Becoming Swedish

Are you a Swedish citizen yet?

It's a question I get asked a lot. And because I spend way to much time thinking about these things, the answer is 'No, I'm not'.

Depending on when you ask me and my mood, the answer varies.

1) I travel too much. I don't want to surrender my passport for an unknown amount of time and thus be landlocked.

2) Migrationsverket has thus far lost my paperwork every single time I have sent them something. I do not want them to lose my passport too.

3) I just don't feel Swedish yet, I'd feel like a fake.

The truth is probably a combination of all three. Words cannot describe my dislike for Migrationsverket - and if you have never had to deal with them, count yourself as lucky. 

But this whole being Swedish thing, it is something that I struggle with. I mean, why would I want to be a Swedish citizen if I didn't want to be a Swede. And why wouldn't I want to be a Swede, if I like them so friggin much? (which I do).

One of the things about the Sweden Democrats (a Swedish political party considered to be racist) that infuriates me is also something I think that they are sadly correct about in the state of today's Swedish society. The Sweden Democrats describe a Swede as 'anyone who considers themselves to be Swedish and who would be considered by others to be Swedish.' And there in lies the rub. Who is considered to be Swedish by others and why? Is that particular club too exclusive? Would they have me? Do they want someone who speaks Swedish? Someone who is white? Someone who is blonde?

I know. I don't take too much to heart what SD have to say about much of anything. But this feeling I get from so many Swedes around me. The sentences that begin with 'You know that guy from work, he's Swedish, but not Swedish Swedish, I mean he was born here, but his parents are African, I think.' (You may think that sounds strange, but I have heard that or something similar from co-workers, clients, family members etc.) I realize that this is a Swedish dance for saying 'You know that black guy who works with us?' but it makes me feel like I will never be 'Swedish' enough.

Anyways, now that I am raising a little Swede, who will always be viewed as a 'true Swede' thanks to his blue eyes and blonde hair, it makes me wonder - do I belong to this club now? Is it time to sign up? I don't really mind the outsider status, but I don't think becoming a Swede officially will change that status.

Achhh, I guess I just think about it way too much. I would hate to not be able to vote in the next big election. I think that might be the deciding factor.

Yes, You Can Eat That - Mushroom Hunting in Sweden

“Some of my friends are going mushroom hunting this weekend, want to come?” The Swede innocently asked me probably too many years ago than I am willing to admit.

“I don't want to die.” Or something equally dramatic was probaby my answer.

I spent my childhood going on the occasional woodland romp or park excursion, but mostly I did New Jersey Girl Scouts, which means arts and crafts, baking and the occasional tenting in our fearful leader's backyard. (I hated it and quit early once I realized I would never sell enough cookies to win that goddamn rainbow hangy thing).

One rule was universal. Every Mom in the neighborhood and every scout leader repeated it. Do NOT eat ANYTHING you find growing outside. This PARTICULARLY means mushrooms. Mushrooms will KILL you. But berries, too. While they might not always KILL you they will make you very very very sick.

Cut to Sweden. I was out orienteering with my 7 year old niece. (She was guiding me through the woods). She bends down and goes 'Here have a blueberry!' and my first instinct is 'NOOOOO'. But I am learning, really. I tried it. And ate quite a few. They were good. I hope I won't be the first case of Heartworm in Sweden.

But back to the mushrooms.

First The Swede tells me, don't worry, we will only be picking chanterelles, they are easy to spot. Promise. And they are because they are very distinctive looking. But then he also notices these other mushrooms. The ones they call 'fake chanterelles,' or Trattchanterelles. I am worried about the name. Really? Fakes? That sounds poisonous. I think I will stick with the real deal.

We wandered the woods for awhile. Staring at the ground. Finding the occasional small gathering. And then, something magical happened. Once you see the mushrooms? You really see the mushrooms. They are everywhere. And OF COURSE you can see which is which. It's as obvious as telling the difference between two people sitting on a bus. They are both people, but they are not the same.

And so when we got all of our mushrooms home, I ate them, fake ones and all. I ate them despite the fact that I really don't like mushrooms (mostly because I feel they have the consistency of chewing on your own tongue).

Now we go out regularly to pick mushrooms. Now we have trained our dog to hunt chanterelles. Now I can tell a blueberry from a fake blueberry. I can spot a raspberry and vinberries. I know. To your average Swede that's a 'So what.' But for a Jersey girl? It feels like a big step!

It's August, and Everything Is Rotten in the State of Sweden or Swedish Old Wives Tales

I don't know if this is just my Swedish family or it is a thing. I did a preliminary google on it, but came up short. This is often due to my craptastic Swedish spelling.

But today is the first day of August - or what my Swede often refers to as 'Rotten Month.' 'Don't leave that out, it's Rotten Month,' he will proclaim as soon as I finish serving dinner. And the hot food he usually refuses to put in the fridge for risk of ruining everything else in the fridge is thrown in immediately.

I get the logic behind Rotten Month if it is an old wives' tale. August is frequently one of the warmest months and thus more food goes bad. But see, The Swede, who tends to be quite scientific and sensible, repeats this rotten mantra even when temperatures dip well into the teens in Celsius, or the 60s in Fahrenheit (as often occurs in Sweden). I point out that it was actually warmer in July and we were, while not careless, were not August careful with our food and no stomach bugs were caught.

The temperature, says the Swede, is irrelevant. It is August - it is Rotten Month - we must be prepared. So today is the first day of Rotten Month. The Swede missed dinner, but I dutifully refrigerated it for him. I don't mind doing so on days like today when it is indeed hot and humid.

So is this just my silly Swede? Is this a thing? Is there a good story behind it?

A Midsummer Survival Guide

My favorite Swedish holiday is fast approaching – Midsummer! And like any good Swedish holiday, the lovely Swedish government has officially removed any meaning from the actual day and moved it to the closest convenient weekend. Which means that even if Solstice is ALWAYS June 21^st Midsummer is always the following Friday. Longest night of the year be damned! We shall eat herring and drink schnapps when properly appointed by the state. But really, that is the only thing that annoys me about Swedish midsummer. The rest is great. Really great.

Here are a few things to think about before your first midsummer party.

1. Swedes will try to tell you that you should down a shot of alcohol (schnapps) after every drinking song. 'No Problemo,' you might say. Let me tell you, there will be a LOT of drinking songs. And most Swedes do not down a full shot after each one. You will be under the table before the main course is served. Because alongside the shots you will also be drinking beer and wine. I usually manage one shot per 3 drinking songs, by taking a small sip after each one. This year, since I've got the toddler in tow, there will be no shots. But I will enjoy the show.
   
   
2. Stay away from anything remotely 'home-brewed.' Yes, thanks to Systembolaget, well-to-do Swedes still make and on occasionly drink moonshine. It's crazy. One former collegue distilled vodka on her balcony. My Father-in-Law makes some weird form of absinthe. JUST SAY NO, kids. There are the scary stories that it will blind you, but really, it just makes you feel gross. Pay the $40 and buy some crappy schnapps like Gammal Dansk to simulate moonshine. You don't want a moonshine hangover, trust me.

3. Pitch your tent before you drink. Remember how I wrote about how people don't drink and drive? Be prepared to camp if you are staying out in the country. And it is a good idea to get that tent up early. Yes, midnight sun and all, but after all those shots, that easy-to-put-together tent ain't so easy.

4. If there is a maypole – dance, even if you are as bad a dancer as I am. There may or may not be a maypole. It doesn't really make or break the experience, but it can be fun. If there is a maypole and dancing, that song they are singing is about frogs. How they don't have ears or tails. And Swedish frogs say 'Cuakaka' instead of 'Ribbit.' Join in and shake your groove thing. It's fun and your friends and family can torment you with the photos for years to come (not speaking from personal experience here or anything).
   
   
   Ignore all of the other rules I may have posted on this blog before – well, except for the drinking and driving one, because it's midsummer and there is lots of liqour involved. Say goodbye to: all of those Swedish inhabitions, keeping quiet, not barfing in the flower bushes, 'I don't speak English', and oh yeah, get ready to dance to ABBA.

Drinking and Not Driving in Sweden

I have mixed feelings about the attitude toward alcohol in Sweden. I find it a bit difficult to stomach, in some ways. I am the type of person who likes a glass of wine with dinner, maybe two on a Friday or Saturday night. But I really am not a fan of getting drunk, and avoid it unless it is either a crayfish party or midsummers. This drinking style, in my experience, is a bit in contrast to typical Swedish drinking.

That said, one of the things that I respect most about the Swedes I have had the pleasure of partying with, is their attitude towards drunk driving. You just don't do it. There is no 'It's OK to drive after a beer, or a glass of wine.' like we learned in Driver's Ed. There is no mathematically calculating your weight and the amount of alcohol in a beverage.

You just don't get behind the wheel if you've had a drink.

The Swedish legal limit is quite low, and this is probably a main motivator in this issue. It is .02, compared to .08 in the US.

But drunk driving has a strange amount of social acceptance in the US. Maybe it's because we are so dependent on our cars, but I know several people who have lost their liscences due to drunk driving, who continue to drive after a few cold ones. Driving under the influence in the US is something many people think you just have to do if you live in a suburb.

Driving under the influence in Sweden remains pretty taboo. In Sweden most people take the bus, or the train, or a cab. Sometimes a designated driver will step up. Sometimes, although I question the sanity of this at times, people bike home instead. Other times people sleep over.

Another thing I noticed, after a party this weekend, was that some of the big drinkers refused to drive the next day. This makes perfect sense. I get it. But I can tell you, as someone who strongly opposes drunk driving, I never even thought about not driving the next day, and it was never discussed in Driver's Ed.

I will admit, that I drove the next day, to pick up Diner Breakfast, when I probably should have been off the road. Thankfully no one was hurt. I would never do that today.

So even if I bitch and moan occasionally about Swedish alcohol culture, Systembolaget, stor stark and other related things, I do think Swedes get the important part of it right, the part that saves a lot of lives.

Celebrating Swedish National Day Like A True Swede

Ok, I give up. In the past I've made a bit to-do about June 6th. I've thrown big barbeques, hoisted flags, attended ceremonies at various places, tried to get my colleagues and clients involved in my Swedish national day celebration, or flag day, or whatever you want to call June 6th in Sweden.

But this year? I decided to go Swedish and treat June 6th like any other random red day ( because what do you really do to celebrate 'the day after pentecost' - which used to be a holiday day in Sweden until it was replaced by June 6).

Today we did nice Swedish things, took a hike, enjoyed 'the nature' and ate ice cream. But more we did not.

I am not quite sure why there is no big 'horray for Sweden day.' Maybe because June 6 was a day in the 1500s that Sweden became independent and, well, that was long enough ago for people to take their independence for granted. The 6th doesn't mark a major historical milestone like July 4th, Bastille day, Norweigian national day, etc. It's just a random day.

Also national pride in Sweden is a strange beast. Sure, Swedes are proud of their country. Rightly so. But many seem to confuse the concepts of nationalism and patriotism and find flag waving just plain embarrassing if not racist.

Strangely enough it is mostly we immigrants, in my experience, that seem to want to get out and celebrate Sweden. Maybe it's because we have such patriotic traditions in our own home countries. Maybe it's because we want to show our gratitude to our new home.

Only recently has more emphasis been placed on the celebration of June 6th in Sweden and I hope that means that we are still building and establishing these new traditions.

But maybe it is a good thing just to enjoy a day off, I never did much more than BBQ on July 4th.

PS I am still posting from my phone, so please bear with my editing issues, I hope to have it resolved soon. If anyone knows of a good app for posting with blogger from an iPhone please let me know!

Swenglish lesson# 1: Lagom

Swedes will be sure to tell you about this wonderful word 'Lagom' as you begin to learn Swedish. Lagom, they claim, is untranslatable. It is the essence of Swedish. No word in English comes close to grasp the beauty that is Lagom.

OK. So for starters – what is Lagom? To be honest this can be difficult to pin down. My Swedish better half and I argue about it now and then. Lagom to me means 'a middle amount which is not too much or not too little'. Think Goldilocks and the three bears – Lagom is like baby bear.

If the American dream is 'you too can have it all' the Swedish dream is 'you too can be Lagom.'

Thus, I occasionally will exclaim 'goddamn I hate lagom – lets bust it up and go for the gold' In which case my husband rolls his eyes because a) I don't usually talk like that and b) he insists my lagom is just bigger, thus I cannot escape Lagom. So according to my hubby, Pappa bear's bed is lagom for Pappa bear and Mamma bear's bed is Lagom for Mamma bear.

Total Crap I say. Because here is one of the Lagom myths they spread around Sweden. I think it backs up my argument. But maybe the Swedes are on to something. Maybe Lagom is something special to Swedish. I have to say, I think English can get by without it.

The story of Lagom.

Lagom is an old viking tradition. Back in the day the vikings would fill up one giant beer glass and set it on the table. Each strong viking male would take a swig of the beer and pass it on to his compadre. The idea was that there should be enough beer to last an entire round of the table. Each viking should have his lagom share. If the beer ran out, one of the Vikings had drunk too much. If there was beer left over, one of the vikings had not drunk enough. But, since Vikings are the archetypical Swedes, more often than not, they drank just lagom.

But then they sailed to America. And they each got their own beer mugs.