My Swedish Gone Wrong

At a recent house (or rather, apartment) party, I found myself standing by the door welcoming some new arrivals as they walked in, shedding their winter layers. As one does in small talk, I asked one guy how he knew the host and hostess, to which an answer came out that I didn't really hear. Instead of asking this guy to repeat himself, I just laughed, loudly and overtly, my go-to reaction when I'm not sure what to do. It usually works out.

But not this time.

The guy looked at me like I'd just asked him if I could take a bite off his ear.

Why is that funny? he asked me. I said I went to university with him.

Uhhhhh ..... b a c k a w a y s l o w l y a n d a v o i d s a i d p e r s o n f o r t h e r e s t o f t h e e v e n i n g

awkward door guard

Of course, the problem was my level of Swedish in this - and many other - situations. The hum and blare of a 70-person party doesn't help either. Still, I was disappointed by my level of Swedish. After 4.5 years, I'd hoped to be a Swedish-language master, nearly native. No such luck. Although I have my moments. And I do get complimented a lot for how well I speak this crazy Nordic language. But I still struggle with simple things. Like what did the guy say on the announcement on the metro? And what is that news broadcaster reporting? Aren't news broadcasters supposed to speak clearly? I'm sure they are speaking clearly, but it's still a struggle for me.

I was recently asked by someone how much Swedish I understand, and I answered 90%. That's on a good day. Other days it might only be 50%. I do have relationships with people that are entirely in Swedish - and it feels strange to speak English with them. But with other people, I can't seem to even get into the flow.

Either way, as someone who's terrible with new languages, I'm proud of what I've accomplished so far, even if it's taken me awhile to get there. But learning a language never really seems to be over. It's a life-long process, like so many other things, and that's a good thing since I've got some more learning to do.

Party Time at the Sauna

Or rather, I should say, on the nude sun-bathing deck perched on the cliffs overlooking the sauna and surrounding docks. This post is late by a couple weeks - the party was August 25 - but I will write it anyway as a tribute to one of Stockholm's few beautiful, warm(ish) evenings this summer.*

For a fee of 200sek (that's about $30US), guests received a fruity welcome drink (or two); a buffet meal of fresh salmon, potatoes, and salad; an incredible, homemade chocolate raspberry pie; and all the chili nuts we could get our hands on. The classic Swedish BYOB applied - and guests certainly took advantage, some toting liters of vodka and whiskey. 

Built over 50 years ago, this partially-covered, wooden sun deck of Fredhällbadet overlooks Lake Mälaren and the islands Störa and Lilla Essingen. Despite it's central location, this corner of the island is tucked away and feels like a semi-escape from the city. 

Our presence at this annual jubilation dropped the average age by about 35 years - but that didn't mean our fellow sauna-ers couldn't party. The nearly full moon lit up the deck as we danced to the gubbrock band - "old-man rock" band - late into the night... or perhaps not so very late for us considering most of the others were still going strong when we bid our goodbyes. 

And the quote of the night: "I didn't recognize her with clothes on," whispered on more than a few occasions. Oh the joys of our naked sauna club.

*I can officially report that the temperature rose above 25°C (77°F) on a total of 5 days over the entire summer in Stockholm. 

SlottFest = Castle Party

Last weekend I was whisked off to a castle in the South of Sweden for SlottFest 2010 thanks to the annual gathering of friends from Västervik, a tiny town on the East coast where my Niklas happens to be from (THANK YOU Joseph for organizing!!).

[slott means castle; fest means party = perfect combination]

The castle is called Örenäs Slott and is situated on Öresund, the body of water separating Denmark and Sweden. There's only about 15 miles between the 2 countries at this point, so you can easily see across to the other side. Örenäs is the youngest castle in Sweden, built in 1918 - not so young by U.S. standards.

Sweden may not seem like such a large country, but it is in fact quite looooong. Stockholm is only about a quarter of the way up, from which it still takes at least 5 hours to get to the Southern-most region. And so Nik and I watched snow-covered fields turn to soggy, wet land on our train ride South before arriving in Lund and then continuing by train to Glumslöv, the nearest village to the slott.

Upon arriving, we checked into our room to find that we had a suite on the top floor with not 1 but 2 full bathrooms. I don't really understand the rationale behind this, but I didn't protest - it was gorgeous, bathroom(s) and all. Scattered throughout the castle were several salons with huge antique sofas and wing-back chairs crowded around ornately decorated fireplaces. I was happy to relax in one of these comfy chairs, where I could pretend to be royalty reigning over the surrounding sugar fields (who knew sugar grew in Sweden?).

At 7pm the night's festivities began with champagne in the basement, a tastefully bare space with brick walls, low ceilings and cozy candlelight. Our party of 70-some then made our way upstairs for a 3-course dinner: skagen pate (skagen is an incredible Swedish dish: a combination of shrimp, dill, sour cream, etc mixed in the perfect ratio, usually served on toast); beef and potatoes with a delicious sauce (details are getting harder to remember at this point in the night); and for dessert, a chocolate mousse with Italian ice (of which I ate an extra serving, because for some odd reason I wasn't full enough already). 

I have never seen Swedes eat together in a large group without singing. Although I've been informed that songs are only for Christmas and Midsummer, the sopranos at this reunion were aplenty. I have no idea what the words meant, but almost every Swede knew each one. Most were accompanied by a toast at the end, and naturally, more toasts led to more singing, and so it went with song, toast, then a speech, toast then another song, toast and so on... toast.... toast

The last move of the night, upward once again, was to the salons for Baileys, coffee, Macmyra whiskey and dancing. The evening progressed as most do, messier with each passing hour, and the last guests were up well past 5am. I'm told there were only a dozen or so left by then. I'd given up my efforts to outlast the crowd and surrendered to sleep a couple hours earlier to the world's softest bed. The weekend was definitely one to remember, my first - and hopefully not last - night in a real castle.