Påsklov

Easter has come and gone for another year. Like most holidays I take, I was quite glad when it came time to go back to work again. Holidays always look so inviting from a distance. Rest, relaxation, and all that. Why is it then, that I seem to end up doing more work during a holiday period than I do during a normal working day ? Of course, it might just be that I'm a lazy arse at work. But I'm pretty sure that's not it. Påsk, in Sweden, begins officially on Friday, and ends on Monday. As in most countries. Sweden seems to have an enormous number of public holidays. One of their more endearing qualities. It doesn't even really need to be anything specifically Sweden related either, it would seem. I reckon they would have a public holiday to celebrate Venusuela Independance Day, if they thought they could get away with it. What amuses me the most, is how they deal with the day BEFORE a public holiday. Public holidays are known as Red Days, as that's the colour they are on the calendar. Simple enough. Being the socially concious people that they are, Sweden has decided that Swedes need to have a holiday BEFORE the holiday. So that they can get ready for the actual holiday day itself. Follow ? So, on the day BEFORE a Red Day, most Swedish businesses work just a 5 hour day. Closing generally at 2pm. 5 hours would actually be until 1pm, but naturally we need to stop for a one hour lunch break in the middle. And, of course, what's the point of working for just 5 hours ? Better to take the whole day off. So the Thurday before Easter is generally written off. As is the whole of the following and preceding weeks. What's the point of working for just 4 days ? The end result is that Easter in Sweden starts some time in early March, and finishes in late May. Just in time for the summer holidays.

First Day SFI jitters

Thought it might be of some help if I posted a bit about what to expect from the first day at SFI. From my own experience. I had absolutely no idea what I was walking into, other than the acceptance that I was likely to be the thickest kid in class. I attended an enrolment "assessment" meeting the previous week. With 2 of the SFI teachers. I can't recall for certain, but I had a feeling that was in Swedish. Fortunately my dearly beloved Swedish wife was in attendance. The purpose of the interview was to determine which class mix I would be best suited for. There are 4 levels to SFI, A through D. And the classes are divided accordingly. Level A is for people who have had very little education in their homeland. Level B is the general start point for most people. The rules around these levels are a bit vague, and it's not always easy to know what level you are studying at. It's a subjective grading, determined by the teachers. Let's say that you and another student are studying the same piece of text. You understand it pretty well, but your classmate is struggling. You'll be regarded as working at a "C" level, while your classmate may be regarded as a "B" level student. Even though you are both doing exactly the same task. So you might need to ask every now and then about what level you're at. There's is a formal exam for people to pass to transition formally from "C" to "D". That exam rule came in after I started the course, so I was exempt from it. I was just told one day, when I asked, that I was Level D. But back to day 1. Arriving at the school I was met in the foyer by my teacher, and by 3 other equally confused "first day" students. We were taken to a private classroom where we were introduced to the basics of the course, given our textbook, and so forth. Worth pointing out here that everything, from the moment you walk in the front door, will be in Swedish. Officially. Which made the first day pretty hard work, for both us and our teacher. But the teachers are excellent and very skilled at dumbing down the language to a level where we can vaguely communicate. With a combination of gestures and sign language. They know that we haven't got a clue. By the end of the first day we had been taught the basics of how to introduce ourselves. "Jag heter Grant", "Jag kommer från Nya Zeeland". Nothing too serious. The point was that we were going to present ourselves the next day to our new classmates, and they would be doing the same back to us. The intro class lasted a day, or it might have only been a morning. Then we were taken to our new classroom, where we all spent the next half hour introducing ourselves. At that point, they largely leave you alone for a while. Letting you listen and try to figure out what's going on, without calling on you to contribute. Active participation is voluntary, but the teachers are pretty good at spotting those who are trying to avoid answering questions. I learnt a good trick early on with regard to group question times. If it was a topic I wasn't very comfortable with, I'd make a point of volunteering to answer one of the very first questions. Even if I got it wrong, I was not going to get called upon to answer any more of the questions. Talk a lot, and they soon get tired of you. They'll then start calling on the people who have been sitting back saying nothing. Worked a treat. A typical school day started at 8:30am. Some days they went through to about 2 or 2:30pm. Another day was only a half day. And it was only a 4 day per week course. But my school might have been really slack. I found the teachers to be quite sociable, and genuinely interested in us. One day each week, 4 of us used to head out for lunch with 2 of our teachers. Although I suspect that was largely due to the fact that they wanted to practice their English. One of my evening class teachers was a chronic chain smoker. I used to sit outside with her on a regular basis before class started. Solving the problems of the world while she puffed another nail in the coffin. So there's a typical SFI beginning. I'm sure that it differs somewhat, from school to school. But the basics will be the same. Pretty scarey walking through the door on the first day, but you start feeling better very quickly. Nothing like the company of fellow idiots to give you confidence and peace of mind.

Nu är det slut.

Big day today. I am officially a graduate of the Svenska För Invandrare kurs, otherwise known as the Swedish For Immigrants course. Mixed feelings, to be honest. As an achievement, it's up there with getting a Swedish driving permit. I've been living in Sweden for 18 months now, and I've spent 15 of those months attending SFI. Leaving the course is leaving a major security blanket for me. I guess that I've been ready for a while. I've been going through the motions in school since Christmas. Waiting for the final exams. It's become more of a social outing, and a bit less of a learning exercise. But I guess that signifies that the school did it's job. To recap the saga, I started out attending day courses, here in Boden. Boy, was that a terrifying first day. I didn't know a word of the language. Well, not enough to be of any use. After 2 months in the class, myself and one of my cellmates were moved to an "advanced" class. While it was a bit trickier than the previous class, it was hampered by an almost complete lack of motivation by the other resident widlife. Still, I was only there for about a month before I started working fulltime in Luleå. My employer required, and rightly so, that I continue my language studies. Commuting back to Boden wasn't really an option, so I switched to evening classes in Luleå. That was a bit of a hassle as the Boden kommun had to pay the Luleå kommun to teach me. That's not a reflection on me, I should point out. At least, I think it wasn't. So I've been attending evening classes two nights a week in Luleå. For almost exactly 12 months. In some ways it was a giant leap backwards. For whatever reason, the Luleå school used a completely different assessment process to that used by the school in Boden. Which meant that my previous work records counted for noting, and I had to start as a nybörjare again. I guess it was only a waste as far as the formalities of the course went. It wasn't as though they were teaching a different language than in Boden. But it meant that, instead of being about 6 months into the official coursework, I now had 12 months of coursework to complete. It was tough some weeks, and I must confess that I was a "no show" several times. But I made the effort to attend at least on evening each week. And I formed some really good friendships, with a class full of very motivated students. Anyway, last week they held the Nationella Provning examinations. There are official exams for people at the C level (which is the second highest in the programme) and at the D level for people finishing. Both sets of exams are virtually identical. For some reason I managed to miss the "C" exams. No one has ever mentioned it. So I sat the D papers. There were two written papers, each lasting about an hour. The first was full of multi choice answers to questions taken from various texts and articles. The highlight of that paper was seeing the word "oförändrad". Didn't have a clue what it meant, but thanks to my wonderful teachers I was able to break it down and end up with "unchanged". Was mighty pleased with myself over that, I was. The second paper involved writing a letter to a newspaper voicing one's opinion. The third part of the exam involved listening to some spoken text, and answering the short questions written on the exam paper. They weren't terribly complicated. Things like "What time will their train leave the station?". The spoken text sections were each no more than about a minute long, and you got to hear each section twice. The final part of the provning was an oral assessment. I was paired up with a West African girl of dubious repute. So I knew we were going to have a fun time. We were given a topic to discuss (read "argue") together in front of three examining teachers. Then we had to front up individually and converse with the teachers on a set topic for about 5 minutes. And then we were done. Overall I have to say that the school prepared me well. The final exams were nowhere near as difficult as the tasks I had to complete as part of my required coursework. Which was very comforting. Although it was also a bit scarey as I was sure I must have been missing something. So that's me done with SFI. 12 assignments and exams in Boden, 14 assignments and exams in Luleå later. It's a huge relief, but I'm REALLY going to miss those guys. I'm only jut starting to realise how much now. I'm going to have to make the effort to keep in touch with them. I'm terrible about doing that, but this is different. I've shared a lot with them, and they with me. I want to continue with my language studies, but that's going to take some figuring out. Luleå doesn't offer the next stage as a part time evening class. So I might see if it can't be done by distance learning. There must be a way, I can't be the first who is both working and studying. A bit more of a debriefing to follow. Once it's all sunken in.

Another night with the U.N.

Couldn't really be bothered going to school last night. Been feeling a bit off colour for a few days now. But, I'm glad that I did. We ended up having a combined class as one of the other teachers was away sick. Or couldn't be arsed turning up. As we were all working at different levels, the lesson plan was quickly chucked out the window. We got split up into groups for an hour of general chat in Swedish. A bit of a time waste, but I got paired up with 4 other people I hadn't met before. Turned out ok though. One of my goals here is to spent some time travelling Russia and the Ukraine. For no particular reason other than that it fascinates me. Ukraine is a bit tricky to get around, from the looks of things. Saint Petersburgh, on the other hand, is just a 90 minute flight from Stockholm. And one can ride a leg of the Trans Siberian railway to Moscow from there. I'm pretty keen on that. So, anyway. We do the standard introductions around our group, and I find out that I'll be spending the next 60 minutes with a guy from Saint Petersburg, 2 girls from Moscow, and a Ukranian grandmother. I couldn't believe my luck. And I couldn't believe that I was considering such a thing to be luck either. To sum up, 60 minutes turned into 2 hours of me quizzing them on their home country. In Swedish, of course. And gettting everything I needed from hotels to bus time tables. I now need to find a group of Egyptian students.

Vinter kläder

Well, it's official. The snow has been lying on the ground around here for 100 days. I haven't done the finger counting, but, from my memory, this latest lot started arriving in early December. So the stats are probably right. Apparently the record for the region is 156 days. Not sure why anyone really needs to know that. On the positive side, it hasn't snowed for 2 days now. And today, I think I saw the sun. I think it was the sun, anyway. Even the temperature has come to the party. It hasn't been below about minus 12 deg C all week. If this keeps it I might have to start calling it summer. Now, they've been quite clever here in the middle of town. At least, they've tried to be. Through the central shopping district, the footpath is warmed by underground heating. So that it doesn't get too icy and slippery during the autumn months. It becomes a problem in winter, however. When the snow is falling too quickly to be melted. So it builds up. And that's ok too. Snow is easy enough to walk on. Problem now is that it's become a little warmer out, and much of the snow has been cleared from the roads and footpaths. The snow that's left on the heated footpath is thawing, then freezing into ice overnight. So it's a bit of a skating rink out there. Right where most of the people are. Good intentions though, and I'm not going to knock them for that. It's tough to know what to wear out at the moment. For the past 3 months I've been happily wrapped up in my Fjäll Raven winter coat. God but I love that coat. Cost a bucket load to buy, but it's been my winter best friend. I can actually get around outside with just a T shirt on under that coat. Until it gets below minus 30. Then I wear a long sleeved T shirt under. Anyone moving up here, that's the coat to buy. Accept no substitutes. I've never once been cold in that coat. And it is as soft as. That's my favourite part about it, I reckon. The trick is to back into a seat on the bus, and let the coat melt itself into the corner of the seat. It's like falling back into a bed of feathers. At least, I imagine that's what a bed of feathers would feel like. Even the hood is soft. It's like you're resting back into a couple of soft pillows. If it weren't against God's law, I'd marry that coat. Which brings me to the worst delimma of all. Now that it's a mere minus 10 outside, I'm sweating like a, well, like someone really sweating, inside that coat. But I'm not convinced it's warm enough yet to move to an autumn jacket (jacka). (Can't believe that I have jackets named after seasons. How sad is that). I think I'll sweat it out for another week before making any firm commitment. It's good for my pores. Ditto for footwear also. I've got a great pair of walking boots that have a thermal insulation rating down to minus 25 deg. Never once been cold in those. Problem is that they don't have the best grip around. And tend to glide a bit over the snow on occasions. Something of a design flaw there. So I tend to favour my summer walking shoes with some good fleecy warm socks. A trade off, but then I'm not walking outside for an hour at a time. My toes are just starting to feel a bit cold by the time I walk the 10 minutes from the bus stop to work. Liveable. I've never been a hat person, I've always felt that was a bit trashy. That theory lasted about 5 minutes once autumn rolled in here. I don't open the door these days without my wool hat (mössa) firmly pulled over my ears. Unlike my winter coat and boots, there's nothing really special about my hat. Just a hat which a mate who worked on a NZ fishing trawler gave me a few years back. I probably should thank him some time. A final mention should go to my closest friends, the långkalsonger. Thermal underwear will never feature in the fashion mags. But they are a way of live up here. It's seems to be perfectly acceptable to wander around the house with just your thermals on. Mind you, that possibly explains why we don't get a lot of visitors. My långkalsonger are a little tired now, and I know that their time is near. But, having seen me through my first couple of winters I don't have the heart to tell them that they have become outdated. I mean, what's a few rips and holes between friends ? I'll give them Easter. They deserve that.

How long is a piece of string ?

Waste not, want not. That seems to be the philosophy here. Well, pretty much. Sweden is a leader in sustainability and waste minimisation. That being said, I don't think I've ever seen so much packaging in my life. Mostly due to the IKEA principle. If you want to buy a nut and a bolt, you have to buy the nut first. Which comes in it's own plastic wrapper. Then you have to buy the bolt that goes with that nut. Again, in it's own packet. I'm all for freedom of choice, but sometimes a bit of common sense wouldn't go amiss. But I'm moving offtrack a bit here. Sweden is a metric system country. So you'll pretty much recognise things, unless you're from one of the few countries still working in feet and inches. However, Sweden being Sweden, they can't just leave well alone. Nope, they've found a unit of measure almost completely unused by the rest of the civilised world, and made it their own. The metric system consits of one, tens, hundreds, and thousands. And so forth. Most metric countries use primarily ones, hundreds and thousands, as the accepted units of measure. 1 millimetre, 500 millimetres, then back to 1 metre again. Sweden, on the other hand, has embraced the decimetre. Yup, such a thing does actually exist. Just nowhere else in the world. So, no 500 millimetres in Sweden, not even one 1/2 metre. In Sweden, we say "5 decimeter". The problem with this is, while it looks perfectly reasonable on paper, us new kids immediately lose a perspective of scale. We know in our mind what 500mm should roughly look like. But 5 decimeter ??? Will that fit through the door ? Who the hell knows. When the length get a bit longer, there's a new game to be played. It's called the "Swedish mil". A lot of people think that Swedes have no sense of humour. I think that the invention of the "mil" proves othewise. The word "mil" is one letter shy of being the English "mile", which is a bit more than one and a 1/2 kilometres. And it also refers to distances. So it would not be unreasonable to link the 2 and think that it's referring to the same distance. Of course, that would also be wrong. A Swedish "mil" is a distance of 10 metric kilometres. For some reason, you'll be struck by lightning and burn forever in hell if you refer to things in kilometres. Once you get past 4km, that is. 5 km is known as "1/2 mil", 10km as "1 mil", and so forth. As with the decimetre, us newbies immediately lose a sense of scale when trying to figure out how far away somewhere is in terms of "mil". 30mil sounds like a half hour trip, not a 3 hour trip. Cars being sold are advertised by the number of "mil" they have travelled, not by the number of km. A car that has travelled 200,000km has travelled just 20,000 mil. Sounds a lot better, doeesn't it. Now, don't go thinking that you've only got to avoid units of length. If only life were that simple. The same rule applies to weights. When buying, say, food, the norm for the rest of the metric world is to buy by the gram, or by the kilogram. Sweden has decided that the correct unit of weight shall be the "hekotgram", or 100 grams. Forget asking for 500 grams of mince. What you need is 5 hektograms. Like our newly acquired friend, the decimetre, the hektogram is a fair unit of measurement, and deserves recognition. But why the hell change what works perfectly well for a couple of billion other people ? If you can find the answer to that, maybe you can convince Sweden to get rid of the bloody "deciliter" also.

Röde Orm

I had to read a book as part of my Swedish language course. Read, write a 2 page report on, and present verbally to the class. In Swedish, of course. First problem was in finding a suitable Swedish book. The problem I had was that every book that was at a suitable level for me, was only about 20 pages long. And usually included "pop up" pictures. So that was a bit of a mission. In the end I went for "Röde Orm", which is a swashbulking tale of a Swedish viking lad in the 10th century. 250 rip roaring pages of pillaging, drinking, fighting, more pillaging, and more drinking. Could have just as easily have been set in Manchester. I won't bore you with the details but the story follows the travels of our hero Orm, as he sails around the place. It details the various unique environments that he finds himself in, and how those experiences change and develop him. As I was thinking about how I was going to present this to my classmates, I began to realise how the story was so much more than a viking tale. Sure, it gave an insight into viking life. But, in many ways, Orm's tale was representative of an immigrant's life. And that's the approach I took for my presentation. Like Orm, we're constantly facing new things in the course of building our new lives here. And those things, in turn, are changing who we are. I remember an old dog breeder lady once telling me that a dog's personality is the product of 20% genetic, and 80 % environment. And I think that may apply to us also. I'm not the same person I was 2 years ago. I've changed a lot since coming to Sweden, in some pretty fundamental ways. Circumstances have meant I've had to learn patience at a higher level. Communication problems have made me more accepting of situations. Suddenly being a minority, has made me more tolerant towards others. Some other changes I'm not so happy about. But I'm sure they are only a result of being dumped out of my comfort zone. And will not be necessary traits over time. All in all, I think that every immigrant is an explorer in some way. In many ways, even with the passing of 1000 years, young Orm and I have a lot in common. Rather sobering when you think about it. I wonder how the people back in my home country would view me today. And how I would view them.

Whodunnit

Well, survived another birthday intact. Pretty quiet affair, really. My brother in law and mother in law arrived round for eftermiddagens (afternoon) fika. Fika is a strange word. It literally means coffee break. But it tends to apply to any type of morning tea, afternoon tea, snack, brunch, or nibble. Any type of food intake that is not covered by breakfast, lunch, or dinner. It includes coffe, of course. And Swedes all appear to drink only black coffee. I don't know, maybe milk is an English thing. But it doesn't stop at coffee. On no. Nope, a fika break always includes several varieties of sweet cakes, bicsuits, buns, and breads. At this point it has progressed way past the point of snack. It's now an officially sanctioned meal. A good rule of thumb is, if you get wind that there may be a fika coming up, starve yourself for several days prior to the event. That night we went out for the evening. Just the 2 of us. which was nice. With work, commuting, language school and horses, we never seem to have a lot of time together apart from collapsing in front of the tv at the end of the day. So it was nice to be almost semi normal as a couple. There's a strange place just outside of our town. Officially it's a Wild West theme park. As one would expect to find in Sweden. Sweden is the home of dansband, so why not. Anyway, they have a large saloon type hall which they use for concerts, shows, corporate dinners, etc. On Saturday night it was a combined dinner and theatre evening. I've always loved live theatre, and Swedes are so enthusiastic actors. Not a lot of Oscars to be won, but they do give it their all. The show itself was a "murder/mystery" evening, played by an acting group touring from the south of Sweden. Just the 5 of them, and one lot of scenery. They played out the performance in 5 parts, stopping for 15 minutes between each part to allow for the next course of dinner to be served. During the break prior to the final act, every member of the audience was given a piece of paper and a pencil, and asked to guess who was the murderer. The true identity was revealed during the gripping final act. All rather exciting. I was really impressed with myself in that I was able to pretty much follow what was going on. Not every word, but enough to comprehend what was being said and what the significance of it was. Well enought to even have an idea about which one of the five actors was the dirty rotten evil scoundrel. Which amazed me. I think it was largely due to it being live theatre. Because actors in theatre performances tend to be a bit over the top with actions, and tend to be quite definite and crisp with the words, it was a lot easy to follow in Swedish than normal conversation. So there's a tip for all fellow new players out there. Go to a Swedish live theatre performance. Just sit there watching and listening for a couple of hours. Between over the top body actions and the slow booming dialogue, you might almost make sense out of it. It's certainly easier than trying to listen to the half dead news presenters on television.

You know you've been here too long when...

I caught myself having a conversation with a workmate about the weather today. Not so unusual. Until I realised that I was knowingly agreeing with his sentiments about how nice it was, now that it was warmer. It is still minus frickin 16 degrees C, fella !! I've lived here too long when minus 16 can be viewed in any way as an improvement, over anything. It's now been snowing for 2 months and two weeks.

Less is More

I read a really good comment on another Swedish blog today. Concerning the government sponsored SFI language course. And the speed of the course. I've also read a lot of people mouthing of about how they "knocked the course off in 3 months". And I wonder how they are faring today. Maybe I'm just a bit slow when it comes to learning languages, this being my first attempt and all. But think about it for a moment: Can you REALLY learn and understand a foreign language in 3 months ? I started off with a hiss and a roar. Ripping through my assignment books and asking to sit a new exam every week. Ticking off each of the 21 levels in my course with a sense of triumph. Then it dawned on me. This isn't about getting an SFI certificate. That wasn't going to help me at all. Finishing the course meant bugger all. I wasn't going to suddenly have implanted in me a Swedish language translation chip on graduation day. The point of the exercise was for me to learn Swedish. Sufficiently well so that I could survive out there in the big cruel world. So my strategy changed. I finished the first 8 of my 21 assignment books in the first 3 months. The final 13 took me a year. And I'm bloody happy about that. A year and a bit of dedicated language study has given me so much more confidence and a much clearer understanding. I'm no Swedish language expert, I figure that's going to take a few years more yet. But what I've learnt, I've retained. And I understand it. And surely that has to be the point. I could have sat every test in 3 months also. Cramming the night before. But how much of it would I really have understood ? How much of it would I have retained after 3 months, with the intensive information overload regime. Sod all, is how much. It's not some state requirement, you don't have to go to school. So why shoot yourself in the foot by trying to get rid of it as quickly as possible ? There are no shortcuts to learning a language. Not in my experience. I needed to pull it apart, start from the ground up. Understanding fully all the whys and hows of language is vital if you intend to be more than a repeating chimp. SFI gets a bad rap around the place. But I'll wager that the negativity comes from people who saw it as a necessary evil to be tick off as quickly as possible, the "3 month" club. Rather than viewing it as a vital tool to building a new life. If you do the bare minimum required to pass a test, it won't be enough. And you'll say that SFI is rubbish. The level of education in an SFI course is limited by your own participation. We had brilliant indepth group discussions that went way beyond the scope of the course. There's no law against that. No teacher jumped in and says "stop talking like that, your Swedish is becoming too good". They loved it. You can only get to that level of confidence if you take the time. Rush it, and you're wasting your time. It's that simple. My advice: So long as you are progressing, make the most of the system and stay as long as you can. It's your life, after all. And there ain't no prizes for finishing first.

The Day After

Well, here I am, still alive. The lying buggers at the Swedish weather office. It was nowhere NEAR -30 deg C yesterday. 20, maybe. But certainly not 30. Mind you, they did get the rest of it pretty well right. If that was my first true arctic blizzard, then I'll be quite happy for it to be my last. I have to confess, that I always wondered what it would be like, to experience a real winter. The last 2 have been relatively tame. In hindsight, I probably should have stuck to wondering. First mistake for the day was in driving to work. I had a few errands to run, but, if ever there was a day to take the bus, yesterday was that day. It was actually ok driving in on the motorway. A couple of dodgy areas where the wind was blasting snow across the road. But manageable. What I didn't know was that the real storm wasn't to arrive for another hour. Being the tight-wad that I am, I don't park inside parking buildings. Not at 10kr an hour. Nope, it's always been the outdoor parking place for me. 3kr an hour I can live with. Yesterday, again in hindsight, it wasn't my smartest decision. By the time I got back to the trusty Volvo at 4pm, I had to dig around in the snow drift to find the door handle. I kid you not. Now, there's a reason why everyone in Sweden owns a Volvo. And it's not for their looks. It's because they work. No matter what, they go. And keep on going. I've owned 4 wheel drive Subarus, and a Landrover. So I was pretty skeptical about the ability of a simple front wheel drive car in a climate like this. But this car starts in a flash and goes exactly where you point it. Every time. Man, I was glad of it yesterday. As I crawled through town, I passed a guy stopped in the middle of a major intersection. He was lying in the snow, frantically trying to dig his Mercedes Benz out of the snow. "Buy a Volvo", I muttered smuggly. Sure, you instantly age 20 years on the inside, the moment you sit in a Volvo. But when you're driving up the motorway at night, through 30cm deep snow, at 90kph, it's blowing and snowing like buggery outside, and it's 22 degrees inside the car, who gives a shit. It probably deserves a bath this weekend, I reckon.

Global Warming

The weather forecast for tomorrow is: -30 degrees C 90kph winds 40-50cm snow You know it's not going to be a lot of fun when the northern office of the Swedish Road Administration, who doesn't stop for anyone, advises people not to drive. Remind me again. Why am I not on a tropical beach somewhere ?

Health and Happiness

Had a great night at Swedish language school last night. We had been given an assignment to find a newspaper article during the week, and then to present the article to another group of students for discussion. Now, being from a small town, there's not a lot of newsworthy happenings. So our local paper is usually padded out with stories of the weird and wonderful. Which suited me just fine for this exercise. Anyway, bottom line was that 7 of us sat around for an hour, discussing the news, and life in general. There we were, Lebanese, Polish, Estonian, Chinese, Kiwi, Vietnamese, and French. A veritable gathering of the United Nations ended up having a right royal bitch session about the shortcomings of the state run pharmacutical outlet, Apoteket. For anyone not familiar with the Swedish healthcare system, prescription pharmacies, all called Apoteket, are government owned and operated. Swedes are a bit paranoid when it comes to drugs, so pretty much anything stronger than an asprin requires a trip to the doctor (läkare), and a prescription (recept). There's the odd private doctor around the place, but, for the most part, doctors are employed by the state. They mostly work out of communal medical centres, known as vårdcentral. Which centre you go to is usually determined by your post code, but they are about to loosen up on that a bit so that you can pretty much go where you want. On a bizarre side note, Apoteket is also the outlet for all animal medicine. Feels a bit odd asking the chemist for laxatives for my cat. They look at you like "sure, for the cat. We believe you. You sicko". One thing they have done well, is their electronic system. Once the doctor (or vet) has typed your prescription into the computer, you can pick it up from any Apoteket in the country. No clumsy pieces of paper. Just flash your ID, and the drugs flow like water. If they have the drugs, that is. I've lost count of the number of times that my prescribed medication has been "out of stock". But the theory's good. So that was our evening. Seven of us from the far flung corners, stumbling around with our Swedish. I really enjoy those nights. They are good, intelligent people. There's no pretence at hierarchy. We're all bollocks, and we know it. And that's kind of a nice feeling. Knowing that when you strip away any home country advantage or status, and make life a true level playing field, that we are, all of us, just the same. There's no race, religion, or cultural distractions. It's a very unique experience, quite surreal. And definitely the highlight of my experiences so far.

God Fortsättning !

New Years Eve. Used to be my best (and usually only) chance of getting laid when I was a lad. Everything’s a hell of a good idea when your 18 and pissed. Funny how things are still a hell of a good idea when you’re 40 something and pissed. Difference is that I used to look forward to getting legless with the legless girl from down the street. These days I dread the aftermath. It gnaws away at me in the days leading up. I know I’m going to be found lying in the gutter somewhere. Yet I’m powerless to stop it. It’s the pure definition of watching the proverbial train wreck. Welcome to Nyårsafton !! For the second year we spent New Year’s Eve at the home of my brother in law. For 364 days of the year, the nicest guy in town. In the space of 6 hours in one evening, it all comes crashing down. At least, the bits of it that my protective brain allows me to remember. I’ll give him credit, you’d be hard pressed to find a more attentive host, this side of a brothel. A spread of food that the Queen Mum herself, God rest her, would have be proud to have rustled up. The purists would probably point out that it’s just the leftovers from Christmas, thawed out and rehashed. But I’m not going to have a bar of that. He put in the effort, and that’s alright in my books. Unfortunately, the same level of enthusiasm extends to the liquid refreshments. Which begin before the shoes come off, and finish long after the last house roof has been torched by the midnight fireworks. I had spent last year analysing the previous party. Trying to pinpoint the exact moment when things went horribly wrong. Call it a pre-emptive strike. I was fine with the pre dinner glögg. No worries with the dinner schnapps. Likewise with the dinner wine. The after dinner cognac seemed ok. Ditto for the various beers. That rather odd looking liquor that came from Hungary didn’t look the best, but seemed harmless enough. Nope, everything was fine until the champagne arrived at 1am. THAT’S when it all went a bit pear shaped. Having isolated the problem, the solution was easy. No champagne for me, thank you very much. I really don’t know what happened this year. Must have been a bad batch of Hungarian cough syrup. Going to have to rethink my strategy.

Surviving the Silly Season

Survived my second Swedish Christmas. A little less traumatic than the previous year, due largely to the fact I knew what was coming. And could prepare accordingly. Christmas can be a great time in Sweden. One thing I'll give them is that they do take their festive seasons seriously. Apart from the obvious lure of pressies, Christmas was never a big deal for me growing up. Maybe that was because it was summer, rather than winter. Which meant that Christmas signalled the start of summer holidays. And got a bit overshadowed as a result. Sure, we had Chrsitmas dinner, and all that. But the day usually revolved around a strictly controlled timetable which included marching dutifully to each set of grandparents before packing up the car ready to launch forth on our annual summer vacation the next day. So not a lot of really fond festive memories there. Swedish Christmas ( and probably all northern hemisphere Christmases ) is a bit more special. And revolves around the occasion itself. Still a good old fashioned piss up, but you do feel a bit more connected to the people around you. At least, that's how it worked for me. If you happen to be working, most companies will finish work either on the 22nd, or midway through the 23rd. Some time shortly after lunch. Short, or half days, are quite common during the course of the working year in Sweden. Usually the day before a public holiday. I have to laugh about this, however. Maybe I just work with strange people, I don't know. But, in my working history, if we had a short day, everyone worked straight through until the designated finish time. Not so, it seems. if we are to finish at 2pm, everyone starts at 8am as usual. Come 11:30am, they all break for a one hour lunch. Come back for an hour and a half, and then wobble off home. Why not just work right through and then piss off home at 1pm, folks ??? Ok, so I've still got some things to learn here. But back to Christmas. Tradition plays a big part, at least in my Swedish family. The evening of the 23rd is the official time for wrapping Christmas presents. The television channels even run late night movies, especially for the occasion. Christmas itself is celebrated on the 24th, rather than the English 25th. But the day itself is a bit of a nothing day. Spent basically cooking and baking for the orgy to follow. Don't underestimate the power for the Swedish Julbord. Starve yourself for a week before Christmas, and wear your best eating pants. We gathered at around 4:30pm for battle ( that's half five in Swedish time). A cup of warm Glögg was thrust into the hand on arrival. Glögg is an ok drink. A bit sickly for me, but ok. The rest of the world calls it Mulled Wine. After the traditional welcoming shouts of God Jul, black slapping, hugging and handshaking, it's down to the business in hand. Swedish Christmas dinner (Julboard) consists of a number of courses. Pacing yourself is the key here, because they do get progressively tougher. The first course it an appetiser course, accompanied by a glass (or 3) of Schnapps. I'm not a big drinker of spirits, so this is an event I really need to prepare myself for. Somehow I always end up sitting next to the family member in charge of the alcohol distribution. No chance for rest there. Back to the battle. The first course consisted of a selection of little things. Usually small fish or fruit pies, and a strange little reindeer meat type pie in a a large glazed shell with a white sauce. Swedes are manic on fish so, if you don't like fish, well, you're basically screwed. Round two, and we're onto the cold dishes. Beer is the drink of the day for this course. Topped off with a selection of cold meats, egg slices, a variety of salads, and about 300 variations of salmon and herring. I don't mind this course too much, especially the beetroot salad, a personal favourite. Now is where the real eaters get sorted out from the amateurs. The warm food course. And the red wine appears on the table. Not that the beer has been removed of course. And the schnapps is continuously topped up by the resident drunk who takes great delight in shouting "skål" every 2 minutes. The warm course consists of freshly cooked ham, meat balls, sausages, boiled potatoes, more salads, and a rather unusual dish known affectionally as Jansonn's Temptation. Now, I don't know anything about this Jansonn bloke, but I would say that it didn't take a lot to tempt him. It's kind of a potato casserole thing, with anchovies added in. For some strange reason. Anyway, by this time you're starting to lose the will to live, so it doesn't really amtter what's getting forced down. Mercifully there is now a break from the eating torture. Of sorts. We adjourn to the lounge room (vardagsrum) and await the arrival of good old Tomten. At this point the eagle eyed amongst us will have spotted that one family member (typically the one most drunk) has disappeared. Apparently he simply HAD to duck out to buy the evening newspaper. And would you believe it, right at that moment, good old Santa arrives ! There's a Swedish custom of Tomten (Santa) arriving in person on Christmas Eve. Someone thought it was a great idea to sell a Santa type mask, which is a one piece item featuring a red hat, white beard, and a face resembling Freddy Kruger after a hard night out with the lads. Honestly, if I were a kid in Sweden, this guy would keep me in therapy for years. Anyway, for about the next 20 minutes a drunken homicidal maniac staggers around the lounge, handing out presents, and groping the kids. Fortunately everyone is so tanked up on schnapps, beer, glögg and wine, that it all appears to be perfectly normal. No rest for the wicked, and it's back to the table for dessert (efterrätt). This is a bit more recognisable for the outoftowners. Follwed up with selections of cheeses, coffees, and now brandy. By the time we staggered out the door shortly before midnight, my nerve senses had long since given up in disgust. Which made the walk home in minus 20 degrees rather pleasant. I reckon I was over the legal limit for driving until about New Years Eve. Which unfortunately is another festival to be endured. More about that disaster later.

Marketing Genius

Thumbing through a Swedish industry magazine today I came across a glossy company advertisement. The headline, in brilliant gold on green lettering read "Vi är din Plan B". Which translates to "We are your Plan B". Now, ok, the company was selling and renting out diesel powered electricity generators. But, geez... Way to talk yourselves up, fellas !!!! If this was anywhere else in the world the headline might be "Use us now before it's too late !" Or something equally demanding and fear inducing. But no, this is Sweden. And in Sweden one says, " well, I guess you could always try us, if all else fails. But we're not promising anything, so it's ok if you don't want to. Honest. In fact, it's probably better if you don't use us. Really.".

Body Language

They reckon that's your body is a temple. If that's the case, then I think my congregation need to start fund raising for a new roof. What I do know is that I am a walking weather station. As I've been reminded of over the past week as winter has closed in. Here's how it works for me. When the temperature hits EXACTLY -15 deg C, the hairs inside my nose start to freeze. I wasn't used to this during the first winter. The first day it happened I thought that something had flown up my nose and had gotten stuck there. I spent several days blowing my nose every time I went out, hoping to dislodge whatever gastly creature it was. It was only when I realised the thing wasn't there when I was inside, that I made the connection. I'm a bit slow that way. When the temperature gets below -18 deg C (18 itself is ok), my eyelashes start to freeze. Well, technically it's my breath that's freezing on my eyelashes. Have you ever tried blinking with rigid eyelashes ? Not as much fun as you think it's going to be. I was a bit worried at first that they might snap off if I wasn't careful, and I'd go through the rest of my life doing a very passable impression of a bullfrog. But no such worries. Once we get below -20 deg C, my ears will last about 2 minutes before screaming out in protest. I've never really been a hat person. Now I am. I'm also a thermal underwear person. I'm a thermal sock person. I understand the concept of dressing in layers. I buy shoes according to their thermal insulation rating. In my Fjäll Raven winter jacket, I've lost the ability to bend at the waist, or to rotate my head more than about 10 degrees from side to side. It's currently +24 degrees inside, and -24 degrees outside. Why the hell am I not on a beach somewhere ?

Clothes maketh the man

Or so they say. I'm not sure what my clothes make me. My ex-wife would normally chime in about now with a pearl of wisdom. But anyway. Swedish fashion is pretty tough to pin down. I'm not sure if they are going for the "I'm going to grab all the items of clothing I can find on the floor, and stick them on me, in no particular order" look, or if that's just the way it ended up. It's all a bit of a mess, and doesn't seem to follow any pattern. Maybe it's different up here in the North. Maybe it starts out with good intentions but loses it's way somewhat when one looks at the winter weather. You know what it's like if you have bad heating in your house. You have a really nice duvet, which matches the sheets and pillow cases. But it's a bit cold, so you borrow the duvet from the bed in the spare room and throw that over. Still a bit nippy, so the rug from the lounge gets piled on top. Now you're really nice and comfy, but the bed looks like the sales bin at the local store. That pretty much describes fashion as I see it here. Swedes have this thing about being informal and comfortable. They don't really feel all that comfortable with hierachy. And that shows in their clothes. But it's hard to follow the rules. For me, at least. Everyone else seems to know exactly what to wear and when. Take, for example, my job. I work in a professional international consultancy firm. As I've also done in New Zealand. Dress code of the day was always semi formal. Dress shoes, shirt and pants. With a tie either worn or standing nearby at the ready. Probably a reflection of the good old Imperial England, where employment staus was ( and is) the measure of the man. Not so in Sweden. Checkered shirts, jeans and slippers are the standard office attaire. First time I've ever had to buy a pair of slippers to wear to work. No difference as you head up the office ladder. You can tell the boss, because he has a SLIGHTLY bigger office. But that's about it. So that was something new. Bit of a shock, but dressing down is easier to get used to than dressing up. Last month we were invited to attend the christening of the daughter of a friend of our's. At the local church. Being the avid churchgoers that we are, I had to look the place up on the map. Now, being the son of devoted Church of England parents, I knew exactly how this worked. So I dug out my best pants and tie, which hadn't seen light since my first day at work. And off we went. Big mistake. Standard church attaire it seems, follows office protocol. Jeans, open neck shirts, and casual footwear. At first I felt like a bit of a twat, but then I thought, "No, this is how I dress to show respect. So tough". Two weeks later we were invited to attend a birthday party for an adult friend. Same group of people. Despite my earlier stand against society, I decided to go with the flow. Nice pair of jeans, casual but trendy (for me) shirt, and good comfy shoes. Swedes do own suits and ties. Very nice ones too. Do you know when they wear those ? When they go to friends' birthday parties !!! I frickin give up. Next time I'm asked anywhere, if I'm asked anywhere, I'm wearing the duvets. All of them.

Skaffa ett jobb

Unless you've reached the pinacle of life that I strive to one day reach, and are a kept man, you're going to need to find a job in Sweden. This obstacle is typically the one that stops a lot of ex-pats in their tracks. It's a major hurdle, and it's importance cannot be overstated. So many, myself include, expect to waltz into Sweden and immediately secure the same level of employment that we left behind. Forget that. It's time to rewrite your employment life. The big part about securing employment is forward planning. This might mean delaying your relocation plans for a while. Get your qualifications in order. If you don't have any qualifications, get some. Don't rely on your employment history to make up for a lack of formal training. Unless you've got Swedish experience, your work history is second rate. Choose your qualifications wisely. Don't waste your time studying for an MBA from the University of South Eastern Tennessee. Choose something that will carry some weight outside of your homeland. Which involves some research first. Writing your CV can be a bit tricky. Lots of opinions around about whether you should write in English ( if that's your first language) or in Swedish. The English argument is that writing in Swedish is implying that you've got good Swedish skills, and you'll get found out when you front up for an interview. Fair enough. The Swedish argument is that no one is going to read an English CV and, if they do, they'll think that you know no Swedish. Which may not be true. Again, fair comments. Me, I went for somewhere in between. A fence sitter, am I. I wrote my CVs in Swedish. To show that I was making an effort to integrate. Now, admitidly, my Swedish CV was pretty good. Language wise. Due to my Swedish wife writing 90% of it. So a bit of a fib there. BUT, I made sure to write in my covering letter that, while I was writing in Swedish, I was still struggling with Swedish as a spoken language. So when I finally did make it to an interview, there were no surprises for anyone. I believe that CVs should be tailored to match the specific position. Highlighting what is relevant to that job application. That's what I think. Some will say that a CV is a CV is a CV. You can choose. One thing I have noticed about Swedish CVs is that they list EVERY single qualification they have, and EVERY item of work they have ever worked on. If they have a 50m backstroke certificate from primary school, in it goes. If they worked on a project that took a day and a half and cost 250kr - in it goes. The end result is a 10 page CV that contains 9 pages of "everything I have ever worked on in my entire life". In cronological order. Personally I think that's a crap approach. No one reads everything, at least I don't. So maybe some of the really important stuff gets missed. Me, I went for an English type CV, written in Swedish. Just the major stuff, and a bit less padding. You can choose what suits best. If you are going to write about specific jobs your have previously done, remember that the Swedish employer probably doesn't have a clue about place names, people, or customer names. So you have to make it mean something to everyone. Give the task some scale, like 1,000 square metres, 500 people, or 100,000 Swedish kronor. Remember, they don't know what you know. A "new Woolworths in Timaru" gains a bit more credibility when it becomes a "new 5,000 square metre supermarket in a city of 40,000 people". Think about your audience when writing. And don't forget to say what you personally did on that project. Obviously you didn't build the whole supermarket yourself. I always write a cover letter. A lot of people say it's bad form, I say it's not. My letter is important to me. It's where I present myself as a person, not just as a work history list. I say why I'm coming to Sweden, so they get to understand me a little. I summarise my employment and qualifications. Not too much, sort of a "fools guide to". The stuff you can't really include on a CV list. The letter is also a chance to address the questions that you know they will have about you. Language, future ambitions, level of risk. A chance to shut those questions down before they arise. Be up front and say if your Swedish is crap, but you wanted to try and write in Swedish. It shows honesty, but it also show a commitment. Finally, the tone of your application. Here's the conflict. Swedes in generally are not very good and presenting themselves in a strong or assertive manner. Which is why they often struggle to survive outside of Sweden. A typical English CV which proclaims your strengths and virtues, might be viewed as being somewhat arrogant by a Swedish employer. So you might want to tone your application down a little. Not too much though, you do still want to get the job. It's a bit of a tricky balancing act, that one. So there's the formalities. No guarantee it'll work. But I've never been shut down because of my formal application. That comes later.

TV, or not TV

I realise that it's been a while since I've written anything constructive, or helpful. Or anything nice, come to think of it. I'll have a crack at that now, but don't go holding out for high expectations. Today, my experience with Swedish television options. That's viewing options, not buying options. Buying a TV is frickin expensive in Sweden. Twice the price of the same model in NZ. And a 42 inch flat screen TV does NOT fit into the back of a Volvo V70. Word to the wise. Anyway, if you want to watch telly in Sweden, you have a few choices to make about who you buy the service from. There are about half a dozen suppliers, all essentially offering different combinations of the same 100 (ish) TV channels. Which makes them all pretty much the same. Some suppliers also offer internet and telephone services when buying a tv package. There are some savings to be made that way, but the other suppliers generally wise up to this and adjust their prices to match. So what are the options. Generally a supplier will offer 3 packages for sale, being Small, Medium and Large. The Small package will have about a dozen channels, and the Large package about 70. The channels included within each package are chosen by the supplier, not by the customer. But you can often buy additional individual extra channels if you like. So you could buy the Small package, and then also choose to buy, say, the BBC channel. As an extra. The 3 packages are offered by each supplier, but the make up of the channels within each package can vary a little between suppliers. So that could be the defining factor that determines who you choose. If you take a Large package, you get all the Tv shows, news, kids, music, and documentary channels that are on offer. About 70 channels. Sitting outside these packages, for some reason, are the dedicated sports and movies channels. The big suppliers of these are "Canal" and "Viasat". It's those channels that show live football, and the latest movies. Without advertisement breaks. If you want either of these groups, you have to buy them as a separate package from your programme supplier. All suppliers will offer these. If you are an absolute TV nut, and you sign up for the Large package, plus the "Canal" package, plus the "Viasat" package, you have somewhere around 100 to 110 channels. If you're that way inclined. We're not done quite yet, because Canal also has a number of package options to choose from. You can buy the Movies package, or the Sports package. Or the lot, if you can't be bothered deciding. Overly complicated ? Yup. What did you expect ? So, where to start. Well, if you are renting an apartment, or you buy a apartment, it's quite likely that a basic (Small) television rental package is included in your monthly building cost. And you'll pay for that whether you use it or not. So it might make sense to stick with that supplier if you want to buy more channels. Cabling can be another determining factor. Some suppliers, such as Com Hem, have their own cable system entering the building. Which stops at a normal TV aerial wall socket. Telia, on the other hand, uses their telephone cables to transmit television. Which requires that you purchase a modem to plug into the main telephone outlet in your house. Note, it must be to the main telephone outlet in the house. It won't work if plugged in to any of the other phone outlets. You will then have to connect to your TV with the use of a modem cord. Or, as we did, through the use of a wireless transmitter. Which works well, I have to say. When I say connect to the TV, I mean the cable TV decoder box. Which sits near to your TV. Some TVs have an inbuilt cable TV decoder box. I haven't had personal experience with these but I've heard stories of people having problems trying to record television programmes using this system. So check that out. So there you have the start guide to Swedish Tv. Good to note that English programmes are generally shown in English. With Swedish subtitles to help your language training. Unlike many other European countries which choose to voice over dub everything. Oh, and ( at least, I've heard ) there's good porn on the TV. So money saved at the video shop there. You heard it here first.