Yesterday lunchtime, we collected Evy and one of her friends and took them to the beautiful art gallery at Waldermarsudde on Djurgården to see an exhibition by the renowned 19th century Swedish-Finnish artist Albert Edelfelt. I have loved his work since I first saw them at the art gallery in Göteborg - in particular a magnificent painting of a girl and her father out on a small fishing boat (called "På Havet" or "On the Ocean", but I couldn't find a copy of it on the net). Lars-Göran's family come from the Österbotten region and as this was the area that Edelfelt recorded, I was sure it was an outing that Evy would enjoy.

Waldermarsudde was the home of Sweden's painter Prince Eugen (1865-1947) and he left it to the state, with the proviso that it be used to display his huge collection of Nordic art (including over a hundred paintings by Prince Eugen himself). It is beautifully situated on the waterway leading into town and is worth visiting on a sunny day just for the gardens and wonderful views across the water.



We have sailed past this spot several times on our way into Lake Mälaren as the waterway leads directly into the lock at Hammarby, separating the salty Baltic from the freshwater Mälaren.

Today, we were looking at it all from land. It was another sunny, crisp spring day as we made our way at snail's pace along Strandvägen to the island. Because we have a handicapped parking permit on the car, we were able to park in a sunny spot right by the door so it makes it easy to get Evy out of the car. The car is fitted with an electric lifting device, so we can lift her out of the front seat in a special harness and lower her into her wheelchair. Then it was off to the museum.

The lower level housed the Edelfelt exhibition. He had spent some time in Paris, so there were paintings from that period, many fine portraits of famous people like Louis Pasteur, several street scenes and family portraits.

The room I particularly loved was that containing his works from Finland. Works like I have here - the boys playing on the beach, summer scenes, views of the archipelago, of Helsinki and poignant portraits of the people who lived here. This was another of my favourites - "A Child's Funeral":



Apparently, this was commissioned by a collector in the U.S. It depicts these simple fishing folk, taking the coffin of a baby by boat to the church for burial. It is a very large painting, with such fantastic expressions on the faces of those grieving that I felt really sad standing there - as though I was intruding on their sorrow. It is very moving. However, the collector thought that the painting was too depressing, so the painter made another one (also exhibited nearby) with the coffin replaced by a big pot of flowers, the people dressed in cheerful colours and the mother holding her baby. This version was called "A Child's Christening" and the differences are quite striking.

Among the others, I also felt immense sadness looking at one painting of a girl, her young child and an older man who were hiding behind a snowy rock, clutching a few meagre possessions while in the distance we see soldiers burning down their village. This was part of a war in that region (Kubbekriget) that took place in the winter of 1596-97.

Another one I liked was this one of a group of women dressed in typical costumes of the later nineteenth century waiting and chatting at a summer festival in Österbotten.



We then went on a tour around the rest of the four floors. It was well serviced with a small lift that Lars-Göran an Evy used to get from floor to floor, while I took the red carpeted staircases with Evy's friend, feeling very regal. The main rooms on the next level were beautifully furnished (especially the "Blue Room") and offered breathtaking views over the city across the water. Everything glittered and shone in the afternoon sunlight. We all agreed that it was a perfect day for such an outing.

On the top floor, there was another exhibition called Three Sisters. The paintings were by three feminist artists - Swedish born Lena Cronqvist (born 1938), Finnish artist Outi Heiskanen (born 1937) och the Russian Irina Zatulovskaya (born 1954). I quite liked Zatulovskaya's paintings, but the other two left me cold. And I could tell that Evy was fonder of the art downstairs, so we only did a perfunctory tour of these upper floors.

Lovely afternoon and a beautiful setting. If you are in Stockholm, go along and take a look. The exhibition will be on until mid August.

There has been a Sunday evening television program on the state channel for the last few weeks all about the Sixties. It's been interesting and fun to listen to the blasts from the past and to both relive and cringe at some of the music and fashions of that time. During one of the programs, the Elvis hit Blue Suede Shoes was mentioned and Lars-Göran confessed to me that because he had heard that the french word for Sweden was Suède, he always thought that the song was about blue Swedish shoes and had puzzled over what they could possibly be, having never seen anything remotely like them over here. I laughed heartily and asked him when he finally realised that in fact the song referred to "suede" which is a type of fabric (called mocka in Swedish). He was quiet for a few seconds and then sheepishly said "Well, it was last year when you pointed out some suede boots in the window of a shoe shop in town". Hmmm.... forty years is rather a long time to be labouring under that misapprehension!

I saw my first sign of summer over the weekend. That's right - summer. No, it wasn't anything like seeing the return of the grey geese or chaffinch (how embarrasing - I couldn't remember what they were called in English and just had to look up bofink in my dictionary!). It wasn't even spotting the first coltsfoot (tussilago) in the woods. It was in fact the sight of a rather well-endowed teenage girl dressed in a strappy, tight fitting singlet top. I know the sky was blue and the sun was shining, but it was still barely 10C! Now all I need to see is someone in tight white leggings with a black g-string on underneath it and I'll know it's time for the annual wall of shame that is Swedish summer fashions. *shudder*

To all my friends in Australia, Sweden and all over the world, I wish you a



Wherever you are and however you choose to celebrate it, enjoy your day and keep safe.

Today we decided to take a small road trip around to the next island chain and see how the spring thaw was coming along. We already have crocus and snowdrops sprouting in the front garden, the snow has all but gone and we wondered if the same was true all over the area. So after breakfast, I packed a thermos of coffee, some biscuits and a few goodies for the dog and we headed off to Torö. It was not far to go as you can see on this map.



The island of Torö is to the south west of Nynäshamn, passing through two other smaller islands (Oxnö and Svärdsö) and is the southernmost part of Stockholm County. It offers a view across the bay to the famous lighthouse of Landsort on the island of Öja (literally Land's End). We love the lighthouse - it is always a welcome sight to us after a long voyage home and these waters are ones we are very familiar with from summer sailing. As we passed through here by boat, we thought that when we had a chance we'd try and see it from the land side as well. In addition, I've been reading through a history of lighthouses in Sweden, including Landsort and the historical importance of the surrounding area in Anders Hedin's lovely book Lysande skärgård and it was great to see some of the places he talked about.

Our first stop for a brief look was when we spotted an area in the ice just as we entered Oxnö where the water was flowing freely.



See how striking it looks. The whole area is frozen except for that channel. Upon further investigation, we discovered that there were pipes beneath the surface pumping water and keeping it circulating so it would not freeze. This was because the only access to the tiny island of Malhuvud a couple of hundred metres away is by a small manual punt or ferry. Yes, the island is inhabited and also has a hereford cattle stud, so access is very important.

Looking out to our right across Fållnäsviken we saw that the waters were still frozen over, with the rocks that we try to avoid clearly visible for a change.



Beyond the shallower waters of the bays, the water is subject to more currents and has melted, though it can still be difficult to tell where the land ends and the water begins. In the sunshine, the ice looks very porous so is more than likely unsafe to walk out on. But what a magnificent view and we were envious of people who can wake up to this every morning. It was so quiet, peaceful and calming. We are pretty sure that the house right out on the edge of the peninsula has our name written on it.



We then drove down along the main road through the island. While this area has been inhabited since the ninth century, very little in the way of historical sights remain, mostly because the Russians, under the command of Peter the Great swept through here in 1719 burning everything in sight. The two churches were destroyed (though one had been rebuilt) and almost everything else dates from the mid nineteenth century onwards. The end of the road brought us to Ankarudden, where we gazed across the glittering water towards Krokskär.



Again, you could almost believe that it was a summer day except for the snow on the rocks. This seemed like a perfect place for fika, so we had some warm drink and food and relaxed in the warm sunshine admiring the summer houses that dotted the shoreline near the harbour area. This is normally a busy fishing harbour as well as the place where the passenger ferry takes people and goods across to Öja, so it was a treat to sit here alone and enjoy the quiet.



Landsort and the port of Ankarudden were at the cross-roads of many fairways on the Baltic: from the north and the south of Sweden, from Stockholm and the towns in Lake Mälaren and from neighbouring countries in the Baltic, being the southern gateway to the Stockholm archipelago. There is one manor house on Torö called Herrhamra, built in the 1850's. I particularly love the avenue of elms that mark the old entrance to the property.



Stark and leafless now, it is hard to imagine them in summer with their leafy canopy reaching across the road to provide a shady archway. It always reminds me of the entrances to stately homes in England or the beautiful Victoria Avenue at Unley Park (though they are an avenue of plane trees).

Our final stop was on a tiny peninsula on Ängsholmen (meadow island) where we admired the waterways and the location of the homes and even farms that lined the shores and bays.



Unsurprisingly, there is no sign of the animals outside, though in summer we did see cattle on the shore when we passed by. I guess they are inside the warm barns until the grass reappears. Still, if it's location you are looking for, then this place on the shores of the archipelago with spectacular views of the water just can't be beaten.

The Swedish term for what we call Good Friday is Långfredag, or "long Friday". Neither term seems especially appropriate when you think about the origin of the day, but the Swedish one seems a little more solemn than ours. There is an explanation of how it came to be called Good Friday here.

In Australia, it is a public holiday and the day that hot cross buns are traditionally eaten. Special afternoon prayer services are often held with readings from the Gospel accounts of the events leading up to the crucifixion. Meat is not normally eaten today and time is spent visiting the graveyards of family members. Most shops are shut and there is an air of quiet mourning that is fitting for the day.

In Sweden, it is also a public holiday. But as this is a far more secular country, many shops remain open, people go away skiing and there is very little to seperate it from most other days. As we passed the big IKEA shop at Kungens Kurva, there was a queue of people waiting to get into the car park, which I thought was rather sad.

We spent the day with Lars-Göran's mother in Huddinge. It was another beautiful spring day and as we left Nynäshamn, we saw a lone fisherman standing on the rocks just off Strandvägen, trying his luck - perhaps to catch his dinner.



Except for the tell tale signs of ice around the rocks, you could almost believe that it was a summer's day. Look at the water glitter in the sun! It made us both long to set sail again and reach out for that horizon.

When we arrived at Huddinge, we took Evy (my mother-in-law) out to the cemetery to visit her husband's grave. I never knew Lars-Göran's father, Edvin, who died a few months before I moved here but everyone assures me that we would have really liked one another. It is almost five years now since he died and it still feels very fresh in Evy's mind, especially as he was her constant companion and caretaker twenty four hours a day since she had the accident that put her in a wheelchair twenty five years ago. I know that she feels his absence deeply.

While it was a sunny day, the cemetary itself at Botkyrka kyrkogård was still ankle deep in snow. Mother was really surprised as most of the snow has melted in her area and we decided that it was still far too soon to plant out the punnets of pansies we had bought with us. We'll come back and do that next week if the warm weather continues.

While we were there, we saw a group of gravestones that were much smaller than the others, so I went and had a look. I wish I hadn't as they were the graves of small children, ranging in ages from newborns to about 5 years old. It was so sad to stand there and think of death coming so soon to these tiny children and the poor parents who faced the heartbreak of burying them.

On the way home to her apartment, we passed a small kiosk, decorated with easter feathers.



I don't know about you, but the only thing I think of is completely tasteless. Maybe you have to grow up with it, but I never think to celebrate Easter by draping trees with feathers dyed fluorescent shades. Imagine how long it took to do that? It just seems bizarre to me as do the people who decorate their homes with these same feathers mounted on birch twigs. I think I prefer the dyed eggs and daffodils myself.

Back at Evy's home, I prepared a dinner of spicy fish, rice and salad, while Lars-Göran did some odd jobs under her supervision - things like repairing wardrobes, changing light bulbs, fixing curtains, hanging paintings. It was all a bit much for Lambi, so she happily slept with granny.



For dessert, I had a Finnish Easter speciality called Memma. Lars-Göran's family are Swedish speakers from Vasa in Finland, so I find that their traditions are often a blend of the two cultures. While I am not especially fond of this dish myself, I know that it is one of Evy's favourites, sprinkled with sugar and served with lashings of rich, whipped cream. You make memma like this:

Ingredients:
2 litres water
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/4 cups malt
2 tbsp. grated Seville orange rind
3 1/2 cups rye flour
1/2 cup syrup

Directions:

Heat the water to about 60C. Mix ¼ of the malt and some rye flour in the water. Cover the surface with a thick layer of the rest of the malt and rye flour. Cover the saucepan and cook over a low heat for about three hours (note it should only simmer, never boil). Then bring to the boil and allow to boil for 5-10 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the syrup, orange peel and salt. Continue to beat the mixture until it is cooled off. Then, spoon the memma into a low, square cardboard box and are bake at 175C for about 3 hours until it is dark brown.

It is thick, sweet and tastes like nothing I can really describe.



Still, Evy enjoys it and that is the most important thing. We spent the evening with her, enjoying her company and watching a favourite film before heading home at nearly midnight through the stunning full moon shining over the snow creating a blue, eerie but very peaceful light.

Today, on a crisp, achingly sunny day we attended a service to say farewell to one of our friends here, Per or as he was fondly known around the town, Danskan ("the Dane"). Per died a month ago in the sailing boat he was painstakingly building to take him on a voyage of discovery to warmer, southern lands. It feels sad that he will never realise that dream but it was heartening to see how much he will be missed by those who knew him.



Lars-Göran knew him first through the boat club when we moved here four years ago. He spoke to him casually and I was on nodding terms with him. We knew he was building a boat and he was always interested in new ideas and to talk about his project. I remained on nodding terms with him until about two years ago. I happened to be in the supermarket and found myself behind him in the queue at the checkout, where we said hello. When it was time for him to pay for his few groceries, he wanted to use a bonus cheque as part payment (it is a customer loyalty scheme run by this particular chain, where after buying goods to a certain amount, you get a bonus cheque to be spent in their shop). However, he did not have his membership card on him at the time, so the cashier refused the cheque. He fished around in his pockets, but was still a few dollars short, so I paid the difference, despite his protests. It was only a couple of dollars - hardly worth making a fuss over. I told him not to worry about it, but if he wanted to reimburse us, he would see Lars-Göran nearly every day at the club.

That seemed to have broken the ice between us and from then onwards, he always warmly greeted me and we talked quite a lot. He was originally from the Jylland region of Denmark, but had lived most of his adult life in Sweden, working on merchant ships and travelling the world. On his retirement, he decided to build a boat and sail to Spain to live. He was a warm, intelligent, hardworking and dedicated man with a ready smile for friends. In addition to his native Danish, he spoke fluent Swedish, English and Spanish and we had conversations about almost all subjects.

I remember when Australian-born Mary Donaldson became Crown Princess of Denmark upon her marriage to the Danish Crown Prince Frederik on May 14, 2004, Per was very excited and when I saw him in town, he hurried up to me beaming happily and declaring that "we are practically related now". I still smile when I think of him on that day.

So this morning, with the skies brilliant blue and cloudless, we made our way to the simple, but beautiful chapel in the Nynäshamn cemetery.




There is still a little snow lying around and the trees are bare which added to the bleakness of the day. It is unusual for me to attend a funeral so long after a death. In Australia, the custom is to bury fairly quickly - usually within a few days to a week. But here, it is always at least a month and in some cases many months between the death and final burial.

The service was simple and very moving, attended by family and friends. We first assembled in the meeting room across from the chapel, then the priest came and we followed him into the church. There were prayers, hymns and the priest spoke about Per's life. Then we were invited to come up to the coffin individually, to place on it a single flower we had brought with us and to say our own quiet goodbye. The most traditional flower for this in Sweden is a single red rose. This is also something very strange for me. We associate a red rose as gift one gives their lover, not as a flower for funerals. The most common flowers in Australia for such occasions are lilies (especially the arum and easter varieties) and the chrysanthemum (usually white). Once this was done, we all filed out of the church into the sunshine and offered condolences to his family. As we stepped out, a flock of seagulls flew overhead, gliding effortlessly on the thermal currents, piercing the silence with their cries. I can't help but think that Per would have approved of this.

This is from the classic Jethro Tull song, Pussy Willow. As a much-beloved harbinger of spring, they have long delighted me when they appear. One of my earliest and fondest memories is of the huge pussy willow in my grandmother's front garden at Erindale. There it stood - a majestic tree than gran always called a "French" willow, which bore the most incredibly large, cottony shoots far bigger than any I had seen before. I watched them sprout every spring and always loved to stroke them. So seeing this tree bloom at Svandammen was a real treat.



Trust me - these are not snow covered branches, but real pussy willow (sälg) sprouting. It must be spring! The days are noticably warmer and the ice is beginning to melt. It is bright and sunny and you can feel the buzz in the air as you walk around. Friends in the Netherlands and Germany are already planting out their gardens and watching the bulbs appear and the shops here are gearing up for the frenzy of planting that will begin as soon as the ground has thawed. My friend Carolyn in Örebro has been ordering up a storm (her love is the perlagonium and she has a stunning collection of them) and I have been watching the garden to see all the changes unfolding. So far, it's still just snow.



The building bug has also started. People are dusting off the deck chairs, repairing outdoor furniture so that everything will be ready for summer. While down at the harbour, a delivery truck for a local hardware shop pulled up and began loading timber and plywood onto the small pier. This pier is often used by the inhabitants of the small island of Bedarön, just across the bay from Nynäshamn when they need to come across for shopping. But the water is still iced over, albeit rapidly thinning ice. Imagine how surprised I was to see this guy drive across on his moped with a trailer attached.



I know it might look solid enough just here, but slightly further out towards Bedarön and just to the left of this picture, the ice is breaking up and looks more like this:



I think he was taking a real risk by driving across during a thaw with no life jacket or any kind of safety gear. I think a boat would have been safer, with a piece of timber or metal to break up the ice. Still, he seemed happy enough as he loaded up his supplies and then turned around to make the 500 metre journey back across Gårdsfjärden.



Yes, he made it safely, but imagine if he has gone through the ice. It is around 8 metres deep and I think it would have gone straight to the bottom. Still, it was something you don't see every day.

Soon after, the tugboat St Olof came in from the north, breaking up a lot of the ice and carving a pathway over the bay. Soon the bay will be completely clear and it will feel like it's time to launch the boat.



We have a busy few days ahead, with the 30th birthday of Lars-Göran's eldest son (we have got him something really special), a funeral to attend and Easter to spend with my mother-in-law. The forecast is for spring like weather, so I hope we find time to get more done on Fiona so she can be launched in April. So keep up the clear, crisp mornings, the sunny afternoons and pray that we've seen the last of the snow.

Today, night and day are in perfect balance. It is only twice a year that day and night become equal in length. From now until the summer solstice, the daylight hours will be increasingly longer than the night.

So at last, it is the Vernal Equinox (March 20th 12:33). The Council of Nice (Nicaea) decreed in 325 AD that “Easter was to fall upon the first Sunday after the first full moon on or after the Vernal Equinox”, so that is why we are to have an early easter this year.

While the snow is still lying around and ice covers most of the ground, there are sure signs that spring is here. The first cranes have returned to Lake Hornborga in western Sweden and the first new potatoes have gone on sale in Helsingborg (for the ridiculous price of 500kr a kilo).

We spent the weekend at the southern Stockholm suburb of Tyresö with Bosse and Ann. It was a relaxing time filled with talking, laughing, good food, wine, more talking and laughing - in other words a perfect time for all of us. We first went to their boat club to see where Tintomara II lives (I can't possibly say "the boat" when Boose and Lars-Göran are around, I have to refer to them by name). Ann had prepared tea, coffee and cake to share and we sat outside in the sunshine to enjoy it.



Lambi did her very best impersonation of the poor, small, vulnerable, starving totally neglected dog and Ann responded to it by scooping her up and snuggling her inside her jacket, wrapping her scarf around her to keep her warm and cosy. What a con artist! She wanted to be near Ann only because Ann was closest to the food.



I like the smug look Lambi has on her face. Then the boys went off to study the work in progress on Bosse's boat, while Ann, Lambi and I chose the sensible option of warmth and comfort of the club house. After an hour or so, we roused them from their study of pipes, screws and pieces of wood and went around to see the nearby palace and church. It was a glorious, sunny day and the church looked beautiful through the trees.



The curch, constructed of bricks was built along with the palace from 1638-1640 by the wealthy and influential Gabriel Oxenstierna as a family chapel and burial place for the family. It is one of the most popular places in Stockholm for weddings because of its beautiful setting in the gardens and also the proximity to the palace (now used as a museum and a venue for weddings and conferences).



Bosse and Ann told us that the palace has its own guest pier plus a lovely and reasonably priced café that is very popular in the summer. We have decided that we must sail past and visit there sometime this summer. We like to try new places and are always looking for something a little different to do. The area around Tyresö is one we haven't explored before as we spend more time in the outer archipelago.

After our small guided tour, we went to their home, situated not far from centrum in a beautiful, natural environment. I really like the way the Swedes organise their suburbs into little communities dotted here and there with a lot of the forests left intact. It is as though they are trying to make as little impact as possible which is so much nicer than miles and miles of houses without a break that characterises the Australian suburban sprawl. This is the view out of their living room, overlooking the back garden



Isn't it beautiful? Apparently on summer evenings, one can sit on the deck and listen to the sounds of the hundreds of birds in the trees and feel nothing but peace and relaxation. I can well believe it.

We had a delicious dinner and chatted with them and their two children. At age 19 and 21 the kids were articulate and very open and friendly which surprised me a bit as often children are reluctant to talk to their parent's "boring old fart friends". We all discussed summer plans and various observations about Sweden and Australia while sipping wine and eating until we couldn't move. Their home was warm and inviting and we had to laugh when we saw the entrance hall. It had an area that would normally hold a mirror or a selection of family portraits, with a table underneath. But instead of a mirror, there was this enormous framed photograph of their boat. The table had a candlearbra and the effect was not unlike an altar to the boat.

Something I'm sure Lars-Göran would also do if he got half a chance. Which he won't!

St Patrick's Day in Sweden is a very low key affair. There is nobody around today wearing a sprig of green, no St Paddy's parades or people drinking green Guiness in the pubs (except maybe the Irish pubs). The expat community and English speaking clubs hold quite low key functions, but apart from that it is ignored here. I feel the urge to go around and pinch everybody I see NOT wearing green today, but as that would be almost everybody, I think I'll pass on that one.

I've been absolutely flat out like the proverbial lizard with things to do, some of it work and some of it pleasure. We also have a hectic weekend coming up with dinner and an overnight stay with our friends Bosse and Anne and then a 30th birthday party for Lars-Göran's eldest son on Sunday. I think I'll need next week to recover.

This week a friend also sent me the first 110 pages of his manuscript for the book he is writing and I've been busy in the evenings reading and editing the text. It's such a fascinating read that I've been up late several nights with it. I won't give anything away at this stage, but will let you know how it all goes if and when he secures a publisher for it.

I have made a number of quite good online friends here in Sweden. Many of them are also expats who have left their homeland and follwed their hearts to Sweden. It's taken a time of carefully sifting to extract the core of witty, intelligent and supportive ones I want to interact with and we all have a great time communicating with one another. I really have come to appreciate this small group of wonderful friends that I've built up over the past couple of years. In a discussion about an unrelated topic, one girl from Florida mentioned a longing for cornbread muffins. I said I'd never heard of them and within two days, a terrific woman from Wisconsin, who now lives over the other side of the country in Dals Ed sent me a packet of the muffin mix to try. So I baked them the same day.



They smelled delicious, so we tried them straight from the oven, still lovely and warm. I figured they would be not unlike a corn based scone and then decided that there was almost nothing that couldn't be improved by the addition of Vegemite, so I added a dollop of the black gold



I'm sure by now that Sandy (no, not the one in Melbourne) is having kittens by now as there does seem to be some kind of misunderstanding about how wonderful Vegemite is, with several people comparing it to eating ass. Which only makes me wonder how they'd know....

Anyway, just to rub it in, especially to Liz in Flyinge who bandies about words like "travesty" when I mention corn bread and Vegemite in the same sentence, I offer you an evil grin.



And I'm rather excited about getting myself a Mock for my mobile phone. Don't laugh. Phones have feelings too and they get very cold in my coat pocket waiting on the railway platform. For the train that is always late. Or cancelled. Or diverted because of ice. But we better not start on that little story.

I think the range of designs is great, though my heart is set on the one pictured here, though there were a couple that I liked. I had to have it as soon as I saw it. And luckily Kate from Australians Abroad has come onboard and is negotiating shipping them overseas through a Melbourne based supplier. The friend in Sydney who told me about them thinks they are cheesy, but I really love the idea and it will be great to have that reminder of the flag every time I get a call.

So you all have to ring me so I have an excuse to show off my mock when it arrives. Now I really must go and get organised for tomorrow's fika in Stockholm and scan the bottle shop site to select some Australian wine for the weekend. Cold weather....hmmm...a nice red wine I think.

Although I shouldn't be surprised (after all, it is still technically winter until after the spring equinox), I am nevertheless more than slightly dismayed that I continue looking out onto a christmas card scene when it it almost Easter. A friend in Adelaide asked me if I actually ever get sick of the snow. I told her that I still have a childish, somewhat romantic fascination with snow, but it has an expiry date each year, right about (looks quickly at her watch) NOW! It's March, already. I need regular sunshine, warmth, to be able to go outside with less than six layers of clothes on and to actually SEE the footpath.

But that won't be happening anytime soon according to the forecasters.

Still, while it is rather comical to be placing pots of daffodils in the windowsill when it's resembling the north pole out there, other signs that Easter is soon upon us abound. Signs like these:



Yes, I know there is not a sign of a witch anywhere in the Easter traditions in Australia, so I was rather bemused myself when I first arrived. There were no stacks of chocolate eggs, chocolate bunnies, hot cross buns etc, but there were a lot of birch twigs with dyed feathers attached and witches everywhere. Apparently, it was thought that witches were particularly active at this time of year, culminating in them all flying off to Blåkulla for a meeting. Every year, children dress as "easter witches" and on Skärtorsdag (Maundy Thursday), they go from house to house carrying small baskets or copper kettles, giving out small handmade Easter cards. In return, we give them some lollies. I think it's rather sweet. They are dressed more like the witch you see in the picture, rather than the Halloween type of stereotyped witch.

As it is approaching spring, the other themes are based around new life with chicks featuring quite a lot. I really liked this simple display in one of our local shops:



I think the chickens look so plump and friendly and there is a lovely simplicity about the display that seems a little more fitting than the gaudy array of coloured foil eggs I'm used to seeing. No children, there are NO chocolate eggs here, unless you order them from places like The English Shop. My eyes, however were immediately drawn to this little mouse in her gorgeous orange outfit.



I really, really covet her and have been dropping not so subtle hints about it to my largely clueless husband. I'm hoping for a nice "surprise" on Easter Sunday, though I suspect the only way Molly (see, she already has a name!) is going to join our family is if I go there and buy her myself. But we'll see if he takes a hint or not.

With the days at least being lighter, we've been able to get out on some longer walks, which has been really good for Lars-Göran as he was sick in bed with a nasty flu last week. With blue skies and a few fluffy clouds, even Princess Lambi decided to make an effort to walk herself.



See how crazy it is? You have to wear six layers, scarves, hats, gloves AND sunnies! What a contradiction. Still, I did enjoy feeling that warmth on my face and if you found just the right spot, out of the wind, you could close your eyes, turn your face towards the sun and really believe the spring was here.

Then it was off to the main fishing pier to feed the ducks who stay all winter rather than fly south to somewhere warmer. I feel so sorry for them, though I think they are pretty well looked after by the people here in Nynäshamn.



You can't see her in this picture, but just outside of camera range is my desperate dog whining and begging for food and looking at me with eyes full of hurt because I'm dispensing food to other animals apart from here. I actually had to give her several crusts to shut her up and she gobbled them up like they were a gourmet meal and charming everyone who saw her. What a con artist!

No I'm not expecting a baby. You can stop fainting now, Lars-Göran! But I am feeling happy because a friend in Australia wrote today to tell me that she and her man are having a baby! These are a lovely couple who I met online and who came to visit us here almost two years ago now. They were just as fantastic in real life as they had been online - especially as they came laden with Tim Tams, Aussie wine and that great Australian sense of humour. Congratulations, Roland and Nicole - we are really happy for you. And Lambi can't wait to be a dogmother....

I wasn't however thinking only of them. I've been busy in the kitchen this weekend and made up a batch of delicious Hot Cross Buns!



Okay, they aren't perfect by any means, but for a first try here I thought they were okay and next time, I'll try and NOT cut the hole in my piping bag so big, so you can see the cross a bit better. There were however, no complaints from Mr Swede as he buttered one and savoured the taste.



He really enjoyed them piping hot, fresh from the oven. And they tasted almost as good as the ones from Perryman's. He asked about the spices I used in them, so I let him smell the jar of mixed spice (a heady blend of cinnamon, coriander, dill, ginger, cloves, nutmeg and allspice), to see if he recognised the smell and he declared that it smelled exactly like ski wax! I assured him that this stuff smeared on his skis would not help him glide easily over the snow.

These buns are made especially for Easter, even though they do predate Christianity. There are many stories as to when the first hot cross buns were made and the story I like best is from Alan Davidson's "The Oxford Companion to Food". He says that they were first made in honour of their goddess of Spring, Eostre, from whom the name Easter is derived. Today they are traditionally served on Good Friday and there is a superstition that hot cross buns baked on Good Friday never became mouldy and in the past one bun would be saved as a good luck charm until the next year's buns were made. Can you imagine eating that?

Whatever the reason, Easter is just not Easter without them!

Last week, a lovely friend in Sydney sent me some fabulous Chilli Choc Fling Tim Tams (hey, Arnotts, your website isn't working!). I wonder how she knew?

I thought it was high time that I taught Lars-Göran how to eat a Tim Tam properly. These are not merely biscuits, they are an institution and the advertising campaign that comes with them bears testament to that:

Who am I to argue with that? Though I noticed that they have become tight arses and these special packs only come with nine biscuits. Anyway, I duly impressed on my sweet man, that eating a Tim Tam was an occasion and that the best way to really savour them was to partake of the time honoured Aussie tradition of a Tim Tam Orgasm (bet Google search will have fun with that one).

He remained skeptical, even after I carefully described how to do it. He seemed to think that I was playing a practical joke on him that I would then gleefully blog about. Oh ye of little faith! In the end, I only managed to convince him by showing him a short video excerpt, featuring Natalie Imbruglia demonstrating it on a UK talk show. And yes, I'm aware that people also call it a Tim Tam Slam, Tim Tam Explosion or even Shotgunning a Tim Tam. But I like my phrase better.

At last he agreed that it might not be yet another of my schemes to publicly humiliate him, so I brewed the coffee and set up to induct him into the Tim Tam rite of passage. You can choose any sort of drink - tea, coffee, hot chocolate, mocha, even something potent like Kahlúa is good. However, we in Sweden, who frown upon drinking in the afternoons, chose coffee.

So, first you bite a small corner off your Tim Tam, then the corner diagonally opposite like so:



You ought not bite too much off as then it will absorb the liquid too fast and crumble in a chocolaty mess in your hands. What a waste that would be.

Next step: Dip one nibbled corner of your Tim Tam into your cup of coffee. Suck hard, drawing the liquid up through the biscuit and cream layers and into your mouth. See, I'm carefully supervising the operation.



Now, once you begin to feel the coffee touch your tongue, give a final suck and then really quickly turn the Tim Tam around and pop the whole thing in your mouth. And savour the wonderful chocolate, coffee, cream, biscuit taste. It's unbeatable.



Now that last step needs careful timing. If you leave it too long, it will disintegrate into your drink. If you don't do it quite fast enough, you get to dribble it down your chin and your wife will laugh heartily!



Am I satisfied? Judge for yourself:



And did we go back again and again until the packet was finished in one sitting?

Självklart!



So what are they like?

I was pleasantly surprised. When I first bit into them, all I tasted was dark chocolate, just like the usual Classic Dark Tim Tam. Once you've finished the biscuit, though, the chilli starts to kick in - mildly spicy rather than burn off your mouth intensity. It is the cream part that is chilli flavoured and eating them the way we did brings out the heat nicely. While it's not the great experience of finest chocolate and chilli (which is an awesome combination) I really like the chilli aftertaste. I'd eat them again, though I still think the original ones are still the best.

Sadly, they are unavailable in Sweden, so I have to rely on kind friends in Australia to send them to me. Or maybe I could convince Lars-Göran to put in a monthly order at Great Aussie Food. Though looking at that site, I could fill a shipping container with desires....

Yes, I've found yet another must have knitted item for my collection. It's a Vegan Fox Scarf, that I think will go rather nicely with the Chicken Viking Hat I posted about before. For some reason, Lars-Göran does not share my unbridled enthusiasm for my new discovery, but once I have it here and give it a name, I'm sure we'll all get on famously.

In Australia, I used to have a shoe fetish. I loved to buy shoes and owned an almost Imelda Marcos number of them - mostly strappy, heeled sandals in a dizzying array of colours to match any outfit and any mood. Sadly, these are a total waste in Sweden where it is never warm enough to wear them and where you'd break your neck on the poorly paved footpaths if you dared to try. So I think I've replaced it with a hat and scarf fetish.

I like the idea of a vegan fox scarf. It has horrified me to see the sheer number of vain people here willing to wear dead animals. Okay, I understand about the old ladies. It was more of the done thing when they were growing up and many of their coats look as old as they do. However, it's now a trend among the young, when these days there are so many good manmade fibres and warm fabrics that I wonder why people still wear the full length animal furs (it's never THAT cold!). What horrifies me even more is the young, trendy "beautiful people" who wear these animal fur scarves, complete with the legs and tiny faces still attached. I saw a couple at a voguish café in Stockholm and nearly threw up my lunch. How insensetive can you be?

So next winter, I should cut quite a figure in my Chicken Viking Hat and my Vegan Fox Scarf.

It's Easter soon and for me that means making Hot Cross Buns! Swedes eat a cream bun called semlor at this time of the year and while they are nice, I still long for freshly baked hot cross buns. In Adelaide, I was totally spoiled by having the wonderful Perryman's bakery close by and their buns were out of this world. I never liked the Tip Top ones at the supermarket, only Perryman's. Not all of the ingredients are readily available, but I bought mixed spice and sultanas at British grocery shop in Stockholm so I'm all ready to bake. I'm trying to hang on a week until the beginning of Holy Week, but I suspect I'll weaken and bake them this weekend.

For those on of you living in Melbourne or Sydney, it will be Swedish Style Australia festival time in March. It will be held in Melbourne from March 10th through to March 14th and then in Sydney from March 16th to March 20th. It's quite a big event, including a visit from the Swedish Prime Minister Göran Persson (I wonder how much that is going to cost us? He likes to travel in style, apparently) and Crown Princess Victoria and is all aimed at building an even stronger relationship between the cultures and people of Australia and Sweden. That is if we have room after the adoption of Mary of Denmark by the Australians. She and the crown prince have been visiting Australia and according to Aussie bloggers, they are being greeted by thousands of people as though they are pop stars. I bet most of the crowd would be hard pushed to find Denmark on a map!

And I thought the Swedish speakers might get a giggle from the picture I was sent by a friend in Söderköping this morning. I'm actually seriously considering getting one for Lars Göran before we go out on the weekend!

Remember last month, we went out with our friends Lennart and Anna for a hike around Lake Mälaren? At that time, in early February, the lake was frozen over with a good solid thickness of ice. Since then, it has been extremely cold, plus a fair bit of snow has fallen and the lake is now not suitable for skating anymore. What it IS good for, however, is skiing! No, not that skiing - this skiing:



It is beautiful out on the ice in clear sunny weather and despite the fact that this in an outer suburb of Stockholm, there was nobody around at all. What lies ahead is a long stretch of untouched, smooth snow surrounded by the forests, peace and quiet and the strong scent of pine - Scandinavian winter at it's best.

This day, the ski trip was up to the nearby historic township of Sigtuna, considered the oldest town in Sweden. We have sailed from Upplands-Väsby to Sigtuna several times when we lived there and on a good day, with the right winds it takes around an hour. On skis it takes a little longer, but see Anna enjoying herself in the sunshine, I think you'll agree that it was worth it:



One of the joys of being in Sweden is the simple pleasures that you enjoy. One does not need to carry large amounts of equipment or worry about starting bushfires. You can ski over to the nearest shore, gather some kindling and fallen wood and make a fire to heat coffee or grill a few sausages or just to keep warm while you munch on some sandwiches. And Lennart is the undisputed master at building a fire out in the woods. If I was lost out in the dark, dark forest, I would want to be lost with him!



The important thing is to relax, take in the scenery and simply enjoy life. It's pretty hard to get lost as one can always retrace the tracks back to where you started from.



While skiing back, Lennart noticed something dark on the ice and wondered what it could be. On approaching closer, it turned out to be a sweet little forest mouse, sitting all scrunched up and trembling. It was not afraid to be approached and just sat and looked at these giant creatues that surrounded it.



Anna was upset that all of the sandwiches had been eaten and there was nothing to offer the poor, shaking animal. It would appear that the mouse had ventured out to cross over the large expanse of ice and became too tired or cold to continue. It seemed cruel to just leave it there and Lennart searched through his rucksack and found a plastic container. He helped the little mouse into the container and quickly skied over to the edge of the woodland and let it free among the spruce twigs, where it scampered away quickly.

Even though it is getting lighter, the sun still lies low in the horizon and soon it becomes quite cold.



There is a special quality to the winter light in Sweden and you learn to appreciate those golden rays whenever you see them. After a trip like that, you just have to ralax and take it easy as it is quite tiring, even to Swedes who do this all of the time. How anyone ever manages to ski the 90km of the big Vasaloppet that was held yesterday is beyond me. I prefer to watch that from the comfort of my warm, cosy apartment.

A very stern letter has been sent to the owner of the website I spoke about last time who stole our pictures and tried to pass them off as HIS boat. It does contravene Swedish law and the applicable law and penalties were quoted along with the assurance that it will be pursued seriously, so we are waiting to see what will happen now. The man who owns Märtha is also following it up, as is the website owner for the OE Yacht Club, so I expect some action soon. In also saw a picture of Märtha under sail being passed off on a "boats for sale" website as a different boat, too. Why would they do that? I really hate sneaky people!

The Siberian Express seems to have moved on for the time being and we have returned to more normal March temperatures of around -4C or so. It is getting lighter earlier now as well and the sun is warm so I do know that spring is on the way.

The good:

Last night we were in Stockholm for the annual dinner for the OE Yacht Club of Scandinavia. We own an "OE" boat - that is a boat designed by the Swedish boat constructor Olle Enderlein and we are friends with several other owners so we looked forward to going along and catching up with all the news. We were lucky that Lars-Göran's daughter was able to dog-sit for us, so that I could enjoy my dinner without having a desperate dog staring at me!

There was an address and presentation by Lars Hässler, a well known author who has sailed for many years around the world. He was quite inspiring and very professional.

Afterwards we went to dinner together with the other guests (around 40 in all) and we were really lucky to grab a table with some lovely people, our friends who own an OE36 (the same boat that we have) Bosse and Ann and another couple from Hässelby, Lennart and Pirjo, who own an OE32. I don't think there was a quiet minute all evening as we happily chatted about everything under the sun. I have sometimes seen people on expat sites in Sweden complain about the fact that they are lonely and have no friends, people here are cold and how unfriendly Swedes are etc, when in fact I've found the complete opposite to be the case. The people I've met here have been warm, friendly, interested in both where I'm from and what I think of Sweden and happy to share experiences with me. The evening really was enjoyable because of the excellent company at the table.

Over coffee there was a short discussion about the club business and some ideas for summer meetings and we closed the evening with firm promises to get together in early summer out on the water - perhaps somewhere like Fjärdlång or Huvudskär would be nice.

This was a photo we took at Huvudskär last time we were there



It really is a picturesque place and always so relaxing to be there. I love the little red cottages that line the shore and the smooth, bare rocks that are so warm to sit on. It's all so very special and typically Swedish. It is impossible to work while you are in such a setting. So I take my cue from the natives:



Amazing how the dog starts to copy the mater's mannerisms, isn't it?

The bad:

We have discovered an online site for a person in Stockholm who owns an OE36 that he rents out for 9,000kr a week over the summer. We went to his site and clicked on the link for my rental boat to have a look. To say I was shocked is an understatement! Mr Staffan Carlens has pictures of "his" lovely boat. And she is a lovely boat. I ought to know because in fact those pictures are of OUR bloody boat, lifted and used without permission or indeed any acknowledgement. The one picture of the boat under sail is not our boat, but in fact is a boat called Märtha, that is moored in Nyköping. I suspect that the interior photos are the ones we sent in to be used in the OE36 site (click on various parts of the layout to see the photos).

I wouldn't normally be angry, except he is a businessman who ought to know better and his is a commercial site using pictures of OUR boat to get paying customers. The text definitely reads Click below for my hire boat (Klicka nedan på min uthyrningsbåt). MY boat for hire? I wonder what they think when they rent the boat and she doesn't look anything like the pictures? After all, part of the charm of the OE36 is that all 100 of the Mark 1 boats (of which ours is No. 16) are individually built. No two interiors are alike and the type of wood and finish and indeed the layout is very individual. Our boat is also unusual in that it uses mahogany rather than the more commonly used teak.

We were not happy campers when we discovered that and are making our views known to him. I'm interested to see what he will say for himself.

I need a new dog. Lambi won't do as she has cold feet. Quite literally, in fact.



Did I hear someone mention snow?



But it's March, isn't it? Surely the winter is over?



Well, in fact it seems to be just beginning in Sweden. Global warming? Don't make me laugh out loud. Does this look like global warming to you?

It is absolutley freezing outside at the moment. It has never been this cold in the five winters I've spent in Sweden, and in fact it is the coldest weather here for over thirty years, as an Arctic chill spreads over the land. Just north of Nynäshamn, in Tullinge, the mercury dropped to -26.9C (yes that's a minus sign there in case you thought it was a typo). For those that live in less enlightened lands, that's minus 16.9F. We have got off rather lightly, as it is far colder in the north of Sweden.

The air is streaming down northwards from Russia, across the Baltic to us in a phenomenon they call the Siberian Express. My American friends say that there is a similar thing called the Arctic Express or Polar Express where they come from. I still can't quite get my head around the concept of a cold north wind, though. Where I come from a northerly is as hot and searing as opening the oven door, swirling straight down to Adelaide from the Great Australian Desert and often accompanied by a choking red dust storm. A southerly buster on the other hand, sweeping up the Southern Ocean from Antarctica is the cold wind of the antipodes, though it has warmed up somewhat before it gets to Adelaide.

This Siberian Express happens every year around this time, but this is the first year that it's been quite so numbingly cold. Previously I marvelled at the minus 16C, but below that it really is amazing to be out when you can feel your nose hair freezing as you draw in a breath and you can literally see the air in front of you. The days are sunny and that makes life more bearable.

Lazing down at the harbour, we watched the ferry from Gdansk come in to dock.



The sea is starting to ice up and if these temperatures persist, the ice breakers will be brought in to clear the path for commercial traffic. There are still fishing boats going out regularly, plus a free harbour is needed for the oil deliveries by ships to the refinery and the passenger ferries to Visby (on Gotland), Gdansk (Poland), Ventspils and Riga (Latvia). At least that form of traffic can still operate. The rest of the transportation system is in utter chaos because of ice and extreme cold. Every night on the news, we see huge semitrailers and busses lying in ditches on the sides of major roads and train traffic is delayed by ice freezing the switches or making the journey dangerous. Many people have to stay home as the delays are long and commuting is a real chore. Thank goodness for internet access, so some work can be completed at home! Yesterday, the delays on the trains here meant that getting to Stockholm took hours - and I was too scared to go because I might not be able to get back!

Still, it is beautiful here in the sunshine and we spent a wonderful day together walking around and stopping to enjoy a break with a thermos of hot cocoa and biscuits, surrounded by nature. It doesn't get better than this!



Not everyone in the family is as happy about being out in nature. Despite the fact that I read Lambi history books about the origin of poodles as hunting dogs, retrieving ducks for their masters, she seems to be under the illusion that she is some kind of lap dog and insists on donning her warm, hand-knitted coat and being carried around in a backpack! She refuses to take more than 3 steps outside in the snow and when we suggested a walk, this is the response we got.



I haven't been able to crowbar her away from that sunny spot, so I guess it's just me going out, is it?