My big red Advent star is glowing softly in the window beside me. The little silver snowflake tealight candle is turning slowly in the shadow of the poinsettia and the tree is sparkling, sparkling, sparkling behind me. I can sit and take stock of our Christmas celebrations, which were lovely, though tinged with sadness as we learned one of our dearest friends was terminally ill. It has taken me a few days to fully get over the sudden shock of that news.

But back to Christmas Eve. We drove up to Stockholm in the late morning, stopping for a while at the Botkyrka cemetery, where we lit candles on the graves of my parents-in-law. It is something that many families do and the place was quite crowded with people paying their respects to departed loved ones.

Then we went on to my brother-in-law's home, laden with gifts and trays of vegetarian goodies for the Christmas table. When we arrived, Mille passed around a small tray of miniature ceramic cups of glögg, a hot mulled wine, or spiced punch, with "punch" being the operative word. This Swedish potion of warmed red wine and Madeira, served over blanched almonds and raisins, is very heady stuff. Glögg is the Swedish word for "glow" -- and after even one tiny mug of the stuff, the name is fully explained.




At 3 p.m., everyone took a break from the Christmas preparations for one of the more peculiar and more recent Swedish Christmas traditions, established in the 1960s. Virtually the entire nation -- millions of Swedes -- gather in front of the television set to watch an hour of classic Disney cartoons that have been dubbed into Swedish.

The entire family sits together and chuckles over the antics of Kalle Anka (Donald Duck). We watch Mickey Mouse and Goofy on a caravan holiday, Ferdinand the bull sniffing the daisies, Lady and the Tramp eating spaghetti, Mowgli and Baloo singing in the jungle and Chip 'n Dale teasing Pluto and making a mess of Mickey's Christmas tree. There's an excerpt from the animated version of Cinderella, with the mice singing in hilarious, high-pitched Swedish and a scene from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs with equally ludicrous singing.




Everyone filled their plates with Christmas food and sat around the table, talking and laughing while we ate. Even Lambi got her own spot at the head of the table (where else?) I had to rely on L-G to fill my plate as I have damaged the ligaments in my knee and after days of being on my feet, it finally protested that enough was enough.




The very interesting thing about this Christmas was that I witnessed a generation shift that was quite marked. We are used to Lars-Göran's mum as being the one quietly eating, with the middle generation (L-G, his brother and wife, myself) steering the conversations and the younger generation looking on and occasionally putting in a few words.

Not this year. I had already wondered what Christmas 2008 would be like. As you know, that first year after the death of a loved one you have to learn to live without that person. The holidays are one of those time when I knew that L-G's mum's absence would be felt and I worried that Christmas would suffer and become grey.

I worried in vain. The middle generation is now the older generation. And i saw that we sat and mostly ate quietly, listening to the new "middle generation" take over and laugh and chat with no help from us. With little baby Viggo being the newest of the "young" generation, I can see this cycle continuing. And I know that my mother-in-law would be thrilled.




At the conclusion of dinner, it was time for the presents. In Australia, we simply open presents placed under the tree the night before, but it is traditional in Sweden, especially in households with small children, for the presents to be delivered by a family member, dressed up as the jultomten, the Christmas gnome, in a red Santa cap. And this being Sweden, land of equal opportunity, our Santa was a woman.




For centuries, Swedes believed in the presence of tomtar, mythical creatures a bit like leprechauns, who were thought to live under the floor of the house or barn, bringing good luck and mischief in equal measure. Every country in Scandinavia has some equivalent form of gnomes or elves or brownies.

Jultomten hands out the presents, or julklappar -- which translates, oddly, as "Christmas knocks." The name comes from an ancient gift-giving tradition that is part prank. The gift-giver would creep stealthily up to a friend or relative's door, knock hard, open the door and throw the present inside the house (obviously they didn't give fine crystal or china) and then run like hell to get away without being seen.

The recipient would then have to figure out the identity of the giver by deciphering a little verse written on the wrapping. We still spend hours writing little witty rhymes (julrim) to attach to each gift, suggesting its contents, or teasing the recipient.




L-G wrote an unintentionally hilarious julrim to go with one of my gifts. When tomte read out the bit about "pleasure from down under", the room erupted in wolf whistles and howls of laughter from the assembled people.

At first I thought that if this was something sexy and kinky that he thought I was going to unwrap in front of his family, I was going to KILL him. But I saw his bright red, confused face and realised that he innocently thought of Australia as "Down Under", whereas the others were not familiar with the term, and I think they had their minds focused on a quite different "down under"... LOL!




The gift turned out to be a box of assorted Aussie goodies that HE will more than likely scoff himself. But that Christmas rhyme will go down in Nordström family history I think.

I also got some books to keep me busy over the winter months. Some of the nicest gifts were those sent by friends from afar. They may not have been the most expensive gifts, but each was selected with just me in mind, and that made them special. Among the gifts that made me smile were a calendar of Dogs on the Job from my friend Sandy at Fish Creek. She said she hoped I'd enjoy looking at the beautiful Aussie scenery and that perhaps the dogs would inspire Lambi to get off the couch. Not much chance of that happening, though she said she ought to visit Australia and give those dogs lessons in "power slacking".




There was also a pretty little silver tealight candle holder from my friend Justine, an Aussie living in Stockholm. It has snowflakes hooked on around the roof, which rotate when alight. And a little biscuit cutter shaped like a poodle from my friend Holly in the UK. I can now offer my friends "dog biscuits" just to see the look on their face.

But one of the best moments of the Christmas season was watching little Viggo sitting with his dad, chewing on his new little Lambi toy. It's what Christmas is all about.




I hope that all those of you who are dealing with the deep freeze that has settled over so much of the northern Europe are safe and warm and that you're not plagued by power outages or any other related problems.

What can one say about new beginnings that hasn't been said already? In a couple of hours it will be 2009 here in Sweden, some many hours before a lot of you celebrate its entry and some many hours after it began back home in Australia.

Let’s hope 2009 brings a quick recovery and peace to the Middle East, to India and Pakistan, Iraq, Sudan and elsewhere. Have fun. Be safe.

God Jul to all of my readers who celebrate it. To those of you who celebrate proximate holidays, merry ... those. And to those who celebrate nothing at all, well, here's hoping you make it through the season with your sanity intact.




I wish we had the pretty snow scene featured above, but it is just a leaden grey sky and cold. In a few minutes, we'll be packing up the car with dog, food and presents for the family and heading to Huddinge (a southern suburb of Stockholm) for Christmas Eve.

There will family and food and presents. Of these the most important for me is family. We will all gather to watch Kalle Anka, visit L-G's parents' grave, enjoy a huge meal together, wait for tomte to arrive and most importantly, share laughter and good times.

This is how our Christmas Eve is always spent when we are all together and even though I know how the day will pan out in advance, I still looking forward to having everyone together at the same time. It will be noisy, chaotic and lots of fun.

My Christmas wish this year for my family is peace, happiness and not a few laughs.

My Christmas wish for you, and yours: May your festive season, however you celebrate it, be peaceful, happy and safe.

Happy Christmas/Holidays/Solstice all.

Honestly, I have not forgotten you or my blog. I have been so busy with Christmas preparation and a few other things that blogging time this week has been non-existent. I've also managed to damage the ligaments in my left knee for the second time this year, so I've been hobbling about the place, high as the proverbial kite on painkillers, which doesn't help matters. Can I just say right here that my timing sucks!

On a brighter note, isn't this card cool? My friend Carolyn sent it from London and it made me laugh for the longest time. We all need to laugh at this time of the year.




My goodness Christmas is only "two sleeps away" as my gran used to say. Though here in Sweden we celebrate the Eve, so it's only ONE sleep for me! Where on earth has the year gone? Perhaps because I started the year with a significant milestone in the shape of my birthday, I have been more aware of time passing quickly or maybe it’s just because this year has been insanely busy and somewhat traumatic, but it truly seems only yesterday I was preparing for Christmas and now here it is again.

I’m pleased to say that apart from a bit of last minute making of knäck, I am all organised. I've been chained to the stove for days, but now I'm done. Presents are wrapped although not all are under the tree - that will happen tomorrow to stop certain people peeking. Not even I’m allowed to have a sneaky feel of my Christmas presents, which quite frankly, I think is pretty unfair.




My dear husband put up our tree today and it sits in the corner of the living room, twinkling away happily. I really wish it were a real tree, but it is an artificial one, though my smart husband made the suggestion of popping down to the square where they are selling live trees and picking up some of the trimmings and use them at the base of the tree, so we still will have that wonderful outdoors, woody, pine aroma.

In Sweden, the tree of choice at Christmas is the Norway spruce, which can seem a bit spindly to those who are used to the lush, full look of firs. But the spruce's spare look perfectly matches austere Lutheran traditions of this country and I've come to love it.




That austerity is further evident in the traditional ornaments on the tree: white, candle shaped lights, small hearts, angels and circles made of twisted straw. From pagan times, straw was used in midwinter rituals to appease the gods and ensure a good harvest in the coming year. With the arrival of Christianity, straw took on an added religious association with the manger that cradled the infant Jesus.




A straw goat, made from thick yellow straw bound by lengths of red ribbon, stands guard over the presents under the tree. In olden days, Christmas presents were brought to each household by a person wearing a straw mask of a goat -- one of the oldest symbols in Sweden. The arrival of the "Christmas goat" is depicted memorably in the classic 1947 Swedish children's book, "Petter and Lotta's Christmas," by Elsa Beskow.

Tonight is traditionally "Little Christmas" in Sweden, which involves a blizzard of last minute preparations for the celebrations tomorrow - baking, wrapping and spending hours (especially if Swedish is not your native tongue!) writing little, witty rhymes to attach to each gift, suggesting its contents, or teasing the recipient. I'm pretty sure that my rhymes are a bit grammatically incorrect, but I'm sure I'll be forgiven, after all, it's the thought that counts.

So tomorrow we pack up the car early and head to Stockholm to celebrate the day with the family at my brother-in-law's lovely home. It will be the first Christmas without L-G's mum, so I wonder how that will be - a little sad, I guess.

I know we don't all celebrate Christmas, but for those who do, I am sure you are all really busy getting ready. Hope you find lots of time to stop and hug the ones you love. Over and over again.

This morning we lit the fourth and final Advent candle. In a few short days, it will be Christmas! These Advent candles are not just a pretty centerpiece to have on the table during the holiday season. They represent a ritual, a time to slow down during the busy season and remember why it is that we go through all this craziness.

By stopping to light a candle, reflecting on what the holiday is really about can help you feel a deeper sense of peace. Because in the end, Christmas is not about the gifts or who has the biggest, brightest tree. It is a celebration of the birth of the saviour of one of the biggest religions on earth.




Today is also the day we should say "Happy winter solstice to you", as the shortest day comes and winter descends upon us officially... it's grey skies and rain down here with snow pretty much everywhere else. But even so, I have a sunny mood for some reason. Must be all the great food I've been eating :)


As a former resident of the great south land, I used to think that I understood what the Winter solstice was all about and thought that, while Stonehenge was pretty cool, weren't the Druids going just a bit nutty over the whole sun thing? Silly me.

Unless you've lived above 60° latitude in the Northern Hemisphere, the depths of Winter darkness and the glory of Summertime sunshine aren't nearly as dramatically different. I now completely understand why pagans sacrificed anything that was available and prayed to a goat in order to hasten the return of the glowing orb on the horizon. I find I'm doing it myself :)

A few degrees of latitude make a big difference. Small wonder that people in the Caribbean didn't go around building henges as they were too busy drinking fine rum and enjoying 11 or more hours of sunshine every day of the year. So, before the people who get a luxurious 10 hours of sunshine on the shortest day of the year go dancing around a fire and whatnot, come spend a winter up here where the solstice really means something.




Looking ahead, from now onwards, the evenings will start to get a little longer. By the end of December, sunset will be nine minutes later; by the end of January, a very noticeable seventy-three minutes later. It will be mid January though, before sunrise starts to get earlier. Those who are obsessed by the length of the day, daylight hours, sunrise, sunset and solstices will enjoy SunriseSunset.com.

Now I must make the finishing touches to my seafood chowder, as we have guests arriving for any minute now.

It's a dull and depressing sort of day today. So grey, dark and bone-chillingly cold that it feels as though it will never be bright and warm again. It's on days like this that one really has to fight the urge to give up, so the trick that I've learned from the Swedes is to keep busy and to actively look for any little signs of joy there are around.

One of the reasons that the lighted candles worn by Lucia the other day are so important is because Christmas in Sweden is all about light - a blessed and literal ray of hope in the dark, cold days of the long Swedish winter, which can arrive in early October and last well into late April. With half of the year being quite wintery, light and warmth are commodities that we actively seek.




One way that we can do this as we speed towards the winter solstice is to create a fairyland of lights. Moving through the cities, towns and little hamlets, you'll see streets, apartment windows, office buildings and shops all bedecked with entire galaxies of tiny white lights.




It isn't only in the bigger cities, either. The picture below (you can click on it for a larger view) was taken in the early afternoon in Vadstena, the little town where we lived last year. This is quite typical of the shopping districts here - stars looped across the road and arches of lights on each building.




Note the Christmas "rush" of shoppers! It's funny that you really don't get that here at all. Sure, it can be busy at some places, but nothing like the mad crush in other countries, where for good reason this is called the silly season. And note the welcoming fires outside of a couple of the shops. These are called eldkorg (literally fire baskets) and in the daylight look like this:




Along with the more smaller and more common marschaller, they provide a welcome light and warmth and are used extensively outside of restaurants, shops, private homes to welcome party guests and of course to light up the Christmas markets.




Homes also are decorated, although never with the awful and somewhat ostentatious, Griswald-style displays of plastic Santas and reindeer on rooftops, or Las Vegas-scale lights in the shrubbery. Most Swedish houses are adorned simply, with a plain evergreen garland or wreath on the front door, and an electric star and candelabra of seven "candles" in every window. Of course, there are exceptions....




But as you can see, even this is mostly white lights, albeit if a few more than would normally be considered tasteful in this austere land. I know people consider this house a little extreme, so I wondered what they'd make of this place in Ohio. While I like Amazing Grace as much as the next person and I gather that the music doesn't play (one tunes into it on a special radio station), but the constant flashing would either induce an epileptic fit, or I'd have to hire a hit man to kill my neighbours - season of goodwill or not.


White lights are the preferred ones here, though some coloured lights are slowly seeping onto the market. A walk around the neighbourhood in the afternoon shows some of the more typical ways of lighting the winter darkness and at the same time preparing for the festive season.




And note, I said afternoon walk. Yes, I know it looks like midnight, but this is the reality of late afternoon. When I first came to Sweden I couldn't shake off the urge to put on my pyjamas and climb into bed at 3pm. Those brought up in these latitudes accept each change as it comes, but I still find the differences dramatic. Though to be honest, I have far more problem with the midnight sun in summer than I do with the deep and dark December.

A lot of the reason for that is the use of lights in winter. Swedes light more candles a day than the average catholic church uses in a year. We have candles in every room and I have acquired a collection of tea light candle holders to create pools of light and warmth around our home. It's so much cosier than turning on the bright central light.




It's all very understated and minimalist, but that seems to suit the land. I really love this time of Advent in Sweden. The atmosphere is entrancing with all the homes and businesses lit up, shops bursting at the seams with seasonal goodies, the scent of woodsmoke outside and the delicious aromas of Christmas baking filling the hallways of apartment buildings.

I don't know whether it's because it's winter and it feels more cosy, but I find it a much simpler and more magical time than I did in Australia, where I was much more stressed. I still do a lot at Christmas, but I only do what I really want to do. That way, I can bring the spirit of Christmas to my home without ruining the holidays for me. By keeping things simpler, I now approach Christmas with a sense of joyful anticipation rather than stress-filled dread.




I've been baking up a storm here, so Mr Cookie Monster will have plenty to nibble on over the Christmas season and so I can be a good Swedish hostess and have at least sju sorts kakor (seven types of biscuits) to serve visitors.

Later in the week, I'll post pictures and recipes for my Italian style hazelnut thins and Swedish saffron skorpor. Today, though it is one of my favourite pastries which we call Christmas stars. I use commercially bought Puff Pastry (use either ready rolled or in a block). The filling is plum jam, but you could use some other kind of red jam that you like (raspberry or fruit of the forest would be nice as well). The only other ingredients are a beaten egg for glazing and icing sugar for decorating.

If pastry is in a block, you need to roll it out to about 3mm thickness. Cut the pastry into squares, about 10cm or 4", but they can be bigger or smaller if you like. Then you make a diagonal cut from each corner of the pastry until about half way to the centre (see the diagram to the left).

Place a teaspoon of jam into the centre of the pastry square and then fold in every second corner. Press to seal and then glaze with a little beaten egg. Bake the pastries in the centre of a hot oven - 225-250C for around 8-10 minutes. Allow to cool. Serve them dusted with a little icing sugar.

Enjoy with a cup of tea, while watching the eternal December dusk....

Today, we lit the third Advent candle. Wow, the time is just speeding away now and Christmas feels so close. When I was growing up, we called today, the third Sunday in Advent, Gaudete Sunday. As my parents were fairly strict Catholics, they instilled in us the idea of Advent as a period of anticipation before Christmas, and as with the pre-Easter season of Lent, they felt it should be a time of penitence and fasting. However, in our child's mind, this was always balanced by looking forward to one of the most joyful times of all - the celebration of Christmas.




There are no real religious connotations to Christmas here in Sweden and in fact many people would associate it more with the ancient pagan traditions of yule and a way to mark the end of the dark season and an anticipation of the New Year. I've found that Sweden at Christmas reveals itself as something of a contradiction -- an ultramodern country with a reverence for centuries-old tradition. The same people who have one of the world's highest per-capita rates of computer and mobile phone ownership, and who are responsible for all that sleek futuristic furniture, revert at this time of year to lighting their homes with tallowy candles, half-believing in tomtar (the Swedish version of leprechauns), and serving lutfisk, a hideous, gelatinous fish dish that dates back to medieval times. It been reviled by successive generations of Swedes ever since, yet is stoically served as part of the Christmas smörgåsbord every year.

While waves of immigrants from Eastern Europe, the Middle East and Africa (not to mention the Aussies) are making their mark on Sweden, the country is still by and large remarkably uniform in culture and custom. Most of Sweden's 9 million people are Lutheran, by birth if not in practice. On December 24, the day in Sweden when the Christmas feast is served and the presents are opened, millions of Swedes put an array of identical foods on the table and practice the same rituals at the same hour. It's pretty amazing.

By now, then entire nation has been celebrating the season for more than three weeks. Christmas in Sweden begins unofficially on the first day of December, when Swedes (my husband included!) open the first little cardboard door on their secular Advent calendars to begin the countdown to the big day.

One thing they are very big on is decorating their homes in an array of Christmas dressing, both inside and outside. One of the most interesting outdoor decorating ideas I've seen came from an article in Better Homes & Gardens. What could cheer up a cold climate more than a welcoming wreath made of ice?




These are cheap and easy to make and if you have kids, I know they'll love helping you out. Here in a subzero climate they will last for weeks. In Adelaide, maybe minutes :) I'm sure the parrots would love one of these full of seeds and berries, Dave.

You'll need round cake tins or bowls from the kitchen cupboard. A ring-shaped tin works really well if you have one. Then you need cranberries or other kinds of bright cheerful berries or flower petals, ferns or other greenery, festive ribbons or strips of Christmas fabric for attaching the wreath and some water.




Simply fill your containers with the water. If you have a plain pan without a ring, then just place a small bowl in the centre, weighing it down with a stone if you need to. Place a selection of greenery and berries around the circle. Most of them will float but it works best if you try to place the greens under the berries. Place the water filled containers in a cold place (outside) to freeze. Dave, you'll have to use the deep freeze, I'm afraid.




Bring them inside and place them for less than a minute in sink filled with warm water to loosen the ice. Remove them from the containers and then loosen and remove the inner bowls if you've used them. Place them outside quickly before they melt.




Tie a ribbon or a strip of fabric on it if you want to hang it on the garden gate or on the door. They also make a lovely table top decoration for an outside table. Remember to not place in direct sunlight (if you are lucky enough to see any sunlight). If you don't want to use right away, you can store in the freezer in a freezer bag until needed.





Meanwhile, this is what the world looks like in Sweden in December: leaden skies, deep snow, short icy grey days and long inky blue shadows. Under its white coverlet, the landscape is fast asleep and dreaming of springtime.

We have a very long way to go.

December 13th is a special day in Sweden. It is the day that the official countdown to Christmas begins, with the celebration of light, in the form of Sankta Lucia (St Lucy) whose name day it is today.

It can be hard for someone who does not live in the far north of the globe to understand what all the fuss is about. And I have been asked before what an Italian Catholic saint is doing strolling around a decidedly protestant and largely secular Sweden with her eyeballs intact? Good question.

As a country where the seasonal changes are so striking, the tradition of celebrating the end of the darkest period of the year goes back a very long way in time, certainly pre-dating Christianity in this region. According to the old Julian calendar (replaced by the Gregorian calendar in 1582), the winter solstice was on the 13th, so Lucia night was the longest of the year. It was believed that on this night, evil powers were at their greatest, so it was best to stay awake and be alert to avoid the Lord of Darkness. The end of this, the longest night, and the subsequent return of light could then be celebrated. Of course, the winter solstice is a week later these days, but the Lucia tradition lives on.




In the cold and dark mid-winter, our everyday lives really are brightened up by a celebration of light. All over Sweden, in private homes, in schools, daycare centres, offices, shopping malls, old folks' homes, hospitals and railway stations, young girls dressed in long white robes with a red sash around the waist, bearing a crown of lit candles on her head and carrying a sheaf of wheat fill the land with music and candle light. A certain sense of stillness sets over the country as people take the time to sit and listen to the well loved songs and share a snack of Lucia buns (rich, saffron rolls) and crisp ginger thins with a cup of coffee or perhaps a glass of warm spiced wine.




Darkness is an inherent part of December living in the North. The celebrations surrounding Lucia are a way of turning what could otherwise be a tiring and irksome period into one which instead feels both comforting and welcoming. This idea of stillness, soft music and a cup (or three) of mulled wine can be a tonic for the spirit and give us a welcome breather, so we are better prepared to face the hustle and bustle of the next couple of weeks leading up to Christmas. I agree with the many Swedes who feel that the absolute highlight of this pre-Christmas season is Lucia and I'd feel as though I'd missed out if I couldn't see at least one Lucia ceremony.




Today, Lucia is marked with candles and music. The tradition calls for a Lucia (or ‘Lusse Brud’ – Bride of Lusse) to be crowned and lead a procession of people dressed in white robes. In towns all of the country, these parades are held with the lucky girl chosen as Lucia wearing her crown of candles, being accompanied by girls with tinsel or leafy wreaths in their hair and star boys in tall, white hats, with everyone carrying candles and singing the traditional Lucia song.




The procession wends its way through town at dusk, making scheduled stops at various points to welcome Lucia. The procession's high point is at the church in an incredibly moving ceremony where the whole church is in darkness. We wait inside with expectation until Lucia, her candles burning brightly, walks through the darkened room to the altar. Her escorts form a semi-circle, with Lucia in the middle. They then sing a series of well known, traditional songs, usually with texts about Lucia being a bringer of light and also about Christmas. The Lucia procession is followed by coffee (or mulled wine) with saffron buns and ginger bread.





I've been to see Lucia every year since I've lived in Sweden and have always been moved by the simplicity and grace of the tradition. A beautiful, quiet way of ushering in this high season in the Christian calendar as well as reminding all of us that the darkness will soon be over and light will return to the north again.




England's great Romantic poet, John Donne, said it so in A nocturnall upon S. Lucies day, Being the shortest day:





There is quite an odd mixture of the pagan and the Christian traditions in the Nordic countries. Tomte, the Swedish equivalent of Santa Claus, used to be represented by the pagan goat, where offerings were made to this god in the darkest time of the year to bring the sun back. Light plays a significant role in many of the celebrations here and so it isn't terribly surprising that the patron saint of light and the blind should be part of the holiday tradition in spite of the Catholics having little success in establishing themselves in the Nordic lands.

We began our day in the traditional manner, with the man of the house being served breakfast in bed. Judging by the Cheshire cat grin I was greeted with, I think he could get very used to this idea! I came into the darkened room, bearing a tray with freshly baked saffron buns, hot coffee, glögg with raisins and almonds and gingersnaps. I didn't wear the crown of candles, but simply had my little moose candle holders each containing a lit with a tea light candle to represent the light. And yes, I did sing a few bars of the song, but me being me, I sang it as Santa Moose-i-a....




The recipe I used for the buns was one I got from Beverly several years ago. It's always perfect!

Traditional Lussekatter

Makes 36

50g fresh yeast or 12 g dry yeast
1g saffron
500 ml milk
1 egg
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
200g margarine
6 cups flour + additional flour for kneading

Glaze:
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk

Mix your saffron threads with a tsp of the sugar and crush with a mortar and pestle until well mixed. Set aside. Melt the margarine in a medium saucepan. When melted, add the milk and heat until finger warm (around 37C or 98F).

Put the yeast in a bowl and pour over the buttery-milk, using your fingers to break up the yeast and mix it well. Add the salt and sugar, saffron, egg and then add 5 cups of the flour. You can never judge in advance how much you'll need as it depends on the absorption rate. I find it best to start with less and add it slowly afterwards. You are aiming for a soft dough, so add whatever you need from the remaining cup of flour, until the point where the dough just leaves the sides of the bowl. Cover with a clean tea-towel and leave the dough to rise for at least 30 minutes.

Turn out onto a lightly floured board and knead for a minute. Divide into three pieces as it is easier to work with. You ought to get 12 buns from each piece. Roll each into a "sausage" about 20cm (8 in) long. Shape the buns into a curly "S"-shape, tucking in the ends tightly and put a raisin in each end. Place the buns on a baking tray that has been greased or covered with parchment paper. Cover with a clean cloth and leave to rise again until double in size (about 30 minutes).

Meanwhile, preheat the oven 225C (450F).

Make the glaze by beating one egg with 3 tablespoons milk. Brush the tops of the buns with the glaze just prior to baking. Put them in the oven for about 10 minutes, or until golden brown. Cool, covered with a clean cloth on a rack.




These buns freeze very well. You can take them out as needed and zap them slightly in the microwave oven to warm them just before serving.

Now, if I could only get Pavarotti's Santa Lucia out of my head....

Yesterday, we spent the day going back and forth to Eskilstuna, so I could be seen by a specialist at the district hospital. I must have been subconsciously worried about it, because I awoke from a really bizarre dream where Elvis invited me for lunch with him in the hospital cafeteria! Why, oh why it was Elvis, who I don't even like, is anybody's guess. But I can tell you that when I volunteered the information over breakfast, L-G looked at me as though he thought it wiser to visit the psychiatric ward, rather than the mammogram centre.

Eskilstuna is just over 100 kms from here, so it was a bit of a long drive. However, what made my day was that during the night, the snow had returned and we could admire the beautiful white landscape. It was that lovely fluffy snow, which fell gently and steadily, piling up decoratively on the bare branches, as though someone had sprayed the world with marshmallow. Just lovely!




As we ventured further inland, the snow was heavier. Fortunately the road surface was very good, we had on our studded winter tyres, traffic was very light - and L-G is an excellent driver. It meant that we could enjoy the scenery around us. It is so dark at this time of the year, particularly on a cloudy day, where it is almost dusk-like all day. When you get snow, it lightens the world. The dark pine forests take on another dimension and seem a more fairyland like place rather than a dark and menacing wall.




Everything went really well at the hospital. They were so caring and gentle with me, carefully explaining why I was called back and what they were most worried about that I began to think the news might be bad. I think I was in denial about it all. So, they retook one scan, then the doctor looked at it, comparing it with a set of scans I had with me from an earlier treatment back in Adelaide.

Still not happy, they took an ultrasound of the area and decided that they would drain what they thought was a large cyst. They stuck in a needle the size of Nelson's Column (without anaesthetic!) and took a surprising amount of what looked like beef bouillon from my right boob. Once she saw it, the doctor said it looked normal, so they were happy to let me go with a follow-up to be scheduled in a year.

As Elvis was nowhere to be seen, we left the building and went back out into the snow. Much relieved, I can tell you. The visit was free, which was a nice surprise, plus on looking at the receipt the receptionist had given me, I saw that I could send it in to the local government and they would reimburse me for my travelling costs! So, those high tax rates do pay sometimes.




We had originally thought that we might look around Eskilstuna a little, but it was bitterly cold and still snowing, so we took a quick peek at the older part of town, then headed homewards. I had packed thermoses of tea and coffee and made some rolls up as I knew we'd be away all day and I hate being hungry. We thought we would turn off the main road and stop near a beautiful old church we had seen on the way there and eat our snack.




Now, isn't this view much better than a hospital cafeteria, with or without Elvis? This church is at a little place called Ärla. It dominates the landscape around it, built as it is on a small rise, overlooking the flat farmland. The church itself dates from 1789, though parts of it are from the middle ages. The warm, golden colour made it seem very welcoming and there is no doubt that the snow added a new dimension to the whole picture. There is such beauty even in a stark, wintery landscape. I find a scene like this extraordinary still, despite having lived here so long.

We made good time on the homeward stretch, so we were able to go in and buy some curtains we'd been discussing for the living room. Plus I fell in love with a lovely tealight candleholder, featuring three reindeer. It called out to me and I had to bring it home. You'll have to wait until tomorrow for a picture, though.

Today, I have baked my lussekatter all ready for Lucia tomorrow, when L-G will be served breakfast in bed for the second time this week! It surprises me that this tradition still survives in a country where women's rights are considered as equal to men's. But it seems that on December 13th, the women still serve their menfolk the traditional Lucia breakfast. But more about that tomorrow!

And to really brighten my day, a wonderful parcel of goodies arrived from a dear friend in Adelaide. It was just like Christmas!




Inside were beautiful Haigh's chocolates, some mini Tim Tams, my very favourite Lemon Myrtle Tea, plus a Christmas Tea (both from the T Bar), packets of herb seeds to grow a kitchen garden, two recipe booklets from Delicious, a Christmas runner, a calendar of beautiful Australian scenes, a Tim Tam tea mug, two pot holders and a selection of blank greeting cards, each featuring an Australian flower. There was also some of her beautiful, home made Garam Masala which I love to use to spice up my curries.

So a big thankyou to Paul. It made my day to open up a parcel which I know you have put together with just us in mind. It showed that while we are physically far away, our friendship lives on as strongly as the days when we met up at Burnside Village for our weekly cappuccino therapy. And what a fabulous way to light up the darkest time of our year.

Today's Lars-Göran's birthday. We woke up to a lovely blanket of sparkling, white snow which made him groan. Whatever is wrong with the man? It's a landscape to make you smile. But not one of which he is fond. He said he wished he was in Australia at the moment, where it is summer, but between you and me, I think he'd die in an Adelaide summer.




As is the tradition in Sweden, we served him breakfast in bed. Well... not exactly breakfast, because he doesn't want to eat alone. But I made him coffee and heated one of the lovely marzipan-filled saffron buns I made the other day. We brought out the breakfast tray, complete with gifts and a symbolic candle, because if we lit the right number of candles (even in dog years) we may have set off the fire alarm.




So, what did I get him? You can see above that I bought him a new mobile phone. His battery on his other phone is starting to lose power constantly and cut out at the most inopportune moments. So I went for the same brand (so he can find all of the buttons) - just a simple phone to make and receive calls and text messages. He does not want or need one with all the bells and whistles. The first person to call him on the phone this morning was his eldest son, so that was nice.

You can also see that I bought him a pair of lovely lined leather gloves. He has been wearing these old, quite ragged gloves for a while. When I came to Sweden, he laughed at the pathetic acrylic gloves I had with me and marched me to the shop and selected a pair of leather gloves, lined with Thinsulate. They are as good today as they were when he bought them. Yet he persists in "making do" with his old, broken gloves - until today!

And Lambi gave him not one, not two, but TEN 200g blocks of white chocolate! That ought to last him until at least the weekend, I should think.




I hope you will all join me in wishing him an incredibly happy birthday. Without his love, support, guidance and strength, I just wouldn't be here. Sometimes, it seems that we take for granted the people we love the most. Those who are so important to our daily lives. It doesn’t mean we don’t care, it's just that sometimes, life gets crazy and there isn’t time to do it all, or say it all.

So, especially today, I want you to know how much I appreciate all the loving things he does. And how much I admire him for being the kind and giving person he is. Happy Birthday to the perfect husband - the one who shares my obsessions with books and cheesy puns and Led Zeppelin, to the man who makes me feel young again.

If you gain the impression on this blog that Lars-Göran is a gentle, softly spoken Swede who has had his life turned upside down after getting involved with a loud mouthed foreigner for whom he has to keep going around and apologising, then I'd say that's a pretty accurate assessment. How he survives with such good humour is a mystery to me, but I know I'm lucky to have him.

Happy birthday to the best husband, friend, lover and soul mate that I could ever wish for!

I don't normally do posts about political events or current affairs. However, this is something basic that is dear to my heart.

Tomorrow, December 10th is Human Rights Day.

2008 is also a very important milestone as this year marks the 60th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which seeks to uphold and protect the freedom, dignity and equality of all people..




In this season of peace and goodwill, when we think about loved ones and we take the time to be thankful for all that we have, spare a thought for those who do are not as fortunate as we are.

Join Amnesty International's global demonstration in support of human rights or make a pledge. It may not seem like much, but everything we can do might help us to create a world in which every person enjoys all of the human rights enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

Last week we lit the first candle on our Advent wreath. I was brought up in a very strict Catholic household and these customs were very important to us. The first candle is traditionally the candle of expectation or hope, drawing attention to the anticipation of the coming of the the infant Jesus. This week's candle, the second of the Advent period, is the candle of peace, which represents the peace Christ brought into the world.




But here in Sweden, it takes on a whole new meaning as well. What could be more comforting in these dark days of winter up near the Arctic Circle than the ritual of lighting candles each week? The counting down the darkest time of the year (winter solstice) and the anticipation of the welcome return of the light.

Swedish jul (pronounced "yule") is a month-long national festival of lighted candles, savoury feasts and keeping up strong celebratory spirits. We need this to cope with the darkness. But it's not all doom and darkness; it is in fact often a very beautiful time. Tears have come to my eyes as I've seen scenes of magical Christmas-card loveliness: out in the countryside, the tiny wooden Hansel-and-Gretel cottages, frosted with glistening snow; in Stockholm, stately elegant old stone buildings clinging to the hillsides around the icy harbour. And everywhere, the inverted "V"'s of electric candles shining from windows.





It's also at this time of year that Christmas markets spring up around Sweden, signalling the beginning of Advent. This centuries-old tradition reaches back to a time when regular seasonal markets took place throughout the year. Christmas markets were simply an extension of that and provided a welcome event during the cold-weather months. They were joyful occasions for weary villagers and added a bit of light and fun to the long winter nights.

The first markets were little more than winter markets that lasted a couple of days. Instead of the cosy stands that line market alleys of the bigger markets today, the traders in some towns merely laid their goods out in the streets. They tended to specialises on local delicacies and traditional products. Today, in smaller communities, they serve much the same function that they have for centuries — as a festive meeting place for locals as well as a market for homemade Christmas ornaments and decorations. - from nutcrackers, wooden figurines, straw stars, hearts, goats and pigs, to biscuit tins, glass balls, toys, and spices.




So with that in mind, we set off to visit Stjärnholms Slott, the manor house just up the road, which was hosting something they called Julmys på Julibacken. I have to say that mys (pronounced a bit like a cross between "muse" and "moose") is a lovely Swedish word. There is no single English word which covers it adequately, but it means a time of cosy relaxation.

As you can see it was a cold and somewhat bleak day, with most of the recent snows having melted away. But it was so still and crisp that everything reflected in the little pond in the centre of the estate. The main manor house is used as a conference centre these days, but the little Christmas market was spread out over several of the outbuildings. While walking up to the first house, I spotted a very cute little cat door.




Isn't that charming. It is a tiny opening through the foundations and into the cellar area. The sign says that Kalle (a diminutive form of the name of Karl) the cat lives there. Remembering my cat door back in Adelaide, I wondered how many other of Kalle's friends also used this mode of entry to escape the chill.

We wandered through the cottages, looking at the goods for sale. My favourite was a little story book cottage called Julibacken. I tried to talk L-G into photoshopping some snow on the scene so it might look like the picture on their website, but he refused.




We lingered by the door watching the tiny birds feed at a conveniently placed bird feeder. They flitted to and fro, chirping and happily nibbling on the seeds left out for them. But it was bitterly cold, so we went inside to look at the beautifully presented array of Christmas goodies.




There were some lovely goods here - hand crafted decorations, beautiful wrought iron candle holders, little wooden bird houses, pretty paper serviettes with Christmas themes, wreaths, garlands, candles and a small but choice selection of teas, jams, mustards and sweets.




I always make up a basket for my lovely sister-in-law, including tea, traditional sweets and some of my home made biscuits (this year I'm thinking of ginger snaps, saffron biscotti, hazelnut crisps and Florentines - provided I can locate all of the ingredients. Hmmm, glacé cherries???). So today, I found some interesting tea in a pretty container and a cone of saffron sweets to include. I'll have to hide those, or L-G will scoff the lot.




I also bought one of these little birds to put on my Christmas tree. It's a bullfinch - they have very striking plumage and are quite common visitors to our garden at this time of the year. I was really taken with this little bird and he'll brighten up the tree, peeping out from the foliage. And I simply couldn't resist buying the tiniest straw pig I've ever seen. It oinked at me, so what could I do?




Outside, it was still cold, but despite the stark landscape, it was still and beautifully reflected in the pond. This pond had a pretty little garden pavilion in the centre. In Swedish, it is called a lusthus. I can tell you that when I first heard the word and did a literal translation into English in my mind ... let me see ... "lust house", it conjured up a very different image, I can tell you. We both thought that this would look pretty in the spring and summer, so we will be sure to return and walk around some more.





There were paths leading off through a sculpture park, through fields and woods. Some of the trees even looked like they were watching us. Very spooky....




That car looks as though it's been there a while.. LOL!

All very inviting and waiting to be explored on a warmer day.




It's very much a working farm and there are extensive stables attached with many horses, some of whom were being taken through their paces by those in the riding school. I could have lingered and wandered a little more, but Lambi was most insistent that we go home to the warm, cosy apartment and give her some food. Why does she always act like she's starving?

We have a busy week coming up. Today, I'm making marzipan filled saffron buns, using L-G's fabulous technique. Tomorrow it's Tomtenatten, so we'll be in Nyköping, picking up a few bits and pieces and hopefully looking at the market down by the harbour. That depends on the weather as I believe snow-blended rain is forecast.

Then Wednesday it's L-G's birthday (yay!). I must make his favourite frozen cheesecake before then. On Thursday we are off to the city of Eskilstuna (about 100kms away) as they found something dodgy on my latest mammogram, so the specialist at the main county hospital wants to probe a bit further. I'm trying not to think about it. Then Friday, it's time to bake my lussekatter (let's hope we don't have a repeat of last year's mixer disaster) and then Saturday it's Lucia - the Swedish Festival of Light and when Christmas really begins....

These words from my favourite Australian artist Nick Cave's song Are You The One That I've Been Waiting for, are very dear to me today. Eight years ago today, at just after noon, I arrived in Sweden and Lars-Göran and I met for the first time.


As many of you know, we met on-line in mid 2000. We had known each other for months thanks to a shared interest, a bit of serendipity and MSN Messenger. Getting to know someone through instant messages, emails and long nightly telephone conversations is interesting. In a way, it’s better than face to face dating because there’s no movie to watch or dinner to comment on. There’s a forced sense of conversation. You have to keep the talk flowing and in the process you get to know each other faster and on a deeper level in a few phone calls than most people do over a plate of pasta.

We spent weeks racking up the huge phone bills, sending each other surprise notes and sentimental letters. We fell asleep on the phone together, in a bittersweet sort of ritual where fooled ourselves into thinking we were together.

At some point in a long distance/physical strangers relationship, you realise that it’s time to fish or cut bait. There was a certain romantic magic in waiting every night for the phone to ring, a nervous kind of anticipation that made our love for each other somehow urgent and intense. We were ready to make the leap, to see if we could take that intensity and urgency and those deep conversations and carry them over into the flesh.

So we set a date. First week in December, I would travel to Stockholm, Sweden from Adelaide, Australia. We’d meet at Arlanda Airport. We’d find out if what was already an unconventional relationship in more ways than one would work.



As I sit here writing this - listening to both the plaintive voice of Nick Cave and to the December wind whip the branches outside of my window, in much the same way I did eight years ago - I can conjure up every single emotion I felt in the days between planning my trip here and the actual fruition of that trip. The nervousness, the worry, the anxiety, the constant reassurance we gave each other that everything would work out, that we shouldn’t be worried about things like the way our hair looked or the zit that suddenly made a very untimely appearance on my chin. We talked each other down off of absurd ledges, like what if you hate the way I look and you run the other way, or what if there’s no physical attraction, no spark, no fireworks when we kiss for the first time?

Was I worried? Absolutely. After a few years of being depressed and lonely, and after giving up all together on relationships and men in general, I had the proverbial knight in shining armour show up out of the blue. I was happy. Comfortable. Content. In love. Of course, the old self esteem issues showed up and I spent days freaking out, thinking he would find me a hideous beast and completely unlovable, that I would step off the plane, he'd take one look at me and then throw himself under the tracks of the Arlanda Express rather than have to face me.




And then there was the fairy tale dreamer in me that envisioned the whole thing, night after night, laying in bed and playing out the scenario as if I were writing the script for some happily-ever-after-movie. I'd step off the plane, our eyes would lock, I'd drop my bags and he'd hold out his arms and I'd run to him as the airport arrivals hall turns magically into a field of poppies and wildflowers and the wind would be blowing my hair back and he’d be wearing chain mail as his white steed looked on admirably as I fell into his arms.

Ahem. Where was I?


So the day finally came. I watched out the window as countries and oceans went by in a blur, each passing airport bringing me closer to either realising a dream or - and here’s one I didn’t think of until just then - meeting with a serial killer who meets women over the internet, seduces them, chops up their bodies and boils their flesh.




At Arlanda, I hesitated. I just stood there in the middle of the moving throng. I stood there and imagined, for the last time, what was going to happen when I went through customs and to the arrivals hall where I was supposed to meet him. It will be the most romantic moment of your life, I told myself. And I walked.

My plane was on time. He was absurdly early. Then I heard someone say "Excuse me...". That was him, right? In my heightened state of paranoia and anticipation, my brain decided to throw some doubt into the mix to really mess me up. What if that’s someone who just looks an awful lot like him? What if it’s just some random guy waiting for a ride and your guy not only isn’t there, but bailed on you and is back home, watching a movie and contemplating how he’s going to tell you that he just doesn’t feel that way about you?

Whoa. Deep breaths there, Marie. Calm yourself.




He looked up. I knew right away it was him and my first instinct was to just stand there like an idiot and stare at him. Which I did. And his first instinct was to just stand there like an idiot and stare at me. Which he did. I’m not sure what happened next. He insists that I made the first move an practically tackled him to the ground with a bear hug and shoved my tongue down his throat. I think he made that up, because I remember him walking towards me. Either way, it wasn’t quite the romantic moment I thought it would be and frankly, it was kind of awkward. For just a few moments, though. When we regained our composure and he smiled and I smiled and he reached for my hand, I knew. He knew. Yes, we could take that intensity and urgency and those deep conversations and carry them over into the flesh.

We walked outside and the bracing December air made me shiver. He wrapped his coat around me and we stood in the carpark and held each other and smiled and I swear there was no one else in that world but the two of us for that time. Every sound of the city, every person, every building was obliterated and we were the last two people on earth, standing on top of the world and making out like two kids kissing for the first time.



I may often say in jest that my husband Lars-Göran is damn lucky to have me as his wife, but if truth be told it's actually me who is the lucky one. Without his love, support, guidance and strength, I would not be here and there would be no crazy Marie to brighten up your day.

He's being very evasive about later on today. All I know is that I don't need to prepare dinner... very mysterious....

There is no biscuit which says "Christmas in Sweden" more than traditional Pepparkakor, commonly referred to as "ginger thins" in the US or "gingernuts" in the UK. Pepparkakor (literally pepper cookies) are an integral part of the Christmas eve feast in Sweden and are also used to decorate our Christmas tree. While you will usually see them in the traditional shape of a heart, the pig and Christmas goat shapes are also very popular. What? You don't know about the Christmas goat?

These biscuits sell here in their millions, with Annas being the most popular brand. Pepparkakor are so popular that they even sell ready made dough in the supermarket chilled section that you simply roll out and cut into shape. In fact, when I suggested making my own peppakakor, L-G thought I meant buying the dough. He was most surprised when I said I wanted to make them from scratch.

There are as many variations on this recipe as there are cooks in Sweden, so I decided to go with one printed in the national daily newspaper, DN. (Swedish only, but I'll translate the tweaked recipe below).

I began by assembling all of the ingredients together - always wise before you start. Note that the white poodle in the basket is optional :-)




Swedish Pepparkakor

250 g margarine or butter
1½ cups sugar
3/4 cup light syrup (golden syrup is fine)
3/4 cup water
2 dessert spoons ground cinnamon
1 dessert spoon ground cardomom
1 dessert spoon ground cloves
½ dessert spoon ground ginger
½ dessert spoon dried crushed bitter orange peel (optional)
1 dessert spoon bicarb soda
6 cups plain flour




I use the term "dessert spoon" as Swedish tablespoons are smaller than those we use in Australia. The recipe in DN specifically said no ginger, but there was no way I was making gingerbread with no ginger! The very idea! And I did not use the dried bitter orange as L-G doesn't like orange in cakes or biscuits. I used normal baking margarine, but by all means use butter.


To make up the biscuit dough, measure out the sugar, syrup and water into a saucepan. Bring it to a rapid boil, stirring well and remove from heat.

Slice up your margarine (or butter) into cubes and put them in a large mixing bowl along with all of the spices. Pour over the boiling sugar mixture and wait until all of the margarine melts, stirring now and again. Let the mixture cool to roughly room temperature.

Meanwhile, blend the flour with the bicarb soda. When mixture has cooled, blend the flour a cup at a time into the spicy fat/sugar mixture. Blend well into a rather loose dough. Don't panic and be tempted to add more flour. The mixture hardens over time.

Now, leave the dough to rest for a day or two. You can either cover your bowl and leave it on the bench, or wrap in plastic and put it in the fridge. Over time, the flour swells as it absorbs the moisture and the dough becomes easy to roll.

To bake the biscuits:

Preheat your oven to 190° C (400° F)

Divide the dough into 6 pieces and roll out a piece at a time. It's always easier to work with smaller pieces. Knead each piece and roll out onto a lightly floured board. The dough ought to be around 1/8 inch thick. Don't apply a lot of pressure to the dough, but use light, smooth rolling and keep the board well floured. You may need to keep lightly flouring your rolling pin as you go.




Cut out the figures with your cutters and use an egg slice to transfer them to your baking tray (lined with baking paper). Bake in the oven between 4-6 minutes or until browned. Watch them carefully as they unfortunately burn very quickly.




Leave to cool on the paper. When cool, remove and store in an airtight container. This recipe makes about 10 dozen or so biscuits, depending on the size of your cutters. I used the ones you see here - angel, pig, cat, goat and polar bear. But I've added this set to my Christmas wish list (are you reading this, Santa?), so next year hopefully the family can munch on Aussie shaped gingerbread! Wouldn't that be something?





I can tell you that when the hot sugary mixture hit the butter and spices, the beautiful heady, spicy aroma immediately transported me back to my childhood kitchen where I watched my mother and grandmother prepare the boiled fruit cakes and plum puddings for Christmas. It was a kitchen surrounded by warmth, love and the wonderful generosity of my gran, who always had time and a word of encouragement for me. It's amazing how powerful an image smell can conjure up.

Now, Swedish custom says that you should place a pepparkakor in the palm of your hand. Then, you should make a wish. Using the index finger of your free hand, tap the biscuit in the middle. Swedish tradition states that if the pepparkakor breaks into three pieces, your wish will come true.

If, however, the pepparkakor does not break into three pieces, don't despair, you'll just have to enjoy eating the biscuit in smaller pieces.

Yesterday we spent the day up in Stockholm, taking care of errands and also visiting a Christmas market at one of the castles. It was quite a tiring day, not helped by the miserable weather, with wind and torrential rain, but even so we didn't let it dampen our spirits. Despite the chill, the long drive there and back and the darkness, we had a really nice day.

We began with taking Lambi to the vet for her booster shot for rabies. We intend to travel to Finland next summer, so she must be up to date with all of her shots and these must be on her pet passport. As you can imagine she was thrilled (NOT!) to be back at the vet, but fortunately they were very quick today and we were in and out in less than 10 minutes. Now we wait 120 days, when they need to take a blood test to check she has enough antibodies. What a lot of palaver for an animal which is most likely going to never leave my lap, but we must get it done.

Her vet is in the northern part of town, so it was a quick trip from there to Märsta for a quick shop at Eurostop and then on to the castle of Steninge, nestled on the shores of Lake Mälaren.




This is the castle itself - a Baroque palace surrounded by formal gardens built in 1705 by the nobleman Carl Gyllenstierna and Queen Hedvig Eleonora. It was designed by the royal architect Tessin the Younger (who designed several palaces and churches around Sweden). It was getting dark by the time we arrived after lunch (the darkness falls very early so far north at this time of the year), but we could see that unlike the market we visited last year at Vadstena Castle, this was not held in the castle itself, but in the a historic stone stables across the park.




You can see over the entrance that the stables were built in 1873. They had lovely fresh Christmas wreaths on either side of the door to welcome us there and we hurried across from the car park to get out of the freezing rain. I was quite glad to see that the big coach loads of people were preparing to leave, which meant that it was quiet and not too crowded inside. On a day like today, I really appreciate that this is an indoor market. I love to wander the outdoor markets in the snow, but not the in the rain and mud.

There were two levels in the building and while we waited for the bulk of the bus trip people to leave, we wandered around the ground floor area which is touted as an outlet or factory sale. They make their own candles here and I took a look at their candle making technique as well as the finished products.




I also wandered around looking at some of the so-called outlet goods. In Australia, we are very familiar with factory direct selling. One can usually buy the goods from the maker at a much reduced price as you cut out the extra costs to transport the goods, the wholesaler's and the retailer's profit. Many of us Adelaidians can recall outings to the Barossa Valley or McLaren Vale for the wonderful cellar door sales of wine or perhaps a drive through the Adelaide Hills, stopping to buy wooden toys at Gumeracha, apple cider at Lobethal, chocolates from Melba's at Woodside, cheese from Strathalbyn, jams, pickles, chutneys or mustards freom Beerenburg's at Hahndorf or luscious cherries from Stella Creek.




But this idea of true factory door sales seem to have escaped the Swedes. I've been to several makers of sweets, chocolates, pottery, pickles, wooden products and found that the goods were more expensive bought at the door than the same product on sale in a normal retail outlet. I'm not sure how this works. I told L-G why I thought it ought to be cheaper, but he thinks that the big retailers probably negotiate a cheaper price from the manufacturer. It's only us poor consumers who get to pay the dear price.




So I looked at the lovely glassware (more expensive than the identical glasses I looked at last week in Cervera), place mats also more expensive than what I had recently paid for them. So, I just browsed and looked at the vast array of jams, honeys, mustards and debated about buying some tistron (blackcurrant) jam or maybe the much loved hjorton (cloudberry) jam but at 70kr for a tiny 113g jar, it was a bit expensive.




There was also some rather intriguing pink honey which I was curious about, but again it was quite expensive and i really can't justify spending that amount of money on two or three tablespoons of honey. I did find the cutest lamb stool for a tiny child. Or maybe a footstool for me. I begged and begged, but when I was forced to admit that it cost a whopping 800kr, L-G made me put it back. I tell you, he's a hard man....




It reminds me of last year when I found this cute Christmas wreath at Borensberg - isn't it the best?




But he had to point out the rather inconvenient fact that we already had a wreath, newly purchased by yours truly only the week before. And he didn't think much of my brilliant idea to build a second front door to accommodate the new wreath, calling it frivolous. Oh well....

Having looked around enough, we made our way upstairs to the beautiful display of Christmas goodies. There was everything here you could possibly desire in the way of decorations, gifts, home furnishings, food and drink to make a memorable Swedish Christmas... Oh where to begin?




As dusk fell outside, we admired the table settings, looked at an interesting red and white ceramic glögg serving set that we were tempted to buy, but decided against it in the end and will continue to use our copper set. The crowd had thinned and in places we felt quite alone, looking at whatever we wanted at our leisure. Beautiful and low key Christmas carols were playing in the background, everything was stylishly displayed in colour themes for every taste and there were no high pressure sales people.




I spent a long time looking at the stuffed toys, selecting a cute little green frog and blanket for a friend's young son (his mum loves green!) and one of these charming teddies (pictured below) for L-G's grandson. I have been looking in vain for a nice teddy for him, but until now, everything looked a bit tacky. These were lovely, soft, warm and cuddly - just like little Viggo. So I will wrap it up to put under the tree for Christmas.




I also found some very cute Christmas stockings. I've always loved Christmas stockings and my own children had beautiful hand made ones with their names lovingly embroidered on them. The ones here were so colourful and such fun, decorated with adorable little felt mice climbing up the sides. I wanted to buy one for the baby, but then decided that perhaps the parents might like to choose something they liked themselves. I tried to see if we should perhaps buy one for Lambi, but I gathered that was not going to happen, so the stocking went back with the others.




Across the way, I saw some lovely little Christmas cats, jolly tomte figures, candle holders, cards and a whole display of stuffed ginger bread men that I coveted but dared not mention. All of it was beautifully crafted and everything glowed. If you're tired of the idea of commercialism taking over this holiday period and would like to get back to the idea of a real traditional Christmas you can't beat something like this. The gifts are not mass-produced but rather craftwork of real quality with ceramics, baskets, straw craft, ornaments, glassware, woodwork, wrought-iron goods, silver jewellery and various textile products.




Along the other half of the upper story were the food stalls, with a plethora of tasty Christmas presents, jewellery, angels, Christmas trees and a large selection of Christmas decorations. My favourite was the cheese stall (no surprise there) where you could taste before you decided which cheese to buy for Christmas or perhaps to give away. Another stall which caught my eye sold really unusual door wreaths made from nuts and natural products. They were beautifully made and one can imagine the time and energy that went into each of them. Yes, I know, I know, we already HAVE a wreath....




There was a another stall selling glögg with free tastings, a stall with different sausages, another with baked goods, beestings puddings, chutneys, hazelnut pesto, biscotti, different types marmalade, hand made chocolates and all around us was plenty of Christmas spirit and the air fragrant with the smell of mulled wine, spruce and sugared almonds.




There was also a gingerbread house competition where you could vote for your favourite house. We chose this one and each put in a vote.




While it may not look as dolled up as others you may have seen, but this was made by a group of very young children and I think they did a fabulous job. It is based on the book you see pictured to the left, called Hatt-Stugan (the Hat Cottage) and is a Swedish classic children's story, written by Elsa Beskow in the 1930s. It tells the story of three children who live with their mum in a hat - a bit reminiscent of the English tale of the woman who lived in a shoe. It's a charming story and one that L-G, who recognised what it was immediately, remembers fondly from his childhood and I think you'll agree the children have done an excellent job with the hat.

We then made our way downstairs to the glass blowing workshop. Apparently you can book a time with these guys and they will help you create your own design and make it yourself. But putting me and fire together is a prelude to disaster, we thought it was safer to watch the process from a safe distance.




We watched the glass blower remove the molten glass from the furnace. Then he hurried over to his work space. And I do mean hurry!




He then began to shape the piece he wanted to make. I was guessing that it might be a vase, based on the mold he was using to swivel the red hot mass in.




Once he was satisfied with it, he stood and began inflating the molten glass into a bubble, or parison, with the aid of a long blowpipe.




At this stage, it just looks like some kind of misshapen pink blobby thing. I was still guessing it would be a vase of some kind. He then took a thick cloth and began to shape the glass by twirling the pipe with one hand and keeping the blob cupped in his other hand.




Once happy with the general shape, he sat down and took up some shaping tongs and began to create a narrower neck, all the time keeping the glass rotating.




As it cooled, the glass began to change colour to a pretty milky white with a blue swirly pattern. Another glassmaker came over with a hot rod and positioned it carefully on the base of the piece.




Then with a skilled and accurate blow, the piece was snapped from the neck area, with the second glassmaker keeping it moving round and around.




For us it was quite fascinating to watch, but for them, it was another day at the office as they casually chatted about the latest computer games while we watched the miracle going on in front of us. Then it was time to add the handle to what I could now see was a glass water jug.




More molten glass was added by the second glassmaker and when the first man deemed there was enough, he clipped the stream off with huge scissors.




Now all that was left to do was to shape the rapidly cooling glass into a suitable handle, which he did with remarkable speed and dexterity.




After that display, I was sure there was no way I could even begin to contemplate making a Marie original. I have nightmares just thinking of what it would look like. Nothing at all like the dizzying array of their glassware on sale in every shape and imaginable colour.




Bu now, it was 4pm, pitch black outside and still raining cats and dogs, so we dashed across to the car and began our journey homewards. I can tell you that I was very glad I had a prepared meal waiting for us at home, so it was only a ten minutes after walking in the door that we could sit down and eat. What a day!

Tomorrow I thought I'd start baking the Christmas gingerbread. I usually make the recipe from the Australian Womens Weekly Beautiful Biscuits (slightly adjusted, because I can never resist tweaking recipes). But I'm also going to bake Swedish style ginger bread this year, which have different spices in them, plus the dough must rest for at least 24 hours before using it. Should be interesting... Nothing smells more like Christmas than baking gingerbread.

It’s definitely starting to feel like Christmas! It’s not only cold but yesterday the Christmas Market season started, which always makes me silly and excited. I really enjoy the atmosphere of the Swedish julmarknad, crowded with people all milling about, looking, shopping and sampling the food and mulled wine. Many towns and villages have beautiful outdoor markets at this time of the year, with some of the castles also playing host to large, well attended markets. I especially love the markets held at night, but I've only seen that once in Kungsträdgården in central Stockholm. I hope to get to Gothenburg one year to see Liseberg at Christmas.

So yesterday we set off after our breakfast in the best of Advent moods to Nyköping to see the small market in the main square and to look at the shop front windows. There is a larger market at the harbour, but we thought we'd leave it for a weekday when the kids are at school.

I was initially dismayed by the first few stalls, which consisted of a few vendors, who frankly sold a lot of crap - mostly cheap, nasty merchandise made in China. But I was pleased that they were only on the fringes, soon the real stalls began.




This thing I am holding in my hand is a furry cover for your bike seat. What do you reckon, Justine? Make a nice "surprise" gift for the Scotsman? I was sorely tempted to get one for him and L-G just to see their faces when they opened their present, but decided that I didn't fancy living quite so dangerously.




We were quite early this year, something of a surprise for us as we are usually so slow to get going in the mornings, so the market was not too crowded as I wandered about. I did miss the snow, though, which has disappeared for now. I stopped and looked at the pretty fresh Christmas wreaths, handcrafted and beautifully decorated with the finest fresh fir, cedar, pine and blue berried juniper. I, of course want them all! But we have a wreath already, so I was just browsing.




Then I spotted a stall selling fresh plants (mostly poinsettia and amaryllis) and would you believe, a whole stand of straw pigs!!! I ran there and tried to convince L-G that they all needed to come home with us, but he gave me the narrow eyed Grinch look, so I was allowed to choose ONE medium sized pig to keep my straw goat company, plus a small pig which will be winging its way to Oregon next week to Heidi's home.




They had some fresh pine table centres which were beautiful as well, lots of lovely figures made of moss and fresh conifer boughs. I found a topiary dog, but at 300kr was not allowed to buy it. I thought it might look jolly on our balcony table or perhaps keep Lambi company, but no, so I left it with its other friends.




Aren't those penguins made of moss great? Don't I need them badly? See, I knew you would all understand, but not every member of the family was in agreement that this was a "necessary" purchase. So again, I had to leave them very reluctantly behind. I really ought to go to these things alone, I think.




The other stall that interested me was one with wrought iron candle holders. There was one lovely one - round, twirly wire made into a ball and a space in the middle for a tea light candle. But I really have nowhere to put it, so I didn't get it. Still, I love to look at these candle holders.

It's hard to convey to those who live in bright, sunny countries just how much we crave light up here in the dark north of the world. When you have so few hours of daylight as we have at this time of the year, we try and make warm pools of light in our homes, using candles in a variety of holders. It creates a warmth, a light and a welcome feeling when you step in from the bitter cold and darkness. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times candles appeared on my shopping list in Adelaide. But here in Sweden during the winter months, it's a permanent fixture.




Milling about in the square, creating a splash of welcome colour on a dull day and occasionally breaking into song were the young students from the local theatre school dressed in costume to promote their upcoming performance of the perennial Christmas favourite - The Nutcracker.




Every now and again, a tinkling bell warned us that a pony and cart were coming through, with a load of beaming children just delighted to be drawn around. The smiles on the children's faces were a joy to see and in a cynical age shows that there still remains the magic of childhood.




The Salvos were there with their band, playing a lovely selection of very traditional Christmas carols, which was perfect in this setting. t was neither intrusive nor corny and I found myself humming to my favourite carol (Hark the Herald Angels Sing) with a tear in my eye.

For me, the best thing about the Christmas market was the overall festive mood. The weather was crisp and cold, but you didn't really notice it, because you warm yourself with cups of hot glögg, the spiced red wine that is synonymous with Swedish Christmas markets.




With the exception of some really nice wrought iron work, glass blown ornaments and decorations made out of straw, most of the merchandise here is the same as you can buy in any Christmas shop. But I don't just go to shop, I also like to eat, drink, talk with locals, and look at the Christmas displays in the shop fronts.




Most of the shops have gone very minimalist this year, which was somewhat of a surprise, but we did find a few shops with pretty, old fashioned displays. The over-the-top bling factor that one sees in some countries is not popular here - no garish flashing coloured lights and dancing Santas. It's as though at Christmas, Swedes like to return to a simpler time. I find it all quite restful and charming.




The windows we've pictured here as well as this garden area is part of a lovely shop and café in the middle of town called Hellmanska Gården. This glorious building dates from 1720 and was one of the first buildings to be erected after the Russians burned down the entire town the year before. Since that time it has been a spice emporium and these days there is a literal Aladdin's cave of a shop bursting with home furnishing ideas, a smaller food shop and a café with the best looking sandwiches and cakes I've seen.




The back entrance was guarded by these little trolls on hay bales under a Christmas tree and it looked so inviting and cheerful that you were drawn in immediately. I love browsing in shops like this, full of beautiful and practical things for the home. I spied a couple of baskets that I'd like for my hallway, but as we had the dog with us, we could not really go into either the shop or the café. But we've marked it down as one we must see - perhaps next week on Tomtenatten, when the shops will be open late.




There were sections set up with colour schemes to suit every taste, festooned with little touches to make Christmas a cheerful time. Swedes really go in for the full window treatments in their homes, with many people having special Christmas curtains, special pots and ornaments to complement their advent lights.




L-G was never really into the whole Christmas decorating thing when I first arrived. This nearly killed me, because decorating for Christmas is one of my favourite things! Over the years, I think my enthusiasm has become infectious and lately he has even admitted that he's learned to love setting it all up, just because I love it so much. See, he's a real softy and not at all the meanie I sometimes make him out to be.




By this time, we had been walking around for nearly three hours and my feet were tired. As Lambi was with us (in the backpack of course - she doesn't do crowds very well on foot) we couldn't pop in to a café to rest our weary legs and grab a bite to eat. And it was hardly the weather to sit outside, so we made our way back to the car.

We were a little disappointed that the street lights, made up of garlands of lovely stars strung across the road were not lit. It was a perfect day to really light up the place, but no doubt in this land of bureaucracy gone mad, it would have involved weeks of delicate negotiations and a mountain of paperwork to allow that to happen.




In a country without Thanksgiving, the Christmas season is clearly defined by the beginning of Advent. And as a country steeped in tradition, those times surrounding the holiday are among its best. I've heard it said by expats here that these markets are a bit too commercialised and even tacky by some standards. But I have to say that there's something special about being part of an event that has been going on for hundreds of years. And, after all, it's Christmas, and there's no better way to get in the spirit than to visit a Christmas market!