Swedishness

So they're shooting a number of scenes for the upcoming Hollywood blockbuster version of The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo by Stieg Larsson here in Uppsala. So exciting! In case you live in a hole, this book/movie is one of a trilogy and it's awesome. I discovered it a few years ago, before the Swedish version of the movies were made and now Hollywood. So that makes me cool, edgy and avant-garde. Unfortunately, at the time, they only had the first book translated so I had to wait rather impatiently over the course of two years for the remaining two to come out in English.

Kind of sad though because the poor author died after handing the trilogy to his publisher. He never lived to see the success it had become. Did I mention Daniel Craig is playing the lead, Mikael Blomqvist, and the leading lady was a role sought-after by a number of Hollywood starlets but secured by a relative new-comer? Good for her! Anyway, the buses all have signs on the back saying Drottninggatan (a street in the old town) will be closed between such and such a date for filming the movie. Cool. The other day I forgot and had to detour but seeing some 1930s cars parked along said street was reward enough for the extra 10 minutes it took me to get to little man's school. Waiting to run into Daniel Craig now. I have a feeling we're gonna be BFFs.

Went to a Swedish kid's birthday party the other day. Another low-key affair. Hot dogs, ice cream and cookies for five kiddies. Such a stark contrast to the excess in the Americas.

My desire to learn the language has waned. I definitely feel guilty for being here for almost two years and not having progressed much. I'm also consistently reminded of this character deficiency when groups of acquaintances no longer speak to me in English, figuring I MUST know the language by now. Geesh. And I should really. But I'm just not "into it". My mind and my heart are elsewhere. Kind of like I'm subconsciously checking off days on the calendar until I can leave.

You really need to check the labels on meat here when you're out grocery shopping. They leave dangerously-close-to-expiring meat on in the fridges. I dig to the bottom for the good stuff. And what's with Stina's Chicken anyway? Seasoned frozen chicken pieces in an oven-proof tray that make dinnertime a cinch and are pretty popular here. But to open it up and still find a few feather bits hanging off your meal? Not cool Stina, not cool.

If you believe election results and the media, apparently at least 300,000 Swedes are racist. Big election here a few weeks ago and "shockingly" enough, an openly racist (some may argue this point) political party called the Sweden Democrats got a little over 5% of the vote and now have a few seats in parliament (they needed a minimum of 4% I think). The government is unfortunately a minority government so the ruling party or the opposition actually need to cooperate with this other party if they want to get anything done over the next four years (which both have said they wouldn't). Anyway, there's been a huge uproar in Sweden over this, everyone "shocked" and "dismayed" that this could happen in Sweden. "Everyone" banding together to condemn this "horrific" result and many are very embarassed. Basically, this party wants to put an end to immigration or extremely tight sanctions on it claiming Sweden is no longer Swedish, immigrants are stealing jobs from Swedes, etc.

According to many, Sweden has had a very lax immigration policy. There are actually towns here where Middle Eastern immigrants outnumber Swedes by huge margins and people feel that integration within society is virtually non-existent as immigrants tend to reside in certain areas, areas that "Swedes" avoid. I will say that every time our company has posted a job opening, 95% of the applicants are of Middle Eastern decent. To me, that says they're having a tough time.

I've read a lot of blogs and English media coverage on this subject and have come to the following conclusion: 5% of your voting population actually voted for this party. It seems you have a problem with immigration and no other party is addressing it so those that have a problem with it are turning to this "openly racist" party as they have no other options. Maybe you could do something about it? To the benefit of Swedes and immigrants alike? I'm not smart enough to know what "it" is but smart enough to know that something needs to be done. In case you're interested, have a look at Hairy Swede's blog and read through the comments to see how heated this issue is: http://welcometosweden.blogspot.com/2010/09/swedish-elections-in-us.html

Now I remember what I wanted to focus on in this blog post, but gotta get to work, so next time: IKEA!

Somewhere warm?

Ahhhh...wouldn't that be nice. Yesterday, the little man and I went puddle jumping all the way to the park. He had his snowsuit on but with the sun shining and a balmy 5 degrees, he could have gone with his rain suit and should have. His winter boots are NOT waterproof, as evidenced by me having to wring them out when we got home. Spring was on its way...hooray! We could see the grass and realized we have a deck in our front yard.

Today, it started to snow. Bucket loads. It "blizzarded" (made that up) all day long. Just when I was ready to pack away the winter gear, the snow is now back to knee deep. In my hometown in Nova Scotia, it was 20 degrees yesterday and apparently people were sporting shorts.

But I say it's "Out like a lion" here in Uppsala. Only because I have to believe that next weekend we'll be puddle jumping again.

And in a few short months we'll be heading to a REAL summer in Montenegro. C'mon JULY!

A Swedish Friend? Say it ain't so!

Last weekend hubby was making snow forts for the little guy in our front yard when he noticed a blonde woman 2 doors down and caught her eye. She stared, he smiled, waved and said, "Hi. We're new here." She stared some more and said, "Wait right there." Hubby didn't have his glasses on. 30 second later she was hugging him.

Our new neighbour just so happens to be a girl we worked with over 10 years ago! Don't get too weirded out. We were working for a Swedish company at the time but living in Canada. Still...holy crap!

I drove in the driveway, back from a quick trip to the store and hubby runs over with his shovel, "You'll never guess who our neighbour is!" She's 2 years younger than me and has a daughter a little less than a year younger than ours and a 6-year old son. SCORE!

I saw her a few hours later over the fence and we started chatting. I said, "We need to get together for coffee." And then I thought that the likelihood of that happening was slim to none and so I got bold and proclaimed, "We're gonna head over to the park tomorrow morning. We'll come knocking if you want to come."

The next morning, I fretted and panicked a little, trying to figure out a good time to knock. 10 is too early. 10:30? Nah...10:45? perfect. Far enough after breakfast and far enough away from lunch. Done.

I rang, we walked, we talked, we took the kids sledding. Turns out she is Ms. Uppsala and I met half the neighbourhood in the short distance between our houses and the park. Striking GOLD!

It was fun. I tried my best to balance between, "Please be my friend. I'm so desperate for more estrogen in my life!" and "Yeah, whatever." We parted ways and I thought..."How will I get up the nerve to ask her out again?" Yup, just like dating.

And then Thursday night, I got a text around 8:45pm. Noone texts me that late. It was her, asking if I like Grey's Anatomy and if I wanted to hop over to her house to watch it over a glass of wine. Say WHAT? I've never watched that show, but I'd watch a documentary on Dairy Farms in Minnesota if it meant snagging a friend in Sweden.

It was fun. Even with a little wine in me, I think I managed to leave a good impression. We know many of the same people and she's a tiny little ball of blonde fun.

Now it's the weekend and it's on me again. hmmmmm...coffee and a playdate here or keep it neutral at the park? I've already decided that when hubby is away next week, I plan to have a "Come over for a glass of wine after the kids are asleep" night with her and some mutual "friends".

Seriously freaking out here. Olive branches have been extended. Now it's up to me to evenly space out the doses of "Jenn" for fear of scaring off my prey. Please wish me luck and pray I catch my prey!

First Advent

I've been complaining a lot about how lonely it is in this country and how it's so hard to make friends cuz the folks here are, to put it politely, reserved. To put it bluntly, Stuck Up.

But today I was reminded of how blessed we are to be here.

Today was the 1st of Advent. For a not-too-religious country, they sure take the four weeks leading up to Christmas very seriously. I don't know of anyone, save us, that doesn't have four advent candles (on my shopping list). Every Sunday a candle is ceremoniously lit in every house until Christmas Day; here's it's the 24th, when all four are glowing.

Swedes are big on tradition. Today we were invited to spend the day celebrating with our adopted Swedish family and their real family. We celebrated a daughter's birthday, a cousin's immigration to Sweden from Armenia and the 1st of Advent. As is customary in the weeks leading up to Christmas, the food was "Julbord", which means Christmas Table. An array of yummy foods including ham, this amazing scalloped potato dish called Jonsson's Surprise, pickled herring (it was seriously to.die.for), red beet salad and of course, meatballs. And those are just the highlights.

There were too many of us to count.

And after we feasted, we migrated along with the rest of the townsfolk, to the botanical gardens to witness the annual 1st of Advent firework display. Even amidst a heavy fog, it was impressive. The little guy was in awe.

These reserved Swedes truly astound me when it comes to preserving age-old customs and celebrating as a community. I should also mention we partook (is that a word?) in "Julmarknad", which means Christmas market, in downtown Uppsala yesterday. "Since 1287". Yup, that's how long they've been doing the Christmas market. Outdoor Christmas Craft Fair with pony rides and a petting zoo for the kiddies. Well worth shivering for.

But it wasn't the Jonssons or the fireworks or the white pony or even the wine. It was being a part of centuries worth of tradition with our Swedish family. As they have for over 10 years now, they wrapped us up in their inner circle. We were the only non-family there and that, my friends, was a very special blessing. Today we were far from lonely.

Toilet Humour. In Sweden.

Permit me to be crass or vulgar for a few moments. Now, if you're reading this and you're Swedish, well you may not see this post as either.

Now "apparently" here in Sweden, it's perfectly fine to make the business you have going on in the bathroom public knowledge. It's ok to announce exactly what you plan on doing when you head on over to the toilet. And if you have a raging case of diarrhea, feel free to let your co-workers in on the frequency and consistency.

Was having a discussion on all that is the washroom with my Swedish teacher, who happens to be from Armenia. Not exactly sure how we got on the subject but there we were. Now in Armenia, if you need to "go", you never actually use the words "toilet", "washroom" or "bathroom". Even if you're a young student in class and need to be excused to take care of your business, you just ask the teacher if you can leave the class. Noone questions your destination. You could be going anywhere really, to meet up with your bf for a makeout session, grab a quick ciggie with your friends or home for a nap. But it is assumed that if you're asking to "go", it means, well, you're on your way to the bathroom for a #1 or a #2.

Uttering any such word associated with what comes out of your body is taboo.

Where I'm from, we DO indeed say the words "bathroom" or "washroom" or not-so-frequently "toilet" when we need to go. We're a bit more specific on that front.

But I cannot imagine an occassion where I turn to my co-worker in the middle of frying up some burgers and exclaim matter-of-factly, "Gotta run and take a dump. Cover my station for me? Be back in 5 or 10 depending on how hard I have to push and how intriguing my reading material is."

Apparently that's the way it is here in Sweden though. My appalled Armenian friend, a real classy young lady btw, explained to me that her co-workers, whom she is not particularly close with, frequently update her on their bathroom habits. They didn't share a womb, don't necessarily share the same social circle and have really only known each other for a year or so. But, "Dominika, can you run this sushi platter over to table 4 so I can take a shit? That's the last time I'm mixing a litre of Absolut with Tomato Juice."

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

Another expat girlfriend recently told me her boss called in sick the other day. "I have diarrhea so bad I've been on the toilet all night." Let's give her the benefit of the doubt here. Maybe she was really playing hooky. You know when you're pretending to be sick, you always give WAY too much detail about your illness in an always failed and exagerrated attempt to convince your boss and others that you really are sick? Never works.

But c'mon people, who goes THAT far?

Well, by all of two accounts so far, the Swedes do. Fellow Swedes, am I right here? Can we extrapolate these two isolated incidences to a national epidemic? And if so, what the hell? Keep your shit to yourself. Pun intended. :-)

The Great Swedish Haircut

So I've been procrastinating on hair maintenance...severly procrastinating..since this past March procrastinating. My roots are a few inches long and my hair was down past my bra strap. I personified trailer trash and couldn't live with my greasy-looking but not greasy hair a day longer so I bit the bullet. What bullet you ask? Just book an appointment, you say.

I'm convinced hair salons in this fair country are criminal organizations. Every time I take my son or my husband or my big son to the hairstylist I want to scream at the absurdity of the prices. Average salons here charge over 250 SEK (that's like 40 CDN dollars) to cut my little boy's hair. My husband's hair, we're looking at 350+. My hair cut was gonna cost me 400 SEK..do the conversion. You don't want to know how much colour costs. But I'm gonna tell you anway...around 2000 SEK (that's $277 USD!) at an average salon.

I've been holding out because I've not-so-secretly been longing for a week's vacation back in our old home of Montenegro, where'd I'd be paying a max of 70 euro for a beautiful colour, cut and style. Focus on that last word for a moment...style. I'm still half holding out...I decided, at the very least, that I needed to CUT this shaggy mop.

When you leave the hairdresser, don't you expect to walk out feeling like a million bucks? I mean, who can do our hair better than a trained professional, right? The soft, silky, glowing, frizz-free, fresh-out-of-a-magazine hair style...ahhhhh...

I am NOT CHEAP. I tip generously too. But yesterday afternoon was a different story.

She cut my hair...quite a few inches off so now it just rests on my shoulders. And then she proceeded to finish me off. But no happy endings here. WTF was she doing? First she sat me under one of those helmet dryers. Then she comes at me with a heat-blowing curling iron. The result was a fuzzy, frizzy mess. And she has the nerve to monkey around in it with her fingers, like she's putting finishing touches on it or something! I guess her fingertips must be numb as she's obviously NOT feeling that my hair is still HALF WET.

The word "anger". "Please help me understand the hair styling process here in this country. Back *home*, when we pay for a haircut, a hair style is included in the price. Is that not the case here?" - "Oh yes," she replies. "Do you not use round brushes?" "Yes, we have them".

I honestly don't see one anywhere. If you have long hair, like I do, you fully expect the hair stylist to blow your hair out with a round brush and sometimes even use a flat iron. How else can you get it to look flawless?

What I should have said, in hindsight, was "Would YOU leave this salon with your hair looking like THIS?" There are a lot of things I should have said but I was boiling over with rage and wanted to get the hell out of there and home to my family, who experienced my wrath, and my flat iron.

Hair stylists in this country are likely the best paid and treated in the world. They get their five weeks vacation just like everyone else. They also have special chairs they sit on to cut your hair (which I think is smart because I have a lot of friends who are stylists that have problems with their backs and legs). In Montenegro, hairstylists are likely the worst paid and work the hardest and still, for 7 euro I can get an amazing wash and set from a talented girl whose arms are like steel from roundbrushing hair all daylong.

And yes, I fully expect to pay more in a country with a higher standard of living, an expensive country.

Hair stylists in this country are just plain LAZY. You're probably wondering if I encountered this before at different salons. And yes, I have. Three to be exact. So I am full justified in painting them all with the same round brush.

These pretty girls need to get their shapely butts over to Montenegro, or America for that matter, and take a few lessons. The next time I won't be walking away with pent-up frustration and without leaving a tip. The next time I will leave a tip: I will demand a round brush, a blow dryer and show them how it's done.

Off for 6 weeks...

I wish! Seems everyone else in this country is though. Inspired by a fellow Swedish expat blogger, A Swedish American in Sweden (sorry but it won't let me link for some reason), I decided to post on this "issue". For all those unfamiliar, every Swedish citizen is entitled to between 5 and 8 weeks paid vacation per year. GASP! You read it right. And it gets better. You're also entitled to take 3 consecutive weeks during the summer months. It doesn't matter if you're working at the local supermarket or leading the country.

Now for us North Americans, unless you're fortunate enough to work for the federal government, expecting or taking that kind of vacation time will leave you with a pretty pink slip on your desk.

So one wonders...how on earth does the country survive and business thrive with so many empty desks during the months of July and August? Beats me. The birthplace of Sony Ericsson, Skype, Volvo, Scania and so many of the world's leading brands and inventors, Sweden somehow manages and manages well.

So what am I doing with my 3 consecutive weeks of vacation this summer? Well, not only did we just arrive here in January but we work for a small start-up and leaving for 3 weeks would likely kill the company. Not being naive or egotistical, just stating a fact. And here I sit blogging and green with envy as I watch the middle class jet off to country homes, hot European destinations and even expensive trips to North America.

To add insult to injury, Sweden also has 13 public holidays per year, called "red days" (by comparison Canada has 5 national holidays). Oh and the day before each of these public holidays is either treated with a "defacto" extra half or full day off.

So some say the Swedes are lazy. But I think these naysayers are jealous (I sure am!). In my humble opinion, Swedes know something we don't know. They work to live. They turn off their phones, take their vacation and enjoy their time away, guilt-free. They know their jobs will be waiting for them when they return and that the next holiday is just around the corner.

Nice eh?

image credit: swedish-flag.com

Stalking Will Ferrell

Sweden is cool. No doubt about it. Cool people (fashionable blondes bicycling around Stockholm), cool scenery (The Archipelegos), cool history (The Vikings!), cool social system (free healthcare and post-secondary education anyone?), cool holidays (Midsummer and the most public holidays probably in any country in the world), cool candy ("Bilar", translation: Cars; slogan: "the most purchased car in Sweden"). I could go on.

But I just found out one of the coolest, most hilarious dudes on the planet "summers" in Sweden, just outside of Stockholm. And no, it's not Tiger Woods, who married a beautiful Swede (he's on the golf course..duh). It's the star of Old School, the originator of the words, "More Cow Bell!", the founder of the website Funny or Die! and my favourite, The Anchorman (The Legend of Ron Burgundy).

Will Ferrell married a Swede, Viveca Paulin and aptly named his two sons the ultimate of Swedish names, Magnus and Mattias. He's quoted often saying his favourite place is his summer cottage in Gnesta, Sweden.

My mission this summer: Visit this town and find Will Ferrell.

Ok, that's "stalkerish" and although I'm a fan, I won't be found hunched over in the bushes with a pair of binoculars or casually strolling past, with my camera or have my car/bicycle/limb randomly break down in front of his cottage.

But I will be on the lookout for a random sighting next time I'm in Stockholm because he's one of the cool things in Sweden.

Image credit: Wikipedia

A bicycle named Desire

Ok, so I felt bad that my first official blog post was a repost, especially after the flood of ideas suddenly came for posts. The most recent was me cursing the guy (or gal) who decided to switch the direction for activating the windshield wipers. Was there some kind of survey out where people actually said the action of turning off/on your windshield wipers should be reversed? When you turn on a light, which direction do you flick? You flick up, right? And "down" is for, you guessed it, OFF. Well who's the wise guy who decided the upward motion should now signal off? Damn him or her. It's become a stressful affair, activating those damn wipers...is it up or down? I always get it wrong...

I digress...
The last time I rode a bicycle I was eight years old. Maybe ten. Twelve MAX. In my mind bicycles are for kids, athletes, outdoorsy people and the uber environmentally conscious, oh and bike messengers. I'd see a kid undergoing that all-important rite of passage: Dad pushing the back of the seat, kid about to keel over any second screaming, "Wait, don't let go". The peddling gets faster, Dad's running, kid still screaming but steady and Dad lets go. Kid almost freaks from panic but then the smile of pride and not a moment later, head first into the bushes...I remember my banana seat fondly.

We moved to Sweden in January. We've been here many times before (long history of working with Swedes). Bicycles proliferate the small university town we now call home. They are THE mode of transportation for everyone from small kiddies to senior citizens. They have special parking and lanes on the road for bicycles. And if there's no lane on the road, there's a dedicated side of the sidewalk. Bicycles also have the right of way. But don't picture mountain bikes or cool BMXs. Sit-up straight bicycles, a la Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, complete with the basket up front. Add a kid either in a seat on the back or being dragged in this cool little tent-like contraption with wheels. To say it's engrained in their culture is a fair assessment.

EVERYONE has a bike. Well except for us. And that didn't bother me, up until recently that is. "Oh, just take your bike X way". "You can park your bike there." "It's 10 minutes by bike". "What do you mean you don't own a bicycle?" When I have to go somewhere more than a 15-minute walk away, I hope in this motorized vehicle called a car (that emits carbone dioxide and kills the ozone, contributing to global warming). Then hubby had our only car one day and I had to pick up the little tyke from preschool. So I walked. I walked 30 minutes in the heat. I was fine. Sweaty, but fine. Good exercise, I said to myself. And then they started whipping past me: hot Swedish girls, old Swedish women, middle-aged Swedish men and it began, "Imagine how much quicker I could get to Joe's preschool with a B-I-C-Y-C-L-E?" Plus, I kinda felt odd when I arrived and the teacher sized my sweaty self up and exclaimed, "Oh, why didn't you take your bike?"

So that's it. I'm converting. Handlebars, a bell and a nifty little basket for me. Plus a seat in the back for the little guy. I hope that saying is accurate, "It's like riding a bicycle, you never forget".

My first post...a repost

Hi there folks! Welcome to my little cyberspace. Now that I've actually "done it", ie. gone and got myself a blog, I'm lost for words. uhmmmm...Gone are the days when I'd say to myself, "See, if you had a blog, you could ramble on about this or that or the other thing". And here I am, an official "blogger" with no ideas for a blog post. Cripes (slang for "Christ" where I come from and obviously a better choice of word, kinda like "frig" is to the dreaded F word).

Yup, still here and still devoid of inspiration. I guess I understimated the responsibility that comes with being a blogger. Like going to your hubby's office party for the first time. All you keep thinking about is making that ultimate first impression. You try on a zillion different outfits, practice your smile, handshake and opening line. Promise yourself you're only gonna have 1 glass of wine. You wonder what people think of you. Are you the prettiest wife there? You better be! Then you get there and feel completely unprepared or wonder what you were so worried about in the first place as you down your 5th glass of wine....

Nobody needs to know someone's entire life story on a first encounter, do they? So instead of giving you the 411 on who I am, what makes me tick, my religious beliefs and my favourite flavour of ice cream, why not start off somewhere in the middle. Here's a post I wrote for my Facebook "fans" awhile back. We'll start here and go back to the beginning some other day:

Swedish Berries...
No, I didn’t write this list in one shot. I’ve been updating it every day for the past little while and decided to post it now for fear it got even longer. More updates of an Expats Life in Sweden to come so stay tuned.

• My favourite candy like EVER. And nope, there’s no such thing here.
• And the “Swedish massage”? Sorry men. That was made up to conjure fantasies of gorgeous blondes rubbing you down. A myth. They laugh when you mention it.
• But the Swedish meatball? Yup, it exists, they’re delicious but here, you eat them with lingonberry jam...ewww.
• Ok, so I found furniture polish...it’s the cream variety. I miss Pledge. Update: Found Pledge!
• I thought my dishwasher broke down. Hubby turned some water diverter valve thingy. I am so smart, I figured it out.
• I thought my dryer was broke. Friend came over. She’s better than any man. Apparently, it fills up with water in this dispenser type thingy and you have to empty it. Everything is powered by hot water here. She also figured out that I do in fact have a lightbulb in my fridge...hidden of course.
• Traffic lights? Nope. It’s all about the “roundabout”. For all you Haligonians, think about the dreaded “Armdale rotary” which screws everyone up. Times that by a million and you have smooth flowing traffic.
• DO NOT SPEED. They will take away your license. Period.
• All I have to do is come within 20 feet of a crosswalk and the cars slow down and stop. It’s a Christmas miracle.
• Son is watching Swedish Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Little Einsteins, etc. No English channels . Talk about learning fast.
• You know that sound you make when you’re surprised by some news...you take in a quick breath? News like a friend won the lottery or your Great Aunt Harriet died? They make that noise constantly when they’re chatting away on their mobiles. I keep waiting to hear some exciting/dreadful news when they hang up. Apparently it means “ok” or the Swedish equivalent to the Canadian “eh”. I can let the air out of my lungs now.
• "Claudia has BASKET today” means “Claudia has basketball today”. Basket is short for Basketball in Swedish. We use the “ball”.
• You go for a cup of coffee around 2pm and realize it’s the same pot you brewed at 8am. That’s what their coffee always tastes like. Take the amount of grounds you put in your machine and times that by 3.
• Caviar is the Swede’s peanut butter. Though it’s not classy. It’s bright orange and comes in a tube. You squeeze it out like toothpaste. I love it.
• Some smarty pants invented a little plastic thing that acts as a quarter for the shopping carts. How many times have you gone to the store and realized you don’t have a quarter for the shopping cart? Take along this plastic thing and never worry about bumming change from strangers again (unless of course you forget the plastic thing).
• Remember in high school we had “Days”? Like today is Day 4 which means I have History, French and Math? Well this entire country functions on a DAY system that has little to do with days of the week or dates. I still haven’t figured it out. When I asked the clerk at IKEA when they would have what I wanted in stock she said, “Day 27”. Uh..what?! We musn’t forget RED DAYS...those are national holidays..they have A LOT of them.
• Unless you go to some fast food joint for lunch, ALL restaurants serve a lunch buffet. You can’t order off a menu and have to serve yourself cafeteria-style. It’s weird. Did I mention that everyone and I mean EVERYONE owns and drives a bicycle, everywhere?!
• I made my first trip to the liquor store and boy was it a TRIP. I just came from a country where you could buy alcohol anywhere (from grocery stores to kiosks) to a Canada-like country where they have a liquor commission. Ok, so I’m used to that. The kicker is that I walk in and bottles of wine and spirits are displayed on the walls behind glass cases. I’m instantly confused. I stand back and observe. Ok, that guy just took a number from that machine. Take a number from the machine. The number on the big board has changed to 217 and the man walks up, talks to the lady behind the counter, she goes out back and produces a few bottles. He pays. He leaves. The number changes to 218. I walk up to the lady. Ah, so I must tell her what I want! I do. She comes back with it. We do the exchange. She asks me if I want a bag (which I must pay for). She HANDS me the bag and I must pack my own liquor. Inneresting. Hubby says it’s like the olden days in Canada. Caveat: Not ALL liquor stores in Sweden are like this. They are starting to transform into LCBO-like mega stores. Thank God. I felt such shame in there.
• Turn up the heat people! Oh wait, you CAN’T. Is it too much to ask to be WARM in your own home? Everyone here has the same heating system. It’s hot water pumped into your house to power your radiators in every room. It’s cool, it’s energy efficient. The problem? It only goes up to 3! I’ll pay the bill. Just give me a knob that goes up to 10! My feet are always cold and I have to wear sweaters in my house. This is not cool.
• The stores here close early. Friend said it’s their labour laws. Need Internet support? Better call before 9pm (even earlier on weekends). The local grocery store closes at 8pm and they advertise, “Open Late”!