Wow! I feel like breaking out into a slightly re-arranged version of JPY's classic song at this sight:



The ice in the bay is gradually retreating and soon we will be sailing along this bay like we were last summer:



It's hard to believe that it's the same place, isn't it? And I've been doing the very Swedish thing of dreaming about our sailing this summer. A sure sign that I've been here too long. Actually there are some other disturbing signs of that lately as well. Apparently, I did something terribly Swedish yesterday: I refused a coffee date with a friend because it conflicted with my laundry room reservation. That's not as specious an excuse as it sounds: These three-hour slots for washing, drying and ironing are a precious commodity. They require days of advance planning. Doing laundry requires as much thinking ahead as buying alcohol from Systembolaget, and as much patience as standing in line for a Stockholm nightclub; it's an investment in time one should not squander unnecessarily.

When I told my friend my excuse, she immediately said, "Oh, so it only took you three years to become Swedish. That's amazing." Add a generous dollop of sarcasm to that statement. I do hate being predictable like that, but not as much as going without underwear, so laundry room it remains.

Actually there is a whole laundry room culture in this country that needs to be explored. Many people believe in judgement day. A day of reckoning at the end of time when the good and the evil are sent their separate ways. The good get angel’s wings and blessings, while the rest get horns and endless heat.

Anyone who has ever lived in a Swedish flat knows where the final judgement will be handed down – in the laundry room. In front of the drier. For this is where sinners are revealed. It takes about 30 seconds for your doom to be sealed.

Swedish morality is simple and direct on this point: a good person cleans the lint filter on the drier. The filter collects lint from the clothing in the drier. Lint is like our old sins – a grey, diffuse, unappetising tangle. The only difference is that sins are caught by the filter of conscience. Lint is caught by the lint filter.

I know lint filters get no mention in the Bible, the Koran, the Abhidharma or the Mahabharata. To the best of my knowledge, there were no driers in the time of the prophets. But the moral code of the laundry room has deep roots in most religions: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. The Golden Rule appears in many sacred writings, though the wording may vary. It also appears on a sign in my building’s laundry room: “Leave the laundry room in the condition you would like to find it.”

And it is etched in letters of fire on my neighbour’s outraged visage.
“And what is this?” he asks with burning fury.
I look down at the lint filter. My neighbour holds it up for inspection: the entire surface is covered with the lint of sin. My lint, and it’s still there. Foul grey lint. I cringe with shame, searching for words to fend off the judgement I know is coming.
“I...uhm...must have forgotten...” I mumble.
“Forgotten?!” says my neighbour.
His accusation stings. I feel as if the sky may fall on me. My good name is at stake here. My cheeks redden. I break out in a sweat. The neighbour just stares at me and my lint.

Maybe I could assure him that I usually clean the lint filter. That I try to lead a good life, give to charity, am honest and forthright and help children and pensioners whenever I can, that I feed the birds in the courtyard, pay my taxes, always think the best of the people I meet...

But I know these are no more than excuses and evasions. My neighbour waves the fluffy evidence in my face.
“Well?”

It’s odd, actually, that the laundry room makes as big a difference as it does in Sweden. But in many housing areas, the laundry room is the only place where neighbours see one another. Otherwise, we live our family lives in our flats. We welcome our relatives and friends across the threshold, but only rarely do we invite our neighbours in for coffee, a party or a bit of socialising.

Instead, we meet in the cold light of the laundry room, amid humming machinery and piles of damp clothing and sheets. Maybe friendship can flower in the laundry room. Maybe pure Swedish wool can be mixed with Egyptian cotton, white mixed with colours. Maybe a glorious song can rise up from cheerful neighbours gathered round the laundry mangle. Maybe my neighbour and I can become the best of friends once the centrifuge winds down, look upon one another in all our common humanity.

“Well?” he repeats in the voice of doom.

Suddenly I catch a glimpse of his watch. I nearly faint. It’s only four! I’ve booked the laundry room until five – I have a whole hour left. The neighbour got the time wrong, came an hour too early. I have a full hour, 60 minutes, to exonerate myself as a human being, to save my good name. To clean the lint filter of the drier.

A Swedish author, August Strindberg, once wrote: It is not in our virtues but in our faults that our humanity resides. That’s a sign that should be put up in every Swedish laundry room.

Today is the official day for eating semlor in Sweden. Of course, I've been eating them for WEEKS now. *grin*

Sweden hasn't been Catholic since the 1500s, but the custom of feasting on Fat Tuesday, the day before the Lenten fast began, is symbolised here by the fettisdagsbulle (Fat Tuesday bun) This is also known as semla, after the Latin word for wheat bun, simila. These buns came from Germany to southern Sweden's upper class households in the 1600s. Originally, semlor were unfilled caraway buns baked from finely ground wheat flour, a luxury reserved for the well-to-do.

In 1737, a recipe by cookbook author Susanna Egerin called for scooping out the inside of the bun and mixing the crumbs with raisins, dried currants, sugar, and unwhipped cream; this mixture was cooked together and stuffed back into the buns. Then in 1755, another cookbook writer, Cajsa Warg, described cutting a lid from the top of the bun, scooping out the contents and blending those crumbs with unwhipped cream or milk, egg, almonds, sugar, and butter. She then tied the lid back on and cooked the bun in milk for half an hour; the bun was served swimming in warm milk.

These buns became infamous in 1771 when the Swedish King Adolf Frederick (1751-1771) died after a meal of oysters, lobster, meat with turnips, caviar, smoked Baltic herring, champagne and semlor. Blamed for the royal death, the buns were immediately banned. But by the early 1800s, wealthy Swedes were buying the buns from bakeries and distributing them, along with alcohol, coffee and other treats, to their serving folk on Fat Tuesday.

By the end of the 1800s, almond paste and whipped cream were used to fill semlor and the buns were eaten on a plate accompanied by a cup of coffee. Today, this yeast bun filled with a mixture of scooped-out crumbs, almond paste and milk; topped with whipped cream; and dusted with confectioner's sugar can be eaten either on a plate or in a bowl of hot milk. First limited to Fat Tuesday, then to Tuedays during Lent, semla can now be purchased in some Swedish bakeries from the week after Christmas until Easter, and in some places, even year-round.

It's a veritable blizzard outside today. The snow is pelting down horizontally in a blind fury. The wind is howling straight up our street and I'm looking out of my window at a kind of bizarre Marcel Marceau show outside as people attempt to walk against the wind and fail miserably. I'm dreading taking the dog out in it.

At the moment, I'm listening to a medley of Ted Gärdestad songs. The songs all make me smile, they are so light and full of joy and faith... The medley has made me decide to get a CD-collection of Ted Gärdestad-songs.

But then... I can't help thinking... How does a guy who writes music like that carry around so much pain inside, that he eventually ends up committing suicide - and in a most violent way too. Where did he hide it? Was there really no help to give him? I think the world would have been a better place with more of his music in it...

After a week of glorious sunshine, it's turned cold and wet again. It's ice cold and frosted outside, everything looks like a glass left in the freezer too long. I think this is possibly my least favourite time of the year. Mostly because of this:



Isn't she a grotty, revolting mess? The snow is melting, leaving behind the sand and gravel mix they spread after they plow to help with grip in the ice. While it's a godsend on an icy day, it is awful when combined with slush to form huge mud tracks everywhere. Luckily, Lambi is so small I can just pop her in the sink and give her a bath. It must be really hard for those with big dogs.

I feel emotionally bruised this week. Not to mention stressed, rushed, busy, tired, ad infinito nauseum. I've been helping an expat here whose relationship has foundered and she is facing the heartbreaking task of packing up her whole life and head off into the unknown. Will she go home? Will she stay in Sweden and try to make a go of it on her own? It's been emotionally draining and very sad.

How do you handle other people's pain? Is there ever a time when it gets easier hearing that someone you care about, even if you don't know them well, is staggering under the weight of heartbreak? Or going through a major personal nightmare. I just feel so small. There should be compassion classes in high school or university where you can learn the right things to say and the right things to do. How to help others. How to make them feel better. How to stay out of the way. How to listen.

In this case, that compassion is mixed up with the thought that, but for some indefinable causality, grace of god, or maybe just incredible good effing luck, there go I. So even as I try to do what I can, which feels like nothing of course, I think, 'What if it were me going through this? What would I do?' Life can and does sometimes change in a second - you can snap your fingers and something's vanished.

In other "news" I had my hair cut short again, so I now look like this. No, I'm not in a bad mood, just utterly exhausted from helping with packing up Jen's stuff. I've also been helping an American expat here to buy a boat. Lars-Göran loves nothing better than playing with boats (not to mention spending other people's money!) so he's as happy as a pig in mud. This guy is a novice sailor who has a big plan to sail to the Mediterranean this autumn! It's quite an undertaking and we are doing our best to see he gets the best boat for the voyage that he can afford and that it is properly equipped.

This sign deserves a place here in my blog. I cracked up when I saw it. Translated into English, it reads "We have piss in the freezer - 30Kr (about $A6)" Of course, it was more than likely written by an immigrant and should read pizza rather than pissa. As you can imagine, I've emailed that shot to everyone I can think of here in Sweden.

Looking outside now, I see that the trees are budding, and some birds have returned to the region. That can mean only one thing: mere months remain until Nynäshamn residents will be seen in public with barely any clothes on.

Even though temperatures still register in the negative region of the thermometer, small buds have started appearing on the trees and bushes around the central part of the town. It was a veritable heatwave yesterday in Stockholm with the mercury hitting 10C. Jodee (an Australian friend) and I were marvelling at the sudden emergence of the barely clad person strolling down Götgatan at lunchtime. We were still wearing 5 layers of clothes as it was biting in the wind. And we laughed at the idea of us thinking how it had "warmed up" when it was 10C.

'Holy crap!' exclaimed Jodee. 'It's hard to believe that we'll get to have spring soon, after all this cold. I'll be happy not to have to have all these layers of clothes on when I go outside.'

Likewise, others will undoubtedly be happy to strip off and stride about mostly naked, once the thermometer rises past freezing. In recent years, more and more undergarments have made their debut in Sweden as outergarments, and this year, judging by the crowd in Söder yesterday, promises to be no exception.

A friend sent me this quote today: "Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming—WOW—What a Ride!" ~Anonymous

Words to live by, for sure.

We had such a nice day yesterday, but not what most people would consider a true Valentine's Day. I guess when you get older, nice is enough, huh? Lars-Göran is very much opposed to the Americanisation of Swedish culture. Apparently, this All Heart's Day has only been going on here for about the last decade, and is really pushed by the chocolate-makers and florists, of course. I have to agree with him really too. First of all, pushing a new holiday to sell stuff makes me sick. Secondly, I never did care for having one day a year when you're supposed to buy over-priced red roses ($50 and up a dozen, let's get real), for the most part pretty bad chocolates (a box of Red Roses Chocolates is NOT good chocolate in my book) and completely over-priced cards with somebody else's expressions of what passes for love and passion. If you can't show the person(s) you love that you love them in a lot of ways throughout the year, then screw doing it on the 14th of February.

We had a nice lay-in yesterday, surrounded by books and good coffee. The sun was shining and temperatures about 3 degrees above freezing, so we walked down to the bay to check out the ice skating.



This is the same bay where our boat is moored. As you can see, the ice is at least several centimeters thick. It's always funny to see the sea frozen over. You would think that the sea would freeze in ripples or be uneven, but it's quite clean and smooth.



I don't think these were locals as this is not a very long bay. If they were locals, they'd know to head further along Strandvägen to the bay we were in the other day, where you could skate for several kilometres. I'm far too chicken to stand on the ice, but Lars-Göran does it and in fact he has used the ice to his advantage, by standing on it to easily wash the hull of the boat.



Now there's a sight you'd never see at an Australian yacht club! There's something rather god-like about "walking on water".

While spring is certainly on the way, there is still a lot of snow lying around in places. For example, if you wanted to sit for a bit and enjoy the sunshine on a park bench, then you'd be out of luck!

I love the way the snow piles up like that. It is quite soft snow as the temperatures have risen and it's about to melt, but it still looks so wintery and pretty.

Here's a link that a found a while back and which is rather interesting: the Internet Archive Wayback Machine, which allows you to view old versions of a website.

I wonder how they do it though, do they keep a cache of every single available website?? They do have 11 billion pages in their archive...

And while browsing I came across this website. I swear I have nothing to do with it...

On a more serious note I saw a program on tv called Billiga människor. If anyone in Sweden wants to see a repeat of it, watch SVT2 on Sunday, February 29th at 2pm. It is a program worth seeing. It's about the many people living here in Sweden illegally and the plight they face as people without rights, without the possibility of improving their lives - and in the face of the Swedish authorities denial that they even exist. Sometimes I get cynical about this claim that Sweden makes about being "the world's conscience" when they can be so blind to what is going on in their own country.

Sweden has the least humane treatment of illegal immigrants in all of the EU. It is one of the few countries that denies school to the children of these people--who had no control over the forces that have put them where they are, and offer no health care.

I was saddened by the program. I long to feel totally at home somewhere and often find myself thinking of some other place or time wherever I am. Perhaps it's a curse of being an expat that I just have to learn to live with. But, I have citizenship of one of the richest and most democratic countries in the world and have a permit to live and work and receive health care and education and most benefits in another free and safe country. But these people aren't wanted anywhere. At best they get shuffled from a lengthy fruitless asylum-seeking in one country to asylum-seeking in another, at worst they get sent back to the nightmare they left back home. So they hide, do their best to be invisible.

At the end of the program they showed what has become of the people they interviewed. In one case of a man who was being deported the next day, the UN stepped in and saved him from being sent back to where he had overwhelming evidence that he had been tortured and could be tortured to death upon return. Swedish authorities are now retrying that case.

I get the feeling that one thing Swedes really pride themselves on is their humanity and focus on human rights. I don't want to belittle that, Swedes have been a strong force even for a small country. But I can't help but wonder if that humanity is extended only if humanity doesn't get too close?

It's been somewhat of a nostalgic week for me on Swedish tv. We normally don't get much in the way of Aussie television here, except for he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned-by-name (better known as moron). But this week, I've seen two Aussie shows. The first was a great interview with my hero Nick Cave. He spoke about his music, his influences and where he's going musically. He also read excerpts from his book And the Ass Saw the Angel. I've always enjoyed his dark, melodic style and it was a good chance for my rather bemused Swedish husband to get a glimpse of him. I'm not too sure that he found it at all re-assuring as Nick was at his acidic best - but I liked it!

The second show is a series called Kylie’s Kök (that's approximately pronounced "shurk" by the way and means "kitchen"). Not, it's NOT about Ms Minogue, but Kylie Kwong, a young Chinese-Australian chef from Sydney (billy kwong at Surry Hills). While she prepares scrumptious dishes using the very best Australian ingredients, it's not just another cooking show. Intertwined in the series is her story of life growing up as an Australian born Chinese girl. It's quite fascinating to see and I've really enjoyed it.

Today we saw something to make Lars-Göran smile:



Can't see it? No, it's not the glorious blue sky (though that's good too), it's not the sunshine (it may look warm, but it's still -7C).... Still can't see anything different about our building? Top right hand corner? Okay, let's take a closer look:



The icicles are melting! They are dripping down in the midday sun, which is a sign that spring is on the way. Lars-Göran is happy when the thaw arrives. It means that very soon the boat season will begin in earnest - and nothing makes him happier than long days of sunshine sailing in the archipelago. There is also the added benefit of no more posing for strange pictures in the snow. No more fending off sharks that leap through the frozen playground to attack Lambi:



(Well, that's our story and we're sticking to it!)

Today, little Bruce went for a fly around the apartment and landed on the coffee table where he had a snoop around for any stray crumbs or anything else that was vaguely edible. We were able to snap this close up view of him:



It's so nice to have them flying free in the apartment, even if they are eating it up at an alarming rate. We are going to take them with us on the boat, but I doubt they'll be let out of the cage as the entire interior of our boat is beautiful mahogony and I suspect that if they start snacking on that, then they may end up on the dinner plate.

I was saddened to read in Sue's latest blog about poor Buster and his broken leg. It's awful when pets get sick and we send Buster a big "Get Well" from Sweden. Now if you really want to help him get better, I think you should consider a sleeping arangement like the one afforded to our little friend, Molly.

Show the boys, Sue and see what they think! *grin*

This is fairly typical of how dogs are treated in Sweden. They really are seen as "man's best friend" and as such they have full run of everything.

I was reassured when I saw this picture of Molly. It meant that I wasn't the only insane person in this country, sharing a bed with a dog who wants to sleep IN the bed.

Till next time!

What a difference a day makes! After many grey, damp days of barely plus degrees and of wet, slushy snow, true glorious Nordic winter has descended again.

White snow against a brilliant blue sky is gorgeous, and one of the things I love about living here. As you can see the trees look like they have been sprayed with pavlova. And cold - wow, it's absolutely crisp and freezing, but so glorious.

Despite an icing sugar dusting of snow, we had winter sunshine today, high, stabbing and potent. Plastic stretched sky, so shiny and bright it looks unreal. A vibrant blue like a robin's egg, like a periwinkle, like the water against the pale blue painted sides of a swimming pool. There were no clouds, just a few wispy jet trails. And the snow sparkling as though someone has sprayed glitter everywhere. It is a day to be outside enjoying nature - well rugged up of course.

We decided to go for a really long walk along the coastline.

While heading through town, I spotted this "interesting" display in the window of our local shoe shop. What made me do a double take and go back for another longer look was that this is so uncharacteristic for a Swedish shop - usually their displays are tasteful and minimalist. But here was something that looked like one of those Paddington outfitters for the Gay & Lesbian Mardi-Gras!

Closer inspection showed that Fred Nile could sleep safely in his bed, it was only a Sko-Utställning - that is a display of artwork with the theme of "Magic Shoes". I guess it must be something from the local high school or art school, but I imagine that it would turn a few heads in town.

We then went via the harbour and along the coastline. There were so many people out walking it was incredible. People here are not afraid to go out and about. We have a particular road along the shoreline that was built for the 1912 Olympics when the yachting races were held here in Nynäshamn. It is most unusual in Sweden to get a "coast road" in the same way we are used to in Australia. I think it has a lot to do with the actual shape of the landscape. Where Australia has long relatively straight stretches of coastline, here there are a lot of very deep bays, so it is far easier and cheaper to build roads further back, with tracks going down to the seafront. Many people who visit Nynäshamn for the first time are absolutely amazed by Strandvägen as it offers a clear and beautiful view of the sea and the woods.

We brought coffee and tea with us and had a break at the boat club to enjoy the view in comfort, then headed out again. The main road follows about 4 kms along this area to Lövhagen then swings inland. It is absolutely beautiful here no matter which season you go along the road.

The map here shows you a little of what the area immediately around us is like. The orange area is the town itself. The dotted line is the railway line and we live fairly close to the place marked as gästhamn. Just below it, you can see a funny little ball shaped island (also orange) connected to the mainland. That is called "Triangle Island" and our boat club is inside the little sliver of a bay just below the island. This is called Fagerviken. Our normal summer place is the bay above the island, called Trehörningsviken.

Fellow AA members Nicole and Roland will recall that we had a rather boozy dinner aboard our boat facing the posh houses on the island. And the following day we went sailing all around the area - heading north, then going around Bedarön, weaving through the rocks in Inre and Yttre Gården, then heading into the bay just north of Norrbro and through Draget's Kanal and dropping anchor in the bay by Rösängen. Well, they will be absolutely surprised to see today's view of that area :



Yes, good people, that's the sea out there somewhere under all that ice and snow. And yes, they are piers you can see jutting out on the left hand side of the picture. The very same area we enjoy sailing around in summer, is ideal for ice-skating in winter. Nynäshamn is well known for long-distance skating and also for ice sailing. The world champion in this sport lives here in town. You can see he gets plenty of places to practice!

Something else we are well known for in Nynäshamn is the waterslide (vattenrutschbana). It is the longest one in Europe, extending 168 metres! But for some reason, it wasn't too crowded today.



I wonder why?

It's a mystery to me.

And the other place that was strangely deserted was the sea diving tower at Nicksta Camping Grounds.

It doesn't look as busy as the picture in their brochure, does it?



Of course, I would have had a go myself, but unfortunately, I left the bathers at home. Maybe next time!

I'll leave you with a fun time-waster that I got yesterday from Faye in Ludvika. As if we didn't have enough snow, she sent me a link to Make Your Own Snowflake! Just what I need.

Till next time!

It's back to the snow again today. For a couple of days we have had temperatures in the plus degrees, sunshine and blue skies. I heard people foolishly predicting that spring was here and rushing out to buy their pots of påskliljor. Hey, I could even go for a walk sans hat and gloves.

However, this is my fourth winter here and I know that it can (and often does) snow until the end of April, so I figured that mother nature was playing a cruel trick and just daring us to pack away those winter clothes, only to hit us with those polar winds again. And I was right!

And speaking of polar......

Now this isn't a sight you expect to see every day in your local supermarket, is it? Especially in Sweden where they are paranoid about making everything allergy safe. There are huge signs everywhere outside of this shop about not bringing in animals, not smoking, not wearing strong perfume etc and here they have an actual stuffed reindeer!

Yes, that's me dressed in my usual winter outfit, though carrying hat and gloves as it is too hot inside to keep them on. As you can see, Rudolf and I are having a bit of a chat, though as he's from Norrland, he isn't saying much :)

So why is he gracing our presence in Konsum, Nynäshamn, many many kilometers away from his habitat? At first I thought it was for some sick, perverted display of reindeer meat, as the sign behind me (Kött & Fläsk) is Swedish for Meat and Pork (funny, I thought pork WAS meat!). But no, it wasn't the Swedes being correct and literal as I had expected, but in fact it is a promotion for Polarbröd. And you can indeed see a pile of the bread nearby.

Yes, I bought 2 packets. Am I a marketer's dream or what?

And on the subject of breads, it is a wonderful time in Sweden, as it is semlor time! Yum, yum, yum! So who or what are semlor? Well, they are just the very best, most delicious bun you have ever eaten! Think kitchener bun, flavoured with cardamon and instead of raspberry jam and that fake cream stuff, they have a filling of almond paste topped with lashings of real, fresh whipped cream.

I'm helplessly addicted, so thank goodness they are only available during this time of the year. Traditionally they are supposed to be eaten on what we know as Shrove Tuesday (February 24th this year) and was a way to use up all of the eggs, cream and goodies before lent.

Of course, some of us are married to the old-fashioned types, who will tell you that semlor should ONLY be served on that day AND served in a bowl with warm milk (no way!), but we smart Aussies have realised that they taste just as good the 1st of January as they do in February, PLUS you can eat more of them in 6-8 weeks than in just a few days before Lent.

Semlor are taken very seriously here and every year, Aftonbladet tests them out to find the very best ones in town. And there are entire websites devoted to Semlor Guides.

Lars-Göran went out in the snow today to pick up some as I could hear them calling me. Needless to say, they looked absolutely wonderful and I could read the warning label that ought to have come with it: one thousand calories. Clog your veins. Have you thought about your cholesterol level?

I took a piece anyway. It's a treat that I almost never allow myself. So it's bad for me. It's just too good to worry about minor details like that.

I'm supposed to be studying for a test, but thanks to this excellent Time Waster: Ultimate Flash Face, I'm not getting much done.

Another great distraction also arrived today in the form of a package from Elsie, an AA member in Helsinki. She has been home to Oz for Christmas and she bought me a calendar of Australian Landscapes. Lars-Göran added a nail to the wall by my desk and now I am gazing at a pictures of The Chimneys, Mt Moffat, Carnarvon National Park, Queensland. It is absolutely beautiful - those sandstone cliffs, gum trees, brilliant blue sky... I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Of course, Elsie just HAD to send it in a Nokia bag! As this is an Ericsson town, I imagine my name will now be in a little black book somewhere. I am always taken aback by how generous and thoughful people can be. Elsie and I don't know each other apart from what reading each other's posts on the message board, but still she thought of me when she was home. Thankyou!

My dear man had a funny experience yesterday at Försäkringskassan. This place is usually quite busy, but he needed to renew something, so he went there and to his astonishment, there were two clerks free and no other customers. Hardly trusting his good luck, he went to the desk and asked about the renewal. They responded with "Take a queue number". wtf? He looked behind him at the empty room, then back questioningly at the clerk. "Really?" he asked ironically. Now most Swedes wouldn't recognise irony if it jumped up and humped their leg, and this was no exception. She merely repeated the instruction. When he had his queue number in hand, they pressed the magic button, his number was displayed and hey presto they could seve him. Is everyone in this country mad?

But the real purpose of this post is to display some pictures taken after his weekend sailing. Yes, you read right - sailing in winter. Is he mad? Well, you decide.

Now usually in winter, we are surrounded by fast ice like you see here:



Yes, that is the sea, but then the Baltic is actually not very salty and in this bay where the boat stays over winter there is not much tide movement. However, this year it has been milder, so we only get this:



It's kind of cute - like floating dancefloor for the ducks. Well, on the weekend, the temptation to take her out for a spin was too much, so we set off:



Yes, I know it's slightly icey on deck, but isn't it glorious to be out there and free from land. The archipelago takes on quite a different character in the winter months.

So first, it was a glide past the main fishing harbour:



The art exhibition we went to on Saturday is in the restaurant to the left of the Fiskhäll, the Rökeri has the most beautiful array of fresh and smoked fish plus a gourmet section and the church on the hill, simply known as Nynäshamns Kyrka is the church we were married in. This place really feels like home to me.

Next past the island of Bedarö (across from the harbour):



There is still a lot of snow around, but luckily the sea has not frozen this year. This island community rely on boats to cross to the mainland for supplies. People live here all year round.



It is so beautiful out there. And in winter it is deathly quiet as there are no sea birds around. Just the sound of the wind and the waves lapping around the shore. And yes, you must watch out for floating ice as well, though not really of titanic proportions :)

Well, this sort of ice is called a growler they can damage the hull if hit at high speed. But there was no danger here. Only silly people calling "Iceberg off the starboard bow, Capt'n". And that charming view is the refinery which is kept hidden away from the tourists around in an isolated bay. Lovely, isn't it?

Of course, this isn't the first time we've been out in a sailing boat in Swedish winter. In 2002, we went out for a week. That was a wonderful trip and we enjoyed the peace and solitude of being away. I think time becomes irrelevant when you are out on the water. It's a whole new world.

Now off to revise some more and get ready for class this evening. I'm looking outside and it's still light at 3.30pm which shows me that the darkness has left for another year and we are on our way towards spring and the long awaited summer. Do I read this properly? I'm dreaming of summer? I HAVE been here too long!

Till next time

Today it's great weather - for ducks! Or maybe not even for them, if this picture taken at lunchtime by the fishing pier is anything to go on:



After several days of lovely soft, powdery, fluffy snow and just when it was looking so pure and white, the temperature rose to 0C and it rained instead. The horrible sleet and ice that turned our lovely white billows into slushy quagmires.



Lars-Göran took the above picture a couple of days ago. This old farmhouse is on the road to the boat club and yes, in the middle of town. You would swear that you were deep in the country if you look at it. He says it reminds him a lot of his childhood visits to his grandfather's farm in Vasa, Finland. He often stops to look at the house and remember those times. There is a lot about this area that reminds him of Finland.

Today we went to an art exhibition opening here in Nynäshamn. What made this very special was that the artist is also Australian and living right here in town! Boy was he surprised to meet me. :)

I read about the exhibition in the paper and was really delighted that there was another Aussie in town. Somehow it felt less isolating, even though I'd never met him. I had however bought these two postcards pictured here from our local tourist shop. I recognised the aboriginal style dot painting technique immediately and was surprised to see it on Swedish animals. When I asked about the artist, I was told he was an Australian who lived right here.

Well, we went to the opening at Kroken down at the fishing harbour (and right past those ducks!). I introduced myself to the artist and we chatted away for a while. His name is John Dullaway and he comes from a little place called Wondabyne, on the banks of the Hawksbury River north of Sydney.

He has been in Sweden 16 years! And I can tell you that he has lost none of his Aussie accent. You would have sworn that he stepped off the plane yesterday. We talked about his artwork, the inspiration that he found in Australian aboriginal carvings he saw around the area he grew up and how he continues this theme in his work here in Sweden. Most of his work is Australian motifs, though we had a giggle together about the moose one. He doesn't like it and generally finds more connection with Australian fauna.

He was delightful, chatty, friendly and we swapped contact details and will get together again - and certainly for summer sailing. He may not have known me, but he knew our boat. With her name emblazoned on the side and so much long-distance sailing equipment, she's a bit hard to miss!

As you can see, the opening was well attended.



This was Lars-Göran's first look at this style of art and he was duly impressed. He was quite taken with a large peacock painting and absolutely speechless when he took a closer look and saw it was made up of millions of dots! He's never seen anything like it before. The ones I liked were one of a crocodile and one of some water birds. Lars-Göran liked the one of the lacy monitor lizard. But we both agreed that the piece that was stunning was a wonderful painting in black, red and white of a beautiful sea slug known as a Spanish Dancer. Words cannot convey how impressed I was by the three dimensional effect and the degree of life and movement he captured in that work. From eavesdropping on the conversations around us, I learned that many others shared this admiration as well.

There was food and drink - our own locally brewed Bedarö Bitter and Landsort Lager from Nynäshamns ångbryggeri. And we were entertained as well by some didgeridoo playing by Jan Sak. It brought a tear to my eye to hear the piece "Sunrise" with those evocative calls of the currawong, magpie and kookaburra. What I found amazing too was looking at him playing this instrument with the snow and sleet pelting down in the window behind him. It somehow seemed quite bizarre.

I also chatted to a couple of teachers from our local adult education centre. They were also surprised that another Australian would choose to leave those sunny shores to live in the land of the long grey cloud. I had trouble keeping a straight face when one of them told me his name was Odd. I got a mental picture of him introducing himself in Australia with "Hello, I'm Odd" and nearly burst out laughing.

He was intrigued by the Aussie spectacle of the Todd River Henley-On-Todd regatta and asked how we manage to dream up things like that. Here in Sweden, if there was no water, the even would be held somewhere else where there WAS water. It would never occur to them to modify the boats and do without the water. As I told him, I think we are genetically wired for silliness at birth.

We stayed a couple of hours and then headed for home. After all, you can see who was anxiously waiting for us! Lambi cracks me up at times. We live half a flight up from street level and so it is a perfect height for her to sit on her basket at the kitchen table and check out what is going on around town. After all, she's as nosy as I am!

I love the expression on her face. That "And what time do you call this?" look that we are so familiar with from teenage days when we tried to push that midnight curfew, only to find mum waiting up in her embarrassing pink chenile dressing gown and curlers in her hair! Lambi at least spares us the sartorial humiliation.

And in my quest for the quirky, have any of you read The Sneeze yet? I hadn't, until today, and I didn't know what I was missing until I did. Of particular note, mostly because I laughed until I got stomach cramps, were the Steve, Don't Eat It columns: here and here. And I would like to state now that if I am ever served these that I will puke pre-emptively.

And so I don't end on that note (are you back from the bathroom, yet, Sue?) I'll also tell you about a great panorama blog I found. It is by an Aussie, Peter Murphy. He takes really interesting 360 degree shots of some wonderful places around Australia. I just never get sick of looking at pictures of Australia. So if you want to look at something different, check out Panoramic VR Weblog. There is so much energy in these shots - I loved the pelicans being fed at the Sydney Fish Markets and also the day at the races. Really impressive panoramas.

Till next time!