PS: Never can say goodbye...

As I said to my friends, it is merely See You Soon and not Goodbye, and I can’t completely leave Sweden without mentioning a little more of the mischief that went on there. It was just 4 weeks ago I arrived, but with everything I have done since, it could easily seem like an eternity. Airports come and go, and already I am 6 flights away, trying to remember everything that happened.

Coming from Copenhagen on the train, I busied myself with iPod Swedish lessons. Combined with my acquired knowledge of the language on my Summer trip, I thought I had it covered when I wanted to interrupt someone and ask for help. Thank goodness I stuck with “Prata du engelska?” (Do you speak English?) instead of what I thought was “Excuse me”. I almost told a complete stranger to “Shut the hell up” because håll käften and ursäkta sound quite similar (despite obvious differences in spelling), and I was really nervous.

Nevertheless, I arrived without offending anyone, and was already back where I left off with my Swedish friends. It was still Kalmar, but now it was Kalmar with snow. We threw snowballs at each other on the way to the student bar on Saturday night, and the big stone ball by the mall wasn’t rolling in its watery base any longer. Instead it was frozen, motionless, and I toyed with the idea of sitting it on vodka instead of water for year-round movement. Then I remembered I was in Sweden and was overcome with images of the local licking the fountain.

We didn’t stay in Kalmar long, opting for a cheaper 6 hour bus to Stockholm in preparation for Christmas and New Year. I was fortunate to have the hospitality of the Hedberg family in both Stockholm and Mariefred, where I spend my first White Christmas. I had sent my letter to the North Pole and was well and truly inundated with my wishes coming true. As previous photos have shown, flying down hills on a Snow Racer and trotting through the forest on horseback are a far cry from my usual BBQ in the park for Christmas, but it was a completely unforgettable experience that I don’t think I would have traded for the usual given the option.

Back in Stockholm, the snow-covered balcony was the perfect spot to watch the New Year’s Fireworks, all of which are completely legal, unlike Adelaide where even weak little sparklers were banned from outdoors at the risk of starting a fire in the 40-plus heat. We took a walk by some of the many waterways, where thin layers of ice and snow hid the waters and boats were frozen into position at their moorings.

So I’ve covered the snow, Christmas, New Years, and a few other things. The more I do, the more I want to remember every day - and yet the last few weeks have slipped by, and the journey is almost at an end. The pictures help tell the story, but they don't always cover everything. Now, I think it’s safe to move on to Latvia, which I did just over 1 week ago…

Hejdå Sverige

Swedish Eye Candy

I like looking at wallpaper. I've never lived in a house with wallpaper, but there is a LOT of it in Sweden and it's REALLY COOL. I think it's because I like patterns. Bright patterns. Some people think they're too loud but I like them screaming :) I would spend all day in interior stores in Sweden because (a) they fill me with happiness and (b) it's -18 outside.

On my travels I've come across a few illustrators that caught my eye. The latest one is Ingela P Arrhenius. I can barely afford anything she's created but I did manage a small notebook, because I have hardly any notebooks and I needed a new one *cough cough*. Here it is, isn't it just so... Swedish? Snyggt!

Some of Ingela's work:

Another place that I could spend all day in is Svenskt Tenn. I wasn't prepared to sign over my first-born there either, but I did employ my "browse-diamonds-at-Tiffany's-and-buy-a-keyring" technique, resulting in a very flashy gift bag. I think the lady on the bus thought I was pretty fancy.

Sveskt Tenn is where you can indulge your Josef Frank fantasies. Wallpaper, fabric, lamps, foot stools and tea trays in all the patterns you could want. Staying with my friend Rebecca at her parent's house didn't help me much - her mother has great taste. Thank goodness she reminded me that I needed an Elephant lamp and a Manhattan map stool, I'd forgotten all about them!

This is my last day in Sweden, and I depart with a heavy heart and a very light purse. I spent the last 2.5 weeks having an absolute ball, thanks to my favourite Swedish people. As we said, it's not goodbye, just See You Soon!!

Christmas Eve

What English Lacks

One of the best things I've collected this year is words. With so many friends from all over the world, speaking some pretty interesting languages, you begin to realise that despite the superfluous lexemes existing in our lexicon, we sometimes have to use many words where some countries have figured out just one.

One of my favourites so far is hygge. One of the fundamental aspects of Danish culture, hygge doesn’t have an equivalent word in English. Some translate it as ‘coziness’ or ‘tranquility’, but it’s more than that. It describes a state of mind, an atmosphere, a little space full of the good things in life. Hygge is a complete absence of anything annoying, irritating, or emotionally overwhelming. When you’re on the couch with someone special and the fire is roaring and you’ve got hot chocolate, that can be hygge. When you’re lying under a tree in park on a summer day, the sun warming your face, listening to the wind through the leaves, that’s hygge.

With Denmark’s long, cold winters, you can understand why Danes would want to cheer themselves up a little with some candles and a good chat with family or friends. Hygge and Christmas are closely related in Denmark – Danish does not have a word for Christmas, and use Jul to describe the season. It has pagan origins, a winter feast, and food is often a good part of hygge. Jul provides lots of opportunities for hygge - Gingerbread cookies or a hot cup of glögg are almost instant hygge, provided the setting is right.

Swedes have a similar thing, but they don’t call it hygge. Swedish and Danish are quite close, they share many traits and words, but not even Sweden has hygge. Sweden has fika.

Swedes drink coffee. On average, 4.5 cups per day, the highest in the world. Fika isn’t about drinking coffee, just like hygge isn’t about any one thing either. Fika is like a mini-hygge, a chance to take a break in a busy day and enjoy some good conversation over a drink. You can’t eat too much, otherwise it’s called lunch, or dinner, but you can enjoy a cinnamon bun with your coffee. It can be short, like a work break, or much longer, stretching over hours as you catch up with an old friend.

If you’ve ever been to Ikea, you might have noticed they sell a lot of candles. Scandanavian people love candles, and candles are one of fika and hygge’s best friends. Many houses don’t even have overhead lighting, it’s just too harsh. At Christmas, you just light the Adventsljusstake, the Advent candles that sit in everyone’s windows. Of course, having candles in the window all night can be a little risky, so you can buy electric ones. And that’s what I plan to do today, find an adventsljusstake, on REA (sale). And cram it into my suitcase so I can enjoy Christmas in July later this year.

And maybe a little hygge. I love that word.

Summer in the City - Svenska

Kalmar Slott (Castle)

In my effort to catch up on all my adventures, and eventually arrive at a point where my writing is not 6 weeks behind actual events, I bring you to Sweden. I've mentioned previously my Swedish friends, a Yatzee-loving bunch who I shared my Normandy adventures with: our trip to Mont Saint-Michel, to Honfleur, and the "amazing" Bayeux Tapestry.

On Friday July 10, I left Edinburgh, bound for the city of Kalmar, where my friends study at University. The flight landed 4 hours away but such is the kindness of the Swedes that they still picked me up from the airport. Flying in over the forests and lakes, then driving late into the night while the sun remained low in the sky was an incredible experience (which I soon got over when the sun rose again at 3.30am).

The street at sunrise, 3.30am

Amanda, Thomas and Sofia had an itinerary planned for my stay, a recurring feature of which was our night-time festivities. A trip to Systembolaget was first on the list - it is the only store in Sweden where you can buy alcohol, a complete monopoly on the market (besides a few low-strength beers in the service stations). We also took in the local design culture at Ikea, where I ordered my hot dog and soft-serve ice cream in Swedish. And so began my education in the local language...

One day in Caen, I'd surprised the others by learning a phrase on the internet: Var kan jag hitta någon som talar engelska? (Where can I find someone who speaks English?) This was of course hilarious, as you would expect (?!). In Kalmar, 'speaks English' soon became 'poops', 'has a little penis', 'has navel lint', etc etc. Thomas and the other boys delighted in teaching me ridiculous words that I would innocently repeat at the expense of my pride. Unattractive people were inget att hänga i julgranen (nothing to hang on the Christmas tree) and håll käften was thrown about repeatedly.

We had a jazz brunch one morning, followed by an express tour around the town. We stopped in at the Kalmar Slott (castle) and relaxed with a glass of wine at Byttan. Sunday night was spent at the Strand bar on Öland, and we returned to the island for a road trip a couple of days later.

Road Trip on Öland

Byttan!

We cooked dinner together each night and even more Swedish friends joined us - Johan and Martin were our partners in crime for much of my stay and just confirmed my Swedish racial stereotypes - good-looking, friendly and a lot of fun! I even swam in the freezing Baltic Sea, if you can call a 1 minutes dip a swim. But all good things must end eventually, and luckily for me, where Kalmar ended, Gotland began.

Sweden's Ibiza, Gotland is an island popular during the Summer, and even more popular the week I was there. Of course, an Australian is always cause for a party but this was out of control. It was Stockholm Week - typified by the young rich (or the rich's young) who take Daddy's boat and sail to Gotland, where they cover themselves in champagne and dance in bikinis under mirrorballs on the deck of their boats. But I wasn't there for their company. Rebecca was my attraction, the one missing from Kalmar, who was working on Gotland.

I was met with a sign at the Visby ferry terminal, and we tore around the village in Becca's car (ok, drove slowly and sensibly). After 5 nights of parties in Kalmar, Visby was a welcome relief. We had quieter nights, played Thai dominoes and had another road trip to a different strand to lay on the beach (the water was no warmer here). We ate a traditional Swedish dinner with Becca's parents when they arrived by boat, and sat back to watch the brats disrupt the usually quiet marina. It was great to see Becca again, and meet her friends I had heard so much about in Caen.

The gorgeous Mrs and Miss Becca

Delicious Swedish shrimp salad

I left Gotland via ferry for Stockholm, where I spent one night before flying out to London. It had been just over a month since I'd seen my Swedes, but I was glad to see them again and sad to leave. With a little luck I will be back in the fall, but without a doubt I will be crashing their Christmas celebrations and hanging them on the julgranen in time for some decent snowfall.

Coming soon...