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Archive for Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

Kate Reuterswärd is an American, a serial expat, and a travel addict who has been lured to Sweden by love. You can follow Kate on Twitter @kwise321 or check out her personal blog

Happy Cinnamon Bun Day!

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As if you didn’t already have enough reasons to love Sweden, today is a minor national holiday celebrating… wait for it… cinnamon buns.

The fun just never stops around here, I’m telling you.

And because I take this blogging job very seriously and I consider it a very serious obligation to give you the inside scoop on all important Swedish happenings, I have tasted a lot of cinnamon buns this week. It’s all in the name of duty.

I have eaten A LOT of cinnamon buns this week. Let this be a testament to my commitment to the art of blogging. Photos: Kate Wiseman

Here’s the thing, though: no one seems to know why Sweden has a National Cinnamon Bun Day (Kanelbullens Dag). I talked to professional and amateur bakers alike and asked them what it is that makes the cinnamon bun special among all the other fantastic baked goods in Sweden. Why is the cinnamon bun so important within Swedish food culture?

Blank stares, giggles, uncomfortable squirming. As it turns out, National Cinnamon Bund Day is a relatively new phenomenon—it was started in 1999 to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Hembakningsrådet, which translates roughly to “Home Baking Council.” The Council was established in 1959 with the goal of providing information and inspiration for home bakers. Hilariously enough, the primary funders at that time were Jästbolaget (produces yeast), Kungsörnen (flour), Margarinbolaget (margarine), Saltsjökvarn (flour and grains), and Sockerbolaget (sugar). At present, Nordic Sugar is the primary sponsor of Hembakningsrådet. I feel like the Sugar Plum Fairy should be their Honorary CEO.

The Council’s own explanation for celebrating the cinnamon bun rather than any other bun isn’t much more concrete than anything I heard in person. They cite the feelings of enjoyment, comfort, and happiness that a cinnamon bun brings, plus its nearly universal popularity among Swedes. Kristina Eriksson, author of an entire cookbook of Cinnamon Buns and other freshly-baked buns, wrote that “cinnamon buns symbolize so many positive things; the fresh-baked smell, warmth, generosity, childhood, and home… a feeling of total contentment.”

As vague as people are in explaining why cinnamon buns are so important, there are no lukewarm opinions as to what separates a so-so cinnamon bun from the real deal.

I met my friend Josefine and her husband, Johan, on the street—without hesitation, Johan said that the best cinnamon buns are the ones your mom makes for you. Josefine said that it has to do with the consistency: the best ones are just a little undercooked, so they’re warm and squishy on the inside without being crispy on the outside. The saleswomen at Ramklint’s Bakery in Lund, which won the coveted “Best in Test” prize, said that it was a question of what you put inside the buns… and recommended judicious use of almond paste. The women at Lund’s Surdeg (Sourdough) Bakery had the simplest answer: lots of butter.

A few of the advertisements around town... every bakery I asked said that there's a big increase in demand for cinnamon buns on their special day. Photos: Kate Wiseman

Another factor people brought up when talking about the greatness of Swedish cinnamon buns is their versatility. Yes, there are a few aesthetic prototypes (the neatly wrapped roll, the intricately twirled bun, etc.), but what you put in your cinnamon bun is up to you. Cardamom, almond paste, pistachios, vanilla sugar, hazelnut paste, chocolate, pecans, even fruit jams… the sky’s the limit.

I thought it would be fun to do a side-by-side comparison of Swedish and American cinnamon buns, but it didn’t really go anywhere. In the immortal words of my boyfriend, who is an admitted Cinnabon fanatic:  “They are two different things, impossible to compare in any way. It’s like preferring salmon over Jell-O shots.” Yet another reason why I love this man.

If you’re feeling up to baking some Swedish-style cinnamon buns yourself, give this recipe by Sweden.se food blogger Anne a try! (Her recipe uses fresh yeast, so if you have access to only active dry yeast, give these substitutions a try: from Food.com, from The Fresh Loaf.)

In the meantime, Happy Cinnamon Bun Day! I raise my coffee cup in honor of  everyone’s favorite buttery, sweet, cinnamony treat. And thank goodness it only comes once a year, because I feel like my stomach is going to explode.

Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

October 4, 2011

Very Superstitious!

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I was one of those kids who believed in Santa Claus for too long. I read a lot of fantasy and Sci-Fi growing up, too, so I had certain (socially awkward) beliefs about the presence of magic in our everyday lives. Then there was the part where I would pray to certain saints for help depending on what they were in charge of in the Catholic Church. St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost things, was a particular favorite of a forgetful, 14-year-old me.

As time went on, however, the importance of those superstitions faded. I still harbor some residual faith in magical beings and say an “Our Father” every time I take off or land in a plane, but that’s about it.

It was only when I moved to Austria that superstitions became a source of interest again—and this time, because the superstitions seemed so strange. Then, of course, I had to check the Austrian superstitions against the Swedish ones, and there were more than a few similarities.

For example, it’s very dangerous for a girl to sit on the pavement or on steps when it’s cold outside. The cold will penetrate your you-know-what, and you’ll get a life-threatening urinary tract infection. When you get a cold, it’s important to eat—no, not citrus fruits, but garlic; this remedy is usually taken raw, sliced, and mixed with yogurt.

My all-time favorite, although I think this is an Austria-only superstition, is definitely the Topfen Treatment. Topfen (also known as Quark, Weißkäse, or Kesella) is a lot like cottage cheese, and in Austria, it’s a common filling for desserts. When my friend, Elaine, got carpal tunnel syndrome in Vienna, her doctor told her that surgery was unnecessary because all she needed to do was let her wrist rest in a good amount of quark, as the cheese would “draw the inflammation out.” Right.

So much cake, so much potential for disaster. Photo: Kate Wiseman

The first time I encountered a superstition in Sweden, I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that there was a lot of laughter going on with the serving of a cake, and my boyfriend’s mother was violently shaking her dish until the slice of cake fell on its side. Now I know that—of course!—if your slice of cake falls over, you’ll never get married, which is just the way Malena wants it.

Then I learned in my Swedish for Immigrants class that people don’t really cross their fingers to wish you luck here. They hold their thumbs. If you see someone waving their clenched fist at you—don’t be alarmed. They’re just wishing you good luck.

Then there’s the magic surrounding Midsummer’s Eve, which definitely falls under the label of “magic I’m totally willing to believe in.” According to legend, if you pick seven kinds of flowers in complete silence on Midsummer’s Eve and sleep with them under your pillow, you’ll dream of your future husband. (This one is hetero-woman specific, sorry!)

My seven flowers didn't reveal my future husband, but they did add an air of mystery to the night. Photo: Kate Wiseman

I was really excited to try this out, so I picked my flowers in silence and slept with them under my pillow. Unfortunately, I got confused by the fact that we were celebrating Midsummer on Midsummer’s Eve, so I picked my flowers on Midsummer’s Eve’s Eve… it’s confusing. You understand why this was an easy mistake to make. (Right? Right?) In any case, my sleep was dreamless. I guess I’ll just have to make up my own mind!

Another one I love in weather-obsessed Sweden: if it rains on your wedding, you’ll have a long and happy marriage. I won’t say anything against this one because it rained (very briefly) on our friends’ wedding day, and of course I want it to stand as an omen of good luck. What I will say, however, is that if rain on your wedding day is a serious objective, getting married in Sweden is a great idea.

This guy is not threatening you or asking you to join his movement. He’s wishing you good luck, obviously! Photo: Artbandito (CC BY-NC-ND)

The more you know, the more dangerous it gets. Apparently stepping on manholes with an “A” on them is bad luck, and now I try to skip over them, even though I don’t know how or why they would possibly give me bad luck. What’s more, there’s kind of a lot of them once you’re paying attention. Leaving your keys on the table is also bad luck, a belief that supposedly dates back to ye good olde days in Sweden, when prostitutes would signal their availability by leaving the keys to their rooms on the bar.

At times, these little tips come in handy. Instead of having to be paralyzed when you meet a black cat on the road, you can just say “tvi-tvi-tvi” over your shoulder instead and keep on marching on. Instead of just knocking on wood, you can add a little chant: “peppar, peppar, ta i trä!”

I tried to read more about superstitions, but I quickly ran out of English-language texts, and the Swedish sources used so many words that were not in the dictionary that I had to give up. I imagine it’s like how I vaguely know the difference between a sprite, a dryad, a gnome, an elf, and a troll from children’s books and nursery tales. It’s these pieces of cultural information that I’m still missing more than a year into living in Sweden, and this kind of cultural literacy that is just as difficult to attain (if not harder) than language skills.

Being an expat—it’s a journey of a million teeny-tiny steps, and without knowing my destination, I can tell you that it’s one hell of an interesting trip.

A final message from the one and only Stevie Wonder:

Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

October 2, 2011

The Low Down on the Love Visa, Part 2

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When I first told my family about the existence of the sambo visa, they were pretty amused and immediately started calling it “the loooooooove visa.” Of course, I cleared up any misunderstandings they might have by showing them this video.

Everyone who is granted a sambo visa is required to enroll immediately in samba lessons and travel in a roving samba-sambo pack. Obviously. Then you have to wrestle a drunken elk. (The winner gets to stay in Sweden.)

Now, I’m no immigration expert, but I get a lot of questions on my other blog, Transatlantic Sketches, about the visa process and what my experiences were. So here goes:

Before I figured out that I could apply for what a residence permit for “individuals who… intend to… cohabit with someone who is a Swedish citizen,” the chances of my boyfriend and I getting to live even in the same country were looking pretty slim. We were going into year 1.5 of our long distance relationship, he was in school, and I was a recent grad without much experience in the job market. The global economy was in the early stages of what would become a full blown funk, and I wasn’t finding any jobs in Sweden (or in the rest of Europe, for that matter) willing to give me a work visa. Epic long distance relationship fail.

Then came the fateful day when I clicked on the link for “Residence Permit based on family or personal connection,” figuring it was worth checking out even though it was probably just for siblings and grandparents or something like that. It took a while to realize that I was actually eligible to apply for this visa through my boyfriend, but when I did, we went full steam ahead with it.

In short, what you need to do is:

  1. Fill out a bunch of forms to show who you are and that you have enough money to support yourself,
  2. Get your significant other to send you a “personbevis,” which is a Swedish governmental document proving his/her identity,
  3. Notarized copies of your passport and a copy of your Swede’s passport,
  4. A brief personal letter stating when you’re planning to move, where you’ll live, and whether you have an offer of employment,
  5. Include, excitingly enough, “proof of your relationship.”

Forms, documents, personal letter—no problem. I didn’t have any job offers at that point, but I just wrote something vague, saying I would move whenever I got the visa and continue to look for a job as an English teacher.

Now, proof of the relationship. Exciting, right? I was working full time as a waitress at the time, and the money I was earning was directly related to the amount of pain I felt in my feet every day, so I was not about to leave anything up to chance here and risk having to pay the visa application fee again.

As per the embassy’s recommendation, I printed off airline tickets and copied the pages of my passport with customs stamps. I included about 100 pictures of my boyfriend and I in different locations, with different haircuts, and different levels of tan-ness, labeled with the place and the date. I even included the receipt for the language program I had bought to start learning Swedish. As I said, nothing was being left up to chance.


House of Sweden in Washington, DC. Home of the Embassies of Sweden and Iceland, and the setting for a very exciting immigration interview. Photo: M.V. Jantzen (CC BY-NC)

A few weeks later, I had an interview.

In case you were wondering, is the interview anything like it is in the movies?, the answer to your question is definitely yes. (See The Proposal to refresh your memory.) I scheduled my interview for early December when my boyfriend would be visiting me. While he sat out in the lobby and filled out more paperwork, I was escorted off to a tiny room, just two cute, blonde, middle-aged Swedish interrogators and I, separated by only a giant sheet of bulletproof glass. We spoke to each other through microphones.

I was really hoping for some oddball questions because I had spent the previous 24 hours quizzing him on his favorite foods, his parents’ middle names, whether he had smelly feet or not… and so on. To my slight disappointment, the questions were extremely easy. For the most part, they reviewed information already in the application—where had we met, when had we been together, what was his background, what did I like about him, etc. To be honest, I think they were just trying to see if I answered the questions naturally or if it seemed rehearsed.

Before I knew it, we were done. They told me that I was excused, and I stood up and tried the door. It was locked. “Oops!” they said, laughing. “Sometimes people get locked in there!” Uhh…

On the application website, it said that it might take 6-9 months to get a decision on my application. In the meantime, one of the positions I’d been applying for came through, so I decided to pack my bags and head off to Vienna, Austria, to work for an international NGO.

We had started filling out paperwork in October, turned it in in November, interviewed in December, and in January, about two weeks into my internship in Vienna, I got an email saying that my request had been approved. The whole process took less than three months, even factoring in the holidays. The only problem was that I wasn’t really in DC to pick up my visa anymore.

I emailed the Embassy in the United States and talked to Migrationsverket (the Migration Board) in Sweden and after much confusion, they said I could get my visa stamped into my passport at the Swedish Embassy in Austria. Despite the immigration officials’ expressions of extreme surprise, this must happen fairly often, because I’ve met quite a few people who had to pick up their visas abroad in places other than where they applied from. If this happens to you, keep calm and carry on. Everyone will act like it’s the first time this ever happened in the history of immigration, but it will work out.

Then it was finally time to move to Sweden! In July 2010, my boyfriend drove through half of Europe to pick me and all of my stuff up and take it all to Sweden! Once you get there, the last step is registering at Skatteverket, the Tax Agency, but then you’re pretty much set.

Welcome to Lund! Photos: Kate Wiseman

My visa will be expiring next January, so I’m just starting to go through the renewal process now… it’s not the most fun thing to have to do, but I’m glad I’ve been able to live here as a sambo and continue my relationship with my beloved Swede.

I don’t know what we would have done if I hadn’t been able to come here—maybe one of us would have had to go to school in the other’s country, or maybe we would have found a third country to host us both. After such a long time spent maintaining our relationship alive on Skype, I’m very grateful that we’ve had the chance to live in the same place and see if we actually work well together in real life. And I’m glad that we’ve been able to find out that we do really enjoy each other’s company on a day-to-day basis, through the ups and the downs, through all the laundry dates and bill-paying and everything else that happens in a normal relationship.

More questions about the sambo visa? Lay them on me. And for those of you in the middle of this process—good luck!

Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

September 25, 2011

The Skinny on the Sambo Visa, Part 1

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If you or someone you love has been in a serious relationship with someone from another country, you are well aware of the dreaded V word: v-, v-, v-, VISA!!!!

I don’t know what kinds of conversations people from the same country have about the future, but the conversations between my boyfriend and I were dominated by questions like, When will we see each other next? When will we be able to live in the same place again? And where in the world will that be?

Enter the answer to all of your location-based problems: the sambo visa. Bless you, Sweden, for this contribution to international migration policy. May all countries take this as an example. (cough *USA!* cough)

Finally together and happy about it! Woot woot, thank you Sweden for the sambo visa! Photos: Kate Wiseman

So here’s the skinny on the sambo visa: if you’ve been in a committed relationship with a Swedish citizen, preferably one where you’ve lived together before, then you can get a visa to live with that person in Sweden, plus the right to work. Oh yeah, and free Swedish lessons. And health care. (Pretty much the only thing you can’t get, actually, is the government stipend for full time students. You have to become a permanent resident for that.)

So let me tell you a little about myself: I was raised Catholic, in the suburbs, in the Midwest of the United States. In my high school health class, you could get extra credit if you wrote “Abstinence is the only 100% effective birth control method” at the top of your test next to your name and the date. Sleepovers were forbidden, and my 12:30 curfew remained in effect all the way through college. (Now that I’m thinking about it, I realized that it might still be in effect.)

Suffice to say, I find it totally mind blowing that there is a special visa for two young things to move to Sweden… and live in sin… with the full approval of the law. My “sambo” visa is essentially the equivalent of a marriage visa without pushing me to actually tie the knot.

I am so grateful that the country of Sweden is as welcoming towards unmarried couples as it is. In Sweden, however, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Living together with your boyfriend/girlfriend as a “sambo” is extremely common, especially when things get a little more serious. In fact, it’s considered more socially unacceptable to marry someone that you haven’t lived with than the other way around—you’re seen as making a major mistake if you commit to someone forever if you haven’t given cohabitation at least a trial run.

Stockholm University’s Center for Gender Studies conducted a survey on attitudes of 20-30 year olds and found that an overwhelming majority approved of sambo relationships even when the couple has children. This study* found that two-thirds of couples get married at some point after having their first child and that the most common reasons for getting married are for romance’s sake and as a way of demonstrating the seriousness of the relationship. The idea of getting married “for the sake of the children” or for economic reasons was explicitly seen as a bad idea… which is very different from the attitudes I’ve seen in the United States.

Sweden’s generous immigration policy is good strategy, too. Even though I certainly reaped more of the social welfare benefits than I paid for in taxes for the first year, a year later and I can speak Swedish, I’m working a couple of steady jobs, and I’m settling in more and more. Even though I miss home, there are a lot of advantages to living in Sweden, and if I stay, Sweden’s original investment in my integration is going to more than pay off in the long run. They didn’t have to spend the money to educate me, but I’ll be a taxpayer.  Even in the short term, they’ve gotten a blogger to spread the gospel of Sweden throughout the world…

Tomorrow, I’ll share my experiences applying for (and getting!!) my sambo visa. In the meantime, let me know what you think of the sambo visa in the comments—or take this opportunity to get your questions out there! I’m no expert, but I’ve been through it once before, and I’m happy to help!

 

—–

*Follow this link to find the study I was referring to… unfortunately, I could only find it in Swedish, but maybe Google Translate can help those who are curious to learn more.

Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

September 24, 2011

5 Lessons Expats Can Learn from Modern-Day Vikings

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A little while ago, my stalwart companion in all potentially corny Swedish adventures (Steve) and I went to the Viking Reserve in Southern Sweden, and I keep thinking about the Vikings we met there.

When they spoke about living as the Vikings did, the passion they have for their lifestyle was clear in every word, and I found myself thinking about the lessons that expats could learn from the way they embrace the constant newness and discovery that comes with their lives as Vikings.

1. Follow what you love.

Choosing to live as a Viking in modern day Sweden is not exactly a common phenomenon, but the two Vikings we met, Jessica and Peter, obviously knew why they were there and how their choices reflected their priorities in life. That kind of clarity seems to be the result of both reflection and action—understanding what they want and making it happen.

Which way to Viking Town? Photo: Kate Wiseman

Last July, I knew why I was moving to Sweden—it was to finally be with my boyfriend after two years of dating long distance. The question of what to do with myself once I was here turned out to be a little harder to figure out.

When I found myself in a new country, without a job and adrift from my normal life and routines, it was really difficult to set a course of action to create a life here that was in line with the goals I had for myself in the States. I had to start from scratch in so many ways—with Swedish, with a resume that didn’t mean much to Swedish employers, without an understanding of how the job market works here.  I keep trying to follow what I love, however, in order to feel like the way I spend my time is worthwhile.

2. It’s all about your mindset.

I kept interrogating the Vikings for more details as to how they actually survive the winter. The Reserve is located on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, and I can only imagine the wind chill come February. How, how, how is it possible that you don’t die, frozen stiff under an animal pelt?

While Peter satisfied my desire to know the specifics, he kept repeating the obvious foundation to his lifestyle: it’s all about your mindset. You have to think about possible problems and risks in advance, and you have to prepare for the unknowable.

Expats face the same demands when it comes to adjusting their mindset towards preparation and forethought. Just going from Lund to Malmö for a night out with friends used to require the careful consultation of timetables, maps drawn on napkins, and frantic phone calls home to my boyfriend to ask for more directions.

Trying to learn a new language also takes a certain mindset—one that’s open to vulnerability. If you want to make progress, you have to dare to speak and be willing to be wrong. Tackling bureaucratic tasks requires yet another mindset—one that mixes endless resolve, patience, and optimism.

The need to adopt all these mindsets is one reason why it’s so tiring to be an expat; it’s hard to let your guard down when you’re not on your home turf.  It’s manageable, though, and it gets better with time.

3. Make it work.

One of the most interesting things Peter and Jessica told us about was their explorations into “experimental history” to find out how to live most authentically on the reserve. In short, they examine historical records and artifacts for clues as to how the Vikings accomplished things in their daily lives, then they (the modern day Vikings) give it a try themselves. If it doesn’t work, they’ll reexamine the source for more clues, give it another try, or move on to the next thing—all in pursuit of solutions.

MAKE IT WORK, as a certain fashionista would say. Photos: Kate Wiseman

It’s the same in expat life. You have to constantly try to make things work using the best information you have and the tools that are at hand. A year and a half ago, I moved here to Vienna with two suitcases. Several Ikea expeditions and a couple of trips home later, the amount of stuff—clothing, books, cooking ware, etc.—has more than doubled, and still there are times when I think, if I only I just had that … from home. When that happens, you just have to make do, looking up solutions on the internet or making them up as you go along.

One thing is sure: life never gets boring when you have to improvise on a daily basis.

4. Draw strength from your community.

Peter and Jessica did not talk about their alienation from “the real world” at length, but Peter mentioned his mother’s unhappiness at his retreat to the Reserve, his long hair, and his Viking outfits. Even if you know you’re doing the right thing for yourself, making unconventional life choices is rarely painless. That’s when your community comes into play.

I love the Swedish friends I have made here, and I have a close relationship with my family in the States. But man-oh-man, there are days when I just need to sit with some American expats and let it all out: the good, the bad, the exhilarating, the frustrating, all the petty annoyances we suffer as foreigners perpetually on the wrong foot, all the joy we get out of small victories.

It is so good to be with someone who understands where you’re coming from intuitively instead of just sympathizing with your discomfort because they like you and they trust the legitimacy of your emotions. I would be lost without my expat community to bolster me.

Cooking with the American Women's Club in Malmö, hanging with my American friend, Cecile. Photos: Kate Wiseman and Cecile Pham

5. OWN IT.

One of the most striking things about the Peter and Jessica was how they described themselves. They didn’t call themselves “historical reenactors” or “Viking impersonators;” they called themselves Vikings. I love that. There are so many people who hide their goofy passions for fear of being exposed as secret nerds, but I say if you’re going to walk the walk, you might as well talk the talk.

The most obvious corollary in expat life is how you answer the question we all dread, “So what do you do?”

When you move abroad for a person rather than for a job, it can be hard to find a position in your destination country that matches the seniority or prestige of the one you left behind. There’s no shame in that, but I have heard so many expat women living with or married to Swedes sort of mumble out what they do during the day with a lengthy disclaimer of what they did before and what they’re looking for.

I’m also guilty of acting like I don’t have anything to be proud of. For months, I avoided mentioning my job blogging here when meeting new people for fear that they would laugh at me and think I was a silly girl with a laptop and an inflated sense of self.

The more settled-in I get, though, the more frustrating I find this expat bashfulness about what they’re doing with their lives. I understand feeling like it’s not up to your previous standards. If you’re going to bother making the leap to another country, though, don’t be so hesitant to see the strides you make as personal victories to be proud of!


A modern-day Viking (although not one of the ones Steve and I met) owning it. Photo: Hans S (CC BY-ND)

And that’s my Expat PSA for the day.

Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

September 18, 2011

Mean Mr. Mushroom

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I have a confession to make. Even though last year’s mushroom picking adventure (my first time!) was awesome, just unbelievably fun and relaxing, it could have been better in one small way. We could have found more mushrooms.

Last year, we hunted in three different forests over a span of two and a half days, and while I had a great time learning about the different mushrooms and trying to find them, we really didn’t have that much to show for ourselves at the end of the day—just a little half-full bag of chanterelle and “brown soup” mushrooms, plus one giant Porcini (which is called a “Karl Johan” mushroom here).

Not that I’m complaining or anything, obviously, because we had such a great time. It was one of the highlights of my year, I swear. This time around, however, I really wanted a big haul, a huge sack of mushrooms so big it’s worth posting on Facebook and calling your mother six time zones away.

Now that's what I'm talking about. This year's haul of "forest gold," or chanterelle mushrooms. Photo: Kate Wiseman

I had already seen some status updates on Facebook bragging about mushroom hunting expeditions that had resulted in several kilos of freshly-picked chanterelles. It’s with some shame that I have to admit that I was not happy for them. I was jealous, jealous to the point of being resentful, jealous to the point of making several threats against them in my head. If there aren’t any mushrooms left by the time we get around to making our trip out to the woods, I’m going to…

It wasn’t pretty. I’m shocked and appalled by my own vileness when faced with a limited supply of some natural resource. That’s how important the mushroom picking is, though. (Or maybe it’s just me.) In any case, it was making me seriously worried that the evil Kate Wiseman would rear her ugly head and behave inappropriately in front of unsuspecting friends.

God bless Sweden, though, and the ridiculously rainy summer we had, because as it turns out, there’s no rain without a mushroom rainbow. Apparently Skåne had one of the rainiest summers of the last 50 years, with the corollary effect of a multitude of mushrooms in the forests. Phew.  (I am getting a little sick of the extreme weather, though. I would take a regular winter and a regular summer with great pleasure at this point. Stop testing my love, Sweden.)

So this past weekend, finally, my boyfriend and I and four other friends went mushroom picking in Österlen, the southeastern part of Skåne known for its rolling green hills, its apples, and its artists. The second we stepped out of the car, I knew we were in for a good time: the air smelled of forest and mushrooms. That night, the men made dinner for us and we all went to bed early, eager to get an early start on the mushroom picking the next day.

Of course that sounds really romantic, and it was a nice idea, but what really happened is that we woke up fairly early for a Saturday and then proceeded to have a two hour breakfast, followed by brewing a little extra coffee for a mid-mushroom hunting fika and packing up supplies for the dogs and then finally getting on our way around noon. Typical.

Lots of nature... not so many edible mushrooms. Photos: Kate Wiseman

The first half of the day was fairly unsuccessful. We saw a lot of mushrooms (and blackberries… yum!), but not many of the chanterelles we were looking for. Adam suggested that we take a strategic fika break and start again in a new section of the forest, which turned out to be a great idea.

Seriously, I love Swedish people. There's no such thing as a bad time for coffee. That's all I'm going to say. Coffee and cinnamon buns in the forest. Life is good. Photos: Kate Wiseman

An hour or so later, our designated mushroom bag was legitimately heavy. Score! Major happiness. At that point, we were all ready to head back to the cabin and relax from our extremely taxing day in nature.

Mushroom hunters! Photos: Kate Wiseman

This is the other really great part of mushroom hunting. Once you’re done, you’re in a cabin in the woods with your friends. It’s a lot like the atmosphere after a day of skiing. Everyone’s a little tired and smells funny, but everyone’s happy about the day and ready to hang out.

The smartphone addicts in the house played Wordfeud, a few tired souls took naps, and I continued with the book I’m reading, Broderna Lejonhjärta (The Brothers Lionheart) by Astrid Lindgren, and took advantage of the assembled Swedes by asking for translations every paragraph or so.

Then it was time for dinner, for chanterelles cooked in butter, for a giant bowl of chili, for wine and a long night of Trivial Pursuit from 1984. The outdated Trivial Pursuit made answering certain geography questions much easier… the USSR and Yugoslavia are so much easier to guess than the parts they’re broken into today! And yet, as always, it was generally impossible to answer the majority of the questions.

In the end, though, the best part of the weekend turned out to be something other than the mushrooms—it was the feelings of familiarity, of comfort, of “this is easy.” Those are the first things to go when you move to another country and everything is a little bit different, and those feelings have always been the first things I’ve noticed when I go home to my family in the States. Little by little, however, I’m feeling that way here.

Last year was new and fun and exciting, but this year is better in a different way. We’re building traditions, and I’m feeling more and more confident speaking Swedish. I’m even slowly but surely starting to understand jokes and cultural references. I don’t feel like I’m worrying about first impressions anymore or struggling to take part in conversations or just be myself. It’s taken a while to find that sense of comfort, and it feels good.

Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

September 15, 2011

September 11, 2011

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I had a blog post prepared for today, but in the end I switched it out.

I always listen to American public radio while doing the dishes. It’s one way of staying in touch with what’s happening in my country while living so far away. Over the past month, there have been a number of pieces commemorating the events of 9/11. Every time I hear one of these pieces, I cry. In part because I’m a human waterworks machine, and in part because the pain and the sorrow of the people who lived through that day is still so raw, immediate, and relatable.

I’m one of the lucky ones. I didn’t lose a family member or close friend. I was more than 700 miles away from Manhattan in East Grand Rapids, Michigan; 650 miles away from the Pentagon, 500 miles away from Shanksville, Pennsylvania. I was a freshman in high school,14 years old and sitting in my first hour Spanish class when my teacher turned on the television.

Since then, war. Since then, fear. Since then, a heightened awareness of the never-ending tangle of global politics and their effects.

I imagine that it has always been easy to both love and hate Americans; thanks to McDonalds and Hollywood movies, our popular culture is everywhere. So are agents of our government, whether or not they reveal themselves as such. That’s the way it is in our increasingly globalized world.

As an expat, you feel the hard edge of another nation’s perception of your country more sharply than you do when you’re home, surrounded by your own. I’ve lived abroad in three different countries now, and every time I’ve been called upon to answer for the actions of my country.

Having to defend the United States while out at a bar gets annoying after awhile, but I would never trade in my citizenship. I, too, am frustrated by my country at times. I, too, can see problems and areas for improvement. At different times, I have felt my Americanness both as a source of pride and of embarrassment. At the end of the day, though, it’s where I come from. It’s who I am.

It’s easy living in Sweden as an American, though. In general, people here have a positive view of Americans. I’ve never felt more welcome as a foreign national living abroad and have never been less suspected or accused of wrongdoing. Many Swedes have traveled and lived in the United States, and they go out of their way to make me feel comfortable by speaking English. Thank you, Sweden, for making me feel so welcome.

On this day of both mourning and remembrance, I am reminded how lucky I am to be alive, to be healthy, to live in a country where I feel safe and secure. How lucky it is that my family and friends are safe and healthy, and that even while I miss them, I don’t have to worry for their safety. How lucky I am to be in love and to have experienced so much love throughout my life.

Leaving aside all fears of being called cheesy, my wish for the next ten years is that we all do what we can as individuals, as communities, and as nations to change the world for the better. To do what we can to alleviate physical suffering, and to inspire hope and action where there has been fear and despair. To shift the balance at least a little towards love. To live the lives we wish all those who died ten years ago and in the aftermath of 9/11 could have lived.


Photo by jpellgen (CC BY-NC-ND)

Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

September 11, 2011

Adventures in Skåne: A Trip to the Viking Reserve

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Steve, my co-conspirator in many Swedish-themed adventures, has been talking about going to the Viking village outside of Malmö for months. Months, I tell you. We had never quite found the right time, though. Either our schedules didn’t work, or the park wasn’t open, or it was suddenly pouring rain… you get my drift.

Steve's affinity for the Vikings is long-standing. Photo: Steve Marr

On Tuesday, however, the stars finally aligned for our trip to Foteviken to visit the Viking Reserve. A train, a bus, and a walk through a construction site later, we were on location and ready for some outsized old timey experiences.

Here’s the first thing I didn’t realize about the Viking Reserve: When they say “Reserve,” they mean it in the “an area of land set aside for people to live in” way, which is to say that there are real Vikings that work and live their lives there. They build their own houses out of wood and clay, weave and sew their own clothes, and cobble their own shoes.

It said as much in my Lonely Planet guidebook, but I didn’t really believe it. I can barely stand the cold of winter, and I do my best to swaddle myself in wool clothes and modern conveniences. As Steve and I wandered around, we were on the hunt for evidence of people living among the chickens, intricately constructed fences, and ominous spider webs.

Viking carvings, Viking fences, Viking weather vanes, Viking ship-sized spiderwebs. Photos: Kate Wiseman

We walked through the village for awhile, speculating about the functions of the different things we saw lying around: plants that had been carefully arranged to dry, cooking instruments, different structures throughout the property. There were runes and carved figures everywhere, and we wondered if people knew the meanings behind them or if they were just reproductions of things that had been found in history books. And in the meantime, we found some props to play with.

Steve is the philosopher Viking. I am clearly just out of my mind. Photos: Kate Wiseman and Steve Marr

After wandering around the village for about an hour, we found our proof of people living in the village in the form of two Vikings, Jessica and Peter. They were both beyond awesome.

Real life Vikings. Photos: Kate Wiseman

Talking with them was by far the best part of our trip. They told us about the work they do at the Viking reserve—they’re part of a small group of paid employees—as well as what goes on at the reserve after hours.

People who live in the community are members of a Viking Association in Sweden, and while there is no entrance exam, joining a Viking community is tantamount to enrolling in an immersive program in Viking history, culture, and traditions. The members work together on projects to improve the community, and they have even built all their own houses. Everyone has their own specialty—Jessica’s is carpentry, and Peter’s is as a blacksmith—­but they end up exchanging their knowledge with each other.

At night, the Vikings come together to make food according to recipes from the time and spend time together. Some people do crafts, while others sing. Storytelling is a common source of entertainment. People come and people go, and the community is especially small during the winter months.

As the two kept talking, I couldn’t help but feel that we were having a discussion with people from another age. Even though some of the members of the Viking community at Fotoviken have day jobs and commitments in “the real world,” the world that more dedicated Vikings like Jessica and Peter live in is real: overlapping with our lives, and yet somehow separate. It’s hard to believe that people willingly choose to live on a windy bluff by the sea in Sweden, but they do, and you can hear the pleasure they take in having chosen a simple, deliberate, and yet undeniably labor-intensive lifestyle.

Although the buildings and exhibition at Foteviken were interesting, I left more impressed by the people and the spirit of the Viking Reserve than anything else. Before we went, I thought there was a strong chance that the experience would be totally kitschy, and I was both glad and surprised to be met with people who were more earnest than anything else. A little crazy, granted, but earnest in their craziness.

Viking beer! Photos: Kate Wiseman and Steve Marr

Imagine our happiness when we realized we could wrap up our successful day with a Foteviken Viking beer and a salmon pie! (Extreme happiness.) For future visitors, the beer was really sour (authentically so? who knows!) and probably not worth the money, but it had runes on the label, so it was still a satisfying purchase. Skål to the Vikings!

 

Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

September 9, 2011

Blackberry picking season

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After what has felt like just weeks of cold, rainy weather, the sun is finally shining again. Perfect timing! It’s way nicer to go blackberry picking in the sunshine than in the rain.

Blackberries? Yes, please! Photo: Kate Wiseman

One thing that blew my mind the first couple of times I came to visit Sweden was how closely linked urban and natural environments are. I don’t live in the biggest of cities, but for Sweden, it’s a pretty respectable size, and the university is one cause of massive residential sprawl. Regardless, I can pretty much guarantee that from any point within Lund, you are within five minutes walking distance of nature at all times. That’s pretty impressive.

Accordingly, Swedish people (in general) tend to have a much more meaningful relationship with nature than most of the Americans I grew up with—and it’s not just the older generation. People my age, in their twenties, have grown up picking berries, hunting mushrooms in the forest, and making cordial from flowers and leaves cut from bushes.  I’m sure there are people in the US who do this, but certainly not to the extent that I see it here.

I was pretty skeptical of this whole “walk around and pick stuff off the plants” thing when I first moved here, but a year in and I’m totally enchanted. I feel like I’ve spent the whole summer examining the trees and bushes in my neighborhood. Is this edible? Is this? Is this?

Two mystery berries and one wild chestnut. Photo: Kate Wiseman

The fascination could be a little dangerous, of course, but I’m not putting anything in my mouth unless I’m completely sure it’s safe. There are so many varieties of fruit and berries here that I’ve never seen before—and so many nuts that I would never recognize on the tree—that it seems like just about everything has the possibility of becoming food.

For the last couple of days, the warm weather has prompted some serious blackberry picking, some apple scouting, and a long, meandering walk through Lund’s two biggest parks. Fingers crossed that the weather is terrible all next week and then clears up just in time for the weekend—we’ve got mushroom hunting plans, and I want everyone else to be discouraged from walking through the forest until we get there want the rain to help the mushrooms grow… ahem…

Clear skies for now! Photo: Kate Wiseman

Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

September 4, 2011

Sipping Your Way Through Sweden: 6 Non-Alcoholic Drinks You Have to Try

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I know this might seem like a bizarre topic for a post, but I’ve realized that when I have friends visit me here, I tend to end up in a grocery store with them, where I take them by the elbow and steer them towards the cooler sections. “Try this!!” I demand, a half-crazed look in my eyes. “It will blow your miiiind!”

I don’t know what it is that makes these drinks so much better than their counterparts in the United States (that being my main frame of reference), but maybe it has to do with higher standards for food quality and a lower tolerance for artificial additives. Coca Cola, for example, is still flavored with sugar in Sweden, while the US version has been sweetened with High Fructose Corn Syrup since 1984.

In any case, these drinks might not stand out to you on a quick visit to Sweden unless someone recommended them to you, and it is well worth stopping by a supermarket or convenience store to try them.

In order of awesomeness, here are the non-alcoholic drinks you have to try when you’re in Sweden.

1. Brämhult’s Juices

Juice is good and all, but Brämhult’s juices are so good that they practically transcend the category. Never before have I opened a container of juice to have it taste exactly like the fruit it advertises, but fresher, thicker, and more flavorful. These juices are incredible. The raspberry (“hallon”) fruit drink is one of the best juices I’ve ever had in my life, and I don’t understand how Brämhult’s achieves that kind of freshness in a plastic bottle.

My favorites from Brämhult's! Raspberry, Blueberry-Black currant, and Orange-Strawberry. Photo: Bramhults.se

The picture above shows three flavors I like, but there are many more to choose from, including orange, blood orange, clementine, carrot, apple, grapefruit-orange, orange-raspberry, orange-mango, apple-raspberry, lemonade, and strawberry-lime. They also have smoothies, but I haven’t tried any of those yet… keeping it old-school.

2. Pucko Chocolate Milk

I don’t know if this is true all over the world, but the ready-made chocolate milk that you buy in the United States is strange tasting. It’s got this weird, powdery-dry aftertaste, almost like it was made with chocolate powder but wasn’t mixed well enough or the proportions were off. It’s not that good.

What to look for. The bottles on the left are the originals; the cartons on the right are low-lactose. Photo: Pucko.se

Pucko, on the other hand… Well, Pucko is like drinking a liquefied chocolate bar, but diluted with milk. “Why… is it… so good??” I ask myself, gasping for air after chugging an entire bottle. (Just kidding. I am far too ladylike to chug. I take delicate, mincing sips of everything I deign to lift to my lips.)

To put it simply, Pucko gives me faith that a secret herd of magical chocolate dairy cows is hidden somewhere in Sweden. I can only imagine the sugar-haze my childhood would have been if we had had such a tasty drink at our disposal. As a testament to its long-standing high standards of deliciousness, Pucko been around in Sweden for almost 60 years now, surviving numerous owner changes and buyouts. All this despite the fact that the word “Pucko” actually means “idiot” or “dummy” in Swedish. I mean, really. Who wouldn’t want a nice big glass of idiot?

Pucko! It'll make your kids cuter AND improve your tennis game. Photo: Pucko.se

3. Saft of any kind, but especially elderflower

Sweden, besides being the land of one thousand hair dressers, is also the land of one thousand berries you have never heard of. These berries are then turned into drinks and jams and ridiculously good fruit tarts, and you have no idea what it is that’s going into your mouth, but you’re ok with it.

“Saft” is one of the drinks that often result from a day out in the woods picking berries or flowers. In English, you can call it a concentrate or a cordial, depending on how where you’re from, and it is so, so good. You can read about my adventure making elderflower saft here, and you can find a boatload of elderflower saft-based drinks here.

My favorite is elderflower, which is, in my opinion, the most refreshing drink in the whole world to have on a warm summer afternoon. There are a lot of other flavors, though—black currant, red currant, pear, peach, cherry, rhubarb, raspberry, and strawberry, to name a few. Black currant is my second-favorite after elderflower.

WARNING: Do not try to drink saft out of the bottle! I repeat, do not drink saft out of the bottle. It has to be mixed with water—sparkling or still—or with the adult beverage of your choice.

4. Flavored Water

When I left the US almost two years ago, flavored waters had just started to become popular, but they always tasted a little chemical-y to me. It wasn’t lemon, it was lemon-oxide-bitterness. It wasn’t lime, it was limmonium-sour. Maybe they’ve improved over the past couple of years, but if not, the people responsible for mixing the flavors should hop on the next plane to Sweden.

So many Ramlösa flavors to choose from! From top left to bottom right: Original sparkling, pineapple, grapefruit-orange, citrus, pomegranate, strawberry-lime, mango, rhubarb, wild strawberries, black currant, watermelon, and still water. Photo: Ramlösa.se

A blonde Swede in a white coat will invite the hapless Americans into his laboratory and chuckle at their cluelessness. “Watch and observe, my little grasshopper,” he’ll say with only the slightest hint of an accent as he takes out his wand and starts chanting in a language that sounds nothing like the YouTube videos of the Swedish Chef that the Americans watched to prepare for the meeting…

Ok, ok, just kidding about that bit, but these flavored waters are seriously good, and they come in the best flavors ever. There are two top brands competing for the flavored water market, Ramlösa and Loka, and maybe it’s this rivalry that is responsible for the awesome taste combinations. My new favorite is Watermelon from Ramlosa, but rhubarb is really good too, and the Pineapple Smash and Coconut flavors remain to be tasted…

5. ProViva

ProViva is most like a fruit juice, although the consistency is somewhere between that of juice and a smoothie, and it’s called “Your Stomach’s Best Friend” (at least by ProViva marketing executives). Moreover, it was invented in Lund by Lund University Hospital researchers, which makes the people around here especially loyal to it.

Scientifically-enhanced fruit juice. Photo: ProViva.se

Apparently ProViva not only tastes good, but it also has some crazy mixture of special bacteria that promotes healthy digestion and calm unhappy stomachs. Like fruit juice, but even better for you! I don’t think this is being exported yet, but if and when they start, it will become a super health craze and earn a million gazillion Swedish crowns. You heard about it here first.

6. Real Coke

In my natural environment (the US), I am a die-hard Diet Coke fan. Oooh, the acrid aftertaste! Aaah, the bitter sweetness! Mmmm, the certainty that its artificial sweeteners will give me cancer!! Plus, regular Coke is sickly-sweet. Ick.

In Sweden, I am all for the real Coca-Cola, calories be damned. As I mentioned earlier, it’s made with real sugar, and it’s not too sweet. Diet Coke doesn’t exist here, and Coca-Cola Light is just disgusting. Seriously, people, what did you do to it?

Word to the wise about the Coke situation in Sweden—if you order it in a restaurant, you will get one bottle in a glass or one trip to the soda fountain and that is it. Free soda refills do not exist here.

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That’s it! If you have more Swedish drink suggestions, leave them in the comments!

Kate Reuterswärd - Expat

September 2, 2011