Swedish Things People Like

When it rains, it pours...

2011-07-24T01:44:00.000-07:00

Literarily, yes. But that is Australia in a nutshell, isn’t it. The weather here doesn’t do anything half-hearted. When it’s hot, it’s hot, 40 plus, you feel like a piece of bacon, sizzling away. When it’s dry, it’s dry, the ground full of cracks, Spinifex on the horizon, water restrictions and dead cattle. When it storms, it storms, roofs flying off right, left and centre, cars in the trees and waves the size of 12 storey buildings. And when it rains it pours. None of that Swedish drizzle I used to grow up with. The one where you weren’t sure if it was wet fog or light drizzle.

But when the rain gets cracking in Oz, the weather makes sure we know about it. Did I say 72 hours straight? Well, yes, that was just the warm-up, I’ve since lost count. Everything gets waterlogged, the garden, the car, the house, the shoes, the kids and the cat. Rows and rows of weeping double brick houses that just can’t deflect any more moisture. Let it rise, let it come down from above, damp walls have never been so damp. In this water world, I keep thinking Tretorn. And why I didn’t get any on my last visit to Sweden. For the non-informed, Tretorn is the most reliable gumboots manufacturers in Swedish gumboot history. This is the gumboot for the real weather people, none of the fashion statement Kate-Moss-on-her-way-to-a-rock-festival-kind-of-over-rated-type of gumboot. Tretorn is like the Volvo of gumboots, perhaps not fighting for a spot on the catwalk, but delivers on the promise of dry feet and a comfort.

The gumboot is a bit like travel insurance, you feel slightly annoyed that you keep paying the premium and never ending up needing it. The gumboots fall in the same category. 99% of the time those boots will stand there in the wardrobe looking at you, all shiny and unused. You feel it was a bit indulgent to buy them, waste of money and all that. But then comes that golden moment when the skies open up and let the torrents of water flood our streets. Those boots then get a chance to shine, in more than one way. They keep you dry, they keep you protected and they will continue to do so wear after wear. And you thank your lucky star that you wisely invested in a pair of gumboots.

Control Your Climate

2011-07-14T20:55:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of ‘don’t ask what the climate can do for you, but what you can do for the climate’, Swedish interior designer Anna-Carin McNamara will guest blog on how to control your climate, stay warm/cool and have a fatter wallet to show for it. Please enjoy some climate words of wisdom....

“You should be used to the cold – you are Swedish!” is something I get told very often. The fact is I have never felt or been colder than here in Australia.
Creating a comfortable indoor climate, something Swedes are quite spoilt with, seems for some reason an unsurmountable task for Australians. Delusional believes that we live in a tropical climate and a “That’ll do” attitude is drying out our skins and our wallets without us even being aware it could be so different.

I know it comes down to dollars and “cheap and quick” is the mantra. To spend money on heating and cooling for the lifetime in a draughty house is conveniently neglected when the renovation budget is tight. Not sure about you but I think we use our heaters from April to October – 7 months out of 12! Still, heating and insulation are neglected and cooling is always prioritised.

If Australians were to adopt some of the Swedish ways of construction, not only would we leave the cold out in winter but also prevent the heat from coming in during the summer.

So what would it take to build the Swedish way?

Insulated walls and floor - lesson number one in building technology in my Swedish college was to calculate the time it takes for heat to travel from one side of wall to the other thereby classifying - depending on where you live -the type of wall you need to build to maintain a perfect (20-22 C) indoor climate. And I can reveal it was never just double brick.

Windows - Double-glazing or at least a “no gap” frame.

Controlled ventilation – no, the beach towel in the gap between the windows does not qualify.

Heating - hydronic (ie water) carried heating in either radiators strategically placed or as underfloor heating.

Voila! The perfect base for a pleasant room climate, to be enjoyed without your fleece and woollen beanie.

Colours/lighting/ furniture are rendered useless if you have to spend your time rubbing hands for heat or hover around the heater in the corner…. If you are like me generally by bedtime- finally – an acceptable temperature have been achieved and then the next morning it all starts again with slippers and mittens…

So go for it, take control of your indoor climate and you’d be surprised how much more pleasant life will become, summer and winter. And your wallet will also be happier in the long run.

Image courtesy of belowtheclouds.com

The only Hives you want to get

2011-06-25T00:39:00.000-07:00

What is it with Sweden and popular music? There is so much going on and so much happening that it’s spilling out left right and centre. Not only does aussie talent like Sarah Blasko choose to go to Stockholm to record albums, just to work with some of the best producers around. Swedish musicians are going places, all over the place. Even to Australia, en masse!

In the last couple of years we’ve had the chance to see some great Swedish bands, like:

Junip, featuring the super-talented Jose Gonzalez, who not only can strum that guitar and sing in tune, he’s pretty easy on the eye and we would all love to have his babies.

Shout Out Louds, Swedish pop perfect, channelling a bit of the Cure mixed with lighthearted easy listening, but with charm and appeal. The buttered popcorn of pop tunes.

Wildbirds and Peacedrums, husband and wife duo with a highly unique sound. Music that keeps on giving, play it again, and again.

Lykke Li, with a name like that, there must be a future. Lykke Li has been the darling of Australian music radio for a while, her latest album even being Album of the Week at fbi radio earlier this year.

And last but not least, the Hives! Never have white shoes looked so funky, and there is something about a drummer in a suit. Very civilised. Coming to our shores in July to let the groove loose at Splendor in the Grass and at the Horden Pavilion, so get there if you can.

The Chook, The Witch, her Jesus and his Bunny

2011-04-20T18:37:00.001-07:00

Easter in Sweden, as well as in many other corners of the world, can only be described as another split personality kind of tradition where the Christian reflection on Jesus’ crucifixion is seamlessly mixed with devouring copious amounts of chocolate washed down with eggs in any shape or form. Throw in a witch, a broom, a bonfire and a handful of colourful feathers in the equation and you have some serious explanation to do to the younger generation. All in the name of tradition. And as I stand in the supermarket queue behind a mountain of chocolate, sudden philosophical questions arise and I quietly ponder to myself....what came first, the chicken or the Jesus?

Well, let me tell you good people, they are actually part of the same story. The egg is an early Christian symbol for the resurrection of Christ. The Christian tradition has been to decorate and eat eggs at Easter, all in the name of Jesus. The chicken came into the equation as an extension of the egg. The egg hatches and out comes a chicken! Could the conclusion then be that Christians think Jesus is a chicken?

While I’m on this egg roll, have a look at these eggcups above, will you.
Sometimes you just have to extend the circle of love and include neighbouring designers such as Danish Pernille Vea who created these happy, spirit-lifting eggcups for Menu.

But returning to how chocolate manufacturers have kind of hijacked the Easter egg from the Christian tradition, I urge the empire to strike back. Cadbury and gang, watch out, I have a sneaky feeling that next year there might be competition in the chocolate department, as we will see some delicious chocolate crucifixes bumping those little bunnies from the shelves. It is the Easter spirit after all.

Semla, the Creamy Story of the Perfect Bun

2011-03-22T18:33:00.000-07:00

There are so many wonderful reasons to love Sweden and all things Swedish. But I feel that if you want to capture in a nutshell WHY you should indulge in a bit of amore Suecia it has to be in the little tradition we call fettisdagen and semla.
How many countries do you know that urges you to stuff yourself full of yummy cream buns, all in the name of tradition? And basically as often and as much as you want around this period in time?

The official fettisdagen (Fat Tuesday) is calculated according to ol’ Christian calendar tradition and this bun-eating extravaganza takes place the day before the start of a particular fast, which falls in February or March. In true hedonistic self-indulgent style, we dropped the tedious idea of the fast but kept up with the devouring of delicious cream buns. How appropriate!
So at this time of the year in Sweden there will be whipped cream-filled buns tempting you at every bakery, cafe and home. Many people bake their own, invite some friends and family for a bun-fest in the afternoon. Then the very next day you just roll into a bakery and pick another one to go with your coffee. ‘Tis the time, no questions asked, no guilt being placed upon your bun-munching self. There is no holding back, the nation is urging you, ‘keep eating these buns, you are part of living tradition’!

I have found an outlet in Sydney for my semla crave, Cafe Svensson makes some fantastic ones! But most of the time I happily bake them at home to wild delight of la familia. It’s an annual winner that put you in the good baking books for months, perhaps even years.

Here’s how you whip some up yourself.

Ingredients:
To make a dozen Swedish semlor, you will need:
• 25g of fresh yeast (or dry yeast if you can’t find fresh)
• 75g of margarine or butter
• 200ml of milk
• 2 eggs
• 1 teaspoon of salt
• Half a teaspoon of cardamom
• 500ml of sugar
• 700ml of plain flour
• 2 teaspoons of baking powder
For the filling and topping, you will also need:
• Roughly grated almond paste
• Whipping cream
• Milk
• Icing sugar
How to make a semla:
• First, melt the butter or margarine in a saucepan, add the milk and heat until lukewarm.
• Crumble the yeast into a bowl, and add some of the liquid to dissolve the yeast. If you use dry yeast, follow instructions on the back of package.
• Add the remaining liquid, plus the salt, cardamom, 1 egg, sugar and 600ml of the flour.
• Work the mixture together into a dough.
• Cover with a cloth and leave the dough to rise for around 30 minutes.
• Mix together and work into a dough, a kitchen-machine makes this easy.
• Mix together the baking powder and remaining flour and work into the dough. Knead the dough until it becomes smooth.
• Separate dough into maximum 12 round balls.
• Lightly grease some baking sheets, put the buns onto the sheets and allow them to rise for 35-40 minutes.
• Beat the other egg and use a brush to glaze the tops of the buns.
• Heat the oven to 250 degrees C and bake the semlor in the middle for 10 minutes.
• Cover the buns with a cloth and allow to cool on a wire rack.
• Before eating your semlor:
• Cut a circular “lid” off the top of each bun. Use a spoon to scoop out the inside of the bun.
• Mix together the grated almond paste with the inside of the bun, add milk to make a smooth mixture and use this mixture to fill the hole.
• Whip the cream and spoon the cream on top of the bun filling.
Replace the lid of the bun and decorate with icing sugar.

Recipe courtesy of communityofsweden.com

Aim for the Stars and Land in the Tropfest

2011-03-15T22:45:00.000-07:00

Swedes are not the only ones to have an affectionate relationship with Sweden and recognise a certain amusing aspect of homo swedus. Local Sydney filmmakers have caught the Nordic vibe and created a little black and white short film all about the quirky Swede. Check out this Tropfest finalist called Den Sista Galaxonaut, directed by Alexander George and Tyrone Lindqvist. This film follows an extremely competent and successful guy called Sven Larsson who was the first man on the moon (at least according to George and Lindqvist). Though not a winner of 2011 Tropfest, it is definitely the winner in my books. Any guy called Sven is a winner, simple as that.

Illustrated Fashion

2011-02-18T22:48:00.000-08:00

People love fashion, people love art. Sometimes the two come together and make a perfect match. Such a happy marriage is just what funkis fashion in Australia has entered with Swedish Artist Stina Wirsen. Since graduating from Konstfack, the College of the Arts in Stockholm, in the early 90’s, Wirsen has created an interesting body of work, all ranging from stamp-designs for the Swedish Post Office, illustrating for a broad range of Swedish companies, to portraits and fashion illustrations. Wirsen now spreads her art over the boarders of Sweden and creates fashion with Funkis downunder. Check out the stylish t-shirt available through Funkis in store and on-line. Hopefully there will be more illustrated threads coming our way in Australia.

Be Cool Back at School

2011-02-02T02:38:00.000-08:00

The school year has kicked off and there are few things more exciting than getting some new stationary to bring to school. Or if you don’t go to school, still get some new stationary just to get into the swing of things from outside the school grounds. Nothing wrong with being a student in spirit only just to be able to update the stationary stash!
Forget all the freebies you got from various sports groups, banks, insurance companies, hairdressers, politicians, dog walkers, nursing homes, fast food outlets and the likes. The logos tend to be ugly and the quality is normally rubbish. Have you ever tried to sharpen a freebie pencil? You can hang over that dustbin until you get led poisoning and dislocated discs trying to sharpen the crumbling resemblance of a pencil. And just when you put your finger on the tip to check the strength, it will break off. Again. In one word, infuriating. And you always have that sneaky feeling that some endangered rainforest has been biting the dust in the process... So take control of your stationary look this season. Head to Kikki K and make use of some of that back to school rebate the government is offering to Australian families. Who is eligible? Who knows, but worry about that later. Stock up on pens, pencils, paper, notebooks, calendar, friend book and all the other essentials for a successful and stationary rich 2011. With good well-designed stationary à la Kikki K, at least you’re off to a stylish start, ready to tackle the new year ahead.

No Age for Road Rage

2011-01-16T22:59:00.000-08:00

The year has already clawed its way to the third week of January, a side glance and weeks are lost in that black hole called life. New year came and went with no resolutions on the horizon. Except for the reoccurring one; a resolution to have no resolutions. Still, there was one family friend who repeated a resolution that has been a standard one for him and his wife, the resolution not to have any road rage. What a healthy resolution, in my opinion. If you can remain Zen about your time on the road, life will feel so much easier. See yourself as a fellow traffic producer, who clogs up the road space as much as everyone else. Then see yourself as part of the solution, not just the problem. You can be part of both on this account. Give people the benefit of the doubt that they might have a broken indicator, don’t know the road rules, rushing to get that international flight ready for take off, visiting a dying relative in hospital, just lost their job, their girlfriend or the plot. Or in a worse case scenario, all of the above, in which case, really stay out of the way.

The solution is to feel smug about your superior road knowledge and behaviour, shake your head condescendingly, and say to yourself (very important, don’t shout out the car window or mouth any obvious nastiness) “look at these clowns, aren’t they just a funny bunch of amateur drivers, where on earth did they learn to drive”. Just let the whole thing wash over you, water off a duck’s back. Because it’s actually proven, anger doesn’t get you there any faster. It just gets you there angry. And who wants to feel angry.

So next time and the time after that and after that and after that, when you feel the urge to start abusing drivers around you, take a deep breath and just DON’T do it. Turn up the radio, play some good music, listen to an audio book or just have some time to reflect. It’s not going to cost you much, if anything. If you have to be on the road, why make it more unpleasant than it needs to be. Energy comes in limited supply; so don’t waste it on something as pointless as road rage. Open your arms and say to all around you; “welcome to the age of no road rage”.

When the going gets tough, Christmas keep coming

2010-12-12T18:33:00.000-08:00

Here we are again, Christmas around the corner, faces in brown bags hyperventilating while trying to figure out how they will have time to fit it all in BEFORE that special time called Christmas. Breath in, breath out, it will all be fine.

The answer is, just make a little list, not the wish-list sort of list, but a tick-the-boxes-kind-of-list. I love them; they work so well for me, very satisfying, even if you don’t get past one tick. Still, one tick is one tick off a list…

So, when we stare down Christmas in the white eye, feeling like a bunch of lemmings charging for the edge with no chance to swerve that final drop off the cliff towards certain Christmas impact, my advice is, embrace it!

Back to the list, write down the five most important things about Christmas that is absolutely imperative to the whole idea of Christmas.
My guess is that presents might be on that list. That’s fine; I’m not judging anyone.
Just remember, online shopping as a wonderful thing, go out there and go crazy. Why not spend your dollars at a place where your gift keeps on giving. Head to Oxfam, great gifts, great organisation.
When it comes to presents, and when children are involved, it is easy to overcompensate. Start making a little list (another one!) in your head and figure out who else except you will give that child another item that will gather dust in the near future. All of a sudden you have a whole chain mail, a pyramid scheme in your head! You really don’t have to buy more than two. It’s true, and the chances are your child will end up with 40 gifts regardless.

For everyone else above the age of 18, buy tickets to a show and make an outing of it, together! And if you really can’t stand each other that much, buy tickets to separate shows and avoid any further family feather ruffling. Hot tips, Sydney Festival, theatre or concerts. We all love them.

Socialising, family and food will probably also be on that list. At least I hope so. Family, do what you need to do and don’t whinge about it. Once a year, it can’t be that bad (surely?!). If it is, don’t bother, make changes that works for you, as well as the consequences of those changes. Friends, remember, the world as we know it won’t stop after the 25th, there is always time to catch up after Christmas. Food, very important. As the years goes by, my Christmas foods get more and more creative, and sometimes have absolutely no relevance to Christmas at all, if I remember right, Christmas Eve dinner last year was lamb roast and potato gratin with sparklers in a rice pudding. But guess what, it was a great night, lots of laughter and dancing and happy children, and there was no pressure to judge if I had got it right, because I was so wrong. So for this year, I’ve got open slate for what to dish up on that smorgasbord. It might be a tad more traditional, I feel. But as my husband fondly says, festive Swedish food is almost all the same; it’s potato, fish and meatballs, in different creative variations.

My top 5 list goes as follows:
1. Presents
2. Christmas tree
3. Lussebullar
4. Christmas food to some extent (think, ham, or herring, or salmon in some constellation together with other foods)
5. Family and friends – the number one out of the five

Wishing all and everyone a Merry and Happy Christmas, and just remember, there is more than one way that’s the right way,
just do it your way!

It’s in the Bag

2010-10-07T00:32:00.000-07:00

Having spent the last three months traveling and packing/unpacking, squeezing, throwing out, smuggling extra weight into the unsuspecting children’s bags, walking onboard with two pairs of pants, jumper, jacket and scarves just to relieve the bags of some weighty overweight, I feel that bags have been given too much space in my current traveling situation. I keep on fantasising about the trip I’ll make with nothing more than a passport, credit card, a book and a notebook… maybe some clean underwear, 1 change of clothes, a brush, a little wash bag….. a pair of bed socks, another change of clothes, make that three… some high heels (for some special occasion that might arrive out of the blue), a pair of good walking shoes, presents for the family, a cardigan (it might get cold), that summer dress I never wear but I might wear more often somewhere else, a second handbag, a hairdryer and a pair of clogs, sunhat…., correction: sunhats to be safe, nine pairs of jeans…..

Let’s face it, that walk on, walk off trip will never happen. Another utopian dream that has no actual relevance to the way I lead my life, but that’s ok, what’s wrong with arms that drag on the floor and a back that looks like a silhouette of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. So would it be true to say that one’s handbag is a reflection of how we travel in a suitcase? To some degrees I think this might be the case, and this is completely based on hard evidence – my own handbag. In it you will find the usual paraphernalia of diary, wallet, keys etc, but next to that will be a teaspoon-in-waiting for that yoghurt I might buy, or not, an article I feel I will have time to read, sometime, 40 different napkins from 40 different cafes, they will come in use, a pair of lost kids socks (oh, there they are… still!), 1 shoe, just to know the right size should I come across a shoe store with those special shoes my son keeps telling me to look out for, a really funny comic strip I once read and thought is the perfect cheer-me-upperer that might be needed at a crucial moment, and the list goes on and on.

So for this kind of living I need a sturdy handbag that can deal with a lot. I usually lean more towards the ones that are made out of safety belts and carry a stamp of approval from NASA. A handbag is not just a bag; it’s a vital vessel in your life. I don’t change handbags the way some people do, I normally settle on one that I like and then I love it to death. I will use it well beyond what is hygienically appropriate in most Western countries as well as esthetically pleasing to the eye. But they say that love is blind, and in my handbag case, this is definitely true. I keep the image of that first moment of having my new handbag and that impression will stay with me for a long time, perhaps too long, according to some less handbag love struck people. But hey, it’s my bag and I can wear it for as long as I want.

So my newest love is a Finnish beauty by the name of Marimekko Olkalaukku Messenger Bag. It ticks every box. But then again, you can always trust Marimekko to get it right. The amount of stuff I can fit into it is fantastic, and still, it looks in great shape and wears its weight lightly. Deep pockets and a trusted design classic from the 70’s, what more can one ask for. Over the shoulder or across the chest, it’s your choice. And if the Messenger bag isn’t your bag, there is plenty more to choose from, check out funkis for more goodie bags!

Raspberry cordial = liquid gold

2010-07-15T15:16:00.000-07:00

There are many ponderings I ponder on a daily basis and one of them is if raspberry cordial is more valuable than melted gold. When you are confronted by the almost vulgar price of 9 dollars a punnet (of 200 lousy grams of half-hearted berries) in Oz, it is easy to see that raspberries might just be berry gold. And I would like to claim that it is, for more reasons than I can really fit in this blog. Let’s start with the name in Swedish….. Hallon. It is a kind of breezy, laissez-faire kind of name that just sits so right on the tongue. Let’s taste it again, Hallon. This delicious berry with such a delicious name also looks so delicious. Plump little red cushions that all hang together in a perfectly perfect shape of berry plumpness. A delight to the eye as well as the tummy. Then I just love the fact that it grows like weed and people just can’t give it away for love and money when the season is right. I remember my mother stalking the neighbourhood to please release her of a kilo or five, only to be met by slammed doors in her berry face, as they probably had just managed to shift their own surplus raspberry stash somewhere else. It is the berry of abundance.

And this is what brings me to the comparison with liquid gold, in two words, raspberry cordial. The cordial sans competition. The nirvana of cordials, the Holy Grail of berry juices, the complete cordial experience. I reckon you haven’t lived if you haven’t drunk some homemade Swedish raspberry cordial. And the key to this love jus is captured in those three words; raspberry, Swedish and homemade. The homemade bit goes like this, passed on down through generations, at least two. Doesn’t sound that impressive but there you go.

Mamma Ingers Raspberry Cordial

Makes 8 litres

5 litres of berries (fresh the best but you could use frozen as well)
3 litres of water
4 kilos of sugar
35 grams citric acid

Powder the citric acid over the berries in a big bowl.
Boil water and sugar.
Pour water and sugar over the berries in the bowl.
Let it rest for 24 hours.
Siv the mix and pour straight into bottles. Keep cool in the fridge.
The cordial can be frozen, just don’t fill the bottle to the top, keep upright.

Make plenty of it, so for the rest of the year, you can dig out the liquid gold from your stockpile, relive the summer hallon feast of flavours and savour those little moments of glory that just makes life worth living. But please, don’t take my word for it, go hunt, gather and make for yourself and you will thank me for it for the rest of your lives.

Midsummer Delights

2010-06-23T22:56:00.000-07:00

When the eves of lightness stand long and fair in the Swedish summer it is a good time to be alive. As introspective and melancholic as the Swedish species can be in the darkness of November these characters opens up to the light as a sun-thirsty flower craving some D-vitamins. And before you know it, it is an absolutely bearable lightness of being all around.

What kicks off this metamorphosis can normally be located at the base of the maypole. It is something about picking those wild flowers of gentle colours, alluring fragrances and petal fragility, it is something about the plumpness of the strawberries from the local strawberry farmer, it is something about the singing, the playing of old folklorish songs that continues to be passed down from generation to generation, it is something about the promise of summer delights, the magic of lightness, the shades of blue as the sky very slowly changes its ever-present glory of summer nights. It is something of about the feeling that it gives meaning and adds to the sum of who you are, a sense of belonging, a sense of a precious gift of beauty and a time when nature and humans celebrate unanimously the sense of possibilities in the circle of life, when we know that it won’t last forever, therefore embrace the moment and saviour the sweetness of the here and now.

So join the spirit, raise your glasses, dip that herring, clear your throats, sing from the heart, smile at the summer night, dance like the true hedonist we all are at heart and embrace life to the fullest on these long long days and light light nights of midsummer delights.

No time like ‘filmtajm’

2010-06-05T21:37:00.000-07:00

Swedish movies in the eyes of the rest of the world, and including many of our own Swedish species, cannot appreciate, or imagine, Swedish film beyond the Bergman hurdle. With the greatest respect, as I do agree that Mr Ingmar Bergman without doubt was one of the all time best filmmakers, however, we collectively need to acknowledge that there are other Swedish filmmakers worth their celluloid. In a time when you have to stand out in the crowd, Swedish films may not grab the non-speaking audience that easily. It requires an effort and a willingness to seek out something different. The current exception to this sweeping statement is ‘The Girl with The Dragon Tattoo’. Still, but without the best-selling book trilogy, who knows how many moviegoers would have taken their chances on this movie.

So let’s start this movie promotion mini-bonanza at the Sydney Film Festival. The Swedish contribution this year is two short films. ‘Incident by a Bank’ by Ruben Östlund, picked up the Golden Bear at the Berlin Film festival 2010. It will be a little golden nugget of a short film. The second movie is ‘Tusselago’ by Jonas Odell, a lighthearted number where ‘The ex-girlfriend of a West German terrorist, Norbert Krocher, tells her story.’ As I written before, Swedes are jolly people!

So let’s move on to comedy then, shall we. Why not treat yourself to something that I almost guarantee is different to most things you’ve ever seen. This particular thing is called ‘You, the Living’ by Roy Andersson. You either love it or hate it. Further in the comedy cupboard, it is hard to pass on the classic film ‘Four Shades of Brown’ directed by Thomas Alfredson. Judging by the titles I can anticipate a stampede towards arthouse movie rental places such as Dr What in Bondi Junction to find these rar e treasures. Otherwise your best chances might be online.

Finally, to go back in history, I would love to see a re-release of a Swedish thriller classic called ‘The Man on the Roof’ by Bo Widerberg from 1976. A true thriller gem that still stands out to this day, many moons later. These little suggestions are only scraping the surface, just a little spot of movies to wet your appetites, but these wintry days are perfect for some movie watching, at home or in the cinema, and be brave, stray away from the big H movies, you might even stumbled upon something unpredictable!

Shady business

2010-05-20T17:22:00.000-07:00

As winter comes crawling towards us and we are heading for the darker side of the year the business of shades light up my mind. I could perhaps ponder the bigger issues in life and the world, like riots, economic madness and the uneven distribution of means. But as my gaze wonders upwards towards that special gazing place I feel gives me a certain air of deep contemplation, I can’t help but fix my stare on a naked light bulb swinging in all its nakedness from the ceiling. Oh dear, saving the world just has to wait a day or two while I address the more urgent matters at hand, give that bulb a shade!

An easy way to perk up any kind of space is with a lampshade mit personality.
You can get away with a lot of ‘beyond ordinary’ if there is a shade in the space that steals all the attention. But I’m not talking about the dreary hand-me-downers your might get conned into receiving just because you find it hard to say to your spouse’s aunt that the shade in question shouldn’t have made it into this side of 1960’s. I’m not talking about the kind of shady shades that remind you of a bamboo forest with nicotine stains. I’m talking about the kind of shades where you decide the size, design and fabric. The shade that oozes style and je ne sais quoi. I’m talking about the wagu beef fillet of lampshades.

You might think, ‘Hold your horses O’ shade blaster! Such a shade costs a fortune, it can’t be within the reach of mere mortals!’ Well, yes. That is the most wonderful, under explored little ‘unsecret’ of the shade world. It doesn’t cost an arm or a leg; you don’t have to sell the kids to the white slave trade or shave your head in a fundraiser at the local school. The cost of your lampshade is perfectly affordable. You just have to decide what you want, because there is a smörgåsbord (I know, crazy, but that is the correct spelling!) of options. And as my ‘Scandi’ genes leads the way of style and class, I head to Miljö or funkis for some shady advice on my perfectly perfect lampshades. And I might just solve the world’s problems once my shade shines that special light on me.

The Mother of all Swedish mothers

2010-05-08T00:42:00.000-07:00

In these celebratory times of the female ability to reproduce and mother a little critter or two, let’s not hold back in praising these uber-women. Let’s join the gush-party of all mothers and their significance to each and every living homo sapien skipping around this blue-green globe. And let’s, for the hell of it, lift the Swedish mother up above all others for a paragraph or two.

A Swedish mother is like no other. Not only does she work up to, and including, the actual day of giving birth. Not only does she hang around at home until contractions are 10 seconds apart before driving to the hospital, after the popping out, she has a cup of tea, with a bit of toast, before packing her belongings and driving back home within 12 hours of giving birth. With the waving hospital staff quickly disappearing in the rearview mirror. And she’s most likely to cook dinner for the family that very evening. A trooper in plain anglais.

A Swedish mother is also a bit of a unisex mother; she’s capable of most things. Breastfeeding? Sure. Changing a car tire? No problems. Homemade Christmas cards? You bet. Pruning the fruit trees? Goes without saying. You would be hard pressed to find something the Swedish mother isn’t capable of. And this includes pole dancing and yodeling. She is a regular domestic goddess, on top of pulling her weight in the workforce. Further, a Swedish mother can still catch public transport with her child. I know, crazy but true!

Also, a Swedish mother isn’t too precious. Following a fairly no-fuss delivery, she goes on to treat her child with respect and care, but is in general rather matter-of-fact about the whole mothering deal. For example, even though it’s minus 24 degrees Celsius, you will see lots of little babies sleeping rugged up in their prams outside, while the mothers are sitting inside drinking hot chocolate. Why? It’s the attitude that ‘fresh air never hurt anyone’. And guess what, it’s true. A Swedish mother also trust her motherly instinct that a sore throat and a temperature does not need the blessing of a doctor and treated with antibiotics. And yet these children survive. Unheard-of approach in many countries.

So hail to all Swedish mothers and all other mothers out there! Don’t despair though if you haven’t been blessed with a Swedish mother. You can always pick up a surrogate Swedish mother and buy her a present for Mother’s Day; she’ll love you for it. Or buy your non-Swedish mother something Swedish, it might rub off!

And in regards to presents, please spend a lot. We are worth it. If you have a little voice inside you saying, ‘it’s the thought that counts’, don’t listen. Spend big, go that extra mile. Tie yourself in a knot, bend over backwards, shower your mum with presents and flowers because she will LOVE IT.

Light my Fire – the story of a striking match

2010-04-19T18:25:00.001-07:00

Some things we take for granted. Like lighting a candle, fire or any other flammable object that needs some flamin’. Ever so often we stumble across a documentary showing us how in the ‘olden days’ humans used flints, glass in sun or any other way worthy of an episode of ‘Man v Wild’. From the comfort of our sofa, lit up by an array of lights, we huff in that special way only comfortable Westerners can, who never huddled around a wet piece of branch trying to cook dinner and keep the wild ones away, and realise ‘’I would freeze to death, develop a taste for raw meat and be eaten by a pack of wolves in no time’. Survival of the fittest.

And then the match came along, and it became survival of the smartest. I’m so pleased the match was invented. What a genius Gustaf Erik Pasch was, may his memory burn forever. Not only a match, but a safety match! The iMatch of matches. It has Sweden written all over it. Flaming, but safe. Herr Pasch certainly had panache.

Often the best things in life seem easy. At least they come across that way. A shoehorn, a doorstop, a rocking chair and a cheese knife are just some of the things that come into my mind.Though the safety match is simple in function, it is the whole science behind it that makes it work. And work. And work. 160 years later, the concept has remained the same. The making of safety matches became one of Sweden’s most successful industries in the 19th Century and into the 20th Century, and probably the most recognised export of Sweden at this time. Not bad for a bit of wood, chemistry and a strike. So next time you’re cuddling up next to your loved on, replace the humming of Door’s ‘Light my fire’ by asking if your darling wouldn’t mind swipe the match against your striking surface.

Re-birch

2010-03-08T17:51:00.000-08:00

Let me share with you the joy I recently felt when I rather by complete luck stumbled upon a birch tree in the Sydney wilderness.
There I was, panting away in the sweltering heat, mistaking the inner West for Bali the as the temperature reached indecent heights. I could feel the heat choking me, the asphalt bubbling under my feet; my shoes melting and I started to transform from a cool swede to a withering turnip. I was wringing my top out as the sweat kept weighing me down, inhaled a litre or two of water to refill the reserves while I contemplated the rest of the journey home. All of a sudden, a little breeze came through and I heard a familiar sound, the very distinct rustling of birch leaves that sounds like no other. “No”, I said to my self, “ It can’t be…” I was at this point leaning more towards the explanation that I was hallucinating as my brain obviously was trying to cope with the heat. But then I heard it again. My eyes followed the sound and lo’ and behold, there it was, a wonderful majestic birch tree speaking to me. It gave me such a pang of familiarity and happiness that I mentally started folk-dancing in my regional folkdräkt with my imaginary dancing partner Börje, who’s little funny woollen knee balls kept banging against my strong legs as we swirled around in the polka while the accordion and violin kept the tempo up.

I was abruptly snapped out of my reveries by the children, who asked why I was standing staring at a tree in someone else’s garden. I reluctantly disentangled myself from Börje’s firm hands around my little waist and tried to explain the significance of my birch sighting, already feeling a good 20 degrees cooler. The level of my children’s excitement reflected their lack of knowledge and affiliation with the birch tree, so I had to continue my birch high all by my self. And continue it did. I forgot about the heat, the melting thongs, sticky asphalt et al. Just by seeing this beautiful tree I could will myself to a cooler place, full of refreshing breezes, overpopulated with Nordic dancing-men, and some classic, slightly annoying, folk music played al fresco. So in times like these, what we all need is our own little mental birch tree to keep the heat under control. If you can’t have your own living birch haven, surround yourself with birch memorabilia, such as beautiful furniture from Gamla Lan, homeware with birch details from Funkis, birch fabrics from Chee Soon & Fitzgerald, or opt for the IKEA version where you can get absolutely everything in birch veneer, including the $1 hot dogs.

The Point of the Return

2010-02-01T15:50:00.000-08:00

Post-Christmas-sales, post-end-of-year-sales, post beginning of-of-year-sales one can suffer from sales fatigue or plain ol’ confusion of purchases. While returning items, especially at sales times, can be a hard and arduous task. You have to produce 100 points of evidence that you actually purchased the item, this including a thumbprint and your great-grandmother’s maiden name. It also has to be within the time frame of minus 24 hrs and you still have to come up with some strangely suitable excuse why you changed your mind. I break out in a sweat of guilt every time I return something, feeling slightly incompetent that I couldn’t make the right decision to start with, ‘how hard can it be, how can you fail in your judgment of a white T-shirt?’ Maybe it’s just genetic Protestant guilt rearing its ugly head or maybe it’s the queasy feeling of hassling the sales staff, but when returning stuff I always feel as if I’ve borrowed my friend’s favorite item and damaged it, beyond repair.

But for all these slightly anxious ridden returns I have endured through my history of shopping, there is also the antidote that operates under the name of IKEA. Unparalleled in its eagerness for a return, it is the Mecca of Returns, the ultimate meaning of the word Return. I would even go as far as betting my cat’s head that when the English language was in its infancy, men were pondering long and hard if the word for taking things back that you had purchased and for some reason didn’t want any longer, should go under the name IKEA or Return.

Sometimes I have an itch to just buy something at IKEA so I can return it. I know, sick, but true. But I feel I’m making someone happy. And it’s not me (well it is but I’m happy to make someone else happy). Returning your Hejka rocking chair because it clashed with the Kramfors sofa and the Liatorp table is a pure joy. When you show up with your item to return you almost have a feeling that you are giving someone a gift, a very special gift. No questions asked, just hand over the receipt and the box. And if you don’t have the receipt? Don’t stress, there is a special little line with tickets just for you. Now, that’s considerate. No guilt, no explanation, no sweaty palms. I just lift my gaze up to that happy little heart pillow that tells me: ‘It’s OK to change your mind’. It fills me with warm fuzzy feelings, I feel like hugging someone, a pillow, an IKEA staff member or perhaps the person next to me that is queuing up for the bits-missing-give-me-a-new-one-sorry-we’re-temporarily-out-of-stock-desk.

Swedish Christmas feel in the time of tropical heat

2009-12-13T03:46:00.000-08:00

I hate to break it to you all white-Christmas pining-Sweden-loving-conflicting-Christmas feelings-of-cold/hot/light/dark-kind-of-people like myself; Christmas in Australia will never be like the Christmases back in the winter dark of Northern Europe, in the tomteland of Svedala. And I mean never, ever. Sorry to shatter any illusions but I think we need to agree on this point before we can move forward and find peace with working out an alternative.

This, however, doesn’t mean that one can’t create a little piece of Swedish Christmas celebration right in the middle of the 35 degrees heat, one just have to be selective and smart about it. And that’s exactly what I’m going to help you to do. I will help you, step by step, to navigate Christmas in the most possibly stylish, genuine and user-friendly way I can think of. Without too much stress or anxiety.

Firstly, Christmas for me is about the senses. For me it needs to smell like Christmas, taste like Christmas, sound like Christmas and look like Christmas, even if only from the micro perspective of your home. This can easily be achieved in a not too complicated manner.

To make it smell like Christmas you need to identify those smells that make the Christmas feeling kick in for you. Essential for me is a REAL Christmas tree. Yes, the price of a semi-real looking tree in Australia is comparable to at least half a regular pine forest in Sweden. But hey, comparing Christmas tree prices with the Great North is not getting you any closer to experiencing the ‘Xmas feeling’. Bite the bullet and buy the tree, see it as your Christmas present to yourself. Inhale. Decorate your tree with lovely things from funkis or IKEA and the picture is complete. Exhale.

Secondly, I have a very weak spot for oranges with cloves in them. And the smell is wonderful, makes me twitch with Yule-feel all over. Decorate your own oranges with cloves and you will reap the benefits throughout Christmas. These decorations also make a very nice present.

Unless you are the Stephanie Alexander of Swedish Christmas cooking, know your limitations and set your goals in a realistic timeframe.

If you don’t have time to bake ginger cookies, pop into IKEA, Coles or Woolworths and pick up some of Anna’s pepparkakor. If you want to make the ginger cookies more versatile, put a bit of blue cheese, such as Roquefort or the like, on top of a ginger cookie and you’ve got yourself a tasty nibble pre-‘julbord’.

‘Julbord’. Important indeed, but let’s not go too crazy. If you can’t recreate the ‘julbord’ of your childhood, don’t feel bad, and remember, you probably didn’t eat most of it anyway. Include the best bits only. My variation is Janssons frestelse, beetroot salad, meatballs, gravlax, ham, 2 styles of herring (mustard and French for example), knäckebröd, cheese and a green salad. Everyone can add any specialities that they feel are a must. Let’s remember, improvisation is good. And no one here will know the difference. And for pudding, I love a tasty Ris a la Malta.

The key to a relaxing Christmas in the Swedish spirit is to try not to stress madly the day of the 24th of December. Most things on my ‘julbord’ can be made in advance. Prep the Jansson frestelse and meatballs and stick in the freezer. Go crazy, have it done in November! Gravlax is so easy and takes care of it self that all you need to do is turn the little parcel about twice a day for 3 days. How hard is that? The herring sits nicely in the jar, keep it that way. The beetroot salad taste better if you prep it the day before. I can’t be bothered with making my own ham, I just buy ham of the bone and schlep a bit of tasty mustard on top. The Ris a la Malta can also be made the day before and kept in the fridge under some cling wrap. That leaves you with tossing a green salad on Christmas Eve. Easy.

Glögg. I’m sorry to say this but this drink doesn’t work for me at all this side of the equator; I let it remain one of those things I only do when Christmas is celebrated in an environment that enjoys no more than 5 hrs of daylight per day. But if it makes you feel Christmas fuzzy, here’s a DIY.

In regards to making it sound like Christmas, the options are endless. In this day and age of high tech super highway kind of way of living, crank up Sveriges Radio and tune into a whole range of different Christmas feeler-gooderers 24/7 up to the 6th of January. You can of course also listen to the local Swedish Christmas variation of radio at SBS where the Swedish Programme will broadcast all kinds of Christmas songs. Or download or order some Swedish Christmas music on Amazon. Or maybe just sing some traditional Swedish Christmas music, the optimal way to get the Yule-groove going.

To get into the Swedish Christmas feel, there are not only things I recommend you to do, but there are also things I strongly recommend that you don’t do and actively stay AWAY from.

Some of these no-goes are:

Wildly blinking lights/Christmas decoration. Christmas shouldn’t be confused with a raunchy red light district. Bad for Christmas feng shui.

Any native Australian animal dressed up in Santa outfit. A definite NO. An absolute killer of Nordic Christmas feel.

And remember, don’t peak too early. Start Christmas preparations on the right side of December to minimise the anticlimactic feel of premature Christmas fatigue.

I hope this little Swedish Christmas guide can come in handy, and remember, you can take Christmas out of Sweden, but not Sweden out of Christmas, rock that reindeer!

The Swede who threw a better spanner in the works

2009-11-30T14:49:00.000-08:00

There are so many people to thank for so many reasons, all those people who made life easier for the rest of the world population. All those people who took things one step further for the greater good of all, those people who thought “ this can’t be it? There must be more to this tool than this?!”

Well, no more sleepless nights for all you home-handy individuals who have found yourself on many occasions looking down on your personal adjustable wrench and thought “who came up with this clever tool and is it a Swede?”

Let me quench your thirst for answers. Firstly, is it a Swede? But of course it is a Swede. The inventor of the adjustable wrench, unknowingly, is the forefather of the expression ‘less is more’. While Johan Petter Johansson (1853-1943) was working as a fitter, he found himself standing in a sea of wrenches to match a whole range of screws and nuts. The confusion and frustration was evident for JPJ and being the clever sausage he was he combined the whole lot into one single tool, the adjustable nut wrench, or the universal wrench. This little piece of invention was constructed and patented in 1892. Since then, the regular toolbox contents have been more or less halved and many trades’ people’s backs have been saved, chiropractic clinics gone out of business, all due to our nifty JPJ. So inspirational has the adjustable wrench been that some people even write songs about it. Credit given where credit is due.

Shine a light on the Reflector

2009-11-15T18:38:00.000-08:00

In these days of brightness I feel an overwhelming urge to share some warm thoughts on how good it is to have a reflector in you pocket. Any person who ever spent a winter in that Nordic country of mine will know that to make your self be seen in the dark is almost as important as having a seatbelt in the car. Debatable, absolutely, but such is the attitude of some Swedes. I don’t know of any country that has such a strong urge and an identified need to be seen in the dark as the Swede. Sure, my vast knowledge of cultures wearing a snappy reflector on their body doesn’t include the Polish highlands or the depth of the Ukraine, still I feel confident to claim that Swedes must surely be on the top 3-list of such activities.

And what a wonderful free marketing tool the reflector is! Every bank, business and promotional ‘do’ produce a reflector to hand out for free. Because guess what, there is a whole willing population of Swedes trying to be seen in the dark. Yep, one plus one is two and never has Sparbanken got so much free advertising as they do in the winter darkness of Sweden, with their logo dangling so temptingly from the pocket of a responsible Swede.

Oh, the joys of attaching a new reflector to the pocket of your winter jacket lifted your spirit as few other things did. The shapes and styles were many and the choice was often hard, but then again there are normally two pockets on the jacket so why not stick one reflector in each pocket, go crazy. So every little winter pocket of my childhood contained a piece or two of hard shiny plastic, attached to a safety pin and a piece of string. Sometimes the safety pin stopped being safe and while rummaging around inside the pocket for the reflector many small fingers drew a drop of blood or two. Often the string was a complete mess and instead of hanging freely outside your pocket and swinging while you walked, one would only spot a piece of plastic half peering out of the pocket in a choking kind of fashion, probably wrapped in the half-ripped pocket lining as well. But safety before all else.

As we moved into the 21st Century many things changed, but Swedes still like to be seen in the dark and a new cool approach to the reflector lurv is the Firefly reflectors. Stylish, fun and functional, just like your regular Swede. And why stop at saving your children from the darkness of winter, include your dog in the light-loving-reflector fest!

White cabbage is the new rocket

2009-10-24T23:16:00.000-07:00

Who invented the Swedish pizza salad?

Who ever it was, their image should be immortalised in a white cabbage sculpture.
Pizza salad is for the visit to a Swedish pizzeria like soy sauce is to a Japanese meal – a must. And on top of it, one could interpret this glorious delicacy as a culinary expression of Swedish socialism because the pizza salad is FREE. Amazing. Or not.
The pizza salad is made by one of the cheapest vegetables there is, white cabbage. It’s a vegetable that in general isn’t going down in history as the most sensual or exotic piece of nature. While asparagus could trigger erotic ideas and the lure of phallic horizons, white cabbage draws a blank. Or, for the breastfeeding masses out there, white cabbage could, at a stretch, trigger ideas about soothing breasts riddled with the agonies of mastitis. Therefore, the likelihood of asparagus and white cabbage ending up on the same plate is not very big.

To create this delicacy, the cabbage is sliced thinly and then doused in oil, vinegar, salt, pepper and if you’re lucky, a spot of pickled capsicum. Does this sound pretty lame? Just hang in there. The salad gets better the older it gets. A bit like a nice wine. It needs time. Just not too much time because then your Grange Hermitage of pizza salads turn into bad cabbage. And you don’t want to eat that, trust me.

In Sweden, it doesn’t matter how fantastic the actual pizza is, and how cheap it is, if you don’t get offered your free pizza salad, the likeliness of a return visit to that particular pizzeria is close to zero. Sounds strange, but then again, we can be kind of strange people. So when my craving for a good ol’ pizza salad to go with my Kebab pizza gets the better of me I head to Sven’s Viking Pizza in Bondi Junction. So good is his salad AND his pizzas that the Italian Association of Pizza Makers in Australia is looking for a way to close him down. Not bad for a guy with a viking helmet. Go Sven!

Brush in style.

2009-10-09T21:35:00.000-07:00

‘A spring clean’, what a wonderful, slightly dated expression, if you are to really look at what it says. The old idea of having seasonal cleanings, the ones where you turn the house upside down, drag everything out into the garden, devote a whole day, or weekend, to thoroughly scrub every nook and cranny of your place, well, yeah, keep the dream alive is all I can say. Perhaps something changed in our cleaning habits when the vacuum cleaner became a standard object in every household, perhaps we don’t find the time to do these gigantic clean outs any longer or perhaps we just can’t be bothered. As I often say when the dust balls tumble down the hallway like spinifex on the prairie and I’m pinned to the wall: ‘A little dirt has never hurt anyone.’ Which really just means that I can happily accept my lacking cleaning-gene that obviously wasn’t passed down from my mother.

But if I have to clean, which does happen, I like to make it as graceful an activity as possible. And this doesn’t include crawling around on the floor on all fours with a brush and pan to pick up unidentified objects. Oh no, I do this activity in style using yet another very smart Swedish product, the long handled brush and pan. It’s so simple it’s almost stupid. If it wasn’t so smart. What more can you ask for, functional and good-looking.

www.funkis.com

Homo Cyclius

2009-10-01T21:39:00.000-07:00

While Swedes have seen the cycling light many light years ago, we are still struggling here in Australia to come to terms with the bicycle as a mode of transport, not just a leisure activity that includes a car ride, with bike on bike rack, to the park.

Bike riding in Sydney is up there with extreme sports like base-jumping. You are basically risking your life, willingly. People call you a fool for venturing out in the street jungle full of predatory machines such as cars. AND should you be so irresponsible as sticking a kid in the child seat, you could risk loosing custody of your own offsprings. This misconception could possibly be traced back to some clever car manufacturer, who knows. But let’s get one thing straight, bike riding is great. For so many reasons. And I’m not going to tell you which those reasons are; you just have to find out for yourself.

And while Sweden didn’t invent the wheel they invented bikes such as Skeppshult's wonderful machines. Second best I’d say. They are available in Australia, but you might have to pop to Victoria to pick one up.

www.cykla.com.au
Skeppshult Bikes

The Big Chanterelle Myth

2009-09-24T18:07:00.000-07:00

It’s been a good year, an amazing year. At least, so I was told.
2009 was the year when you couldn’t help but stumble upon chanterelles in the Swedish forest. They were EVERYWHERE. No exaggeration. Even if you didn’t try to pick them you seemed to come home with pockets full of them, simply by passing through a bit of nature. ‘Greta just popped out, and lo and behold, five litres of chanterelles while picking up the newspaper from the letterbox in the morning. ‘. Amazing. ‘Janne goes out every afternoon and scoops up more than he can eat and bring to work for charitable distribution’. Unheard of. No one gives away litres of chanterelles unless they are some other look-a-like but seriously poisonous fungi found in the moss.

So to put it mildly, my expectations in the chanterelle department of success was, as far as I was concerned, a given. It was more a question of HOW many amazing litres would I be able to brag about once I came out of the woods alive after my fungal expedition. Well, my chanterelle glee soon enough turned to chanterelle desperation, before finally settling on chanterelle failure. I found one. Not two, but one. And I covered the geographical landmass of an average county. Either they were all hiding from my terribly untrained eye or as my mother gently remarked: ‘someone must have cleared this place before you’. Sure, had it been the size of an average city park. Sure. But I’m talking an area the size of Tasmania. SURELY ‘someone’ couldn’t have cleared it all before me. And aren’t they meant to grow back?! And I have to admit, that single one I found was so pathetically small that any chanterelle picker worth their woven basket would have left it to grow. But hell, I couldn’t come back completely empty handed. The shame would have been unbearable.

So my theory is that the chanterelle myth strongly resembles the fish myth, you know the one that got away? Because, seriously, has anyone ever seen these 8 gazillion litres of chanterelles that people seem to effortlessly amass? Do you actually confront someone after they told their proud and happy forest story and insist on being shown the freezer box in the basement just to verify the truth factor? That kind of behaviour results in less Christmas cards. No one likes to be doubted, especially not in the chanterelly kind of way. So you just say ‘wow, that’s amazing’ and then the story is legitimate. It’s the truth, at least as far as you’ve been told. No proof shown, no proof needed.

Still, my single premature chanterelle teamed up with a small bunch of other chanterelle misfits and became a little taste sensation of a nibble before dinner. Butter, salt, white pepper and onion. And of course that rare species of a thing called chanterelle. Together they made my day, the delicacy of rarity is a fine thing to taste. And as I’ve always said, ‘better one chanterelle on the fork than six litres unpicked in the forest’.

Why do we need a Swede?

2009-09-02T00:03:00.000-07:00

Why do we need a Swede? They are pretty handy to have.
Just ask the Balkans. Or the Iraquis. Or the UN. When you need someone to drop in for some peace negotiations, or look for weapons of mass destruction, and you are really scraping the barrel for objective choices, searching high and low for people out there without too many stains on their national reputation. Or stains on their intern’s dress.
There is an answer. Go safe, go Swede.

A couple of favorite political pin-up boys to stir into the pot of dealing with messy situations around the globe are Carl Bildt and Hans Blix. Both did what they could with various results. Still, no damage was done to the reputation of the Swede.
Slick and smooth is all I can.

Return of the clog

2009-08-25T23:25:00.000-07:00

Growing up in Sweden I have a very natural relationship with clogs. As a child, the clog was always the right thing to wear. Easy to put on and easy to take of. Parked next to the front door was a mountain of clogs, at least one pair for each family member. And as you might be well aware of, a good Swede takes of their footwear at the front door. Still, there were times when the clogs had to stay behind. One of those occasions was tree climbing. A tree, according to my mother, should never been climbed in clogs: ‘too slippery, darling’. The other event that had to be clog free was football (and I mean football, not rugby!). The reason for this sport to be clog free had little to do with the fact that you might twist your ankle or slip or find it hard to run. Oh no, the biggest danger with playing football in clogs was the risk of the other players. When kicking the ball your clog might fly of your foot and hit somebody in the head and cause great injury! So, us clog-wearing Swedes are very considerate people.‘But how can a piece of wood on your foot be comfortable?’ I often get asked.Well, it’s a bit like jeans. Before the pre-distressed, acid-softened, beyond-vintage, homeless-chic versions were cluttering the jeans market. I’m talking back in the ‘olden days’ when new jeans could be parked standing up by themselves in your room while you had a shower. Those blue jeans that made your thighs have a slightly sick blue tint for a couple of weeks before it got washed out. Clogs are like those good old jeans, you have to break them in, put your mark in them, and make them yours, with pride. And once you’ve done that, you can never look back. So really, every time you see somebody wearing clogs you are witnessing a beautiful thing, you are seeing a person who has domesticated a piece of wood and fallen in love.