Day 45: Heart Day

Valentine’s day has always been one of my favorite holidays. I just LOVE love and I am a hopeless romantic. I love hearts. I even collect stones that I find that resemble hearts, and the more abstract they are the more I love them. One of the first gifts Carl gave me when we were first dating was a heart sculpture that he bought when he was in Sweden visiting his family. It is a simple, carved, wooden heart, painted red and perched on a rod in the center of a small cement block. I loved it so much that on my first trip with him to Sweden the following year I bought its sister sculpture to add to my collection. My new one was twice as tall and the heart was painted white instead of red. The next year we bought a third version made by the same artist and it was at that point that my husband told me I needed to start being more selective when it came to overwhelming our house with hearts. We were living together now and this news was somewhat sad. He liked hearts too but just not quite as much as me. Okay. I think I can deal with that. I thought.

After traveling to Sweden with him the first time I was pleasantly surprised by all of the hearts I saw everywhere, tucked into little nooks and crannies. Hearts on paper napkins, hearts on signs and in restaurants, heart Christmas ornaments, and hearts incorporated into a great deal of the art and handcrafts I would see around. It is almost like the heart-shape is a national symbol of Sweden. It isn’t really but there seem to be hearts everywhere. I was in heaven. And I thought that he must obviously love them as much as me. I mean he came from this amazing, heart wonderland.

Even though I am on a heart limitation I still manage to sneak hearts into the house here and there. Last year I found this really, fun, heart garland with hearts made of varying sizes of birch bark, linked on a twine string. Of course I bought it and I hung it on the end of one of our curtain rods. So far it has managed to stay put. I have to admit however that even I do not want a home with hearts decorating every surface possible and I see the value in being more selective with the ones we do acquire. It makes them more special and it also plays into my desire to find things that are unique and original. Anyone can make a symmetrical heart and paint it red. It’s the ones that are a little bit funky, a little bit off-center that really draw my attention. So in the meantime I will look for Valentine’s Day to roll around each year and celebrate it with gusto as I wait for the perfectly imperfect hearts to find their way to me.

Day 44: A Good Book

Even before I moved to Sweden I was already on the lookout for ways to acclimate, even if I did this subconsciously. It was probably my third summer visit to Sweden. We were in Gothenburg visiting my husband’s family and I thought it would be nice to have an afternoon of shopping and lunch with my mother-in-law. We were dining at one of the hotel restaurants in the middle of the downtown area and I overheard the ladies at the table across from us speaking English. My ears perked up and, being the American that I am, on our way out I stopped by their table to ask if they were traveling or if they lived in Gothenburg. They lived in Sweden and were actually part of a local club called The American Women’s Club and were out for a dinner and movie event. How fun I thought. I filed it away in the back of my mind, along with all of the other bits and pieces of mostly useless and occasionally useful information.

Jump forward to present day. Tonight is my book club meeting with the Stockholm American Women’s Club group. Yes, I joined up after we moved here. It has been a good way to keep in touch with English speaking women who seem to understand without explanation my experience and reality living here in Sweden. It is not a good or bad thing. It is just simpler. Perhaps it is because we all have a similar cultural background that links us together. I don’t know for sure but it is a nice break from my broken Swedish conversations and feelings of inadequacy and not belonging in a foreign land. And I love to read so there is that.

I never know with the books selected if it will be a good read or a not so good read. With one book in particular I found myself re-reading the previous chapter every time I decided to pick it up and try to get into it. It could not hold my interest and I found my mind wandering through my things-to-do lists or simply day-dreaming. There were simply too many facts to remember and not enough plot to draw me in so I gave up. I put it aside and forgot about it.

This most recent book however turned out to be an excellent read. In the beginning I was not immediately drawn in but I forged on and was glad that I did. Some books don’t grab you right away. They are like a cat stalking you in the dark. You since something but you don’t really know that there is a soft, purring warmness waiting to cuddle up with you or brush against your legs. This book finally found me and curled right up in my lap. It stayed there purring until I completed it.
There is something magical about a good book. It transports you to another place and time. Your mind takes a vacation and when you return you really do feel refreshed.

Day 43: Green Food

"It's nearly 7:00pm. I guess we need to think about dinner,” my husband observed. My stomach had started to protest as well. What to make? Usually I like to have an idea of what I'm going to cook earlier in the day. That way I can go to the grocery store if need be to pick up any missing ingredients. Today however was consumed with a lazy morning followed by an invigorating bike ride out and about in the wintry, Swedish day, and ending with freshly, baked bread picked up from our local bakery and heading home for a light lunch and an afternoon of reading and relaxation. The weather was a gorgeous stretch of blue sky with the brightness of the sun reflected in the crisp, white snow. The perfect yang to yesterday’s yin.

But back to dinner. I saw a photo online of a pasta dish that looked delicious. It was spaghetti with cauliflower and basil topped with grated parmesan cheese. There was my inspiration. I didn’t bother reading or even looking at the recipe because I knew we had some broccoli in the fridge and I would build the dish from there. I decided to combine the broccoli with some sauteed shallots, pan-fried fakon (fake bacon), a cup of vegetable broth and toss it with the spaghetti and then top it off with parmesan cheese and some arugula leaves. Fresh, green, delicious food. When I think of vegetables, green ones always come to mind. I never feel like I am eating a vegetable if it isn’t green. Maybe my body craves the chlorophyll in the leafy greens. I am not sure but the meal was excellent and fast. We had everything prepared, eaten and cleaned up within forty-five minutes. That’s what I call a Happy Meal.

Day 42: Cloudy Day

Most of the time when the weekend rolls around I am really hoping for beautiful, sunny days. Being holed up in my office at work all week, the thought of a sunny day during which I can go for a nice bike ride or walk and get a nice dose of vitamin D is the recipe for a perfect weekend. Today however I could not be bothered with sunshine. It was a grey, overcast day outside and I stay inside the entire day, napping, hanging out with our kitty and reading. It was completely lovely and rejuvenating and I did not feel cheated out of a weekend day like I normally would without the sunshine to cheer me on.

It was a bit unusual for me because I am definitely a sunny day kind of girl. I would be perfectly happy with never having a cloudy or rainy day. To me rain is for night time, a white noise to help with sleeping. It should be beautiful and clear when morning comes so that we can enjoy a blue sky and some golden rays. This cloudy day however was welcomed and embraced. Now if tomorrow is sunny the weekend will be perfect.

Day 41: Entertaining

I spent the better part of the morning in a foul mood. It dragged into lunch and I found myself sitting at a cafe, eating my vegetarian plate-of-the-day and feeling sorry for myself. My shoulder still hurt. A LOT. After going to physical therapy for three weeks, it seemed to be worse now than when I started. I was not feeling my best physically, which always seems to affect me emotionally as well. I didn't want to go back to work and I fantasized about just leaving the cafe and going home, calling my boss to say that I had fallen ill and wouldn't be coming back to the office today. Sounded like a good plan.

Instead I picked myself up by the bootstraps and dragged myself back to the office. I took a different route thinking it might change my mood to see different scenery. I was really trying to find the happy in today. I got to the bottom of the hill and a little, old man passed in front of me. He was wobbly but here he was out taking a walk in the -10 C cold (16 F). I wondered where he was off to and I secretly admired him as I trudged up the hill to my office. One of my colleagues came back from lunch while I was still getting out of my coat and winter gear and he had a client with him. I was not in the mood to make small talk so I introduced myself quickly, shook hands and disappeared upstairs to the safety of my desk.

Turns out the client was actually one of our Germany colleagues. He was here in Stockholm for the weekend to visit some friends and came by our office to see our showroom and give us some pointers with our light calculation software that we’ve had some issues with recently. Then it struck me. I suddenly felt the desire to hostess and I offered to run down to the local bakery to pick up some pastries so we could have “fika” with our guest. Everyone liked the idea and so off I went, back down the hill to pick up some semlor, a traditional Swedish pastry that is eaten between Fat Tuesday, or Fettisdagen, and Easter.

I realized that having my focus outside of me and on entertaining another person, I was able to finally shake loose that grouchiness that had taken over my day. I actually enjoyed our coffee break with our guest and I was able to finish my day at the office with the corners of my mouth turned up instead of down. Now I’m going to continue the entertaining streak and go entertain our kitty and cook dinner with my husband. It’s taco night, after all.

Day 40: A Cup Of Tea

Sometimes amid the stress of my day, running after-work errands in the cold and snow, picking up a few needed groceries and all of the commute-related, chaos around me, a simple, hot, cup of tea is the perfect pick-me-up. It is not demanding of my attention. There is no deadline to meet or conversing required. There is no jostling from fellow travelers. There is just the moment. The quiet, still moment, breathing in the fragrance of the steeping leaves, sitting thoughtfully and taking the time to just be.

A cup of tea can be just the thing needed to transform my day when there is a black cloud hovering over me. Nothing else is needed, although a good book, a soft, wool blanket and a warm, black kitty wouldn’t be turned down. The silence combined with the soothing, warm liquid invigorates me, perks up my senses and leaves me refreshed. Think I’ll put the hot water kettle on…

Day 38: Seeing Red

I see many interesting things and people on my way to work as I take public transportation or,"åker kommunalt," as they say here in Sweden. Most of the time there is a sea of black around me as we all drift from one train to the next, with a splash of color here and there in the form of a brightly, hued scarf or hat. Occasionally there is a “färgglad”, or colorful, coat floating among the crowd. But for the most part everyone, including myself, is clad in black, or shades of black. I personally like black but most people in Sweden wear it to blend in. No one should stick out too much or make too much of a splash.

As I was coming down the stairs into what I refer to as the dungeon (the tunnel for the blue subway line which is the furthest underground of all of the lines) an older gentleman whizzed past me, sticking out in a red, down jacket, blue jeans and red, leather, tennis shoes. The red tennis shoes really topped it off for me. I don't know exactly why but seeing this older man with grey hair dressed that way made me smile all over. I wouldn’t think twice seeing a younger person here dressed in this manner but when I see older men here in the city they are generally dressed in slacks and a fancy (black, or grey) overcoat. It really brightened my day to see this young-at -heart gentleman in his “färgglad” coat and tennis shoes.

I will admit that it is much more often that I see men wearing brightly, colored clothing in Sweden than in the U.S. Many men here even wear red, skinny jeans. I keep asking Carl when he is going to get a pair of skinny jeans but the farthest he’ll go is really, long shorts (or capris pants) and red crocks.