The land of sun and falcons

As it's snowed today in both Stockholm and my hometown, Annapolis (how is this happening on St Paddy's Day?!?), I thought it might be a good time to re-visit NS' and my trip to visit M & N in Abu Dhabi last month. A reminder that warmer temperatures do exist somewhere at least...

Have you heard of falconry? The practice of hunting with falcons? I would say it's an art, if not a way of life for many people in the United Arab Emirates, as our trip to Abu Dhabi brought to light. 

me feeding a quail to this falcon

The sheikh (pronounced shake) - the ruler of the land - has 300 falcons at his disposal, and brings them all along on his 3-week trips into the depths of the desert in search of what little wildlife is out there. His entourage sets up a mini-city transported by hundreds of vehicles to the middle of nowhere as a base camp - the most luxurious camping you've ever seen. And each day he chooses a few prized falcons to bring on his excursion. What a life.

Falcons can even have their own passports, and are given their own seats on flights. Can you imagine sitting next to one?

Abu Dhabi is also home to one of the world's largest mosques - and undoubtedly the most grandiose - the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. There's space for 40,000 worshippers inside, lined up in straight rows along the world's largest hand-woven carpet. It's truly a life-size Aladdin palace, no expense spared.

I thought I was safe with my head scarf and long skirt, but I couldn't show my arms either so here I am

NS and I splurged on an escape to luxury at one of Abu Dhabi's many beach clubs, this one at the Monte Carlo Hotel on Saadiyat Beach. A warm, turquoise infinity pool overlooking the Persian Gulf flanked by enormous sun beds was all we needed for an afternoon in the sun. It was heaven...

yesssssssssss

And on our last day in AD, we got to see the Red Bull Air Race soar through the skies above Abu Dhabi. It was by far the most impressive display of aerial feats I've ever seen (sorry Blue Angels, but you just don't compare). 

I guess the colored smoke helps (it's food coloring!)

Thank you so much to our fabulous hosts M&N for an incredible week of discoveries, sun, and amazing smoothies and falafel. 

we don't wanna leave!

And so it begins

Finally! The breakthrough of my modelling career has arrived! I am The Local's official model of how to eat a semla. At least how to eat a semla the "aristocratic" way and the "milk bomb" way.

Semlor (plural of semla) are Sweden's precursor to Lent. I would venture to say that many, if not most Swedes don't know what Lent is. No matter, it's only important that we eat semlor this time of year, and mandatory on Fat Tuesday. 

And what a great tradition. These amazing treats consist of sweet buns cut in half and filled with almond paste and TONS of whipped cream. They're incredible. 

I've been known to go overboard on my consumption of semlor on Fat Tuesday. Last year I think I ate 4. Doesn't sound so crazy, but each one of these is the size of a hamburger - and probably double the calories. 

Anyways, this year, I kept it to a modest 1.5 on the day (add a couple more for my season total). But hey, I've got to compensate for my annual tradition: since I was about 13, I've given up all desserts for the 40 days of Lent. Some of you, I can imagine, are thinking that's no big deal. For me, I can say this is a very big deal. And of course that's why it must be done. There has to be some point throughout the year during which I practice a bit of self-control, right? 

So here it goes. 1 day down, 39 to go...

I'm disappointed, Stockholm

When I moved here, Stockholm, you promised me beautiful winters. In exchange for cold days with little light, you said you'd bring me snow to silence the city noises and cover it with a blanket of pure, bright white. You promised days of winter sporting - sledding and cross country skiing and, if nothing else, walks with a crunch underfoot.

my walk to work this morning - a dusting turned to rain a couple hours later

This year, Stockholm, you've not given me any of this. I may be exaggerating slightly - we've had about 6 days of the blissful winter that I love this city for.  

Of course, summers in Sweden are incredible - but when they let me down (which they often do with a drizzly grey tepidness that would hardly be described as summer at home), I assure myself that Stockholm does winter right at least. With the gorgeous snowfall and the cozy, candle-lit windows - it's a fairy tale. 

But this year, it's mostly been an endless gravel-ground-covered grey. It wears down the soul. And the sun - I'm forgetting what it feels like. I'm craving that feeling. 

So I've decided to put a stop to this. Right now. Well, tomorrow. I'm off. We're off. NS and I are going away for a week to another land far, far away - the land of the United Arab Emirates. To Abu Dhabi to be exact. To visit some very dear friends. To see a place so different to any I've ever seen. And to get some sun - because I don't function without it, and I've almost reached that point. 

And all I can say, Stockholm, is that you better straighten up by the time I'm back!

Sayonara!

Bikram galore

Have I mentioned that every winter, I do a spurt of bikram yoga? It’s become a sort of tradition, when the bitter coldness of the Scandinavian winter becomes too much to bear. I retreat into the deep warmth of a mirror-lined cocoon where sweat drips from my every pore for 90 intense minutes.

my sweat-soaked towel at the end of class

I have a love-hate relationship with bikram yoga. I’m in the middle of a month-long spurt now, and am part counting down the days until it’s over, part wishing my last class would never come. 

In the hours leading up to each class, I desperately try to drink as much water as possible. And throughout each class, I play a fantasy of jumping into a cool pool of water - any water - over and over in my mind.

At the end of every bikram class, I'm beat. Beat in a good way, beat in a bad way - in either state, moving is a great effort, at least for a little while. I drag myself out of the studio and sit on the cool floor letting what feels like cold air (read: normal room temperature) surround me. It's probably a breeding ground for getting a cold, letting my sweat turn so quickly, but there's really no alternative if I ever want to leave the yoga studio.

With recovery and showering, it usually takes me about half an hour before I leave, but my face remains beet-red for at least another hour. I like to think of it as a healthy glow, but beneath my clothes is also a whole lot of "after sweat." No matter how cold of a shower I take and how slowly I try to get ready, each layer of clothing must be peeled on over rising sweat. How can there be any left? I wonder in vain. There always is.

I love the sweat and I love how I feel after a good class. But I look forward to not spending so much time preparing for, doing, and recovering from bikram. And so, the end of my month comes just in time... until next winter, Namaste!

Getting to know Hasselhoff

Last night, I was one of a couple hundred Stockholmers who ventured out into the harsh winter elements (on a Sunday!) to meet the one and only David Hasselhoff.

that's his back just above my head!

What on Earth is David Hasselhoff doing in Sweden? you may find yourself wondering. No obvious Swedish connection, as far as I can tell. And honestly, after sitting in the first row of his new Swedish talkshow's studio audience for over 2 hours, I still have no idea. It seems he was just kind of struck by the idea that things are happening in Sweden and he should be part of them. Well, why not?

From the start, Hasselhoff was pretty upfront and relaxed, at least as far as I could tell. He introduced himself before the taping started, polling how many in the audience had been in a studio audience before and admitting that, as most of us, he's new at this whole thing too. 

Which was obvious, but in a good way I'd say. Hasselhoff did his best to eloquently pose questions to each of his 3 Swedish celebrity guests, even if he didn't know much about them. His signature question was So why are you famous? - and for each one, I was wondering the same thing. Sometimes he was eloquent, and sometimes there were long pauses while a certain "Mr. Happy" directed the Hoff from backstage through a hidden earpiece. 

Being part of a studio audience requires a certain degree of discretion when it comes to keeping details of the show under wraps until it's aired, and I'm not one to ruin a good surprise so I won't tell you who the guests were or any other exciting details. But I will say that sitting in the front row with the only signs - We heart The Hoff - in the house (thanks GK!) pays off if you want to be famous on national Swedish television. Which naturally we do. And so we shall be! Check it out and laugh with us at the ridiculousness of The Hoff in Sweden.

Starting the new year right

What do you miss about the States? 

It's a common question for me here in the far north, and one to which I always answer - after family, friends, and hot summers of course - orange chicken. One of the main dishes of American-style Chinese food, I simply can't get enough of it. Every time I'm home, I make a point to eat orange chicken at least once, ideally from Panda Express, America's Chinese fast-food of choice. The small pieces are completely engulfed in the gooey orangey goodness so each bite is extra flavorful. I'm undoubtedly taking 10 years off my life with whatever chemicals are used in the concoction, but it's totally worth it. 

My cravings for orange chicken have always been limited to my visits to States... until yesterday, that is. On the international hangover day of the year, NS and I dragged ourselves across the street - a struggle in itself - for Chinese takeout. I was preparing myself for the disappointment I always feel as soon as I take my first bite of Swedish Chinese food - a meaty lump doused in salty sauce at best - when low and behold, I discovered this amazing sign:

"Orange chicken, comes from America" - eureka! What luck! The greatest moment in Swedish culinary history since princess cake. And I have to say, it was pretty good. A bit of salad strangely added into the mix, but otherwise, grade-A orange chicken. I have a feeling it's gonna be a good year.

Kulor and muffs

If you know me, you know that I can be a bit of a control freak. I fully admit it - no use trying to deny the truth. And this was very much the case last year as I planned our wedding. As you can imagine, it was a bit more extreme than usual. 

So I decided... I mean we decided... on a nautical-ish theme for our big day. This didn't get fully carried out in the end, but for awhile I was obsessed with finding these. Do you know what they are? They were used way back to keep track of fishing nets, bobbing along the surface of the water to mark the spot. I don't actually know what they're called in English (glass balls?), but in Swedish they're glas kulor - and I went to every antique store I could (much to NS' chagrin) asking for these beauties.  

In the end, I found only one at a darling little antique store in NS' hometown Västervik. I visited in July last year asking for them and the owner said he had one put away in storage, but he'd have it for me when I came back at Christmas. Lo and behold, as soon as I walked in the door that December, he had it ready and waiting - my very own beautiful glas kule. 

The photo above is from that same antique store this fall with this gorgeous muff. I was tempted to buy it, but unfortunately it looks much warmer on the outside than it is on the inside. Perhaps I'll cave in anyway this Christmas. 

Not that it's been that cold so far this winter. Although winter doesn't technically start until December 21, in Sweden, winter's arrival is marked by the first 5 consecutive days below 0 degrees celsius. I'm not actually sure if we've hit that mark yet. 

I can attest, though, that it's been a wet fall. And from the seat of my bike, it's felt pretty cold to me. And it always feels like the wind is against me. Why does that happen? As of this week, though, I caved in and bought a monthly public transport card. Looking forward to all the books I can read now as the world passes by outside my warm bus. I guess that's the official start of winter for me - goodbye biking until 2014!