Whoopsies!

I forgot to tell you about Midsommar..... ahhhh - it can be next weeks post!
have to get a copy of the photos as i forgot my camera!

Month three ran away so quickly :(

well it's another week down, and apparantly the start of a new month....

I forgot to post my last LP story - seems strange not to have any pressure on me today to think of something to write about.

I have 2 1/2 weeks left of school, and only 3 weeks til holidays!! Wiiii.... cant wait (except for the fact that we are camping :( i dont mind for the festival, but seeing as were taking camping gear and all - hopefully i wont whinge and bitch too much?????

Not really much else to say, the Swede has gone off on a shopping trip with his Momma and I'm hanging out at home wishing i was at the beach - well maybe wishing i had the energy to go to the beach on my own... it's finally nice weather again (and if i can remember how to get to the beach, i just might go in an hour or so......)

anyhoo... hope all is well with everyone else.....

THE FINAL ONE!!!!

While sitting in a quiet spot of my favourite café, enjoying the bright sunlight streaming through the window, my tranquil moment was broken with the sound of whistling, singing and teenage laughter as a large group of beautifully tanned girls entered. I was intrigued by their white dresses and sailor like hats, to which my friend informed me were due to the girls had graduated from school today and were celebrating in true Swedish tradition. Tonight together with their peers, the girls would be driven through the town centre on float like vehicles and on to several parties which are equivalent in size to most weddings.

Hundreds of guests, endless amounts of food and presents would be shared while the students celebrate their new found freedom. To help me understand this tradition I was invited along to a “studenten” or student party. I arrived that evening to discover my friend had not exaggerated the size of this celebration.

Guests were joyously sipping on champagne and beer while toasting the sweet and slender blonde haired girl, who seemed to be appropriately called Anna. It seemed every person she had ever known was celebrating this occasion with her with gifts and flowers overflowing on the table behind her. As I watched the celebration unfold, I couldn’t help but to compare this with the simplicity of my experience of graduation, a simple class assembly and dinner with my fellow classmates.

With such emphasis placed on graduating, I wondered how this would affect the expectations placed on Anna and her friends in the coming years. I sought out our blonde hair guest of honour what she expected from the near future. Looking at me through her rather glassy yet still piercing blues eyes Anna was honest and direct in her manner as she told me of her plans to spend the summer travelling with a friend and would return in September to commence university, hopefully to study psychology.

There appeared no doubt in Anna’s mind that her choices would lead her to bigger and better things. I was surprised by the self assurance and self belief of someone so young and I couldn’t help but feeling a tinge of jealousy. When I finished school I distinctly remember the feeling of relief combined with the anxiety of not knowing how I should turn out. A feeling I have long held on to and something I feel has been the driving force of my rebellious streak long past the acceptable age of rebellion. I doubted that any form of rebellion existed in Anna, and from the strength of her personality I believe she will do most of the things in life she sets out to do.

I watched Anna rejoin her friends and family to much of the same laughing and shrieking that had disturbed me this morning. She appeared blissfully unaware that these next few years would be so difficult, although possibly some of her best she will ever experience. Finding our way in the world is never as simple as what we would hope it will be, and knowing which ones are the right choices is something I still haven’t mastered. Although maybe with such a display of support and encouragement Anna has a good head start on the rest of us who are still trying to find that comfort in our own skin.

My location may have changed but my moves they have not!!!!

Well I feel like i have suffered a weeklong hangover! Laura was here for a week and we had a great time - lots of cider, lots of chocolate and quite a few episodes of friends :D (it's on 3 times/day in Sweden.....)

We went out on Saturday night - and well you can all rest assure I have NOT changed and no, you CANT take me anywhere - I purchased a total of three pints of cider on Sat night - the first i drank, the second arrived as kilkenny (i know my swedish is bad, but cider/kilkenny??) and the third i dropped on the floor because it is possible that someone blew on my elbow - the jury is still out as to whether I can use that one as an excuse :P

Anywhoo... I will let my photos do the talking :D

What a wonderful suprise...

The weather is still glorious.. I'm a little tanned after another trip to the beach! Went to a housewarming on Saturday night for a girl who I met in Brisbane - Marie, a friend of Håkan's who was also a ric's girl! so that was kinda nice... would have been nicer still if i knew how to hold my licqour. Nothings changed there I guess... except my hangovers are ridiculous!

Had another holiday last week for Sweden's national day - see below :D
I am starting to love the amount of holidays the swede's have... Next up is midsommar - so you can guarantee a post on that one!! We are fortunate enough to be attending a traditional midsommar's ceremony - although we'll see how well I cope with the smell of pickled herring!

I was to have finished school tomorrow... but by the looks we will do the next part, or at least start - either another 2 or 4 weeks, which will be good - cause lord knows i could do with it!

Laura is comming tomorrow for a week - so the weather will sure to turn to crap! But fun we shall have anyway.... off to jazz in the park on wednesday night and a few other things!

Dont you love when you find photos that you cant remember taking!


Now for my third installment of my encounter column....

A SPLENDID COMMING OF AGE....

National day ceremonies generally allow us as travellers the opportunity to experience a small snapshot of a foreign country’s traditions, culture and history. June 6th saw the celebration of Sweden’s 3rd annual national day holiday, formally the national Flag Day. My expectations of the celebrations were lots of blonde haired children running around holding flags, women dressed in traditional white bonnets with long flowing yellow and blue embroidered dresses, picnics baskets overflowing with pickled herring and potatoes and glasses of schnapps to toast the meal.

You can imagine my surprise when I arrived at the botanical gardens in Lund to see hundreds of Swedes looking slightly bemused, very few children and only one lady in traditional dress. The food of the day was being purchased from the burger stand and washed down with a Carlsberg.

The average Swede seems very connected with their traditions and appears especially proud of their folk laws, and as anyone who has celebrated a Swedish midsommar can attest, they certainly know how to celebrate. Yet despite these facts, I couldn’t help wondering why in a crowd of hundreds there appeared to be only one woman who felt connected enough with the national day to proudly show it. I was drawn to the grey haired woman who looked to have aged gracefully for someone who most likely was at the end of her sixties.

She looked so perfect and tiny in her blue and yellow dress which signifies the strong history of her nation, and the fact that everyone else seemed a little confused by this holiday didn’t appear to perturb her at all. She walked around the gardens chatting with her husband, whom while also handsome, simply paled in her comparison. Together they continued, as she held his hand subtly leading the way, only pausing to glance at the brilliant coloured poppies and bougainvillea. They both appeared oblivious to the glances she drew from everyone they passed.

Her proud and almost regal walk seemed to manifest the very tradition we were here to celebrate. There are many possible reasons as to why this lady seemed to be the only one to revel in the festivities. Perhaps it could be that without the past rituals, legends and folk beliefs of yesteryear, that a modern and urbanised society is not capable of forging strong attachments to new traditions.

Yet there was a tell tale sign in her sparkling blue eyes that suggested that she was smirking on the inside at the hordes who were willing for a connection to this holiday. For her eyes seemed to indicate that perhaps it was not the national day she is emotionally akin to, but that she was the only one who viewed this holiday as a birthday party for a friend she respects and admires. A splendid coming of age for a trusted confidant who has throughout the years continued to provide her family with a home, a prosperous lifestyle and a culture rich in history and tradition. What I think drew us all to this woman was that she did not require new traditions to joyously celebrate the most important birthday in the Swedish calendar.

The Seaside the seaside!!!!

Well it's monday - so obviously I have just finished a new piece for lonely planet, which I will post at the end here.... but first I went to the beach!! Did I get in - no, but gotta say, Fo this is the perfect beach for Sambo. First of all, no waves.... second of all, you have to go out about 500m before the water gets past your knees!! I am not kidding. It was 27degrees yesterday, so YAY!!! I even have some colour...


and one for Sambo!!


and finally (my boyfriend the best photographer EVER - managed to take a photo at the perfect angle to make my legs look soooo thin) took a photo of me stripping off into my bikini's just to prove it can be hot in sweden!!


and for the lonely planet piece - remember www.myspace.com/lonelyplaneteurope

Who I am.....
If I subscribe to the theory that we create our own destiny, then I assume I must subscribe to the theory that it is who I am, as a person which influences my experiences, and not my experiences which determine who I become. But surely that can’t be right. If you look at me now, I am nothing like that girl who first left Australia many years ago.

Then, I was a 23yr old countrified tyke who packed 20kgs of belongings in with a plane ticket, some fresh faced freckles, a passport and the belief that $500 would last long enough for me to land on my feet. Of course, I did, but not before a stint of boarding with a deranged English woman who drank tenants super for breakfast and shared her bed with a man whose nail polish and sleeping bag were permanently parked at Earls Court Station.

Along with my equally naïve and countrified companion, we spent weeks padlocking our bedroom door from the inside, and hastily climbing out a window and over a rusting fence to prevent the theft of our belongings. After enduring many a drunken rampage and then finally the disappearance of my last £20, we packed up our belongings along with some mortification and new found awareness. We fled to a friend of a friend's spare room. It was here for a little less than the price of hostel bed, we could finally take solace in the fact that we weren't in any imminent danger. That is, provided we ignored the questionable bags of white powder hidden beneath the sink, the doorbell ringing at all hours of the night, and the absolute lack of hot water. That period lead to what I believe was a metamorphosis of character and soul.
Fast-forward 8 years and you will find me repacking, this time 50kgs of belongings together with an assumed sense of maturity and responsibility. Off I headed with my leather bags and the wafting scent of duty free Chanel… unfortunately it was mixed with the sent of looming failure. I moved to Sweden believing that as a well educated and intelligent English speaker I would again land on my feet despite having no knowledge of the language, or the job culture. I now spend my days exploring and taking photographs of beautiful architecture and wildflowers, whilst rivalling the domestic skills of a 1950s housewife. I also precariously read job advertisements in what could be either Russian or Swedish - because I am still not qualified to differentiate.
Hmmmmm. Sound familiar? Seems it was not such a metamorphosis of character after all. It would appear that I am just making new versions of my old mistakes. That it is essentially me, who influences my experiences. Regardless, I am thankful for the part of me that is still a clueless country girl, because without her, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t be hoping for the possibility of even more mistakes.