving directions downloaded from the internet didn't match the street names and it took far longer to find the place than anticipated, but it was worth the hassle BECAUSE we found the Hollmenkollen ski jump on the way. Originally built in 1892, it is currently undergoing massive renovations to be ready for the World Cup Nordic event at the end of February. It's enormous. I can't imagine what it must be like to stand at the top of that ski jump, overlooking Oslo, the bay, and the sea. We're going back for a day of events in March - 3 nordic skiing races topped off by the Mens' final for ski jumping that evening.

Frognerseteren is a big wooden nordic chalet built in 1891. We found a table upstairs with a terrific view of Oslo and the sea. Again, I was almost brought to tears because I couldn't believe I was there. It was grey and cloudy, but it didn't matter. It was still incredible.

We will see many amazing things over the next 2 years of the Shepherd European Adventure. There may be something that tops our day in Oslo. I can't imagine what.

p.s. the apple cake? Filo pastry bottom and top crust. In the middle was 3 inches of applesauce filling, topped off with another 3 inches of whipped cream. Insane.

BUS!

Once upon a time there was a little girl who wanted to go to choir practice. She did her research and figured out how to get there on the bus. She discovered that there was a hard way involving a tram, a transfer, and a walk, and an easy way with one direct bus. She chose the easy way.

Twice, she successfully took the easy 30 minute bus ride to choir and back again. But on this particular morning, things would work out otherwise.

On this particular morning, her husband offered her the car so she could drive to choir instead. 'Oh no, thanks anyway, that's too complicated', she said. 'The bus is much simpler'. But this is Sweden and nothing is as easy as it first appears to be.

She missed the bus. Oh well. The monitor listed 3 other #58 busses. She decided to hop on the next one. It would mean arriving a little late to 9 am choir practice, but at least she'd get there. She wondered why all 3 #58 busses were not called the same thing, but this is Sweden etc. She found out why.

At 9am, the bus driver announced that this was the last stop and that everyone should get off. The little girl was not at her stop. She was somewhere along the route but still a ways away. Nothing else to do but start walking. Fortunately the sun was shining. Fortunately she was wearing running shoes. Fortunately it was a pretty neighbourhood to walk through. Fortunately the roads looked familiar.

45 minutes later, she arrived at choir in time for Swedish Christmas carols and really good brownies.

Next week, she's going to make sure she's at her bus stop in loads of time to catch the correct #58 bus.

Find the courage and just go!

My Swedish homework for this past week was to learn 5 sentences by heart. Well, I kinda skimped on my homework, as in, I did the bare minimum for about 10 minutes last night. Didn't listen to the CD, repeating everything 10 times. Didn't re-organize my notes the way I want to. Level 4 procrastination.

The bigger thing was what did I want to be able to say? What is worth knowing by heart? My name is? I'm from? I live in the city centre? My husband works for Volvo? Not terribly useful phrases. I have this ongoing thing with myself that I want to be able to go into a café and order a coffee like a local. Stor kaffe med mjölk isn't quite it. Coffee aside, I needed stamps.

So I google translated my sentence and took it to class this morning. Had it corrected. Practised it all afternoon. Jag skulle vilja ha seks tolvKr frimärken. I would like 6 12krown stamps. Waited my turn at the post window, and away I went: Jag skulle vilja ha etc. He gets the stamps! I pull out my already calculated 72 Kr, and then he says what I think was 'would you like air mail stickers too'? and I blew my cover. Um yes, that would be nice.

GRRR - so close to pulling it off in Swedish and yet so far. Better luck next time...

Stockholm

Most people would not drive across Sweden to spend part of a day in the capital. We are not most people. In keeping with the idea of scheduling Saturday as a day to explore our new homeland, we left Göteborg about 6:15am to start the 5 hour drive to Stockholm.

We took the southern route that led through Jönköping and Nörrköping, as well as Husquvarna, home of the sewing machine and my washer and dryer. The road led beside an enormous lake at one point. Jönköping is the home of Saab, and has models of its jet airplanes at the offramps (abfart). It's very much like driving through northern Ontario. There's one stretch that looks exactly like Hwy 11 outside of Bracebridge, divided highway with rocks and pine trees. We drove through rain most of the way.

The directions I had printed from ViaMichelin were ok until we got to the outskirts of Stockholm at which point the road signs stopped matching the instructions I was following. They were close, but not exact, which led to a lot of u-turns and retracing our steps until finally we found our way to Gamla Stan (old town).

By noon, we were walking across the bridge on the northside of the palace when we heard a marching band. It was the fresh shift of guards, coming to do the Changing of the Guard ceremony at the palace. No police fuss the way there is in London. In London, there are police and barracades. Here, 2 horses led the way, but that was all.

The palace itself is well marked. There are maps about it (you are here) all over the place. We needed food, and quickly found a perfectly nice café just around the corner. We even found a table for 4 tucked in a back corner. Andrew is into quiche these days, so he ate his quiche and I had his accompanying salad. Elizabeth had a blueberry muffin, and Peter had an enormous ham and cheese sandwich. Well sated, we went off to buy tickets and start touring around.

There are various parts to tour at Kunga Slottet. The best bet is to purchase a combination ticket, which can be used all on one day the way we intended, or over a consecutive 3 day period. The Changing of the Guard was just ending, and, remember what I said about no barracade? Well in our hurry to get from A to B, we just tucked right in behind the last of the guards like we were part of the parade, and headed off to find the Treasury.

The Treasury Vault is part museum, but mostly a store room for crowns when they aren't being worn. There is a 45minute tour in English at 1pm. It was interesting, but a lot of standing around in a small space. The Swedish Monarch stopped being coronated 3 generations ago. Apparently, the Germans stopped wearing their crowns and the Swedes followed suit. When you see King Carl XVI Gustav on state occasions, his crown is nearby, but not on his head. When Crown Princess Victoria was married in June, she wore a crown, and the royal family gave one to her husband, Prince Daniel. Princess Sofia Albertina's crown contains 600 diamonds. She picked several of them off in the late 1700s and hocked them in Germany to fund an underground movement to overthrow the government, but had to buy them back again once it was discovered what she had done. Today all 600 are back in place. The silver throne which dates from 1650 was copied for the "Batman Forever" movie. Tommy Lee Jones as Two Face sits in it.

Next stop - Royal apartments. Before the English tour at 2pm, we had a few minutes to wander through the Bernadotte apartments. Today's palace 'opened' in 1754 at which time Queen Lovisa and King Adolf Frederik used the Bernadotte space as their residence. Lots of pretty rooms, great chandeliers, and paintings. Our tour of the State apartments was crowded. Life at Kungliga Slottet closely mirrored the style of Versaille and the rooms reflect that. One magnificent chandelier weighs over 600 lbs. After that tour, we quickly walked through the Guest apartments, which are still used today. The rest of the palace is only used as offices and for state occasions like welcoming new ambassadors, dinner parties, and wedding dances. The royal family lives outside Stockholm at Drottningholm.

The palace is only open from 12 - 3, so by now, it's not only 3, but pouring. Peter volunteered to journey back to the car to collect our rainstuff, while the 3 of us prowled the gift shop. I bought a book about the palace so I would have some photos of what we had seen.

Next stop: Storkyrken, the Cathedrale. Fortunately, it's right next door, so even in our rain stuff we didn't have far to go. The main religion in Sweden is Lutheran. Special features of this church include an altar made of silver and ebony, a statue of St George slaying the dragon, and a 6 ft, 7 candle, candelabra that has been in the church for 600 years.

Just down the lane from the Cathedrale is the Nobel Museum. By now, we're all exhausted, in good spirits, but enough of touring already, so we got some pictures of the front to say we'd been there, and went to find somewhere to eat.

In the cold and the wet, one looks for comfort food. In Sweden, typical fare for such a purpose would include meatballs with mashed potato, gravy and lingonberries, and pittypanna, which is essentially hamburg & potato hash with a fried egg on top. Add in hot chocolate with whipped cream and a couple of pints, and Bob's your uncle. Next time you're in Stockholm looking for a basic, warm, welcoming, reasonably priced place to eat, stop in at Kaffé Gillet directly across the lane from the entrance to the Cathedrale. They are wired for the tourist trade, but not in an off-putting way. It was exactly what we needed - warm and cozy, good food, good atmostphere, a great end to our day.

The drive out of town was much easier than the drive in had been. For one thing, this time I had a map and could see which street led into what. We found the highway, and had an uneventful trip back. Great clouds. Sky full of stars at one point, 3/4 moon at another, more rain too.

We road trip a lot because we're good at it. We can do 13 hours in a car without complaining. It's often my favourite place to be, because as long as we're together, and have a credit card and a cell phone, we can handle anything.

Delsjön tipspromenad

Last weekend was BBQ weekend.

Saturday, the PTA at Andrew's school hosted a bbq / potluck in the field behind the Lower school. It was grey and threatened to drizzle, but fortunately did not. I was asked to bring a salad, which I dutifully did - basic tossed St Lucia style which means grated cabbage and carrot. Mine was really boring compared to what everyone else brought. Dessert-wise, there must have been 35 choices, and Andrew tried at least 30 of them.

We all found people to talk to. I don't like working a crowd - I find it intimidating, but I made a point of stopping to chat with my classmates and the ladies I had met at the walk at Slottskrogen 2 weeks ago. Peter's classmate, Toshio, was there with his wife and children. They have come directly from Japan, and are having a tough time. If you have English here, you can survive. His family doesn't yet have English. They will learn English before attempting Swedish.

Sunday we were at Delsjön with the Relocation group. Delsjön is a lake / conservation area just outside of the city. To get from the parking lot to the picnic site, we had a tipspromenad. Trivia questions had been staggered along the path and you work your way from question to question, from start to destination. We now know what IKEA stands for and the names of the singers in Abba. The park itself looks a lot like Haliburton. We had fall weather too - sweaters and grey, but the leaves here haven't started to turn yet. Andrew had a great time sharpening sticks for the hotdogs with his jacknife and playing in the water with the other kids. Peter and I had some great conversations with other newcomers. We made some new friends, from Brisbane Australia, who had just arrived the week before. They have 2 children - a 6 year old and a 5 month old. Can you imagine this move with a baby? Boggles the mind. Their poor kitty is still in Australia. She's being shipped over in November I think. I guess they didn't have the lead time on the move we had, and that's why they weren't able to complete the required paperwork in time to bring the cat with them. They are currently in a flat awaiting the arrival of their furniture (in October) before moving into their house. Most of our friends are in the suburbs in real houses. We like our flat in the city, although Elizabeth is starting to complain that none of her friends live nearby so she can only see them during school.

The menu was hotdogs and marshmallows. My French friends had never toasted marshmallows before. Michele said it was a 'very American' thing to do. Swedish hotdogs (korv) leave something to be desired as far as I'm concerned, but they are definitely better cooked on a stick over an open flame. Ketchup and mustard are standard, as are onion bits. Looks like bacon bits, but they're bits of fried onion. Oddly, no one brought a cooler of beer or the makings for smores - definitely not a Canadian cook out! Next time we'll show them how it's really done....

Swedish class

I'm writing from the trailer that is the home of Volvo's language classes. On Wednesdays, Peter and I both have class. His is at 8; mine is at 9 or so. I've tried driving him out, dropping him off, going back home, and returning, but it's a lot of rush hour traffic nevermind having to park away from our own street because of Wednesday morning street cleaning, so today I came out with him at 7:30 and here I sit in the kitchen.

I've only had 3 lessons so far, and I haven't reviewed or practised the way I should, but I'm starting to recognize things. On Saturday, I bought something for femte fyra and I knew how much that was (54kr ~ $7.50). We bring in questions and pictures of things we've seen, and Margereta explains them. Yesterday, Michele brought more parking questions. Today, I've brought the pictures of the washing machine and dryer and we're going to talk about that. Woohoo! I may actually learn how to use more than one setting on the machine!

I really like my French classmates BUT they're pronouncing all the swedish with a french accent and that makes it hard for me to capture the intonations of the swedish.

Yesterday, Margereta brought muffins. Good ones too - she's an excellent baker if those muffins were any indication. In good teacher form, they were props. There are 5 muffins. Det finns fem stycken (pieces). Det är tria med mandel (3 have almonds) etc.

I have to go - 15 minutes until class and I haven't finished my homework yet.

Ha en bra dag (have a good day!)

Lost in Translation

So, I met up with Andrew and friends after school yesterday.

Grilled them about what they were doing and how they were getting home.

They were going to Nordstan, the mall at the bottom of the Avenue. Fine.

André (from Portugal) was going to take the tram from Central Station at 6 to get home. Fine.

Santiago (from Mexico) was going to meet his mother at the library at 6 to get home.

The library on the Avenue, I ask. Yes, he says.

Fine - Andrew can meet me there too. And we all go our respective ways....

About 5:45, Elizabeth and I walk over to the library.

6:00 - no Andrew. Fine. Probably didn't leave until 6.

And we wait. And busses come and go.

And yesterday's winner of the Fashion Faux Pas goes by:

man in bike shorts and a leopard print rain jacket. Not kidding!

And we wait.

Then Andrew walks up the stairs from the street, not the bus stop.

At 6, when the boys were leaving, Santiago goes into the book store.

Andrew says, where are you going? I'm going to meet my mom.

He was meeting her at the librairie = book store not library = bibliotheque.

I didn't know Spanish (Mexican?) differentiated the way French does.

Interesting.

This also explains why my internet was cut.

I called it internet instead of broadband.

Lesson: In the world of the United Nations where we now live,

make sure you're using the local lingo.

Perspective

You know that saying, "do something each day that scares you"? If you do, what's it supposed to do for you? Is it supposed to ensure your life isn't boring? Is it supposed to improve your confidence? I've been living that way for a while now - trust me, not much in my life is boring at the moment and my confidence isn't making any great strides.

Everyone's heard me say (several times) 'oh well - makes for a good story'. Here are the stories I'm living right now. And for the record, I am sharing, not venting or complaining. Neither venting or complaining gets you any farther along the road.

E.g. small mercies (my heart goes out here). I'm writing on the balcony again - I'll get to why in a moment - and I just heard english. There's 2 small children with a late 20s woman walking along the path. The boy has just fallen down, and I think the woman must be their nanny. She told him to be a big boy and come along to school. And he did, and they're gone. I remember having to do that. Did that with my own this morning and he's 13. Worried about how big or small his towel is for when he has his mandatory shower after gym class. Wanting Mom to go with him on the tram after all, just to the top of the road, the stop he'd get on from if he were going between schools during the day, then he'd carry on to gym class alone. So I went. Today after school, he wants to go off with his friends. Never done that before. Never been invited before. He came home with the plan all written out a couple of days ago so he could salespitch me, then yesterday, the other boys changed the plan. Mother (me) decided that rather than just saying ok, head off someplace I have no idea where in a city you don't know that functions in a language you don't speak, she'd head the 3 of them off when they got out of school at the end of the day, grill them on where they were going and how they were going to get Andrew back home in one piece. Let's hope this works out. Let's hope Mother can make it happen for him. Let's hope these boys can be trusted.

Back to this week's 'makes for a good story' and small blessings. I'm internet-less again. Even the portable broadband stick is out of juice. I'm on the balcony, thank you linksys, and it's starting to rain, but there's a bit of an overhang, so I can keep typing. Why am I internet-less again you ask? Well, the electrician for the building cut the phone wire. Everything filters in through the phone wire - broadband, phone, tv. Yup. He mentioned in his broken English that he would be changing the wire. I thought he meant another time. I didn't think he meant he was going to cut it and then go home. Guess what. He meant he was going to cut it and then go home. Telia, the main phone company, may be able to send someone out Tuesday (today is Friday and this happened last night). Evidently an urgent matter. Would this happen in Canada? I don't know. My dealings with Cogeco cable have been less than impressive. They've taken their sweet time fixing things too.

We live above 2 cafés. One is changing ownership it looks like because they've gutted it and are remodelling. At 3am. I don't hear noises during the day, but we hear the workmen at night. Across the courtyard, somebody is having a flat fixed up. Those workmen (maybe the same guys but I don't think so) seem to prefer sitting in their window having a smoke (snuffing out the butts on the wall underneath) to working. They seem to stop for a smoke a lot. Glad I'm not paying them.

See - nothing earth shattering. Just makes for a good story. Is having the internet back going to improve my life? No - it will just make it more convenient. Mostly it's that we've been waiting for all this technology for so long, to finally get it connected, and then to lose it again for an indeterminant period of time...

On the upside,

*the personnumers finally arrived. Check that off the list.

*There's a national election looming. They have more political parties than you would believe and all of them have booths in public places to chat up their issues. I haven't yet figured out what the platform issues are for the Pirate party (I'm not kidding - there's a Pirate party).

*The 3 of us got to go out to pick up Peter twice this week because I kept the car. We got to climb all over the rocks at the harbour. It was sunny and beautiful both times.

*My circle of people is expanding. I went to choir yesterday and met more successful, confident, friendly women. They have a craft group on Mondays, play tennis on Tuesdays, have choir on Wednesdays, and get together for other things on a less rigid schedule. I'm thinking about craft group, have Swedish lessons Tues and Wed, and will go back for choir next Thursday.

Yesterday's prize for best swedish outfit. Picture this if you will - on a man. Kelly green polo shirt. Button down over the polo. Button down is purple. Topped off with a popsicle pink cardigan. Yup. Men here don't fear colour, though most of them aren't that daring.

Just keep swimming...

Swedish class

Let's start with an update:

1. I am inept. The girl at the Telia shop showed me how to access stored numbers when dialing or texting. It's opposite to the way I'm used to. There's a surprise.

2. We did buy the Venus Flytrap and he's earning his keep.

This morning I started Swedish class and it was wonderful! There will be 4 of us - today there were 3: me and 2 French women, Michelle and Florence. Laurence will join us tomorrow.

Our teacher is an older woman named Margareta and I really like her way of working with us. She's a farmer in her off hours, blueberries and vegetables. We started with long vowels and trying to perfect the pronunciation of them. I thought it was very linguistically based, her method, because she ties it all back to the placement of the tongue in relation to the mouth and the teeth, which is exactly how one works in Linguistics. I haven't internalized anything yet but I'll work on memorizing my numbers 1 - 10 (ett till tio). My homework is to bring in a sign or phrase I see around town that I don't understand, so this afternoon I will go for a prowl with my camera and my notebook. This morning, she helped decipher the mysteries of Swedish parking rules. Hopefully, armed with this new knowledge, Peter and I will be able to save some money on parking tickets.

It's an interesting study, examining the styles of our various teachers for other language acquisition. (What do you call it when you already speak a second language so it can't be called swedish as a second language because most of us are working on at least #3?) Peter's teacher started with the usual assortment of phrases: My name is, I'm this old. etc. Elizabeth started with the names of the letters of the alphabet. Andrew is mum on the subject and no help whatsoever. I started with the 9 long vowels, #s 1-10, basic question: How many ___ have we? (Har månge ___ har vi?) As someone who teaches other language acquisition, I've been thinking about how I could modify my program to make it more useful. A lot would depend on purpose: travel, interest, survival? Instead of pleasantries, we should start with necessities of daily life. Don't ask me what those might be - I'm drawing a blank. Banking terms? Internet set- up terms? Binding clauses for phone contracts? It would be useful to know how to say "I'd like this suit cleaned please" or "Can I make a reservation for 4 at 19:00" in Swedish. I can't wait 'til the day I can confidently order my large coffee with skim milk. stor kaffe is about as far as I get at the moment. The non-fat milk part is baffling.

Hej - I'm having fun. I'm so glad to finally have this part started.