Earth Cellars (for Andrea)

Since my arrival in Sweden I have stumbled over some interesting stuff.

One intrigue of mine are what I think of as earth cellars... According to a quick www research they are also called root cellars. Here's the one we have in Paradise:

Sadly it's not in use.

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However, the next two (which I found on yesterday's walk) are... how do I know? There were tracks to each of their doors (and no, they weren't either B or mine).

Aren't they lovely?

And they can be found EVERYWHERE.

I have even entered one before... and this was in northern Stockholm. And it was in use.

Yup, Swedes do sweet stuff such as putting their veggies and fruit and cans and other perishables into earthy lil' wonders.

I kinda wanna live in one for a while.

Talk about being grounded... but no windows :(.



I may just opt for a stuga :).

Oh happy day... oh happy da-ayyy!

As I promised myself (and you) yesterday, I went telemark skiing today. And, believe it or not - the weather was with me. Bluebird for "opening day"... anyone who knows about the bliss of having sticks on ones feet knows that that's the dream, right there.

Yes, I did feel a teeny bit silly as I fastened my skis amongst the neighbors getting their mail or walking their dogs or whatever else they did. I decided to just call out "hej" and smile. It worked. (As in, nobody stopped me from skiing). And B, B was jumping around me like he had been stung by a bee... in excitement that is. He knows that as soon as I tie those sticks to my feet, I become fast. And fast me, he likes. Little did he know about me skiing on mostly flat land... but hey, he lives truly in the moment and the excitement at the time was worth it.

I, for my part, was also very excited when I took the following self-portrait:


Can you smell my hunger for making it a long loop? The desire to chase Beefy on sticks through the sticks and tackle everything that will come my way (like, for example, the rocks that are barely covered, the tight corners in thorny brush, the crossing of fences - and frozen (?) water ways). Yup, I had fun - even when the going became tough. But my feet hurt. Forgot about that minor detail. Hope I get used to the boots once again quickly.

My already slow speed was slowed down even more by some really sweet photo ops. I cannot help it, the sun is at a low angle and just gets the best out of B and the lovely landscape. He endured the stops (mostly) with grace. And otherwise with a couple of heart-shaped treats...

OK, OK, there were a few spots where I actually got to go up... and down :) --- that stuff is the greatest. Kinda makes me wanna go somewhere where there are mountains. Not that this is the first time that thought crossed my mind. Get this... I started skiing when I was 3... barely. And yes, it was more so: I was started skiing when I was 3... barely. I now am 32 years old - meaning I will be a snow _______ (insert funny term) for 30 (!!!!) years by the time this winter is over. Holy cow! Never thought of it that way. Good thing there is blogging. My point was, though, that this may become my 2nd winter ever (!) without a season pass. Think that one through for a minute if you may...

Wait, that was not a minute! ;)

Anyways... Beefy and I enjoyed ourselves mostly (minus my aching feet) and are eager to go again. Tomorrow we will actually tackle some snow-shoeing with friends. We are planning on visiting my potential future work place (the tiniest ski hill on the planet) - mostly so I can get a feel for the place to then really rock the interview on Tuesday... and then we're gonna play in the forest at a lake nearby. Should be fun. Plus it's gonna stay serious minus degrees here for a bit. That's how the ice grows. Which is really important for people here. But more about that whenever N has dragged me out to do some of that favorite sport of hers. It includes the danger of breaking through the ice into the lake or sea below in one's winter clothes... Ay!

Before I end my rambling I would like to let you know that I am officially NO BEGINNER at the Swedish language anymore!! How cool is that. Even though I call some of my activities Swedish learning I don't feel as if I have really done that much official Swedish studying. Anyways, I just took a test with Folksuniversitetet (where I may or may not sign up for a course at some point) and ended up in the category A2. Below me (literally speaking) are nybörjare and A1s... above me are B1s and C1s and maybe some others. Cool, isn't it?

Maybe my not so scientific learning (e.g. changing FaceBook language to svenska, watching Dagbok från en Motorcykel in Spanish with Swedish subtitles - hey, that takes some serious skill!!) is actually paying off. Well, one can always hope for the best.

How to... Learn Svenska in Paradise.

Yup, this post features my first video. Yay! Hope it will make it into your warm homes... It features the B, I, and a dictionary on our way to the farmer for Swedish class. Enjoy!

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After sticking his head in the snow for what seemed to be hours, Beefy brought me a mouse. It was only later that I understood the significance of his sweet gesture (I now believe he wanted to bring m-icicles to the kitties at the farmers).

Here I present to you my friend Kent. Yup, finally asked him his name :)

We agreed to have coffee more often in the future. He's a fascinating fellow who has worked as a seaman for ten years traveling all over the world. Kent views his cats as his kids (which warms my heart) and turns out to be a wonderful neighbor to have. He showed me his 16 cows later... and said I could go into the stables whenever I wanted (if I understood that correctly ;)...). When I spontaneously hugged him good bye I found out that he's a good hugger, too.
Who said all Swedes were emotional icicles? Not true.

On our way home Beef and I enjoyed some thorough winter blasts. That's when I came up with a glorious idea: Tomorrows "walk" will be the first of many on Telemark skis... until now they have been waiting patiently in my "office-n-gear-shed". I am planning to lay the tracks of a trainings loop here in paradise. Who says I cannot have fun being unemployed as long as it lasts? And who needs hills or even mountains?? (actually, I do --- don't tell the Swedes)

Favoring the Farmer.

My favorite farmer and I finally talked for a long time today. He lives on the tip of the peninsula Beef and I live on. Naturally some of our hikes lead us his way. Sounds like that may happen even more often in the future.

I have had this fantasy about him being my Swedish teacher for a while. He seems like an ideal candidate: Older (hence full of stories), Swedish-only speaking, a bit lonely (and with that possibly interested in spending some time with a Swiss straggler?), and into nature (whether by choice or not may have to be determined at a later time). Today I made a major step in my mission of hiring him (I mean, befriending him).

While B and I's interactions with him prior were minimal (i.e. I asked if it was OK for us to trespass, said "hej" on another occasion, and waved on another), today's was quite informative. Naturally it was all in Swedish (which makes the author of this post very happy and a bit giddy).

This is what he wanted to know:

- Are you unemployed? (ahem... yup, obviously I added a bit of my story and asked if he had work for me - he said that he has lots of work but not much money to pay.. [I think..., my Swedish got a bit hazy right there])
- What was your previous job? (... that's were I explained to him wilderness therapy and talked about my crazy lifestyle)
- Did your dog run away? (no, he's right up there) What kind of dog is that? (Boarder Collie / Aussie mix) Is it a male? (yup)

Stuff that I learned about him included:

- He owns the land, the stables, and all the houses (there are some too-cute-to-be-true summer homes on his property that he rents out in the summer)
- He lives a bit lonely in one of the houses with two cats (one is 18 and one some other age I didn't understand)
- He works as a farmer and as a fisherman and as a vacation rental contact person
- He has traveled extensively when he was young (all continents minus Australia)
- He was about to go read his newspaper
- He wanted for me to come back and have coffee with him sometimes..... wait, did you hear this: HE WANTED FOR ME TO COME BACK AND HAVE COFFEE WITH HIM SOMETIMES!! does that mean I just hired my Swedish teacher?
- He also said that my Swedish wasn't so bad and that he liked B.

I think my imaginary friend just moved into the realm of reality.

I wonder what his name is....

Your Turn to Learn Svenska!

Look at this cool Swedish learning opportunity!

Anyone wanna be courageous and guess what these facial expressions mean in the comment section? It's your opportunity to be radical today!! Happy guessing/knowing!

(Good thing I invested in mjölk today!)

"PMS: This is You, Right?!!"

Man...

It started swell. Strictly Organic Coffee, imported from Bend Oregon by the author of this post herself. Comfy morning at home reading up on my favorite blog (vet on the edge), followed by a long loop with Buford. Which included a horse - Buford encounter. I utilized the friendly horse's curiosity to train my lil' one a bit... had him calm down, sit, and eventually lay down a meter or so away from the horse (he's been a bit too rascally around a couple other horses a couple days ago - not on my shift!). Standing between the two beautiful animals in silence, while touching both of them was my favorite moment of today. Then a shower, lunch. Finally I reluctantly got ready for yet another trip to Norrköping.

It's not like I don't like going to the city. Sometimes as I stroll about the old gatans and vägen I feel alive and excited to become part of a greater community. Those moments are rather fleeting though. Today I didn't quite get around to that feeling... Instead, I found myself fighting tears back, and most of the time unsuccessfully so. Yep, I walked around Norrköping crying, and at my strong moments, at the verge of tears. Where they came from, I am not sure. My hope: See title. The triggers: As follows...

It started back in Söderköping. Departing from Buford I wondered if it was a good idea to leave him with the second half of a chew-toy-treat. I am in this place where I assume that the-worst-possible-thing-is-going-to-happen-at-all-times and him choking to death while I was gone was my # 1 fear. He's all I got. I left him with the treat. His initial excitement melted into one of those looks that says something like "maa-am, you... you... you're not going to do thaaa-at to me, right?!" Yup, it killed me. I closed the door behind me, sighed, walked to the gate, only to turn around and see his longing eyes meeting mine out of the kitchen window. Didn't Rob teach me not to look back?

So far, so good. I actually had more money on my bus card than I thought. Yay. Once in the city, I headed straight to the Back Up office. They had called me to invite me in to pick up the money I had earned by helping out during the wilderness weekend. I was warned that it was "mostly change". On my way to the office I had these evil little voices in my head. They keep making me think about all the reasons why this whole idea of being here in Sweden is bull. Once more I jumped onto the internal roller coaster as I navigated from the bus station to the office. By the time I was near my destination, tears were STREAMING DOWN MY FACE! Great. Didn't I plan to have the difficult meeting with these people tomorrow?? I did my best to wipe away my salty tears and keep new ones from developing. Breathe, Marlies, breathe... I found the door open. Went inside. Found a couple of the youth. None of the folks who had told me explicitly to come at this hour to pick up my change. Breathe...! I asked one of the youth... "nej, M är inte här..." - OK, smile...! I guess. Hmpf. Maybe W is in the kitchen? Aahhhh, yes, on the phone. Alright, maybe this thing will work out. I wait. Finally he hangs up. Hugs me. Invites me into the office. Alongside with one of the youth. Then offers me a seat. I shrug and ask about the money... trying to fanagel a Swedish sentence that could mean that I gotta go to Swedish training at the library. He gets it. I feel odd. And am greeted by a HEAVY bag of coins. Really?! I can barely squeeze it into my little bag. Makes a lot of sound. Awkward..... "hej, -klimp/klamp- jag heter Marlies kllirrr/klabam- och du?" Maybe I better go to the bank with this treasure before I head to the library to meet my future friends... isn't there a Swedbank on my way on Drottningsgatan?

Once at the bank I pull a number (they do that everywhere here). A short while later I start yet another conversation with "do you speak English?" and a simultaneous hopefully forgiving smile. Yes, of course. "Can I deposit large amounts of change on my account here?", I ask hopefully. I am told that I could, just around the corner is a machine. Sweet, maybe it isn't so bad to be paid like a street singer. I find the machine and on it a sign saying that it was out of order. I barge back into the line to let the lady know (I am not going to pull a new number for such a joke, right?). She says I need to tell L, on the opposite side of the hall. I sigh, approach L, and wait. Nothing. I say "L? - I was told to check in with you about the cash machine..." - "Yeah...?" - "Well, it seems to be out of order... how can I get my money onto my account?" - "Hmmm, that won't be possible until the machine is fixed... however, you can go to ICA (a local supermarket), they have a machine there... but it costs commission." - Really? So you are saying that I am already spending the money I just made?? The money that is meant to pay my rent because my f-in boss in the US of A is incapable of sending me the money that I earned with my sweat and my blood 4 weeks ago like we agreed upon???? - I left the bank and felt another round of tears dwelling up. Hey, don't judge too harshly: See title.

Walking up the remaining few blocks of Drottninggatan I felt like I deserved an immediate escape of town. It had been enough. I needed to go check on my choked-to-death dog after all, didn't I? Who needs to learn Swedish anyways? Couldn't I just go home, wipe up the blood and learn Swedish via podcast? Tempting.

But I pushed through. Secured my coins in my bag, took a deep breath and prepared myself mentally for the likely upcoming introductory sentences... jag heter Marlies... jag är från Schweiz.... As I walked up to the library I could already see an internationally-looking group of folks sitting at one of the tables with the couches. They smiled encouragingly when I approached. I sat down, carefully stashing my bag with my coin treasure near my feet. The man from Iraq to my left asked me repeatedly if I was catholic... ahem... really? He didn't stop. The lady from Asia wanted my chat address... chat? How about Google? For some reason or another, don't ask me, I actually gave her my Gmail address... then the interaction subsided and for the coming 115 minutes the lady who was supposed to facilitate the gathering spoke. Nonstop. And handed out reflex-thingies (safety device to be seen in the dark... thanks for reminding me that winter is going to kick my butt). Talked about her mother having had an accident. Which is why she decided to change the world by handing out reflex-es. And talking people into the ground. And having heaping piles of reflex-es in front of her. Yes, I got really tired of listening to this lady talk. The best thing I learned in those long minutes was that she is not always the facilitator of språkcafe. Thank goodness.... I may scrape my remaining courage off the ground, nurture it a bit and come back to try again.

I almost missed my bus. Thanks to running full-speed that didn't happen... On the way home I decided to try and see if Söderköpings Swedbank was going to accept my coins. I may not have mentioned this but... I have to pay rent tomorrow. When is this going to get easier?

On my way to the bank I decided to call my landlord. After all she had wanted to call me today to let me know if I could get the key to my new home early... While I am rather content staying at the house till the end of the month I wanted to make sure that I could move in on Sunday (the first) as I had already found people who were willing to let me use their car on Sunday. Monday or Tuesday were not an option. The following conversation went all over the place... it included stuff from her like "if the current renter gets done by Sunday... you can move in on Monday"... and from my end "I need to move in on Sunday as that's the only day I have a car and that's when I start paying rent anyways".... argh! What happened to things just working out? She said she will call me tomorrow morning. That better be good news.

In the bank I found a functioning coin machine. While I was fiddling with my stuff, my phone rang... it was my friend N. I said, "hello, N", with a somewhat muffled voice (being at the bank). "Hey Marlies, how are you?"... "ahem... actually, not so hot" (tears shooting up again). "Wanna watch a movie tonight?" - "I don't know... let me get outside this place... sobb". - "Marlies, I am coming over to your place, now..." - "I need fifteen minutes to get there. Thanks." - "OK. See you there". Aahhh.

N waited for me in front of the house when I made it there. I gave her a hug, unlocked the door and greeted (an-alive-and-well) B. We talked in the entry way... sitting on the cold floor caressing B... didn't even bother to turn on the light. I felt cared for, and understood. And warm.

An hour later we transitioned over to her house, had dinner with her hubby and later watched a movie, each of us snuggeld into a sleeping bag on comfy couches in front of their home movie theater. Beef at first settled in on my lap, and half-way through the movie moved over to the hubby. He curled himself up in a ball and snoozed happily through even the most intense parts of Redemption Road.

Now I am home. It's almost 1am, I am typing away, feeling resolved. Encouraged. Hopeful. Wanting for tomorrow to be more adventurous again. We'll see. It's time for bed. Good night!

Hermit. Vandra. Plan B.

Beef gets towel-dried twice a day. That's another way of saying that it rains all the time. He seems to enjoy it (the towel-drying that is... he is clearly not enjoying the rain - this morning when I opened the door to let him "go potty" he just looked at me and turned around). I am fascinated by how much sand and dirt he carries home after each walk - good thing he does not roll around much... I think I would have to ban him from the house. The white towel turns brown after just one use!!

So, I could write this whole post about B.... but... I wont. However, I will say that I am feeling incredibly blessed to have the little rascal here with me. He's a lifesaver. Truly.

This is what I think about recently:

Becoming a Hermit - I find myself to long for some alone time. Meaning I am getting excited to move out to the countryside. I think this is partially a reaction to not feeling all that welcome here in Sweden. People on the street hardly respond to my "hej"s and even fellow dogowners seem to worry about crossing paths with me and B. Maybe I am feeling rejected and therefore pull back?! Either way, I am planning on counteracting this desire by setting up a few social experiences over the coming days and weeks (see below). Seems healthier for now.

Språkcafe - Träna svenska i vårt språkcafe! Torsdagar 15-17 - Start 17 september. Sista 3 december. I found this ad in the Norrköping bibliotek and it makes me happy. It has been difficult for me so far to find places to practice speaking svenska. Will be socially courageous next Thursday and mingle. Until then I will continue learning with my friends Komvux (free online course) and Podcast. Wouldn't mind replacing them... even though we have gotten closer recently.

Job, language, et al needed for Tilstånd - I am still powerthinking (meaning thinking about it non-stop) about my situation here. The meeting I mentioned in my last post is still triggering me. I wish I could let go of some of this stuff sooner than later. Here is what I have come up with: I will ask them to hire me and the woman that was chosen to be the clinical director beginning December. I will let them know that if they are unwilling/unable to do so that I am seriously questioning their intention to start the program in late January. Additionally, I will ask them to support me in my Swedish-learning attempts. When we first started to talk about me coming to Sweden I was told that there were free Swedish classes here that I could enrol in as soon as I arrived. Reality is that I cannot even apply for those classes unless I have tilstånd, which I can only get when I have a job... or a ton of money... or am a student (see below). The other part of reality is that I am only half the person I can be in my future job if I do not speak the local language. So, objectively seen I think they should help me a) get into classes without tilstånd or b) help me, e.g. finance, Swedish classes for me. I wonder what they will say - mostly because I think that if they make empty promises once again that I'll have to seriously make up a Plan B. Kinda scary, kinda exciting!

Vandra på Sörmlandsleden - So, should we actually start our program we may have a non-ideal use area to start with. Non-ideal because it is somewhat small and close to people. In my mind possible though because the Sörmlandsleden goes past it. I am fascinated with the Sörmlandsleden. It's kinda like the Pacific Coast Trail of Southern Sweden. I believe that it would behoove me to go check the trail out before we bring clients there. Accordingly, I am studying maps and am planning to bring up the idea to go do a trip on the trail to test it this coming month. It happens to go by my future home. There are shelters along it. I call that sweet! Wanna come?

Plan B - Even though I am not there yet (and I d'rather just have a job with FT), I am future tripping a little. I do not think that I wanna do the Solo business until I know Sweden better. My gut is simply not interested in it right now. And I listen to my gut. My gut wants to go up north. Far north. Find a job that makes B and I happy. Live in a house with a wood stove. Get a masters degree (one of my few friends here suggested that yesterday... not the MS, but studying. Fact is that I could stay here easier if I studied. And studying is free. Plus if I studied I would be forced to learn Swedish well at an academic level. And I may make connections and actually tie myself enough into the Swedish landscape to feel comfortable starting something of my own). Whoops. Sounds not bad... gut: check? - Check. We shall see.

Buford - I know, I said I wasn't going to write a whole entry about him. And I am not (writing a whole entry about him). But I am thinking about him. A lot. I haven't mentioned it on here but early on when we arrived here B was a little off. More scared than he usually is. A nervous butt. That can be dangerous for a dog. He actually growl-snarled at one of the girls that pet him when we met the group last weekend. In response I am spending a lot of time working with him. And surveying the scene. So I can be aware of his fears. And gently nudge him through tricky spots. So he will be more confident again. And more safe. For these reasons it is very important to me that the move to our new place will be positive for him. While he always seemed fine with our frequent moves I think that it will be good for him to feel stable somewhere. I think he's doing better already - yesterday we went for a walk with a friend and were then invited over to dinner (Beef got food too). The couple was very sweet with him and acted very dog-friendly. And, of course, he was the B I love. It feels good to talk with d0g-people about him. They understand. We will keep working on it. And keep you updated.

Boxes - I can barely wait to get my boxes. The boxes I packed in June. And brought to a warehouse in Portland Oregon. Whose trip across the ocean I supervised closely via the tracking method the shipping company gave me. And finally picked up the day before I returned to the US. Those boxes are now in Patrick's shed. Waiting for my moving day. November 1. That's when I will move them to my new home and unpack them. It will be a party. A private one. Only B is invited.


Puhhh...! That's one part of the zoo that is going on in my head. Good thing I don't have a job - I wouldn't have time to focus on it, huh? I think I'll end here.... for now. And hope to experience a blue-skied day sometimes soon. Like, when I took that photo down there about ten days ago.

Hope I am not the only one who has enough time on her hands to take three hours a day to walk a dog and ponder...