Fishy fishy

Something fishy is happening in Stockholm - you find it walking through malls, ads for it are everywhere, entire salons are dedicated to it. 

It's fish pedicures and manicures! Have you heard of them? Your feet and hands are placed in a tank of water filled with dozens of tiny, flesh-eating garra rufa fish which eat your dead skin. Sounds pretty nice, huh?

I experienced my first - and probably last - fish treatment on Friday. A Groupon lure, MP and I decided to give it a shot. It wasn't until about 3 seconds before we submerged our hands in the tank that I realized how disgusting this was. The visions I had of relaxing with a "manicure" and "pedicure" disappeared with the cool water temperature and feeling of creatures nibbling away on my fingers. I never would have envisioned participating in this treatment, let alone actually paying for it, but the craze has become so wide-spread here that I didn't give it much thought until it was too late.

Apparently the practice of fish pedicures started in Turkey where these garra rufa fish originate. The fish have been used for healing purposes for over 400 years, not only softening skin but also alleviating eczema and psoriasis. The practice has spread through Asia, too, where you can also submerge your entire body in a tank of fish! I don't think I'll ever be lured into that tank, no matter how healing it may be, thankyouverymuch.

There were a few others in the salon with us, none of whom seemed to be too bothered by what was happening to their hands or feet, while MP and I squirmed and writhed every few seconds as a fish tail flapped against our hands and feet. 

20 minutes of hand and 40 minutes of feet submersion later, our appendages felt... soft. Not so soft, but slightly soft. I wonder how long we would need to be in there to get a drastic effect. Athough I have to say, I'm not curious enough to ever do it again. 

HoppingAvettCentralbadetMamdou kind of Weekend

Last Friday night was First Friday Hopping in Stockholm! Started here in November, First Friday Hopping is an open night for art galleries and craft shops to showcase their goods. BONUS: free wine at all stops + snacks + sales = happy Friday. Our tipsy hopping was followed by dinner at a local Italian restaurant - I Cinque Sensi - where the food was slightly disappointing, but the company more than made up for it.

portraits in the window at Ebbas Värld gallery - Ebba was the cutest, most eccentric artist we met, and wanted to draw everyone's face, but our stomachs were growling; photo by Grace Ann

On Saturday night, after gorging on Czech beef and potatoes, MP & I managed our way to the front of the Avett Brothers concert at Debaser in Medborgarplatsen. Those Carolina brothers know their stuff - a truly great show.

On Sunday, NS & I celebrated 7 years together! How 7 years has passed since that fateful day in Perth when we first met, I have no idea, but we celebrated the day at Centralbadet and the night at Mamdou's. 

Despite appearances, Centralbadet (although probably not this sign) dates back to 1904 as a spa in the middle of central Stockholm. Nestled on a courtyard of apartments off the main shopping steet, Drottningatan, the spa is a haven of relaxation. Hot pools, cold pools, big pools, small pools, pools for feet, pools for laps, pools for lounging - we made sure to try each one. Then there were the saunas - mixed saunas, dry saunas, steam saunas and a "cold air shower" to cool off (aka a hole in the wall with air blowing out). Around the main lap pool were candelabras and cozy nooks for contemplation. Have you ever swam by candlelight?



We finished off our day at cozy Mamadou, a new Asian restaurant about a 15-minute walk from our apartment. Despite the fact that we were served the wrong wine (twice, we thought, but through later research, we came to discover that shiraz and syrah are actually the same thing - who knew?) and despite our appetizers and mains being served together, we had a wonderful meal and were perfectly, if not overly, full when we left.

Thank you, älskling, for 7 amazing years - and here's to many, many more!

Mexican food in Stockholm - yes!

Welcome Grace Ann of On My Bike with Scissors and a Cast Iron Skillet to Delicious Ambiguity! Here's her take on how a Texas girl survives Stockholm's scant Mexican variety. Enjoy!

What do corn tortillas, leftover baked potatoes, eggs, a cast iron skillet, cheese, avocado, and salsa all have in common? The most awesome skillet breakfast ever, that’s all. 

I woke up this morning craving the taste of Tex Mex and when I opened the refrigerator door, it was as if these ingredients were glowing. My eyes quickly picked out what was relevant to a Tex Mex skillet breakfast and I started chopping, cooking and assembling. The result: deliciousness!

One of the things I have missed the most living here in Sweden is Mexican and Tex Mex food. Coming from Texas, going out for Mexican food and margaritas, or creating a Mexican fiesta at home was something that happened on a regular basis, sometimes several times a week. 

When we first moved to Stockholm, we tried our best to embrace what was available here: combination corn and flour tortillas, salsas with little to no complexity or spice, and cheddar cheese as the best “Mexican” cheese option. Luckily cilantro, avocados and jalapeños were plentiful and tomatillos available seasonally so we were able to make do.

Add to that the occasional, very-much-appreciated care packages filled with salsas, green chilis and enchilada sauce from friends and family at home, and we couldn’t really complain. 

Over time, we've been able to add to our Mexican food resources with the discovery of tiny pieces of Mexico and Tex Mex tucked within the nooks and crannies of Stockholm. The “infamous” La Neta taco restaurant, now with two locations, has several vegetarian options and delicious, homemade salsa. 

And our most recent discovery, a store called Extreme Food, sells an assortment of burn-your-gizzard-out salsas, sauces, and chilis, as well as their quaint little corner devoted solely to Mexican imports. Now, armed with our own tortilla press and a plethora of authentic ingredients, Mexican food is no longer something we have to long for. 

28 Years Young

I have to admit, 28 has been pretty swell so far. 

my birthday party, photo by Heini

I woke up to NS singing me happy birthday with breakfast in bed (a Swedish tradition) - a cheese and marmalade sandwich with dried mango slices on the side (not a Swedish tradition) - and a birthday candle to blow out. No matter that I could only manage 1 bite; not used to eating until I'm at my desk at work. 

Lunch at one of Stockholm's best Thai restaurants (there are many), Koh Phangan. An incredible fika at work of raspberry white chocolate cupcakes, directly followed by the Swedish Fat Tuesday pastry called semla (see below). How convenient (and appropriate, given my love of food) that my birthday fell on such a day. 

And in the evening, a lovely book club meeting to discuss The Kitchen House, an amazing, albeit depressing book. With heart-shaped chocolate cupcakes with chocolate cream-cheese frosting. No wonder my nickname is Kakie.

On Saturday, I threw myself a birthday party with about 30 of my nearest and dearest. I don't imagine our neighbors were too happy given the increasing music volume as the evening progressed into morning - but we didn't mind. And hey, no one complained. 

And on Monday, I started my annual bikram yoga marathon, this time for 10 days. It's the new studio discount, and fortunately for me, a new studio just opened up. Not sure what I'll do when this one's done since I'll have used up my newcomer deals at all of Stockholm's studios, but I'm feeling amazing for now. Hurrah 28!



semla (1), semlor (many!)

Cross country skiing and birthday surprises

Since it is inevitable that I'll be turning 28 tomorrow, I have couldn't have asked for a better way to begin what is indisputably my late 20s.

My 30-kilometer Kristinaloppet cross country ski race was on Saturday, and I have to say, I was pretty nervous about it over the few days leading up to that cold, snowy morning. Friday night, NS & I rented a car and did our best to prepare for a hitch-less 6:30am departure for Norberg, about 2 hours northwest of Stockholm.

the start - trust me, I was far from up front

Late on Friday night, NS told me that I might want to bring my bathing suit, "just in case we come across a pool somewhere." I've made it my mantra to bring my bathing suit on every trip for fear of missing an opportunity to jump into whatever body of water we happen upon, but it didn't cross my mind for this particular adventure - it's tough to swim in lakes coated in thick sheets of ice.

"And maybe bring some other clothes, just in case we decide to stop for dinner somewhere," he added.

I was elated! I absolutely love surprises and couldn't wait to see what this one would be.

Our 6:30 departure was a bit delayed, but we still had plenty of time before the race's 10am start. That is, until we missed a turn (I can only blame myself, as the navigator, who needed a quick cat nap). Narrow, back-country roads wind-swept by mounds of light snow led us to our destination with 30 minutes to go go go! I made it to the start line just 20 seconds before the start gun sounded, without having waxed my skis (this is a crucial part of cross-country skiing, and one which I'm far from mastering) - ooops!

coming up on the finish!

The terrain of the Kristinaloppet is not particulary challenging - it's hilly, but nothing too extreme. However, for some reason, I didn't get in a good flow until kilometer 26. That means 26 kilometers of against the wind perseverance - snow in face - ache in lower back - fingers stuck in a grasp of my poles.  I struggled onward, propelled by dreams of blueberry soup (the traditional drink handed out to cross-country skiers at the hydration stations) only to be disappointed after a couple sips.

By the time I made it back to the finish line some 4 hours and 20 minutes after starting in the same spot, most of the spectators had gone home. I managed a strong finish, and passed a couple people on the way, but I have to say it wasn't a heroic performance by any means. Still, I did it! 458th out of 511.

After booking it to the car to salvage what was left of NS' frozen fingers, we headed to the surprise destination, which turned out be Friibergh herrgård. This beautiful hotel is located along the shores of a lake north of Stockholm in an estate dating back to 1329.  We made it just in time for afternoon tea, and nestled onto a comfy fireside couch with finger sandwiches, baked goods, and beers. It was heaven.

After eating a few too many skagen (a delicious shrimp mix) sandwiches, we relaxed in the hotel's basement pool and sauna before our 5-course dinner. The food was incredible - and we finished it all. Each course was paired with a specially selected drink - white wine, red wine, cognac, something else I'd never heard of. By the end, I was full beyond belief and could barely keep my eyes open. 30km + a 5-course meal will do that to you.

On Sunday morning, we awoke to see ice skaters fly by on the lake outside our window in the annual ice skating race from Uppsala to Stockholm - vikingarännet. We explored the grounds a bit before hopping back in the car and back home. It was an incredible weekend and the perfect start to my late 20s!

Friday at Piren

For the last 2 Friday nights, I've taken NS to dinner - pretty nice deal for him, eh? 

The first was to a restaurant called Piren, or the pier, an appropriate name, as the restaurant is built entirely over the water on a pier. It's modern, straight-lined design creates a cozy interior enclosed by glass walls to enjoy the gorgeous views. Piren is just a 10-minute walk from our place, and I've been itching to go, so I surprised NS with it by leading him through the snowy, waterside, moon-lit trail to our destination.

A bottle of red and some homemade rolls with cream cheese held us over until our entrées arrived - mine a grilled, rosemary & garlic-encrusted lamb filé with creamy carrot mash and truffle oil and NS a grilled entrecote with bearnaise sauce and fries. 

And dessert of course: créme brulée with caramel apple sorbet and chocolate fondant with passionfruit ice cream. Quite a mix of flavors, but they worked.

Then there was our culinary experience this past Friday, of slightly lesser quality - our late-night stop at Max's (the McDonald's of Sweden, but better). But ohhhh how my cheeseburger and fries hit the spot!

Cross Country Skiing through a Winter Wonderland

Last winter, I received my first pair of cross country skis, hand-me-downs from NS' dad's lovely wife. They were made in 1985 in Yugoslavia and I couldn't have been happier to have them! No matter that I had only been cross country skiing a total of 3 times in my life, if you count the time a friend and I duct-taped skiis to our shoes because we couldn't find the boots. Which makes me pretty much the most clueless country country skier in Sweden. No joke.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to test these beauties last year as there was too little snow, so this winter, I was excited to try them out. After a test run around the park by our apartment, I decided to register for a 30-kilometer race, the Kristinaloppet, on February 9. Why not? 

The race is part of a competition called the Tjejklassikern, or "Girl Classic." The Tjejklassikern is made up of 4 events - 30 km cross country skiing, 100km biking, 1 km swimming (thank God only 1), and 10 km running - which take place throughout the year.

I've been training over the last couple weeks, and I can tell you that it's been quite a steep learning curve. My first time involved taking a bus - metro - commuter train to one of Stockholm's wealthy northern suburbs, Täby, where I promptly wandered through neighborhoods and fields of horses in search of the alleged 5-kilometer track. No one seemed to know for sure where it was and, long story short, I ended up getting a ride from a sweet old lady off the side of the road. The 5 kilometers went pretty smoothly, albeit I was the slowest one there.

Last weekend's journey to another track - Ursviks Motionsgård - was thankfully less of a mission, but the 10 kilometers I finished may as well have been 100. The trail wound through forests, up and down hills, each downhill leaving me terrified. Having spent the last 20 years downhill sking, it is a huge adjustment getting used to the long, narrow cross country skis, and I couldn't seem to keep my balance, even on the slightest decline. This explains the monster of a bruise on my left hip.

Third time's a charm. This past Saturday, I met a friend and braved Ursviks Motionsgård again. I'm not sure how I summoned the courage to return, but I'm thankful I did. The day was clear, sunny, and about -10°F - the coldest day so far this winter.  We finished 15 kilometers, getting slightly lost on a supposed 7-kilometer trail, then tacking on a 5k to finish. 

It was incredible. Every branch of each tree was covered in a delicate layer of frost, as were our hair and eyelashes. Men whizzed by us looking like true Vikings, their beards a blotch of whiteness (to be honest, everyone whizzed by us, no surprises there). The air was full of tiny glimmering ice crystals, shining in the rays of sun. We passed dogs running through the snow, one pulling his own packed sled, and horses stomping through the powder. 

And the most incredible thing of all: I didn't fall once.