March in like a Lion...

...and out like a lamb. I can't actually remember what the beginning of March was like weather-wise, so much has happened since then. But today truely felt like the first day of spring, full stop. The sun was out, and temps rose to 8+ C! When the wind blew, it wasn't painfully cold, but actually felt refreshing. 


But the main reason I knew it was finally spring today is when I walked into our local Solna Centrum mall, the revolving door wasn't revolving, but was somehow wide open (not sure how these advanced mechanisms work, but obviously it doesn't take much to impress me), letting the fresh air into its store-lined corridors. Now it's official.


And so, a run down of major and not-so-major events of the last few weeks:

1. We went skiing for the first time in Sweden! A small mountain resort called Romme Alpin... rather more like a big hill... is about 2 1/2 hours drive north of Stockholm (the furthest north I've ever been!). We took a day trip a couple Saturdays ago, leaving T-Centralen at a painfully early 630am. Was well worth the lack of sleep, though, as the day could not have been more beautiful, and as it was my only skiing of the season, I took well advantage. 


Despite not having skied in over a year, it came back to me straight away. The challenge was the lifts, or rather the T-bar lifts. The people in this photo in the link look happy and at ease riding up the mountain. This was not me. The morning was fine regarding the T-bars, mainly because we mostly rode chairlifts. But after lunch, trying to get on the T-bar lift with Kate somehow went very wrong, and led to both of us falling on the ground in uncontrollable laughter as the T-bars behind us whipped by, nearly knocking us out. The lift stopped, the lift guy had to come help me get up, and yes, we were those people who everyone was waiting for.... ooops. 


Other than that, a perfect day on the slopes. 

2. Nik's brother turned the big 3-0, and we had a surprise birthday party for him here in our apartment on Saturday night. Weeks of planning over lunch, sneaking extra dishes into my bag whenever we went to visit he and his wife, paid off. Patrik was really surprised to open our apartment door to find 25 friends and family crowded in the hallway burst into song, the (Swedish) birthday song of course:

          Ja, Må Han Leva!

          Ja, må han leva!

          Ja, må han leva!

          Ja, må han leva uti hundrade år!

          Ja, visst ska han leva.

          Ja, visst ska han leva.

          Ja, visst ska han leva uti hundrade år.

          Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!  

Rough translation: yes, he lives until he's 100 years old! All right, he will, Hurrah!

And Hurrah for a great party!

3. As I sit on my couch typing this entry now, I hear a quiet groaning from above me every 20 seconds or so. This sound has been going on since Friday morning, the same interval every time, and from the hallway outside our door, you can also hear a child's voice saying something in Swedish. It was quite creepy for the first couple days, until Nik investigated. He figured out who lived there and called the apathetic tenant who was "clueless," and is unconveniently out of town until Tuesday. 

Lucky us, today is Tuesday. Unlucky us, the noise hasn't stopped. I'm starting to seriously consider dropping something not so nice into his mail slot.... maybe I'll wait a couple more days

Ice: 1, Me: 0

March in Stockholm is a month of expectation. After 4 months of snow, there finally seems to be an end in sight. The sky gets noticably lighter every day; the temperatures hover around and then rise above freezing, if only by a couple degrees. With this inbetween weather, pedestrians are subject to the hazards of ice that melts during the day and then re-freezes at night, creating a slip 'n slide on every horizontal surface. And so it was on Saturday that I experienced first-hand what makes people tread so carefully.

I try to run every Saturday morning, and have done so through most of the winter, whether there were 3 feet of snow on the ground or sheets of ice covering the sidewalks. I've boasted about my record of falls so far - 0 - and was pretty confident I would make it through my first winter in Sweden without injury, well-balanced and fearless of the cold.

The above is a photo of the side of my thigh 3 days after my first - and hopefully only - fall of the season. Near the end of my run, as I made a slight turn, my foot fell out from under me and BAM the weight of my body slammed against the rock-hard ice. Not a pleasant feeling, to say the least. And the walk home felt more like 2 hours than 10 minutes. 

For awhile, I couldn't sit without pain, and I still can't sleep on the right side of my body, but at least it's not swollen anymore. Now I too have joined the ranks of the slow walkers, at least until spring. But I still don't plan to wait that long for my next run. 

How to Cure a Scraped Knee

As part of my attempt to learn Swedish, I borrowed books from our lovely Solna Centrum library. Children's books to be exact. The level you would get for a kid who can't really read. Babies, actually.

And that is how I came upon the photo below, which left me quite confused.

Page before: little girl's nose is hurting. Next page, father blows on it. What is this about?, I wonder. 


Upon asking my in-house Swede, I was informed that in Sweden, when kids get hurt, rather than kiss the pain, as is done in the US, parents blow on the injury. In the case above, I wonder about bad breath issues, which surely arise when blowing directly on someone else's nose. But in other circumstances, it actually makes some sense. Scraped knee? Mom isn't going to kiss the scrape. But maybe blowing on it will make it hurt less. Cut finger? Same thing. 


It's interesting to notice these small cultural differences. Perhaps a combination is the best solution? 

An Afternoon at Galleri Duerr with James Bradley Jr

"I worked to do with my right foot what others did with both"


So said Los Angeles-native Mr. James Bradley, Jr about his musical career as one of the world's finest jazz and rock drummers. On Sunday afternoon, Mamie Hyatt led Keepin' the Beat: An Afternoon with JBJ in Galleri Duerr in Odenplan. 


JBJ started tapping to the beat of music from the time he was in his crib, and demonstrated true musical talent at the age of 3 banging on pots and pans. At age 4, JBR was recognized as the world's youngest professional drummer.


Since then, Mr. Bradley has continued to live his passion, playing in a variety of bands, including Mary's Danish, Chuck Mangione, and Anita Baker. He has also played with The Beastie Boys, Crazy Town, and Lenny Kravitz.


On Sunday, his audience was lucky enough to hear the first-hand story of his music, and then to hear an incredible mini concert. His talents are truly amazing and make me wonder - was I doing anything at the age of 4? 

Love is in the Air

Today is indeed the day of love, and whether you celebrate with a dozen roses and a pricey dinner or by coming home late from class and making stir fry with frozen chicken and vegetables (as we just did), there's still romance in the air... and so, I wrote a little story of my love story for Bay Weekly.

Read here, just scroll down to the bottom
http://bayweekly.com/articles/people/article/love-stories

oldie but goodie, my Valentine & I, Kardinia, Feb 2006

To the Ice, Round II

Last Saturday I ice skated outside of an ice rink for the first time. My days doing loops around  Dahlgren Hall in the Naval Academy, taking a break every 20 minutes for pizza and ice cream were a distant memory. This was real ice skating. In a place where kids learn to skate at the same time they learn to walk (and ski, for that matter) and people drive their cars across the ice in the north to get to the archipelago islands. 

We skated a total of 25 kilometers across 3 lakes: Brunnsviken to Edsviken to Norrviken. We were 5, led by the skating-adept Pierre, who was so kind to organize the expedition. I was the slowest, having only been ice skating a handful of times in my life, but not by much. I wore long blades strapped to my ankle with special boots that squeezed my calves so hard I had (and still have) bruises and could barely walk by the end. 

My skating technique needs some work, to say the least. For some reason, I seem to need to stretch my arms out parallel to the ground and look at the ice ahead of me to keep my balance. I was, however, still able to appreciate the beauty around me, surrounded by trees and towns on the hillsides. 

Hiking between the first and second lake, we stopped for a fika (coffee/pastry break) in a little cafe inside a nursery before continuing to Edsviken. This 14-km lake had a little stand in the middle where a boy scout troop was fundraising, selling sausages they were grilling on the ice! In the US, we have bake sales outside grocery stores; in Sweden, they set up stands in the middle of frozen lakes. 

The day was gorgeous; the ice was - if slightly slushy on top - thick enough; and I didn't fall through, which is always a good thing. But I still had my isdubbars just in case. 

Handboll VM

Sweden just came 4th in the 22nd World Championship of Handball. If you're reading this from America, you may be having a hard time picturing what a handball game looks like, much less knowing that the world championship just ended (as I was a few weeks ago - or am I on my own for this one?). If you're reading this in Sverige, you know it's a big deal. 


And so I have recently learned the game of handball. 





By learned, I don't mean physically played. The game is super tough and takes a lot more coordination that I think I'd ever manage. But I have:
          a) become aware of the sport's existence and
          b) developed an appreciation for it


Handball is a fast-moving game sort of like basketball, but players dribble the ball every 3 steps and instead of tiny baskets, there are huge nets....errr goals I mean, to score in. And contact. Elbowing, dragging, practically tackling each other. My colleague played for years in her youth and broke all 10 fingers (at least once) playing handball. Players get pretty beat up - and then they play the next game. There was even a guy who broke his nose and was out playing the next day. And that, my friends, is why I don't play the game. 


Besides the fact that it wasn't an option growing up. Not for me or for anyone I knew. 


But Sweden used to be the best team in the world in the 70's and 80's, and still competes with today's top teams. That's why the world championship - the Handbolls-VM is such a big deal for them. And it took place in Sweden this year! 


Sunday's game against Spain was close for the whole 60 minutes and ended 24-23 Spain, leaving Sweden with 4th place. And on Sunday night, France took the gold. Who knew the French were so good? They've defeated the world in handball once again and it will be another 2 years Sweden has a chance to fight for the honor. At least I have the Super Bowl to look forward to... that is, if I can stay up until 4am next Sunday.