Sommarstängt (Closed for Summer)

Well, it appears this blog closed for the summer. Which is fitting since it felt that Sweden (at least Lund) did the same. When almost the entire country has 5-6 weeks of vacation, they need to take it sometime. And that "sometime" seems to be July.

We went to the U.S. during this time for a wonderful visit, and even though we thought we had lots of time, we still didn't get to see everyone we'd hoped to. But we had a great visit, and the boys learned to swim in Nana's pool which was an amazing thing to witness. Henrik went from a floatie ring to jumping independently into the pool and swimming to us.

When we returned it was mid-July, and I thought, where did everyone go? I'd heard that Lund, a University town, was "sleepy" in the summers, but I'd never experienced a town fall asleep before. It felt like the little fairies from Sleeping Beauty had flown through the streets with their magic wands and put everyone to sleep. In general, everything shuts down, even summer camps, soccer, and swim lessons! And since no one is here, no one plans anything, and I think because of that, no one is here. The boys asked for play dates with their school friends, but everyone was on vacation.

There were a few people here and there, mostly tourists who I quickly discern now as they wear back packs and walk in couples or groups. I missed my friends and family from home, and being in an empty town didn't help. I needed to get re-grounded here, so I walked around quiet Lund, and took in her beauty. I noticed doorways I hadn't seen before, as I usually was rushing from one place to another.

And I loved the "Closed for Vacation" signs in the shop windows:

The University building sat quietly, waiting for her students to return:

And now, the students are returning. The bike racks are becoming full and the average age of the town is skewing closer to 19-23 or so. With everyone back I appreciate the quiet summer, but am glad the town is waking again.

Biker Mama

One of the cool things about living in Lund is how bike-friendly the town is. It's often easier, and more fun of course, to ride your bike than to drive thanks to all the paths throughout town.

Here's a "parking lot" in downtown across from the Lund train station:

And another in Malmö:

My little legs are getting back in biking shape, just like they were 16 years ago or so, when I attended the University of Colorado at Boulder. Even so, everyone passes me here. A guy in flip-flops on a rusty bike with the chain half-on passes me. Ten year-old girls discussing the day's gossip pass me. Retired men and women with grandkids in the baby seat pass me. But I did have a moment of triumph the other day as I realized was about to pass someone. So what if she was about 80, and didn't seem to be in rush? (And it was down hill.)

Mats took a picture of me on the way back from dinner recently. My sister says I look like I'm in the Sound of Music, which made me laugh because that's what I think about everyone here.

Happy trails!

Can't Sleep

I know what you're wondering - what does our backyard look like at 5 a.m.?

Well, wonder no further:

The sun rose a while ago, the birds are singing, and with an open window in the bedroom, it's impossible to sleep. Welcome to (almost) summer time in Southern Sweden!

I wish I could record the sound of the birds, because it's an amazing sound. Kind of like a rainforest, but with smaller birds. (Disclaimer: I've never actually been in a rainforest, but I did visit Rainforest Cafe once if that helps.)

The birds are quite busy here in Sweden, and don't seem to get much rest with all that chirping, flying, and whatever else it is they do in the daylight hours. Today, according to Google, the sun rose at 4:24 but I can attest that it was light earlier than that. The sun plans to set tonight around 10 p.m.

It's one of the best times to be in Sweden - the strawberries are out, the flowers are in full bloom, and the ice cream truck plays its melody through the streets at 8 p.m.

Welcome summer!

Anniversary

Today marks my 14th anniversary of visiting Sweden for the first time. I remember as the plane descended towards Malmö, and I saw the southern coast of Sweden and the rectangular green fields that glowed under an intense sun, complemented by dark grey clouds in the background.

Right now I sit in my garden, and the journey from then until now feels unbelievable. Then, a 23-year-old graduate student searching and waiting for "real life" to begin. Now, a 37-year-old mother and wife, looking forward to cultivating her career, and asking for guidance to do her part in creating a happy, healthy, and peaceful family, community and world.

Although warm sunny days are wonderful and needed, my favorite weather is sunny with rain clouds approaching. Everything is so much more intense- the colors, smells, and light. And I love rain, especially when it comes in the evening and leaves by morning, just like it did last night.

Here Henrik practices his sprints while rain clouds approach.

Swedish Spring has Sprung

I was beginning to wonder if the leaves would ever appear - I'd never gone so long without greenery. But the last three weeks we've had beautiful sun-filled days here, California weather I call it, though it's really a Swedish spring.

And just like that, there were leaves. And blossoms. And birds. People are smiling, coming out of hibernation, and queuing for ice cream. Or maybe that's just us.

Three weeks ago, our backyard looked like this:

And today:

Beautiful Vitsippa flowers carpet the forest near my in-laws' home, only to disappear after a week:

And here are some pictures from my neighbors' yards:

Happy Spring everyone!

Easter Witches

Easter (Påsk) is a big deal here in Sweden. Good Friday and Easter Monday are national holidays, with many people taking a half-day off on Thursday as well. During lent, my mother-in-law gave me branches with bright feathers attached to them. I asked her if this was traditional, as I'd never seen anything like them before. They are common here during Easter, and I've now seen them outside stores, restaurants, and in people's homes.

Here are some for sale at Lund's Farmers' Market:

When a friend called and asked if my boys wanted to be Easter witches with her son, I had no idea what she was talking about. Legend has it that on the Thursday before Easter, all the witches fly to Blåkulla, a magical mountain somewhere, and have a party with the devil. My Swedish teacher spoke about the witch-burning days in Europe, but assured us that no witches (also known as female healers) have been burned in Sweden for 300 years.

Anyway, it's now a tradition that during the Easter week, kids dress as nice witches (scarves, rosy cheeks, and freckles) and ring people's doors and give them little hand-made Easter crafts. The people, in return, give a coin, candy, or fruit. In other words, it's similar to Halloween, but not as specific a time, and everyone dresses as the same thing. (Halloween is celebrated here also, but it's more a new thing, not traditional.)

So, our boys dressed as witches on Thursday and went around the neighborhood, which gave me an opportunity to say hello to some neighbors we hadn't met yet. The kids got mostly candy, but when a woman gave them an apple, Henrik said, "I guess she didn't have any candy, so she gave us fruit."

Haircuts

My boys' hair was getting shaggy - I'd put off finding a place to get haircuts long enough. One mom said her friend cut her kids' hair, but recommended a cheap place if I didn't mind it not being very fancy. I called, and Henrik's cut would have been $40 (280 crowns), and Lucas' $50 (340 crowns).

When I told people here, they all agreed: haircuts are expensive in Sweden. (Random side-note: college education, aside from books and lodging, is free.)

I asked another mom, and she said her mom cuts her son's hair. I was seeing why people had friends or family cut their kid's hair. But she said there was a cheap place ($20) by the train station. I Googled "hår tåg Lund" (hair, train, Lund), but couldn't find it - I'm not very good at searching the internet in Swedish yet. But I found a place that, when I called, said kids' haircuts were $30, so I made an appointment, same-day.

The place was nice, but seemed more oriented towards older women compared to the kid's haircut place back home with the plastic castle and toys everywhere. Neither boy wanted to go first, so I told them they'd have a treat at home.

Lucas finally went, but Henrik hid under the antique chair saying, "I don't want a haircut!" Eventually I persuaded him, and he sat on my lap. We shared the black cape that's supposed to catch the hair, so we looked like a two-headed blob.

The woman looked at me and said with an accent, "At last, we're done. That wasn't easy." I agreed. I realized I didn't know if I needed to tip. I asked, and she said it was included, no need to pay more. I appreciated her honesty, and then gave the boys five crowns (80 cents) each to give her, just in case.

I'd like to learn how to cut my boys' hair - it can't be that hard, right? But then again, I found out a woman's cut and highlight is cheaper here (by at least $50) than at home. So I guess it all equals out.

Swedish Tooth Fairy

Lucas' tooth was so loose. Drove me nuts, I wouldn't be able to handle a floppy tooth in my mouth; but he let it get looser, and looser. It was the bottom right one, his second loose tooth.

He lost his first about a month before we moved here. It "just popped out" one day at school. He literally lost it for a few minutes, and then one of his friends found it on the floor under his desk. His teacher, used to her pupils' teeth falling out, had a cute little tooth-shaped necklace thing to hold the tooth.

When he woke up the next morning, there was a dollar bill under his pillow from the tooth fairy. Seemed to be the going rate. But she'd left his tooth, and this confused Lucas since she's taken his friends' teeth when they lost them. He looked at me and said, "Did the tooth fairy really come, or did you just put this under my pillow?" I asked him what he thought, and something on the TV distracted him, and that was the end of that conversation.

Two weeks ago he finally lost his second tooth. He had been crying earlier that day because every time he bit down, it hurt. With my urging, he tried to pull it out, and a few minutes later, he ran to tell me he'd lost his second tooth.

"Lucas, you're going to get a dollar!" Henrik said, evident that he wished his teeth were falling out.

"No, Henrik, we're in Sweden now, so it will be in crowns," Lucas replied. "Maybe I'll get 500 crowns! That's the biggest bill!" Then he started dancing and singing, "Money, Money, Money, must be funny, in a rich man's world!" (ABBA)

I laughed. "Lucas, 500 crowns is like $75, I don't think the tooth fairy gives that much."

"We'll see!" he said, still optimistic.

The tooth fairy came, and this time took his tooth. Lucas got a gold-colored coin - ten crowns. Seems to be the going rate. She wrote a little note in Swedish that said, "Welcome to Sweden Lucas!" (She used the plural vs. the singular form of "welcome" but that's OK, her job is collecting teeth, not writing after all.)

Da Stuff Arrives

Our stuff has arrived.

It felt like Christmas, but with two tall German Santas, maybe in their 40's, who came to the door 15 minutes earlier than the scheduled time to deliver the packages. One blond, the other dark, both wearing bright yellow reflective vests. I checked off the list of boxes as they came through the door, per their request. "26!" they'd say, and I'd check it off. "37!" and so forth.

After 68, or was it 70 boxes - there were more than I originally remembered - all were accounted for, and it had only taken 30 minutes. I asked them to open the wardrobe boxes, as I had to empty them before they left.

"I need to check if this is my husband's, or my clothes," I said, as the blond guy opened the top of one of the boxes. Out of the top of the box jumped a bright pink boa, a souvenir from my sister's bachelorette party. "I think this is mine," I laughed, "unless it's my husband's..." The guy laughed, and said with his German accent, "I hope not!"

I offered them coffee, but they had to go - they were next driving to Oslo, Norway.

The boys jumped up and down as we unpacked more, and more toys. I wondered what I'd been thinking, bringing that much stuff, but oh well.

Henrik got his Hobie and Shadow. Lucas got his LEGOs. I got my printer, label maker, Kitchen Aid, Trader Joe's crackers, and lots of other things. Mats got his big screen TV. I heard Lucas upstairs discovering his stuffed animal penguins, "Mrs. Schulz! Big Scratcher!" he yelled, as he greeted his old friends. (Mrs. Schulz is a penguin named after his kindergarten teacher.)

But, like Christmas, there is a come-down. We now need to unpack all these boxes and find places for everything. Henrik is looking for his small Curious George stuffed animal, which I have no idea if we packed. I try not to feel bad for him, he has a bed full of stuffed animals. With each box he asks me with sad eyes, "Did you find Curious George?"

With the unpacking of things from our previous home come memories of our friends and family who are still there. And I realize that they didn't come along with the physical things wrapped in brown paper.

But now I must go. Time to look for Curious George.

Waiting for Da Stuff

Before we left for Sweden, we had a bunch of decisions to make, and all seemed to have their pros and cons. The biggest decision, to move to Sweden, had finally been made, after only two or three years of vacillating. Granted, we counted ourselves lucky to have these options, but that didn't make the process any easier.

Should we:

Rent or sell our house in Ca?
Sell or ship our cars to Sweden?
Ship our furniture (most of it IKEA), or just our personal belongings?
Sell our remaining furniture and stuff, or get a storage unit?

We did sell our house, though we loved it, because we didn't want the transcontinental responsibility of an older home. We shipped one car, sold the other. We craigslisted most of our furniture and packed our remaining favorites in a small storage unit. And finally, we shipped our STUFF. 61 boxes in total, 21 of which were books and magazines.

We shipped it all about a month before leaving, and now, 2 months and 2 days post-arrival, our boxes are going to be delivered tomorrow, a Valentine's gift.

(Our car arrived 2 weeks ago, and the few boxes we were allowed to put in it were a welcome care package, including the mix for gluten-free cornbread we made the first night to celebrate.) Though I'm still puzzled why we shipped a random box of unsorted desk junk.

We've had endless conversations about our stuff. I've since forgotten everything we packed, or didn't pack, so when my kids ask, "Did you ship the talking globe?" my answer is, "I don't know, we'll see when the shipment arrives." (Although I'm pretty sure the globe is in storage. We'll have to pick it up this summer.)

I remember reading Waiting for Godot in high school, and thought this wasn't that much different. Except I think Godot never arrived. We did wonder if our stuff ever would arrive, as the date kept being pushed out. Henrik said, "I think our shipment is stuck in another world." I think he meant another country, as he'd heard us saying it had been in Germany clearing customs since before New Year's.

Lucas can't wait for his box of LEGOs and stuffed animals, Henrik can't wait to see Hobie and Shadow, his golden and black stuffed animal Labradors that were named after my mom's dogs of the same breed and colors. I'm 99% sure those are in there. I'm looking forward to getting our paintings, holiday decorations, our favorite food coloring-free candies, and whatever else it is I packed. Mats is waiting for his tennis shoes and most of his clothes, as we hadn't fully realized how long it would take.

I'm not sure where it's all going to fit in our townhouse without a garage, but we'll figure it out. Lucas says tomorrow we'll have a house made out of toys. He may be right.

Dark Days, Too

And then there was dark. And rain. And ice.

I thought it fitting to write about the dark since my last post was about light. It is dark here, especially when it's cloudy. And it's still mostly dark when I bring Lucas to school in the morning. Earlier this week we were on our way to school, and the wind was blowing. Henrik's bike slipped on the ice, and down he went, crying because the handlebar hit his side.

A Swedish woman walking by stopped to help, and by random coincidence, she'd been born in California. This didn't help Henrik, though, who refused to bike the remaining way to Lucas' school. Lucas couldn't go ahead because of the construction on Henrik's preschool. (They are building his preschool, right behind Lucas' school, and it should be ready in March. Not that I'm counting down, or anything.)

It reminded me of Alexander's No Good, Very Bad Day, a book I loved to listen to my mom read when I was young. In it, the little boy is having one of those days, and he keeps saying he wants to move to Australia. And his mom says, "They have bad days, even in Australia."

The day redeemed itself, though. On the way home, Henrik and I got to witness up-close the crane putting the last piece of the preschool pre-fab building together. That afternoon Henrik and I had a Mommy Preschool field trip downtown to buy some office supplies (my reward) and to visit the hot dog stand (Henrik's reward.)

And then the sun came out.

Northern Light

Whenever I told people I was moving to Sweden in December, I'd hear, "Be prepared for the dark!" Before we moved, I'd only been here in summer or late spring, so I didn't know what to expect.

We live in the very south of Sweden, where, in the dark of winter, the sun comes up around 8:30 a.m., and sets around 4:00 p.m. In the north of Sweden (above the Arctic Circle) it's more extreme, as they may only see an hour or so of light in a winter's day.

So many people warned me of the dark, that I wasn't prepared for the beautiful LIGHT. The snow helps, of course, but the sun's light is intense, blue-hued, and magical. I love it.

A Swedish Christmas - Dec. 24

For the past 13 years, Mats has celebrated Christmas with my family in California. We always talked about going to Sweden for Christmas, or having his family out to us, but it's a hard time to travel, and it never happened.

This year was the first time his family was all together for Christmas since he moved to the U.S., and the first time they got to celebrate with the kids.


We even hosted, for the first time ever. I always had romantic thoughts of cooking the turkey for the first time, but 1) I'm not much of a cook, and 2) we'd just moved in a few weeks before and I didn't want to hunt down a turkey in snowy Sweden. So instead, we had halibut. I think I'm happy to have that as a new tradition.


God Jul to all. And to all, a good night!

A Gingerbread Story (Late Dec.)

Nothing says a Swedish Christmas like a gingerbread house. And a warm mug of glögg, a sweet spiced drink.

Lucas and Mats engineered this year's creation. When I asked what the squiggly one was, Mats said it was the Christmas snake, of course. The boys loved this, and we've since had many discussions about the Christmas snake.


On Christmas Eve, we watched the traditional Kalle Anka (Donald Duck) program while viewing our nice gingerbread house. The Christmas snake, which broke into two, peeks out from the chimney. (As an aside, click here for a funny essay on Slate about the Swedish Kalle Anka tradition.)


After dinner, destruction and dessert.


We'll revisit this tradition next year.

Homesick (Dec. 20 - 23)

First, I couldn’t figure out how to open our front door. Mats had rung the doorbell upon returning from an errand. Lucas and I tried unsuccessfully to open the door to let him in - turns out the lock must be turned right, the handle pushed down, and the door swings out, not in, like in our old house. Lucas and I laughed at ourselves, but I was feeling a little dumb.

Then I tried opening a window upstairs. Once open, it locked and I had to ask Mats for help closing it. I was starting to feel frustrated. And helpless.

It took us a few nights and referencing the manual to figure out how to run the dishwasher. And the washer and dryer. Then the dryer stopped working.

But the final banana peel that broke the camel's back was the garbage. Wanting to execute a simple domestic task independently, I donned three layers of clothing, gathered up the three bags, and headed to the little garbage shed which houses the bins for our complex. At first I couldn't open the door, but finally managed to clear the excess ice and get it open. Once inside I couldn’t understand the writing on the cans, or which ones were for what type of garbage (household trash, food scraps, etc.) One said something about toothbrushes, diapers and shoes. I didn’t understand.

I figured it out by opening each bin, but at this point, I lost it and went home to cry. I wanted to tap my shoes and head home - back where I could read the signs. And where I knew how to dispose our trash. And all our recycling went in the same bin.

It lasted a few days: feeling blue, missing friends and my old home. The day before Christmas Eve, Mats suggested I go to town. "I think it will be good for you," he said. I looked doubtful. "What about the snow storm?" I asked. He said it wasn't a storm, just snow. So off I trudged to the bus stop and rode 15 minutes into town, solo for the first time.

I browsed stores with glowing candles and gingerbread hearts hanging in the windows. Everyone was doing final holiday shopping, the excitement contagious. I bought halibut from the fish market for our Christmas dinner. I visited the Lund cathedral, one of my favorite places on earth, and watched the prayer candles burn in the globe-shaped candelabra.

Tired, but satisfied from my little adventure downtown, I was making my way to the bus station when I realized I’d forgotten lemons and limes. Looking for a store, I saw a 7-11 on the corner. I don’t know which was more surprising – the fact that they have corner 7-11s here, or its decent produce section.

I joked with the cashier that I was speaking Swenglish as I said, "tre lemons" and "fyra limes." He laughed, and switched effortlessly to English, just as all the other cashiers had done that day. I said God Jul and turned to leave, but an old woman in line blocked my path, grinning so I could see a missing front tooth. "Merry Christmas!" she gushed with a heavy accent, "Happy New Year!" She smiled at me, a foreigner in her country.

We never know how much something we say, or do, can affect another person. This woman, an angel for the day, made me feel welcomed. And glad to be here.

Week One in Sweden Dec 12 - 18

After arriving and getting over jet lag, we enjoyed the snow that fell all week. The amount of snow is unbelievable, even to the Swedes who keep saying this isn't normal for the south of Sweden. The "worst winter in 100 years or more" is what we're hearing. Seeing as my boys have never lived in snow, they might argue it's the best winter in 100 years. Especially since they got to help Mats build this snow fort.


One morning after a snowy night, Henrik announced at the breakfast table that we wouldn't be able to leave the house because our door would be stuck. Mats and I smiled at each other, thinking, Where did he get that idea from? We assured him we'd be able to open the door.

Later, Mats tried to leave to go to the post office. The door wouldn't budge. Henrik was right- we were snowed in. Mats pushed the door enough to squeeze through and shovel us out. Mental note- listen to my boys when they come up with these random-seeming announcements!

Lucas and Henrik have enjoyed trying to make snow balls (the experts here say the snow is a bit too dry for this - who knew snow could be dry?)


We explained that snow angels can also be made with your face up.


And finally, good old-fashioned snow shoveling with hot chocolate afterward.