Day 1528: Beaver hunt

I WANT TO SEE A BEAVER!

Not that kind of beaver.

Anyway, whenever there is a slow news day the papers wheel out the beavers. I wrote about a beaver stopping a train years ago when I first moved. This week there are apparently SO MANY BEAVERS in a built up, central area of Stockholm called Kungsholmen; so WHY HAVEN'T I SEEN ONE?!

It's not fair to write about beavers like they're pigeons or squirrels (actually I still get excited about squirrels. Grey = 1 point, Red = 10 points, Black = 100 points). Beavers clearly are not everywhere otherwise I would have tripped over one. I saw two rats scratching around in some rubbish on the street - the binmen have been on strike - and I got excited, but they weren't beavers. When I went to Ireland on holiday I was told there would be puffins, and there were, and I saw one. Now the papers are promising me beavers all over the shop, right where I hang about every working day, and I bloody well expect to see some goofy teeth and oversize tails.

Look, most people have exciting bucket lists and this probably seems strange. However, if I want to make a list of animals and rank them according to an arbitrary points system like I do blueberries then that's my prerogative. Actually come to think of it, hedgehogs are supposed to be ubiquitous in England and I've never seen one...

Here's my checklist and haphazard score allocation of animals I'm supposedly supposed to trip over occasionally in Sweden:

<50 points> Beaver
<200 points> Moose (älg)
<10 points> Woodpecker (hackspettar)
<10 points> Eurasian bullfinch (domherrar)
<100 points> Adder (huggorm)
<500 points> Wolf
<500 points> Bear

So far I have 100 points and that's for the bum of a moose I saw disappearing into some trees as I rushed by on a train. In fact it might not even have been a moose, it might just be wishful thinking. The moose at Skansen zoo don't count. Also I heard a woodpecker so maybe I can have a point for that. My boyfriend's dad sent a picture of a bear from the family cabin (Swedish people have cabins in woods. It's a thing). I got excited because we were on our way in the car and I thought we'd be in time to see it. Turns out the bear was from google images.

What animals would make the list where you live, and how many points do you have? I hope you're doing better than me.

Day 1514: A very Swedish theory test question

This question came up on my practice theory test:

A person has been drinking a lot of alcohol until very late at night. What should he or she think about the following day?

1. If he runs a lap he will burn more alcohol and therefore drive without risk in the afternoon
2. If he drinks lots of water and then has a sauna he will burn more alcohol and therefore drive without risk in the afternoon
3. Since he can't affect the amount of alcohol he burns he should not drive for safety's sake 

As far as I know, there is no focus in the English theory test on alcohol (or how to best drive to reduce environmental impact). There is definitely no mention of running a lap (who outside Sweden stays up all night drinking and then goes for a run in the morning?!) or having a bloody sauna (In Stockholm you're never more than 6 feet from a sauna, while in London it's 6 feet from a rat.)

Furthermore, most commercial passenger vehicles like taxis, buses, logistics trucks and even my learner driver car are fitted with "alcolås" or alcohol lock, and the engine will not start if the driver fails an alcohol breath test!

Day 1507: A fucking shit day

Last week I had what can only be described as a "fucking shit day".

In England, when you have a fucking shit day, the remedy is to tell everybody about your fucking shit day, and revel in the sympathy that comes in the form of other people telling you about their fucking shit days. You all laugh together about how some days that you think are going to be normal days SUDDENLY turn into fucking shit days! Through this cleansing ritual, everybody purges. The cathartic venting of the fucking shit days leaves you feeling ready to face the next fucking shit day.

This is not what I have experienced in Sweden.

If you tell people about your fucking shit day, one of two things will happen. Either:

1. You will get a lot of "Åh nej, vad synd" (oh no, what a shame) which is probably heartfelt, but coming from a culture in which people don't really express their sympathy through high-pitched pleasantries, everything just sounds diabolically fake.

2. Uncomfortable body posture and rapid subject change. Fucking shit days are shit, nobody wants to think about them right? Quick, make the person who had a fucking shit day feel better by not thinking about it!

After my venting of this particular fucking shit day went catastrophically off the rails, I got to thinking about exactly why Swedish people are so uncomfortable in taking solace in the fact that other people's days are just as fucking shitty as their own.

And I couldn't help but think about how every fucking shit day, or every fucking shit facet of every fucking shit day, is often turned into a thinly veiled but totally ridiculous positive aspect. Like when my driving instructor looked at the rain lashing against the windshield through a foggy grey haze of blääääää and suddenly came out with "Oh fantastic! Now it's autumn!" I was so thrilled that she was using a bit of sarcasm I actually laughed! Until she followed up with "time to light the candles, wear comfy clothes and get cosy at home!" and I realised she was being totally unironic.

I constantly wonder how people here are able to sustain hours long conversation about running and going to the gym, when those are, realistically, obligatory time devourers that detract from ACTUAL HOBBIES and PERSONALITY DEVELOPMENT. But now it completely makes sense, doing repetitive exercise is so dull that it must be MAGICALLY TRANSFORMED into a positive, lest people actually start discussing something negative and we all have to get uncomfortably shifty and change the subject of conversation. So now we all have to talk about how great it feels when to have "träningsvärk" (training aches) and how some shoes that somebody purchased for running are so himla fina (blooming lovely).

Look at IKEA. Everybody knows that it's actually Dante's undiscovered next layer of hell going round the place, but somehow couples and families make a day out of it. What better representation of the Swedish ability to put a happy face on a dog turd is there than the global effect of IKEA. "Oh we have to go and spend money on crappy furniture to fill our home with utilitarian things, instead of buying all the cool shit we though we could have as kids when we imagined being adults and having money!! Yaaaaay! Let's clap our hands everybody and buy some sub-par, poor quality lingonberry jam!" Cue several hours of dead time looking at a mock up of a house you'll never have, followed by getting home and pretending you've accomplished something.

The big dream of most Swedish people is family life, why has nobody here got the message that family life is basically the epitome of drudgery? Oh wait - they have got that message, and they relish the challenge. If anyone can make the shitty nappy changing, weekly food shopping, temper tantrum throwing, super stressed school running, never ending laundry doing, relentless time slipping, constant lack of sleep giving destroyer of personal life dreams that is family life into a super happy fun time, it's got to be Swedish people.

If you're going to have a family, at least revel in the joy of sharing how shitty that makes you feel with other people. If the time you have to spend burning calories is greater than the time you spent enjoying the consumption of calories, at least burn a few of them in a circle jerk of anger with other people who feel the same. And if you have a fucking shit day of any kind, it is your privilege - nay! it is your RIGHT to have your shit day affirmed, confirmed and appreciated by fellow shit day havers.

Otherwise you might end up like my old neighbours; your anger (that you thought was magically transformed into joy) just bubbling up inside, ultimately culminating in you throwing plates at your partner during a blazing row at 4am. Then again, people in adjacent flats listening through the walls probably just told themselves: Oh nice! Now they have less washing up to do.

Day 1479: Lönehelg

We all just had a lönehelg (löne = salary, helg = weekend).

Lönehelg refers to the weekend directly after the 25th of the month when most people get paid. It results in a measurable phenomenon in which high numbers of people who are really fucking bad at planning their household economy rush out and buy copious amounts of shit. This probably happens even in other countries, because hey, people are the same everywhere really; but Sweden has nearly double the amount of retail space per person than the rest of western Europe. They really outdo themselves in shopping as a hobby, and in morosely wandering around the bland shopping centres with their entire families pretending to enjoy the same 4 chain stores repeating ad infinitum. And for the love of Odin, DON'T GO TO IKEA ON A LÖNEHELG.

It's not just physical items either; restaurants, bars and clubs make more income on a lönehelg than at any other time of the month (except maybe at Christmas, Valentine's day ... you get the point). An important cultural facet of Swedish life consists of knowing the song Kung för en dag (king for a day) by the holy saint of pop music Magnus Uggla who is known hysterically and exclusively by Swedish people and absolutely nobody else, anywhere, ever. The song satirically explains exactly what happens to the average dumbo every 25th of the month, who spends all their money in an orgasm of stupidity and then goes back to eating instant noodles on the 26th.

Fortunately I survived my lönehelg with most of my wallet intact. No noodles for me! Break out the champagne everybody!

Day 1472: 4 Years in Sweden

Four years ago, on Saturday 10th August 2013, I moved to Sweden.

And four years ago to the day, on Wednesday 21st August 2013 I received my person number, making me an official part of the Swedish machine and able to pay my kronor to the män.

Looking back at my old blog posts is quite interesting for me, it makes me reflect on how much is so completely normal now that I would not even notice, let alone write a post about.

Here's a trip down my memory lane.

1. Public Art

In some of my earliest posts I wrote some comments about the "strange" public art around, usually derisively. In London there is a total lack of public art in public spaces (although sometimes there is poetry on the tube!) so they really stood out. Now I don't even notice the public art and that's quite sad! Instead I notice how shit everywhere else is without really being able to put my finger on why it's shit...

2. The eternal struggle of the laundry room

In my old flat the laundry room was a novelty in the beginning of my living here and it became a convenience - multiple washing machines at once! A big room to dry clothes! Several dryers! A mangle (that I'll never use) !!! And so socialist, surely it's much better for the environment that everyone shares rather than each person having a private machine?

Well now I live in a new, much bigger, building and Fuck That. I want my own machine! I want to have a clean fluff filter on my dryer that doesn't make my clothes dusty! I want my clothes to dry for as long as they need without running downstairs to hastily grab everything still damp from the drying cupboard so the next wanker can use it! I want to wash after 10 bloody PM if I bloody well feel like it! And most of all, oOoohh most of all, I want to avoid the wash slot booking system that the residents association fucked up and left 3 people with 1 key to the same booking mechanism, so that my booked time is randomly moved around the booking board and makes me believe I am developing Alzheimers because I think I've forgotten which time I booked.

3. Passive Aggressive Swedes

Honestly this is something I've never been a fan of, as my four year old post will attest. I am perpetually amazed by the Swedish dedication to packing their rage down into a decrepit corner of themselves before either a) blasting it out in a well penned note or b) not doing that, and randomly exploding at service personnel in an uncontrolled immense offload that usually has no sense of proportion in relation to the minor or imagined injustice they witnessed.

I'm learning how to drive, and I recently pulled out in front of a fast moving Volvo because I had the right of way. The Volvo did not think I had the right of way and beeped at me. I thought nothing of it because I am a learner and learners make mistakes, but my instructor was worried. Why was she worried? Because very often, drivers who feel slighted by being made to slow down for 2 seconds of their day by a learner will sit on that RAAAAAAGE all the livelong day until they make it to a computer where they will write that well-penned letter and report the driving school for malpractice. Who has that much time and energy to waste being angry all day at a FUCKING SHIT LEARNER DRIVER? Swedish people with comfortable lives and no real problems, that's who.

4. Drinking

I saw some beer in a school and I thought it was because Swedes like to kick back.


No.

Beer is drunk by the following categories of Swedes:

• Old/Middle aged men who drink Pripps Blå with lunch (a korv med bröd or a hamburger) because that's what they've been doing since the 70's and they never got the memo about bowel cancer
• Youth who get fucked up on Friday and Saturday, usually other days too,  live only for that, and hang around in obnoxious groups passive aggressively saying snide comments to passers by but never actually doing anything serious
•  20-30 somethings who say they like fun, but they will make penance for their beer by running or going to the gym every god damn day, so that they only thing they actually have to talk about while drinking beer is how they went running. Repeat ad infinitum

5. Knäckebröd

I commented early on that knäckebröd tastes like cardboard, now I quite like it. I still can't spread butter like a Swede, though.

6. So. Many. Candles

Of all my blog posts, I think I spent the most time researching not one, but two lists of names for candles in this country. I have only continued to be amazed by how much people love them, have them lit for no reason, how many shops are dedicated to them and how important they are for the concept of "mys" (cosy). I can probably not remember all of their names now by heart, but I definitely own a lot of them. I don't light them. Why are they here? How did they get here? A mystery.

7. Language Skillz

Two years ago I passed a TISUS test and recieved a qualification in Swedish language that allows me to study courses in Swedish, and convert my English teaching qualification to the Swedish system.

I am an avid reader in English, an avid speaker in English and, clearly, an avid writer of random crap among other things. I'm even an avid teacher of English! I am none of these things in Swedish, I am not the same person in Swedish. And I never will be.

Do I think I was actually good at Swedish two years ago? No. Do I think I'm good at Swedish now? No. But the system thinks I'm good enough and that's worth a lot to me.

8. Nature

I've really enjoyed being closer to nature here than I ever have been in England, and I'm not even a huge outdoorsy type. I've blogged about being able to ice skate on frozen rinks in winter, about going to the forest to pick berries,  about seeing the northern lights and about picking enough apples to make my own cider! I've now made too much cider and am officially SICK OF IT how cool is that!!?!? Time for a new project... Beer?

9. Etiquette 

Yep, I'm still learning. But I'm getting the hang of it, as one of my better liked posts can attest.

10. The Future?

Sometimes I complain about things, we all do. But overall I have it good here in Swedenland and I'm really grateful. When I look at my old blog posts it's obvious I've had a learning curve, a really nice one, learning a new language, getting to like new food, seeing some amazing places, benefiting from the high quality of home life and work life, meeting new friends.

It is interesting, and sad, to feel more detached from my old home and more attached to my new one, while forever feeling that I don't really belong in either any more.

I don't write about politics much on my blog because that's not my bag, baby. However this is as good a time as any to note that fascism is on the rise everywhere and it just doesn't make sense to an immigrant like me.

There are a lot of people who have left one place and moved to another, who feel like they've been moulded into something new that doesn't quite fit into a preassigned, nationalism-shaped hole and drop down into the waiting box of a homogeneous society.
And if I with my English stereotypes am feeling a bit like I've slipped between the cracks of two nations into the arsecrevice of uncertainty that this metaphor turned into, then I can't even begin to imagine how people whose original culture is nothing like the Swedish one must feel.

Anyone from elsewhere who can make sense of this much darkness, cold, passive-aggressive, self absorbed, gym-obessessed, well designed, self-congratulatory, individualistic yet somehow socialist perfectness, you da real MVP.

Day 1466: Put another coin in the jar

My friends and family have all decided, independently from each other, that I need a jar. It would work a bit like a swear jar, only instead of me adding money every time I swear I would instead add money every time I start a sentence with the words "In Sweden..."

Instead of just telling you all the weird crap that came out of my mouth I've gone for a more interactive format. Come on down and play my:

THINGS ABOUT SWEDEN TAKEN OUT OF CONTEXT GAME!

Here are some things I've said during the last month. See if you can guess why I said them. Answers are lower down, just highlight all the text in the red boxes. Good luck.

1. In Sweden it's legal to hog the middle
2. In Sweden they'd probably put sugar in it
3. In Sweden I get £150 a year towards it
4. In Sweden if a war broke out they could round up the chosen scapegoat group really easily
5. In Sweden there'd be better planning
6. In Sweden it's illegal after four hours because of animal cruelty laws
7. In Sweden there are even more, it feels like there isn't a single woman without one
8. In Sweden it would be worse, they'd start at 7am

1. On the motorway with my sister as she rarely changed lanes 
2. When eating a curry and asked if curry is good in Sweden
3. After my mum asked if I get paid to do exercise
4. Discussing how the Nazis rounded up the Dutch Jews with brutal efficiency because the population register was so organised
5. Showing a friend the construction of a tower block with no parking built in
6. Talking about leaving dogs unattended and how doggy daycare is ridiculously expensive
7. When someone noticed a lot of pregnant women or women with prams
8. Waking up to noisy builders outside the house at 8am every weekday 

How did you score?

0-2 You know nothing, Johannes Snö
3-5 You either know me or Sweden very well
6-7 Were you with me when I said these things?
8 You are me.

Day 1420: Beans, beans the musical fruit.

This weekend I was on salad duty at a BBQ so I made a bean salad as I often do. There's only one ingredient that is tricky to find and I usually just leave it out, but since I'm on my summer hols I actually had time for once to try and find them. Presenting;

HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER RUNNER BEANS

Runner beans are readily available in England but finding them here is trickier. Translator programs can't translate "runner bean" into Swedish because they give "löpande bönor" (running beans) which is probably helpful in an extremely specific situation. Wikipedia suggested rosenbönor as the Swedish translation, so I asked a few Swedish people if they've eaten rosenbönor and suspiciously they had not. I showed them pictures of runner beans, they had never seen them and couldn't give me a name. Brytbönor was one suggestion, but those are large green beans and not the flat runner bean. The confusion stems from the fact that all of these similar beans (green, runner, haricots, kidney, flageolet) come from the family Phaseolus vulgaris and Wikipedia lumps them all together unless you know what to search for and give a specific term.

I basically gave up after that.

But as the picture above can attest, runner beans do, in fact, exist here. They are called skärbönor (cut beans) presumably because you have to cut them into bits before eating. But they're bloody expensive and hard to find, so this supports the theory that Swedish people don't know what they are and don't cook with them. Just one of many foods that vary from place to place!

Day 1413: Balcony Wars

My sister in England has a balcony, sometimes she goes out there for a smoke, the rest of the time it has some malnourished plants on it. Another person I know has a balcony and it serves as a bike rack. One couple have a little strip of a balcony, not quite big enough for furniture, and they use the balcony to take pictures showing everyone how amazing their flat is but then they go inside to share the pictures.

Meanwhile, in Sweden... I returned from holiday only to discover that I have unwittingly entered into a balcony war of one-upmanship with my neighbours, because balconies are SERIOUS BUSINESS over here. And people actually use them.

Actual photo of my balcony

Despite the fact that outdoor areas are basically uninhabitable for half the year, Swedes go to great lengths to decorate their outdoor areas. As summer begins, around about May/June, all the magazines, shopfronts, websites, department stores, newspaper adverts, huge billboards and everything else imaginable go full force with DECORATE YOUR OUTDOOR AREAS. They haven't quite added the OR ELSE yet, but it's implied. And in true keeping with the rest of the typical Swedish house, the balcony gets filled with this season's latest trend consisting in the form of whatever the shop Hemtex has as its latest cloth pattern, and whatever the magazine Sköna Hem churned out from its hulking great impracticality generator.

Like this.

OOh..Aaah so beautiful! So mysigt! (cosy).
Yeh. 'Till it rains like fuck as it always does in the Swedish summer. Apparently summer is either used for going to a cabin somewhere in the woods OR running backwards and forwards putting out and taking in a bunch of fucking pillows and rugs.

What about this:

Wow, such cosmopolitan, very city.
Too bad Stockholm IN NO WAY resembles New York where that picture was clearly taken. Also, are they sure that's not just a cafe they've stolen a picture of? I often wish my balcony was a cafe for 50 people.

Alright, this:

This one's bordering on practical, it's just some metal furniture from IKEA and a plant box. And then 5 strings of PAPER LANTERNS that you have to fucking RUN OUT AND COLLECT IN A MESSY BUNCH when your romantic date moves inside but you look out and its PREDICTABLY RAINING. Also, eating Al Fresco in Sweden, let me tell you about that. You optimistically put all that shit outside, forks and plates and crap, then you sit there with your food and you're either SWEATING LIKE A BITCH within 5 minutes if you get sun on your balcony, or you need 5 layers of clothing before giving up and going inside if you're in the shade.

Fine, this one then:

Oh I hate to be a killjoy (who am I kidding I love being a killjoy) but NO BBQ OPEN FLAME ALLOWED ON THE BALCONY. Also just FYI nobody really likes rattan, it's fugly, hard to clean, rots and you're kidding yourself when you say its rustic and charming. Also, this brings me conveniently to another big point, carpets. Always with the carpets. Never IN the house, only OUTSIDE. Oh Sweden, you silly.

Anyway, how have I entered into a war with my neighbours? By planting some vegetables. The balcony here was a bit neglected (hey, I am English) we even forgot to take down the furniture in the winter so it sat in the elements getting covered in snow and having its lifetime merrily reduced. But then the spring came and my boyfriend killed my indoor tomato plant so I bought lots of those boxes that hang on the balcony and planted peas, parsley, rocket...well, lots of things. And what do you know? Plants look quite nice!

Cue nearest neighbour, whose balcony up to this point boasted an orange plastic chair requisitioned from inside and an old fanta bottle filled with cigarette butts, suddenly investing in what I am reliably informed is called a "café set" aka a couple of chairs and a small table. Then 6 window boxes of herbs. And a plant pot on the floor that looked vaguely similar to my own. Also candles...and a ceramic frog.

Next thing I know, the balcony opposite is no longer half obscured with a moulding bamboo mat, no. Now it has...wait, are those...herbs and edible plants? In a variety of window boxes? Plus they've put a HEMTEX©®™ tablecloth over their Café Set©®™. And some fairy lights, aww. WELL LOOK WHAT I JUST BOUGHT MOTHERFUCKERS. 

Fairy lights, aww.

Day 1392: Buy and come

It's certainly a catchy advertising campaign this pharmacy has gone with. It would never get past the British censors.

Come and buy! Buy and come!

Britain has come a long way since Boots pharmacy started selling sex toys, I was amazed by (read: I cringed at) how dated this article from 2004 sounds, with such prudish rediculousness as:

"Unless one derives a certain pleasure from such activities, does one really want to purchase one's raspberry ripple-flavoured lube alongside those buying haemorrhoid cream and waterproof pants?"

Nevertheless, I think I'll have to wait another decade or more before I see dildo adverts on the London underground.

Day 1385: Squeeze day

"How do you translate klämdag to English?" asked my driving instructor today. "It's not squeeze day, is it?"

No.

The sad fact is that British and American people take work far too seriously to be even semi capable of accepting the existence of a day off for no reason other than that it is placed between two other days off.

If there is a bank holiday on a Tuesday or a Thursday then it is generally accepted that little to no work should be done on the intervening Monday or Friday. Everybody likes a four day weekend, even the boss. In summer there are three potential klämdagar, one just after the first of May, one just after Ascension day at the end of May and then immediately another one on the 5th June just before National Day. This year the latter two fall on Tuesdays so there has been a blissful diminishing of the total number of Mondays in the year.

There has been a noble attempt to make klämdagar about klämning (squeezing) of boobs, to raise awareness of breast cancer:

But then when they made the English posters, the term "squeeze day" didn't translate so well...

First of all, why is squeezeday all one word? And secondly, what even is a squeeze day!? And third off, why should there be a squeeze day every month if we don't know what the real meaning of squeeze day is?

Ah, perhaps a squeeze day is a day with Capri Sun..?

Happy squeezin'!