Moving Day

Moving Day has finally come. We are no longer in the Flea Market and in a better setting. If not an emptier setting. Empty is OK with me though, I'll take it.

Sunday, we met the owner at noon and she was to give us the keys and tell us what information she had to give us. She had warned us that the cleaning people were going to be there all weekend and we would not be able to move in until after they were through. In Sweden they are very big on using "professional" cleaners and you can never move in until they are through. It seems to take a really long time from what I have noticed.

We get upstairs to the door and when she sees it is locked she is in disbelief that the cleaners have not been there. Great. All in all, it is a big fluster cluck and she finally gets the cleaners over at about 1:30. He shows up with a team of ladies and they are done by about 5:30. In the meantime we move all of our stuff, about 20 boxes and five or six suitcases, using a dolley cart because it is only about a block's distance. It is a first. Though we have moved numerous times, we have never moved via foot before.

We come in and out with our stuff and it completely has the cleaning ladies disorientated because we are not supposed to be there. We are not supposed to be there until after they leave. It is the way it is always done. Except, the guy who runs the show had to cut us some slack because they neglected to show up on time because of some sort of miscommunication. His name is Michel and he is from Turkey as so many of the entrepreneurs we meet are. The more we come across them the more I like them. They are always friendly, down to earth and extremely hard working. (generalizing again, Lex! LOL, I am always going to think that)

I am without internet for the next few days. Actually I have this broad band card that is only getting three bars. The owners accidentally packed the cable modem in with their stuff with them to the UK. They are supposed to ship it back. We can not figure out the TV. They have a magnet induction stove top that it took me about an hour to figure out. Apparently, it has to sense that there is a pan on the surface to switch on. And they have some sort of condensor dryer, that I have not a clue what to do with.

All in all, it's been a crazy three days. I sent my daughter off for a week long camping trip with her class to the archipelago and almost missed getting her to the bus. Forgot to get a cake for a fika and had to run out this morning at seven am to get one.

Good times.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

I went to the PTA meeting for my son's class today. As a general rule, I try to avoid any place where large groups of women congregate unless shoes or purses for purchase are involved. However, I went in today armed with an open mind and low expectations.

Actually, this was the second PTA meeting I have gone to. The first was the "business" meeting, this was more of a get to know each other coffee. It was pleasant, as these things always are in the beginning. It isn't until later that you realize it is still very much like the social constructs you left behind in high school.

During the meeting the nurse came in to talk about the swine flu and immunizations. Then an American woman took the stage and went into a 20 minute lesson about head lice. It was a full demonstration. She had some special small comb and a homeopathic tincture she bought from the health food store. She was showing us how she combed her kids' hair each morning as a preventative measure. I nodded off about three minutes into the presentation, as I generally do so I really could not tell you what other tips of the trade she was sharing.

She was clearly spending a lot of time, effort, thought and resources into combatting these little head squatting creatures. As I looked around the questions were coming at her rapid fire and everyone had the same look of abject fear I must have.

Initially, before slipping under, I was horrified. Lice? "Is this a common thing?" I asked the two Swedish women I was sitting with. One woman who looked extremely irritated answered, "No, this is crazy".

Another American woman in the room, maybe her assistant in all this, was as animated and as concerned about the impending lice epidemic. And it hit me. Aaaaaaah, good old American neuroticism. So, I laughed and said to the Swedish woman, "Oh, it's an American thing". We kind of laughed a bit about the hand sanitizer and the antibacterial soaps. A little self deprecating humor is always a good thing and a little disarming. She then said "Yes, anytime there is anyone on the room asking 100 questions it's always the Americans"

Hey now... they may be neurotics but they are MY neurotics.

Anyhow, I figure the truth is probably somewhere in the middle. True--American's tend to over worry and try to control their environments to a huge extent. Also though, Swedes tend to gloss over negative attributes about their society, avoid unpleasantries or to even be in denial about many things.

Red Light, Green Light

When they say pedestrians have the right-of-way, they really mean it in Sweden.

There are two different types of crosswalks in Stockholm. The first is with a light system allowing you to cross when it shows a green little man walking. The second is a cross walk with no light. In these crosswalks, pedestrian trumps driver and here a pedestrian can cross at any time.

If a car sees a pedestrian it must stop on a dime to let them go. The crazy part is--they actually do. I have seen many cars come to screeching halts to let the cross walkers cross. It seems backwards to me because I think it's much easier to stop your legs than to stop a 3,000-4,000 pound car.

Even more mystifying is the unwavering faith that the crossers seem to have that the cars will always stop. They obliviously cross even as a car is speeding toward them. Half the time they do not even give a glance as though maybe they have some apprehension. That maybe this vehicle could be the one that was going to keep going.

It think maybe it has something to do with an almost child-like naivety many Swedes seem to have. A microcosmic sized example of self preservation taking a backseat to the belief in the system.

European Grooming

I can not really say this is an expose on Swedish grooming because, over all the Swedes seem better than most Europeans. However, I do see a bit of it here also. By "it" I mean just an overall lack of grooming. What got me thinking about this was the "Back to School" meeting at my children's school last week. I had noticed that all the men looked to be about a good month out form a haircut. I found it strange that one wouldn't have themselves spruced up for the event. Lasting first impressions and all that.

It is a common sight. Eloquently dressed in a nice suit, nice tie, good shoes and a complete wreck from the shoulders up. Sometimes, I think it is purposeful. They are going for that Sven look. You know what I mean, the windswept blonde almost surfer look. And do not get me wrong, it can be a good look, if you are 22. At 42 and in a business suit, it's just plain puzzling. There is something about age that lends itself to good grooming anyway. Lack of grooming just doesn't work for you the way it used to.

Many times though, it is not intentional. The hair creeping onto the neck, the nose hairs, the hairy moles, over grown mustaches that cover the teeth...all of it not planned. All of it unpleasant for those around the offender.

It is true that most American's have a compulsion for overall cleanliness. It is to the point where some experts claim our environments are so sterile it could actually be harming our children's immune systems. Hand sanitizers, antibacterial everything..I have friends who would need biological warfare suits to get on the subways I ride everyday. I like trying to spot the Americans. They typically don't blend.

What is even more of a mystery to me is the fact that salons/frisors are every third storefront here in the city. So, clearly, there is a lot of haircutting and grooming going on. I've never seen so many beauty salons. I am not sure who is keeping these guys in business. Maybe it is all the Svens getting their highlight regrowth done.

The Singing Sverigiachis

There is a commercial here for Bredbands bolaget that features a group of mariachis coming out of a suitcase singing in Swedish. Click here for link You can file that one under, things I would have never seen ten years ago. Happily, I can report that Mexicana has reached Scandinavia. Coming from an border state in the United States, Arizona, I have grown to appreciate our hybrid mix of all things American with a little salsa flair.

Every burger place in Stockholm seems to be running a special on the Tex Mex or Mexican version of their burger. Max Burger is even getting in on the game and offering up a Crunchy Nacho Burger. The Mexican food section of any grocery store is rather impressive. While you won't yet find refried beans or New Mexican style green chile, you can get some decent jarred salsas, flour tortillas and seasonings. Enough to cobble together a fix for any south of the border cravings.

Sometimes, though, they get it wrong. I ordered a chicken club sandwich last night with a "tex mex" sauce. Really, I should know better than this. I have had enough odd concoctions that have been labeled as Tex Mex or Mexican to know the outcome is less than certain. When the sandwich came out it had the undeniable yellow color only found in the one spice I have zero fondness for-- curry. No, no, no--you will never find curry in anything Mexican, except maybe outside of North America.

This penchant for Mexican food makes me wonder if thinking outside the bun™ or perhaps a run for the border™ is not in Scandinavia's future? I could really use a gordita right about now.

Using the ATM

I finally got my bank card a few weeks ago. There are a few things I really do not have the patience to stop and take the time to do. Stopping to buy gas, going to the bathroom and using the ATM are among the top three. Little annoying pieces of time banditry that take away from more productive past times like being on the internet.

Well, getting gas is no longer an issue. Using the ATM is, although, now it is using the ATM while everything on the screen is in Swedish. I have it down to a basic routine as long as the screens do not change. Well, yesterday they did. A little stress inducing to say the least.

Usually, I make my husband come with me. I am not really sure why as he knows less Swedish than I or the kids do. Yesterday I was feeling brave, so I went it alone. I put in my card, the usual screens came up. I typed in my pin, typed in my amount and, yikes, a completely foreign message popped on the screen. Ofcourse, at this point the line behind me was four deep.

I could not make out what the screen was saying. I just wanted my card back. It was the longest 30 seconds of my life and I was certain I was never going to see my card again as I bargained with God about being a better person and never using the ATM again if I could just see my card one more time. I tried my luck and pressed the button that said something about a receipt and presto, my card was back. My ATM card never looked so good.

I stepped back and let the queue file through and what do you think I did? I tried it again. Like some sick masochist, I went back for a second round. Only this time I knew to press the kvitto button. I was convinced that, maybe, I did something wrong. I think it was telling me it was out of 100 kronor notes and I had to take out a minimum of 500 kronor. I am pretty sure that was what it was reading.

This Place is Falling Apart

Nine days and counting until I am outta the Flea Market. But I am here to tell you, this place is falling apart and it's nothing we are doing. Just because I can not stand the place doesn't mean I am deliberately treating things badly. It is just a case of bum luck, bad timing, whatever you call it.

Two weeks ago the washer stopped working. Last night the freezer stopped working. Thankfully, I have successfully cracked myself into the laundry room but it takes me three hours to do the laundry every four days! Thank God for Mark Levin podcasts.

I pulled down a shade, it refuses to go back up. The ironing board, which had some jimmy rig repair, fell apart. I am truly afraid of what else can self destruct in the next nine days. I keep having bad visuals of us on some Swedish version of Judge Judy.

No freezer means no ice...for nine long days. I feel like I am camping.