If there is one things that can overwhelm me in a wave of nostalgia, it is the scent of bluebells. My gran had a lovely old home, with her own creek running through the property and an enormous shady garden dominated by gracious old Moreton Bay fig trees. Beneath the canopy it was always cool, even on the hottest February day and I loved exploring the lush green ferns and her very special "bluebell wood" - a small bushy area which in the spring was carpeted with bluebells in full flower.

In that carpet, which appeared like magic every year, I could occasionally find a white or pink bloom, but the majority of the flowers were a glorious sky blue and the entire patch smelled like heaven. Bluebells have a scent very similar to hyacinths, which as everyone knows, can perfume an entire home with a single bloom.

As a young girl I would walk down by the creek and wander among the trees and ferns, through the archways of white and lilac wisteria until I eventually ended up in the bluebell patch. I would take a deep breath of the heady scent and as it filled my nostrils, I would revel in the seemingly endless carpet of cheerful blue nodding heads. Invariably I couldn't resist picking an armful of the flowers and carrying them home to my mother, who would carefully place them in a vase so that their scent could waft through the house.

Today when I was outside with the dog, I noticed a small clump of bluebells under a tree in the back garden in full bloom, and I had to immediately stop and walk over to smell them.




In an instant, I was ten years old again, wandering through the bluebells at gran's house, picking armfuls for my mother. That single sniff transported me 26,000 kilometers and 39 years. It was a feeling that lasted all day.

Well, at least until I came home and saw what the busy little birds had been up to. That is Sheila you can see sitting on the chair looking quite casual and nonchalant. And what is that I can see behind her on the pull-out keyboard shelf of our desk? I really hope that's not the spiral-bound exercise book that Lars-Göran has been using to record information for our trip. It can't be, surely?




Dear God, it is! What an amazing job the little critters have done. I'm wondering if I could possibly hire them out to help the government shred any sensitive documents - there would be no hope of pasting all those pieces back together again. Hmmm... I wonder if he'll notice when he gets home?




Well, I think he might. I simply cannot believe that these two little devils have managed to do such a thorough job in so short a time. Maybe I can pass it off as collecting nesting materials? I think first I better get busy with the vacuum cleaner *grin*




Now I'm wondering what else they will get up to as we are leaving them overnight tomorrow as we head across to Lövhagen for the annual Valborgsmässoafton bonfire. I hope we have an apartment to return to! So see you back here on Monday night!

Ohhhhhhhh it's cold out! After glorious spring sunshine which had lasted for days and days, we woke up to gusty winds, thick fog and gray skies. I stepped outside with Lambi into blowing rain and brrrrrrrrrrr downright icy cold winds. You can barely see across to the island on the other side of our bay.




It's hard to believe that they forecast summer conditions this week - and even harder to believe that I actually took them seriously! That will teach me. I used to love the rain in Adelaide. Rainy weekends especially provided an excuse to stay in bed or lie for hours on end on the couch, with either tea and a good book or some bad television and a bowl of ice cream depending on the time of the month. Even walking around in the rain could be fun too, especially during a nice autumn rain on a misty day. And a summer thunderstorm even more so. But I think that has worn off in Sweden as we get so many rainy days during spring and summer. A friend was saying yesterday that there are 164 rain days per year here!

It is harder to take photos on such grey days. There is no contrast to excite you and everything looks drained of colour and life. The crocus have closed up, waiting for sunshine before opening again, the daffodils are still not out, nor are the tulips. Everything is just waiting.




This week has been busy again and there seems a lot of things still left to get through and plan before we go away. We have amassed a lot of literature now, bought or borrowed all of the charts we need and started letting friends know that we are heading their way. One friend was disappointed that our route does not pass the town where she lives, so I jokingly told her that she ought to get her dog out to dig a canal between their lake and the Göta Kanal. She answered that the dog was busy digging a hole from Sweden to Australia.

That reminded me of when I was a kid in Adelaide and I was told that if I dug a hole in the ground, I would come out in China. Did your mum tell you that? Well, it seems that clearly my mum lied to me! This rather nifty Google Maps hack shows where you’d come out if you dig straight through the Earth. Contrary to what my mother told me, digging a hole in my backyard wouldn’t get me to China. Instead, I’d have the Northern Atlantic Ocean pouring into Adelaide. If you want to end up in China, you need to live in Argentina. I wonder if I should tell Carolyn that if Sophie continues with her hole, they will end up somewhere between New Zealand and Antartcica? Some dogs of course have far more important things to do.




We have another lovely long weekend this week, with Valborg on Sunday and May Day on Monday. We are heading off to the bay where the big bonfire will be lit - our first overnight trip out on the boat this season. Valborg is celebrated in Sweden in different ways, depending on the part of the country you live in. However, the lighting of extremely large bonfires is a popular way to celebrate all over Sweden, where people have been gathering material for their bonfires for months ahead. The lighting bonfires is an ancient custom related to keeping away evil spirits, demons and witches.

Nowadays Valborg is simply seen as an official welcoming of spring and a way to finally farewell winter. The spring will literally be sung in with special spring songs. Choral singing is very typical of Swedish Valborg celebrations, with many of the traditional songs dating from as back as the 19th century. The most popular and traditional spring festivities are held in the old university towns of Uppsala, Lund and Gothenburg, with its famous carnival parade. In those cities, the students party all day and all night (and even perhaps longer than that). It is also the king's 60th birthday, so there will be celebrations for that as well in Stockholm.

So we will be joining in our local bonfire, watching from the boat, with good food, good wine and good company. The forecast is for a cold, but clear and sunny day - it should be great.

One of the less welcome signs of spring in Sweden is the re-emergence of the noisy garden machines from their winter hibernation. One of the blessings of a snowy winter is that we are spared the weekend sounds of lawn mowers, hedge clippers, weed trimmers, leaf blowers and the dreaded mulchers and chainsaws. Everything lays quietly under the snow blanket and I get a few extra minutes of sleep on a Sunday.

This bliss is now over and I was rudely woken at 7a.m. on Easter Sunday morning by a neighbour who thought it was an ideal time to cut down a 20m birch tree in his front garden! There followed hours and hours of droning as the tree was felled, cut into logs and some of it mulched. By the end of the day, other machinery had been hauled out of the neighbourhood sheds and any thought of a peaceful daydream on the balcony was rendered impossible.




It is times like this when I wish I lived back in Australia. Yes, I know that these Sunday morning idiots live there too, but at least I could perhaps rely on some kind soul like Brutus to come to my rescue.

Brutus chewed on the chainsaw for 90 minutes, reducing it to pieces.

We think so much alike! I really want Brutus to come and live here with me to restore some peace to the neighbourhood. Of course, Lars-Göran relished in the story - it fascinates him that our wildlife has as much attitude as the human population in Australia. It's one of our more endearing traits.

Fortunately, we can escape to our floating home down at the harbour and enjoy a quieter time. I love having the flexibility of a boat as a second home. People have asked us whether we would trade it for a summer cottage by the shore somewhere but the answer is always "No!" We can move our boat around to different places, take advantage of the best sunny spots and if we don't like the neighbours or the view, we can always move somewhere more appealing across the clear, beautiful blue water. It's a perfect life.

Today, the beautiful crested grebes (skäggdopping) are back to mate. These are lovely, elegant birds and we enjoy watching them dive for food and to see their complex courting rituals that are like watching ballet.




The variety of birds here in Nynäshamn are really amazing. Of course, there are always birds like ravens and seagulls around here. The gulls stick close to the fishing boats, but the ravens gather on the shore by the restaurants and parks. They are huge, black, noisy and really clever. I've watched them work in teams to tease a dog, to steal a morsel from a cat, to divebomb another bird and to knock the lid off a rubbish bin. These are birds to be noticed and respected. But my favourite bird has to be the sea eagle (havsörn). These birds are so graceful - I love to listen to the whoosh of their wings as they soar high overhead.




Seeing eagles and ravens practically in my backyard is a great reminder of how privileged I am to live in this natural water setting. NOT hearing lawn mowers, car traffic, blaring stereos or surburban sounds is another. The sounds here are predictable and comforting. In one word: Peace.

It's not all sitting around bird watching, though. The boat needs constant work to keep it all well maintained. One of those jobs is to repaint the waterline stripes each spring. Our boat lies in the water during winter and as the ice moves against the hull, it acts like sandpaper and rubs off part of the painted line. So it was out with the dinghy and some good old wet'n'dry sandpaper to even it all up a bit before we haul her out to pressure clean the hull before we leave. I'm glad it is Lars-Göran doing the sanding as I'm sure I would lose my balance in an instant!




I'm taking care of stocking the boat with household goods, food etc and trying to think of everything we will need for the trip. The list is endless! At this stage of the preparations it always seems as though we have too much to do in too short a time, but I know from previous trips that it does all sort itself out in the end, so I feel quite calm and confident - and really looking forward to setting sail and immersing myself in the glorious countryside of Sweden. Spring makes me so happy and it's nice to know that summer is just around the corner as well.

Thankyou, Mr Frost - what a perfect description of April. While the cloud has come over the sunlit arch this morning, it was a gorgeous weekend here, probably the first one we've had this year. It was bright and sunny, the temperature hovered around 14C and there was barely a cloud in sight.




It's just those kinds of days when I wish that I could write poetry, long and beautiful odes to Mother Earth in honour of her special day. If I could, I would have written about the swan I saw flying across the bay on Saturday morning, slowly and elegantly gliding towards the water. She was glorious as she slid effortlessly and gracefully through the air currents.




Or perhaps I'd write about the spring that is emerging all at once, with fields of crocus (krokus), wood anemone (vitsippor), snow drops (snödroppar) and daffodils (påskliljor) growing as wild as dandelions (maskros). Or the bluebells (blåklockor) lying in wait to replace them while the warm earth basks in sun.




The first small blossoms of wood anemone are blooming in the sunny little nooks in the woods. There are no bright, vivid colours here, just the precious morning light and this small glowing white amid last year's leaves. It's so peaceful...

Or perhaps I'd write an amusing limerick about the funny seagulls and their antics, especially the black faced gulls dancing on the harbour light poles.




We were outside for the whole day on Saturday and it felt so good to be without the thick, down-filled, bulky winter coats, enjoying the spring warmth on our shoulders. As we listened to the springtime sounds we both felt alive and refreshed. The ice has totally vanished, it is mid-April and one of spring's first really warm days. The ground has thawed and the air smells of fresh pine-needles while a gentle breeze ruffles the glittering water. We can see open water for the first time in months and our longing for the sea is really strong.

What better thing to do than to take the boat out for a quick spin? We had guests coming for dinner that night, but I had cooked everything in advance and as they are good friends, I felt quite relaxed about it all. So early in the morning, we set off along the familiar route out of the harbour and along the fairway heading south. The houses lining the shore looked bright in the sunlight and the newly raised Swedish flags flew proudly in the brisk breeze.




We decided to stop off at the bay where the boat club lies as there was the second-hand swap going on as well as a competition for some of the small radio-controlled sailing boats. And anyway, with the first boat launchings beginning today, this is the last weekend for several owners to get everything ship-shape so the wharf area was bound to be busy.

At the swap we were lucky enough to buy two of these fantastic chairs designed by Ergolife. It is the sort of simple but smart and functional design that you come to expect from Scandinavians. The chair is made from wooden slats, joined with canvas. It all rolls up into a compact parcel which you can store in a canvas bag and then you simply unroll it and fold it open to use on picnics, at the beach, on deck or anywhere that you need a seat with some good back support. It is ideal for all of our fika moments on shore and we were extra pleased to get two of them for 300kr (they are normally 400kr each). I also bought myself a club shirt and Lambi wandered along and made friends with the guy running the hot dog stall! Back to the boat for coffee with friends and a chance to relax and enjoy the sun.




Doesn't that dog look content? We spent some more time checking out progress on the wharf, chatting with friends and making arrangements for things to be taken care of when we are away. Luckily we were able to pay someone to do our guard duty in July, to arrange to have our mail collected, plants watered and the frame for our boat gathered and locked up once it is ready. The place was buzzing with activity and a few people were wishing that their boat was already in the water on such a glorious day. They are forecasting a burst of summer weather next week, with temperatures in the low 20C range, so that augers well for next weekend's Walpurgis eve bonfire. We also went down and watched the minature yacht race by the clubhouse pier.




They are so tiny and look so cute, even though the competition is really fierce and those involved are intense and focused on winning. All in all, there was a lovely, friendly and relaxed atmosphere here today, with everyone positive and itching to get those boats in the water.

We were not the only ones out on the water today. There were a lot of small fishing boats around as well and quite a few people on the shore casting lines. And one complete madman actually IN the water!




It must have been absolutely freezing and we both shivered and shook our heads, wondering (and not for the first time) what possible appeal there can be in fishing. It's not my idea of fun to stand up to my armpits in icy seas just to catch dinner. Each to their own, I guess.

Dinner on Saturday night was fabulous - our friends are a delightful Australian-Swedish couple and the night was full of laughter and non-stop chatting. Beth has only been in Sweden for two years, yet she speaks excellent Swedish, so much so that converstations were conducted effortlessly in both languages. I think the highlight of the night was when we were discussing the ghastly beach wear that we see around Sweden in the summer and Beth dropped the truly Australian term budgie smuggler to describe those men who wear the skimpy, revealing speedos. Lars-Göran, sensing an opportunity to to shake his head at Australians (yet again) quickly pounced on the term and demanded an explanation, which we both tried to give him, while keeping a straight face. Needless to say, he was horrified and quickly declared that as a nation we were all certifiably insane (or did he say "stark, raving mad"?) Whatever. It was a great night and Sandy, you will be pleased to know that I had to give out your Mexican Fruit Cake recipe yet again! Second time in less than a week.

An equally fulfilling Sunday left me with the feeling of how much I love the Swedish way of life. Life here is conducted on a less complicated level and as I grow older, I love the idea of living smaller and lighter. I’ve learned here that simplicity can encompass everything from architectural line and functional beauty to sharing what we have and how we treat our environment and our friends and neighbours. The Swedish way of life is simple in its most profound and refined sense and I relish being a part of it.

There are bright blue skies and big puffy clouds after a day of Spring showers. The sunny, warm days are quickly out numbering the cooler ones and with the sun rising at around 5a.m. and setting around 8.30p.m. we are speeding towards the summer of long, light days. What a contrast to deepest December with less than four hours of daylight.




There were more spring signs today. The local kiosks and small harbour food outlets are begining to dust off the cobwebs and get ready to open for the season. Not everything is open and still after all of this time I marvel at the fact that they can make a viable living out of shops that are only open from late May till late September. One shop that has reopened is the harbour grill, where I saw a sign that made me laugh:




This is the hot dog guide. Apart from the fact that they look so unappetising and foul, I seriously laugh at the way that there appears to be a lack of communication between the sausage makers and the roll makers. Wouldn't you think they'd get together and make sure that their products complemented each other? What is with the long bits of sausage hanging over the edge of the rolls? Are they trying to look like those historically inaccurate horned viking helmets? And how gross do they look, topped by weird things like mashed potato (though that one looks a bit like a friendly cow), gherkin mayonnaise or prawn salad! *shudder* These signs always make me smile. I also used to puzzle over the way hot dogs were sold in the supermarket. You can buy a package of ten sausages, but the rolls only come in packs of eight or sixteen! How does that work, I wonder?

Another harbinger of spring that caused a smile was the emerging spring fashions.




The little girl approaching this pair of trendsetters was looking sideways at them and openly laughing. Little does she realise that in a few short years she too will be parading around in something equally ridiculous. I can remember my daughter going through a brief "goth period" when she was around 14 or so. That winter, we went up to Queensland's Gold Coast for a vacation to escape the cold Adelaide winter. While everyone was swanning around in tropical shirts and bright, summery clothes and sandals, she was decked out in long, flowing black robes and shawls with Doc Martens on her feet. Quite a few people stared at her and several years later she looked at the holiday photos and said accusingly to me "How could you have let me do that?" as though I had any say in the matter.

The ones who currently amuse me are the gangs of young teens loping around town, dressed in expensive designer tops, low-slung baggy jeans at least two sizes too big for them and flashy gold jewellery. They seem quite unaware of how silly they look and sound by trying to dress like pimps and walk and talk like tough black 'gangstas' from some American inner city ghetto. Like my daughter, I guess they'll grow out of it.

From what I've seen of this year's look, it it retro 70's again. I now wish that I'd kept my wedge heeled and cork heeled sandals and my big plastic framed sunnies so I could be really fashionable. Not that it would matter when out on the boat. The seagulls don't care what you are wearing - or do they?




This is a pair of black-faced gulls. They are called skrattmås in Swedish (literally "laughing gulls") and they look like they are following along behind someone mocking them, though in reality they are engaged in some kind of courtship dance. Sometimes it is funny when you come home and look at the photographs you've taken and see a moment that makes you smile.

And more varieties of flowers continue to surprise me each day. Today it is s small clump of the very pretty tidig blåstjärna (Scilla bifolia or alpine squill).




In the very dawn of spring (and indeed often in winter) this plant bears rich masses of dark blue flowers and every year I marvel at the intensities which these early bloomers bring to the garden - so fragile, so tiny and yet so resilient. These vibrant blues are essential elements of Spring returning to the north. I have a deep need to gather up these special times, places and my own thoughts as I walk through the wooded trails observing the turning of the seasons in my new home.

It's a busy day tomorrow for us with a small swap market at the boat club in the morning, followed by good friends coming to visit and stay for dinner. I'm really relaxed and everything is already organised, so I can simply look forward to their company and to enjoying my precious weekend. Lars-Göran is off helping Björn fix the sails on his client's boat, so it will be a late dinner for us tonight. We were also really lucky and managed to score some great books yesterday. Lars-Göran had gone to the boat club just to start checking out the position of a boat he has to lift this week and to pop into the office to pay our winter electricity bill for the boat. There he came across a pile of books that were left at the club to be sold at the swap meet - and would you believe he came home with fifty-six books! They are all about sailing, with many of them about long distance voyages in both English and Swedish. I think we'll have plenty to read onboard this summer. Where are we going to put them all?

Why did I tempt fate yesterday by mentioning summer holidays? This morning when I got up at 6.30a.m., my world was white again. At first I thought I must be dreaming, but no, it was snowing heavily and the ground was covered in white! Just when I thought it was safe to pack away the long thermal undies....

Fortunately because of the "high" temperature (+7C), it was a shortlived, Mt Lofty kind of snow that quickly melted as the falling snow transformed itself into heavy rain and by 8a.m. it was as though it had never been. I guess today will be one of spring rains ahead of the nice sunny weekend they are forecasting. We have friends from Södertälje coming over on Saturday, so I hope it's nice enough to go out on the boat for a spin with them.

I can't believe that it's almost the weekend again already. I feel a bit out of rhythmn this week after the extra long weekend. All day Tuesday it felt like Monday and even today, I still act as though I've misplaced a weekday somewhere. It's a strange and slightly confusing feeling. Lars-Göran thinks it's a sign of my creeping old age.

At breakfast this morning, I looked out my kitchen window and spotted this cute little guy:




This is a sädesärla or pied wagtail, one of the bird species that winters in the Middle East and North Africa, returning to Sweden in the spring (which is apparently now, despite the morning's snow). A little later the female appeared and they busied themselves grubbing around in the grass for insects and calling out in their high, distinctive voices. They are such cute little birds and really remind me of the busy, cheeky little willy wagtails that we had in our suburban Adelaide garden. One of my aunties had one of these birds nesting in her letterbox once and she had to put in a second letterbox so they would not be disturbed!

Our seagull pair are back again as well. I've talked about them in past years as well as it is so unusual to see a nesting pair of gulls in a suburban garden. These guys have been coming to the house across the road for several years and while eating dinner yesterday evening, we watched them pulling out worms in the front lawn and strutting about as though they owned the place, which I guess in their world, they do. It is far more common to see them nesting out on exposed rocks in the archipelago and while it provides protection from some predators like domestic cats and foxes, it never seems a comfortable way to raise a family.




Yesterday was a warm, sunny spring day and an ideal one to check out the quiet woodland along the beach road, especially now that we are blessed with long hours of dayliht extending into the late evening. The light yesterday was really special and a taste of the next few months to come.




There is no doubt that I live in a beautiful area - this is but a short walk from our home. I like to gaze out across the glittering water towards the distant horizon and listen to the gentle lapping of the sea on the rocks below. There are no tides here in the Baltic, so the noise is nearly always a gentle, soft sound which is so unlike the crashing of surf that we associate with the sea in southern Australia.

One feels a sense of contentment as you stand here with the sea before you and the quiet forest behind. The only sounds that break the rhythm of the water are the hunting cries of a gryfalcon circling overhead, the reverberating echoes of a woodpecker hammering on a birch tree nearby and the sharp clear song of an osprey over the bay. I really love how dappled the floor of the forest is in this light and what a splendid spicy fragrance wafts up as you walk through these woods.




These are not earth shattering experiences by any means, but coming after a long cold winter, they made me feel like dancing, and delighting in the light and the patterns everywhere.

Then it was home for fika and this too was something special. Sandy, a friend of mine living in the west of Sweden posted a recipe some time ago for a Mexican Fruitcake. I emailed her to ask if she had forgotten to put in the butter (all cakes seem to start with the instructions, cream butter and sugar...), but she assured me that the recipe was correct so I went ahead and baked it. What can I say? I thoroughly recommend that you try the cake. It was so quick and easy to make and the cake itself was moist, substantial and delicious, especially iced with the cream-cheese icing - a perfect ending to a perfect day.

I haven't really spoken about our summer plans much. This is partly because summer felt so far away and also that there is a feeling that if you mention it, then somehow you have the potential to jinx it. Once you say "We are doing this..." there is a sense that you become tied to that and I wanted to still work it all out in my head first and also see that it would be possible to co-ordinate everything so that we could be away for an extended period.

And we can!

While everything is still subject to change, at this stage we are planning to spend around four months out sailing fairly continuously. The idea is to sail down the east coast to the St Anna Archipelago, then turn west and cross Sweden using the famous Göta Kanal and Trollhätten Kanal to the west coast of Sweden.




We had always said that we'd never travel the Göta Kanal route as neither of us was thrilled by the prospect of long stretches of motoring in a narrow, shallow canal, of countless locks to negotiate, of crowded, noisy guest harbours, not to mention the sheer eye-watering expense. The canal also has the colloquial name The Divorce Ditch in Sweden, so that also causes you have to stop and wonder if this is an experience best avoided.

However, when we stopped to logically think about it all, there were ways around some of these things and really the other things were to be endured for only such a short time that our objections were rather silly when weighed against the chance to experience the adventure of travelling along Sweden's "orient express on water". So Göta Kanal it is!

The whole canal runs through the centre of Sweden, beginning on the east coast at Söderköping and continuing through the great lakes of Vättern and Vänern, before joining the Trollhätte canal and the river Göta älv to continue on to Göteborg. It was constructed in the early nineteenth century and remains one of Sweden's great engineering feats. It runs for a total of 190 kilometres and has 58 locks. About eighty-seven kilometres of this is man-made, dug by hand using iron-shod wooden spades. There were 58,000 soldiers assigned to do this over the 22 years of construction. I don't envy them the task one little bit. When you look at a cross section of the landscape you can appreciate what a feat this was.




Each time we pass a lock we are raised a little higher and higher above sea level, until we are 98.1m above sea level in Lake Vättern. After that, we must descend over the same distance to be at sea level again on the west coast. We've been reading up about how to negotiate the locks and as we have opted to go during the quieter spring season there won't be hundreds of boats vying for space and the guest harbours will still be quiet. Mind you, they still want to charge us the full 4,300kr (about $770) to travel along the canal ONE WAY. When you consider that most of the European canals are free or have a small nominal fee, this seems rather expensive. We also have to pay another 730kr ($130) for the Trollhätte Kanal, plus diesel for the sections that we have to motor along, so the crossing of Sweden is expensive even if you take your own boat. But it will be lovely!




We'll do all of this at our leisure, spending time looking at various towns along the way, sailing around the big lakes and checking out historic sights as well as fun places and then spend our midsummer and beyond out on the Swedish west coast, sailing up to Norway (still subject to the bird flu restrictions as Bruce and Sheila will be onboard with us). There are so many places that I want to see over there that I hope we can fit it all in. We had a taste of it all five years ago when we went to buy the boat in Göteborg and drove around some of the mainland areas, looking longingly at the islands in the distance. I can't wait to see it all for myself.




We have plans to meet up with some friends along the way at Trollhätten, Göteborg, Orust, Strömstad then again as we take the longer route home along the coastline, stopping to drop in on friends in Helsingborg and Malmö. Some of these people I've only known online, so it will be a first for me to see them face to face. I can't wait.

The summer stretches invitingly ahead - a great mixture of sailing, exploring, socialising and being together having fun. And all this is to begin in just a few short weeks.

Eeek! I better start packing now :)

This is a sentiment that everyone in Sweden shares - winter's gone. And nothing could signal that more than the first blooms appearing. I can't tell you how much I miss seeing the green trees when it gets so cold and gloomy during the winter.

Welcome back spring!




When I conjure up spring in my mind and in my daydreams, the single powerful image that dominates is that of the first crocuses. I'm in good historical company in that regard. To acknowledge the changing season and as a gesture of celebration, the ancient Romans would scatter the very first crocuses of Spring across their banquet tables like so many small, vivid precious stones.

I love to look at the first blooms outside and honestly I cannot bring myself to pick the crocuses in my garden, but every year, the appearance of these little wonders is something to celebrate in my own way, just by looking at them. Everyone has small clusters of crocuses, tiny irises, and snowdrops in their lawn. I suppose that when Mother Nature forgets to display the other signs of spring like warmth and sun, these flowers serve as a reminder of what's to come: an end to the grey and the drab of Winter.




You can see that this garden across the road from us is still a combination of grayish green and yellow, but soon it will be bright green and verdant, glowing with the spring rains.

Our Easter Sunday was really enjoyable, if somewhat hectic. It was a rush to get the dinner organised then transport it all up to my mother-in-law's place, but it was worth it to see all of the family together again to welcome home Madde and wish her a very happy birthday. Everybody ate and drank heartily, talked and laughed together, looked at the hundreds of photographs that she took of her trip to India and Sri Lanka and the atmosphere was relaxed, casual and pleasurable. The beautiful sunny afternoon and evening also added to the ambience.




One thing we all discussed was our summer holiday plans, with everyone planning and looking forward to a summer of rock festivals, cycling tours, sailing and generally taking time out to enjoy the short but intense Swedish summer. The whole summer holiday period here is like an alternative reality. People go away, they dress differently, eat different food, including things that are seasonal, special and indulgent. They also behave differently. I find people here in July to be more relaxed, more sociable and more spontaneous. Just listening to everyone yesterday describing midsummer and the holiday month, they all spoke in terms of letting their hair down, having fun, celebrating, letting off steam, unwinding and going a bit mad for a change. And who can blame them when the manic-depressive Swedish weather does such an abrupt about face.




Three short weeks ago, this scene looked slightly different! I love how the year can be so drastically segmented, killed and reborn. There's such beauty in watching nature apparently wake up and bloom. I revel in the crispness in the air, coupled with cloudless skies and a renewed attitude, a longing to get out and experience the day.




I'll write more about our summer plans later in the week - now I have a cake to bake for tomorrow's fika with Madde - Lambi is going to be SO happy to see her again so soon. What a pity she leaves for her school in Skåne on Wednesday .... but it won't be long before she's back for summer holidays!

Sometimes I am lost for words. Okay, those people who know me in real life can just stop laughing right now. I am lost for words that can begin to capture the joy, the happiness, the laughter and the fun that accompanies the first time out sailing for the season.




As you can see, we were blessed with a glorious spring day and even though I had dinner for twelve people to prepare for tomorrow, it was far too nice a day to waste it inside - the sun and the sea beckoned, so we found that it was hard to resist the call of the sea and off we set.

I am astounded that the ice disappeared so quickly. Six days ago, the area around our boat looked like this:




That ice still seemed pretty thick. It was certainly strong enough to support the weight of the swans, who at around 15 kg are a pretty hefty sized bird. They walked around quite confidently and I recall wondering at the time if there was ever going to be a thaw. My hopes brightened a couple of days later when I saw a group of kids standing on the shore opposite where the boat is moored. It was beautiful and sunny and they were watching the swans, who had gathered around hopefully with thoughts of a potential source of a free handout. I noted at the time that the ice was melting slowly in the inner part of the bay, over by the sunny side of the shore. But that was only four days ago - I felt that it would still be a long time before the boat was free from ice.




But in the space of a few days, the scene has changed so completely that now the ice seems like just a bad dream and the blue water lays ahead beckoning us to come out and play. The early morning radio weather forecast was for sunny conditions with light winds and a possible temperature of 14C, which I know sounds cold to most Australians, but it is considerably warmer than the weather we have been having for the last six months so it feels relatively warm to us.

Once outside, we felt that the chill has left the air and conditions would be perfect for our first cruise of the season. It would only be for a few hours - just a chance to glide around locally, find a nice bay, enjoy a coffee break and then glide home again. We spent some time packing away tools, packing up the cockpit tent, trying to remember our usual routines before we set off, leaving the township in our wake.




The joy of a four day weekend is that you can spend your time doing as you please, with no meetings, interruptions, appointments - it's like the real world is on hold for that time. We saw so many people out today enjoying the sunshine. The shore was lined with small groups of fishermen tucked away in every nook and cranny. There were children out on the small private piers lining the island of Trehörningen watching while dad went out to check his nets - the air was full of the sounds of laughter and families out enjoying themselves.




It wasn't only the humans who were out in force today - I noticed that a large variety of birds have made their way here over the last few days. Across from our town, hidden in the reeds and among the rocks of the archipelago we saw the usual gulls, ducks and coots we have been observing for several weeks. But there were also grebes (doppingar), oystercatchers (strandskatar), black-headed gulls (skrattmåsar), terns (tärnor), eider (ejder) and one of my favourites - the very pretty long-tailed duck (alfåglar).




The noise was deafening in places as the birds squabbled among themselves, fighting to secure both a mate and a suitable nesting place to begin breeding. I don't know how they can bear living in such noisy proximity to each other. Another bird has also returned - and this one is loathed by the local fishermen, who complain bitterly about their exploding numbers and the amount of fish they eat. This is the infamous cormorants (skarvar), who were hanging around like ... well, shags on a rock!




We were surprised that the wind out on the water was fresher and stronger than the forecast led us to believe it would be. It was blowing from the south-west which meant "on the nose" in the direction we were taking. This meant that we would go by engine along the fjärd but would be able to hoist the foresail and glide home downwind later on - unless the wind became spiteful and turned northerly.

The water glittered ahead, the people on the shore watched as we went past and we enjoyed the peace and quiet of being the only sailing boat out on the water. Most boats are still on land, with people spending Easter working frantically to be ready to launch them in a couple of weeks. So I felt especially happy that we elect to stay in the water all year, giving us a chance to enjoy days like this. Really it was a perfect day.





We thought we would swing into the main boat club bay and check out the activity at the wharf. As you can see, most boats are still covered, with people busy polishing, scraping, painting under the covers. I think that Swedes must have the best maintained hulls in the world as they take them up every year to paint, sand and polish everything thoroughly.




Heading back out into the main channel, Lambi came up out of her basket to smell the aroma of spring and check out the horizon. This was when we spotted another yacht out on the water. We recognised it as a ketch that has been at the local guest harbour all winter and they too must have taken advantage of the ideal conditions to take out their boat for a spin as well. So we were not alone after all!




A little further down the coastline, we eased our way into a pretty little bay and anchored out in the sunshine while I went inside and put on coffee and tea so we could sit outside and enjoy the fresh air for a while. This bay is part of a nature reserve and the place where we came last year for the bonfire on Valborgsmässoafton last year. We'll be coming here again on April 30th - and it will feel good to be viewing it from the water this time rather than from the land.




As in other parts of Nynäshamn today, there were a lot of people out driving along the coastal road, walking through this part of the nature reserve, sitting on the rocks sunning themselves and fishing off the small headlands and points. We were happy just to sit and relax for a while with a warm drink, enjoying the sunshine and the feeling of peace which one gets out on the water.




That also extends to the non-human member of today's crew. She settled back into her usual onboard routine right away - the usual getting in the way at critical moments, then sleeping in her basket a while, before hogging the thickest, softest cushion in the best spot - after begging for food, of course. And they call it "a dog's life" as though that was a bad thing. I wouldn't mind this dog's life.




After a while, we uncovered the foresail, drew up the anchor and edged out of the shallow bay back into deeper water, where we turned off the engine and savoured the instant silence - I love it! The only sounds were the distant seabird colonies, the occasional flap as the sails filled with wind and the gentle swish-swish as the boat cut effortlessly through the water at a slow and easy 3-4 knots. Even more people on the shore stopped to look and I think a few of them were feeling that the sight of a sailing boat out on the water means that spring was really here. Summer holidays must be really close.....




It was such a fabulous afternoon and evening from start to finish and it was surely the first of many happy times we'll be spending on the water this year.

When we arrived home, we ate a little of our Memma. This is a traditional Finnish Easter treat that I like to have every year. The Finns call it Mämmi and it is a type of dark brown porridge and tastes like a thick, grainy pudding made with treacle (although there isn't any treacle in the recipe). It is something that Lars-Göran remembers fondly from his childhood Easters in Vasa. We served it topped with sugar and thickened cream.



Absolutely deadly on the waistline, but as a once a year treat - delicious. And a perfect end to a perfect spring day.

To all who celebrate it, I wish you a very Happy Easter or Glad Påsk for tomorrow! Enjoy your day wherever you may be.

Hot cross buns!
Hot cross buns!
One a penny, two a penny,
Hot cross buns!

If you have no daughters,
Give them to your sons!
One a penny, two a penny,
Hot cross buns!

For me, especially in the last few years, the smell that evokes the idea of Easter has to be the heady aroma of freshly baked, spiced hot cross buns wafting through the house. In Australia, gran and mum made hot cross buns every Good Friday and I loved waking on that morning, knowing from the beautiful smell that we'd be having them for our breakfast before trooping off to the Stations of the Cross at the local church. I see these buns as part of my own Easter tradition.

Back then we were only allowed to eat them on Good Friday, but as I grew up, the shops started selling them during the week before Easter (much to gran's horror and boy did she tell off the manager of our local Foodland for it) Later on, the buns became available earlier and earlier, until now we have the ludicrous situation where they are on sale from New Year's Day onwards in many supermarkets. Once I was an adult, I used to buy them regularly during Lent (sorry, gran), though I went to the effort of making them for Good Friday, especially when my own children were small and happy to help me with it all.

Now I live in Sweden, there are no Hot Cross Buns at all, so I always make my own on Good Friday to keep up the tradition. The whole flat is full of the delicious smell of freshly baked buns and I'm impatient for Lars-Göran to come home so I can start scoffing them - lightly toasted with lashings of butter, of course. It was all so much easier when I could just grab a bag while we were at Woolies or Coles.... *sigh*

The recipe I used was the same one gran used all those years ago. It makes 16 lovely buns and I'll include it here if you'd like to try it. I'll put the Swedish measurements in brackets. Some ingredients are impossible to get in Sweden, so you can for example use russin instead of sultanas. And the "mixed spice" is a mixture of ground cinnamon (kanel), cloves (kryddnejlika), nutmeg (muskotnöt), ginger (ingefära), coriander (koriander). You could use a little of each, or even just use allspice (kryddpeppar) as a substitute. Me? I bought a jar of Mixed Spice at The English Shop last year!

Hot cross buns

4 cups (10dl) plain flour
1 tsp (1 tsk) salt
30g compressed yeast
1½ cups (3.75dl) milk
½ cup (1.25dl) sultanas
60g butter
¼ cup (0.6dl) sugar
1 egg, beaten
½ tsp (½ tsk) mixed spice
½ tsp (½ tsk) cinnamon

Cross:
½ cup (1.25dl) plain flour
1/3 cup (0.8dl) water

Glaze:
1 Tbsp (1 msk) sugar
1 tsp (1 tsk) gelatine powder (or 2 gelatine sheets, soaked)
1 Tbsp (1 msk) hot water

In a medium bowl, cream the yeast with 1 teaspoon each of the sugar and flour, add lukewarm milk and mix well. Cover the bowl and place it in warm place for 10 to 15 minutes or until the mixture is frothy. In a large bowl, combine the flour, salt, sugar and spices, rub in the butter, then add the beaten egg, sultanas and yeast mixture, beat well.

Cover the bowl with a clean cloth and stand it in warm place for around 40 minutes or until the dough doubles in size. Punch the dough down, then turn it out on to a floured surface and knead well until dough is smooth and elastic.

At this stage, turn on the oven and set the temperature to 220°C.

Cut the dough into four equal pieces, then cut each piece again into four, making 16 buns in all. Knead each one into a round shape. Put buns on a lightly greased oven tray (or one lined with baking paper) and stand in warm place for 10 to 15 minutes while the buns rise.

When they have risen, mix the flour for the cross into a paste with the water. Put it into a small plastic bag (I used a 1 litre bag) and cut a small hole in one corner. (It's better to cut a tiny hole that you can make bigger if you need to, rather than cutting the hole too large in the first place).

Pipe the crosses on each bun. Bake them 220°C for 15 to 20 minutes, or until golden. Remove from oven, and immediately brush on the glaze, which is made by dissolving the sugar, gelatine and hot water.

Cool the buns on wire rack.




The origins of hot cross buns are a mixture of both pagan and Christian traditions and grew up in Britain. The Saxons offered them as sacrifices to their goddesses. The cross was said to represent the four quarters of the moon in certain ancient cultures, while still others believed that it was a sign holding supernatural power to prevent sickness.

In Roman times, the cross represented the horns of a sacred ox (bun/boun means 'ox' in ancient English). The Christian church later adopted Hot Cross Buns as part of their missionary conversion of pagans.

It is popularly dated back to the 12th Century that these buns were first linked to Christianity, using small spicy cakes stamped with a cross. It is said that families hung the buns from their kitchen ceilings to protect their households from evil for the year to come.

Me, I don't care either way - I'm just about to put on the kettle and pop one in the toaster!

One thing that puzzled me during my first Lent/Easter in Sweden was when I looked around and saw witch decorations everywhere – in the florist shop displays, in both the supermarkets and department stores, on greeting cards, quite literally everywhere! They had appeared suddenly along with the other Easter paraphanelia and were so pervasive I knew they had to be something special. These were not the scary, black robed, evil looking witches, but were quite charming and sweet decorations.

One day during Lent, while I was looking through my mother-in-law's linen press for a clean tablecloth, I found an Easter themed table runner decorated with bunnies, eggs, little chicks, pretty spring flowers, and – yes, you guessed it – witches! "Why witches?" I asked Lars-Göran.

"They're Easter witches." he replied in a tone that told me they were perfectly normal. Looking at my puzzled face, he said "Why? Don't you have Easter witches in Australia?"

I told him that witches were probably the last thing I’d think of in relation to Easter. He just shrugged. "We’ve always had witches, even in Finland when I was a kid." he said. "The kids dress up as witches and they come to the house on skärtorsdagen and we give them lollies." (note: skärtorsdagen is literally translated as "Pink Thursday" and is what we in Australia would call Holy Thursday and in other countries, Maundy Thursday)

WHOA! American-style Halloween on Holy Thursday??? I had to look into this.

As is often the case, in Sweden folk, pagan and Christian traditions have converged over the centuries to produce modern day practices that are taken for granted. It seems that the Swedes of yesteryear were deeply superstitious and they believed that when Christ was in the tomb between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, evil in the form of witches, flew freely throughout the country. Until not so long ago apparently, people hid from Good Friday until Easter Sunday, not even cooking or heating their homes for fear that witches would see the smoke and be attracted to the house.




The tradition of children dressing up as Easter witches dates back to the early 1800s in both Sweden and Finland. But the actual association between Easter and witches began much earlier. In a Swedish church in Uppland, there is a painting dating from 1480 portraying three Easter witches holding out their drinking horns to be filled by the Devil with a magic potion. It was believed that on Holy Thursday, witches (häxor) flew off for a rendezvous with the Devil himself at a mythical place called Blåkullen, which some believe is the island of Blå Jungfrun just off the coastline of south-east Sweden. There they feasted and danced to the singing of magpies (skator), flying back just in time for church services on Easter Sunday morning, where they might accidentally reveal their identities by saying their prayers backwards.

Along with the whole Christian tradition was also a deep longing for spring after a long, dark, cold winter. With the literal rebirth of the earth and Christ’s resurrection co-inciding, this was seen as a time for both a blessing and a wish for increased growth and prosperity in the coming months. So you get the tradition of people decorating their homes with påskris and also growing small containers of grass where the Easter bunny hides the eggs and lollies. Yes, it’s real grass, sold in all the shops in seed packets decorated with little chicks and bunnies!




As with the Christmas Lucia, over time I just fell in love with this tradition of cute little Easter witches and I look forward to the few children who still come around on Holy Thursday, dressed up to the nines, carrying their copper kettles or baskets and bringing their little Easter letters to exchange for lollies. I keep a stash of chocolate eggs and goodies carefully hidden from Lars-Göran so I have something to give them. These witches are called päskkarring or "Easter little old lady".




I saw that many children were streaming past on their way to the park in centrum where there was a costume judging and small, low key party. There appears to be a standard "witchy" look for the kids coming around. Most of them have bright spots of rouge applied generously to each cheek and scarves tied on their heads, Babouska style. They are all wearing aprons and a have a sprinkling of drawn-on freckles. They are quite endearing and utterly charming.




The local teenagers seem to have updated the witch tradition. I saw a couple of teenage girls at the bus stop near our flat. Both were sporting a serious Goth look in black leather, with stylised black eyeshadow and lots of silver chains. Come to think of it, maybe they weren't "dressed up" for today, but just heading into town for the movies.

One of the advantages of living in the country rather than the big city is that these traditions still live on here in their simple form and while several of my Stockholm friends report that they have never seen an Easter witch at their door, I can look forward to a few small groups of costumed children coming around with their copper pots, smiling faces ready to sing a song for some Easter goodies.

And there goes the doorbell now......

There were beautiful blue skies again today but it's quite cold, despite the sunshine. White frost heavily coated the ground this morning, just reminding us that the potential for a swift cold snap is still very real. But nothing can dampen our spirits as Lars-Göran's daughter, Madde returns from her three month stint in India tomorrow. If you hear a loud cheer coming from the vicinity of Arlanda airport tomorrow, you'll know that she has arrived safely - we can't wait to see her again. The whole family is getting together on Sunday and she has already emailed through her request for the dinner menu - I guess there were some foods that she missed while away from home. Boy, do I know that feeling. While Sunday is Easter, we will also use it to welcome her home and celebrate her birthday, so it will be an extra special family gathering. I guess I better shop early and avoid the last minute Easter shopping crush - dinner for a crowd will require a bit more than I'm used to buying.

There are a few Swedish words that raise a smile among English speakers when they first come to Sweden and I was reminded of one of them recently when I spotted this newspaper headline in the kiosk by the railway station.




That's a word that you never see in print in Australian headlines. I guess you are wondering what kind of technology they have in Sweden to photograph a fart and why anyone would want to do it. But in Swedish the word fart means speed, so now you can see that the headline referred to some new kind of speed cameras to be installed on the main highway leading into Nynäshamn - along the stretch of notorious "death roads", also known as väg 73 and väg 225. As an aside, I saw that somewhere we are going in summer has advertised a classic speedboat racing event that they have called "Classic Fartshow" and I want to go and let a few classics rip, but Lars-Göran won't let me near the place. I was hoping to find a link to the race, but there wasn't one - though when I googled "Classic Fartshow", they asked if I meant "Classic Artshow" - what a laugh.

Of course, we all know that police need the speed cameras - why? Well, ask an Australian:




You've just got to love Australian humour!

Speed cameras are an increasing part of the road scene over here as the fight to reduce accident rates continues. Looking at the new maps released by the highway department, it looks as though the Nynäshamn roads will be among the lucky recipients of the new fleet of cameras. There is no doubt that there are horrific accidents on the road between Stockholm and Nynäshamn. The road is narrow and windy and not made for the volume of heavy traffic it now carries because of the ferry traffic between Nynäshamn and Poland, Latvia and Gotland. People are either killed or badly injured on this road nearly every week.

A recent exhibit at a motorcycle show showed a graphic example of reckless speed and its tragic consequences.




Of course, you can see that the car has been cut apart with the jaws of life and now reassembled, but the damage is total. So what happened?

The accident took place at an intersection at Upplands-Bro and involved a car and a high performance motor bike. The Honda rider was apparently travelling at such a high speed, that his reaction time was not sufficient enough to avoid this accident. The Swedish Traffic Police estimated a speed of ~250 KM/h (155mph) just before the bike hit the slow moving car side-on at an intersection.




At that speed, they predicted that the rider's reaction time (once the vehicle came into view) wasn't sufficient enough for him to even apply the brakes. The car had two passengers and the bike rider was found INSIDE the car with them. The Volkswagen actually flipped over from the force of impact and landed 10 feet from where the collision took place. All three people involved (the two in car and the bike rider) were killed instantly.

This graphic demonstration was placed at the fair by the Swedish Police and the Road Safety Department. The sign above the display also noted that the rider was inexpierenced, having only recently obtained his license.




At 250kph (155 mph) the rider was travelling at 227 feet per second. With a normal reaction time to SEE-DECIDE-REACT of 1.6 seconds, the above rider would have travelled over 363 feet while making a decision on what action to take. In this incident the Swedish police indicate that no action was taken. I guess all three of them didn't know what hit them.



Anyway, it was a powerful image, though I can't imagine being the police and rescue force that had to attend such a horrific scene. One of our friends here works for the rescue service and they are often called out to these sorts of nightmares - I don't know how you can ever learn to look at it dispassionately enough to help out. I know I'd be a wreck myself.

With the Easter break coming up at the end of the week and thousands of people out on the roads for the holidays, please be very, very careful!

Sometimes we get lucky. But only sometimes. My weekend produced two glorious blue-sky early spring days, where everyone seemed to enjoy peeling off that outer layer of thick down-filled jacket and donning a lighter spring coat. Well, except me, of course. Not having wandered in the harbour area for a while, I wanted to take a little look to see what I could see.




Yes, clearly, things are warming up. When last I went down this way, I was valiantly trying to imitate some late season cross-country skiing. Today, however, there was not a spot of snow on the piers, not even in the shaded areas. In the rest of the town, the snow was retreating at a really rapid rate with only a few patches left here and there. Just compare the café area from the shot I posted only a week ago:




The forest area was alive with the sounds of woodpeckers drumming and in the main harbour, the flocks of sea birds are being swollen daily by new arrivals and the noise and frantic activity is fascinating to watch. I find myself just as intrigued by the aural aspects of the annual spring bird migration as I am with the more obvious visual spectacle. This chorus of bird sounds only occurs once a year. During the autumn migration, the males no longer need to attract a mate or claim any territory. So there is not the long, noisy calls in the autumn, even among the seabirds who are known to be loud. Everything seems to add to the charm of the spring landscape. As well as the bird songs, we start to hear the buzzes, chirps and tics of a multitude of insects. The trees, devoid of leaves in the winter, creak and pop in the arctic winds. But during spring the sound of wind pushing through the leaf laden branches seems to rustle and hiss. And the variety of birds is increasing every day.




I'd never really paid that much attention to gulls before. Of course I knew that they are more than "just seagulls," but they are so difficult to differentiate between the species and all I really remember about them in Australia was trying to keep them from eating my fish and chips. It seems that this feeding of the gulls is becoming an increasing problem as seagulls are getting fat these days. But here I see them as individuals rather than as a huge flock and it is easier to pick out the different types. My favourites are still the pretty silver gulls and when they all take off together, wheeling around in unison it is an uplifting sight.




On Saturday we also went to see Lars-Göran's youngest daughter who has moved out from home and into her own apartment, sharing it with several other girls. It is in an area south of the city, with a good, quick connection via the underground to central Stockholm. For us though, it was easier to take the train to Älvsjö and then a bus to her suburb. Along the way, I was thinking about the name Älvsjö - made up of two Swedish words, älv meaning river and sjö meaning either lake or sea depending on the location of the sjö.

It was more the pronunciation of the word that I was pondering. I know that a few of you are looking at it, not knowing where to start. My brother-in-law uses it as his "unofficial litmus test" to see how well a foreigner can adapt to the Swedish language. He used to meet a lot of international clients through the big exhibition centre located at Älvsjö. He would meet them in the centre of the city, show them the name of the station they should ask for and then sit back and see how well they coped with attempting the name. Even though I had the added advantage of hearing the name said, I still found it impossible to say when I first came, so I have a lot of sympathy for them. My first attempts were : Alvshu, Alvsfu, Elfwhirr, Elvshu, Elvwhoo. I bet it wasn't even close to what anyone in Australia is thinking.

My attempts provoked much hilarity in my family. The Swedish "sj" sound (which resembles the whoosh of rushing wind) is something that is not found in English, so we don't quite know how to correctly lower our tongue and open our mouth at the same time in order to get that echo-ey whistling effect. All English speakers mispronounce "sj" and I used to be really paranoid about it. I tried in vain to get Lars-Göran to teach it to me, using the simple word sju (seven) to practice. It went something like this:

Me: "Sju"
Lars-Göran: "No" (snigger)
Me: "Sju"
Lars-Göran: "Nope" (trying and failing to keep a straight face)
Me: "Sju"
Lars-Göran: "Mmmm...No" (tears in eyes)
Me: "Sju"
Lars-Göran: "Not really" (openly giggling)
Me: "Sju"
Lars-Göran: "Not even close" (almost bursting with surpressed laughter)
Me: "Sju"
Lars-Göran: "No" (turning a vivid purple)
Me: "Sju"
Lars-Göran: "No" (outright laughing)
Me: "For f**ks sake! I give up!"
Lars-Göran: "Good idea."

It had an impact on my life here while we were house hunting. Several places I refused to see outright because of the name of the street (Sjödalsvagen) or the street number (Sjutton - 17). I worried that I'd never be able to ask the way to the hospital (sjukhus), to sing (sjunga), to say that that the boat was sinking (sjunka) or to talk about myself (själv). And my only request when I got a mobile number was that it contain no number seven (sju) in it. Of course, over time I got used to the sound and my pronounciation improved, except when I had to throw it into a sentence, when the tongue twisting used to trip me up. Thank goodness I never had a pressing need to say "sjuttiosju sjösjuka sjömän sköttes av sju sköna sjuksköterskor" (sevety-seven seasick sailors were nursed by seven fair nurses)!

Anyway, the visit went well and Lambi was thrilled to see Annelie.




The apartment is a large, spacious, airy, light five roomed place in a fairly quiet area very close to the underground station. The area is one that a lot of the more stuck-up and clueless expats here would say is "full of immigrants" (read: dark skinned, therefore undesirable as neighbours) without even seeing the irony of that statement. However, what I see is cultural diversity and certainly the place is well located. It was amazing to see her in this domesticated surrounding, confidently making tea and coffee, preparing lunch, watering her plants, showing us her new crockery, chatting about the window-sill herb garden she has started and getting excited that her chives were sprouting. This is the girl who never lifted a finger at home and in fact I can't ever recall seeing her wash a dish in the time I've known her!




And here she is making a home for herself and revelling in it. She was fifteen when I came and will turn twenty-one this year, so I guess it is an important growing and maturing time in one's life and why I see so much change in her. Sometimes it can be hard to equate this poised, mature, thoughtful young woman with the prickly, angry, rebellious teen I first knew. Though I still had the almost uncontrollable urge to tell her to pull up those jeans! What is it with the need to display such a generous view of one's underwear? Or am I just (heaven forbid) turning into my mother?

Easter and Spring time in the northern hemisphere are inextricably entwined. While in Australia, during April we would now be donning a woolly jumper and coat, preparing those warming soups, hauling out the brollies and watching the darkness and cold appear, up in the north of the globe, this time of year is associated with the awakening of the natural world after months of hibernation.

When going out for a walk to the supermarket yesterday, I took the longer but prettier route through the woods and was lucky enough to be able to enjoy all the signs of that emerging season. The bofink (chaffinches) have returned from southern Europe and were merrily trilling in the birch trees. There were koltrast (blackbirds) busy building a nest in the cherry tree. Some bergfink (bramblings) were hopping around at a bird feeding table outside a small house. These common small birds are just so eager in their song that it makes you glad. Further along, I heard some sheep bleating, I noticed the bright yellow and cheerful tussilago (coltsfoot) sprouting up everywhere and the dappled light added to the feeling that yes, spring was on the way.




According to the bureau of meterology in Sweden, it is officially spring when we have five consecutive days with the temperature above zero. For us in the middle of Sweden, that is now, though sadly not for poor Darren who lives in Norrland. (*snigger*)

Throughout the centuries, Swedes have had their special ways to help hasten spring’s advance. This is where the idea of decorating the home for Easter arose. The first Easter I spent here, I was puzzled by what appeared to be arrangements of dead twigs with fluro-coloured feathers attached to them. These were to be found everywhere - even in the most tasteful and minimalist of homes. These apparently became popular in Stockholm during the nineteenth century and subsequently spread to the whole country.




As in the word fika that I described last post, there is no single English word for these påskris. Most dictionaries translate påskris as "twigs with coloured feathers used as a decoration during Lent". I have been threatened with instant divorce if I dare to bring them into the house, but other Swedes can buy them practically everywhere this time of year. Every marketplace has bunches of these birch twigs with fluffy and gaily-coloured chicken feathers. The idea is that you take them home, put them into a vase of water and very soon, aided by by the spring sunshine and the wonders of central heating, the sprigs burst into tender green leaves.

We never really went in for Easter decorations as such in Australia. We made hot cross buns and bought chocolate eggs and bunnies or bilbies but for a lot of Australians Easter is just a four day weekend where you go camping. If you lived in Sydney, it was also time for the royal show. I had a catholic upbringing, so there was more of a religious tone to the time, but the only "decoration" my mum would allow in the house was the olive twig that was blessed by the priest on Palm Sunday.

You also have to remember that it is autumn there, so the symbols of new life are perhaps not appropriate. It is a different story here where the colour yellow dominates and there is a dizzying array of accessories to dress up your home, all of them rejoicing in the birth of new life. One of my favourite flowers also appear about now - the tulip.




I am allowed to have tulips in the house, so I take advantage of that fact and relish in their beauty while I can.

I had a strange exchange with a young man yesterday while passing a bus stop on my way in to the supermarket. He was studying the bus timetable and turned to ask me which of the listed buses passed by centrum. I took a quick glance at the list and told him that the 860 went directly along the road where we were standing to the train station, but that the other buses all turned and passed by the area he wanted. He looked at me for a second and opened his mouth to speak. I was expecting maybe a "Thankyou for your help" but instead I was surprised by him saying "You're not Swedish, are you?" What do you say to something like that? He asked for directions, I gave them to him. In the same circumstances I would never dream of saying something other than thank you. I just shrugged and said "No, I'm Australian. But I do know the buses as I have lived in this town for a few years." and I turned and continued on my way.

To finish with a smile, I've listened to Carola's schlager entry for Eurovision in English (requires Real Player). Obviously she took my advice and ran that translation by someone else, so the made up words are gone. Instead she is singing about things being "invinciBALL", "unbreakaBALL" and "insatiaBALL", which cracked me up. I can see a plethora of ball jokes breaking out among the English speakers here once they hear that song.