Another latte...

2010-11-21T20:15:00.000+01:00

Today while I was struggling to write while feeling not in the mood to write at all, I happened upon an article on the New York Time's website about Matera, an Italian city I had the pleasure of visiting two years ago. I was there for a writers conference and stayed for a little over a week. While I was there, I met some lovely people and enjoyed the beauty and culture of this wonderful city to the fullest.

Have a look at the article. I think you'll be enchanted by Matera and Basilicata.

2010-09-17T21:45:00.000+02:00

Airplane Etiquette...

On Tuesday afternoon I returned home from a two-week holiday in the US and, while it feels good to be back in my apartment in Frösunda, I feel a little homesick. That being said, as much as I miss the US, I don't miss some of the people. There was a certain level of rudeness and narrow-mindedness that I encountered while Stateside that drove me insane. Some of the rudeness can be attributed to the stress of living in a big city; a lot of it was just plain arrogance and ignorance. But that's another post.

What really got my goat was something that happened on the way home.

My flight to the US was great. I was seated next to a lovely older woman named Gail from New Jersey who was on her way home from having visited Norway. We chatted for a while about her vacation in Scandinavia--she'd been there several times in the past and loved the stark beauty of the Norwegian coast and the people she'd met. I was seated by the window; she was in the aisle seat.

One of the first things that Gail said to me once we'd fastened our seat belts was that I should just let her know--even if she was sleeping--if I needed to stand to stretch or go to the bathroom. I thought that was nice of her, especially since I am one of those people who like to stretch while I am flying just so I don't get swollen feet, etc. True to her word, the three or four times I needed to leave my seat, she stood and let me get up without seeming annoyed that I was disturbing her. It's one of the things one must accept if one chooses to sit in the aisle seat.

By the end of the flight, I felt like Gail and I, through our chats about Scandinavia and living in the the Philadelphia area, etc had managed to become pretty good travel buddies. We even chatted as we waited for our luggage.

Sadly, the same cannot be said for the woman whom I sat beside on my way home from the US. When I boarded my London-bound flight, I realized I was going to have to sit beside a woman who didn't like being "disturbed". She glared at me when she found out I was in the window seat. She huffed and puffed and behaved like it was a chore for her to stand up so that I could get to my seat. Three hours into the flight, when I needed to use the facilities, her huffing and puffing and rolling her eyes were enough that I wondered if she'd paid for two seats so she could have space but British Airways had only allotted her one. I offered to switch seats with her and explained that I would probably need to get up a few more times to stretch and to use the bathroom. She refused and said, "I want the aisle seat. I wouldn't have booked it if I didn't want it."

Fair enough. But if you're going to sit in the aisle seat, then you shouldn't behave like the person sitting beside you is being unreasonable if they need to stand up or leave their seat. During the 6.5-hour flight, she never left her seat to use the facilities--so there was no way I could leave mine without waking her up or tapping her on the shoulder to ask if she could stand up. At one point, she griped that I was beginning "to be a pain".

Hmm. Well, I ignored her but it started to annoy me that I was being perceived as a pain simply because I needed to use the toilet. I drink a lot of water when I am on long-haul flights because I want to stay hydrated. I need to stand. I like to do the Wellness stretch program that British Airways advises all its passengers to follow when they are on long flights. And considering that I usually only leave my seat three or four times, I don't see how that can abnormal. I think it's more abnormal when people never leave their seats. It makes me wonder if they would rather pee on themselves than use a public toilet.

So here's a piece of advice to any of you who are planning on taking a long-haul flight: if you don't want to be disturbed by someone who needs to stand during a flight, don't ask for an aisle seat. And you might want to consider sharing your common armrest with the person sitting beside you. The woman I sat next to on my London-bound flight wouldn't share the armrest at all.

Now I know--next time I fly to the US or to any destination that will take longer longer than three hours to reach--I will book an aisle seat.

2010-08-21T19:25:00.000+02:00

My Other Blog...

A long time ago, I said I would start a blog where I review the books I read. Somehow, I never got around to it. Today, however, I finally managed to start it. The other blog is called Kim Talks Books and you can find it at http://kimtalksbooks.wordpress.com.

No, I am not abandoning this blog. I will still update this one at least once or twice a month (maybe more, depending on how I feel).

So go to my new book review blog and give me suggestions for how to improve it. I am still a novice at this stuff. :)

2010-08-08T19:25:00.000+02:00

Has Summer Moved On?

For the first time in a long time, we had warm, glorious weather in Stockholm for nearly five weeks without interruption. The temperature was moderate by American standards (roughly 80-85F) and sunny. And despite the fact that nearly everyone in Stockholm was out sunbathing or just simply enjoying the weather, nearly every Stockholmer I met couldn't prevent themselves from complaining about how hot it was (most unanimously agreed it was too hot, I thought it was just right) and moaned about wanting it to rain so the air would cool off.

Well, they got their wish.

It started raining on Saturday, and it's been raining on-and-off since then. According to the weather prognosis, we can expect more of the same well into next week. Now all those people who wished for rain are going around complaining about the very rain they wanted. I tell them, "You have yourselves to blame. You wanted rain..."

I don't like the rain--I know we need it, but Stockholm when it's raining is a depressing city. A nasty low pressure system smothers the city in murky clouds. Blech!

2010-08-08T09:14:00.000+02:00

Chica Chats

When I first moved here to Sweden, I didn't have many female friends. I think this was in part due to my trying to make as many Swedish friends as possible and realzing that this was sometimes an impossible task. What I didn't know when I first moved to Sweden was that most people have their clique of friends whom they've known since childhood and are loath to include members in said clique--unless you are the partner of someone within the clique. So, while you may work with them everyday and have lunch and go to after-works with them, they'll rarely ever invite you to their barbecues or dinner parties. Now, keep in mind, this is all based on my experience--which is pretty old now since I moved here in 1995 and I am thinking of that time period between 1995 and 1997 when I really wanted female friends (I had a great bunch back in Richmond and Philadelphia and I missed them all). Instead, my closest friends during that period were an Australian, an American with a Swedish name and an Irishman. It took three years for me to finally make enough female friends that I felt like now I had a nice group to hang out with. And in the beginnig, only one was a Swede, and she didn't hang out with us that often. Nearly all the girls who became the Chicas were from somewhere else and all of them had moved here because of a Swede or some other European who was living in Sweden and lured them here thanks to love.

Fast forward ten or eleven years to now and the main group of Chicas includes Maitechu, Sara, Nadia, Julie and Alessandra. There are a few peripheral members who drift in and out at leisure. There's one who's been axed from my list of chicas but is still included in the others' list, which on occasion has made things tense but she hardly ever associates with any of us anyway so it doesn't really affect us very much anymore.

In the past we Chicas met nearly every day. We'd congregate in cafés, restaurants and bars. We'd have pot luck at one another's apartments, we'd have movie nights. If you saw one, you were bound to see at least two others. Then something happened--yes, what inevitably happens when you have women in their late 20s-early 30s--they all started having kids. At first, this didn't affect things so very much. We still met quite often; we just had to base things around baby sleeping/feeding schedules. And this usually worked. But as the number of babies in the group increased, it became more difficult to find places with enough space for all of us, plus wee ones, plus wee ones' baby carriages.

I was the odd one out. I didn't have kids. Initially, not by choice. We'd tried, but it didn't work. There were early-term miscarriages. The desire to have a baby began to feel like it was killing our relationship--sex is no longer fun when you are only doing it because you're ovulating, it begins to feel like a chore that must be got through. And when you treat your husband like an on-demand sperm donor and not the guy you love, it just leads to problems. Plus, there was the little glitch that he was no longer sure he wanted to have kids. After over a year of trying, we gave up. We both realized we liked our life together as it was, even if it meant we would never have our own children. Trying to explain that to people was not always easy. But that is another story.

One thing I noticed with the arrival of so many kids was how the nature of our Chicaness changed. Suddenly we weren't these carefree women with careers and husbands/boyfriends who got together to talk about anything and everything. My friends were turning into moms who talked about their kids and kind of forgot that those of us who didn't have kids wanted to sometimes talk about something else. There were times when I opted out of meeting for coffees or pot-lucks because I was tired of being asked to admire ad nauseum someone's baby or agree that their child was the most wonderful/intelligent/fill-in-your-fave-adjective child in the world. At first, I didn't say anything. I thought this would pass. But when it didn't, and I was becoming more and more...not anti-social but anti-social-if-all-we-were-going-to-do-was hang-out-in-a-playground-all-day...well, I realized I had to say something. I loved my Chicas' kids; I didn't love not being able to talk to my friends because it was non-stop babytalk. I also didn't love sometimes being treated like my problems weren't real problems simply because I didn't have children.

So I told them how it felt. Most of them understood and realized that they sometimes went overboard with the baby stuff. One friend got annoyed and felt like she shouldn't have to avoid talking about what was the most important thing that had happened to her just because I didn't want to hear about it all the time. I had to remind her I didn't want her to stop talking about how great motherhood was for her. I just wanted her to occasionally talk about something else too. So for a couple of years, it was weird. I started doing things on my own because I didn't feel like trying to organize things around baby carriages or playgrounds.

Now the kids are getting older (a few new ones have arrived, one more on the way) and it's a little easier to meet. We don't see each other everyday like we used to but lately we've been trying to meet at least once a week so we can touch bases and reaffirm our Chicaness. Sometimes these meetings are kids-free, sometimes they aren't. But it's nice to have found a way back to one another even if we will probably never have that carefreeness that we had when we all first started hanging out together. But the nice thing about when we meet is that we talk, we give each other support, we are like sisters (or the sisters we wish we had).

Yesterday we had a nice chica chat at Vurma on Birger Jarlsgatan. It was one of those chica meetings that happens quite quickly and everythign falls into place very smoothly. Outside it was raining cats and dogs, but it was lovely to sit by the open window and feel the breeze, talk about our lives and enjoy good salads and sandwiches. While we were sitting there, I had this image of all of in our 60s, meeting, laughing, and being the same group of Chicas...it will be nice to grow old with these Chicas. :)

2010-05-16T14:37:00.003+02:00

Oh, to be in Hagaparken

Today I was in the mood for a stroll in Hagaparken so, after a quick cup of java and a pastry at Thelins in Frösunda, I walked over to the park. Part of the reason I decided to go to the park was because I've been reading tons and tons of complaints about the fence being built around Haga Slott. For those of you who don't live in Sweden, HRH Victoria, Crown Princess of Sweden, and her husband-to-be Daniel Westling will be moving into Haga Slott following their wedding on 19 June. The press (and lots of people who probably never walk in Hagaparken anyway) have been complaining about the fence being built for the crown princess's protection. Many have said there would be no way to walk around the fence--that it cut off the paths near the water and that people would no longer have access to Ekotempel and Gustav III's Pavillion. Well, having walked in that area today I can safely say that these stories are not true.

Yes, there is a fence around the castle and its grounds. No, Gustav III's Pavillion is not behind the fence--it's still open to the public as usual. The same is true for Ekotempel. Ditto for the paths along the water. In fact, the paths are better now, plus street lamps are being installed there so it will feel safer for those who like evening strolls. Also, new trees were being planted and the park felt much cleaner and nicer than it has in a while. What's interesting is that now that news of the Crown Princess soon taking up residence in the castle has spread, more tourists seem to be finding their way to the park, which is great. I have always loved Hagapark and I am glad that our foreign visitors are finally discovering it too. If you're in the mood to explore the park but don't know where to start, take a look at this map, which I found on SFV's website. It gives an overview of what you can find in this lovely English-style park. For more information on the park, check out this link.

Fjärilshuset is a gem in the park. I went there today, though just to sit for a while in the café and have a glass of juice before continuing my walk. The Butterfly House is a great place for anyone who loves butterflies and the wonder of having something akin to a rainforest in the middle of a park in chilly Stockholm. For the most part, it's perfect as it is. However, they really should improve their boutique. Most of what was for sale was very kitschy (and not in a good way). But I can overlook that since the butterflies and plants in Fjärilshuset are so magical.

I spent a little over an hour strolling today, enjoying the beauty of the park and its nature. It was the perfect way to end the weekend, even if it was a bit cloudy today.

By the way, the image above was taken by Holger Ellgaard. I forgot my camera at home...

2010-04-11T16:19:00.003+02:00

Spring has sprung...

Today is one of those days when I love living in Stockholm. After the initial grumpy reaction to what appeared to be another gray day, I was pleasantly surprised by a suddenly blue sky filled with spring sunshine. And a day like that means only one thing: Kafé Sjöstugan. Now, those of you who don't know about Sjöstugan, it's a quaint little café in Bergshamra on the shores of Brunnsviken. Tord and I like walking there whenever the weather is good and sitting in the sunshine with a cinnamon bun and a cup of coffee. You feel like you're in the countryside without actually having to be in the countryside. It's nice. Today was a nice, calm day--no snarky people in sight (always a good thing) and ducks waddling around quacking.

We could see evidence that spring has arrived--unfortunately I forgot my camera at home otherwise I would have posted a few pictures of sage beginning to become green again, tulips sprouting and crocuses in all their finery. The winter ice on Brunnsviken is receding and becoming a memory. Ducks and swans have returned. It was just a lovely afternoon. I almost dread when it gets warmer and the "weird" people show up--the girls from Östermalm who are "slumming it", who show up in stilettos and complain about their heels sinking in the soil, obnoxious porkchops (boys with oily-looking, slicked back hair who usually hang out around Stureplan) who brag in too-loud voices about their boats and VIP cards. Luckily, it's not that often when these "weird people" show up--but when they do, they disturb this idyllic little place. I like it when people from the area are there, people who go there because they like that the buns aren't always the same size, who come there because it is a place that sells organic products and who like the mismatched cups, who like the ducks and don't go "Üsch!" everytime something like a bumblebee or a sparrow comes near them.

Soon it'll be perfect weather for a long, long walk around Hagapark. And soon it'll be perfect boule weather. Ooh....and barbecuing...I am longing for that. :)

But for now, I am still wearing a fleece jacket and a scarf, longing for the day I can put on my shorts and sandals and enjoy a glass of rosé outdoors.

Spring...ahhh!

2010-04-02T17:25:00.003+02:00

YA Fiction and What I've Been Reading Lately

Lately I've been reading a lot of young adult fiction as research for a possible novel. Prior to getting this idea in my head a few months ago that I might want to try my hand at writing for the YA crowd, I hadn't really ready any books intended for that audience in ages--more like not since I was a YA.

What I remember of YA books from the late 1980s was that they were generally poorly written and were usually set in Sweet Valley, which was not my cup of tea at all. I didn't care about those Sweet Valley High teens with their perfect suburban lives. I wanted gritty fiction back then but it wasn't very easy to find. So I abandoned the notion of reading YA books pretty early and focused on horror fiction, mystery novels, anything I could get my hands on....and then one day I read Milan Kundera and I forgot all about the other books for a while. I had a holy trinity of writers back then: Milan Kundera -- Toni Morrison -- Ernest Hemingway. Actually, it was more a Holy Rectangle if you added Gabriel Garcia Marquez to the mix. So, my path to literary fiction was set and I turned into a literary snob (though I read frothy romance novels and chick lit in "secret").

And then one day, I sat trying to read a new Milan Kundera novel and the unthinkable happened--I was bored. I tried to read a Toni Morrison novel and couldn't get past the fourth chapter. I tried to read True at First Light (the "lost" Hemingway novel that his son edited and finished) and it did nothing for me. The only member of the Holy Rectangle who still swayed me was Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and I started wondering if it was only because he looks a little like my dad--now that's a weird notion. But I began reading more and more "pop fiction" and realized I preferred it to literary fiction and I abandoned my Holy Rectangle for a time.

Nowadays, I read everything. And this foray into reading contemporary YA fiction has been enlightening. Some of it is really good. Courtney Summers' Some Girls Are was one of those books that I couldn't stop reading. Maybe it was because it reminded me too much of how awful being a teenager can sometimes be. Jacqueline Woodson's If You Come Softly is also great. I loved how she portrayed the main characters, Jeremiah and Ellie, and their struggle to deal with their feelings for one another and how it affects the people around them.

I also read Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series but I just wasn't that impressed. I thought Bella was whiny and annoying. I thought Edward was a control freak with issues. I thought Jacob was snarky. I only went to see the movie because I figured it would be interesting to see if the characters were less annoying. The only thing I can say is Rob Pattinson is fit. I understand why girls scream for him. I know a lot of people try to say Twilight is a take on Wuthering Heights but I don't see that. And I don't buy glittering vampires nor stupid names for kids like Renesmee. I think Stephenie Meyer's The Host is a much better novel, though it drags at times. Still, I enjoyed it more than the entire Twilight series.

But back to YA fiction, I noticed that nearly all the YA fiction geared at black and Latino teenagers dealt with what are perceived as urban issues: teen pregnancy, drugs, gang violence, being abandoned by a parent. And this made me wonder just how many black and Latino teens really want to read about those issues. When I was a teen living in West Philadelphia/University City, I wasn't that interested in reading about drugs when I could see evidence of drug abuse around me--crack addicts were everywhere, all you had to do was take a walk along 40th Street and you'd inevitably see a few. Even though I wanted something gritty, I didn't want to be reminded of what was already around me. And it made me feel like publishing companies assume that all black and Latino kids live in big cities and are only interested in books warning us of the dangers of drugs, gangs, etc.

How about a book about a black kid trying to get into college? That was my teen experience. I lived a few blocks from my dream school and did everything I could to be accepted there but received a rejection letter anyway. I wasn't interested in what was going on around me in my neighborhood--I lived there but I knew I was going to leave there. So I have been looking for a YA novel that speaks to that teen experience but I haven't seen anything yet. I'll keep looking. Maybe I just have to write that book myself.

It's also interesting how few YA novels deal with interracial relationships, which is surprising considering that these relationships seem more prevalent (and accepted) among teenagers than adults. Is it because many authors are afraid of taking on the issue for fear of negative criticism? Or are the publishing companies playing it too safe? Or have I just simply not been looking in the right places?Well, maybe I will have to write one of these books myself.

I just have to finish writing the book I am working on at the moment before I launch into another project. But I do think that my next writing project will be a YA novel. I already have an idea forming and I've taken some notes. Who knows where it will lead me but I am glad that I found some YA novels that proved we've moved beyond Sweet Valley Hell when it comes to what teens are reading.

I also found a publishing company called Flux that specializes in YA fiction. I've read two books published by Flux, Ballad and Lament by Maggie Stiefvater, and they were riveting. Stiefvater's third book, Shiver, was published by Scholastic Press, which will also be publishing a sequel to Shiver called Linger in July. I loved Shiver. I thought Grace and Sam's story was heartbreaking. I could picture it in my mind and imagined which actors I saw playing the roles. But I am sure if they ever make a movie of it I will be disappointed with whichever actors are chosen--unless of course they are the same ones I imagined. But back to the book, it was so beautifully written, and whenever people try to sing the merits of Twilight to me, I just say one word: Shiver.

So I am anxiously awaiting Linger and trying to finish my own book, which I've decided I will probably self-publish, and trying to keep myself from starting another book. But I am also glad that YA fiction has moved away from the squeaky clean cheerleader type stories of my youth and on to more interesting subjects, even if I am tired of seeing books about black teens affected by gangs (which isn't the only experience black teens have, Mr and Mrs Publisher -- some of us were never affected by gangs at all and would love to read about something other than "urban issues"). At least we're seeing something other than the cookie cutter YA novels of my youth.

2010-03-21T21:21:00.003+01:00

Essence and Interracial Relationships...

A few months ago I decided to get a subscription to Essence since my mother always asks me if I've read the same articles she's read. Until recently, Essence wasn't a magazine that was very easy to find in Stockholm, Sweden. Whenever I looked for it on the racks of Pressbyrån in Gallerian on Hamngatan or Västermalms Gallerian at Fridhemsplan, it was either already sold out or never arrived on time. I bit the bullet and ordered a subscription that was more expensive than I would have preferred (expensive thanks to postage + shipping to Europe) and was very happy when I received my first issue two months ago. The articles were well-written and focused on issues that I was interested in: health, how and when we'll overcome the ridiculous "good" hair versus "bad" hair stigma, fashion, education and interviews.

The second issue was also great and featured an interesting, if a little vague, article about Susan Rice, the American Ambassador to the UN. I wanted to know more about her but the article felt a bit more like a teaser rather than the promised in-depth interview that would reveal what made Susan Rice tick.

Then I received my third and fourth issues and suddenly I found myself getting annoyed. The third issue annoyed me more because I felt like every article was flat. But what really rankled me was an article by a woman who was talking about why she gets angry when she sees black men with women of other races. The main point of her article was that black men who were involved with women of other races "didn't have their acts together" or were disrespecting black women. She mentioned black athletes who were together with white women or Asian women and said that their choice of spouse was a sign that "they didn't love or respect the women who raised them". While I could understand where she was coming from, I didn't agree with her and I felt like any good editor would have asked her to interview black men who were in interracial relationships and ask them why they were with their partners instead of basing her entire essay on her experience with men who were either "players" or men whose friends were just out to "hit it and then quit it".

As someone in an interracial relationship, I get very tired of people making assumptions about why I am together with someone of another race. I think a lot of us who are involved in interracial or multicultural relationships have had our share of racist or bigoted comments from the people around us. And while there may be people out there who only date someone of another race so they can have another notch in their bedpost or because they hate their parents or because they are ashamed of their skin color or whatever, I am not one of them and I don't think I am alone.

I am not stupid enough to think that everyone welcomes interracial dating. There are plenty of people who make it clear that they think anyone who dates or marries outside their race is betraying their race. And that was what rankled me most about this article. It repeated the very same racist arguments that used to be used against blacks. It also made it seem like every black man who dates a white woman was essentially saying he hated his mother. And then the writer said that black women had fewer options than white women so black men should show them respect and only date black women. I didn't really follow that logic. The only thing that limits us is ourselves. If we stop behaving as though we cannot look beyond skin color, then of course we are limited. Just because someone is a different ethnicity doesn't mean you won't have some common ground. But using skin color as a justification for not trying to get out there and meet people seems like a sad and lonely life.

There are people out there who think that dating someone white is a status symbol, akin to having the latest Gucci bag or driving a slick new SUV. Anyone who thinks that way obviously has maturity issues. Dating or marrying someone for the supposed status of their skin color is as ridiculous as the "good" hair/"bad" hair debate. And if a black man only dates black women who happen to have long hair or who are light-skinned --isn't that just as bad? He is objectifying the women then in the same way that he is if he exclusively dates someone simply because they are white.

Yes, America has a racist history but we are also a very diverse country. And the only way we can ever come to terms with what our ancestors suffered because of centuries of slavery, is to never let ourselves be enslaved again. But we can't use racism or perceived racism stop us or our children from making friends, from daring to dream of traveling to other countries or even going away to school. We have to accept that slavery will always be a part of our history, but we also we have to move on.

Jill Scott also wrote about "the wince" she feels when she sees what she calls "seemingly together black men" with white women. Sadly, she too seems to think that the only way a black man can have it together is if he is with a black woman. I don't really understand this. If he loves his partner, and she loves him, if they have a successful relationship and mutual respect for one another then isn't that more important than if they have the same skin color?

It's time for us to take our blinders off. It's time to remember what Dr. King said about how we should judge one another. I once said this to a relative whose rebuttal was "I'll bet Dr. King didn't want any of his kids marrying someone white." That might be true--we'll never know since Dr. King is no longer with us. But I have the feeling that, based on all his speeches and his essays, he would not try to stop one of his children from doing so if he felt that it was a relationship based on the principles of love, especially since he fought so hard for minorities to be treated as equals in the eyes of the law and society.

When I was a kid, my mother told me that when I fell in love, I should make sure the person I fell in love with would love and respect me. She told me it didn't matter what whether he was black or white or plaid, all she wanted was that her daughters found men who would be their equals in love. I couldn't have been more than nine years old when my mother told me this but I remembered it. She also used to remind me of Dr. Martin Luther King's words of judging people on the content of their character and not the color of their skin.

Many years later, after kissing a lot of frogs, I found a man who treated me like a queen, who respected my intellect and who loved me as intensely as I loved him. If I'd ignored him simply because he was white, I would have missed out on having a good man in my life.

So now I have to decide....do I keep my subscription to Essence, or do I ask them to cancel it. Well, I don't have to agree with every article but I don't like it when I read articles by people of influence (and let's face it, what we writers write influences others) seem to write without thinking deeper. Especially when the end result is an article that feels shallow and bigoted.

2010-02-22T08:58:00.002+01:00

Enough snow already!

We've had snow on the ground in Stockholm--and especially in the suburb where I live--since before Christmas. Back in December it was great. It felt so Christmasy with snow. Tord and I bought pulkas and went sledding non-stop, even on days when it was -15C, -20C. Now it's nearly March and it's still snowing. We've had a few mild days when the snow began to melt and then freeze again at night, which of course inevitably led to sleek ice everywhere and me falling so many times that I may as well scoot to work on my butt if it means I won't fall anymore. Needless to say, I am tired, tired, tired of snow!

Hey Mother Nature--enough already!!!

All I want now is to feel the air change and for spring/summer to come. I am tired of wearing heavy winter clothing. I want to get a pedicure and wear cute sandals. I want to leave my socks at home. I want to take my duffel coat to the dry cleaner's and then hang it in the closet for another season. I want warm evenings scented with blooming lilac and bird-cherry. I want to sit outside in the sun and enjoy a glass of rosé. I want to play boule!

Of course, even if spring were to arrive tomorrow, it would still not be warm enough to do all of these things. Stockholm springs are notorious for being rather rainy and chilly. And you can still have snow in April. Sheesh! But it's the idea of spring I want. And even though I am not one of these willowy girls in a floaty dress and heels (never have been, most likely never will be), I like the idea of me wearing a floaty dress and heels, traipsing along as birds chirp and flowers bloom and the whole world is in love with the idea of being in love.

So I want spring. And I want it now. And when spring finally comes, I'll want summer--especially if it's a nice, dry summer with long, warm evenings. I want a lot of things, don't I?

2010-01-07T20:50:00.003+01:00

Let's Dedicate This Post to Ron

Two things happened this week that are of great importance--one is awesome, the other is depressing. Let's take the bad news first. My mother called me on Sunday to tell me that my oldest niece's father had been killed. This is really awful news. Ron was a nice guy and a good father. Unfortunately, most people will always connect him with being the first homicide in Philadelphia in 2010. A homocide investigation is ongoing, but there's been no news I don't really understand how *anyone* justifies killing someone. I hope the police catch the suspect(s) and that justice is served.

This reminds me of a stupid slogan that was bandied around during the late 1980s-early 1990s: "Guns don't kill people, people kill people." Let's ignore the fact that this is a stupid slogan and revise it a bit: "People with guns kill people." Still not great, but it's certainly better than the NRA schpiel about guns not killing people. Every American knows there are too many guns on the streets of our cities. We've all heard the reasons people carry guns: to feel safe, to get respect, to defend their property... None of those reasons are good enough for me. The average person doesn't need a gun unless they hunt. And we know the statistics of how often guns in the home are not used to protect against burglars and home invasions but are used in crimes of "passion" and domestic violence. We also know there are way too many illegal firearms, that in many states it's too easy to gain access to firearms and that some banks are dumb enough to give rifles to new customers (now if that doesn't scream "rob us!" I don't know what does)...

But I digress...my sister Lisa and her daughter Mecca are in mourning. Ron's wife and family are in mourning. No one knows the motive for Ron's murder. But this is just another instance of the violence that has become a part of life in the US. I hate the fact that Ron's children have lost their father. I hate the fact that Ron is dead and he was only 42. I hate the fact that the person or people who did this are probably hanging out somewhere bragging about what they did.

So Ron...may you rest in peace, and may the person or person who ended your life be caught, tried and serve their time. And may they feel remorse for their actions.

Now...what was the other thing that happened? I turned 40, which according to some magazines is the new 30. All I know is that I am fantabulous.

2009-12-16T11:49:00.008+01:00

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

I wouldn't go as far as saying the weather is frightful--it's a little below 0C and there's a layer of snow on the ground--and I don't have a fire that I could say was delightful, but it's definitely beginning to feel a lot like Christmas here in Stockholm.

Of course, with the snow comes the usual problems of icy sidewalks--especially in downtown Stockholm where the snow has already melted and now frozen all over again. One of my colleagues fell yesterday on an icy Stockholm sidewalk and I nearly fell on my way to work. Yup, I alone found that perfect patch of ice hidden under a dusting of snow. But I was lucky--somehow I managed to stay on my feet despite looking like I was doing a slapstick routine for a few minutes. My colleague wasn't so lucky and now has a sore back and a big bruise. I've given her the link to Naprapathögskolan's student clinic--they really helped me the last time I hurt my hip and lower back so I think they'll be able to help her too.

According to the weather reports, we're in for a white Christmas--I hope this is true. We haven't had proper snow on Christmas Eve (at least in Stockholm) for at least four years. Last year was a boring snow-free Christmas. I want to go sledding...I want to make snow lanterns...I want to make snow angels and pelt Tord with snowballs.

I wonder if anyone else is dreaming of a white Christmas...

2009-12-08T17:21:00.003+01:00

Final Nanowrimo Update

Well, alas, another year of Nanowrimo and my brilliant plan for finishing on time went to hell in a hand-basket the moment I left for the US. I ended up with 35,000 words written. I am still working on the first draft because I want to finish something this year. Luckily, I really like the story even if it doesn't make much sense right now. I figure it will become sensible once I've finished the first draft and revised it.

Don't know when it will be finished, but I hope I am done with it by the end of December. My goal is to finish it by Christmas Eve. Then I can begin revising it during the new year.

That's it for now!

2009-11-15T20:08:00.003+01:00

And today...

...I passed the 25000-word mark in Nanowrimo. And my story suddenly shifted from Philadelphia to Los Angeles, which I hadn't expected since I am not particularly fond of LA. But then again, my experience with LA is over twenty years old...

So yes, my main character, Kyra, is now in LA, getting ready to interview the man who was once the love of her life. She is not sure how she feels about it. She wonders if seeing him again will rekindle the spark between them or if they've both changed so much they won't remember why they once loved one another.

We'll see where the story goes...

2009-11-10T16:21:00.004+01:00

And now at the start of week two...

...I have made it to 15000 words of my 50000 word "opus". I am pretty pleased though I still don't really know where my story will go. I am just enjoying the ride--a ride that is taking me from Philly now back to Philly in the 1980s. I have to rummage through my brain for some memories of what happened back in the mid to late 1980s. I remember the MOVE siege and the destruction of an entire neighborhood, Mayor Goode...Bill Greene figures in there somewhere too. Zipperhead... Tower Records opening on South Street... Abe's...yes, that must be there too... Rock Against Racism show on Penn's Campus... Spring Fling....hmm... a lot to add.

So if anyone else from Philly is reading this, drop a line about your memories of Philly from the 80s. Remind me of things as I take a stroll down that lane called Memory.

By the way, there are many Smiths references in this book. Who knew my main characters would be such Morrissey lovers?

2009-11-08T16:06:00.004+01:00

Yet Another Short Update...

As of now, I have 11,500 words. If I make it to 15,000 today I will be pleased, but I can settle for 13,500 too. It all depends on if my wrists start hurting. Plus, I need to check in with my mom, part of my Sunday ritual. I am sure I will hear lots about the transit strike in Philly. I wonder if it will be like last time--Philadelphians got so used to the strike that people didn't seem to care anymore that SEPTA was no longer available. I was there for about a week of the strike. My hubby and I would walk into town from 40th Street every day (which we always do anyway when we're in Philly) and muse over how many others were out walking and seeming to enjoy it.

Time to get back to my Nanowrimo masterpiece. So to the rest of the Nanowrimers out there: yay us! Let's keep the words flowing! :)

2009-11-03T13:48:00.003+01:00

Another short update...

As of 10PM last night, I have written 4088 words. The story is rambling, not very structured but I can see where I want to go so that's a good thing. I have to remind myself to write and not edit. Which is difficult. I usually do both at the same time. Or I try to make it perfect the first time around so that the revision process isn't so time-consuming or painful.

This time I am just writing and I don't care what it sounds like. I don't even read it after I reach my quota. I keep telling myself I won't read it until 1 December but that sounds rather unrealistic. I will probably begin reading it already this weekend...

2009-11-02T17:28:00.001+01:00

A short Nanowrimo update

As of last night, I've written 2500 words. I wanted to write more but my hands and eyes were tired. Going to aim for 2500 more words tonight.

Not sure where story is headed but I like it so far.

2009-11-01T09:15:00.002+01:00

The time is now...

...is the name of my new Nanowrimo novel. I started writing it around an hour ago. I am already at 1000 words so I am off to a good start. Yup, 1000 down, 49000 to go.

Yesterday I wrote a stellar post--I talked about writing and my Nanowrimo soundtrack and then I posted my top ten list of scary films with links to the original trailers--and then my broadband conenction went a bit insane and stopped working for a while and I lost the entire post. I am not going to try to repost it. I should have written it in Word and then cut and pasted it here...but in hindsight everything is apparent....

So now I am in the midst of Nanowrimo. As I said, the word count so far is 1000 words...

Will post another update tomorrow. :)

2009-10-25T20:23:00.004+01:00

One week until Nanowrimo starts...

...and I am trying to decide which of the three ideas I've come up with will be the one that is my Nanowrimo novel. I've written one-page synopses for all three but I am still no closer to narrowing it down.

Should it be a screwball romance (aka chick lit with a new name), supernatural romance...or plain old ghost story? I am already working on a ghost story of sorts but it's fun writing creepy stories so maybe I will go with my ghost synopsis since I am already in that state of mind.

On the otherhand, I love writing romantic stories and they are always a good way to forget abotu the winter darkness that has settled over Stockholm. I write this as I look out my window. It's hard to believe that just a few months ago the sun was still up at 8PM. Now it's as dark as midnight. I feel like a zombie. Yeah...I need a romantic story to get me over the November blues--especially since every year it's the same thing: I walk around like I am in a fog from late October until around the second week of December. The only thing that helps me emerge from said fog is chocolate or a trip somewhere south of here (where there are more hours of sunlight).

Since I am going to the US on the 21st of November, I have to try and get as much written as possible beforehand. I can officially begin writing my Nanowrimo novel on the 1st. I will just have to make sure that every day I meet my quota. I didn't manage to do this last year. The year before I came pretty close to it. I resolve to be better this year.

I wonder how many other people will join me in Nanowrimo madness. I already know of two people who will be giving in to the frenzy. Will have to check out the Nanowrimo forums and see how many people are already posting...

2009-10-06T10:56:00.002+02:00

Are you insane, Kim???

Soon it's that time again--comes around once a year--when I "torture" myself by trying to write a 50,000-word manuscript in a month. Yes, it's soon time for Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month for those not in the know) and I have signed up again. I have no clue if I will be successful. I always have good intentions. The first time I tried it I was one day late finishing my manuscript and the end result was actually not that bad. I am in the process of revising it.

Do I have a plot yet for my new effort? Nope! Any characters? Not yet. But I am sure some will come to me soon. Last year I didn't know what I wanted to write about until a few days before the official start. Let's hope I have better luck this year. Perhaps this year I will have an idea two weeks in advance!

I'll have a new word-count widget online soon so you can follow my progress if you want. And I will be much better this year at posting a weekly update to let you know how my madwoman's journey is going.

That's it for now!

2009-08-30T16:55:00.003+02:00

Where in the world has Kim been...? redux...

I know, I know. I promised I would update more often and then I haven't updated since the end of May. All I can say is that I have been busy. I did manage to take ten days of vacation in June, which I definitely needed. We went to Italy to celebrate Tord's birthday. This time, our travels took us to Bologna-Fano-Ravenna.

We started in Bologna and stayed at the wonderful Hotel Porta San Mamola. Our room had a lovely view of the lavender-scented garden, where you could also eat breakfast. If you want a calm place to stay with lots of small restaurants nearby, within walking distance of all the sights without feeling overwhelmed by all the other tourists, then this is the hotel for you. The staff recommended a restaurant called Il Sangiovese to us and we weren't disappointed. This restaurant has a good selection of local specialties and wines. Just thinking about how nice it was there is making me drool. I think I will have to return there soon.

The next day we departed for Fano, where we stayed at Villa Giulia, a cozy and romantic place in the hills above the city center. We booked a ground-floor suite that was set up like a mini-apartment. We even had our own little garden outside of our room where we could eat lunch in the sun and enjoy the scent of honeysuckle every afternoon. Our hostess Anna was a dog lover and all of her dogs were friendly. Our personal favorite was Lola, a shy black dog with lopsided ears who loved eating breakfast with us in the mornings and lunch with us when we returned from an afternoon spent at the pool or beach. We spent five days in Fano, enjoying the local seafood, the calm (it was still low-season for them) and the fantastic weather. One of our favorite activities was sitting on the terrace in the evenings, sipping limoncello and talking about everything and nothing. We were surprised we had very few mosquito bites by the end of our stay--maybe all the cute lizards running around ate them all.

Our next stop was Ravenna. We stayed at a fantastic bed and breakfast called M Club in Ravenna's historical center. Our room was large, airy and comfortable. It was so cozy we felt like it was our new second home and we're already talking about returning to Ravenna to stay there again. While in Ravenna, we quickly found a restaurant that became our favorite: Locanda del Melarancio. The food here was divine. If you're ever in Ravenna, you must go there. But we didn't just eat while we were there. We also toured many of the UNESCO World Heritage sites in Ravenna and marvelled at the beauty of the mosaics. They really have to be seen...what an incredible sense of history you get when you walk the streets of Ravenna and wander in its many beautiful churches...

So that was June... July was spent working, working, working. August has also been busy--though I did attend the Oriflame Gold Conference in Rome, which was pretty cool. Now summer feels like it's leaving Stockholm and we've already planned our next weekend trip: London (again) to see another musical ("The Lion King"). I can't wait! :)

2009-05-22T10:41:00.010+02:00

Totally Wicked...

Last week Tord and I celebrated ten years of being married and we celebrated this week by going to London to see the musical, Wicked at the Apollo Victoria Theatre. What? You never heard of Wicked? Well, crawl from under that rock and rush to your nearest box office and find out if it's playing in a city near you. This musical was fantastic...it was totally wicked!

Based on the Gregory Maguire novel of the same name, Wicked tells the behind-the-scenes story of Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, and how she went from being your average green-skinned girl to the most feared woman in Oz. Along the way, we find out about the Wizard and his true intentions and whether Glinda is as good as she seems.

I liked it so much, I could see it again... Tord and I have now decided that we want to go to London again and see another musical. We're veering towards The Lion King. We're not sure when will do this again but I think it will be sooner rather than later.

So we were in London and we stayed at the Rockwell in Kensington, which was a very nice neighborhood to be in. Our room faced busy Cromwell Road but with triple-plated windows we didn't hear any traffic at all. Perfect! My only complaint about the hotel is that I wish there'd been a thick mattress pad on the bed since the mattress itself was a bit too firm. Our hotel was a short walk from the Hummingbird Bakery (such yummy cakes there!) and Harrods. Yes, we were touristy and went to Harrods--but only to buy tea for my father-in-law and Bendicks Bittermints. And we had a great pub, the King's Head, just around the corner. They had great burgers there...and the London Pride I drank was perfect...

We were supposed to cap off our belated anniversary festivities with dinner at Quaglino's. It's been ten years since the last time we were there and we thought it would be nice to go there and eat their infamous saddle of lamb--sans the annoying people who were with us the last time we were there. Unfortunately, Fate (or maybe someone famous, who knows?) stepped in and--when we arrived at the restaurant, there was a sign on the door stating the restaurant was closed "due to unforeseen maintenance issues". Sounds cryptic, right? Now, we started wondering...why such a cryptic sign? Why didn't the restaurant call us since they had Tord's cell phone number to let us know they wouldn't be open? Interestingly enough, on the same day, the Speaker of the House of Commons, Michael Martin, announced his retirement following the big MP greed scandal. We started wondering if this had something to do with it...then we wondered if some Royal was having a "do" there... then again, maybe there was a maintenance issue--but we could see the staff in the restaurant and they were putting up what appeared to be decorations...hmmm...

In the end, we went back to our hotel. We ate at the restaurant there and the lamb rack and minty potatoes I had were fantastic. Tord had fish and chips that were also yummy. So the day was saved by the Rockwell's restaurant and yummy food, and we went back to our hotel room feeling sated and happy.

And if you're on the King's Road in Chelsea and you like ballerina flats and beer, then here are two places you should visit: for the ballerina flats go to French Sole and for the beer go to the Cadogan Arms and have a pint of Broadside.

And now when it's cloudy in Stockholm...man, I wish I were back in London...

2009-04-30T09:49:00.005+02:00

Where in the world is Kim...?

I know, I know...it's been a while. And what have I been up to since I last posted? Well, I went to Madrid for a long weekend. Madrid was great--I have fallen in love with Valencian paella and jamón ibérico de bellota...I still dream of it...ooooh it was so good...:9 I think I will have to make another trip to Madrid soon...

I also moved from Vasastan to Frösunda. A lot of people thought I would not like living in Frösunda since it's not "in town". Apparently there is this assumption about me that I will melt or self-destruct if I don't live in a downtown area. I guess it's because almost everything I like is in town or because--until recently--all of my friends lived in town. Or maybe it's because they know that when I lived in the US I lived within walking distance of Center City in Philly and I lived in downtown Richmond.

What most people forget is that the majority of the time I've spent in Sweden has been spent living outside of Stockholm's downtown area. When I moved here in 1995, I lived in Norsborg. After a year, Tord and I moved to a sublet in Bagarmossen, and we loved it there. It was close enough to town (within 15 minutes you were at T-Centralen) and we had Nacka Nature Reserve just around the corner from our apartment. Our apartment in Bagarmossen was well-planned and was in a quiet area that was just a five-minute walk from the subway. We had three great years there and then the lease on our sublet was terminated. From 1999 to 2002 we lived in Storvreten in Tumba. In fact, we moved into our apartment a month before we got married. [By the way, my 10th wedding anniversary is on the 12th so feel free to send presents...;)] We didn't love Storvreten but it was nice until we started having problems with insane neighbors and crime. We were also tired of dealing with commuter train delays, falling on icy hills that were never sanded during the winter and having to spend oodles of money on taxis when we missed the last train home.

So it wasn't until May 2002 that we moved to Vasastan. We loved Vasastan--it had (and still does) everything we liked. The only thing Vasastan didn't have was a two-bedroom apartment we could afford. We settled for a one-bedroom that was fine initially. It was in a good location on Västmannagatan, had lovely crab apple trees in the garden and was in close proximity to my favorite cafés, my job and my friends. What it didn't have was closet space or a room where I could write. Eventually we decided we needed to move but we couldn't afford anything in Vasastan since the prices had skyrocketed to the point of insanity.

We decided to check out Frösunda, and we both fell in love with the area. We have a nice-sized 2-bedroom apartment with a large balcony and it's just a 5-minute walk from Hagaparken, which is quickly becoming my favorite place in Stockholm. And we have found a café called Sjöstugan (Thanks, Marti, for introducing me to this place when you had all of us writers at your house for a retreat!) where we love sitting outdoors in the shade of a lovely old tree while Brunnsviken's lapping waves lull us. They make yummy cinnamon buns...

So have I gone insane because I no longer live in town? Nope. On the contrary, I think I have become much calmer. And both Tord and I agree that we can see ourselves living here for a long time. We've even said that--should we ever decide that we need a new apartment--we want to find one here in Frösunda. So I think it's safe to say that we found our happy place.

But there is one thing that I will miss and that is New York Stories. Sadly, my favorite bookstore (owned by my friend Margaret) is closing. Today the shop is closing its doors for good. This saddens me because I know how much of Margaret's heart and soul went into the store. I know that those of us who were regulars mourn the closing of NYS but we wish Margaret well. And I have the feeling that sooner or later she'll have something new planned for us...at least, I hope she will. But I will miss sitting outside NYS during the summer and eating icecream, and I will miss taking care of the shop when Margaret had to go out of town or had something else planned. And I'll miss gossiping with Margaret across the counter. But I think we'll just move the gossiping to Caffé Como.

2009-02-14T09:12:00.003+01:00

Where have you been, Kim?

Well, the answer to that question is very simple: I've been preparing to move.
In two weeks, Tord and I will be leaving Vasastan for Frösunda. A few weeks ago, we sold our two-room apartment for a good price. Preparing for the openh ouse was insane. Our real estate agent told us to remove as much clutter and personal items as possible--which sounds simple enough until you're actually in the midst of it and you feel like you're having a nervous breakdown.

It started off with getting rid of lots of old magazines and books I hadn't read in ages. That part was not so difficult. It didn't take longer than an hour and it was cathartic to send them to the recycling bin.

Then came step two: going through old clothing and letting go of things you know you'll never wear again but just can't seem to get rid of...somehow in the midst of this I lost one of my favorite ballerina flats--yes, I have one shoe left. I don't know where the other one is. This veered me off track for over an hour as I went through all the bags looking for the missing shoe. Did I find it? No. Do I think I'll find it once I've given up and thrown away the other shoe? Yes. Most likely.

While I was making a huge mess that eventually had to be cleaned up, Tord was trudging up and down the stairs to our storage unit in the attic. I don't know how many trips he made, but at one point he said,"I am NOT going back up there again..." I knew from the stern expression on his face not to press my luck.

Now while all of this was going on, I was also attempting to paint the hall white. When it was done, I wanted to cry. It's such a boring color--can you even really call white a color when it is so god-awful bland? Even now, a month later, I still walk into the hall and think, "Usch...white."

But even with all the sneezing from dust and sore muscles from lifting heavy boxes and grumbling about how all of this was the world's biggest pain in the ass, it's amazing how different our apartment looks. I would take a picture and post it if I knew where my digital camera was. It feels like a completely different place and I think the new owners will be very happy here.

And the great thing was that we didn't even have an open house--the couple who bought our apartment requested a private viewing and the deal was done within a matter of hours! This pleased me immensely. I wasn't looking forward to the open house and the usual crowd who turn up. I've been to enough open houses in Stockholm to know how little regard most people show for your furniture, etc when they're there. They cock their feet up on your coffee table, sit on the arm of your sofa, lounge around like they own your place and it annoys me. Granted, I am easily annoyed but bad behavior is not something I can stomach.

I will miss living in Vasastan--it's a fantastic place to be, but the real estate prices were just too high when we decided we wanted a larger apartment. But every time I go to my soon-to-be-home of Frösunda I get a good vibe from it. I think we'll be happy there and I can't wait to finally have a room where I can write...

And, by the way, I was too busy in November to even come close to finishing Nanowrimo. Maybe next time...

2008-11-01T11:09:00.004+01:00

Time to Nanowrimo

Every year it sneaks up on us--the first day of Nanowrimo (or National Novel Writing Month to the uninitiated). I signed up for it weeks ago and then got so busy at work and getting my submission packages ready for agents that I forgot all about sitting down and thinking up a plot. Pretty smart, right?

Well, this morning I woke up at six and was unable to return to dreamland. Suddenly I realized I'd dreamed the plot of my novel--my Nanowrimo bonanza! I got up, pulled out a notebook and began scribbling down a synopsis of the first three chapters. Then I turned on my moody computer (it's been moody since I went to Matera with it--I forgot lock my hard drive and it keeps beeping at me now when I turn it on or it takes forever to get going) and wrote 1500 words. Yay me!

So now I shall keep chugging along with my Nanowrimo novel, which will be called Be Mine. I've got my iPod playlist ready for when I am writing and it features Robyn, Kate Nash, Maria Mena, the Whitest Boy Alive and Moloko, just to name a few. :)

Now the question is will I be able to write 50,000 words by November 30? I don't know but I will damn sure try.

The rest of you can follow my progress if you like. I am going to put a widget on my blog with a word count update. I'll fix it either today or tomorrow.

Of course, you could always sign up now and try Nanowrimo yourself....

2008-10-19T15:05:00.003+02:00

Catching up...

I haven't posted in ages--partly because I have been very busy but als0 because I just wasn't in the mood.

Since I last posted, I have started a new job, attended the Women's Fiction Festival in Matera where I met a lot of new people like Brenda, Aleka, Cassy, Lori, Sarah Jane, Cynthia and Regina--just to name a few. I've also started outlining what may be my Nanowrimo 2008 novel. I need to tweak the outline a bit, but it has a good feel to it.

So where do I work now? I work for a cosmetics firm called Oriflame as the copywriter for the fragrances section. I started in September so now I've been working there for a little over a month. It's a great place to work and I really like my colleagues. Annika Shelly, a former member of SWG, told me about the position and really rallied on my behalf. I think I owe her loads of Belgian beer for that. :) Now Karin, who is also an SWG member and my writing buddy, has joined the team as the copywriter for the accessories line.

Now while I was in Matera I met Lori Avocato, who writes romance and mysteries, and her cousin Alice. We had dinner together the first night I was in Matera. She's such a nice person so I urge anyone who reads my blog to check out her website and blog! One of the other writers I met while in Matera was Aleka Nakis, who is just too funny. :) We enjoyed many meals, glasses of wine and loads of coffee at Bar Sedile (aka Franco's) together. Visit her website and get to know her!

Finally, I pitched my novels to agents and editors while I was in Matera. Several requested partials from me, which I will be sending out this week. One agent, Sarah Jane Freymann didn't request my work but we had a great time chatting and I hope we can meet when I am in the US in December for coffee-talk.

That's it for now. I need to get back to writing.

P.S.
Maria Mena has a new album out. You should buy it.

2008-08-07T11:35:00.003+02:00

Rain, rain go away...

It's been raining almost non-stop since Sunday evening, and I am so tired of it. It feels like my brain is waterlogged it's been raining so much. So today's post isn't going to be particularly scintillating. I figured I'd keep you up-to-date on what I've been reading all summer...
So here it is--Kim's Summer 2008 Reading List (in no particular order):

The Witches by Roald Dahl (read this with a ten-year old I was teaching)
Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisha Pessl (torn, don't know if I really liked this book)
Chasing Harry Winston by Lauren Weisberger (purely escapist reading that was sometimes fun, sometimes annoying)
The Anonymous Venetian by Donna Leon (I love all of her books)
Comfort Food by Kate Jacobs (lots of fun to read but you'll be very, very hungry...)
How to Walk in High Heels by Camilla Morton (fun book on everything we chicas need to know)
The Mission Song by John le Carre (fantastic, disturbing, highly recommended)
Angels Fall by Nora Roberts (a little romantic suspense to get me through this rainy period in Stockholm)

I've probably read more books but I can't remember. I know I read two books while we were in Italy but I've forgotten what they were called and I left them at the hotel once I finished reading them.

Hmm...not much today. Well, maybe I'll feel more creative next time. But while I am writing, I can tell you I'll be in Italy again in late September for the Women's Fiction Festival. I'm really looking forward to it. Some of the chicas in my writers' group went to it last year and found it insightful. Now I'm sold--I'm going on September 24.

2008-07-18T18:45:00.002+02:00

Happy Anniversary!

No, it's not my wedding anniversary--that was back in May. As of today, it's exactly thirteen years since I first moved to Sweden. Heja Kim! :) I can still remember how nervous I felt in the weeks leading to my leaving Richmond, Virginia and moving here. Part of the time I walked around in a daze. It helped that I was working at the time for a department at VCU that did tele-research for the various state authorities. Between 3 and 6 hours a day I called people, who found all of us who were calling them and asking them to answer health questions on behalf of Virginia's health department exceeding annoying or just too nosy.

In between phone calls, I fretted over if I had enough money saved up (I didn't), would I like my new job in Sweden (well, the first one fell through before I even arrived but another one eventually came along), would Tord and I be able to stick it out when we were finally together on a full-time basis or was it a case of absence making the heart grow fonder (didn't need to worry about that). In short, I was terrified but I think I did an okay job of pretending I had no doubts at all because sometimes I even fooled myself.

On the day I was supposed to leave the US, Andrew, Inge, Paula and Mona took me to Dulles and they kept me from sinking too often into my own thoughts. When we arrived, the KLM check-in personnel informed me my flight had been canceled and that everyone booked on the Sunday flight to Amsterdam was being put up in rooms at the airport hotel. This hiccup was enough to rattle me. I hadn't planned for this, didn't have any phonecards or credit cards (I'd gotten rid of all my American cards by that point) but Inge gave me her phonecard so I could call Tord and let him know I would be a day late arriving in Stockholm.

As it turned out, I was two days late arriving in Stockholm. The flight I was scheduled to take the next day was several hours late leaving Dulles so I missed my connecting flight from Amsterdam to Stockholm. I ended up having to spend the night in Amsterdam, which should have been fun but I was so focused on getting to Stockholm and to Tord that I had no real interest in anything else. Besides, by the time my flight landed in Amsterdam, it was nearly one in the morning and the only thing I wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed. So much for excitement and adventure!

I tried to sleep but I spent more time tossing and turning, reviewing the three years I'd spent in Richmond, my life PT (pre-Tord) and how I was embarking on seriously major change. I was twenty-five and I was taking this huge step--moving to another country and leaving everything behind--and I suddenly understood why my mother was so worried about me and what I was doing. I didn't know anyone else in Sweden other than Tord and his family. I didn't have a support network in case things went horribly wrong. If I fell, there was nobody to catch me. And it was both thrilling and frightening.

But thirteen years later, I can say I have survived a hell of a lot of ups and downs in Sweden. Tord and I are still together and I can honestly say that--if I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't change a thing.

2008-07-13T14:23:00.004+02:00

Late Afternoon Thoughts Regarding Vi i Vasastan

Yesterday I was reading Vi i Vasastan, which is the local weekly paper for the section of Stockholm where I live, and came across an article called "Vasastaners Best at Complaining" or something like that--I don't have the article in front of me since I already recycled my copy of the paper. The article focused on things we Vasastaners complain about the most.

Many of the people they interviewed made some valid points. One of the complaints I agreed with was the rat problem in Vasaparken. At one point a few year ago, Vasaparken was so overrun with rats that I didn't want to sit in the grass for fear that one would jump in my bag and come home with me. Yuck! This year it doesn't seem to be as bad as it was last year and the year before, but--then again--I haven't been hanging around so much in the park since I'm not on vacation yet.

I think the rat problem wouldn't be so bad though if people who have picnics and barbecues in the park were better at cleaning up after themselves instead of assuming the Park Authority will have time to clean up for them. Too often (when I've been in the park) I've seen people who show up with takeaway lattes and food, revel in the great weather and then (instead of taking their containers to the nearest trash cans or taking their refuse with them) leave their leftover food on the grass--didn't their parents ever tell them to pick up after themselves? So to paraphrase an old anti-littering campaign from the US, "Give a hoot, don't pollute! Never be a dirty bird! In the city or in the woods, help keep Vasaparken looking good!"

Another problem someone mentioned was the lack of food halls here. The closest we have to one is PrisExtra, which is not really my idea of a food hall like Reading Terminal in Philly or Östermalmshallen in Stockholm's Östermalm district. There's Vi Vasahallen but it's more like a supermarket that has a few luxury items. Of course, on the plus side we have some nice specialty shops like Vasastan Ost, A Tavola, Delicatessen Chez Jean Yves, Fiesta Deli, just to name a few. Plus a couple of good fishmongers (I've forgotten their names but one is on the upper part of Dalagatan and the other is on Karlbergsvägen in Birkastan). But anyway, they're not all under the same roof but we can always look at it from the bright side that we're getting exercise as we stroll along Upplandsgatan in search of good French cheese or Odengatan to collect some yummy smoked mozzarella.

One other problem was that people don't like parents of small children or parents pushing prams around the town. Well, I don't have a problem said parents (so long as they don't do disgusting things like change their kids' smelly diapers at the table beside me--that's why they have customer bathrooms, or allow their kids to run wild in places where people go for peace and quiet). I do have a problem with people who push prams and take up the entire pavement by walking beside their prams instead of behind them. I also don't like it when people with huge prams ignore the signs café owners put up asking them to leave their prams outside since there is limited space inside. Too often, I have been hemmed in by people with baby sedans blocking already crowded aisles in small cafés. The owners of these baby sedans then get annoyed if you so much as nudge their gigantoprams out of the way or ask them to move them aside.

Someone once accused me of only feeling this way because I was envious of people who have children since I don't have any (and probably never will have any). I don't think this is the case. I just think that often parents with prams don't think when they are in public space. Why do they need to walk beside their prams on crowded pavements when a pram is designed so that the person pushing it should be behind it? Why can't they understand that restaurants and cafés need to keep aisles clear so that their patrons and staff can move freely? Why do they suddenly decide to change a dirty diaper at their table instead of going into the restroom? No one wants to smell baby poop, let alone see it, when they are eating.

So to the young woman who said that people in Vasastan don't like parents of small children, said children or people pushing prams--those are some of the reasons why people don't like prams (and the people pushing them) in Vasastan.

Anyway, one of the main points in the article was that people who live in Vasastan are good at writing letters of complaint to the local authorities. And that these letters of complaint have often worked in improving things in the area. Good to know venting can lead to progress! ;)

2008-06-23T23:40:00.003+02:00

Arrivederci Gli Azzurri, Ciao...

Well, Spain beat the Boys in Blue...for the first time in--did they say 88 years??? Ah well, it was fun while it last. So now Spain will meet Russia on Thursday in Vienna, and the winner of that match will meet the winner of the Germany/Turkey match. Still, there will always be a soft spot in my heart for Gli Azzurri, and I will always cheer for them.

On to other things--I am reading a very spooky book called Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill, who just happens to be the sun of Stephen King. Just the first few chapters were eerie enough to give me the willies. Well, let's just say it gave me nightmares last night...so it must be good!

Other books I've read in the last few weeks include:
--The Host by Stephenie Meyers (really liked it)
--Whiskey Road: A Love Story by Karen Siplin (loved it)
--Frenemies by Megan Crane (liked it)
-- Certain Girls by Jennifer Weiner (liked it)

Once I finish Heart-Shaped Box, I will concentrate on my own writing. I have a deadline to meet with my writing coach. I also need to decide if I am actually going to the US in August or if I'll wait until the end of November. So difficult to make up my mind sometimes.

BTW, I saw Sex and the City tonight with some girlfriends and it was a lot of fun. I was never really very addicted to the show but I did watch the final season and found myself missing the show. I knew the movie didn't receive rave reviews, but it was exactly what I was in the mood for: something light, fluffy and completely escapist. I've got two free movie tickets burning a hole in my bag so I need to find another movie to use them on. Maybe I'll see another movie tomorrow. Should check SF's schedule.

I also need to start doing yoga at home again since this is the last week for Friskis och Svettis yoga until sometime in August. It's soon July and practically everything in Sweden comes to a standstill as everyone disappears for four to five weeks of summer vacation. It's the perfect time of year to ride my bike in town--everyone's away and I have the streets to myself. But I was hoping to get back into the swing of my yoga classes since my work schedule interfered with the afternoon Ki-Yoga and Ki-Balans classes I was taking at F&S. My brain must have been on vacation when I assumed I'd be able to do so in July--after nearly thirteen years of living here, I know everything stops for a month. Good thing I have a yoga DVD I can do. I just prefer doing my yoga class with other people. I am not very good at doing these things on my own.

2008-06-19T11:34:00.003+02:00

Forza Italia Redux!

Italy beat France and are moving onwards! On the 22nd at 20:45 they meet Spain in the quarter-finals. This is getting exciting--has Gli Azzurri recaptured their fighting spirit? I sure hope so! Unfortunately, I missed most of the France-Italy match but I am still pleased as punch that they're in the quarter-finals and I hope they win against Spain.

Last night, the Swedes lost to the Russians. I have no clue what is wrong with Lagerback and the Swedish football team. The only player who even shows real inspiration is Zlatan. I still remember that gorgeous goal he made against Greece...now that was sheer poetry. If only the rest of the team could have gotten it together enough to push Sweden forward. Remember back in 1994 when the World Cup tournament was held in the US for the first time and Sweden won the bronze medal? The team played so well together and instead of just passing, passing, passing and trying to be democratic all the time, they took risks--they shot even when they weren't sure if it would secure a goal. Maybe they need to review footage from back then and try to remember how good they were.

Maybe Sweden needs a new coach. Can't we lure Marco van Basten to Sweden? Look what he's done with the Dutch team? They are so fast, so superior--it's...well, Sweden's just not even in the same category.

But now...if Italy meets Holland again in the finals... shiver... now that would make for a nail biter of a game...

2008-06-15T21:49:00.003+02:00

Forza Italia!

I was certain I'd have time to update before I went on vacation but work (and other things) got in the way. Now it's nearly the end of June--here in Sweden we'll soon be celebrating Midsommar (that's "Midsummer" to the English-speaking world though I am sure you could figure that out) and everyone will be drinking far too much aquavit and singing about "small frogs" as they dance around the maypole (though it is June)--and here I am updating after close to a month of nothing, nothing, nothing.

The hubster and I went to Italy for nine days to celebrate his birthday and to throw ourselves completely at the mercy of la cucina italiana. And, boy oh boy, did we enjoy! Early on, we decided we wanted a Slowfood trip and planned our itinerary around cities renowned for Slowfood, namely Milano, Cremona, Parma and Bologna. Milano and Cremona are part of the region in Italy known as Lombardia (or Lombardy in English), while Parma and Bologna belong to Emilia-Romagna. Parma and Bologna are often referred to as the food meccas of Italy, and both cities live up to their culinary reputations.

We only spent one day in Milano. We spent several days there a few summers ago, and neither Tord nor I were very interested in shopping or spending too much time in a large city. Instead, we spent the night at the Jolly Hotel Milano Machiavelli, which was quite nice and very conviently located--just a ten-minute walk from Milano Centrale train station, and left the following morning for Cremona. While in Milano, we didn't really partake of any Slowfood there. We were too tired and still rather full from the pizza we ate for lunch. We made up for it in the remaining cities.

Cremona, which is a little over an hour's train ride from Milano, is a fantastic place to visit in early June. While we were there, the city was in the midst of its Poesia Festival. Every evening there were free concerts in the city's piazzas. We enjoyed an al fresco concert by Misia, a Portuguese fado singer with a fantastic voice. It was the perfect way to cap our evening, which started with dinner at La Sosta, a renowned Slowfood restaurant on Via Vescovo Sicardo 9. By the way, the food was stellar there. You will not be disappointed if you go there. Speaking of food, the Cremonese salami is so delicious that you will want to eat it every day...preferably with some really good bread, a hunk of cheese and a good bottle of wine (all purchased at Formaggi d'Italia, a charcuterie just around the corner from Cremona's duomo). In case you're interested, we stayed at the Hotel Delle Arti, which is around a twenty-minute walk from the train station, and we really enjoyed our stay there. Our only complaint about the hotel is that check-out is at 10 AM, but then again it meant we could take an early train to Parma and the train wasn't crowded, so maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

Next, we continued on to Parma, another short train ride via Fidenza. We spent four days there and loved it. We stayed at the wonderful Palazzo Dalla Rosa Prati, in the Ermione suite. What we really liked about this hotel was its great location (right on Via al Dumo), the coziness of our suite/apartment, and the first-class service we received from the friendly staff there. We tried out several restaurants but our favorite was La Forchetta, which was just around the corner from the palazzo. The duck (my choice) and black bass (and Tord's choice) were so delicious we still dream about it. We also tried Trattoria del Tribunale, and enjoyed their local specialities! Thank God Parma is a very pedestrian-friendly town--we needed to do a lot of walking considering how well we ate there. Since we had a kitchenette in our room, we made our own breakfast every morning and ate lunch there every afternoon. We got in the habit of walking along Via Cavour, crossing Piazza Garibaldi and traipsing along Via Farini until we came to what became our favorite enoteca. We bought all of our provisions there and the lovely ladies who run the place were always so friendly and patient with us (especially considering our poor Italian skills). I hope we'll return to Parma--it was a great place to visit.

Our final stop was Bologna. The last time we visited Bologna was in January 1999--we were poor and couldn't really afford to enjoy everything the city had to offer. This time, we had enough money to eat more than lackluster tourist food. We indulged in everything the Bolognese cucina had to offer at restaurants like Trattoria da Gianni (on Via Clavature 18, recommended in our Slowfood guide and well worth it) and Marco Fadiga Bistrot (on Via Rialto 23/C--not in our Slowfood guide but it ought to be). We stayed at Il Convento dei Fiori di Seta, an intimate boutique hotel in a converted convent on Via Orfeo 34. The beds are incredibly comfortable at this hotel, and the location is in a residential neighborhood in the southern corner of the historical district.

By the way, while you're in Bologna, you should definitely see Santo Stefano, a fantastic church made up of seven religious edifices. According to legend, it was built by Saint Petronius over the remains of an Isis temple. Don't miss it!

Returning to Stockholm after such a gratifying trip was difficult. I was in a bit of a funk last night and this morning at being back. Now I am happy to be home again (though if someone were to offer me a free ticket back to Italy I'd take it in a heartbeat). I will have to live on the memories until we have the time and the money to sneak away again...

By the way, if anyone has any theories as to why Gli Azzurri is doing so poorly in the Euro Cup, I'd love to hear them. I remember when they won the World Cup, defeating then-champions France. We were in Rome the same day Gli Azzurri arrived home with the Cup and remember the anticipation, the heat and the all-night celebrations. I don't think there will be such celebrations this year... I just wonder what happened between then and now since the team doesn't seem to be playing as well together as usual.

2008-05-16T18:25:00.002+02:00

I could use a Calgon Take Me Away Moment....

Lately I have been feeling a tad bit miffed and I am not exactly certain of the reason. Little things annoy me, things that never really bothered that much me before.

Things like:

people who try to hog up two seats on the subway or bus and pretend they don't hear you asking them to move their bag/ugly chihuahua/sweater
being forced to listen to annoying ring tones from other people's phones--especially when those ring tones go on and on and on
people who try to jump queues and--when you call their attention to your presence--brush it off by saying "I didn't see you..."
used packages of snus smeared on windows/walls/desks (ewww)
teenagers who spit everywhere all the time

I could go on--the list must have at least thirty more entries but I won't bore you with them.

I can only take this as a sign that I am either turning into my mother or getting old (or both). Now, Mom, should you ever read this, there is nothing wrong with me turning into you but I rather like being me. Of course, it could also simply be a symptom of the usual snarkiness that comes when I am tired (working way too much lately), in desperate need of a vacation (just a few more weeks to go and we're on our way to Italy again) and/or PMSing. Take your pick--all of the options sound plausible.

So what happened to all that wonderful positivity I had a few months ago? Well, my current work schedule hasn't really allowed me to go to yoga in the afternoons and in the evenings I am too tired to do so. When it comes to working out, it's got to be done early in the day or in the afternoon--I want my evenings free, especially when I come home from work and I want to unwind with the hubster. I have tried doing yoga on my own at home but I need company. I am like a dog in that respect. I probably won't have time for my afternoon yoga sessions again until June, which is frustrating, because I miss going to them. If I am lucky, I'll have time next week (should there be any cancellations).

So maybe this snarkiness re-invading my body is the result of no yoga and no Ki-Balans? That's plausible too, isn't it?

All I know is that there is nothing worse than hearing this griping voice come out of your mouth and it sounds suspiciously like the old people I used to giggle at when I was a teenager.

Calgon, take me away...

2008-04-30T19:25:00.002+02:00

The Kings of Convenience....Aren't Coming to Stockholm...

After weeks of being giddy about Erlend and Eirik coming to Stockholm, Fate pulled the rug from under me. Yesterday, I found out that the Kings of Convenience concert at Nalen had been cancelled. Hanna and I had been planning on seeing them; we'd booked our tickets and were looking forward to grooving while sipping cocktails and dancing. But alas--it was not to be.

Why? Erlend broke his arm while running in a competition. Let's hope his bones heal quickly and he feels better soon. Hanna and I hope that, once Erlend's arm has healed, he and Eirik will reschedule the concert and we can finally experience KoC live.

So while we wait, we'll listen to our KoC and Whitest Boy Alive cds, wait for more sunny days and wish Erlend a speedy recovery.

We're patient women, we can wait...

2008-03-29T11:33:00.003+01:00

The Kings of Convenience are coming...to Stockholm!

Yesterday morning I was checking my mail when I received an email saying one of my fave bands was coming to Stockholm. I was a little groggy so I didn't think much of it until I was out in the fresh air (well, maybe not so fresh since I was walking down Sveavägen) and I saw a guy putting up posters for upcoming concerts at Nalen.

And then I saw it...Kings of Convenience...Nalen 4 May...

The first thing I did was call Tord and babble, "The Kings are coming, the Kings are coming!"
His response: "Okay...cool."
Me: "We have to go!"
His response: "Okay."
Me: "Really? You'll go if I arrange tickets?"
His response: "Sure, why not?"

I love when things come this easily. So now I just need to check my schedule and make sure I don't have to work too early the day after the concert since it's on a Sunday night. I will probably be the oldest person there, but I don't care. Anyway, if you want to check out the Kings, go to their Myspace page, http://www.myspace.com/kingsofconvenience, or their official website, http://www.kingsofconvenience.com/. If you want news about their concert in Stockholm, here's the link, http://www.nalen.se/.

There are rumors of a new album coming out in April but according to the Kings' Myspace page nothing is recorded yet. However, we Kings fans can rejoice that Eirik and Erlend feel really confident about nine of the new songs they've written. So who knows, maybe there will be a new album soon?

Now, on to things not related to the Kings, I have been working on an outline for my new book so I can stay on course. I had several weeks where my brain was barren of ideas so an outline is what I need to see where I want to go. I know how I want the book to end. I just need a map of how to get there so I won't hear "Mmm...you can't get there from here..." in my mind--so reminiscent of the last time I was in Vermont back in the early 90s and we got lost. I think we heard that phrase at least three times until we finally were given proper directions. Speaking of Vermont, the new book, a romance involving a young widow, her ex- from Sweden who turns up on her doorstep and a dilapidated Federalist-style house in a small town in Vermont, is making me long for a trip to New England. Maybe the next time I am Stateside I'll have to fly into Boston and take the train into Brattleboro or White River Junction...hmm...we'll see. I am starting to feel a little homesick but I don't want to spend my entire time in the US hanging around Philadelphia.

And for those of you who share my Sims addiction: news of Sims 3 has been popping up on the Net. It looks promising--but then again, new Sims games always look promising but the end result doesn't always live up to our expectations. And still we play. It looks like we'll have more freedom customizing things in the game as well as have a seamless neighborhood--something I have always wanted. Looks like it will require a lot of our computers so I guess I will have to get a super PC in 2009 (when the game is projected to be released). You can find more info at http://thesims3.ea.com/.

A few weeks ago, Tord and I tried out a new restaurant (well, it was new to us anyway) called La Dame Noire on Scheelegatan 3. The food and service were amazing. You should check out their menu, http://www.ladamenoire.se/. Tord and I were in seventh heaven it was so yummy there. Methinks we'll be going there again next week. :)

Now I think it's time for coffee...I need a bucket of latte to get me going. Going to synch my iPod first since I just downloaded Dreams by Whitest Boy Alive (Erlend's other band) from iTunes and have been dancing around the living room to "Fireworks". [Check them out at http://www.myspace.com/thewhitestboyalive.]

Off I go!

2008-03-15T14:48:00.003+01:00

Weirdness...

Yesterday wasn't the best of days. I was PMSing--never a good thing--and felt like a zombie (not enough sleep, my own fault for staying up too late watching a movie on the Silver channel). Anyway, I'd had a morning class in Hammarbyhöjden and was on my way back into town when this wiggy older man sat next to me on the subway. Now, this in itself is by no means weird. Strange old men seem to gravitate to me--much like skanky men often approach me and say the most vile things to me (my friend Dave once told me this was due to my having an invisible tattoo on my forehead that only icky, skanky men could read ha-ha). Usually these strange old men try to tell me their life stories or babble about something they read in the newspaper that they are sure I must know something about. Most of the time, I humor them. Yesterday I was creeped out and wanted nothing to do with the weird guy sitting beside me.

Why? Well, first of all, he had this freaky Charles Manson crazy stare. Then he started talking to himself and kept hitting my leg. I got up and moved to another seat. He turned and stared at me from Gullmarsplan all the way to Gamla Stan. By the time we'd arrived at T-Centralen, I was completely wigged out by this old guy.

As I got off the subway at T-Centralen, I noticed the old guy had disembarked through another door. He was on the platform before me and he pointed at me and started chanting, "Neger...neger...neger!" (The Swedish variant of "N*gger...n*gger...n*gger!"). I ignored him, then he apparently found some more black people to follow because I heard him chanting it again and when I looked over my shoulder he was walking behind a younger African woman. She turned around and slapped him with her handbag before she continued towards the steps to the other levels of the station.

Then I started thinking about being called "neger" and how nowadays I just ignore it whereas if someone had called me a nigger in the States or when I was younger it would have set off a huge explosion of whoop-ass. Am I becoming Swedified and sticking my head in the sand? Is it because I am getting older and am learning to let things slide? Have I learned to simply ignore crazy people? Was this all one of those "Candid Camera"-style moments that will eventually pop up on some TV program for the entertainment of the bored couch potatoes of Stockholm?

I don't know the answer, but I can say it didn't make me feel riled up in any way. Maybe these last few months of yoga and Ki-balans and finding this "tranquility within me" (which always sounded like mumbo jumbo before) is actually making me feel calmer. Who knows?

2008-02-24T10:42:00.003+01:00

The Hedgehogs Think It's Spring But I Beg to Differ

The hedgehogs here in Sweden have ended their hibernation. Since the daytime temperatures have been higher than normal (9 C instead of -5C), they think it's spring. Tulip shoots have sprung up in my apartment building's garden. Even some of the plants on my balcony are looking a wee bit greener. I, however, find it hard to believe it's spring when I still feel just as sleepy as I did when winter first began and I am cold all the time.

The past week has been hectic. A lot of work and not enough time to do the things I'd like to do. I haven't even had a chance to go to my Ki-Balans/Yoga passes. Well, tomorrow looks to be a slow day so I think I'll go to the lunchtime Ki-Balans session. Then I'll have lunch at Como and go home and get some writing done.

But I really do wish it were spring--then I'd know that summer is just around the corner. I don't even know why I bother longing for summer when fairly often Swedish summer is extraordinarily disappointing and marked with rain, rain and more rain. I guess I am tired of wearing heavy winter clothing. It would be nice to be able to go for a walk without having to wind a scarf around my neck. I long for a day or two when I can wear sandals.

So here I am, looking at another gray day in Stockholm and longing for sunshine and heat. Maybe it's time to plan a trip to Italy.

2008-02-14T18:49:00.005+01:00

John Mayer said his girlfrind's body was a wonderland...my brain is not a wonderland...it is sandpaper...

This has just not been a good writing week for me, which is driving me crazy. On Monday, I wrote a list of scenes I need to write or revise. I figured this was the best way to make some progress. I actually started two of the scenes--and I told myself, "Piece of cake! You'll have them whipped into shape by Thursday!"

I forgot I had deluge of translations I'd agreed to work on this week. They began streaming in late Monday afternoon. The first batch was six three-page documents, which didn't take so long to finish. Tuesday was more of the same--seven rolled in, one of which was a ten-page transcript. I finished the short texts on Tuesday evening after I had dinner with my Novel Underground chicas. The transcript was a bit trickier--I had to proofread/revise it a few times and managed to send it off yesterday morning. Then I went to Kista to teach...came home, found five more texts in my mailbox, worked on them yesterday afternoon; then three more arrived just before 18:00. Gack! Finished those this afternoon.

So then I decided I would write but my brain felt like sandpaper...still does! Have I written anything? Not reallty. Just three paragraphs...

Must get better. My brain must become a wonderland...must become a wonderland....

I need more yoga.

2008-02-01T22:12:00.000+01:00

Yoga and the art of telling someone to shut up

For the last two months I have been taking two exercise classes at Friskis och Svettis, which I guess you could say is the Swedish equivalent of the YMCA/YWCA. The classes, Ki-Balans and Ki-Yoga, concentrate on improving balance, flexibility and giving you a sense of well-being--I know it sounds New Age-y and very unKim-like but I hurt my hip a few months ago and my naprapat (or manual medicine/sports injury specialist) advised me to start training again now that my injury had finally healed. She recommended these classes to me, stressing they'd keep my hip, thigh and lower back from becoming too stiff and they'd help improve my core.

Well, I figured Ki-Yoga/Ki-Balans twice a week was okay. My work schedule is weird but I have enough holes in it to accomodate two days a week at the gym. I really like attending both classes--though I sometimes have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at some of the goofy supposedly philosophical jargon the instructors come up with. Still, they do a great job of establishing a calm, conducive environment and the stretching exercises we do have really helped--no more pain and stiffness first thing in the morning, no more limping, no more having to sit down every few minutes because I was in too much pain to walk.

Yesterday, I arrived too late to join the early afternoon yoga class at F&S on Sveavägen so I decided I'd wait until 18:00, when another yoga class (with a different instructor) would meet at F&S behind NK. I usually don't go to F&S City--I am not sure why...I think it's because I like Annexet on St. Eriksgatan, F&S Karolinska Institute and F&S Sveavägen so much. All three are convenient and the changing rooms are spacious. F&S City just seems too crowded. Anyway, I managed to get the last ticket to the yoga class and was really looking forward to getting started. I'd felt stressed all day and thought an hour of relaxing music and stretching was just what the doctor ordered!

I grabbed a mat and situated myself near the back--I hate being right in the front. Initially, there were only two of us in the back row. About two minutes before class started, two teenagers arrived and plopped down beside me. I should have known from the giggles and beeping cell phones they'd be pains in the tookas. As soon as the lights were dimmed and the instructor turned on the music, the teeny-boppers began stage-whispering and squealing and giggling and making it difficult for me and the woman to my left to hear what the instructor was saying.

Several times, the instructor reminded all of us (though her comments seemed more directed at the teeny-boppers) to be quiet and listen to our breathing and to what our bodies were telling us as we stretched. This made the teeny-boppers squeal even more. I tried to keep my patience but they were really getting on my nerves. I shushed them twice, they stage-whispered even more. Someone else shushed them--their cell phones beeped in response, triggering yet another fit of squeals and giggles.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. The inner grouch in me emerged and hissed at them to shut up--not in polite Swedish, but in thorny, I-am-in-a-foul-mood-now American English. It did the trick. Their squeals ceased, giggles no longer spilled out of them and clouded the room--and everyone else seemed to let out a sigh of relief--or where they simply practicing their breathing and listening to their bodies? Who knows? All I can tell you is that I could finall hear what the instructor was saying and I was no longer distracted and annoyed by these two girls.

By the way, I never did make it to Umeå. I had too much to do and I kind of figured I wouldn't go. I shall wait for the next Kings of Convenience gig. Hopefully, it will be in Stockholm or someplace I am more interested in visiting. Until then, I will listen to my KoC CDs and dance around my apartment. I'll play a little Maria Mena in between and maybe even throw in a bit of Novastar and Neffa.

And I will wait for a little more sunshine because Stockholm is one rainy place this winter.

2008-01-17T18:01:00.000+01:00

The Kings of Convenience are coming...

...to Umeå, that is. Erlend and Eirik are not making any forays into Stockholm this time, but I'll keep my fingers crossed. If they do come here during the spring, I will have to use my charms on Tord and see if I can convince him to see them with me.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the Kings of Convenience, they are a fantastic Norwegian duo whose music I fell for around two years ago. The first song I ever heard by them was "I'd Rather Dance with You". I was in Vienna at the time, celebrating my birthday and enjoying a change of scenery. I liked the song so much, I went out and bought their "Riot on an Empty Street" CD. Fantastic album! Loved it so much, I bought "Quiet Is the New Loud".

Whenever I start a new writing project, I make a playlist of music to listen to as I write. Songs by the Kings of Convenience have figured prominently in the last two playlists I've stored on my iPod.

Well, I will keep my fingers crossed and hope they come to Stockholm soon. If they don't, well hey, maybe I should just go to Umeå? Nah, who am I kidding? I'm a wee bit too lazy to go to Umeå just for a concert. And yet--just a few days ago, I was considering going all the way to Copenhagen to see Neil Young until I found out that only tickets available cost 350 Euros. I like Neil Young but not that much. Hell, I don't like any band enough to pay that much for a concert.

So as I write this I am listening to my iPod and flipping between Word and Blogger. I am trying to write a new scene for my latest project and listening to Robyn sing "Bum Like You". Maybe I'll skip forward to the next Kings of Convenience song in the playlist... I think the next song on the playlist is something by the Police... yup, "Can't Stand Losing You" but I am not in the mood for it. KoC's "I'd Rather Dance With You" is calling me...

Right, time to get back to work on my novel...

2008-01-05T16:12:00.001+01:00

It's January...did you make any resolutions?

A long time ago I decided I would stop making resolutions at the start of every year. Why? I never keep them. Or I forget I made them. Or I decide they were stupid resolutions to begin with and find something far more interesting to do instead.

This year I haven't made any resolutions. Instead, I have simply decided to continue with what I started last year. So what did I decide last year? Well, I decided to take up my Italian lessons again--a wise decision, I think, since I really enjoyed studying Italian and Tord and I spend so much time there. I have already looked into lessons and found some that start in two weeks.

Something else I decided last year was to repaint my hall. I was supposed to start painting a week ago but I spent more time running errands than picking up paint. I've got it pencilled in my calendar now--buy paint on Monday--and the hall will be a lovely shade called "oregano"--ooh, still Italian. Do all roads lead to Italy?

Next on my list, finish the first draft of 2007's Nanowrimo novel. That should be done fairly soon. I like the story, even it's a bit schmaltzy. I don't care. As I said in a previous post, I like pop fiction and I like love stories--even the sappiest ones can make me happy. Will this road lead to Italy--well, there is a writers' conference there in September...mayhaps I will have it revised in time for it...?

Other decisions from last year...? Yeah, the driver's license decision. Still haven't got far with that one. Could be that I have developed motion sickness lately. I feel nauseous when I am in a car too long so maybe it's better traveling by foot or public transport. We'll see... :)

What else...? I have started ridding myself of clothes I never wear anymore. No point in keeping them if they've been hanging in my closet for more than two years and I have never worn them. Going to get rid of some shoes I no longer like or wear anymore, plus some old bags I bought many moons ago and have more than served their purpose. Out they go. Ditto goes for anyone and anything that makes me feel negative. Out they go. I don't have time for putting up with that anymore.

Anything else...? Ah yes, start treating myself to massages, manicures and pedicures more often. That should be easy to continue with. I deserve it.

Right--next decision--must stop writing this now because it's soon time to start preparing dinner. And Tord has requested corn-fed chicken roasted in butter, onions, lemon, garlic and a wee bit of olive oil. I made it yesterday. He loved it so much, he wants it again. No problem. It's easy as pie!

Off I go! No resolutions, just continuing with everything from last year.

2007-12-18T21:38:00.000+01:00

Are you still looking for presents...?

As of today, I am completely done! With Christmas shopping, that is. I traipsed around Gamla Stan picking up the last of my presents (for other people and a few for myself). I usually never shop in Gamla Stan but that may change. Today was a fantastic shopping experience--great service, unique gifts, cold weather that sent me in search of something warm to drink--I love when shopping is fun!

Since I am now finished with my Christmas shopping, I thought I'd help the rest of you who are still searching for that special gift...or need to escape the stress of shopping, here are a few suggestions:

Tindra Stockholm on Österlånggatan 41 in Gamla Stan for yummy smelling soaps, gorgeous linens and other wonderful knickknacks.
Original Global Art on Österlånggatan 22 for unique art from around the world at affordable prices.
Teahouse Chaikhana on Svartmangatan 23 when you need a little halcyon after a jam-packed day of shopping and stress.
For the little ones, why not some great kids' books from Bokspindeln on Odengatan 102 in Vasastan?
For your adult book lovers, check out my friend Margaret's wonderful bookshop, New York Stories, Odengatan 100.
Once you leave NYS with a huge bag full of books, you can swing by Caffè Como on Odengatan 106 for a grilled ciabatta and a latte.
Need some toys? Go to Kalika on Österlånggatan 18 in Gamla Stan for handmade toys, doll houses, finger puppets--you name it! This store is magical...
Need a present for your friend who loves to be spoiled? Go to Kiehl's on Mäster Samuelsgatan 5 for luxurious soaps, creams, facial products--you name it! This place is heaven!
Need a luxury basket for your foodie friend? Go to Delicatessen Chez Jean-Yves on Upplandsgatan 54 for scrumptious cheese, pâté, biscuits, marmalades, sausages....
If you need an espresso to keep you going as you walk along Upplandsgatan, pop over to Primafila on Upplandsgatan 16 and, while you're at it, book a barista course for your picky friend who wants to learn how to make the perfect espresso or latte. Andrea will take good care of you!
While you're on Upplandsgatan, don't forget to stop by Odette's on Upplandsgatan 36 for scented candles, goodies from Designers' Guild, sumptuous bath towels...this is definitely one of my favorite stores in Vasastan.

So those are just a few suggestions to help you if you are completely frazzled and you're ready to have a nervous breakdown. And I promise--no more shopping posts. :)

2007-12-08T13:16:00.001+01:00

Christmas is coming, Christmas is coming...

...but in Stockholm there isn't a drop of snow, nothing to make you feel giddy and bubbly with Christmas spirit. Where the hell is the snow??? Outside, the sky is a dull shade of gray and the lack of sunlight--we've had two full days of rain in a row--is making me feel like a sleepwalker.

Slowly but surely Advent lights are turning up in people's windows and fairy lights strung round balcony railings. But where is the smell of glühwein and roasted potatoes and chestnuts...? Oh wait, I am thinking of Austria where the Christmas spirit is in full swing. What I wouldn't do for a steaming cup of apfelpunsch right now...

So this week I will continue my Christmas movie bonanza--what is the Christmas season without an overdose of corny Christmas movies that make you laugh or smile or even cry a little? Tord and I are both in the mood for Elf, which I bought when I was in the US but has since disappeared or at least gone MIA somewhere in our messy apartment. I saw Elf for the first time two years ago. I was in an awful mood (ill, depressed, probably a little grumpy) and its unadulterated silliness made me laugh so hard that I forgot about my sinus infection. Will Ferrell screaming, "Santa Claus is coming, Santa Claus is coming!" and all of his antics to make James Caan (his on-screen dad) love him kept a smile on my face for hours. It's brilliant--and I don't mean brilliant in a Wim Wenders Wings of Desire or a Cinema Paradiso kind of way. I mean brilliant in a laugh out loud I want to watch it every Christmas kind of way. I guess I will have to search for it at our local video store. Must have Elf, must have Elf!

Over the next few weeks my Christmas dosage of movies will include The Family Stone, The Preacher's Wife, The Bishop's Wife, Miracle on 34th Street and It's a Wonderful Life. I will probably drive Tord insane with all of my Christmas movies, but he's used to it by now.

I even made my own double disc compilation of my favorite Christmas songs...a third volume may soon join it... Ah....Christmas, well...okay, I can survive a little longer without snow....as long as I get to see Elf soon.

2007-11-16T18:04:00.000+01:00

Oregano...or sage?

This post will be a quick-one: I am doing Nanowrimo again and I already lost two hours of writing to catch up with Sara and Levi, which is good because I haven't seen them in two weeks. But I am behind--I should have written roughly 30,000 words by now and I am only just closing in on 20,000. I hope I will actually finish on time this year.

The new story? A widow, a man with a tool belt, an old house in Vermont and a shared past...oooh! I will freely admit that I wasted my time writing literary fiction. I love love love pop fiction--love writing it, love reading it, almost love indulging in it as much as I love chocolate and shoes.

Anyway, this week's dilemma--what color should I paint my hallway? Tord and I have picked two shades we both agree on: oregano and sage, i.e. green. Both shades are nearly identical. One has a slightly grey undertone, the other feels a wee bit warmer. I have bought a test can of oregano. Will try it out this weekend. But...a third shade jumped out at me---asparagus. It was much lighter than the oregano and sage, but it could work too.

Ah well. I can't allow myself to be seduced by so many gorgeous colors. I have to focus.

Alright, that's it today. I told you it would be short.

2007-10-24T23:04:00.000+02:00

I want to buy a new pair of shoes...

Normally, I don't write about shopping, there are already far too many blogs about shopping and what to wear/what not to wear. This post has nothing to do with dictating what you should buy. This post is all about what I want to buy.

I am in the mood to spoil myself. And when I spoil myself I usually want new shoes. Back in the old days (read: when I lived in Richmond) the bottom of my closet was lined with boxes upon boxes of shoes. Shoes I loved, shoes that went with just about every outfit I owned. New shoes, vintage shoes. Shoes. My favorite pair was a vintage pair of spectator pumps I found at a second-hand shop on Cary Street. They were in pristine condition despite being from the 1940s. I paid $15 for them. When I moved to Sweden, I couldn't afford to ship my collection of shoes. I gave some away to my roommate, took the most practical pairs (that could withstand Swedish weather and donated the rest to the Salvation Army thrift store. Somewhere in Richmond, someone got great pleasure (I hope) out of my pony skin clogs, my strappy sandals, my cute little mules.

So what shoes do I want? Well, when I was in Zürich a few weeks ago, I saw the cutest pair of red pony skin ballerina flats at Gallerie Andy Jllien. I yearned for them. I talked myself out of them and bought a more practical pair of plain black leather ballerina flats instead. Now I wish I'd bought both pair instead of just one. I have been looking for something similar in Stockholm but all I have found are pony skin driving moccasins, which aren't nearly as cute.

Today I thought I would look for a pair of brown leather boots while I was in Södermalm. I figured I may as well look since I was early for my class. I went in and out of several stores, but--alas--no boots tickled my fancy. I ended up going to Åhéns after class and treating myself to some facial products from Origins.

At least I bought a new pair of curling boots last week. It's good to be prepared for the winter. Last year, we had our first snowfall on All Saint's Day. You may remember how I described the chaos on the streets of Stockholm when drivers who hadn't switched to their winter tires slid backwards down Upplandsgatan, buses crashed near Norra Bantorget, I slid my way down the road like the Silver Surfer and--for a change--did not fall. Jack Frost really kicked Stockholm's butt that evening. I don't think the same thing will happen this year on All Saint's Day. It's been pretty mild the last two weeks. Perhaps I shouldn't speak too soon. The weather here can change at the drop of a hat.

But enough about weather. I want a new pair of shoes. I am off all day on Friday. Maybe I will look for a pair then. I have worked hard all week. I have earned a new pair of shoes. And shoes are my guilty pleasure...well, shoes, Sims 2, Days of Our Lives and chick lit novels. And I am not ashamed to admit it.

Speaking of Days of Our Lives, we are three years behind in Sweden. We're at the point of he storyline when the Salem Serial Killer has sent an eerie "message" to Caroline Brady. I know a few more people will die on the soap. I usually refer to Days of Our Lives as "the bad soap" but I love its campiness. I love that Marlena has been possessed by the devil, been kidnapped a gazillion times and been surrogate mother to genetically-engineered twins. It's a nice escape from reality.

Shoes and soaps...a little chocolate would be nice, too.

2007-09-30T00:16:00.000+02:00

In every other country, pregnant women are goddesses...

...or so the author of a letter to Svenska Dagbladet's letters to the editor page wrote a few days ago. This woman, whose name I have sadly forgotten, complained bitterly at the injustices she suffers in Swedish society as a pregnant woman and made it sound as though pregnant women in Sweden are somehow mistreated and maligned. I read the letter three times, trying to figure out if this woman was serious or just being ironic. I am still not sure. I sincerely hope she was being ironic, else she surely has a lot to learn about the rest of the world and how good she has it in Sweden.

All I know is that when I read the article I found myself wanting to shake this woman by her shoulders and scream, a la Cher in Moonstruck sans the slap, "Snap out of it!"

Her main complaints seemed to focus on her feeling that people do not treat pregnant women like they are special enough. According to her, no one in Sweden ever offers their subway or bus seat to pregnant women (definitely not true--I have witnessed on countless occasions men and women offering their seats to pregnant women), that people in Sweden only view children as noisy and annoying (some are, but then again, so are loads of adults), that people behave as though pregnant women brought their pregnancies upon themselves and so have no right to complain.... Well, technically, they and their partner decided to have a baby so--in a way--they did bring it upon themselves but why should that stop them from complaining?

But what made me chuckle was her statement that everywhere else in the world pregnant women are treated like goddesses. Hmm... I don't know many other countries as generous as Sweden when it comes to maternity leave + maternity leave benefits, prenatal and postnatal care--there are even special movie showings called "Baby Bio" so mothers on maternity leave can still see a movie and not have to leave their babies with a childminder.

Sweden is not perfect but it is a country that is far from treating its pregnant citizens like dirt. I am suddenly reminded of an article I read in Vanity Fair around five or six years ago. The article dealt with the civil war in Sierra Leone and featured a macabre pictorial of the consequences of this war. One of the pictures was a pregnant woman who'd been raped and mutilated, her body left by the roadside. The caption for the picture informed the reader that the woman's baby had been cut from her body and kicked around like a football by soldiers stoned out of their minds. Here was a pregnant woman whose life should have been valued and cherished--she was carrying the future in her womb. She should have been treated like a goddess instead of having to run for her life, only to lose it at the hands of men so stoned they probably didn't remember killing her later.

So before anyone, pregnant or not, complains about not being treated like a goddess, they can think about that dead woman by the roadside and count themselves lucky they aren't a casualty of war.

2007-09-17T16:52:00.000+02:00

Summer moved on...

Well, autumn has definitely arrived in Stockholm. Already the days are shorter and chillier. Evenings of sitting outside and enjoying a glass of wine are fewer and fewer as the autumn chill creeps in.

The tenants' association for the building I live in hosted an autumn garden party at the weekend. I managed an hour of sitting outside before I began to shiver and had to bail. It was just too chilly for me, and I was a wee bit too tired after a day of translating to focus on speaking Swedish without feeling like my mouth and brain weren't always connecting.

I usually love autumn in Stockholm, but this year it's a bit depressing. After such a wet summer, it would have been nice with a more gradual shift into autumn. But already at the end of August it was getting to chilly to sit outside. And the rain we suffered through in June and July has hung in there for September. We normally tell our friends that September is the best time to visit Stockholm--usually it's quite sunny and dry, though not as warm as it can be in August. But this year we haven't advised anyone to come here. The damp air we've had lately doesn't feel the least bit welcoming. I've already seen people donning winter coats, thought it's nowhere near cold enough for a parka yet!

But it's soon time to prepare for the winter darkness. I've stocked up on candles, renewed my Friskis och Svettis card, bought new sweaters to keep me warm, got loads of romantic comedies to cheer me up should the winter blues wear me down.

I shouldn't even say the "w" word...but there was a picture in the paper today of men playing golf in Dalarna and there was snow on the ground! Snow! And it's only the 16th of September. Luckily it will be a while before we Stockholmers get any snow. Last year, we had our first snow fall on 1 November. Traffic chaos abounded. Luckily, I had on my curling boots and my duffel coat. I hardly noticed the snow--but I did notice all the accidents on the road. I was glad I was walking then! Didn't have to worry about changing tires or sliding on ice...

Brrrr! Just thinking about ice and snow is making me cold... I'm just going to sit at my desk and channel images of Umbria in the summer sun for a while...

2007-07-31T15:36:00.001+02:00

On that morning flight to Philly...

On Tuesday morning I am going to Philadelphia. People keep saying how nice it is that I am going on vacation or how lucky I am that I can just pop on a flight over to the US to escape the rather dismal summer weather we've been having in Sweden. When I tell them I am not going there on vacation--that I am going to see my family (which doesn't, in my eyes, count as vacation) and see how my dad is doing following his surgery, those very same people behave as though I am being ungrateful--to them, going to Philadelphia when it is 92C (and probably way too humid) is holiday. But going home to the States never feels like a vacation/holiday. I wish it did, but it never does.

As much as I love my hometown, going there usually reminds me of how long I've been away. I don't instantly recognize places and people any longer. Most of my old friends have moved away (just as I did) or we simply lost touch. Of course, this is what happens when you get older. Especially if you chose to move away. I knew even when I was younger I couldn't spend the rest of my life in Philadelphia. It had nothing to do with hating the city--though I was sure it was due to that when I was a teenager--and everything to do with realizing that if I stayed there I would never really know what I was capable of doing. I felt smothered by what other people expected of me, and I couldn't seem to get enough leeway to have a life that felt like my own.

Now when I go home (yup, I still call it home even though my home is in Stockholm), I have to fight to keep from sliding into the old patterns. I have to remind myself that I don't have to do things just because it is expected of me, I don't have to justify why I made choices that other people either don't understand or don't like.

But even if there are certain elements that aren't always nice about being back in Philly (ridiculous arguments with my sister, missing Tord when I am there, just to name a few), once I've been there a few days I start remembering all of the things I like about Philadelphia: cheese steaks, walking around University of Pennsylvania's campus, the Reading Terminal, sitting on the front porch and reading the newspaper, walking into Center City from West Philly, etc). And I think about people I miss when I am in Stockholm, like my mom and my great-aunt and my nieces and my brother and even (sometimes) my sister.

Being there never makes me feel like I want to move back to Philadelphia.

It's just nice knowing I can go there a few times a year.

2007-07-23T20:52:00.000+02:00

What's Up With All the Visible Butt Cracks?

I don't normally think of myself as being prudish. Nudity doesn't bother me--I've taken enough life drawing classes and been to enough clothing-optional beaches in Greece not be disturbed by wobbly bits on display.

But lately I have seen more than enough butt cracks emerging from the tops of jeans, shorts etc. So I have to ask the question: Who decided this was acceptable?

Tonight Tord and I were having dinner at Primo Ciao Ciao on Odengatan when a young woman sitting diagonally across from us bent forward to sample her date's food. What did she treat us to? Her posterial divide on display.

Yesterday, I was in Kronobergspark with Sara. Another set of posterial divides on display--one of which was nearly the entire posterior on display her jeans were so low-slung.

Maybe it's a sign of age that this is getting on my nerves. I mean, I still don't understand why fashions from the 70s and 80s are making comebacks when it seemed that it was universally decided that these were fashion mistakes never to be repeated again.

But if I have to decide between jeans so low-slung that I'd need a Brazilian wax just to go out in them and those hideous high-waisted jeans that make me look like my mom still dresses me, then I choose those fugly high-waisted jeans.

You see, I just don't think that certain body parts should be on display in certain situations. Regardless of whether I am sitting in an outdoor bar or cafe, I think men should wear shirts. I do not want to be presented with their hairy/scrawny/pot-bellied/sweaty etc torsos when I am eating or enjoying a glass of wine. Just as I would prefer not to have anyone's (male or female) butt crack in my line of vision when I am having dinner. Surely there must be an entry in Emily Post's book of etiquette on proper occasions to display the posterial divide (and I am fairly certain she'd advise against displaying it and its companions--the cups-running-over blouse and the skirt-that-leaves-nothing-to-the-imagination--in restaurants and classrooms and probably even museums).

But Stockholmers are intent on wearing low-waisted jeans and showing off their butts, especially since it is summer (even if it is damp and cold and not very summer-like today). And I have at least eight more weeks of being subjected to butt cracks and thongs on display.

Good thing I have plenty of good books to read...

2007-07-09T23:28:00.000+02:00

Wish I were back in Umbria...

Well, it's nearly a month now since we returned from Italy, and I sooooo wish we were still there. The trip was amazing--and not in a "we-did-so-many-exciting-things" way. I think it was more the mood that was amazing. It's been a long time since Tord and I felt so relaxed and so happy to simply "be". Coming home to Stockholm was very difficult. Stockholm feels so drab and cold in comparison. This could, of course, be due to it raining nearly every single day since we returned home.

Let me tell you why it was so wonderful to be in Italy...

After a hectic and sticky day in Rome, we boarded a train bound for Spoleto and arrived in a beautiful Umbrian hill town that just felt magical. From the balcony of our hotel room, we had a spectacular view of the verdant hillside and were lulled by the heady scent of bird cherry everyday. We drank far too much red wine, ate too much parmesan cheese and sausage spiced with truffles, climbed the steep and narrow streets of the city and stumbled on so many gorgeous sights.... I could have easily spent another two or three days there.

But we had another place to visit...Assisi. And Assisi was lovely, even with so many tourists milling around and all the hubbub with the Pope's imminent arrival, Assisi was a city that charmed the pants off us. We trudged up the steep Pilgrim's Way (sweating, swearing, and dying of thirst) only to be dazzled by the sight of the Basilica of San Francesco. Like Spoleto, Assisi was full of narrow lanes and surprising vistas. The food was delicious...our hotel room at the bottom of the hill--modern, comfortable and overlooking a piazza that seemed to host a block party every night.

And then there was Perugia...yet another hill town, this one with a population of around 160,000. It took us a while to find our hotel and the air was thick and syrupy. Our hotel, just outside the old city walls and positioned with an outstanding view of Assisi in the distance, gave us a well-deserved respite with its rooftop pool and terrace. We overdosed on Umbrian art, sampled local cuisine and took la passegiata every evening.

And everyday I dreamed of how it must be to rent a house in Italy and spend an entire summer there. One day I hope I can do that. I am so tired of wet and uninspiring Swedish summers, especially when I've already had to suffer through a long, dark and even less inspiring Swedish winter.

By the way, the picture above is mine. It's a view of Perugia from our hotel's rooftop terrace. I wish I were there now...

I love Umbria...

2007-05-24T14:58:00.000+02:00

La Dolce Vita

In two weeks Tord and I are going to Italy--again. I am not complaining--I love Italy, I could easily imagine Tord and I selling everything we own, waving goodbye to all our friends and settling down in some hilltown in Italy. I have been dreaming of living there since I was a kid. All things Italian spark my interest--food, design, art, music (well, not so much Eurodisco--ick!), but you name it--I love Italy. I guess you could call me an Italophile--if that is even a word.

So why are we going to Italy? Tord wants to celebrate his birthday someplace where he can savor pasta with white truffle sauce--and that is not something we can do in Stockholm. I think he's also hankering for a change of scenery. We usually take weekend trips during the spring but we haven't gone anywhere since we returned from the US in February. We talked about going to Ireland but never found any airline tickets at a good price, ditto Belgium. For a while, we tossed around the idea of going to France, but that evaporated. Besides, we always have a great time in Italy and last year's train adventure through Umbria and Tuscany was a huge success. This year will be something of a repeat--we're going to Rome and then Umbria, but skipping Tuscany. So far, we have decided we'll visit Spoleto, Norcia and Assisi. I think we are going to Perugia as well.

Next summer, I want to rent a house in Italy and stay there at least two weeks. I have this dream of finding some lovely town with a train station (great for excursions + returning to the airport), a trattoria that serves the best food, and a little house where Tord and I can be lazy and soak up the sun and eat loads of ice cream. If we don't feel like cooking, we can walk (or ride our bikes) to the trattoria or osteria. We can fill our baskets with salsiccia, parmesan cheese, tomatoes, smoked mozzarella, proscuitto....oh boy....now I'm getting hungry...and the sun will kiss our skin and make us feel alive.

Everyone in Sweden says summer is the best time to be in Stockholm and they wonder why we go away for ten days every summer. Well, it's like this--Swedish summer weather is fickle. You never know what you're going to get. One summer can be warm and beautiful and make you think you're in the tropics. The next summer can be damp, cold and rainy and you'll go weeks without ever seeing the sun.

One summer in particular stands out in my mind: it started out swimmingly--May was lovely and warm, then June arrived and with it came clouds that didn't seem to disappear until the end of August. That summer it rained nearly every day. There were very few days when the temperature was above 16C. I was miserable. I didn't wear shorts that entire summer. I was still wearing winter sweaters in July. My sandals went unworn because the ground was far too wet. My hair was in a permanent state of frizziness. I'd never been so depressed before in my entire life. I understood then the old stereotype of suicidal Swedes. That summer I hated Sweden and everything Swedish. And all because there was no sun, just big fat droplets of rain, rain and more rain.

If the weather is good this summer, I will make the most of it. If today is anything to go by, then we're in for a good summer in Stockholm. But who knows what tomorrow will bring... it's rained nearly every day this week and they say there's more rain on the way either Sunday or Monday. I hope they're wrong.

But now I am going to sit on my balcony and soak up some sun. Even though I was born with a perfect tan, I still like to turn into a sun worshipper every now and then.

2007-05-07T11:40:00.000+02:00

Changes...

On Saturday, I had lunch with some of my girlfriends and it occurred to me how much we've changed over the years. Sara is in medical school and has a nine-month-old son named Levy who is adorable--even when he has an ear infection. Nadia is now married and pregnant with her first child. Fia is married, has a lovely son named Ville and is pregnant with her second child. I am married and will be celebrating my eighth anniversary soon, no kids and waiting to hear from a literary agent who is reading the first four chapters of my novel. Missing from the group was Maitechu, who is in Saudi Arabia with her husband and two-year-old son until July.

At some point, we talked about how things have changed, though we didn't really use ourselves as examples. We talked about some of our male friends and how their lives have changed. Fredrik married Ulrika and they are awaiting the birth of their first child (a boy they will probably name Sixten). Chris and Julie had a baby girl named Holly, left Södermalm and moved to Gröndal. (And we thought Chris would never ever leave Södermalm, but Gröndal is still close to Södermalm...) And Brian has sold his apartment and will be moving to the UK at the end of the month to live with his girlfriend.

There was a time when we all used to see each other on an almost daily basis. We'd have brunch on Sundays, coffee on Saturday, drink far too much beer at Lion Bar--at least during the summer--on Fridays. Monday through Thursday anything could happen. We might end up at the cafe in Kulturhuset or the espresso bar on Horsngatan. Or, more often than not, we were at Blåbär on Upplandsgatan consuming salads and cheesecake and copious cups of coffee.

These days, we're all so busy with other things, or maybe we just don't take the time to meet as often as we used to for various reasons. One thing is certain, we're all getting older--some are more adverse to this than others.

I started noticing gray hairs around my 29th birthday. I don't remember if this bothered me very much though it probably did--at least for a few minutes. Tord has had gray hair since we met--though we like to joke that I am the cause of his loss of his blond hair. Neither of us seems bothered by the fact that we are getting older. The only thing I really miss from being younger is the ability to bounce back quickly from just about anything.

Drank too much last night? No problem...you're twenty-one, you eat a huge breakfast and take a shower and--voila!--you're as fresh as a daisy.

Do the same when you are thirty-seven and you still feel like a zombie two days later.

So I don't care that more gray hairs are sprouting out of my scalp. If it ever bothers me, I'll go to Roddy (who usually cuts my hair when I remember to make an appointment) and ask him to color it for me. But I do miss the energy and the enthusiasm for just about anything that I used to have. And I miss the unbridled optimism I had when I was a teenager. There are moments now when I still have it, but usually I find myself looking for cons when I should be concentrating on pros.

But the inner-child in me is alive and well. She makes an appearance when I least expect it. And even if my appearance is not what it used to be, I am happy.

And that's what matters most.

2007-04-19T11:31:00.000+02:00

Slowed Down By Acute Bronchitis, Oh Joy!

As I write this, the spring rains have finally arrived in Stockholm. I woke this morning to the sound of rain splattering on my windowpanes and, instead of being annoyed by it, I was actually glad. We need the rain--and not just for the usual reasons like spring flowers growing, etc. We need it to wash away all the dust and grit left over from the winter.

For the last ten days I have been ill. It started off as my usual spring battle with pollen allergies. This commenced just before Easter. I thought I had it under control. The nasal spray my doctor prescribed was working like a charm, I could breathe and my head didn't feel like the size of a pumpkin. No worries for me! Then on Easter Monday, I woke with a fever and my throat was raw. At first, I thought it was another bout of strep throat. But I realized that it didn't feel like glass in my throat this time. It wasn't even my throat that was the biggest problem--it was this weird burning sensation under my breastplate. Then the coughing fits started. And the wheezing...and another fever...and it occurred to me that I could have bronchitis.

I consulted my favorite site for health info--the Mayo Clinic (www.mayoclinic.com) and looked for information on bronchitis. There was a list of thirteen symptoms, and I had all of them. I called my doctor, he told me to come in for an examination and sure enough--I had acute bronchitis, which he thought could be attributed to the copious amounts of pollen dust in the air. Since it was viral and not bacterial, no antibiotics were prescribed. Just rest, plenty of liquids and the strict order to "allow" myself to cough--"That's the only way you'll get rid of it," my doctor said. "Get rid of the phlegm, cough it up."

So after five days of fevers, coughing, feeling like a zombie and hating the world, I am finally able to sleep at night without being awakened by coughing fits. I can actually walk up a flight of stairs without wheezing. I still feel a bit weak, and my brain feels like it's in the wrong gear but they say this should pass by Friday or Saturday. Maybe I will jumpstart it with a bit of sudoku or a crossword puzzle.

One nice thing about being at home ill is getting to lie on the sofa and watch loads of dvds. I found a new favorite film, Something New with Sanaa Lathan and Simon Baker. Also saw Imagine Me and You with Piper Perabo and Matthew Goode.

I bought a book to keep me occupied called Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisha Pessl. So far, I am spellbound. If you haven't read it yet, go out and buy it.

Time to start writing again...

2007-03-27T11:58:00.000+02:00

I want...something.

Ever have that feeling that you want something but you have no clue exactly what that something is? Well, that is my dilemma today. I don't really know what I want but I have this feeling that once I find it I'll be pleased beyond belief.

The last time I had this feeling I spent an entire day browsing various shoe stores in Stockholm until I found the perfect pair of cute sandals for the summer. I ended up finding them at Jerns on Sveavägen, and this guilty pleasure only cost me 299 kronor--not a bad price for a pair of leather sandals I wore nearly every day of my vacation in Italy last summer and they looked good with everything from shorts to dresses to skirts to jeans. And despite my wearing them so often, they still look great.

I don't think that what I want at the moment is something I can buy. It could be something I can do. I've been thinking a lot lately about taking art classes again, so it could be that the inner artist in me wants an outlet. It could also be the writer in me that is simply reminding me to get to work today instead of blogging.

I still want...something.

On another note, this is a remarkably slow work week for me. I don't have any classes until Thursday and I have plenty of time for writing (always a nice change). I have figured out how I want my novel to end (just need to write those last few chapters) but I haven't figured out what happens after chapter twelve. So today, my little writing exercise for the day will be plotting out the last five chapters (or more, if need be).

It's still March Madness time, and we chicas in SWG are still writing writing writing away, trying to keep ourselves motivated so we can all go to Italy in September and charm a few agents.

Something...something...something.

Maybe all I want is a walk (again) along Norr Mälarstrand. Right...I'm off.

2007-03-14T15:40:00.000+01:00

Has spring sprung?

As I write this, I am sitting by my balcony door, listening to birds sing and enjoying the bit of warmth on my arm from the slant of sunshine streaming in. In the courtyard below, tulips are pushing through the soil. My clematis is already showing signs of awakening. It's March 14th and already Stockholm feels like it's in the throes of spring.

But should I trust it? Swedish weather is not something that ought to be trusted--at least when it comes to spring and the first days of summer. Just when you think you can bid adieu to your winter coat and scarf and pull out your lightweight jacket, a cold spell appears out of nowhere and throws you for a loop. I should know--it's happened to me plenty of times. And in Stockholm, you could go weeks without snow in March and April, have loads of warm sunny days and then suddenly--on Walpurgis (known to Swedes as "Valborg") it snows!

Tord has already taken off his winter coat and begun wearing a lighter coat. He's brave. I just don't trust this weather. The only step I've taken towards admitting it may be spring is that my curling boots have been replaced with a cute pair of shoes I bought while I was in the US. But if I see so much as a snow flurry, the curling boots are coming out of the closet again.

Today I took a walk along Odengatan and saw three teenagers stride past clad in super tiny miniskirts--sans tights or leggings--and sandals. I think it's a little early for sandals. But this is one sure sign of spring in Stockholm--when teenage girls stop wearing jeans and switch to minis and no tights. Even women my age begin doing the same thing. The temperature may drop to zero at some point during the evening, but they will refuse to put on so much as a scarf because--hey, it's spring! Then they get sick and blame their sniffles on their colleagues and cast murderous glares at those of us whose sneezes are due to allergies and not colds or anything remotely contagious.

But I can't wait for warmer weather. I want to sit on my balcony in the evenings and enjoy a glass of wine, a plate of cheese and strawberries...read a book or listen to music and just relish in the art of simply "being".

It may be a while until that sort of weather makes its appearance in Stockholm, but it's coming. And I won't waste a minute of it.

2007-03-01T13:05:00.000+01:00

I miss summer...

It's been a long time since my last post, and there is a reason for my absence: I was in the US visiting family and my Internet connection was veeeeerrrrryyyy slow.

There were two reasons for going to the States: I missed my mom and my brother-in-law was getting married. The only problem was that I couldn't be away as long as I would have liked. Ideally, I'd rather have at least a month when I make the "trek" across the pond. This gives me time to meet my friends and family in Philly, see my relatives in Smithfield and do things that I want to do--like shopping, going to museums, seeing a few movies months before they're released in Sweden. But this time I only had two weeks and I divided them by spending the first week in Philadelphia and the second week in West Palm Beach, where my brother-in-law and his new wife live.

It was colder in Philadelphia than it was in Stockholm--something no Swede ever believes when I tell them. In fact, the entire time I was in Philadelphia the temperatures were below freezing--there were a few days when the wind chill factor made it feel like it was below zero Fahrenheit. I didn't mind the weather--the sun was shining, and there was plenty of hot chocolate to be had.

Since I knew all of this in advance, I had to pack loads of winter clothing--or at least a week's worth. But since I was going to West Palm Beach I also needed spring or summer clothing, plus my outfit for the wedding.

My suitcase was not full--in fact, it was only half-full, but I had to pay Continental Airlines $25 because it was three pounds too heavy. I only packed one bag. If I'd packed two suitcases, I could have checked in 50 pounds per bag. I'd figured it would be easier to travel with just one suitcase and my bag for my laptop. Ah well. I bought a duffel bag and stuffed half of my suitcase's contents into it so I wouldn't need to pay that fee again.

Anyway, when I arrived in West Palm Beach, it was cloudy and 65 Fahrenheit. Ditto the next day. But then the temperature rose and the sun returned and suddenly it was summer, or at least it felt like it. And the longer I was in the sun, the happier I felt. The blue funk I've been feeling since September lifted and I felt like a human being again and not an icicle. It was enough (I think) of a taste of summer to get me through the remaining months of Swedish winter.

As I write this, I can see my snow-covered balcony and the trees in the courtyard of my apartment building are heavy with wet clumps of snow. The sky is a dull gray and they say the temperature is around 34F. None of this is very tempting, but I should go out for a walk. I need the fresh air. I have been translating documents all morning and I'm restless.

I also have to remember to work on my new writing project (well, not so new, I am still working on my unfinished Nanowrimo novel). It's March Madness with SWG and it will be interesting to see how much I manage to write this month.

But before I sit down to do any writing, I need to get out of this apartment for a while.
I will try to imagine myself in West Palm Beach again as I try not to slip on ice and dodge icicles falling from drains and rooftops.

I miss summer... I'll just have to hold on a few months until it's here again.

2007-01-24T11:16:00.000+01:00

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

Interesting... all through December I longed for snow to brighten the winter darkness and bring a bit more Christmas spirit to Stockholm--but snow eluded me. Instead, I was bombarded with rain, cloud cover and a general feeling of malaise. My Christmas spirit was diluted by rain and rude behavior.

And then on Saturday the air began to smell like snow. It's hard to describe the scent of snow, the way the air smells just before snowfall... but the feeling it gives you makes you feel alive. You revert to childhood and the giddy anticipation of snow and sledding and hot chocolate and all the things that made you happy when you were a kid.

I love snow. I love how it transforms Stockholm and blankets it and makes people slow down just a bit. I love watching the ice-skaters in Vasaparken as I sit in my favorite café and write. I love taking evening walks and hearing the snow crunch under my feet. All those things remind me of why I love Stockholm.

What I hate is the aftermath of snow--slush, ice, delayed commuter trains, falling. Yesterday when I was on my way home from another celebration of rejection at Belgobar, I sprained my ankle when I slid on a patch of ice. Last night, my ankle was swollen and painful, and the Ace bandage I'd inexpertly wrapped around it wasn't helping much in the way of support.

I spent a good part of the evening, mentally ranting and bitching about ice, snow removal, and stupid people who bump into you (which was partly why I slid on the ice in the first place) and just general nasty thoughts about winters in Stockholm. My mental rant included haphazard plans to "fly south for the winter" and escape the chaos that is Stockholm after snowfall. Let's be honest here--it snows every year here--for thousands of years snow has fallen every winter in Sweden, and yet without fail the city of Stockholm always seems unprepared for it. But that's a bit of a digression...we're talking about my ankle here.

And it's the same ankle I sprained back in 1997 during a trip to Vienna. The same ankle that has plagued me since then--which the evil nurse at Vårdcentralen told me was nothing serious. (And in the grand scheme of things, she's right--a sprained ankle is nothing compared to cancer, gun-shot wounds, stabbings, etc.)

So I suppose I can't complain too much. Having this sprained ankle is forcing me to slow down. It's forcing me to do things like look out my window and muse over how lovely it is to see snow coating the pine boughs and fairy lights on my balcony railings.

And it makes me wish I were still a child, with a sled and a snowsuit and making snow angels in the park.

I hate being slowed down by my ankle. I don't mind being slowed down by snow.

2007-01-04T11:14:00.000+01:00

Where did December go?

At the end of November, I thought I would have plenty of time in December to do all the things I put off all autumn. I'd spent most of November trying to grade student papers and complete Nanowrimo (missed it by around 11,000 words BTW) and was desperate for time off to do (mostly) nothing but also maybe go to a museum, treat myself to a manicure/pedicure, paint my hallway, indulge in a little retail therapy...and prepare for Christmas.

I ended up spending most of December running around like a chicken with no head. First, I was grading my students' final portfolios, then I had to prepare for a reading at New York Stories (which went well, BTW), then Tord and I went to Copenhagen and so on. Add in to all of this I had other classes to teach, Christmas presents to buy, Christmas parties to attend, and then all of the sudden it was Christmas Eve and I was exhausted.

My hallway is still that horrid shade of yellow I painted it on a whim a few years ago.
My nails and toenails are still in need of manicuring and pedicuring.
The only museum I have been near was one I walked past in Copenhagen.
The only retail therapy I indulged in was buying Christmas presents for other people.

But I have indulged in long mornings of sleeping in, which is always a good thing.

Yesterday was my birthday. I still haven't bought a birthday present for myself. Maybe I will do that today.

But the most important thing for me to do today is get back to work on my writing. I also need to send out more query letters so Karin and I know when we can have a celebration of acceptance instead of just celebrations of rejection.

So today, besides updating this blog, I will spend at least two hours working on my unfinished Nanowrimo novel. I will also renew my Friskis och Svettis card. Time to start yoga and Core again.

And maybe I will go to a museum. Who knows?

2006-12-16T21:50:00.001+01:00

2006-11-20T18:01:00.000+01:00

So this is November and what have I done?

Well, I've spent the better part of the month grading papers, working and trying to get in as many Nanowrimo hours as possible. And on Saturday I'll be making a turkey and celebrating Thanksgiving with my in-laws (plus trying to get in some Nanowrimo hours).

How's my Nanowrimo quest coming along? As of today, I am at the 30,000 word mark. Need to remember to update my "My Novel" page on the official Nanowrimo site.

And the saga of Liam and Naomi continues... if you're interested in reading it, skiddle-daddle on over to www.nanowrimo.org. You'll find me and my novel, See How They Shine For You, in the author search under the name "KimGM".

I've got too much to do today so I don't have time to write a long post.
This will have to do until next week when--hopefully--I will have more time (and energy) to write.

By the way, if you don't have the new Damien Rice CD...I order you to go to your nearest store and buy it. he and his band are Godhead.

2006-11-05T19:30:00.000+01:00

First week of Nanowrimo

Five days into Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) and I'm really pleased with the progress I've made. I won't exaggerate and say that what I've written is stellar--it's all first draft and a very rough first draft at that--but I haven't written so much so quickly in a long time. With this in mind, this week's post will be short--I want to get back to the chronicles of Naomi and Liam (working title: See How They Shine For You) and what's in store for them.

My writing goal is 2000 words per day. So far, I am a little under that. At present (haven't updated it yet on the official site), I've got 9200 words. I should be at 10,000 already, but by the time I finish my daily dose of writing, I will have reached that goal.

My plot is pure Chick Lit/Romance. I wanted to write something fun and easy. And since the winter darkness is upon Stockholm, I want to fill my imagination with love, love, love so I can cruise into Christmas and then my birthday in January. If I like the end result, I'll revise it during Christmas vacation.

So this is my second foray into Nanowrimo and, hopefully, I'll be doing it again next year.

I love Nanowrimo!

If you want to follow my progress, you can always look for me as "KimGM" on Nanowrimo's official site (www.nanowrimo.org) using "Author Search".

2006-10-23T12:51:00.000+02:00

A Change of Thanksgiving Plans, Edinburgh Dreaming & Nanowrimo

Well, my great plan to spend Thanksgiving in Philadelphia is bust. I hadn't checked my schedule properly and my evening class will still be in session until 7 December. I may still go to Philadelphia in December but I won't be spending Christmas there. This year, I want to spend Christmas either in Stockholm or somewhere warm with just Tord beside me. If I go to Philly in December, it will only be for ten days. I want to be in Stockholm a few days before Christmas.

Tord has also mentioned going to Edinburgh again--which thrills me to bits!

I love Edinburgh. Something about the city speaks to me. I like to joke that in a past life I must have lived there but I think the most evocative thing about Edinburgh is the combination of its architecture and the weather. There's something very moody there, the contrast of light and shadow. The first time I went there I fell in love with the city's rainswept streets and the awe-inspiring castle. It was winter and everyone said we were crazy for going there in January. The weather actually reminded me of Philadelphia in winter. I wasn't bothered by the cold rain (though I hate hate hate it in Stockholm). I loved how eerie it felt walking along King's Stables Road and passing St. Cuthbert's cemetery just after midnight when a heavy fog blanketed the city.

In June, we went to Edinburgh again so I could do some research for a novel I'm working on. This time we walked along the Water of Leith, explored Stockbridge and Dean Village as well as a lovely afternoon stroll in the Royal Botanic Garden. In the evenings we popped into the Oxford Bar for pints and World Cup fever. The barkeep changed Tord's name to Jimmy MacDougall, just out of prison. While enjoying our pints and watching the Italy-US match, we met an older couple who were going to visit their daughter in New York in September; it would be their first trip to the United States. We stayed at the Bonham and had a fantastic view of the Firth of Forth from our fourth floor room.

I could go to Edinburgh again in a heartbeat.

Now...Only a few more days until the start of Nanowrimo. I have been scribbling notes for how I'd like this year's Nanowrimo novel to progress. So far, I have ten pages of notes. At first I wasn't sure what I would write about. I thought I'd just let the muse lead me--which I did last time. But this time, I've decided to write a romance. Okay, the last novel was sort of chick lit/romance and so is this one... Anyway, I decided to write this year's novel because I read someone else's novel, hated the female main character [who was just so god-awful annoying I wanted to slap her] and thought, "This book sucks! I could write a similar story better!" So I'm going to put my money where my mouth is and set about doing just that. On November 1 I will be typing away, trying to get at least 3000 words written of my 3000 word/day challenge. Once it's done, I ought to have a good enough first draft to use as a springboard for a good revision, which could then be sent out to agents.

We shall see, we shall see...

2006-10-16T22:30:00.000+02:00

Nanowrimo and Thanksgiving

Every November there are two things I know I can count on: the start of Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month--which is actually International, and not just National) and Thanksgiving.

Now I cannot claim to be one of those Nanowrimo veterans who've participated from the word "go". I first found out about it in 2003 when Rebecca, a fellow SWGer (although she is in New Mexico for the time being) told me about it. Back then, I didn't have time to participate. I was teaching close to 40 hours/week and barely had much time for myself, much less trying to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. But I signed up in 2004, participated and was one day late hitting the 50,000+ word deadline. On 1 December, I managed to complete my 51,500 word manuscript, which I have now decided to revise and see if I can do anything with.

I'd planned on participating in 2005 but I'd just started a new job with loads of papers to grade, and it didn't leave me with a great deal of free time. I spent the entire month of November grading student essays and hardly any time writing.

This year, however, I have a better plan. My students' first draft of their argumentation essay isn't due until the first week of November--and I will not be collecting it. They will complete a peer review workshop. I won't see a draft of the paper until the second or third week of November, which--hopefully--will give me enough time to get a headstart on my Nanowrimo novel.

The only thing that could possibly throw me a little off course is my intense longing to be in the States for Thanksgiving. I have not been Stateside for Turkey Day since 1994. I moved to Sweden in 1995 and have come home for such occasions as Christmas, my dad being admitted into a nursing home after multiple strokes and my brother's wedding/my grandmother's funeral. Last Christmas wasn't so great--on Christmas Day, I was debilitated with the migraine from hell and was out of commission most of the day. Plus, it's not so wonderful to feel so awful--I couldn't open my eyes because they were so sensitive to light, and my ears ached because any sound that was too loud made me feel like my head would explode just like in Scanners--and suddenly have my sister screaming at her daughter over something that, in the long run, was not very important.

I was nauseous all day, thanks to the migraine. I didn't get out of bed until close to 4PM. Even then, I didn't want to get dressed, because I was afraid that something would trigger the migraine again. But I was lucky--the evil migraine dissipated, and I was able to sit down to dinner with my family without anything triggering another attack.

Anyway, now I am thinking I should go home for Turkey Day. It's not necessarily the best planning: my students will be planning to hand in their portfolios and I will be away for ten days (if I book the tickets). But I really really really miss my mom and my nieces. I miss my crazy brother--and there's even a smidgen of me that misses my sister. But I am also just homesick, period. I know it will not be the Utopian Thanksgiving memory I have in my head (which probably never existed in the first place) but I just want to be in the US again, even if it is only for ten days, and listen to Philadelphians bitching and moaning about whatever it is they usually bitch and moan about.

I want to eat a cheesesteak the day after Thanksgiving, take a long walk, go to Reading Terminal and buy some cookies for my mom's and my evening snack, buy some new flannel pyjamas for my husband (especially since I can never find good quality flannel pyjamas in Sweden, despite how effin' cold it is hereduring the winter!) and maybe indulge in my favorite extravagances: books and shoes.

I know if I come for Christmas I will have more time, but this year I am actually looking forward to a calm, Swedish Christmas.

So I will I have to budget my time well. I want to complete Nanowrimo on time and manage to spend Turkey Day in Philly. Let's keep our fingers crossed that I manage to do both. :-)

2006-10-06T18:18:00.000+02:00

Stockholmers: Saying "excuse me" doesn't cost a dime (or even a krona)!

One of the first things I noticed back in 1995 when I first moved to Sweden was that Stockholmers were adverse to the concept of saying "excuse me" if someone was standing in their way. Instead, they preferred to use what I like to call Swedish Mindmeld, which doesn't work on non-Swedes. Is it really that difficult to say "excuse me" or "pardon me" or even "ursäkta"? It isn't as though it costs anything (other than a little air in your lungs) to be polite.

That's right, Stockholmers, saying "ursäkta" will not drain your wallets or your bank accounts.

So what is this Swedish Mindmeld? Don't get excited--it's not a sex-game or even remotely titillating. Swedish Mindmeld involves standing there staring at you (or the back of your head) and trying to will you to move aside. If that doesn't work, then they just knock past you as hard as they can and then make a noise that sounds something like "hmph" or "ooof". This is usually punctuated by a supposedly meaningful glare. Then they stomp off, triumphant that they have regained control of the situation.

By now you're either laughing and thinking this can't be true or you're nodding in recognition because you've been through it too. After eleven years of living in Stockholm, I don't get too annoyed anymore by it--well, that's a bit of a fib, else I wouldn't bewritingg this. Most of the time, I ignore it. Every now and again, I mentally toss a curse on the person who knocked me out of the way so they could get on the bus before me so that they could walk even slower than I was in their pursuit of an empty seat. To be honest, it's not even worth the hassle of getting too angry. It's become more of game these days.

Today, though, it bugged me. And I think the reason it bugged me was because it was an older couple, and they were ruthless in their quest to make sure that they boarded bus 53 before anyone else. Now, my parents raised me to respect my elders. I nearly always offer my seat on the subway or bus to older people if there are no other seats available. When not surrendering my seat to the elderly, I do so for pregnant women and people on crutches. As I was standing at the bus stop, I noticed two elderly couples and thought, when the bus comes, I'll let them get on ahead of me. It seemed like everyone else was thinking the same thing to because, when the bus pulled in, people were trying to move aside for the elderly couples. The only people who didn't move was a woman who was carrying a sleeping child, holding the hand of another small child and carrying a bag of groceries all at the same time. She didn't see the elderly couples--she was listening to what her daughter was saying. As the bus door opened, the first elderly couple eased around the young woman and said "ursÃ¤kta"--she moved aside and smiled an apology at them.

The other elderly couple, however, shoved the woman, nearly knocking her over. Her sleeping child almost fell, the bag of groceries fell out of the woman's left hand and her other daughter lost her balance and hit her knee on the sidewalk. I went over and helped the woman gather her groceries again while she tried to calm down her daughters. And what did the second elderly couple do? They sneered at her as they climbed onto the bus, shook their heads and made comments about how she ought to respect her elders. That really got my goat!

After I'd helped the woman, I let her and her daughters get on the bus ahead of me. And do you know what sight greeted me once I'd boarded? That same elderly couple dithering in the middle of the aisle about where to sit, thereby preventing everyone else from making much progress. A man in his thirties eased around them and took a seat. They grumbled and muttered how rude he was. Then, when the next passenger, a teenager with a skateboard, tried to go around them, the old woman lashed out at him, bellowing at him in Swedish, "You were not raised properly!"

Well, after a while, the cantankerous (second) older couple decided they would not sit after all. They stood in the midsection of the bus, where people with baby carriages or luggage usually stand. I wondered when they'd leave the bus and who they'd terrorize next. I should have known it would be me.

When I disembarked at the Sabbatsberg bus stop, they were behind me. I was carrying a heavy bag with supplies for the writers' retreat I'll be on all weekend. I knew they were behind me so I moved to the right so I wouldn't block their way. This didn't help. Just as I was stepping off the bus, the old man shoved me! I was quick enough that I didn't fall. As they pushed past me (completely unnecessary since there was plenty of room on the sidewalk) the old man directed a withering glare at me.

I couldn't help myself, I shouted after them: "You weren't raised properly, were you?!?!"

2006-09-26T15:54:00.000+02:00

Every little thing he does is magic...

Every now and then my husband does or says something and it reminds me why I fell in love with him in the first place. Don't get me wrong--I adore Tord, love his slightly crooked nose, love that he actually enjoys washing dishes...I love that he calls his parents just to chat and that he sends me silly text messages when he's out having beers with his buddies. But these aren't the things that remind me of why I fell in love with him way back in 1993.

So what happened that ... It sounds so trite now but this morning he started reminiscing about all the trips we've taken together. He looked so cute this morning in his long-sleeved t-shirt and plaid flannel pyjama pants. His always messy hair was even messier thanks to bedhead. And his voice still sounded like it was caught in the land of dreams. But it was his smile that really did the trick. He looked so boyish--he looked exactly the same as when we first met, and I felt giddy inside because of it.

And then, when he realized I wasn't working from home today and had to teach a class, he looked so forlorn. It was worth missing the first commuter train just to give him an extra hug and kiss this morning.

I know it sounds sappy, but he is the only one for me.

2006-09-18T22:53:00.000+02:00

Oh the joy of having strep throat!

Last weekend I had one of those Catch-22 moments that make you hate socialized medicine. Now, before anyone flames me and reminds me of how expensive healthcare in the States is and how I should count myself lucky that I live in a country with subsidized medical care, please note that most of the time I haven't got much to complain about when it comes to the Swedish healthcare system.

For the most part, my experiences with Swedish doctors and nurses have been quite good--my husläkare, Dr. Mohlin, is great. He's a first-rate doctor who listens to his patients and doesn't treat us like we're imbeciles. Ditto for the district nurse at Läkarhuset. I've only met her twice but both times I've really been pleased with the level of care and service she gives.

The same can't be said, however, for my experience with gynecologists in Stockholm, which has been less than stellar. Of the five I've tried, only two have been good. The best of the two retired and left me in the care of a replacement who had no bedside manner and made no eye contact with me during the two hours I was in her office. She also ignored the notes the first doctor had made regarding the cysts on my ovaries and refused to give me the medicine I needed to continue the prescribed treatment, claiming that I didn't really need the medicine. It wasn't until I was forced to return to her office on three more occasions because of problems related to the cysts that she finally relented and extended my prescription. She was the worst of the three really awful gynecologists--the other two...well, let's just say it was like being in an office with cardboard cutouts who didn't seem to understand what PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) was and didn't care.

But I digress. I was talking about last weekend and socialized medicine.

On Saturday, I woke up unable to swallow and covered in sweat. I had a very high fever and my throat felt like it was crammed full of barbed wire and glass. I thought, Christ, this feels like strep throat. I wasn't sure immediately so I figured I'd see how it went the rest of the day. Well, I was feverish--with my fever peaking at around 39.3C--and my throat worsened. I called Närakuten at the neighborhood hospital. You see, if it's not a serious emergency, you can't just drop in at the weekends. You have to make an appointment. And, since my husläkare isn't on duty at the weekends, I have to follow Närakuten's protocol. I spoke to a male nurse and gave him all the necessary information regarding my illness. Here's the spirit of what was said after I told him how ill I was:

Him: You have a cold.
Me: My tonsils don't normally swell when I have a cold.
Him: You should drink plenty of water and eat some yoghurt if you can't swallow.
Me: Can I come in for a throat culture?
Him: No, because I think you only have a cold.
Me: Even with this high of a fever, you think it's only a cold?
Him: Yes. Drink plenty of water, eat some yoghurt and call back tomorrow if you still think there is something wrong with your throat.
Me: So I can't come in even for an examination?
Him: No,because I think it's just a cold. It will go over in a few days.

What could I do? I couldn't go to another Närakuten. I had to go to the one in my neighborhood. And they wouldn't let me come in. So I waited until Sunday morning. My throat was even worse. My fever was high again (and had been for most of the night). I called at 8:00 a.m. and spoke to a female nurse this time. I told her about my throat, yada yada and she said....

Her: I think you have a cold.
Me: I don't think it's a cold. I've had strep throat before and this feels exactly the same as the last time I had it.
Her: Your throat can feel like that if you have a cold, too.
Me: I'd feel better if someone would at least examine me.
Her: I can hear that you have a cold.
Me: Uh...how exactly can you hear that?
Her: You sound nasally.
Me: I always sound nasally, I'm from the East Coast of the US.
Her: What?
Me: Nevermind, look, couldn't I come in for a throat culture? I'm pretty certain this is strep throat.
Her: No, call your husläkare tomorrow. I don't think there is anything wrong with you other than a cold.

So I gave up. I called my doctor this morning before I went to work and told him all about my symptoms. And what did he say? "It sounds like you have strep throat. You'd better come in for a throat culture."

I went to his office this afternoon. He took a swab of my tonsils and a few minutes later he confirmed that I had strep throat. Now I am on penicillin for the next ten days.

Why the hell does it have to be so difficult sometimes just to get an exam? I had all the classic symptoms of strep throat--and not a cold--and yet these nurses at the hospital refused to listen to me.

Sadly, this is a story I often hear from friends and colleagues.

Ah well, thank God Dr. Mohlin is there when you need him.

2006-09-14T14:00:00.000+02:00

Celebrating Rejection

Karin, who is my SWG writing buddy, and I made a pact a few weeks ago: to send five query letters pitching our novels to agents in the States and the UK. We aren't naive--we know agents receive hundreds of queries every week from people just like us--all asking the same thing: read my novel!

We knew the chances of getting a request for more straight off the bat were slim-to-nil so we decided we'd celebrate every rejection letter we received. How shall we do that? Glad that you asked--the first one to receive a rejection letter buys the first round of drinks at Belgo Bar, the first one to receive a rejection letter with positive feedback stands for the snacks. Sounds like a good deal, huh?

Well, this week we both receive rejection letters. Karin received hers first (on Monday, I think); mine turned up yesterday. At first, I was a little dismayed to receive a rejection letter but that spurt of negativity only lasted all of five minutes. Then I thought, Wait, now I have even more time to revise! Yay! Besides, right now I am testing the waters to see if any interest could be there for my novel while I finish revising it and start writing my new book.

So we celebrated our joint rejection with Chimay beer (for me) and white wine (for Karin). We then discussed what is our next plan of action. We still have four letters floating around out there. I have already found another agent to pitch my novel (working title: Second Skin), as has Karin. Neither of us is remotely depressed--we're keyed up--ready to send out even more letters. We're also looking into attending some writers' conferences. Until then, we have our writers' retreat in October.

A toast to rejection letters! Bring on the Belgian beer! Stir those martinis, baby!

2006-09-09T15:02:00.000+02:00

A little bookstore across from Vasaparken...

All summer I've been scoping out various new enterprises in Vasastan and Birkastan. One of them is Xoco on Rörstrandsgatan, a luxury dessert café located in Dalpojken's former premises. I tried it out yesterday and enjoyed my caffè latte and dark chocolate brownie. Dunno if I agree with the owner re: France having the world's best chocolate desserts...I have had to-die-for chocolate desserts in Brussels but was very disappointed when I was in Paris. Well, I haven't been everywhere in France so maybe I will have to travel around that country more and try out more desserts (more F & S for you, Kim!) before I give a definitive answer.

The other venue I've spent the entire summer watching is New York Stories, an English-language bookshop on Odengatan, just across from Vasaparken--my neighborhood patch o' green. The bookstore finally opened today, and I dragged Tord there to check it out with me. I was so glad to find it was a real New Yorker who'd opened the store and not one of these trendoid types you often find here in Stockholm--you know the ones I mean: the namedropping, I've-been-to-New-York-twice-and-I-think-I-am-an-expert-on-all-things-American type, the look-at-me-as-I-curse-in-English-because-it's-so-much-cooler-than-cursing-in-Swedish type, the too-perfectly dressed to truly be Bohemian...enough of that rant--there are plenty of these trendoids in Stockholm and they drive me up a wall.

So when I walked into New York Stories and heard the dulcet tones of a New Yorker--my heart leapt with joy. I am not a New Yorker and would never claim to be an expert on the city (hell, I am a transplanted Philadelphian and proud of it) but it's always nice to meet another East Coaster--especially one who loves books just as much as (if not more so than) I do. I found a place where I can buy a cute journal, where I can buy the sort of short story anthologies I rarely find at other bookstores here in Stockholm unless I special order them--and I can walk there, pick up a book (as I did today) and then head to Robert E's further down Odengatan for a cup of hot chocolate, or head to Kharazmi for latte and baklava...mmmm!

Yes, I think I have found my new hangout for the long dark Swedish winter (besides my favorite café, Kharazmi where I'll be writing nearly every day).

Thank you for opening New York Stories--it reminded me so much of the independent bookstore I used to shop in when I lived in Philly!

I shall live on the euphoria of this for a while...

2006-09-05T16:24:00.000+02:00

Last year, after more than ten years of not having a bike (if you don't count the one I had but never rode which was stolen from my storage unit a few years ago), I bought a bike--a gorgeous dark purple bike I christened Huckleberry. I love my bike--I may not ride him as often as I should(yes, I decided my bike was male) but I love him. He gets me from the gym in Solna back to my apartment in Vasastan in less than 15 minutes. We tool along Nörr Mälarstrand together from time to time. I even ride him to work when the weather is nice.

The only problem is that I am not a confident bicyclist. I know all the traffic rules, etc but I don't trust the other people on the road. It takes all of my courage not to get too frightened when I am biking and the bicycle lane ends. I usually keep my cool but inside I am nervous when on the road. Other bicyclists probably think I bike too slowly for their tastes--I don't care. I pace myself based on the rest of the traffic around me and on if I have to be somewhere in a hurry. Sometimes a bike ride is just for pleasure.

Yesterday I was riding my bike along Olof Palmes Gata when I saw a lorry closing in on me. I was in the far-right lane and figured he had enough space to pass me. Apparently, he didn't agree. He veered into my lane, cutting me off --- next thing I knew I slammed into the curb and nearly flew off Huckleberry. Luckily, I regained my composure and control of my bike fairly quickly. The lorry driver was already speeding away, now back in the left lane. And all I could think as I continued the rest of the way home was, Bastard! BAS-TARD! BASTARD!!! I have to fix the handlebar on my bike now. It's nothing serious. I think I just need to tighten a screw, but it's pretty loose at the moment. I'll fix it tomorrow.

2006-09-02T18:41:00.000+02:00

I don't have a driver's license. I never saw the point in one until now. I, like a lot of Stockholmers, have fallen in love with the Mini. I already know what color I want mine to be: charcoal gray with white racing stripes. I can already envision myself behind the wheel, tooling around Stockholm and environs while Audioslave blasts through the car speakers. Beside me, Tord will read the map but I'll know where I'm going.

Now I just have to learn how to drive. I should have learned in high school but I had a bike and a bus card so I didn't care about driving. Besides, car insurance costs in Philly were astronomical and my parents had already decided that if we wanted to learn to drive we had to pay for everything associated with it ourselves I became a frequent patron of SEPTA and taxis. And here in Stockholm I am still a patron of SL (Stockholm's version of SEPTA) and taxis.

When I first moved here, I told myself I'd learn to drive. But back then getting a driver's license in Sweden was so expensive I decided investing in SL was a better idea. I could have happily gone on not caring about a driver's license if it weren't for the relaunch of the Mini and a long-standing wish to spend an entire summer in Italy. I figure, if I have my license, I can rent a car while in Umbria and drive around until I can't stand the beauty of that province any longer--as if that would happen!

So I just have to work up the nerve. I've already got my friends Sara and Grace hounding me about getting a license. Plus I know Tord is dreaming of roadtripping our way across the US, which I think sounds like a mighty fine idea. Much as I love Philadelphia, I don't want to spend every waking moment of my vacations in the US in the City of Brotherly Love.

I'm getting closer to going to driving school--I've actually made a list of three I am considering. One is conveniently located just 200 meters from my apartment. My main criterion is that I want to learn to drive an automatic, not manual car. I don't give two hoots about changing gears and remembering to release the clutch. Let the car do that. I just want to drive.

If I'm lucky, I'll have actually taken a course, passed the written test and the road test by December or January.

Let's see what happens next.

By the way, I finished writing my short story. I spent six hours writing today. I think I deserve a cocktail now.

2006-09-01T14:58:00.000+02:00

The answer to that question is, of course, yes.
I had it all planned out: I was going to eat lunch with my writing chicas, go to the bank and find out what happened to my new Visa card (which seems to have mysteriously disappeared in the mail) and sit on my balcony and write for a while.

The first two items I took care of with ease. It's never a problem to go to Kharazmi, my favorite café in Stockholm, and eat lunch with my SWG (Stockholm Writers Group) chicas. Going to the bank is usually something I avoid--I hate the queues, I hate having to take a number and just sit and wait wait wait while the person ahead of me blathers on about not understanding how to use a Bankomat. But I was lucky today--I only had to wait five minutes, ordering a new card took less than five minutes--which should have left me with plenty of time to write...

And then I saw something I had to have (or at least try): a patterned silk blouse at Indiska on Odenplan.

Okay, I didn't actually see it from the street--I'd scoped it out a few days ago--but I had to try it on, didn't I?
Now this little detour only took ten minutes. I tried on the blouse, I fell in love with it, I bought it.
The next detour was actually necessary: I had to go to the pharmacy to pick up nasal spray. And since I can't use regular nasal spray--it makes my nasal passages swell instead ofdecreasee in size--I had to discuss alternatives with the pharmacist. This didn't take long--we found a good over-the-counter spray, and I was out of the pharmacy in a matter of minutes.

I came home with still plenty of time to write but then something awful happened: my husband turned on the TV and I became mesmerized by Oprah Winfrey.

Lately, I've been watching Oprah all the time. I never used to watch Oprah. I think the last time I watched her show on a regular basis was back in 1987-88 when I was a freshman in college and my friends and I would watch Oprah while avoiding studying. The only thing I can think of that has led to this Oprah coma is that I am still hanging on to the idleness of this summer--a pretty damned good summer by Swedish standards, and watching Oprah lets me pretend I am still on vacation.
So now Oprah is off and Tord is playing Halo 2 so why aren't I writing now?

That's a good question. I told myself if I blogged I could say I was writing. I know it's a cop-out so I am going to sign off soon.

But to answer my question--why aren't I writing? There are a lot of answers. The project I'm working on feels like it's hit a brick wall. I'm revising the first draft of a novel it took me a billion years to write and I'm a little more interested in it than my ghost story-weird Edinburgh story. But mostly I think I am not writing because I just feel like I need a break. Catherine from SWG would probably thump me on the head and order me back to my laptop but sometimes a break is a good thing.

Besides, I've already started writing a short story I really like. That's not so bad, is it?