Nordic walking

I walk differently when I'm in Sweden.

This thought popped up in my head as I took the first steps on a wintery pavement this Christmas, after my arrival at Landvetter airport in Gothenburg. With all that ice, often hidden by new snow – you can't just trot along as you would on a bare (and probably wet) UK pavement. No, it requires a careful and balanced approach. I gradually got back into the habit whilst walking around Gothenburg, waiting for the train to take me further north, to Arvika.

A consequence of this 'Nordic walking' is the fact that most Swedish women don't wear stiletto shoes and boots – wintertime. We all dress practically up North, you know. I mean, we would be silly not to! Try walking on a snowy and icy pavement in mid-winter Sweden with high heels and you see what I mean. When Swedish women go to parties and clubs, they bring their indoor shoes with them in a bag and change once inside the venue. And when visiting friends, you just take your boots off in the hallway and walk around in your socks. How British people can walk around on white carpets with dirty shoes and even curl up in the sofa... well, that remains a mystery to us Scandinavians.

Then there's the Nordic driving. As I was driving quite a lot this Christmas time – on proper winter roads in the forest – the Nordic walking thoughts kept coming back to me. At the end of the day, it's really the same thing. Driving in a wintery Sweden requires not just winter tyres, but so much more concentration. Not only do your eyes have to read the landscape, in a constant look-out for elks. (That's an all year round thing, by the way.) They also have to measure how far out on the snow covered verge you can allow yourself to drive. When meeting cars, you have to balance the distance needed to the other car with the added risk of skidding off the road.

But – you get a 'feel' for it. The trick is to avoid braking, but instead using the clutch and steering yourself back to normal, should you start skidding. Be gentle. Slow down. "Pretend you have a raw egg between your foot and the accelerator." Those wise words from my driving instructor (when I was 18) still ring true.

Us Swedes might be 'safe and boring', but – there's a good reason for it.

Clematis with a difference

This year, I spent Easter in the UK. I cannot remember when that happened last – I usually spend it back home in Sweden, with painted eggs, pickled herring, salmon, bunches of birch twigs decorated with multi-coloured feathers and 'Easter eggs' filled with sweets.

However, this year I went home the week before Easter, for Mum's birthday. On the last day, whilst rolling my suitcase to the railway station, I passed a shop selling Easter feathers. 

It was then I had THE IDEA.

 

As birch trees are far and few between in England, I had to make do with what I could find in the garden. So far, I have had no complaints from the neighbours, but I'm pretty sure they were wondering what they were looking at, that Good Friday morning. Oh well. 

If Lars Norén had done IKEA

Whenever I walk around an IKEA shop in the UK, I find it amusing that I understand what the product names really mean, whereas the English speaking IKEA staff probably don't. (Or maybe they have done a course – I don't know.) I have always wondered what it would be like if the names weren't so... perfect. And nice. Therefore, I made my own version:

Swedes will understand this one – I hope. If you're not Swedish or if you're Swedish but never heard of  Lars Norén , I can tell you he's a Swedish playwright, known for his realistic, incredibly gritty and black family dramas.




Ash tray – NICOTINE
Bar stool – WOBBLE
Bathroom scales – ANOREXIA
Bed sofa – DIVORCE
Bib – DRIBBLE
Bread knife – PLASTER
CD shelf – PIRATE
Ceiling mirror – PERVY
Cocktail glass – TIPSY
Dining table – DARFUR
Door mat – PISS-OFF
Foldable table – PINCH
Guest towel – SHOW-OFF
Handmade carpet – SADDAM
Kitchen hook – BROILER
Laminate floor – FRACTURE
Magnifying glass – ACNE
Oven cloth – ASBESTOS
Pillow case – SNORE
Plastic bucket – VOMIT
Plate – CALORIE
Scented candle – CANNABIS
Sheep skin mat – HALAL
Shower curtain – PSYCHO
Spring mattress – OUCH
Sunbed – MELANOM
Swivel armchair – DIZZY
Table fan – MENOPAUSE
Toilet mat – DRIP-DROP

I'm sure you can add a few?

Dill galore in Wallander land

Nationalism. I don't like that word. Too many negative connotations throughout history, too much egoism, greed and intolerance. And still, when it comes to Midsummer, I feel very Swedish.

I feel proud of our Swedish Midsummer traditions, the way we celebrate the height of the summer, the light, the long summer nights. I mean... can you blame us? After what seems like an eternal, dark, cold winter with short days and depressing darkness, Summer comes as a welcome relief, a breathing space. Laid back Swedes let their hair down and enjoy each other's company in a feast celebrating this short period of light. Ok, this solstice indulgence is very much alcohol induced, I grant you. However, that is probably what it takes for us Swedes to show our inner emotions. Italians we are not.

Anyway. What I really wanted to say is that I think we become more nationalistically inclined the longer we stay away from our native country. I was never that bothered about celebrating Midsummer when I lived in Sweden. But now, after soon 13 years away from what I still call home, I'm making the most of this weekend. My Swedish flag is on the table, it's pickled herring if I can find it, salmon, prawns and lots of dill.

Strange brew

In my series "Observations by a Britt-ish Swede" I have now come to the subject of tea and coffee.

When Swedes ask someone around for coffee, it usually means coffee cups or mugs placed on the table, with buns, a cake or something similar. Then sugar, milk or cream are being placed on the table. Or you just go and help yourself to milk from the fridge... Note - it is not taken for granted that you use milk in tea or coffee. In many homes, you have to ask especially for it. "Oh, you want milk?" If you want lemon or maybe honey... forget it. That's just showing off!

Then the host goes around the table, serves the coffee and each guest prepares his / her own cup by helping themselves to sugar, milk or cream.

Now, in Britain... The host has to go around and ask each guest: "How do you take your coffee?" Then, 10 guests later, the same host's brain is struggling like mad. "Did you say white, one sugar?" "The one without sugar is the third from the left. No, hang on - from the right. I think."

After a lot of mental activity and confusion, everyone gets their cup or mug and have to make do with a beverage which probably doesn't quite live up to their expectations.

I have often wondered why it is like this and what I prefer myself. I must admit, I do like preparing my own brew, the way I like it. I assume my guests would prefer that, too.

Tea: Earl Grey, in my special tea mug - yeah that one! Let it stand for a long time so it gets really strong. Then, quite a lot of milk. Blue milk.

Coffee: Now here, I'm an all-rounder. I can take it black & strong or white - both with milk or cream. Preferably no sugar though. Latte, cappuccino, espresso... I'm game.

On the other hand, there's something caring about having someone making a tea or coffee for you. Someone has made the effort, taken their time to find out what you like and how to please your senses.

Hrmm. Tricky one, that. What do you prefer?

I like BIG ones

Having lived in England since 1998, I have got used to most things English. I thank the bus driver when getting off the bus, I have increased my tea consumption, I queue in an orderly manner - you know the things I mean. However, one thing this extremely adaptable and broad-minded Swede find it hard to accept is the way British people eat cheese.

It would be unfair to put the blame solely on the British as I feel exactly the same about the French. To be more precise, I should perhaps state it is not the cheese itself but the way it is being delivered that is the cause of my concern. More specifically, I am talking about how the packaging does not comply with the tool with which one eats it. And - I am talking about hard cheeses only.

Take breakfast, for example. Swedish people usually have slices of cheese on their bread, often adorned by slices of pepper, tomatoes or cucumber. I know, I know - we're so boringly correct & healthy. After all, we did invent the seat belt, so what do you expect? Oh, and dynamite.

Now then, to make proper slices you need an "osthyvel"- Swedish for cheese cutter.

Say after me: "Ost-hyv-el". Well done.

But unfortunately, these are far and few between in this country. You can get them at posh cookery type shops - or at IKEA, of course. But even if you are equipped with a proper "osthyvel", you will find that the shape of the cheese itself doesn't quite correspond to 'Swedish standards'. In other words, it is simply too thin. It won't take more than a few sandwiches to make this piece of cheese completely unworkable. Put it on its high side and it becomes too unstable and produces ridiculously tiny slices.

I am aware that the British way of Cheddar munching is more leaning towards little chunks, cut off with a knife, and meant to be eaten in a Ploughman environment. And the French façon is again, completely different and definitely requires du vin, du pain & du Boursin..

But I still would like a proper sized triangular piece of hard cheese. There. I've said it.

And - a final note, giving credit where credit is due: The "Osthyvel" was invented by a Norwegian - not a Swede. Heja Norge!