This morning I read in Dagens Nyheter (Swedish only) that the royal palace in Stockholm has finally been lit up at nights and the results are impressive.




If you open the link to the article, there are pictures at the side showing the before and after shots and I think you will agree that the new lighting enhances the view. I've never particularly liked the palace building itself. Yes, it's big, boasting a whopping 608 rooms, but it is rather a square, utilitarian, severe and dour looking building and really never shakes off the original cold fortress look. What saves it from getting one of my Fugly Building Awards is the setting itself - overlooking the glittering waters of the Baltic. I can forgive almost any kind of architectural style if it can command a water view and in Stockholm, you are surrounded by water.

There has been a long discussion about lighting of significant public buildings in the city. There are those who argue for the full Disney-land treatment and a strong core of those who want it all dark, but it seems that the middle way is slowly winning and several buildings were tentatively lit up over winter to gauge public opinion. This has largely been positive and the palace with it's dignified lighting looks quite spectacular, so I hope it will extend to other major buildings as well.

At the moment, there is a decreasing need for artificial lighting as the days are lengthening at a rapid rate as we say goodbye to winter once again. The icicles that have been decorating my balcony for the last three months are finally melting and everything I do is accompanied by the noise of water dripping.




Outside the sun is returning and small oases of grass can be seen here and there, though I don't want to derive any real hope from this just yet. I know that as soon as I do express any hope, the snow will surely arrive! Sod's law, what can I say? But there has been progress. My clever man has put together a couple of photos taken three weeks apart so you can compare the difference yourself. First a building just down the road:




I know, I know - the "before" shot is much prettier. I agree that the snow and blue skies is enchanting and the early spring in the northern hemisphere looks all wrong to our southern eyes, but Swedes rejoice at that sight. To explain to Swedish readers, in Australia spring is really green and fresh in colour. We have had winter rains, mild weather and the plants are lush, green with bursts of bright flowers. Many of our native trees never lose their leaves, so in spring it is a profusion of new growth, nothing like the vaguely yellowed and dead looking landscape that you see in the northern hemisphere. I'm more used to it now, but the first couple of years confused my senses totally.

The next shot is of the cars parked in the street behind our building:




Man, that first red car is still parked there! Yes, I'd say this looks better. At least you don't have to bring a shovel with you to get out of your parking place. I cracked up at the little box of equipment Lars-Göran used to keep in the Saab - little brushes, shovel, scraper etc. But as I've mentioned before, it is all a necessary part of the joys of winter motoring in Sweden.

And finally, the main street outside the supermarket:




Well, there's not much you can do to improve the ghastly frontage of the shop (you'd cry if you could see what they ripped down to build this colossal piece of fugliness) but it does look a little less depressing without the white blanket, though you'd be wise to keep your skates on as the road is now slick and deadly.

Over the winter, I had vivid dreams of walking through the woods in a chorus of bluebirds under a canopy of fresh apple blossoms — those dreams kept me going when the snow was deep, temperatures plummeted, and the wind howled in the eaves. For the first time this year, I can believe it is possible. Now I sit on the balcony, with my back against the wall and raise my face to the good Spring sunshine, in the wise words of Clarissa Pinkola Estes, "lifting my heart toward heaven like a hungry beggar".

In the space of twenty four hours, we have been greeted with the fickle face of early spring that plunged us from sunshine and hope back to the grey, depressing colours of February and November.

Winter in Sweden can be totally beautiful so I am always a little sad to say farewell. It is really a fairy tale beauty that gives you a feeling of peace. The darkness and snow etc, can dampen the noises around you, cocoon and isolate you. It's really nice to sit down with some tea or chocolate, by the gentle glow of candlelight to keep that darkness at bay. At the same time, of course, it's cold, it's snowy and everything becomes a struggle. When you need to go to the shop, it takes 15 minutes just to get dressed to get outside. Everything feels as though it has to be planned, which make you tend to do less. But there is still the beauty when you do go out.




While its sunny enough to enjoy a picnic, not many are brave enough to try it out for some reason. On the weekend it was sunny and everything glistened in the first real warmth of the season. The roads were crammed with people out walking around and enjoying the first signs of spring. Even the thaw which created large pools of water on the roads looked magical in the sunlight, especially with the bare trees reflected in them and flanked by the snowbanks.




The beach is still covered in snow and the shallow inlets are icy, though the ice is cracking into large pieces that will soon break free in the sunshine and drift away, gradually being absorbed back into the sea. It is so good to watch the seasons change like this and I was hopeful that we were about to look forward to a season of sunshine and growth. When we moved the clocks forward to summer time and the evenings lengthened overnight, it felt like we'd turned the corner.




That however was Sunday! On Monday, everything changed. Early Spring strikes again, reminding me that generally I don't like it at all. It's muddy as the snow disappears and the trees and hedges are bare and naked - almost dead looking. The colours of early spring are yellow (the grass as it is uncovered after three months under snow) or grey. I forgot that one day it can be rain, the next it can be hot and then it can snow the day after. It's all about creating false hopes, then crushing them. That's what I thought when I looked out at town this morning.




What has made the scene even more dispiriting is the damp fog and the fact that the council has trimmed the trees rather drastically making everything look so dead. What a contrast to the same scene just a week ago. I peer from my favourite look out and cannot even see the harbour a few metres away. The end of winter is hard. The days lighten but still it is cold. The shops are full of summer clothes but still it is cold. Girls dress optimistically, in light jackets and flirty skirts, but still it is cold. And damp.




There is probably no day greeted with greater joy and anticipation than the first days of spring -- especially after a Swedish winter. When spring arrives we anticipate the gifts of sun filled days, flower scented breezes and a warmth to the air that has been missing since September. Sometimes, the only thing that gets us through February is knowing that better days are on the way. So when March springs a February day on us, it feels doubly bad as we feel we ought to be past that. So I find my mood nosediving with the advent of days like this and it can be hard to motivate myself to actually attack my long to-do list.




We have a busy schedule from now until when we leave in mid-May. As well as preparing the boat, organising charts etc we have birthday parties, drinks, dinners and fikas with friends and family to jam in somewhere. It will be Easter in a few weeks as well and we are looking forward to Madde coming home from India in mid April. In between I need to bribe Annelie to watch Lambi so we can go along to the National Museum of Fine Arts and see the new exhibition featuring the nineteenth century works of the so-called Skagen painters Anna and Michael Ancher, the Norwegian artists Oda and Christian Krohg, Karin and Carl Larsson, the Scottish artists Margaret Macdonald and Charles Rennie Mackintosh plus Sigrid Hjertén and Isaac Grünewald and the English artists Vanessa Bell och Duncan Grant. It's on until May 14th if anyone in Stockholm is interested in going (entrance fee 80kr).

Honestly, I look at what I have to do and the remaining time I have at my disposal and want to crawl under my quilt and hide. Luckily, my sweet man is here to keep up my spirits and encourage me to smile. Today he came home with a bunch of sunny, yellow tulips and Andrea Bocelli's new CD Amore.

Maybe good weather and fun times are really on the way.

As many of you know, our boat is a classic Scandinavian built OE-36 - one of the boats designed by world renowned Swedish designer Olle Enderlein. There is a club here, the OE Yacht Club of Scandinavia, set up for people who own any of the boats in the OE fleet and we have been involved in this club for the last four years. There are members from all over Sweden and this year for a change, the main annual meeting was held in the west coast city of Göteborg. This is Sweden's chief seaport and second largest city and lies about 500 km southwest of Stockholm. As one of our friends, Bosse, was driving down for the meeting, Lars-Göran decided to go along as well. Anne and I didn't go as it would entail taking Friday off work and as the plan was to drive there, attend the dinner, sleep at a friend's home and drive back on Saturday it seemed a lot of effort for just a few hours.

The boys left bright and early on the frosty Friday. Everything here still looked very wintery and beautiful as they quickly passed through town and hit the open road.




The church you can see here is in nearby Sorunda, dating from the twelfth century. It looks so different in winter compared to how it looks on a summer's day. After Sorunda, it was a matter of joining the main south-west highway and drive through the snowy countryside. There were several breaks along the way for coffee and fresh rolls, but the outdoor conditions did not encourage lingering for long.




There is no really direct route across Sweden as the way is blocked by two enormous lakes. The easiest way is to head to the tip of one lake, follow it roughly south west, then head northwest up towards Göteborg. They made really good time and were able to stop for lunch by Lake Vättern just on the outskirts of Jönköping. We will be sailing through this area in a few weeks time, so I hope it has thawed out a bit more by then. It still looks quite Arctic out on the water. As it is a fresh water lake, it will take a little longer than the sea takes to be completely ice free.




As they reached Göteborg, the temperatures rose, the air was milder and in the actual city itself, there was no sign of the snowy white blanket that covers the east coast and there was a feeling of spring in the air. In general the climate is much milder on the west coast because of the north atlantic stream that brings warm currents to the area. Where we get snow, it is rain that is more common over here. I'm not so sure I'd like that. However, at the moment, Göteborg looks like it is in another country - a country with no snow and lots of warm sunshine.




First stop was to drop off the bags at the house where they were staying for the night. The home owners have two cats and in no time at all, they zeroed in on the new things in the room and started investigating them thoroughly. I adore cats, have always had them as pets and actually I prefer them to dogs (don't tell Lambi I said that!) I especially like the way they just go off and do their own thing regardless of your views on the matter.




The boys then went to the meeting and dinner afterwards. Lars-Göran tells me that he spoke a lot at the meeting, but as it was after he'd had a couple of glasses of wine, he can't remember what he said! However, he enjoyed meeting the west coast members who are very open and friendly - so much so that we have a summer invitation to visit them when we are over that way. Perhaps he didn't say anything unforgivable after all.




The night was punctuated by visits from the cats - several times Lars-Göran awoke to see the tabby one sitting on him and staring intently at his face. He could hear the ginger cat meow a few times, but it wasn't till morning that he discovered the cat inside the clothing cupboard! Life is never dull with cats around and this one at least tried to make itself useful by helping out with the washing up.




After the breakfast farewells, the boys retraced their steps back to the east coast. This included a stop for coffee at the same place near Jönköping where they stopped on the way over. And what a difference a day of sunshine makes - it looked so different with the ice starting to disappear. It won't be long before the shore is lined with water birds bickering over nesting spots and potential mates.




That of course brings its own worries over the new bird flu that is claiming both birds and now mammals (mostly minks at this stage) in Sweden. We worry about the impact on our own birds as the government is starting to clamp down on movement of domestic birds between safety zones set up around infected areas. Most migratory birds will be back by the time we leave, so we'll have to review our plans when the time comes. Sometimes pet ownership can be a bit of a trial as far as border crossing is concerned. The dog has always been a problem, but never before have the birds been subject to restrictions. I think this is about to change as the bird flu panic starts over here.

Anyway, that is in the future. Lars-Göran arrived home tired but happy in the early afternoon. He had expected a warm greeting from Lambi who surprised us both by her coolness towards him - a very cat like response. To be fair, he had interrupted her playing with her best friend, Bamse, so she may have been miffed that he cramped her style. I hope she forgives him soon as I was quite looking forward to being forsaken by her for a day or two.

In Australia, it is considered quite exotic to go on a holiday in the snowfields. Several people I've spoken to in Sweden are really surprised that we even have snow in Australia as they think of us as a land of red, searing deserts. We do have alps, though not as many as Austria (who it seems also have kangaroos, just to confuse the American tourists). In fact, apparently we have even more snow than Switzerland, but as the country is so vast, it seems like it is in a tiny area. Snow covers 1400 sq. km in the Snowy Mountains area of New South Wales and a bit less than that in Victoria but usually only for a couple of months a year.

During that short time, people come from all over the country to ski at the various resorts between Melbourne and Canberra to savour the crisp, bracing air of the mountains, to try out skiing and to experience what it is like to be truly cold. In Sweden, you are surrounded by ice and snow for several months of the year, but even so a skiing holiday is very popular and families flock in their thousands to the ski-ing areas in central Sweden to try their luck on the piste.

Once the kids are back at school from their mid semester break, the resorts are calmer and people can still enjoy sunny days, cosy accommodation and relaxation. One of these spots, around 450 kms north of Stockholm is Sälen. It’s not the greatest skiing in the world, it’s just something about that area that is so beautiful, vast and inviting.

At Sälen there are 145 km of downhill piste, over 300 km of cross country skiing tracks and over 100 ski lifts. It's a good area for those who are just beginning to ski as well as for those who like a callenge. Me? I like the log fires and the cute accommodation cottages. Check out the snow on the roof!




The snow is seriously deep in this area. The paths leading up to the cabins are kept clear, but you can see that the snow is over a metre high around the cabin. In a place like this, you can get an idea of what Lambi has to face everyday while out walking in winter. The snow is banked so high that in places you can't see over the top and it feels like you are walking through a white tunnel.




One good reason to go there in March is that the days are getting longer and the sun is beginning to shine. Even if you are like me and you don't like to ski, you can actually spend your time doing lots of other things that don't involve donning skis, ski poles or ski boots. There are adventure types of things like paragliding, snowmobile safaris, par ascending or ice wind-surfing. But what I like is the idea of dog sledding - being drawn along behind a team of excitable, panting puppies who seem to love nothing better than to lope along miles and miles of snowy landscape.




The cross country skiing aspect is what attracts many enthusiasts to Sälen every season and in fact this is the starting point for the famous annual Vasaloppet race. Sometimes you just want to be away from the hustle bustle of it all and be totally surrounded by silence and nature and taking one of the ring routes can give you that experience.




Cross-country skiing is similar to the downhill variety, except that most of it takes place while travelling along the flat or uphill, in special tracks cut into the snow. The skis are connected to your foot only at the front of the boot, and you move in a kind of running motion, gliding forwards with one foot while pushing back with the other. Along the Sälenringen, which is the trail that surrounds the mountains, you can ski along the well marked routes, following the tracks of those who passed before you. There are good views in almost every direction and a great sense of peace and space.




While the scenery is beautiful, cross country skiing is physically demanding and requires a lot of stamina. Our friends Anna and Lennart have been doing this all of their life and love the challenge and relish in being oút here far from civilisation. As with everything you do here, it's really important to bring along proper clothing and carry a first aid kit and lots of drinking water. It's amazing how thirsty and dehydrated you can get even surrounded by all of this frozen water.




When you spend a sunny day sliding along talking with your friends and enjoying the outdoors, it can revive your spirits. I really love these kind of days. Lennart has amazing stamina and a whole wealth of skills in the great outdoors. I've mentioned before that he's the one I'd choose to be stranded with in the wilderness as he knows so much and is so capable. Another skill he demonstrated this trip was the art of building a snow cave.




A snow cave is exactly what it sounds like: it is a cave in the snow. To dig a snow cave, you dig a trench about 6 feet deep, 10 feet long and 4 feet wide. Then the cave is dug into the side of the bank. After completing the first trench, which resembled -- rather unnervingly -- a grave in the snow, he posed for a smiling shot.




It may not sound like much, but that is a lot of snow to remove and throw far enough from the entrance not to block it. This is hot work as well, shovelling such a large volume of snow and soon he had stripped off despite the air temperature of -10C!




I can assure you that I was never cut out for this type of survival stuff. I looked at the cave and couldn't imagine myself sleeping in a confined cave, covered with hundreds, if not thousands of pounds of snow. I feel claustrophobic just typing it out. I know that in a serious situation that building something like this can save your life, but I think my survival plan involves never straying far from the comforts of the cottage.

For the past few months the sun has barely been visible. I became a little bit scared thinking that perhaps some kind of climate change had brought about permanent grey skies and that I might never see the burning orb again. Then we got a day of sunshine and blue, blue skies. So I took a photo, just to remind me that blue sky days do happen, and of course, in case it might never happen again.




The sight of those blue skies has put me back in the real world and given me confirmation that the sun is a real concept, not something that I may have imagined on a vodka-just-before-bed fuelled dream. When it gleams and reflects off the stark, white snow the world brightens up. Winter's late return to the Stockholm archipelago was not entirely unforseen — one can reasonably expect the long white season to linger and then make surprise appearances until April at the earliest. It is so odd to look across this waterway where we sail during the warmer months and still see everything packed in ice and be unable to tell where the land ends and the water begins.





Yesterday's big news here was the resignation of foreign minister Laila Freivalds. Even blind Freddy could have seen this coming after her very poor handling of the South Asian tsunami, and more recently the Muhammad cartoon scandal.

Her departure will almost immediately relieve pressure on Prime Minister Göran Persson. Suddenly, just a few short months ahead of an election, he can reshuffle his cabinet and close the drawer on the pandora's box that has was the foreign ministry's appalling response to the whole tsunami catastrophe. I'm sure there were a few celebration fikas around Sweden yesterday. I thought of that when I spotted these brave souls having coffee.




It looks straightforward and civilised enough - a group of friends sitting outside on a sunny afternoon having fika. But let's pan back a little from that view and see just how warm it is where they are sitting.




See, it's not looking so warm and cosy now, is it? There is snow everywhere and I can tell you that the air is nippy. Why they want to sit out in the cold where their hot drinks will turn lukewarm in a very short time I just cannot fathom. I'm not fond of outdoor eating here, though I used to love it back in Adelaide. It is nearly always cold outside and as soon as they bring you your food, it starts to cool rapidly and it's no fun wolfing it down quickly. I prefer a nice window seat, especially in a waterfront place like this little restaurant. If we zoom back a little more, you can see the spring views over the "water".




I still love having the extra light and the warmth of the sun. It is so much more cheerful than February and you can feel the anticipation in the air. I know that the next picture still looks a little bare and bleak. But I know from past experience that when winter finally retreats in Sweden, the trees green up rapidly and within a short time the whole area is carpeted flowers and lush new growth. There is no gradual, quiet or subtle entrance here for Lady Spring, but an triumphant fanfare, running footsteps, an explosion of shaggy green leafage and a riotous profusion of blooms bursting forth, almost within minutes.




Last night I dreamed that I was wandering along in a meadow of wildflowers and lush green foliage, listening to a flock of grosbeaks (tallbitar) singing in the trees overhead. *Sigh* It's early days yet and those dreams will have to sustain me for several more weeks yet — at present the Swedish woods are still a realm of snow and deep blue shadow and they will remain so for quite a while.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, some birds are already busy in spring mode and the shredding continues unabated.




I was reading that the dreaded bird flu has reached Stockholm, with a couple of swans even carking it in spectacular style right in the middle of town (the Stockholm equivalent of King Willian St/North Tce intersection). It's so sad for all of the wild birds and no-one knows just what will happen when all of the migratory birds return from the warm southern lands. It is casting a shadow over the new season.

I was also reading today that the Aussie tourism ad has been causing yet another stink, thgis time in Canada of all places! What is it with people? For a change it wasn't the words "hell" or "bloody" that were a problem, but the fact that they say "I've bought you a beer". I'm not joking. Apparently you can't mention unbranded beer on Canadian television.

And they think WE are strange!

Can you believe it? Less than a week after I write about my indignation at someone here telling me that there are no bananas growing in Australia, Cyclone Larry sweeps through far north Queesnland and as well as leaving towns badly damaged, it also destroys 80% of the avocado crop and 95% of the bananas.




Did I jinx them, I wonder? From what I've read, it could take up to five years before the industry is back up on its feet again, so the country will face big price hikes and shortages of this fruit that is so well loved. There really is nothing like a big, yellow, tasty banana from Queensland. I still get a lump in my throat when I sing the great Australian banana anthem Make those Bodies Sing

Ahhh....ba na na na na naa na na naana na make those bodies sing (let's see you get that tune out of your head for the rest of the day!)

The cyclone even made the front page of the Swedish news services and here is where I get to laugh out loud again. While the morning papers had detailed and informative reports, the afternoon tabloids couldn't possibly do a report on Australia without mentioning crocodiles and snakes! I was disappointed they couldn't find a shark angle and make it a full sweep. Check out Aftonbladet (Swedish only) and in big letters you'll see the headline about crocodiles and snakes that will be coming up through the storm water systems. They just can't help themselves.

On the morning radio I also heard an interview with a lady who runs a backpacker hostel in Mission Beach (I guess they were trying to find a few Swedish backpackers to interview). She spoke in a broad Australian accent and I was surprised at how she sounded and commented about it to Lars-Göran, who thought she sounded much like the rest of us. "Do I really sound like THAT?" I asked, making a mental note to have speech therapy lessons. I suppose that it's been a while since I listened to an Australian speaking so my ear was not tuned to it and I was taken aback by it.




I nearly forgot to say that the Melodifestival finale was on Saturday night. The veteran performer Carola won, which really was no big suprise. In her final performance after winning though she sang the first verse in English, no doubt to demonstrate how she will sing it at the Eurovision contest in Athens later in the year.

I really hope she gets a second opinion about the translation before she performs it internationally, because she sang the word "sensatiable", which is definately not a word. Can someone please tell her to sing "sensational" instead? Or maybe it was meant to be insatiable? Who knows. I have to admit though, that the word is cracking me up and I keep telling Lars-Göran things like how sensatiable the weather is. I think he's going to be sick of the word soon.

And as happened at last year's competition, if the Swedes suddenly realise that her song sucks once they hear the others in Athens, there is yet another Swede performing, this time for Switzerland - which will confuse the many Americans who already believe that Sweden and Switzerland are the same country. And don't worry Australia, we'll be there as well as the German entrant contains an expat Aussie. Now I've heard it all!




As you can see from the above picture of the two kajor (jackdaws) sunning themselves on the roof of a local building, it has been sunny these last few days. Not warm, mind you, just very sunny. Officially, spring is supposed to be just around the corner, but it’s hard to imagine any semblance of warmth as I look out across the water towards the boat and still see the bleak, wintery landscape staring back at me. The wind has turned northwards again and it feels like it’s coming straight from the Arctic circle (which of course it is) and light snow is still being blown horizontally across the land.




Yes, I think it may still be a while before we take Fiona out for a sail. I mean, it IS going to warm up eventually, isn't it?

That is my lesson for the day. I wonder if I will ever actually learn that lesson myself. I'm okay with bringing the salted water to the boil and carefully putting in my homemade gnocchi. You ought to wait by the stove until the water begins to boil again and the lovely little gnocchi rise to the surface as it is so easy for it to all boil over. I should know, as I always but always turn my back at a crucial moment (maybe to grate a little parmesan cheese or check the garlic bread in the oven) and look up to find litres of water happily spilling over the sides of the pot and on to my stove top. Just as well it's an electric stove, isn't it?

I was making the gnocchi as Lars-Göran's youngest daughter came over for lunch and this is her favourite dish. She only eats it here as no-one else knows how to make it, so I'm always happy to prepare it for her. She has recently moved out of home and is sharing an apartment in the southern suburbs of Stockholm with several girlfriends. Of course they are no doubt living on three-minute noodles most of the week, so it's nice to fill her up with proper food, fresh vegetables and her favourite blueberry pie when she drops by.

She loved our doormat so much that she took it home with her. I offered to buy them a new one and drop it off to their apartment instead, but with the typical impatience of youth she wanted it today, so I cleaned it and gave it to her, along with our spare vacuum cleaner. At least she didn't bring her dirty laundry with her!





This week's full moon brought a special gift, the return of more birds to Nynäshamn. Huge flocks of birds flew over the town just before dawn on Wednesday. I listened to the rhythmic beating of their wings and knew that the majestic geese were heading northwards to their summer home. And this time also marks the beginning of spring here.

Tomorrow it is the vernal equinox. The word vernal means spring; equinox means equal night. So tomorrow, night and day are the same length, each lasting exactly twelve hours on this day.

In ancient times before Easter was celebrated, people connected spring with the return of life to the earth. The return of spring in ancient times was of more consequence than it is to us today because winter food storages ended, crops could be planted and people didn't have to worry about how to stay warm. In our more modern world we focus on the joys of more light, of life returning to the fields and SAD crawling away to its dark pit to hide for another summer. Looking out at the snowy landscape melting away in the warm sun, I think about the wonders hiding beneath the earth, just waiting for the sun and rain to coax them forth again. It's so good to see the street again after months of being under a white blanket.




It is easy to love Spring. Throughout the ages, humans have taken a natural delight in participating in Spring's approach and joyously welcoming her arrival. Spring is the season of birth. It is the time to exclaim over the wonder of children - children of every species of life. It is the time to exclaim over childhood itself and new beginnings. I can't wait for it all to burst into life. But for the moment we have to endure the mushy, muddy spring thaw that turns the streets from ice skating rinks into ponds.




Anyway, for me there is one thing, and only one thing which marks the first day of spring. No, it's not the vernal equinox. Not even the sound of the first woodpecker nor the first daffodil or crocus peeping up through the soil. Spring officially begins on the first day of the year that I buy an iced coffee. If it is sunny with temperatures above zero next week, I might indulge. It's too bad that temperatures are forecast to be dropping this week.

What season is it again?

On a more sombre note, the Australian expat community in Stockholm were shocked and saddened by the murder and dismemberment of Canberra woman Nina Peltonen by her Swedish partner here last week. It is a tragic case and my heart goes out to her family and to the innocent victims caught up in this mess - the children. I feel terrible knowing that they were here only a couple of months, obviously feeling isolated and unhappy in the harsh Swedish winter and none of us knew about it. I wonder what could have been if only she had reached out to the Australian community here. There are some fantastic, helpful and very supportive Aussies in Stockholm who maybe could have made a difference, helped with the isolation, the language and the culture shock or just been a friendly face in a stange land, far from home. Goodness knows we all need a dose of that from time to time.

Sometimes life in another land, far from your support systems and the familiarity of family, friends, a shared language and culture can be very hard.

Today, it's St Patrick's Day. He's the patron saint of Ireland and the one said to be responsible for driving the snakes out of the emerald isle.

In lands with large Irish populations (or those descended from Irish stock) it is a famed day of revelry: the wearing of something green, drinking of copious amounts of green beer, singing loudly in not-so-harmonious Irish accents, a bit of fighting in the street, a lot of public urination, and eventually loss of consciousness. It's grand!

In Sweden, I guess the Irish pubs will be doing a roaring trade and several of the expat crowd are joining in the fun. I believe that there will even be a St Paddy's day parade in Stockholm tomorrow afternoon. There is not a huge Irish population here, but I'm sure they will be vocal.

It's starting to thaw a bit outside and has been mostly sunny for a couple of days, but the world is still blanketed in snow and ice. When you live so far north, you really have to get used to the idea of a 6-8 month winter every year, no matter how much you may like it to be otherwise. Summer lasts a month or two and spring and autumn are both short and intense as well. It's winter that dominates.




Soon however, it will be time to forget the cold, to welcome the sunshine instead and let it all flow through me! I sit in the light of day and feel my breath frosting in the air and dream that the sun is warm. My face turns to the light like a sunflower and I smile.

Winter is lasting much too long this year. I can't wait to shed these heavy clothes and put on something breezy and bright. Perhaps one day my feet will once again hear the clip clop of my sandals, I will smell the beautiful aroma of freshly cut grass and the welcome tinkle of icecubes in my tall glass of gin and tonic. Not to mention the sound of the wind in the sails and the gentle swish as our boat plys the waters of the Baltic. Bliss!




...please don't wait too long! I can't stand it much longer.

Happy St Patrick's Day to all of you. Don't forget to wear green!

(This is a backdated entry, written on Wednesday, but delayed posting until Friday because Blogger was having problems with picture uploading to group blogs all week. It's now been fixed - yay!)

Last night Lars-Göran and I had a difference of opinion. We usually get along with each other very well, but something I said inspired him to almost reach boiling point. Evidentally, it irritates him that I'm always right. Or so it would seem.

It all began innocently enough with the following picture he snapped while he was out yesterday.




He showed it to me and asked me what I thought of it. I began by saying "Ohh...it's Villagatan", but before I got a chance to continue, he said with a touch of irritation "No it's not Villagatan. Can you just tell me what you think of it as a photo." Now, this is not a big town and I reckon that I've walked around almost every part of it and I was sure this was Villagatan, which would be neither here nor there except that I was a little surprised by him saying it wasn't. I wondered where it was. So this made me pause for a bit and start to puzzle out in my head where in town it could be. Lars-Göran was getting impatient with the delay and said that he'd tell me where the street was after I got back to the original question and answered him properly. (yes, I know I tend to ramble off in tangents a lot of the time).

So I told him what I thought and then asked where it was taken. He waved his hand dismissively and said that he didn't know the actual street name, but that it was the "long road that runs adjacent to the railway line up near where Christer lives".

I'm guessing that you all know where this is heading.

Marie: "That's Villagatan!"
Lars-Göran: "No it's not."
Marie: "It SO is Villagatan. We go down it every time we go to the vet or the woodyard." I hurry off to get the road map. And yes, it was Villagatan. Is he happy about this? Nope. He's pissed off. And I'm made to feel bad about being right.

This is not the first time I've struck this. I'm not one of those petty people who always has to be right. It is just that when I know something to be the case and someone vehemently denies it or tries to tell me I'm wrong, I like to check for my own peace of mind, I'm not trying to be a smart arse. But some people prefer to see it otherwise and there isn't much you can do as they are going to draw their own conclusions.

When I was at Swedish classes a few years ago I managed to upset two of the teachers in the same way. By being right. The first time, one of them mentioned that the only youth hostel here in town was at Nicksta. All I said was that there was one at Lövhagen as well. I know this because we had walked around the area and had stopped and looked at Lövhagen Café och Vandrahem. The teacher then emphatically told me I was wrong. I knew I was right, so I hauled out my tourist map of Nynäshamn (which I always keep in my pocket as I often get asked for directions when I'm out walking the dog) and showed him where it clearly said youth hostel (vandrahem). He was furious, made me feel like I was just trying to show off and then for the rest of the time I was in his class, he would make sneering remarks about "if it's alright with Marie, of course" whenever he made a statement about something.

The other time it was with a different teacher and she told me outright that it was ludicrous of me to say that we grow bananas in Australia. Everyone knew that was impossible, which I'm sure is news to the Australian Banana Grower's Council! I said that I knew for a fact that we did grow them in commercial quantities Queensland, but she insisted in the strongest terms that I was wrong. This time I was stunned. She has never been to Australia, admits that she knows very little about it, but still insists that she is right. And when I Google it in class and show her, she gets mad at ME. She also refused to believe that Bananas in Pyjamas were Australian and get this, when we had to do a talk on the capital city of our country, I initially got a failed mark because I talked about Canberra, when "everyone knows that the capital of Australia is Sydney".

Spare me from stupid people!

Anyway, not everyone in Sweden is like this, but when they are, it really gets on my nerves and I'm finding myself having to quell the urge to batter them to death with my handbag. Which is all not good for my bloodpressure, so I have to learn to let it all go.

To help keep me cool, it is still wintery here, with even the dead being reminded that they are stone cold.





See how deep the snow drifts lie if you just leave them? There is a incredible sense of peace here, with just piles of snow and headstones barely peeping out of the white mass. It is both a spare, bleak sight as well as being strangely comforting.




In earlier times, when the graves were hand dug, it was impossible to dig through the frozen, stony ground in these seasons. In some towns, they would simply estimate how many might die during the winter and dig the holes in advance. In other towns, they stored the dead bodies until the spring thaw. These days, they can clear a space and use a digger to make a burial place, no matter what the season.




The chapel here also looks bleak, surrounded as it is by snow and the leafless trees of the late winter landscape. The glorious blue sky is a reminder that new life is about to appear as the days get gradually lighter and lighter.




Yes, there is hope. And if I don't want to end up here before my time, I am going to have to learn the art of staying calm, letting it all go and not trying to be too smart for my own good.

There has been an interesting discussion about marketing tactics that I've been observing in an online forum recently. It makes me wonder if advertisers are setting out deliberately to create controversy for marketing purposes. One person used the wonderful Oscar Wilde quip about "it is better to be talked about badly than not at all" as an illustration of the sort of mentality that seems to be in vogue these days.

This line of thought was triggered by some recent ad campaigns both here and in Australia that have stirred controversy, much to the obvious delight of the advertisers. You'd think that they would be touchy about their product being portrayed in a negative light but that does not seem to be the case.

I've mentioned both the Lindex campaign and the new Tourism Australia campaign before. I'll get back to the latter one in a minute, but wanted to mention yet another campaign that has sparked controversy - this time an ad for tampons. These ads have been appearing around Stockholm over the last few weeks:




These ads probably only make sense in Sweden, where the slang word for a female “map of Tasmania” ( known in English as “pussy”) is mus or “mouse”. Which reminds me of when I first came to Sweden and was looking for a mouse mat for my computer at one of the big Coop department stores. The assistant that I asked directed me over to the aisle containing sanitary napkins and tampons, which puzzled me until I told Lars-Göran when I came home. He laughed and informed me that mouse mat was a slangy Swedish term for a sanitary napkin. Marie the Mouth strikes again with lesson #78 on what not to say in Sweden!

Anyway, I really like this Ob ad with the cute little mouse asleep on a tampon pillow. The writing says “Make your mouse comfortable” and I thought it was rather humourous, clever and quite tasteful. I wondered what the train and bus company would say about it, after they had recently banned Lindex’s “We love boobs” posters from appearing in their stations. But to my surprise, here we are pulling into the underground station at Odenplan:




This has triggered a debate about double standards, inconsistency and of course whether modern ads are deliberately trying to be controversial and “talked about”. The Tourism Australia ad also raises this question. Only a day after its release, the advertisers were told that it was considered offensive in parts of Asia and all printed matter would have to be reworded and the word “bloody” removed from the tv advertisement. The more conservative parts of the US also expressed concern and it was felt that the ad might only really appeal to Australians who understood the cultural reference. Many other nations would simply not get it.

While that was being debated, the UK weighed in with its own ban. Far from being disappointed, the ad makers were jubilant, crowing that they were "not upset by the ban and hoped that publicity surrounding it would provide a further boost for the campaign. Everything helps..."

I was really surprised that the UK took offence as of all nations, I would have thought that they were more in synch with our humour which has its roots in the whole British “taking the piss” out of something. It was also a huge surprise, in view of the hot BBC comedy series recently aired here in Sweden called Little Britain. It is hilarious, but quite crude and sometimes contains highly offensive language. So I’m a little puzzled that this is deemed fine for UK viewers while one small word in a visually stunning ad is deemed improper. I’m eagerly awaiting the outcome of this, especially now that Australia has sent in the big gun (in the form of our Minister for Tourism) to fight the case for the ad to remain on air.

I’d like to ask spring the same question – Where the bloody hell are you?




As you can see, it is still looking quite wintery here at the moment. I was commenting to an online friend about Sweden being snow covered for 97 months of the year and you can see I’m not exaggerating. Even the sea is frozen, so people from the islands can walk or sled across to Nynäshamn for the weekly shopping.




There are some signs of clear water to the south. When walking along Strandvägen and looking out towards the Baltic you can see that the thaw is on.




Even closer to land, there are holes in the icy cover and I’ve seen a few fishermen venturing out to try and get an early start on the fishing season. This is a lovely walk to take – it is close to town, but at the same time you can feel quite removed from people and civilisation. I love to just walk and let my mind wander, breathe in the clear air and marvel at the natural world.




I still can’t believe that there are only a few short weeks left until they begin to launch boats again. Each day is cold, the ice remains and persistent snow rains down on us. You would look at this scene and wonder if there is going to even be a boat season this year. There better be, as we have plans to be gone from mid-May to the end of September.




Looking at those poor, cold ducks does not exactly inspire any confidence that spring is on our doorstep. It is really hard to motivate oneself to get cracking with finishing the work on the boat and think about stocking her up for a long trip away. Last night when I set the table for dinner, it looked like Christmas all over again!




That should change over the next few weeks. We change to daylight saving time on March 26th so we will have a little more light in the evening. That can't come soon enough for me.

That lyric in the post title, from a Pete Green song is a perfect one today. I'm living in Winter Wonderland. For you all who think of Sweden as the land of snow - well right now, it is! It really is. It's been snowing on and off for more than a week and with temperatures nudging the minus 40C mark in the north of the country and minus 15C or so here, there is no mistaking the "winter" part of Winter Wonderland. But I love this time of year.

I'm not always so enamoured of the white stuff. I still dislike November and February as months here, mostly because the snow falls as a light, bitter powder and the landscape looks barren and dead in the increasing winter darkness. Much like this wonderful, timeless image (The Hunters in the Snow) painted in 1565 by the Flemish artist Pieter Bruegel.




That kind of snow does nothing to soften the earth's sharpness. In November and February the snow only outlines things and makes the trees look really bare, the town a little meaner. I feel the weight of that during those months.

But March is a whole different proposition. Yes, it is achingly cold when you go out, but the snow is so different. Snow is an absolute blessing when it softens the edges of the world, when it falls like a blanket covering everything.




The word that springs to mind when I think of March is hesitation - that time of anticipation and pause. The skies are a clear blue, the trees are soft, grey and still leafless, although the buds are ready to burst with new growth and the beautiful little forest birds come out to forage again and brighten up my day. This tiny blåmes (blue tit) is only one of the charming little visitors we have in our garden.




Many expats here are now openly complaining about the cold and snow and declaring that it's high time it all went away. But I find this hesitation in March to be quite cheering. It is all about expectation, a slow gathering of power, a hopeful time of the year. It feels great to be alive and to be out enjoying the sunshine and the confident expectation that things can only get better.




Out on the water... well there is no visible water. Everything is covered by a sheet of ice, then a foot or so of snow. The drifts are so high now that the piers are slowly disappearing and some of the boats left by thier owners for the winter are at risk of disappearing as well. I am puzzled as to why people leave such expensive things out in the weather with no care or thought until spring - when it is usually too late!




It's still slim pickings for most of the birds, but some of the more pushy species like the crows are happy to muscle in on the food supplies of any other birds, no matter how large the other bird is. This morning I watched out of my kitchen window as a pair of crows took on a large bird of prey (I'm almost certain it was an osprey) and sent it packing, returning to the snow banks to act as sentinels.




These crows are nothing like the sleek, glossy black crows we get in South Australia, but are more of a soft grey colour. I wonder if I should tell them that we South Aussies are called croweaters?

They claim their fair share of food at the harbour as well. No matter if it is a crust of bread, a discarded bit of hotdog or a few chips you will find these crows marching right up to the other birds and telling them to clear off. Most of them do so.




The clear, fresh air and blinding snow makes everything look sharp and bright and even the houses take on a new character in these days just before spring.




The long icicles hanging from the rooftops are formed each day by the action of the sun on the snow lying on the roof. It drips slowly during the relative warmth of the morning, but as the afternoon temperatures plummet they become frozen in time and hang down like enormous crystal sculptures.




See what I mean about it being a winter wonderland? Sunny days, pure white snow, blue skies and the sure knowledge that the sun is getting stronger and stronger as each day passes.

One little annoying behavioural quirk that Lars-Göran has is a habit of not closing drawers properly. I think it must run in his family as his youngest daughter also seems to suffer from the same affliction. I have lost count of the times that I have entered a room and had to finish shutting a drawer for them. It's never left fully open, or even half open. Usually it is just a small slit, but enough to irritate an anal retentive order freak like me. What can be so hard about closing it properly? It makes the room look so much neater when it is closed, though I seem to have failed in my attempts to educate Lars-Göran and am now resigned to gritting my teeth and closing them myself every day. There is also the little matter of how to hang up the towels as well, but that is far too traumatic for me to write about while fully sober.

One reason that I'd like them to remember to shut all drawers is that the birds are very inquisitive and they also love to shred anything they can lay their little beaks on. As they are Australian birds, there is of course no way to discipline them or teach them any sense. So does Lars-Göran heed my warnings? What do you think?

You will perhaps recall last month that Bruce showed a sudden interest in gaining access to the desk drawer. As there are a variety of important papers in there, I'm not so keen that he gets his way. But he still tries.




So far, it has remained a bird free zone. Until today. As well as papers, we keep the cable to connect the camera to the computer in this drawer. Lars-Göran needed to download some pictures, so he grabbed the cord from the drawer and moved over to his laptop. He was going to be just a few minutes, so he didn't close the drawer. Not that anyone noticed or anything!




In a microsecond, the pair of them fluttered down from their little workplace (shredding my bamboo blinds) and casually sat on the rattan chair examining their toenails and trying (but failing desperately) to look nonchalant.




Before I had a chance to say "I hope you shut that drawer", Sheila loyally stood guard, while Bruce casually hopped over to the side of the drawer and peeped in at the new and fascinating world of guarantees, passports, cables and diskettes. Hours of enjoyment for a cheeky bird bored with nibbling our video, CD and book collection.




He surveyed his new playground from the relative safety of the rechargable battery box. My goodness, what to eat first. Should I rifle through the lot or just start right on in and eat this silly paper called vigselbevis (marriage certificate) - I bet it's tasty and I'm sure they won't miss it. And shredding it to confetti seems somehow fitting, doesn't it?




But wait.... here's some computer diskettes with boring names like "Backup", maybe I can claw them or even leave a little something deposited on it, if only I could just squeeze right in to the back where I could reach them. Thinking that the coast was clear and that he hadn't been spotted, Bruce yelled out the cockatiel equivalent of "Where the bloody hell are you?" and Sheila stopped acting as lookout, diving straight on in after him.




I decided at this stage that the party was over and so shooed them out and they went back to eating the blinds and ceiling cornice instead. Though I can see a gleam in their eyes and they are waiting for an opportunity to take advantage of another opportunity when the drawer is left ajar and unattended. Knowing Lars-Göran, my guess is that we won't have to wait long. So now I'm on the lookout for a decent, birdproof (and husband proof) document box that I can safely stow out of harm's way.

The heavy snowfalls and very cold temperatures (a bonechilling minus 25C this morning) have played havoc with the trains. I had a meeting in Stockholm today and was really annoyed that I had to cancel it as there was chaos on the lines, both from here to Stockholm and from within Stockholm itself.

I waited out in the chill at the train station while the train was delayed, delayed, delayed then suddenly, without explanation cancelled. At that stage I rang Lars-Göran and asked him to check online for me, where the full extent of the public transport dog's breakfast unfolded. There was no point in even trying to get anywhere, so instead I trudged home and had a day with my family.

The south bound train line is a complete joke and it amuses me that the local council has the guts to promote this town as being "Minutes from Stockholm" when it is patently impossible to get there on a good day in anything under an hour. On a bad day, it can take several hours. Or maybe you never get there at all. A local resident has started a blog (in Swedish only) about the "joys" of commuting from Nynäshamn. It doesn't make for very cheerful reading.

In more pleasant news, Lars-Göran went with his friend Lennart to the big boat exhibition, where they wandered around looking at the latest boy's toys and checking out all of the exhibits.




I was rather stunned as he came home with a lot of really useful information and brochures. This is not normally like him at all. I am the one who madly collects these things usually. Whenever we go anywhere I scan around for free leaflets, maps, information sheets etc which I read avidly and file away for use later. Most of what I've accumulated has been extremely useful when we travel to different towns and often our decision to visit a particular place has been as a result of something I've read about it.

This must be rubbing off on to Lars-Göran (see, I can be a good influence!) as he came back with armloads of maps covering the whole area we are visiting this summer, tourist brochures, guest harbour information and a fully paid membership for Svenska Kryssarklubben (something I have urged him to do for a couple of years).

Normally he marches around these shows with tunnel vision, never stopping to talk or look carefully at things and with a body language that deters exhibitors from approaching him. I'm not sure what transformation has taken place, but he spent hours and hours there and chatted on enthusiastically about it all when he go home. He also admitted that he was "in love" with this dear little boat:




It is a HobieMirage Outback and he waxed lyrical about it over dinner, so I suspect he will try and angle a way to own one as soon as he can scrape the money together. Though where we can stow it on Fiona while we sail will be an interesting logistical problem that I'll leave to him!

Also this week, my Aussies in Sweden t-shirts arrived. Kate, the webmistress of the Australians Abroad site emailed me to let me know that she had sold several shirts "from your site". I had no idea what she was talking about. I don't sell t-shirts. Do I? Well, it seems that yes, I do. Well, I don't really, but as part of a fundraising exercise to defray website costs, Kate has started marketing some shirts through Zazzle. The designs include a couple relating to Aussies in Sweden and it seems people are buying them. I couldn't bear to miss out and am now the proud owner of two shirts. I chose one of each design - this one in orange (my favourite colour!) and this one in classic white.

They seem to be a good quality cotton, Zazzle were very fast and efficient sending the order and I'm looking forward to seeing how well they wear and of course letting everyone here know that I'm a proud Aussie in Sweden!




Mind you, it will have to be considerably warmer than this before you can get a photo of me sporting a t-shirt!

Of course, it is nowhere near spring time just yet. While in Australia, we used the first day of a month to signal the change of seasons (our change to autumn is considered as March 1st), the first day of spring in the northern hemisphere is March 20th (sometimes March 21st) - the vernal equinox. But yesterday, after days of darkness and persistent snow, Mother Nature turned on one of her magical March days - blue, cloudless skies, dazzling sunshine with a hint of real warmth all reflected off a stunning, pure white landscape. It was a perfect day to be outside. So come take a small walk through the town with me.




Even the most ordinary and banal bits of town are transformed by the big drifts of snow covering everything and with the strong blue sky providing a contrast, it all looks so much more interesting. Even a simple hill and an almost buried staircase leading up to a block of flats seems exotic and intriguing on a rare sunny day like this.





I am always moved by the first spring songs of the birds who are returning from the warm southern countries and I feel so happy to have them back. Each day brings a new discovery as the diversity of the birdlife increases. Today I was certain that another of the migratory forest birds had returned when Lars-Göran spotted this little guy up a tree in the centre of town.




I was sure it must be a taltrast or song thrush. Goodness, did you check that poor bird's scientific name in the link? Turdus philomelos. Where oh where did they get "Turdus" from? And why am I still amused by this? Anyway, I thought spring must be surely about to break as these birds don't like the chill, preferring to winter in Spain like civilised birds. However, closer scrutiny showed that we were looking at the less civilised nötväcka or nuthatch. They choose to stay in Sweden for the winter and this one must have been out sunning itself like the rest of us.

Elsewhere around the streets, the snow ploughs have been busy and the footpaths on the corners have now disappeared under a literal mountain of collected snow.




I love it when the snow is still at this lovely, white, glittery phase. Depressingly, in a few short days, especially if the temperature rises a little above zero, it will start to melt and collect dust from the passing traffic and become big, slushy, dirty, unsightly muddy piles. Hopefully the trucks would have collected it all and taken it away by then. But for now I can walk around in the blazing sunlight and say "Wow!" "Pretty" and "Gosh, I love snow". The sun is so bright today that I am sporting my sunnies along with the obligatory scarf, hat, gloves, boots and thick, down-filled winter coat. But the light reflecting off of the buildings in the main street gives an added depth and warmth to the rich colours.




As is typical in European towns, the centre of the place is still very much alive. They don't seem to separate the commercial from the residential areas. Instead, the ground level areas house businesses (in the above picture it is one of the banks and a real estate office, with apartments above. There are always people around and it is a safer feeling walking around here after hours than in the deserted commerecial hearts of Australian cities. While I personally would not want to live right in the heart of the town like this, I can see that it is great for those who like to be close to everything and in the hub of all that is going on.

But you are never far from a sense of peace and space. Just across the road, you see this:




Perched high on it's own hill, with a panoramic view from the front across the harbour area, the rustic weathervane on the spire glittering in the sun, it looks like it is in it's own little isolated world. But that picture is deceptive as the church in Nynäshamn is in the centre of town, in the heart of our community here. Likewise when you study the picture of the building on the other corner.




This looks like a manor house or a mansion somewhere in the country. Perhaps when it was first built sometime in the late eighteenth century, it was a family home for a wealthy citizen. Hmm... something to ask about at the library's archives when I pop in again. However, these days, the upper floors are apartments, with a dentist housed in one area and a popular restaurant on the ground level. I like it when they utilise the existing structure for something useful rather than simply calling in the bulldozers - we have already lost a lot of the irreplacable essence of this town thanks to decades of short-sighted and questionable "town planning" decisions by people who ought to know better. I weep when I look at what they have done to centrum. Nåväl. It's too beautiful a day to fret about it.

Next stop was the local park at Svandammen.




You can see the church from here, standing proudly on the hill. There is no sign of the grass, buried under a couple of feet of snowflakes, nor of the pond that is the hub of birdlife in this area. You can see that the walking path is freshly ploughed, with walls of snow piled up on each side and that the bare, snow laden trees are reaching up towards the life giving sun.

A quick cut across the park, then over the railway line down to the small boat harbour to see how the boats are faring.




As you can see, the snow is sparkling like a sea of diamonds or as though Tinkerbell has flown by sprinkling everything with glittery fairy dust. There really is no prettier sight. The snow is covering the ice now almost up to the level of the pier itself. This little sailing boat looks as though it is covered and snuggled up in a soft quilt. The silence is so complete. In the background, a lone bird flies through the warm afternoon sun and you feel as though you want to set off and take a short walk across the snow covered ice to the island of Trehörningen (literally "The triangle") over the water. What a wonderful view they have every day. And how lucky I am to live in this beautiful place.

"I think they're on to you!" was Lars-Göran's reaction when he read the news that a mad cow had been found in Sweden. However it didn't turn out to be me they were worried about this time, but instead it was an outbreak (Sweden's first) of BSE or Mad Cow Disease.




First it was a foot-and-mouth disease outbreak last year. Then bird flu. Now BSE. My guess is the being a vegetarian here will be the new black, which will worry the suppliers of meat and poultry as they scramble to reassure the consumer that all is well. No doubt the consumer will also bear the cost of the new testing they will need to implement. Fortunately we rarely eat meat, with the high price being enough to scare you - even more so than the threat of contamination. We do eat it if we are invited out for dinner, partly because someone else gets to pay for it, but also because people here panic a bit if you announce that you don't eat meat. And as we spend several months of the year on our boat, it is far easier to eat a non-meat based diet. Anyway, it will be interesting to see how this news affects the country, already bracing itself for noise of coughing or sneezing chickens.

As far as I know, there haven't been any mad cows in Australia (well, apart from my mother and Pauline Hanson), so the only prior experience I have was when there was a huge outbreak in the EU region not long after I came to Sweden. When we get these scares I think there are certain advantages to Australia being an island, an isolated one at that and one with strict quarantine rules.

In other news, it has been snowing like crazy for the last couple of days. No really:




This is my sixth winter in Sweden and I have never seen the volume of snow that fell here yesterday. It was incredible - big, fat, fluffy flakes raining down gently, but relentlessly all day, producing a landscape of soft, white, muffled mounds. Our friend Ulf measured the snow and tells us that 40 cm fell yesterday. Everything that stood still for even a short time risked becoming buried.




Needless to say, Lambi needed no encouragement to stay on the couch all day. We did entice her out for a morning walk, but as the snow was up to our top of our ankle boots, it meant that she had to plough her way through shoulder deep snow. She gave that up after five steps and voted with her paws to rush inside. I'm sure she's a cat in disguise.

A quick trip to the pier showed that the boat needed shovelling off - again! You can see that Fiona is firmly sitting in ice again, so there will be no talk of sailing until something more spring like happens.




I am tired and grouchy today because our next door neighbour came home with friends at 3.30am and thought it would be a good idea to play loud music and sit around screaming and laughing like a banshee for a couple of hours. It wasn't, but the madcow did it anyway. Hmmm...maybe we better get her tested her as well. I tell you, I would have volunteered to slaughter her for free.

Added to that, I really had to grocery shop today or else I'd have to feed Lars-Göran bird seed or dog biscuits for dinner as there was absolutely nothing else in the house to eat. The trip up to the shop was fine, but pulling home a heavy granny trolley through the unploughed snow filled footpath was murder. What was I thinking? Was I thinking? And how come it was uphill both ways?

But in good news, I see that The Poodles made it through last night to the finals of the Swedish heats of Eurovision.




Remember, I predicted it here last week and like magic, it happened. Go Poodles! I didn't watch it as it spells instant divorce in this house to mention the competition and anyway, I wanted to see Parky interview the creators of the comedy show Little Britain on another channel. I see they are a metal band which means that I doubt they'll be chosen in the finals as Swedes tend to go more for schlock than rock in their Eurovision entries. But still, they are in with a chance and Lambi will be cheering them on.

I read somewhere that Spain's entry this year is called Las Ketchup. How can anyone take this competition seriously?

It's still cold and icy today, with a thick coating of very soft snow covering everything to a depth of about 20 cm. The ploughs have been out in the streets early this morning, but several hours later, you can hardly tell that they have passed by. On the sea, the snow is filling the cracks in the ice, turning it all into a field of snow once again.




I've heard people muttering this week that it's March and high time for spring to have started. They must have very short memories, because last year at this time, it was snowing and minus 26.9C. I can report, however that some things never change. At the mention of going out into the snow, Lambi dug herself deeper into the quilts and pretended we weren't there.




I'm waiting to see how long her bladder can hold out. It's going to be a while before all of this melts. It's funny that I have an online friend, Sigurrós, who lives in Iceland and she has been posting photos on her photo site of the emerging crocus flowers. I don't know about you, but I always think of Iceland as, well... a land of ice. But it is not at all. Because of the north Atlantic stream, it is milder there than in Sweden and well on the way to spring. Some of Sigurrós's photos, with that special northern light makes me want to jump on the first available flight to Reykjavik. Maybe Lambi needs to shift there as well, though she's looking quite content on her blanket.

One bit of good news is that the apartment renovations are now in the home stretch. It's been a trying few months, not helped by the inclement weather and the maze of pipes everywhere that we've had to climb over to get around.




This was our cellar area a couple of weeks ago, with temporary sewer and water pipes set up while the new main pipes were installed and the laundry completed. I can now happily report that they have finished! And yesterday I was the first one to get to try out the new laundry.

For those who don't live here, I should point out that many apartment buildings have a communal laundry in the cellar area of the building. When I first came to Sweden, I was slightly appalled by this. Of course, I wanted my own washing machine and dryer in my own apartment. I'd never owned a drier before in my life, but you need one here as there is no options to hang up clothes outside to dry. Well, not at this time of the year.




But I've gradually come around to the idea of using the communal machines. You simply book a time and use the three industrial sized washing machines, the tumble drier and the heated drying rooms. It's great because I can now do all of my weekly washing in one go, using all the machines at once. And the laundry room looks really nice now - clean, fresh and bright:




The system seems to function really well. Several people have their own machines in their apartments, so there is not normally a problem booking a suitable time and most people do their bit by cleaning up afterwards. Of course there is always one who annoys everybody else by leaving laundry in the machines and even hogging other times that he's not booked, but I just avoid having a time near when he is booked in and that mostly functions.

These new, fancy front loading machines are easy to operate, though I thought I'd done something very wrong yesterday and called in the workers who were still in the building. I had put in my washing, added detergent and fabric softener and followed the instructions exactly. Select temperature - check. Select any extra things you want (pre-wash, extra rinse etc) - check. Press start - check. What I expected was that the machines would start to fill with water. But instead it went through a spin cycle, including a fast centrifuge. At first, the plumber assured me that it was all okay, saying that the machine was computer controlled and it weighed the load to select the optimal water level and washing time. But even he was confused and a little unsettled by the very fast centrifuge cycle. Was the water even connected, I wondered. He kept saying that they had done a test cycle on all of the machines. We waited a while and then to our relief, it suddenly started to fill with water.

Forty five minutes later, three large loads of washing were done and hanging up to dry. It's a real time saver to do it this way, leaving more time for fun things - like voting for The Poodles in tonight's Melodifestivalen.

Woof! Woof!

The virulent strain of bird flu virus H5N1 officially reached Sweden this week. The National Veterinary Institute has confirmed that the virus was found in several dead wild birds (herons and tufted ducks) near the nuclear power station at Oskarshamn, a little further south of here. Wild water birds are attracted to the area by the large number of fish who congregate around the station's warm water outflow into the chilly Baltic Sea and it is a popular stop on the migration routes.

Sweden is the ninth country in the EU to be hit by H5N1. I'm not too sure how I feel about this. Certainly I really feel for the wild birds who are going to bear the brunt of the illness and I hope and pray that it won't decimate the populations of wild birds here. Of particular concern is the plight of some of the more endangered species.

Sweden's agriculture minister Ann-Christin Nykvist, who is worried about the effect on the poultry industry said the latest outbreak was serious "but not unexpected" - reflecting the fact that most EU member states are resigned to the prospect of a bird flu outbreak on their country. The H5N1 strain has killed 90 people in South-East Asia and, earlier this year, two children in Turkey. All of the victims caught the disease from direct contact with infected birds and there is still no evidence that the virus can be transmitted between humans. So I don't worry about getting it myself.

I'm a little concerned, however, for my own two birds when we take them out sailing this summer. We do get wild swallows, swifts and gulls on the boat sometimes, so I hope there won't be a problem. We were also hoping to sail to Norway this year as well and I wonder if everyone will suddenly get nervous about allowing birds to cross borders. I guess we'll have to keep an eye on the situation.

In Stockholm they are taking no chances at all. The birds staying in the city are routinely fed during winter - up until now this has been by hand. But the work and safety people have stepped in and vetoed that, so this enormous mechanical bird feeder is now being used instead. A bit of an overkill, I think.

It is a return to winter wonderland weather here in Sweden, which is to be expected in March. Earlier in the week, it was sunny and the snow was melting nicely. There was a spring feeling in the air.




The sun glittered and a few brave shoots stuck their heads tentatively above the ground. But winter was not quite finished with us all yet and it has been snowing almost continuously for days now. The whole world is a sea of white.




Even the sea itself is a sea of white. Every day, Lars-Göran sweeps the snow from the boat and the next day, it's all there again. It seems pointless when the snowfall is so persistent but it's not good for the deck to be compressed under ice. It is so heart breaking to see the pretty little coots huddling together on the icy sea between the big icebreaker ships.




I want to gather them all up and bring them home to my warm apartment. They look so cold out there!




Though it is easier for the residents of the island across the strait from us to come to town for the weekly shopping trip. No need to haul out the boat, just walk across the harbour. I was a bit surprised at this man - he wasn't a fit, young person and I was hoping that the ice didn't give way while he was out there. I'm probably just a worry wart. It's funny to see someone out walking between the sea markers and know that is where we usually sail.





I've got a busy week ahead, so I hope the snow does not hinder the running of the trains. I have a friend coming to town from the far north who I'd like to catch up with. I was commenting to someone the other day that the life of an ex-pat is a transitory thing, with people coming into and going out of your life on a fairly regular basis. This can be unsettling and over time you learn not to get too attached to other ex-pats, because you know you'll be going your separate ways. However, there are a few here for the long haul and it's great to see them when I can. The Stockholm International Boat Show is on as well and that will be another trip to town. Meanwhile, it looks like a swirling snowglobe outside:




It can't keep up, can it?

This was the scene in Medborgaplatsen (a huge open square in the southern part of Stockholm) on Monday night. A staggering thirty thousand people braved the early evening February chill, dark and snow to welcome home ”Sweden’s heroes”. People were ecstatic, emotions ran high, with several members of the highly charged crowd openly weeping with joy and declaring it to be the best day of my whole life Touching, isn’t it?




So who are these magnificent ”heroes” returning from a great battle to bring peace and goodwill to mankind? Would you believe it was the Swedish men’s ice hockey team? I wish I was joking, but alas I’m not. The team was returning from Turin, having won a gold medal in the winter games. I was astounded that 30,000 besotted fools would cheer on a group of multi-millionaire professional sportsmen, returning from a game having done no more than you’d expect (ie playing hockey to the best of their ability) as though they were heroes and figures to be held up and adored. Get a grip, people. It’s only a game – hardly something to warrant such an outpouring of joy and wonder. They are hockey players. They played hockey. There’s nothing extraordinary in that. They didn’t “do it for us, for all of Sweden” as so many of the crowd seemed to believe. They did it for themselves, their bank balance, their future sponsorship deals and because it’s what they're paid to do.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m truly happy that they won on the day and I think it’s a victory that the players themselves would celebrate along with their supporters, but this kind of evangelical religious reverence I find very tribal and rather disturbing. And the drivel spouted in the press about this was a complete waste of ink and paper.

The other puzzling thing was that it was only the men's hockey team that was deemed worthy of this public frenzy. What about the other atheletes who won gold (Sweden won 7 gold medals) - are they not worthy? Are ski-ing, curling, biathalon "lesser" sports than hockey? What about the other silver and bronze medalists? What about all of those who were chosen to compete? The gold medal winning women's curling team is made up of ordinary people with real jobs who have to practice their sport in their spare time. They even had to finance part of the cost of the trip to Turin themselves! Why not do a big welcome home for them all, rather than play favourites. So much for the famous Swedish sense of fair play and equality.

The other “event” that is dominating Sweden at the moment, as it does every Spring is the six weeks of shame that is Melodifestivalen. In Australia, we are vaguely aware of the infamous Eurovision Song Competition via the broadcasts on SBS, where we see selected nations sending a representative to prance around in a spangled costume lipsynching to some appalling, cheesy Eurotrash song. Then each competing nation votes for the “best” song (usually totally biased and based more on political alliance and old scores to settle). The winner is then declared as the king or queen of Europop and usually disappears into obscurity where they belong, though the country where the winner is from gets to host the event the next year.

According to my friend Helen, in normal countries with a sense of perspective like the UK and with its population of 60,000,000, they have a half hour program called Making Up Your Mind where the British entrant is chosen. Get that – one tv program lasting 30 minutes. Easy peasy.

“We in Sweden”, however, know how to take ghastly, low grade, pointless television to new lows, so in this tiny nation of 9,000,000 people they need six weeks to do the same thing. And each program is two hours long, culminating in a final where the song is selected. When I tell you that Sweden finished 19th out of 24 countries last year, you can appreciate what a monumental waste of time this all is. In fact this means that Sweden is not among the 14 automatic finalist countries for the first time in many years and will have to battle it out in the qualifiers. Much gnashing of teeth and wailing ensued, only partly ameliorated by the fact that the Greek winner turns out to live in Sweden, meaning we can claim her by default. *rolls eyes*

When I point out the awful amateurish nature of it all, Swedes are quick to tell me that it is all part of “the charm” and that lurid costumes, dance routines that belong on the stage of a strip club and ghastly songs is what makes it fun. I am of the opinion that there is a very fine line between laughing along with the dubious presenters and their cringing jokes in this slightly campy show, and feeling embarrassed for them. Melodifestivalen takes a giant step way over that line. It’s funny that people tell me that “nobody takes it seriously. It’s just some fun, something to laugh at” , then get really defensive when I tell them that I think it’s a load of crap. Yet among themselves, they discuss each show, each entrant etc as though it is deadly serious and of national importance.

The only reason that I may vaguely be interested this year is that a group called "The Poodles" is entering a song called "Night Of Passion". I have never heard of either the group or the song, but I intend to vote for them and urge everyone else to do the same when they appear in Karlskrona this Saturday night. I’ll have the perfect mascot for them if they make it to Greece this year for the finals in...well, whenever. May I think. Oh dear. We’ll already be out sailing and will have to miss it.

And please don’t bother to email me with impassioned pleas for Melodifestivalen and complaints that I don’t “understand” what it’s all about. I understand only too well. And I’ve earned the right to moan about Sweden if I want to!

Luckily here in Nynäshamn we don’t have to worry about nonsense like that – we are waiting for the snow to melt and the harbour to return to full life without the need for icebreakers and thermal wear.




March already – only a few weeks until we sail off into the blue again. I can’t wait!

Don’t forget, “The Poodles” on Saturday night.......