Roadtrip!

Last weekend we went on a roadtrip with the parents in law to a small town a little north of Stockholm to a beautiful location called Dalhalla to watch the Irish Dance Company perform a Riverdance inspired performance. Dalhalla is an extraordinary and simply breathtaking location. Who would have thought that one could turn an old lime stone quarry into an outdoor concert hall?

The size of the actual thing is eye popping such that they provide buses for people to take to the entrance after the performances! Walking through the gates, one is greeted by a deep dip and one had to walk literally one round around the concert location in order to reach the level of the stage which is located at the very bottom of the quarry.You can see a tiny path behind them which is the only way down and one has to walk down!Birds eye view of Dalhalla concert 'hall'. The small lake is actually behind the stage and acts like a fountain during intermission, sprouting up water almost 10 meters into the air reaching above the stage roof.
The concert location can hold up to 4500 people and is famous for the fantastic acoustics probably due to the high walls all around. They open the gates 2 hours before the performance where one can spend the time eating hotdogs or at the restaurant located just behind the seats. Since I couldn't eat the hotdogs or enjoyed the salads served (ugh...white food!) I spent the time looking down to the stage where the dancers were having last minute rehearsals. Cool!

The 2 principal dancers are pretty good looking with the female principal looking like Goldilocks and the male looking like Prince Harry albeit a better looking one. But the male principal looked so hot on stage, even mother in law agreed!
This violinist was the most impressive of the lot. I must say that the musicians and singers that the dance company has are all really good but especially so this violinist. During the show, she played the violin and the banjo but most impressive of all, she danced while she played the violin. And not just simple tapping but she danced as well as the others while playing a pretty complicated tune, definitely deserving the standing ovation she got. IMPRESSIVE!
A little photo moment during intermission. Doesn't the husband look so adorable in his dorky plastic glasses?
Every province in Sweden have their own traditional set of clothes and Dalarna is no different. During the intermission, the semi tipsy father in law managed to push his way in front of tourists to get us this photo together with the 'program ladies' (who sold the evening's program..duh!) in their traditional clothes. They kinda reminded of women in Nepal in their thick, colourful skirts.
It was a great show on a wonderfully warm night and until midsummer, a night that remains bright as day until at least 10pm. Screws with one's brain really.

Tribute To Someone Special. A Friend Now & Always.

14 years ago, on the 3rd day of January, I met someone that would stay close to my heart for the rest of my life. I didn't think it was anyone particularly special at the time but of course I didn't really know her. All I knew was that this really tall, chinese looking girl with the indian name was so nice that I hoped we would end up in the same class.

Cheryl K and I eventually became desk partners and more importantly, friends. Close friends for more than 14 years now and I had always wondered how we would all look like, her and the rest of our close knit gang of friends, when we were 35 and hopefully married with kids. And everytime I wondered that, I always told Cheryl that I could picture her as this super sophisticated, successful career woman doing something really smart. I didn't know exactly what she would be doing but I was 1000% certain it's something smart like rocket science or something.

To this she would do two things, tell me that technically 1000% doesn't exist cos the maximum is only 100% then laugh and shake her head at my ditziness. That is a typical Cheryl reaction, correction and then acceptance.

She had always been the person I turned to when I needed advice or just someone to hang out with. To this day, I still remember her house telephone number even though I no longer use it since the dawn of the mobile phone era.

Cheryl has always been my rock, my one consistent companion, my voice of reason and sometimes the comforting shoulder for me to cry on. I could always convince her to try out new things with me and so we had embarked on some strange adventures some of which failed, like fencing in uni. So many experiences we shared, so many stories to tell, all of which revealed just how good a friend she really had been to me and many others. We may have had periods of time when we lost touch but it was never for long and when we did get together again it was like no time had ever passed in between.

3 days ago, Cheryl K. passed away due to complications from an illness she had been battling for the past year or so.

The news is still slowly sinking in and it may take a while before the reality that I will never see or speak to one of my best friends in the world hits me. My very last memory of her was at my wedding, 6 months ago, where she took the responsibility of driving my in laws back and forth from their hotel. It is a wonderful last memory of her, smiling and happy, actually wearing a floral scarf instead of her usual bandanna just because it's a wedding.

Sick as she was, she never really let on how it felt physically or emotionally to me. I thought it was probably something she wants to keep private and I gave her the space I thought she needed. Maybe I gave her too much or I was simply too selfish and in deep denial that she was very ill. But the guilt one feels at not calling a friend enough, not giving her enough of you can be overwhelming. I didn't want to take away her energy by making her talk to me on the phone but now I wish I had spoken to her just once, even if it was for a little while.

I wish..I wish...I wish my friend was not gone. My friend who loved Thai Express as much as me and even shared the card membership with me. My friend who kept my feet firmly on the ground and whose wry sense of humour, sensibility and intelligence keeps me in awe of her. My friend who spent many many hours just hanging out doing nothing at my brother's flat and who helped me entertain my niece, Fifi.

My thoughts had always been with you, my friend, and it always will. I thank you for being my friend, for having been there for me all these years and for just being the way you are. I'm sorry I never got to say that thank you to you but I hope you understood anyway.

Farewell, my dear, and be at peace. You have no idea how much I will miss you.

Oh When the Saints Come Marching In....

The first of May, or Labour Day has just passed and like most things, the Swedes have long standing traditions about it. And like most things as well, the Swedes of cos have celebrations for it.

Husband told me that marches will be held by the working class people. They will be gathering in the streets of most cities or towns, march together and protest.

And of cos the most natural question to pop up is, protest against what?

Well, to protest against the bourgeoisie and upper class and how they are exploiting the working class people, says husband with a matter of fact look.

What are you talking about?, I ask in disbelief, What exploitation? Your whole country is a welfare state. And anyway, the ruling government now is the political party for the working people!

Yeah, says husband again with the blank, poker face, that's why the prime minister is probably gonna march too in the protest in Stockholm.

The conversation was starting to sound ridiculous when I realised that the entire march thing is a tradition. All that protesting and marching of the unions is a tradition.

I have come to learn and accept that Sweden is a country of tradition. It would not be Sweden without it's tradition. Of cos every other culture and country in the world have their own traditions but I have never seen tradition gripped so tightly as by the Swedes. Even if the practice no longer applies, no longer exists, no longer has a functioning role in society, the Swedes will still continue on with the tradition just because they have been doing it for so long.

Don't get me wrong, Sweden is certainly a modern country and even the farming community is not, generally speaking, backward or third world. The mind set of the people changes, as do the way of living but the physical manifestation of a long standing tradition never seems to disappear and that is something I find quite admirable in a time when nothing is held sacred anymore.

So there I was all pumped up with the idea that tiny Askersund is gonna hold its own protest march and images of American protest rallies, banners and flag burnings flood my mind. I was rocking and ready to be rolling when suddenly I hear music in the distance. I run to the window of my apartment to see where the music was coming from and there it was. The protest march.

The marching band of the town was leading the march, followed by 15 men bearing a flag each. I have no idea what the flags mean but I think they could represent some of the multitudes of unions in Sweden and right behind them, the protesting mob.

It was then I swear I could hear a fizzing sound. The sound of my pumped up ideas deflating for there were probably 20 or 30 protesters, mostly in their 50s and 60s. Some were in their 70s, like husband's grandma who waved at us, just rolling along with their canes, rolling canes or motorised wheelchairs.

And it was quiet. Very, very quiet. Thank goodness for the band or I might have thought it was a funeral procession. So this is their version of marching. Just as well, since they don't really have that much to protest about. Life in general is pretty good.

After the disappointing march, we headed down to the town square where the annual gathering of motorcycles occurs. This was a tradition that probably started more than 30 years ago and it just grew and grew until the motorbike entourage now numbers in the hundreds with some years going beyond 1000 motorbikes! The ENTIRE square is covered with motorbikes and leather clad men and women.

Unlike popular belief that it is the youngsters who dress up and do these kinda things, the majority of the bikers are in their late 40s and 50s and I even saw quite a number of bikers who like they're probably 60 to 70! And all were clad in cool leather suits, from collar to boots with the occasional bandanna.

The cool thing about this tradition is that it is still considered an unofficial event since there is no advertising for it, nobody organises it, it is essentially like a grooup of friends (a LOT of friends) just hanging out for a few hours before heading out together to the street to another event in a small town called Skyllberg. And for those who don't bike (like us), we stand by the road and watch excitedly as the bikers head out of town and it looks just like a dirt bike rally with fans waving at the side.

The majority of the bikers don't go to Skyllberg but rather go on ahead towards whichever destination they had planned which I find really strange. But this is Sweden so I just accept and keep most bewilderment to myself.

In Skyllberg, there is a big party in a small football field(Sweden style which means a lot of hotdogs, beer and a band or choir or both) with the biggest bonfire I have ever seen in my life. When we arrived there, there was a procession (again) made up of mostly parents and young children all bearing a small torch (of flame) and they all walk up to the bonfire and throw the torch in, thereby making the fire even bigger. I would say the bonfire had a diameter of at least 5 meters and it burned almost 10 meters up into the sky (I could be exaggerating but it was HUGE).

What is interesting about this party is that the entire event is an annual thing and is made possible by one man. Many would call him The Man, Big Boss or even The Godfather (though not in a non mafia kinda way). His name is Gustav and he is the owner of the nail factory that is basically the pulse of the entire town. Most of the town residents work in the factory and Gustav also owns the water and electricity company that supplies the town. Talk about owning a town!

Gustav finances the entire event and the band that plays during the party is essentially his band. It exists only because he wants it to exist. He built the stadium that the party is held in and he determines who performs during the event which explains why it's always the Skyllberg marching band and Askersund's male choir that performs every year.

And the bonfire flares up and warms everyone for a ten meter radius and unlike in Singapore where it should be put out after the party, the bonfire is left to burn out and now, almost a week after Labour Day, it is still smoking. Even though the past few days had been raining, that damn bonfire is still smoking.

Amazing.

Lonely Cat Seeking Tom

I can't believe it's been almost month since my last entry. Lots of things, both good and bad have happened since April but life is generally still good.

Sussie the cat has made A LOT of progress with us during those weeks and I am so pleased to say that she now not only lets us pet her but she sleeps with us on the bed too sometimes. As husband says, she's gotten used to us and she's starting to like us. Sussie really likes hanging out on the bed and calling out to us so that we'd join her and pet her so I say he's absolutely right. But sometimes, when we don't come to her or we don't show her the attention she wants, this little kitty of ours sulks.

That's right, she SULKS! She will actually walk off to the foot of the bed (if we're on the bed together) and turn to face the wall. Ha ha! I'm serious! I thought it must be a fluke when I first noticed but she does it all the time when she doesn't get what she wants! Sometimes if I'm in the kitchen and she calls out to me from the bed but I don't come despite repeated meowing, I'll find her on the bed with her back to the kitchen door ie. me (the way the apartment is constructed, one can see the bedroom and bed directly from the kitchen)

Just think that barely 4 weeks ago I was starting to wonder íf she will ever get used to us and get comfortable in her new home. But comfortable she has been and curious she is. She loves to sit by the windows and look out at the birds (the seagulls are going crazy this time of year.). Some nights, we've found her lying on the high kitchen table (it's bar stools as chairs high) or climbing the tv cabinets and of cos it wouldn't be complete without her vain attempts at reading as we find piles of books taken out of their place in the bookshelf and onto the floor.

And I must say, our kitty Sussie is a rather polite little cat. As much as she likes getting on the bed, if either me or Mathias is already on the bed, she will meow at us and wait till we say it's ok to come up before she makes the leap. And once we have made the commitment to sit in bed with her and pet her, we are not allowed to leave the bed until she is satisfactorily petted. There have been times when we leave the bed to get the remote, a book or a glass of water and the moment she realises that we're leaving, she'd swipe at us and hold on with her claws cos she doesn't want us to go. So that's when a little discipline has to come in but I also go 'Awww' cos I know she only does that cos she doesn't want us to go.

Aawwwww....

But the past few days have been a little strange. Sussie, like most cats, is a nocturnal animal and goes wild in the wee hours of the night. We've gotten used to hearing her race across the parquet floor, the tinkling of her toy ball as she plays with it and even the occasional bump as she falls from wherever high spot she had been exploring. But recently, something else has been added to those nightly rituals, something more disturbing to us, especially husband dear who is a light sleeper. Something that wakes even me, the woman who sleeps like the dead.

Sussie has been meowing, crying and even screeching a little at night, all night, with the occasional intermission between screeches. And not only that, she seems to like coming into our bedroom to do that. She'd be by the doorway and meow and cry out at us until we call her up to bed in which she happily jumps up and starts nuzzling one of us (usually me cos husband can't be bothered). And it is only during this time of petting and nuzzling that she is perfectly quiet and content. But of cos seeing that this happens at 3 or 4am, I start dozing off a little as the hypnotic motion of petting Sussie sets in and I slowly stop petting her. When she realises that she's not getting anymore petting, she jumps off the bed and is quiet for maybe another 10 minutes before it starts all over again. Husband has resorted to shushing her (I've never heard anyone shush a cat before) but surprisingly it works! Not for very long but for 5 min after being shushed, Sussie remains calm and quiet.

So that was how it began 3 nights ago and we wondered if maybe she was just getting more affectionate with us. But then she started doing it during the daytime as well and sometimes would meow so loud we couldn't hear the tv. But then yesterday it hit me!

We had gone back to the cat shelter last weekend to pass them some new pictures of Sussie by the window and to update them on her progress. We found out that Sussie's sister, Alana, still wasn't adopted out yet cos she's still so anti social and afraid of everything. But we also found out that she had been sterilised just a few days before cos she started to get in heat and was getting into fights with other cats so they had to do an emergency sterilisation on her even though she isn't 1 year yet.

Sussie IS IN HEAT!!

Oh my! All that screeching, meowing and how she loves it when we rub and pet her by her back legs next to the tail now made sense! The people at the shelter told us that once she gets in heat, to send her to the vet ASAP cos female cats are not the most pleasant creatures to be around when they're in heat. No wonder Sussie is so restless nowadays and craves company and attention.

Yesterday was Labour Day so we could only make the call to the vet today. In order to get a decent night's sleep, we took the drastic step of shutting all the doors leading into our bedroom. I felt sorry for Sussie but it was in the best interest of all. Especially husband's sanity. All that shushing in the middle of the night can really drive one crazy. Ha ha! Of cos the cat didn't understand why we shut her out and we heard her meowing like crazy at first and even scratching at the door but surprise surprise! she calmed down after a while and meowed less than previous nights.

So all this time, our poor Sussie was just lonely and in heat.