Dragon Tattoo fever

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

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

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



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

What's in a name day?

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

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

Baby, I can drive your car

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Outhouse Doors

and Waffles

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

Get outta my way

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Little Pony Steak

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

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

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

I hear the narrator say, "Ponny kött."

Pony meat???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Got Scarf?

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Crayfish party!

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

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

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

Loosely translated, the words mean:

 

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

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

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

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

Things I Like About Sweden, Part 1: Public Restrooms

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

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

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

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

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

Stockholm Pride Parade

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

"Proud parents of homosexual sons and daughters"

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

Gay police officers

Right back at'cha, guy on the left!

Free blessings from the priests.

"Do not execute our children for their love"

Another trip to Kallskär

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

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

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

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

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

A summer storm rolled through with some beautiful cloud formations.