Day 376: The mystery of Jif

I'm marking a comeback after my 2 months away from Sweden with an extensively researched article about Jif. That'll regain any lost readers!

I was cleaning the other day (been away, shit gets dirty) and had the revelation that I was using Jif. It was a revelation because I use Cif in England all the time and had instinctively shopped for this particular product without taking any notice of the name.

In England, Jif changed to Cif in 2000 with a massive advertising campaign to make sure nobody stopped buying Cif just because they couldn't find Jif any more. I wanted to link to the incredibly patronising advert, which features several idiotic people "from the continent" failing to pronounce the letter J in Jif and then states that everyone in England now has to have Cif instead, but I can't find it. Instead, here's a description of the advert written by the company contracted to make the advert. It must have been all over the place and on the TV every five minutes, because it's been 14 years and I still remember every detail of the advert, right down to the stupid blonde woman saying "Khhhiiiif?? Khhiiiif??" while making a face like she had shit in her mouth.

Business news reports that the name change to Cif was overwhelmingly successful while popular opinion laments the change and wants Jif back. All that is irrelevant here, though, as the main thing I need explaining to me is this:

Why did Unilever change Jif to Cif in England, where J is a commonly occuring hard sound in the English language, and keep the name Jif in Scandinavia where the letter J is a much less common sound which has a sort of Y noise?

It's basically called Yif here. It is therefore pronounced in exactly the way the patronising advert told us NOT to. What the hell, Unilever. What. The. Hell.

Unilever are still, in 2014, making people shake their heads with their shitty advertising campaigns for Jif/ Cif/ Gif/ Fliff/ Pliff/ Handy Andy/ whatever it's called. Check it out! I never would have kept up with that particular current affair if I wasn't so vigilant in the shower, and that's a free life lesson for you all.

I'll leave you with this gem I found while looking for the advert. Vi ses!

Day 301: Studenten

Around the age of 18, Swedish students graduate from Gymnasium and celebrate the end of a long, tough period of exams and study. So far, nothing strange about that. Many students drink copiously and make a lot of noise, some buy air horns and some scream and sing at the tops of their voices. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. Families are very proud and many buy gifts for their children to congratulate them for their hard work. Still not saying anything odd.

What I neglected to mention is that the students are mostly pissed out of their heads while driving around on the back of a truck, they slowly trundle through regular traffic blasting their airhorns and screaming or throwing things at passers by. They decorate their trucks with the gifts their families give them, bouquets specially designed to hang off the side or little cuddly toys which I can only assume represent the end of childhood as they bash and bump the side of the truck and get slowly soaked in the alcohol of adulthood. Some trucks also have a theme, my only photographic evidence of this madness shows a Turkish truck which drove around Fridhemsplan and could be heard in a 2km radius.

Stockholm seemed extra busy, full of parents and families carrying gifts, flowers and large signs to announce their children's successes. Traditionally the signs feature a childhood picture of the student for extra embarrassment factor.

Later, families celebrate together in a money hemorrhaging exercise involving barbeque, food, cakes, booze and togetherness. The entire enterprise can cost thousands after truck hire, hats, party clothes, signs, air horns, booze, party hosting and more, at least according to the metro newspaper.

Fortunately for me I was invited to celebrate a student and I took a nice picture to embarras- to commemorate the day! Note the student hat, which all students are entitled to, the flair hanging round the neck and the big childhood photo on the sign!

My own student graduation consisted of the school hosting a club night for all the graduating students. While it was memorable seeing all the teachers drunk off their tits, the druggy crowd daringly on coke in front of the whole staff and the turkish contingent deliberately smashing all the glasses on the floor, I think the Swedes add some interesting extra touches to the affair. After all, my consecutive Uni life basically consisted of the same club nights, but I'm sure Swedish students only get one opportunity to wear the hat, carry the sign and terrorise town on a truck!

Day 298: Wrong use of biscuits

Today my Swedish boyfriend was eating this.

WHAT THE FUCK!

They're Digestive biscuits with salami and cheese.

Let's read that again.

That is a plate of fucking SALAMI and CHEESE with DIGESTIVE fucking BISCUITS.

Now, somewhere my English mother and sister are thinking "Oh well, a bit of cheese on a Digestive might be quite nice" so maybe I can forgive the cheese (these two also advocate cheese on hot cross buns for some diabolical reason) but the salami is an unforgivable crime.

As a child growing up in England we used to get a Jacobs cracker selection box at Christmas. It contained cream crackers, mini cheddars, pepper crackers, water biscuits, wholemeal crackers and a few sneaky bastard Digestives who should not have been in a cracker box.

Crackers are crispy and tasteless or crispy and salty. They are SAVOURY and can be eaten with SAVOURY foods. Biscuits are crumbly and sweet. You dunk them in tea and they are great, or you can melt chocolate and marshmallows on them for smores if your diabetes isn't progressing fast enough. As a child I was always outraged that Digestives made the cut into the cracker selection box and people thought that meant you could eat them with cheese.

Now I'm extra incensed that Swedish people (by Swedish people I am assuming that because my boyfriend does it, all swedes cop the blame) think it's okay to eat Digestives as a cracker with salami, pickles, ham, or any of the other WRONG items I have seen the bf eating.

And worst of all, he eats these Digestives without a CUPPA TEA!

I might have to move back to England!

Day 294: Rain Clouds

Taken by Andrew Matthews/PA for the guardian

In England when you see a cloud like this, you run.

A clear summer sky which is suddenly dominated by an ominous cloud means at any moment you are going to get drenched. The rain materialises in one massive downpour lasting only a few minutes and leaving you looking like a drowned rat. I've seen people try to outrun such rain, they failed. I've seen people huddle under trees to avoid such rain, they failed. I've even seen people stand in the relative cover of a building with an umbrella to get away from such rain and, you've guessed it, they failed. The best option is to make a dash for the nearest shop when you see a black cloud. This often results in you running to a sex shop you wouldn't normally go into and huddling awkwardly in the doorway like a water-averse pervert.

Today when this cloud appeared over Stockholm a mad a dash for the nearest shop, where I spent 5 minutes looking, with mild to nonexistent interest, at second hand cooking utensils.  When I dared to leave the shop I found it was indeed raining but it was a kind of rain which English people would call piddle. It was piddling down. It was the kind of shitty, noncommittal rain which drops so intermittently you can walk around it. I'd made all that effort to respect the power of the rain and avoid it, only to find out the rain here demands no respect. If the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain then the rain in Stockholm doesn't fall, mainly.  It lulls you into a false sense of insecurity and then drops a few token drops.

UPDATE: Later there was, in fact, a thunderstorm! But not a lot of rain...

Day 291: Shitty, shitty trains!

There are daily complaints about trains in England. Our railways are a joke, our trains never run on time, there are leaves on the line stopping anyone getting home and please, please, nobody mention a millimetre of snow! But...boy can we complain about it. It's in the news, its on the TV, we're mobbing the railway stations and we're vocal about how terrible things are. And even though fares still increase in price and we can't get things running on time, at least train companies know we're pissed off and give us as much information as they can in a clear way.

Not here.

No.

My mum visited and was on a train to Uppsala. It was not leaving the station because of signal failure. I took her off the train and we went to the pub instead. 3 hours later we returned to catch the train, and realised the people on it were the same ones who we'd left 3 hours ago. Those people had sat on that train, with no information given, for 3 hours. With no food, no drink and no knowledge of how long they would be there. And nobody complained!

This week has been an absolute disaster for the train companies. All over Sweden there have been strikes, broken signal systems, fires and burnt out circuits. If you don't believe how bad it's been, take a look at this article from the metro. One spokesperson has helpfully pointed out that Sweden has a "non-robust railway system" NO REALLY? But hey, whatever, stuff breaks and I can deal.

What I hate though is the piss poor information the companies give to travellers. There are 2 companies, SJ and SL. At different points in the week these companies have given different information. When they say there will be replacement busses, they don't say where from (they've started to now, but it's taken them a week.) They also do unbelievably poorly conceived quick fixes, like making a rush hour train terminate at Arlanda airport and having 300 people walk through 4 revolving door systems designed for individual people, a terminal building, a packed arrivals hall and a bus station so narrow they could never have expected such a crowd. Then, just to put the tin lid on it, they send 2 busses to carry all these people.

And that was a nice version of my commute story, I skipped the part where I waited 40 minutes for the train - a train that ran, like all the others, according to no schedule so I just had to turn up at the railway station and hope for the best.

A week on and the companies still haven't got a working replacement system. Perhaps if people were more outraged, demanded their money back, called the complaints line, got angry or did more than just bend over and take it up the arse, perhaps, PERHAPS the companies might have realised they should get their shit together.

Or maybe I'm finding the wrong scapegoat for this. Whatever it is, WOW the train companies here suck balls.

Day 282: Do you have a flag?

You know what's not popular in England?


Wearing the Union Jack, displaying the Union Jack, carrying a Union Jack, eating food with a Union Jack on, jacking off with a Union Jack (okay nobody does that but I like writing Jack. Not Jack as in "Jack shit" but just the word Jack. I'll stop now) The flag of choice for Flag events is the St. George's Cross, but unless it's the World Cup people will probably assume you're a racist for hanging it outside your house or wearing it in any way. Worst of all is having it shaved into your head. Still, it is something I've seen around. My mum had a pair of St.Georges cross flip-flops that came free in a newspaper for the last World Cup and she looked more and more like a racist as the World Cup fell further and further behind us. Eventually they broke and she got a nice non-racist pair.

You know what's popular in Sweden?

The Union Jack. How did you guess! Clever you.

I've seen more Union Jacks in Sweden than I ever cared to see in England. Parents of children I teach wear Union Jack handbags and I haven't yet figured out if they're doing it for my sake. Children of parents whose children I teach (wait what?) also wear the Union Jack as hair ribbons, iPhone cases, canvas shoes and T-shirts. Nobody wears the Swedish flag and I'm thinking of starting a trend. If it's just me on my own though, that's not a trend, that's just SAD.

WAIT

I googled flag clothes and these Keds are actually quite nice...

AAAaaaand they're sold out. That means someone else already started my trend? I will keep my eyes peeled.

Day 278: That moment you realise...

...you live in a Trivial Pursuit house!

Day 273: Läkerol Review Raspberry Lemongrass

Läkerol are small, round pastilles that become gummy while you leave them in your mouth and fulfill the function of a mint but with a variety of flavours. Essentially they're sweets for grown-ups, designed to hide the fact that you're a big kid by being packaged in a neat little cardboard box with a well-designed sealing lid. Also you can't give them to kids (like I did) as they are liable to eat all of them at once (like the kid I gave them to did) and they can cause the shits (fortunately I told him to spit them all out before that happened as I didn't want his parents to get me fired.)

Allow me to review a range of flavours for your interest as I embark upon a trail much tread by Swedish snackers, with an English palette. 

My first taste of Läkerol was actually the Salt liquorice flavour which is the most popular and deserves a blog post of its own, it was given to me on a plane by someone sitting next to me and it was so disgusting I spat it out in their face. But that's another story.Today I'll review the first box I bought for myself in the shop:

Raspberry Lemongrass

Motivation: I bought these because I'm a sucker for advertising (see the Ramlösa post.) They look fruity and delicious, plus lemongrass is an interesting additional flavour.

Smell: These have no particular smell, just a bit fruity. Not overwhelming and not particularly raspberryish. Definitiely no lemongrass smell in there.

Taste: Unidentifiable fruit taste, not really raspberry (I read the ingredients. It's grape and apple.) IT'S LIES ALL LIES. THERE IS NO LEMONGRASS. HOW DO THEY GET AWAY WITH THIS BARE FACED LYING!

Summary: 5/10 would eat again because they take the edge off the smell of sweaty train carriage when commuting but on the other hand I MIGHT BOYCOTT THEM FOREVER AS I WANT MY DAMN LEMONGRASS. I recommend eating a piece of lemongrass while also eating a raspberry while also eating a läkerol for full effect, but that might be a bit cumbersome.

Day 268: Ramlösa...Bleeech!

Ramlösa is a Swedish sparkling water which is popular here. It is in fact, very popular. Many Swedes shun the cheaper brands of water to take Ramlösa instead. I have also heard it claimed that Ramlösa tastes like high quality water while Loka tastes "bad". Now maybe I'm just a water philistine, I had problems in France because I don't like Perrier, but to me sparkling water tastes like lead pipes and I will choose the El Cheapo bottle of still every time.

Unless, like yesterday, I was somehow tricked into thinking that the fruity sparkling waters would be delicious and refreshing. I deliberated a long time between Pear and Mango, wonderful sweet fruits with a unique flavour I'm sure you'll agree. There was some trepidation in the back of my mind, since the last time I bought a bottle of Ramlösa with the flavour of Lemon-Lime it tasted like the smell your hands get after you sort a sack of old coins.

But I gave the Mango the benefit of the doubt, because mangoes are delicious! what on Earth could go wrong! When I opened the lid there was a promising "whoosh" of fizz and the smell of Mango! Yes!

Of course it tasted like metal.

Steadily the bottle got warm in my bag over the course of the day, until I had warm flavoured metal. I hope I never fool myself into buying Ramlösa again when what I really want is one of these bad boys:

 

Day 263: Much Financial

An internet meme is a repetitive joke spread virally and contributed to by the denizens of the internet. Imagine my surprise when Doge made his way off the computer screen and into the Stockholm metro.

I'm not exactly sure who the target audience of this advert is, as so far only one of my students, a 12 year old boy, has recognised where the joke comes from and now subjects me to a barrage of "MUCH FINANCIAL! HAHAHAHA MUCH FINANCIAL! MUCH FINANCIAL!" every lesson. Furthermore, the commuter newspaper Metro asked around to find out if anyone even recognised Doge. Apparently they did not.

The summer ticket being advertised costs a whopping 2400 krona (thats about £230 or $170) which I'm sure is more than the average 12 year old boy can manage, even if he is much financial (has much financial? owns much financial?)