In Which I Experience Swedish Patriotism

June 6th is Sweden's National Holiday. I was looking forward to being in Stockholm, the capital city, to experience some Swedish patriotism. It was an interesting cultural lesson.

First, some background: Sweden has been "neutral" in every war for the last 500 years or so, and has, like England, been more of a conquerer that has lost most of her colonies rather than a colony like America that has won independence. So Nationaldagen is not a celebration of independence. In fact, it's a little unclear exactly what is being celebrated. It is the day that a king was crowned in 1523. It is also the day that Swedes reformed their government in the late 1800's. The explanation that made the most sense to me was that so many immigrants were surprised to find that there was no day to celebrate the land which they had made their home that the Swedes finally started to feel sheepish and declared one.

And that didn't happen until... 1983!!! Yes, you read that right. But in 1983 it was decided that it would be harmful to the economy if Swedes took another day off work, so it wasn't declared a national holiday until... 2005. Wow.

Here we are in front of Stadshuset

But I found all this out afterwards. So when I took my five kids off to Stockholm to see the festivities. I made sure we all had flags to wave. Guess how you can tell the tourists on June 6th in Stockholm? They're the ones waving flags.

It's actually sad. Because many Swedes like their flag and feel some sense of national pride when they see it. But the unfortunate circumstance is that many Neo-Nazi groups here in this country have made the Swedish flag their symbol. So it has almost become a declaration of racism to fly the Swedish flag. There was one flag flying above the king's castle, and a few flagpoles outside Stadshuset, the parlimentary building. Otherwise it was just us and the other tourists.

We missed the train to Stockholm, but we got on another train going the right direction. I had to buy new tickets, and we had to make a connection, but we made it to Stockholm Centralen, the central station.

Eating at a sidewalk cafe in Gamla Stan

Stockhom is a beautiful city. It is built on islands connected by bridges, so there is water everywhere. People often refer to it as the Venice of the north. Many of the streets are still cobblestoned.

We had a little walk while I got reoriented, but we found our way across to Gamla Stan, or Old Town. Here is where many of the old buildings and the castle are located. After we had some lunch we walked to the castle, which was open to the public for the holiday.

The Swedish military put on a special Nationaldag show in the courtyard outside the castle which we watched. I was impressed. They did a 21-gun salute and marched around in circles in the European way, swinging their hands up to shoulder height and with plumes and gold braid.

They also had a very impressive mounted orchestra, with matched horses and drums and tubas. Seriously impressive, if you ask me, to ride a horse in formation while playing, just as an example, a trombone.

So the mounted orchestra all lined up in the middle of the courtyard, and the military stood at attention, and the cannons shot off their twenty-one shots, and the flags waved proudly in the breeze (I forgot to mention that the military did have flags). And the crowd of many thousands clapped politely.

So then the orchestra played the Swedish national anthem, and asked the crowd to sing along. One man standing near me removed his hat. There was a collective mumble, in which one American could clearly be heard singing "Ja, jag vill leva, jag vill dö i Norden!" Yep, that's me. The crowd then clapped politely. (But not, I think, for me.)

The next order of business was giving medals. Ten men lined up in the middle of the square and were presented one by one. The Commander in Chief (not the president in Sweden, just their highest-ranked military officer) was present to personally pin a medal on each man. Some of the men had civil clothes. I asked why they were not in uniform, and was told that since their term of service was finished, they had already given back (!) their uniforms. As the medals were presented, the circumstances were described in which each had fought to deserve a medal. Most were ín Afghanistan; for example, one man had run back under fire and rescued wounded soldiers which were being left behind. The crowd clapped politely.

The announcer then thanked the Commander for being present. The crowd clapped kind of politely.

The announcer said that the festivities were over. The crowd left.

Is it just me? Did you miss it too? Where were the HOO-AHs when the soldiers were given their medals? Do we get tears in our eyes when we hear of the bravery and sacrifice it takes to keep us safe? Do we or do we not sing our national anthem loudly? (Maybe that's just a Kelley thing?) Do we respect and cheer for our military leaders, even if we disagree with their methods? I really, really thought this was a universal thing.

If you are American, you may be like me in that you are very patriotic. You may also be like me and assume that everyone loves their own country - why live there otherwise? In America, patriotism is widely considered a positive attribute in a person, and does not exclude appreciation of other cultures or disapproval of government policies.

And I guess that's the point of seeing other cultures. So that we as Americans can understand that the American way isn't the only way, or even the only right way. Since June 6th, I've had many interesting conversations with Swedes and Swedish-Americans about patriotism. One comment which I thought was especially telling was "If we say that we are proud to be Swedish, we might offend someone who is not Swedish."

I've been reading a fascinating book which I recommend to all Americans who have Swedes in their lives. It's called Amerikanerna, Sådana är de, så tänker de. It is written by Staffan Ekendahl, a journalist who lived for many years in America as a correspondant.  He has a fairly balanced view of the positives and negatives in American culture, although I can't say that I agree with everything he says. But that's not the point. It is not so much a picture of American life as it is an absolutely fascinating picture of one Swede's reactions to America.

I will leave you with a few quotes from Ekendahls's book.

In the American national anthem exists a large part of American character, American style, maybe even the American soul. The most widely-known phrase, which is quoted often, is the last lines in the refrain, "the land of the free and the home of the brave." There is no doubt that this is how Americans perceive their country and theirselves. If they should at some point feel pessimistic, which would be uncharacteristic and therefore unlikely, they are inspired by their national anthem.

The Swedish national anthem might reflect our soul, or at least our perception of ourselves: "...you quiet one, you joyful and beautiful one..." and "you are enthroned on memories of ancient days of greatness" and at the end the slightly defiant "I want to live, I want to die in the North".

***

The majority of Americans believe that the role of government is to provide equal opportunities for everyone. In Europe the majority believes that government's most important role is to take care of those who have difficulties.

***

In Which Dreams Become Reality

The first time I came to Sweden, I was 16. And I know it’s true. Everything from the “glory
days” does tend to take on a certain golden glow in memory. I was prepared for that.

But I am here to tell you, people. IT’S JUST LIKE I  REMEMBERED IT. The sun is shining, the lilacs are blooming. And everyone has a huge hedge of lilacs, so the air is just full of lilac. The flags are still blue and yellow. The houses are still red and white. The pear-flavored ice cream is still yummy, and the coffee, and the chocolate, don’t even get me started. We walked down the road and ate kebab for our first meal in Sweden, and yep, you guessed it. It’s just as good as I remembered. And they ACTUALLY SANG Den blomstertid and En vänlig grönskas rika dräkt BOTH the first time we went to church.

But you know, this time, I get to share it with the people I love most. And it makes it ever so much more so. Even if the boys roll their eyes when I point out the flag waving above the lilacs, and make them smell the lilacs, and point out the differences between the different varieties of lilacs…

Swedish landscapes: pastoral, idyllic... should I go on?

And this time, Kristina was waiting on the platform when we got off the train in Knivsta. If you know our exchange student from 2 years ago, you know that we were more than happy to see her. If you don’t know her, I’m sorry.

We got off the plane in Sweden and found all but one of our bags, and found the train station, and even found the right train. And on the 8-minute ride to Knivsta I was looking out the window and just getting happier and happier. And if you’re sick of this, feel free to skip this post. But when the train stopped at Knivsta station and Kristina’s smiling face popped in the door, well, that was the cherry on top of the icing on the cake. To coin a phrase.

We walked down the steps and under the tracks and there’s our house, just that close. It’s a good-sized two-story house, plenty of bedrooms and a garden and a swingset. Perfect for us. And Magnus and Becky Ijäs, our brave friends who are allowing us to use their house for the summer, were there to meet us and even offering to make us lunch. But I turned them down, 'cause I've been waiting 12 years to have kebab and I wasn't waiting any more. So we walked down the street to Panorama and ate kebab.

Kebab isn't anything like shish kebabs in America. It's slow roasted meat shaved off the spit in thin slices, served with a cold cucumber-sour cream sauce and assorted veggies. Not even a Swedish tradition - it was brought here by the many middle-eastern immigrants. Kebab is similar to gyros which can be found in larger American cities, but I've never had kebab in America. Even the kids thought it was great, and they fought over the leftovers later that day.

We had a nice couple days with Ijäses. They showed us the ropes and gave us survival tips. Becky was amazingly calm and organized. They left Sunday morning with all five kids in tow. I think if I had guests two days before I left we would have missed the plane. And I was not even close to that patient and organized even without guests. I was impressed.

Everyone's got their own godis bag!

As soon as I could I took the kids under the railroad tracks and down the block to the grocery store and introduced them to the wonders of lösviktgodis, or bulk candy. Sweden has really good candy, and it's mostly sold in bulk bins by the kilogram. So it's a great way to try all the different kinds without spending a bunch of money. Although we did spend a bunch of money the first time! Since then we've made it a tradition. Each kid gets 20 crowns on Saturday that they can spend on lösviktgodis. It's supposed to last all week... Guess if it ever does?

After we got our godis we walked across town to visit Kristina in her apartment. We had an easy dinner of pasta and salad to save Becky the trouble of making dinner.

That evening we lucked out and got to sit in on the last "Sunday School" class of the year. The call it Friday hour and get together Friday evenings, which is a nice excuse to visit during the week. It was special to see the kids eager to show what they'd learned during the year. And my kids thought the big bags of candy they got at the end were great, too. I think we'll have to be very diligent about brushing teeth!

In Which I Miss Out

Ok, here's where it gets tough to be a world away.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome

Gwenna Rakel Kuoppala

born July 16th. She weighed 8 lbs 4 oz.

Here she is with her adoring family, big sister Fiona and Grandma and Grandpa Heikki and Oili Kuoppala.









Congratulations to all of you... wish I could be there!

In Which I Soak My Head

So after we finished our sightseeing I drove on back to Atak, which I have by now added to my

favorites on the GPS. We picked up a new van, one of those attractive Euro-style shuttle bus

types. I think Magnus was disappointed when I told him that stick shift wouldn’t be a problem.

We had a good night’s sleep at Egilsborg and packed up in the morning. I had planned to spend

that night closer to the airport, since we have an early flight tomorrow. On the way south we

stopped at one of Iceland’s main attractions: Blue Lagoon.

Blue Lagoon is really quite the amazing place. It’s out in the middle of a lava field, nothing but black rocks for miles. You walk down a path from the parking lot, black lava piled on all sides, come around a corner, and there’s this aqua-blue water coming out of the ground. They’ve got a serious spa set up. And are they charging serious spa prices! Me and my five kids paid $45 to get

in, and another $40 to RENT TOWELS. They were nice towels, I admit it. And you never know, maybe towels are really expensive to buy in Iceland. But really.

So we got changed and showered and headed out to check out the situation. WOW. You’ve got this huge outdoor pool, formed to look natural, rocks and sand along the edges. The water is all the same milky blue color from all the minerals. It’s also really, really salty. The rocks along the edges are white from mineral buildup. There’s pockets of naturally occurring mud which is supposed to have therapeutic properties, which everyone smears all over. There’s a swim- through bar at one end, massage table at another. Oh, and did I mention that the water is actually bubbling up out of a steam vent off to one side? There’s a cave and a waterfall and built-in benches and bridges. It took us a good hour to check the whole place out.

The little kids had swim fins and the water is very buoyant since it’s so salty. So it wasn’t as tough as I was picturing to keep track of my 3 youngest. And there wasn’t much of anything that was over 5 feet deep. Remember, the water varies from 95 to 105 degrees Fahrenheit. So nobody’s really swimming laps. Most of the pool is actually closer to 2 ½ feet deep.

We brought sandwiches and fruit for lunch, which didn’t work out too well since tourist traps usually want to make maximum money off of the trapped tourists. They actually made us eat outside the building. But they did stop short of confiscating our food, I guess. We had a chilly, quick lunch!

Back at the lagoon, we found ourselves a corner with plenty of rocks to climb and room to splash. Drew and Rosalie figured out that they didn’t have to cling to me in the salt water and had the time of their lives. They were pretty sure that they had learned how to swim! I actually dozed off leaning against the edge of the pool. We stayed for about 6 hours and were total prunes by the time we left. I was impressed and recommend the experience, despite the price. But bring your own towel!

We drove south to Keflavik and found our motel, nice and clean and much more standard than our first lodging experience. We ate some drive-through hamburgers and hopped in bed. The alarm went off at 5 AM, possibly not what I would have chosen if the plane wasn’t leaving at 8. We ate a quick breakfast and headed to KEF.

I dropped the big boys and bags off in arrivals and drove the car to the rental drop-off. Magnus

was not happy to see me, and he didn’t have an invoice for me. Since I hadn’t filled the tank

before I came, I let him know and he charged me for the diesel. He also charged me for the diesel

a few days later, when he sent me an email saying that I had scratched the van and owed him

$600. Plus the diesel. I’m still not entirely sure what to do about that… We didn’t scratch his car,

of course, or I would have said so. I must have some kind of consumer protection or else rental

companies could do this all the time. We’ll have to see. In the meantime, he took my credit card

number and charged me the money. But I refuse to let him ruin my trip!

Keflavik International is a small airport, but they make up for it by having all their departures within a couple hours in the morning, so the lines are still long. We waited to check in for one hour. By that time the lady checking us in was so harried that she sent one of our bags off without a tag. We may see that bag again someday, but I don’t have high hopes. Fortunately, I packed all our necessities in our carry-ons. I somehow figured that with 12 bags we might not get all of them through three countries!

The flight to Sweden was uneventful. It was too cloudy to see the volcano, but we did get a glimpse of the Faeroe Islands on our way past. I will admit to wanting to break into “Du Gamla, Du Fria”, Sweden’s national anthem, at my first sight of Swedish soil. But I restrained myself. Maybe all that head-soaking in Iceland actually did some good!

In Which I Do Some Sightseeing

So after spending a few days in Reykjavik I decided it was time to venture farther afield. There are quite a few things worth seeing within an hour of Reykjavik. We decided to check out some geysers and a waterfall. There's a Danish guy staying at Egilsborg who has really taken a shine to the kids. Every time we come parading through the dining area he says, "Here comes Pippi and the Wikings!" Which cracks me up since the Danish word for Viking starts with a V and is pronounced with a V, but he says Wikings every time. Anyhow, he offered to come along to help keep the kids out of the waterfall. I was a little unsure at first but decided it might be worth having the extra hands.

But first we had to visit my buddy Magnus, who said that he was not happy to see me and that he didn't have anything for me to drive, and that I had to come back at 6 to pick something up. And that three hours was plenty of time to sightsee with 5 kids, anyhow. He's the best.

So we took off to Geysir, which apparently used to be one of the biggest geysers in the world until some kooky tourists (probably more of those dumb Americans) put a bunch of soap in the blowhole to see if it would make lots of bubbles. So now it only erupts if there's an earthquake. I was sincerely hoping not to see it. There have been small earthquakes while we've been here, but nothing I have been able to feel.

Thar she blows!

There's a smaller geyser in the same area, Strokkur, that goes off every ten minutes, though, which was fun to see, and plenty of little bubbling hot springs and mud pots and of course a gift shop. The boys all got baseball caps that say Iceland. I got mittens. It's blasted cold here! You'd think we were in Iceland or something!

Then it was on the the waterfall, Gullfoss. And I was glad to have another adult along. In true un-American style, there are no guardrails. Nope, friends, you have to use your brain while travelling in Iceland. The rocks just jut out directly over the immense waterfall, kind of sloping downwards, you know, so you can work up some speed if you happen to stumble. Not really my idea of a good time with five kids, but it was very impressive.

We stopped to take pictures in an area where there was at least a rope between us and obliteration.

On the way home we saw lots of the famous Icelandic horses, brought over by the Vikings and still pretty wild. Shaggy little things, but still pretty and fun to see. We met a whole herd galloping beside the road and even saw two stallions fighting. Unfortunately I was driving so we didn't get any photos.

Beautiful scenery along the way, too. And last but not, as far as the kids were concerned, least: our Danish friend bought them all ice cream on the way back!

In Which I Sample Local Cuisine

Here we are at our most adventurous! After waking up from our nap SOME of us were still a tad grumpy... and I still wasn't even sure what a grocery store might look like in Iceland. But I recognized this! And it was a hit with the kids. Left me feeling pretty sheepish, though.

So you may or may not have heard that Iceland's volcano is erupting again. Not the unpronounceable one from last year. This one is called Grimsvatn, Grim Water in Icelandic. So our plane was the last one down before they closed the airport. I am studiously not thinking about what it might be like to spend my summer in Iceland instead of Sweden.

Once we had eaten some food we drove around the city for a bit. Reykjavik is a very small capital city! One side to the other in maybe ten minutes. And we did track down a grocery store. So we picked up a random sampling of things we'd never seen before and brought them back to the hostel.

We made some Danish porridge which was a little strange, kind of a cross between tapioca and pasta. A little reminiscent of fish eggs, actually. Even the Danish guy at the hostel didn't recognize it. But they sell blueberry soup already made in cartons, which we added to the porridge. That was really good. And a really yummy, creamy Gouda cheese on hardtack, and that good, good European bread that is nothing like the marshmallow bread we have at home. We also grabbed some jam that we couldn't identify. We even asked a Brit in the store if he knew what it was, but he didn't recognize the word. Something exotic, we figured! When we got to the hostel Maggi informed us that it was "blended berries". So much for exotic, ha ha.

4 AM in Iceland

We all slept well that night. There is a little playground outside the hostel where the kids played while I made dinner, so they were plenty tired out. It actually got dark that night because of the ash. I woke up once at 4AM and peeked out the window. The sun was up by then but the sky was a funny orange color. But by the time we woke up for the day at ONE O'CLOCK (!!) the north wind had picked up and the sky was clear again. It was very chilly with the wind blowing straight out of Greenland. It even snowed a bit that night.

I was a little fried that we had slept so late, but when I counted out how many hours I'd slept (6 out of the last 72) I decided that we probably needed it.

We spent most of our afternoon at the city pool, which was heated geothermally. But even then the wind was so cold that our ears were aching, so we mostly stayed in one of the "hot pots", a smaller area surrounded by tall rocks to keep out the wind. But the kids had fun and the boys went down the waterslide. Even Rosalie went down once or twice.

Then we found a tiny little fishing shack restaurant where we ordered barbequed whale, lobster soup, and fish soup with squid. All very good and all very expensive.

Back at Egilsborg they had fixed the windows, so it was looking a bit more presentable. I did some laundry and the kids went to bed. I feel like I have a handle on the traffic and the city map and the food. We're settling in, hopefully not for the summer! The airport is supposed to reopen tomorrow, if the wind keeps blowing the right direction.

In Which I Experience Customer Service, Iceland Style

At the rental car office I was met by my new friend, Magnus Gunnarson, who was not happy to see me and remained in this state throughout my stay in Iceland. I was informed that I wasn't supposed to be in Iceland until noon, and because I had the temerity to show up on my scheduled flight, my car wasn't ready yet. But he did me the massive favor of showing me a car which was like the one he was willing to let me have in five short hours.

Well, folks, I want to assure you that when I called and talked to him from the USA, and when he said they had a 7-seater car for me, what he MEANT was that they would take a 5-seater wagon and bolt two extra seats into the cargo area. Remember those twelve bags we chatted about earlier? Minor details. At this point my new friend informed me that this car was not an option for me. Ah, I said. I am sure that you will fix this for me! Insert eyelash flutter here. Cue fighting kids in background.

He rolled his eyes, ladies and gents.

So we mosied back to his office while the kids argued in the shuttle van, and he discussed the fact that he wasn't able to help me at length. Which I of course accepted with stoic magnamity. He eventually decided that he would loan me the van my kids were already sitting in, perhaps anticipating that it would be easier than moving them. I thanked him and gave him a tin of tea which I had brought from America. He informed me that America was not known for its tea. He also wondered if a 'tea infusion' had anything to do with nuclear fusion. Yes, he was truly a peach.

So after renting me a carseat which did not work and sending a flunkie to buckle it into the backseat since the seatbelt in the middle was broken, he informed me that I was to drive to his other office, that he would meet me there when he got there, and that he would give me a carseat which did work at that time. He also informed me that I would be returning this van halfway through my stay, as he 'needed it for someone else.' Jaha, as they say in Sweden. Emphasis on the ha.

But I was happy to be on my way, and I had a GPS (although as I discovered he hadn't paid for updates on a few years) and my kids were happier as well once they were back under my supervision, ha ha. It's maybe a 50 minute drive to Reykjavik from the airport.

And wow, folks, Iceland is quite the place. The first 30 minutes or so were lava rock as far as the eye can see. Cinder cones in the background, ocean in the foreground. the occasional fishing village in between. And lots and lots of black lava rocks.

Our first international adventure consisted of, you guessed it, a potty stop. We now know the location of most of the public restrooms in Iceland, if you ever need a tour.

Once in Reykjavik, we found the car rental office. I was met by my new friend Magnus, who wondered why it took me so long, and who immediately left and said he'd be back in fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes later, another employee arrived who gave me a new carseat and wondered where Magnus was. I could, unfortunately, not enlighten him.

But we were glad to be done with Atak Car Rentals for the time being and headed to track down the guesthouse where I had booked a room. We typed in the address into the GPS and it took us almost straight there, with a minimum of road construction etc.

As we pulled into the parking lot at Egilsborg Guesthouse I noticed that the front windows were both broken out. Hmm. So I took the kids out of the car and went to scope out the situation. The door was unlocked. You enter directly into the dining are which smelled distinctly of cigarette smoke. It was empty. As was the kitchen, and the hall, and the second floor, and the third floor. No one at all. Hmm again.

At this point the boys were pretty sure they didn't want to stay at Egilsborg (translation: Egil's castle). But I was trying to be upbeat so we hopped in the car to find some breakfast. I thought I could drive around the neighborhood and see what kind of place we'd ended up in. And it really seemed ok. Kids on scooters and Icelandic pappas out with their baby carriages. And we found a dreamy bakery where we ate ham and cheese filled pastries and sandwiches and orange juice. So I really did think we could give the whole thing a try.

The next time I tried the hostel I ran into a Spaniard who had been staying there for some months. He had no idea where to find the owner, although he did mention that things were "strange" there at times. A good sign.

But after we ran to the downtown area, fed the ducks, went to the Viking store, and picked up some tourist pamphlets, we finally had some luck. As we were pulling out of the hostel parking lot for the third time (and on our way to find another place to stay) the owner came running out to meet us. He had obviously just woken up.
Apparently there had been an incident with a drunk in the night, hence the broken window and sleeping owner. And the sign telling where to find the owner (room 3) was on the part of the window that had been broken. I was feeling pretty sceptical despite his explanations, but I really didn't want to start dragging five kids all over town to find another place. And I knew that anywhere else was going to cost much more.

So I followed him up the stairs to our room, which was clean and good-sized. I started to feel better about it at that point, but the clincher was when he said we could also have the room across the hall without adding to the price. So we hauled up our bags.

The owner, whose name is Maggi, ended up to be a really nice guy. He let me use his laptop to mail Quinton to let him know we were alive, and he gave us lots of sightseeing tips and advice. He was always pleasant and he didn´t even blink when we had one bed-wetting incident (sigh). In fact, he thanked me for telling him instead of just leaving it, and washed the bedding, and cleaned the mattress. Which was more patient than I felt about the situation, let me tell you.

So we settled in for a nap, which was desperately needed by that time. Leif and Rosalie had slept some in the van, so they wrote quietly in their journals and played a game Mormor bought them for the plane. The beds were comfortable, but by that time it didn't matter anyway. We crashed.