Rob's Life in Sweden

Motion Blur Life

2010-11-08T14:55:00.003+01:00

I'm trying a new thing: publishing daily random videos, each one under a minute, over at http://motionblurlife.posterous.com.

I call it Motion Blur Life.

Lux Aurumque

2009-12-21T14:32:00.007+01:00

Last night I was in Gnesta, Sweden listening to Annie sing with her choir, the Södertälje Kammarkör. Saturday night Annie and I saw Avatar in 3-D, which blew me away with its incredible visuals, but it didn't touch me emotionally nearly as much as the choir's performance did last night.

Annie smiles as she appreciates the applause between songs and consults her scores.

I've uploaded two performances to YouTube (see below.) The first is a more traditional Christmas tune, "Silent Night."

The second is a less traditional tune called "Lux Aurumque" by American choral composer Eric Whitacre. Over a year ago Annie showed me this song on YouTube and I thought it sounded pretty, but the sound coming out of my computer speakers didn't prepare me for the lush, innovative sound I heard last night at the live performance. I heard many in the audience whisper to themselves, "Wow!" just before applause broke out.

Unfortunately, the on-camera mic can't do justice to the sound of the choir, but it'll have to do for now. Enjoy.

Narnia

2009-12-18T09:39:00.005+01:00

Snapped on my walk home from school earlier this week.
Click for full size.

Sunny Stockholm from a train

2009-12-02T20:31:00.003+01:00

Took some cell-phone video during my commute into Stockholm. It was actually sunny today. This is the last one minute into Stockholm's Central Station on the train from Södertälje. The trip is 40-odd minutes one way.

In this footage you'll see the iconic Stadshuset (visible in the still frame below), some of the water flowing around and through Stockholm and a little bit of the train station.

Don't know what happened with the sound. Make train noises with your mouth as you watch it.

Good Day Sunshine

2009-12-01T00:23:00.001+01:00

"The month of November was one of the gloomiest on record in Stockholm, meteorologists said on Monday, as the Swedish capital registered only 17.5 hours of sunlight for the entire month. The sun shone on average for only 35 minutes a day during the month, the Swedish Meteorological and Hydrological Institute (SMHI) said." From TheLocal.se.

Really?

Maybe it's because I moved here from Seattle, but I actually didn't notice this.

The month flew by anyway and it was anything but gloomy for me. If this was the gloomiest month on record sunlight-wise, I'm gonna be fine here.

Fade Out

2009-11-20T10:06:00.004+01:00

With very short notice, the only movie theater in Södertälje has been shut down.

For me and Annie this is especially sad since our very first meeting was there in 1988. My memory is that I was already sitting in the theater with a few friends including our mutual friend Karin when Annie joined us. I was 17, Annie was 16.

As soon as I met and spoke with Annie, any interest I might have had in any number of girls I knew at school immediately vanished. A few days later I was walking through downtown Södertälje and saw her through the window as she was stocking greeting cards in a grocery store. Somehow I got the courage to go in and talk to her. Soon after we started hanging out.

Anyway, I could go on about the rest of our summer of 1988, but my point is that when we learned about the closing of the theater, Annie said I had to go get a photo or video of the place we met before it's gone forever.

I did that, and also took the opportunity to put together a news report on the theater's closing like I used to do early in my online media career during my years at azcentral.com. I'm going to use it as a work sample as I apply for jobs here in online media. You can see the video at the bottom of this post.

The exact spot where we met can be seen 50 seconds in. To you it will look like... a totally boring shot of a row of seats. Which it is, if you have no memories tied into it. I also sneaked in a shot of Annie and me around the :37 mark.

I don't remember what movie we saw at our first meeting, but I think Annie does. We also saw Dirty Dancing here in 1988. The last movie we saw here was Pixar's Up, which, if you've seen it, is very fitting.

Simple Swedish - Episode 1

2009-11-16T17:44:00.005+01:00

Everything in this video is true -- and hilarious!

I forgive them for misspelling "choice" since, as the man says, his English is still much better than your (my) Swedish.

It starts with some chuckles about Swedish words that look or sound like naughty English words, but my favorite part of the video is the fairly straight-forward grammar lesson that starts at 3:26.

It's snowing!

2009-11-05T14:27:00.005+01:00

It's snowing? You'd think that wouldn't come as a surprise to me seeing as it's Sweden in November. But it feels I just arrived yesterday.

Yesterday was May.

I'm closing in on half a year here and other than the job situation (although I'm making progress there), all is wonderful.

I guess one reason I haven't written more often here is that my daily experience is becoming less about an American seeing Sweden through fresh immigrant eyes and more about large changes in my personal life. Writing about my personal life is a little tough for me in a public forum. (Even with hardly any readers.) It's just feels too... personal!

Ah, what the hell. Personal is usually more interesting anyway (I hope), so I'll let you in a little...

I moved to Sweden to be with Annie, the love of my life. Six months in, nothing about our feelings for each other has changed except that we're even deeper in love, we know each other better as people, we're learning how to become partners in everyday life, we're learning how to handle rare disagreements, we're more excited about our future than ever.

After 20 years apart and then literally over a year communicating with 4,700 miles between us and a few visits to each other, for us it's still an amazing thing that we can simply share lunch together.

We're grateful that things are going so well and getting better all the time. As much as we knew how much we love each other, there certainly was no guarantee things would work out as well as they have. We know we're extremely fortunate.

The biggest change in my life here isn't the language or the weather or the food. It's two little girls whom I've gotten to know and love since I arrived. Annie has two daughters, 6 and 7 years old. They're wild, cute, loud, musical, annoying, endearing, intelligent, vibrant and I can no longer imagine my life without them.

There's not enough time for me to detail how my relationship with them has developed and enriched my life over the last six months, but I can say a few things:

I'm not called a step-dad, I'm called "bonus pappa", and I feel like I'm the one enjoying the bonus of getting to be a part of the girls' lives.

They run at full speed and jump into my arms with huge smiles when they see me on the street. They snuggle with me on the couch in front of the TV. They ask when I'm going to marry their mom and seem to like our plans to marry next year. They make me laugh so much.

Annie is a wonderful mom to them. Much more wonderful than she realizes. There's no way I can do justice to how hard she works, how much she gives of herself and everything she does to give the girls a happy life. All I can do is spend the rest of my life doing all I can for the family as well and afford Annie opportunities to take some time for herself.

I have to also say that their dad, whom I've yet to meet formally, although we've bumped into each other a few times, seems like a great dad. He certainly has never said or done anything to the girls to make them feel uncomfortable about me in any way. I'm totally grateful for that.

Last night, for the first time, I put the girls to bed as Annie was at choir rehearsal. I helped each girl with her homework, fed them their nighttime snack, carried them around the apartment on "roller-coaster rides", got them to put on their pajamas, refused to turn on the TV after 8:00, made sure they brushed their teeth and listened to them fall asleep.

Millions of parents do this every day of their life. This was my first time ever!

After all that, I think the highlight was when the oldest girl got out of bed, came to me and said, "Rob, I forgot - I need you to sign my homework."

She needed a parent's signature and could have easily waited until morning to have Annie sign it, but I was proud to get to sign it myself.

So, lately, things like setting up a fish tank with the girls has had a much larger effect on my life than noticing some trivial cultural difference between Sweden and the USA.

More to come...

Tidbits

2009-10-03T11:04:00.013+02:00

Been a while since I've posted. I've been busy trying to get my business off the ground: Smash Cut Media.

The American Discovery-Channel TV show "Dirty Jobs" is translated as "Skitiga Jobb" in Swedish. Literally: "Shitty Jobs." Every time host Mike Rowe says "Wow, am I dirty", the Swedish subtitles read, "Wow, am I shitty!"

The summer was wonderful. Loved the weather, loved the constant light, most importantly loved being with my love. My birthday was last week and it seemed to signal the true beginning of Autumn: It's fast getting cold and dark. Already freezing overnights. The sun is setting earlier and rising later. Shadows at noon are very long because the sun is so low in the sky. But I'm looking forward to bundling up and cozying up for the winter.

Whenever I see this sign anywhere, I chuckle. You can look up its innocuous meaning. (Click any photo for a closer look.)

I have absolutely no idea what this does. It's on the wall of my bathroom to the right of the mirror above the sink.

Every Swedish bathroom I've seen has a towel rack like this. The house's hot water supply runs through it and keeps your towels toasty. Same with the bathroom floor, at least in my apartment: it's warmed by hot-water pipes. At first I thought, wow, what a luxury item. Then I realized it's likely an indicator of the chilly winter to come!

Thank heaven for The Beatles. The remasters sound pristine! This is the stereo set. Someday I'll also collect the mono because I'm that much of a Beatles geek. :)

Public thrashing

2009-09-06T11:20:00.009+02:00

When I lived in Sweden in 1988, I was obviously exposed to people's varied preconceptions of Americans.

There was the mom of the family I stayed with for two weeks in Eskilstuna who upon first meeting me promised I could have hamburgers every day and as many showers as I wanted to take.

For whatever reason she believed that would make me feel at home: daily burgers and two, three showers a day.

Some automatically thought I was cool, others assumed I'd be arrogant or ignorant, and of course there are Americans' preconceptions of Swedes that I've heard numerous times in the States. You can't make generalizations about it -- everyone has their own ideas and preconceptions -- but one question I heard over and over from a particular demographic of Swedish pre-teen boys in 1988 was "Where's your gun?"

It seemed to never fail. If the boy was around 12-14 years old, he'd quickly ask me about my (non-existent) gun. They always wanted to know where I hid it on my body.

It's easy to see where they got this idea when you see Cops, CSI, Sopranos, etc on Swedish TV. Sure, you've also got shows like Seinfeld and The Cosby Show, Friends and America's Top Model, but pre-teen boys aren't paying much attention to those shows.

One preconception people generally don't have about Americans is that they're shy. In certain circumstances, I am. I have no problem meeting new people and socializing at a party or an event, but when I get onto a train with Annie amid a bunch of strangers, I don't speak "American" at my normal volume level. I do find myself keeping my voice down and trying not to get noticed.

And, to be clear, it's not being noticed as an "American" that bothers me, it's just being "noticed" at all. I'm the kind of person who, if I moved to the American South, wouldn't like being noticed for my northwest American accent. So it's not a matter of "American vs Swedish" it's "me vs being noticed."

But the other day I heard what I thought was a little girl, maybe 6, crying so loud that the sound reached from the park across the street, over the loud traffic noise and through my fourth-floor windows. I went to my balcony and looked out to see it wasn't a young girl at all, but a boy, maybe 8 or 9, being bullied by a group of about six boys.

There were a couple of young moms with a toddler trying to get them to go away, and the bullies kind of half-ignored them, but the boy was able to get away and start across the street. He didn't run, he just walked and cried.

After a moment, the group of boys went across the street and started roughing up the boy again. Not smacking or hitting, but just pushing and pulling him. I didn't see what they did to cause his initial crying. Some of the group also started vandalizing a store sign, smacking it around and trying to do some damage.

I put on my shoes, took the elevator and headed out on the street toward the group. As I got closer I could see that the bullied boy had disappeared and the the group of six were at the most 12 or 13 years old. One was quite large for his age, another was wearing a "tough" bandanna on his head -- laughable to an adult, maybe, but if I were 9 I'd totally be intimidated and scared by them. Especially if they picked me to bully.

As I approached I could see their body language and facial expressions of arrogance, entitlement, general "bully-ness."

And then, in a moment that, among other things, proved to me I'm middle-aged, I scolded them loudly. In American English.

The looks on their faces were priceless. As I launched into "What the f*(K do you think you're doing beating up a little kid like that?" their faces contorted quickly from shocked, to confusion, to fear.

I made sure to use the f-word a lot, because that's a word they'd definitely recognize at their age, and I finished by speaking just four words in heavily-accented Swedish: eller jag ringer polisen! "...or I'll call the police!"

If they had been any older or younger, I probably wouldn't have said a thing, but I was bothered by what I saw and heard, so I went to check it out.

And those boys were just the age to wonder where I might hide my gun.

Saltsjöbaden Beauty

2009-08-24T21:02:00.007+02:00

Okay, so a few weeks ago, I wrote a post called Södertälje Beauty in which I wanted to dispel my town's not-so-glamorous reputation by posting a few pretty pictures I snapped on a walk here.

Shortly thereafter my new Facebook friend (and Annie's choirmate) Mariann invited Annie and me to stay at her place while she went on a trip to the Himalayas.

Mariann's place is in Saltsjöbaden, a part of Sweden near Stockholm with a reputation that would never need to be dispelled. It's absolutely gorgeous.

Annie and I were fortunate enough to spend two wonderful weekends there with perfect weather in an awesome house. Thanks for the free vacation in your lovely villa, Mariann!!

Annie relaxes with a magazine.

Pool and neighbor's place.

View out kitchen window.

The "back yard"

Moonrise over Saltsjöbaden

Juvenile chuckles

2009-08-24T20:42:00.005+02:00

I laughed out loud when I saw this sign:

Later when I came back to snap a photo of it, some tourists were also laughing out loud at it, and they weren't even from an English-speaking country. I think "slut-spurt" is funny in any language. Sure, it's juvenile, but still funny. :)

So "REA" means "sale." And "slutspurt" means "end of sale" in this case. It's also used to mean "the last big push" or "the final lap" in a race.

By the way, the President of the USA's name is pretty funny in Swedish: a "barack" is a ramshackle hut!

You can't go home again

2009-08-24T20:17:00.006+02:00

I attended three different high schools (and was unfortunately the new kid during my senior year...)

Anyway, my favorite year was my junior year as an exchange student in Sweden when I attended Täljegymnasiet in Södertälje, pictured above.

For 20 years I remembered all the happy memories of my experiences there and was thrilled to realize I can see the school from my apartment balcony.

But my memories now exist in a school that no longer exists. The building is still there, but it's been renamed from Täljegymnasiet to "Colin LeClairgymnasiet".

What?!?!

I didn't even get a chance to visit my old school before it was erased from the map.

Won't you be my neighbor?

2009-08-24T19:51:00.003+02:00

Three months in to my new life in Sweden and I definitely feel I'm settling in. It's really beginning to feel like home.

Today I went into Stockholm to meet up with my American friend Jennifer who's here participating in a triathlon. We were co-workers at Microsoft in Redmond, Washington.

I had a great time chatting with her and catching up. When we left each other in Gamla Stan I headed back toward central Stockholm.

It was a beautiful day, perfect weather and all of Stockholm was available for me to explore. I looked around at this gorgeous city and quickly said to myself, "Eh... I wanna go home."

I love Stockholm, especially on beautiful days like today, and I'm sure come winter I'll regret not taking full advantage of today's weather. But I've gotten to the point that I finally realize and believe that I actually live here, mere minutes from Stockholm, and can visit it anytime I want.

In my own neighborhood here in Södertälje, I'm on what I call "nod-and-hello status" with a bunch of locals now. There's the guy who owns the grocery on the corner; the owner of the used-furniture store another block away; residents of my apartment building and Annie's.

There used to be a guy I called "smoking man" who I greeted every day outside my building as he puffed on cigarettes until one day I saw workers vacating his apartment across the hall from mine. These weren't movers, they were more like junk-removers hauling stuff out of smoking man's apartment in large black plastic bags.

I don't know exactly what happened to smoking man, but I fear it's something more permanent than an eviction.

Södertälje Beauty

2009-08-04T10:58:00.012+02:00

Södertälje admittedly isn't thought of by many Swedes as the most beautiful town in Sweden. Or even a beautiful town at all. I've heard a few times since I've arrived, "You left Seattle in America to come to... Södertälje? Why, of all places, would you choose Södertälje?"

The most important answer is that this is where my love lives, and I'd move anywhere to be with her no matter where she lived. But another answer is that I really like Södertälje and was excited about the idea of living here ever since I realized it would become a reality.

I spent a year here in the late 1980s and forged happy memories of the people I met and the friends I made that haven't waned in 21 years. And there are other things I genuinely love about the feel of the city I could explain in many paragraphs, but today I want to prove to doubters that there is an abundance of beauty in Södertälje with these photographs.

Annie and I took a walk after dinner yesterday. I grabbed the camera at the last minute, not sure what I'd snap. Click any photo to see a larger version.

Snapped from the boardwalk after grabbing an ice cream cone at... McDonalds! (McD's is the building at the extreme right of the photo.)

A shot of the "Ejdern", the oldest coal-powered boat in the world (still functioning.)

Closer shot of the Ejdern.

Annie on our walk.

Me on our walk. I can see the candies, ice creams, wine and food of summer vacation in my chubby cheeks. Time to cut back...

Snapped as we walked across the drawbridge over the canal.

AstraZeneca, the largest employer in Södertälje

Full moon, blue sky out my apartment window.

Motion-blur Annie in the stairwell of my building.

Blonde theories

2009-08-01T22:43:00.006+02:00

Annie arranged for me to meet an accountant today who's helping me start my business here in Sweden. The meeting took place in a cafe. Before I left to meet the accountant, I asked, "How will I recognize her?" Annie replied, "Oh, she said that she's tall and blonde."

Tall and blonde?

Okay, well... in other places that might narrow it a bit, but not here!

Speaking of blonde, I was in the grocery store recently and noticed this shelf of women's hair dye. Notice anything?

That's right: The only available shades are blonde!

So I have two theories about this: Either blonde is all that sells and many of the beautiful fair-haired ladies I see around town are getting assistance with their shade, OR...

...the natural blondes want to change their color and are buying out all the darker shades, thus leaving only blonde shades on the shelves.

I hope readers understand this post is written with my tongue firmly in cheek. The photo is real and I just thought it was funny when I noticed nothing but blonde, but since I snapped it, I've noticed one other shade on that shelf: Roasted Cinnamon.

I also recently encountered a young woman with long, jet-black hair who stopped me to ask for directions. After I successfully told her the way, she walked quickly ahead of me. It looked like she had a big Friar Tuck bald spot on the back of her head. I quickly realized it was her natural blonde roots.

People seem always to want what they don't have...

Choir Weekend

2009-07-28T15:53:00.010+02:00

Saturday Annie and I headed out to a cabin literally in the middle of the woods. I borrowed her dad's car and we drove through beautiful curvy Swedish landscape as the roads beneath us changed from freeway, to country road, to gravel street until finally it was just a muddy path between evergreens.

The cabin is owned by Kerstin, a member of the Cappella Catharinae choir in Stockholm who every year arranges a get-together at her cabin along with a concert at an old church nearby called Lids Kyrka. I believe it was built in the 1200s. (Photos.)

We had lunch outside with the group, about 14 of us, then headed to the church for the rehearsal and the performance. Annie still partakes in this traditional performance even though she hasn't been an official member of the choir for a few years. This year she was asked to solo on Ave Maria:

When we returned to the cabin the plan was to have dinner outside, but it started raining. I went out to help rush chairs and tablecloths into a nearby barn. I was keeping my head down to avoid raindrops on my face and smacked the top of my head HARD on the very low door frame of the barn as I ran inside. Instant headache, and for a few minutes I thought maybe I shouldn't drink any wine tonight, but then threw caution to the wind and got happy as everyone else.

We ate wild boar, potatoes, salad, two kinds of cake, bread, cheese... yum!

About six of us planned to spend the night and as the sun dipped I started to realize the cabin had no electricity except for enough solar power to run a small refrigerator and one light in the kitchen. When Kerstin announced she was turning off the water pump for the night I realized there was no running water either. I had already used the outhouse, which was not nearly as bad an experience as I might have imagined.

After a lot of talk by candlelight and more wine, we called it a night. The next morning we had a nice breakfast outside.

Then I was presented with a task that made me realize just how easy my life has been, manual-labor-wise, as I spent two hours hand-washing dishes using soap and water boiled on the stove top.

I was a little hung-over and grumpy during the job, but only had to look around me at the setting and at Annie to realize how lucky I was to be there.

Back to "work"

2009-07-22T14:51:00.005+02:00

The blog's been silent for a bit because I've been on vacation with Annie until this past Monday when she went back to work.

The blog will be updated with a few thoughts, photos and videos in the coming days.

In the meantime, I'm getting back to work on a Swedish documentary I'm editing. Here's my Final Cut Pro setup, temporarily housed in Annie's apartment.

Where I live

2009-07-11T11:56:00.006+02:00

Just found Södertälje's official web site in English today.

Here's the city in numbers.

Today I'm visiting the #1 tourist attraction in town: Tom Tits Experiment.

Rainbow over Södertälje

2009-07-07T20:12:00.004+02:00

Currently outside my window:

Can you see the double rainbow? Click for larger image.

The rainbow appears to be shining directly on Stadshus (City Hall.)

Midsommar 2009, Agnäs: Days 6-8 of 8

2009-07-06T21:52:00.008+02:00

Wednesday, June 24: Much of today we spent enjoying the sunshine and the river behind Annie's Aunt Liv's house:

Actual photo of actual calm river

I was able to check my email over a mobile internet connection at Liv's place and discovered that I received an offer on my house back in the States. I had to sign and fax paperwork to my realtor asap.

Not an easy thing for me to do in the village of Agnäs. Thankfully my resourceful fiancee immediately shifted into gear and showed me how things work in a small town.

First, we walked to Uncle Peppe's place because he has the one solid internet connection (and printer) in the family. It took his old PC a number of minutes to start up and his printer another 10 minutes to print the pages.

I signed the papers, then Annie and I borrowed a car to drive up to Bjurholm, not too far away. We went into the one place that was open, which was kind of a convenience store.

Annie told the guy behind the counter we had to send a fax to the U.S. He replied, "O-kaaaay..." then led us to the back of the store and showed us the fax machine the store uses for business.

I faxed my papers and took the confirmation sheet to the front counter where the guy made up a price on the spot for a 9-minute fax to the States. I think he charged 20 kronor, about two-and-a-half bucks. Not bad!

Thursday, June 25: In the early afternoon, I borrowed a car and drove up to see my new friend Anders and talk about editing his documentary.

Later I followed him to a berry-processing plant where he had arranged to shoot some local colorful characters. He wanted me to come along because one of the employees is an American named Chris who arrived in Sweden just recently, like me.

Shooting a colorful character for Anders' documentary. Not Chris.

Chris' story is a little different from mine, as to how he arrived here. He met his Swedish wife 20 years ago when she was an au pair in the States. After living together for 20 years there, she convinced him to try Sweden for a while.

I also met my Swedish (soon-to-be-)wife over 20 years ago, but it was in Sweden when I was an exchange student in Södertälje for a year. We were sweethearts then, but when I left in 1988 we lived separate lives until we found each other again.

Thursday night we enjoyed a fun barbecue at Uncle Peppe's place:

Closer view

The wine was flowing free and after I had enough to do something silly, I started playing with one of the kids' toys that was lying in the yard. It was a kind of flying Tinkerbell toy that consisted of the Tinkerbell doll and a base with a string. You put Tinkerbell on the base, pull the string, she spins, her wings open and she flies into the air.

I loved this thing.

I pulled the string and watched her fly. Pulled the string harder, watched her fly higher. Harder, higher!

Then I thought to myself, "Hmm, I wonder how high she'll go if I raise my hands quickly at the same time as I pull the string?" I had to try.

Ziiiip! Fweeee!

"Wow, she's flying so high!! She's coming down... she's..."

Fwap!... Sizzle...

"Oh. No."

Tinkerbell landed right in the burning fire pit. Many people sitting around said fire pit saw it land in the fire, including the mom of the girl to whom Tinkerbell belonged. As I stood there with Tinkerbell's base in my hand, guilty as sin, mom quickly reached into the flames and threw Tinkerbell to safety.

I went over to check Tinkerbell's condition. She was intact, but her hair had burned down to a nice, literally smoking crew cut.

Now all I could think about was how mom would have to explain to a little girl that Tinkerbell has burn damage because the nearly 40-year-old man wasn't careful when he was playing with her little girl's toy.

But it was so cool to fly!

Friday, June 26: "Michael Jackson has died," said Aunt Liv matter-of-factly as we walked into her house. She had one of Sweden's national newspapers, which had pages and pages on the King of Pop's demise.

Annie saw Michael in concert in June 1988 in Gothenburg, just before I returned to the States.

The rest of this day we enjoyed more of the sunshine and river, then packed, got on an overnight bus and headed home.

Dead weight

2009-07-06T21:40:00.004+02:00

Here's the stuff I've been carrying in my wallet from the U.S. that I can no longer use:

It feels like it weighs a half-pound. I wonder how long it will take me to amass a similar amount of wallet plastic here in Sweden. I already have my Södertälje library card. My Swedish ID card should be on its way.

(The Paul McCartney photo is actually a Starbucks card.)

Two shout-outs

2009-07-06T21:31:00.004+02:00

As I was walking with Annie across a busy intersection in Södertälje today, we suddenly heard someone shout, "Welcome to Sweden, Rob!"

I turned to see it was my old high-school friend Daniel, whom I hadn't seen in 21 years!

Daniel was driving and stuck in traffic and unfortunately I couldn't stop at the moment to say more than a wave and a surprised hello, but it was very cool to see him out of the blue like that. I'll give him a call soon to see if we can catch up.

Shout out #2 for today: Happy Birthday, Annie! Grattis på födelsedagen!

"I know Kung-Fu."

2009-07-01T15:41:00.010+02:00

There's an infamous scene in The Matrix in which a large cable with a needle-like interface is shoved into a receptacle in the back of Keanu Reeves' brain. Uploaded into his brain are all the skills he needs to be a Kung-Fu master, which he explains to the audience in the whispered monotone delivery of the line:

"I know Kung-Fu."

I don't know Kung-Fu, but spending a week up in the north of Sweden with people of all ages possessing varying levels of English skills has given me a huge bump up in my Swedish language skills not unlike a shot with a big needle in the back of my brain.

"I know Swedish." ;)

I was once fluent -- at least for a 17-year-old. I was 16 when I arrived in Sweden in August 1987 for a year as an exchange student. Being immersed in the culture and attending Swedish lessons twice a week in Stockholm allowed me to communicate 100% in Swedish by that Christmas, four months later.

Between 1988 and 2009, I had hardly any opportunities to use my Swedish and a lot of it seemed to fade away. But it's all there somewhere deep in the files of my operating system and the last couple of weeks I've been able to run errands, go shopping, answer questions and generally communicate 100% in Swedish.

I still have a long, long way to go before I consider myself fluent: Reading a newspaper is still a challenge; people on TV generally speak too fast for me to pick up what they're saying, but I can babysit a 7-year-old for a day (which I did recently) and communicate with no problems.

I've also discovered that in slightly stressful situations -- being in a hurry or simply stuck in a situation in which I must speak Swedish -- the words come out without consciously thinking about them, like how most people speak their native language. Afterward I'll realize I just said something in Swedish that I didn't remember I had forgotten how to say... so to speak.

So, maybe I'm speaking almost at a 7-year-old level at this point. Less than six weeks in to my new life here, I'll take that!

Midsommar 2009, Agnäs: Days 2-5 of 8

2009-07-01T14:18:00.013+02:00

Saturday, June 20: Slept in, then lunch, then Annie and I joined her mom and sister-in-law for some yard work at her mom's house. Most of her mom's family owns property and houses in Agnäs, even if they live most of the year in other parts of Sweden.

Dinner that night was at Aunt Liv's house. Another day of sun, fun, family, food and relaxation.

Sunday, June 21: "Fika" at Aunt Anna-Lena and Anders' house. Fika is the Swedish term for coffee break. It can be as simple as having a small cup of coffee, to a large gathering with many home-made sweets.

Annie and I enjoy fika.

Anders is Aunt Anna-Lena's boyfriend and a well-known television reporter on the Swedish network SVT. I met him a couple weeks before Midsommar at Annie's cousin's graduation. We got to talking and I shared my interest/experience in video production, specifically my desire to find work professionally as a video/film editor.

Turns out he's been shooting a documentary about life in the north of Sweden and the characters who live in the village in which he grew up. The stories he told me sounded funny and interesting and next thing I know he hands me 25 one-hour tapes of footage to edit into a documentary! I'm looking forward very much to working with him on the project.

Monday, June 22 and Tuesday June 23: Annie and I walked to the cabin in the below picture which is owned by her grandma. It used to be the spot where everyone gathered to celebrate Midsommar.

Closer view. (The red building.)

Inside it was like a time capsule, with all the furnishings and wall art intact. There was a bulletin-board in the kitchen with a picture of Annie as a teen tacked to it. Despite the cabin's stagnant state, it smelled fresh inside and I felt I could have stayed there as it stood with no problem.

I remember a fun story from these two days as well: The family drove from Agnäs to Umeå to visit another aunt, almost an hour-long drive. I borrowed an old diesel Citröen Xantia from Uncle Peppe. The only way I knew how to get to our destination was by following Annie's dad in his Ford Focus.

As soon as Annie closed her door, I saw an annoying bug on her window. I asked her to let it out. She pushed the button to lower the window and it escaped. Then she pushed up and... nothing happened. We had to continue to follow her dad or lose our way.

Luckily it was a warm day, but the wind was blowing all over the inside of the car, messing up hairstyles and causing havoc. I tried pushing all the window controls on my driver-side door and nothing worked. Finally we got a hold of Uncle Peppe on the phone and he told us we could get the window back up. Here were the instructions:

First, the driver has to get out of the car.
Locate a sock-like thing between the door and the chassis.
Push "up" on the button for the driver-side window (not the button for the passenger-side window, the one that was currently stuck down.)
Touch the sock-like thing between the door and the chassis at the same time.

I thought Uncle Peppe was crazy, but next thing you know, the passenger-side window went up and we were on our way.

Midsommar 2009, Agnäs: Day 1 of 8

2009-06-29T19:56:00.008+02:00

Celebrating the Swedish holiday Midsommar in the village of Agnäs with Annie and her family was a blast. Highlights of each day:

Friday, June 19: After snoozing a couple hours to recover from the nine-hour overnight bus trip from Södertälje to Agnäs, we walked to an old school house in the village. The house is now occupied by a large family and the property surrounding it has become the main celebration spot of Agnäs.

There were horse rides for kids, live bands playing traditional and modern music, hot dogs and ice cream, a booth where kids could "fish" for a bag of candy, a raffle, dart-throwing contest... and in the center of a large grassy area, the traditional Midsommarstång.

Click for full view

It seemed like everyone in town was there, and everyone knew everyone else. Annie bumped into many old acquaintances and friends. When she introduced me to people, I was greeted with kindness and a welcoming vibe.

Only a couple people were surprised and curious about the American in the village, but I think most already knew I would be there with Annie this year -- thanks to the small close-knit community and its fast-traveling news from family to family.

When the traditional songs were played, people (mostly kids and grandmas, it seemed) danced around the pole, hand-in-hand, with flowers in their hair. Each song had its own dance.

After a few hours of celebration and relaxation, we walked back to Annie's grandma's house for dinner.

Around 11pm that night, with the sky still light-as-day, Annie and I walked to a place where, in recent years, people have been gathering the night of the Midsommar celebration to have pizza and drink a lot of wine and beer.

As we approached it seemed no one was there, but suddenly we heard the sounds of laughter and singing. We walked in and were quickly handed wine glasses, which we happily filled many times.

It was LOUD inside, with the main event being singalongs chosen from songbooks accompanied by a man playing acoustic guitar. I listened as the group sang everything from Swedish tunes to popular American pop tunes. The one that raised my eyebrow the most was the group singalong to "I Will Survive!"

Shortly after 1:30am, we crashed back at grandma's house.

Radio silence

2009-06-22T14:54:00.002+02:00

Apparently I'm in the 2% of Sweden where my mobile internet connection doesn't work, so I'm borrowing a different mobile internet connection here in Agnäs at the moment.

When I return to Södertälje Saturday 6/27 I'll update with stories, photos and video of the very cool Midsommar celebration/vacation I'm enjoying this week.

Midsommar

2009-06-18T11:00:00.004+02:00

Friday is one of the most important holidays of the year in Sweden: Midsommar.

Tonight we're taking a nine-hour bus trip up north to Bjurholm to celebrate with Annie's family.

I'll update the blog with photos and hopefully video depending how my mobile internet connection does up there.

First haircut

2009-06-17T14:36:00.013+02:00

Nothing could make me feel more like a child than needing my girlfriend to accompany me to the salon to tell the hairdresser how my hair should be cut.

I probably would have done fine on my own, but I didn't trust my Swedish skills -- or the hairdresser's unknown English skills -- enough to go in solo. I was afraid I'd mispronounce something and come out with a feathered mohawk.

Annie graciously played "mom" for five minutes on her lunch break. She stood next to the chair as I sat watching in the mirror, feeling much like the little boy who looks at the barber with wide eyes as mom explains how the hair should be cut. (Just a trim... use scissors, not clippers... been two months since his last cut...) The hairdresser (who looked a little like he could be Zohan's younger brother) listened as he worked his fingers through my hair.

Then Annie left me to get shampooed by Zohan's little brother and I was on my own.

Submitted here is my first Swedish haircut as it appears directly from the salon. I'm not sure what the style is... it's kind of like my hair is being blown forward by a large wind blast behind me. It won't look like this tomorrow after I wash it, but I can tell it'll look good.

Boy, do I need some art on my walls!

I exist!

2009-06-16T20:25:00.002+02:00

Received my "personnummer" today, which is akin to my social security number in the States. Now I can work, get a bank account, rent a car, rent movies, get a cell phone, etc.

View of Södertälje

2009-06-14T11:00:00.003+02:00

Shot from the balcony of my apartment. Click fullscreen or HD to see it better.

Swedish High School Graduation Day in 1 minute, 11 seconds

2009-06-13T22:27:00.015+02:00

Referenced in my earlier post.

Slow on the uptake

2009-06-13T22:24:00.003+02:00

It took me about a week to realize my third-floor apartment is on what we'd call the fourth floor in the U.S.

High School Graduation

2009-06-13T10:19:00.009+02:00

Driving the car to Norrtälje to celebrate Annie's cousin's high school graduation went well. If I ever feel homesick for the Seattle area, all I have to do is hit the road. There were stretches of the journey that looked exactly like driving through my home state of Washington.

Graduating from high school is a day-long event in Sweden with graduates riding in a parade on flatbeds behind tractors and trucks, drinking beer, dancing to loud music, spraying the crowd with champagne. The students wear caps that look to me similar to a boat-captain cap.

Then it's off to whatever party or parties you're joining for the rest of the day. We spent the day at Annie's aunt's house eating, drinking, talking, laughing, singing as we celebrated the graduates. Here's the video.

Walkabout

2009-06-11T19:34:00.012+02:00

A HUGE difference between my life in the States and here in Sweden is that I don't have a car. I'm walking everywhere. (Will get a bike soon.)

Annie is in a group fitness competition at her work, so she's been wearing a pedometer to track her progress. In her normal everyday life, she treks from 10,000 to 14,000 steps a day without even trying.

I wore a pedometer in the States for a couple days out of curiosity. My normal day consisted of walking into the garage, driving to work, walking to my desk, walking to the cafeteria and back, again to the car, driving home and walking into the house. I was lucky if I got 2,500 steps.

Here my lowest day so far has been twice that. I'm usually getting between 8,000 and 12,000 steps a day, with my highest day being 19,500. I take the train and bus, but in between I walk everywhere and I'm really liking it so far. (Let's see how I like it in winter, right?)

But tomorrow I'm driving. We're going to Annie's cousin's graduation and I'm borrowing her dad's car. It'll be my first time behind the wheel on Swedish roads. I'll let you know how it goes!

First observations

2009-06-11T16:20:00.015+02:00

It's been three weeks since I arrived and there are a few differences I've noticed between what I experienced in the States and here in Sweden. Here's the first random sampling:

Hot water is instant-on, everywhere I've been: My apartment, my fiancée's apartment, hotels, public restrooms. I don't know how they do it. For truly cold water, you have to let it run for a good 5-10 seconds, which seems backwards in Sweden. ;)

This is definitely the tallest, blondest, blue-est-eyed, thinnest place I've lived, but it's not nearly as homogeneous as you might think. I've seen people of every ethnicity I can think of (even Native American), most speaking Swedish. Understandably, I've been told the further north I go, the less diversity I'll see.

You have to bag your own groceries; there are no baggers at the grocery store. The cashier doesn't bag either, they simply move on to the next customer when they've rung you up. There's a system whereby the cashier slides a long lever over a conveyer belt to direct the next customer's items away from yours.

You have to pay for your grocery bags. (This is happening in some places in the U.S. now.)

Taxes are always included in the listed price.

I lived here as an exchange student 21 years ago. At that time the candy known as "Twix" in the U.S. was called "Raiders" here. Now it's "Twix" here, too. The candy "Daim", which you can currently find at IKEA in the U.S. as well as everywhere here, was also here two decades ago, but I'm pretty sure it was spelled "Dajm."

As it was then, you still have to pay to use nearly any public restroom. Usually 5 kronor.

"Skeleton keys", you know, those old-time-lookin' keys, are still in everyday use. I have two on my keychain.

Arrival

2009-06-09T16:21:00.005+02:00

I greeted Södertälje, my new home in Sweden, butt-first. I didn’t mean to, but when the taxi pulled up to my fiancée's apartment, the weight of my backpack pulled me right out the door backwards onto the wet pavement below.

Thankfully, the only damage done was a slightly dented pride.

Anyway, elegance-be-damned, I had arrived.

Finally.

My journey to becoming an American living in Sweden started in 1987 when I spent a year here as an exchange student during my junior year of high school. For now the only thing you need to know about that year is that I met my Swedish fiancée then.

Fast-forward a couple decades when the Internet and social networking allowed us to find each other again and communicate daily. Very-long-story-short, we fell in love over many letters, calls, visits and video Skype sessions. I applied for a residence and work permit, got it, and now I’m here.

This blog will be a record of my experiences here. Whether you find it interesting, entertaining or neither: Welcome! Välkommen!