Visitors from L-town!

Last weekend, our dear ex-flatmates from London - Chiswick W4 to be exact - paid us a visit here in Stockholm. It was their first time to the Venice of the North, and lucky for them, one of probably the last few weekends of summer-ish weather (although as you can see from our attire below, not too summery). 

this was the only pic of the wknd of all 4 of us, taken just before they left on Sunday
 when we were quite exhausted from all the festivities

It was so great to host them, showing them our new city and re-living years of memories on South Parade. We walked all over the city on Saturday (so much so that my calves were killing me the next day), stopping at our favorite drinking holes along the way. Then drank a couple bottles of Duty Free wine* in our local park Rållis, before dinner at lakeside Malarpaviljongen, after which we continued on to cocktails overlooking the harbor at the elegant Gondolen and finishing off the night at the outdoor, hipster-central club Debaser.

We mustered all the energy we could for a hungover Sunday to the closest island of Stockholm's archipelago, Fjarderholmen. Beautiful, picturesque, and the meal we had - I was full for the entire day. All in all, a fabulous weekend! 

*thanks for that Cass and Andre

Mushy Peas are the Caviar of the UK

December in London is a beautiful time of year. The cold hazy days are cozy, whereas by February they'll feel more bleak and depressing. Green garlands of decorations adorn every possible surface and post, and Christmas trees line the streets, begging to be carried home. In the midst of all this holiday spirit, I find myself sitting in my old flat, on the new, marvelously comfortable couch, waiting for.... the dishwasher repairman. Not a very romantic picture of my 2-week visit to London, but I must say I actually appreciate the excuse to sit on said couch, doing literally nothing but watching Sky TV, for once the sole decision-maker of which of hundreds of channels to watch.

view from the living room window

It is in this 5-hour window of waiting time that I have discovered my new favourite British cook, Nigella Lawson, whose Christmas Kitchen show makes me want to get up this very second and start carving those frustratingly tiny pastry molds for mince pies. There is one thing, however, which confuses me about this traditional fare: the mincemeat. Does not contain any meat. The pies consist of a gooey combination of apples, cranberries, and other dried fruits, steeped in a mix with spices. So why is it called mincemeat? Listing the ingredients, and even watching the pies' creation under Nigella's watchful eye make them seem so irresistable; and yet, I never have actually enjoyed the taste of these holiday treats. What can you expect from a country where mushy peas are a staple food?

Another British treat (not particular for any specific time of year) is the Maryland cookie. Supposedly the recipe for these "biscuits" was brought to the UK from the US over half a century ago, and has been pretty successful because whenever I tell anyone here I'm from Maryland, they say "Ooooh! Like the cookie!" That and "Do you live near Baltimore? Only 40 minutes away?! Within spitting distance of 'The Wire'! WHAT??! YOU'VE NEVER SEEN IT??!" And so it goes, continuing with my explanation that I really don't watch much TV at all, and yes, I know I need to watch it because I'm from Maryland, and ending with a promise that they will lend me their copy. Which hasn't happened yet. And so I still haven't seen it. Maybe in my time waiting for the dishwasher repairman I'll be able to .... and there's the doorbell now.

Home Again

Being back in the US after over a year abroad has brought forth a wide range of emotions for me.  For the last 12 months, I've essentially been living in a dorm, London style.  The dorm, i.e. tall, narrow row house in a posh neighborhood a few blocks from Abbey Road, was packed with American interns, two in every room, basement to 4th floor.  Ants invaded, our heating broke, the boiler shrieked, the stove fell apart (on Thanksgiving, of course) - I'll admit the situation had its ups and downs for sure.  But overall, I had a great time, met some amazing people, and saw things I'd never otherwise know even existed.

Which brings me to the present moment: living at home with my parents.  The contrasts are stark.  I get my own bathroom.  My own bedroom.  My own bed that is not the size of a 10-year old's.  And the joy of re-discovering all those things I forgot I'd left behind.  I also don't fall asleep laughing over a ridiculous story my roommate just told.  Or come home to 15 people hanging out on the back patio.  Or stroll a block down the road to The Prince Alfred pub for a pint on Tuesday Quiz Night. 

Being back reminds me that what I once took for granted is not necessarily the norm outside of the US.  Those enormous tubs of butter-like spreads now seem big enough for a city, not a family.  A Sunday night at the grocery store is possible.  And when I cross the street these days, I have to conciously think to myself "look left!" so as not to get run over.  It will take me some time to get a handle on that one...

Being home is wonderful- reuniting with friends and family, going to my old favorite places.  And the foods I craved - Chick-fil-A, P.F.Changs, soft shell crabs- are no longer an ocean away.  So now I just have to figure out what's next.  More easily said than done.