I was tired after work today and so didn’t go to Swedish class. I’m a little exhausted after the last two days at work which I’ve found a little boring and bureaucratic. So I came home, bought a pizza, bought a bottle of wine, and did absolutely nothing, as I consumed both while watching television.
There was a truly hilarious moment today when I realised just how much of a fish out of water I am: my wheelchair got stuck in the snow. I’ve flown up to Luleå in the north of Sweden, and throughout this trip, I’ve been using wheelchair support to navigate the airports. Usually, the terminals are massive and confusing, and with the added complexity of security checks for my prosthetic limb and hip, the assistance just makes the journey so much smoother.
Luleå is the most remote stop on this trip—a municipality of about 80,000 people on the far north coast, only about 90 minutes from the Finnish border. It’s a part of the world where the lakes and rivers literally freeze over for months, and daylight is a rare commodity. The hour-long flight from Stockholm was spectacular; as we descended over the coast, I realised the vast expanse of white below wasn’t land, but the frozen ocean. The line between earth and sea is completely blurred this far north. It was absolutely stunning.
Upon landing, a young man met me to assist with the trek to the terminal. We walked down a few stairs onto the tarmac, which was blanketed in snow. He started pushing me, but the chair struggled immediately in the deep powder. I offered to walk—I can manage that distance—but he was persistent, and we eventually crunched our way inside.
I was greeted by my friend and colleague, Carrie. She’s a fascinating mix—half Swedish, half Australian. She lived in Australia for 15 years, which seems impossible to me; the time has flown. She eventually fell in love, and her partner moved back to Sweden with her.
We spent the day sightseeing, starting with a visit to the local recycling centre. The Swedes do recycling on a scale that puts us to shame; it’s not just bins for cans and bottles, but massive hubs for clothes and everything else imaginable. Afterwards, we drove around the area. Everything is a blinding, flat white. We visited the harbour, which was being prepped for a big festival where people ice-skate over immense distances.
Walking on the ice and snow is a challenge with my disability, but I discovered the kick-sled. For me, it functioned like a Nordic walking frame. You’re supposed to put one foot on a blade and kick with the other, which I obviously can’t do, but using it for stability made me feel incredibly mobile and confident.
We also dropped by Carrie’s workplace—a local radio station. It was a “busman’s holiday” moment, seeing a station operating in a format so similar to my crew at the ABC. Despite the distance, the role in the community and the staff energy felt exactly like home. They’re currently in the thick of Winter Olympics coverage. We paused for a coffee and a kanelbulle (cinnamon bun) before heading to Gammelstad.
Gammelstad is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and we stepped into a 15th-century Lutheran church just as one baptism was ending and another was beginning. I saw a woman running through the snow carrying a baby who looked absolutely frozen! The highlight, however, was the “church town”—hundreds of tiny red cottages nestled in the snow. It was overwhelmingly beautiful. We drove back over the frozen river and through forests where the trees were bowing under the weight of the snow. I felt like a child; I was beside myself with excitement at an environment so alien to the Australian Outback.
Later, I ventured out independently while Carrie rested. Luleå’s shopping district is fairly standard for a country town, but I enjoyed a quiet coffee before navigating the bus system back to Carrie’s. I’m not entirely sure I paid—the driver said something in Swedish, I tapped my card (I think?), and he let me on. When I hopped off 15 minutes later, I was momentarily lost—every house looks identical when covered in white! Thankfully, I heard a voice call out, “James, I’m here!” and Carrie guided me home.
The evening ended with a dinner party with several of Carrie’s colleagues from Swedish radio and TV. They were a lovely, eclectic group. The highlight of the night was the Melodifestivalen (Mello) fever. Even in the middle of a sophisticated dinner conversation, the intensity of interest in the Eurovision heats was incredible. Everything stopped so we could watch the final entries and the voting. They seemed genuinely shocked that an Australian knew as much about the contest details as they did.
The Swedes really do love their Mello. A perfect end to a day in the deep north.
It’s not often you hear the name “Nanne Grönvall” mentioned anywhere outside of Sweden. She’s a well-known singer-songwriter there, and she just happens to be the daughter-in-law of Benny from ABBA. But aside from a few attempts at Eurovision, she is really only well-known in Sweden and usually sings in Swedish.
Earlier this year while I was in Sweden I saw her perform, and was lucky enough to meet her and obtain a signed CD which I’ve had on my notice-board ever since I’ve been back. Most people who come into my office would have no idea who she was. But someone today did.
He was a bloke from Melbourne who was into discuss a potential project. As the meeting ended with the usual pleasantries he then said – and you could have knocked me over with a feather – “I love your signed Nanne Grönvall CD”.
“I’m a huge fan of Melodifestivalen”, he told me when I asked how he knew Nanne. We then went on to chat about this year’s competition, and I then told him I’d attended and was able to show him some photographs. How random is that?
A few hours later I was on a bus and I heard a few more words you hardly ever hear in Australia: grönsaker and kyckling (the Swedish words for vegetables and chicken). There was a bloke seated behind me who was obviously chatting to someone about their shopping requirements for dinner that evening.
So it’s been a day of random Swedish moments. I’m sure it’s a sign… (of something).
I was on the bus, by the way, to see my friend who has been in hospital for a few weeks. He’s not 100%, but considerably better than he was a few weeks ago.
When I woke this morning, there was a brief moment when I realised I had absolutely no idea what day it was. “Is it Saturday? Is it Sunday?” Later in the day an older family member joked, “You need to get yourself checked out for alzheimers. That’s how I feel most days”.
I don’t think it’s that serious. It’s just a reflection of the fluidity of life right now, with the often ill-defined delineation between work and home, and spending many days never leaving the house. Perhaps it’s a good preparatory lesson for life in retirement?
Like many others, I got up early for the ANZAC Day Commemorative Service, as people participated around the coutry from their front yards, verandahs and balconies. A great contrast for me to what happens most years, and most memorably to the day I visited Gallipoli for ANZAC Day in 2013. https://thelimbshift.com/anzac-day-in-turkey/
I love these comments from Jean, a friend on Facebook.
Edna & those army chaps !! This is rolled gold social history. Love the generosity of spirit she recalls which helped her family survive during the war, relying on the goodness of neighbours for the basics, do we see that today?
We saw something akin to that in the recent bushfires I thought ..an empathy out of the ruins ..maybe all is not lost.
So yeah, quiet, though I’m still keeping my mind active, even if I sometimes forget what day it is.
And then today, there was this.
All of this reminds me of a rather amusing observation I read on Twitter the other day that right now “Bedtime is either 7pm or 3am”.
I had a big lump of lamb for the second time in three days today. The first time was at dinner the other night. The second time was for lunch today. And my goodness, it tasted good.
I was invited to a mate’s place for lunch today. We often have a meal together on a Sunday, though it’s been a few months (obviously) since we’ve done that. We get together, we listen to some music, chat about our lives, and have some really good tucker together.
And today it was lamb. “I know you like it a bit raw”, he said, when I commented on how tasty it was. And added to the lamb was some mint jelly. And there was a side dish of cauliflower, beans and carrots.
It’s been a warm day in Sydney, one of the hottest so far this year, according to the news.
So after lunch I walked back from my mate’s place at Centennial Park via Oxford Street (Paddington), down through Darlinghurst, and then along Crown Street back towards home. It’s such a beautiful time of the year in Sydney.
Nothing much to report from tonight aside from a bit of television watching (don’t ask me what I’ve seen, because nothing was memorable), a bit of computer surfing, and some chatting on the phone. Don’t you hate it, though, when you ring your family and get voice mail? “Where are they?”, I thought to myself.
Swedish class was a lot easier this week, and therefore a lot more enjoyable.
Amongst the many things we did this week was listen to, and study the lyrics from the recent Melodifestivalen hit song, Snälla snälla by Caroline af Ugglas. Grant did a terrific translation of the song, and I brought a CD along to class. We read the words, attempted our own translation, and then listened to the song.
It was good in many ways. The lyrics were reasonably simple and so we could all follow what was happening without too much difficult. It was great fun to listen to the song, and it seemed to cross the range of age and interests in the group. And mostly, it was a new and contemporary way to practice Swedish.
Oh yeah, and did I mention the rain?
Last night, we were heading home without the power. Tonight, it was in heavy rain.
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