I finally started school yesterday. It was a very exciting morning, in that I'm so nervous I may puke in the bus kinda way. Husband had kindly taken the day off so he can take the bus with me to school and wait for me until I finished. Kept telling him as he made my breakfast that I didn't want to go to school. You know that whiney voice, complaining about nothing since nothing has happened yet.

Well, that was my voice yesterday morning. Was having that sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach and all the worst possible scenarios kept replaying i my sick little head. Husband kept comforting me saying, it never is as bad as you think it will be.

So there I was in a dark bus (it was a coach bus cos we accidentally took the express bus, so like most coaches on a long haul journey, all the lights are out), looking out at the gorgeous countryside passing me by as the rising sun slowly turns the sky pink then orange. That took some of the edge off me plus the fact that I was still really sleepy.

My class is very small with only 8 students including me. There is a German lady and 6 Iraqis, among whom there is just one guy. Some of the ladies can't speak English or much Swedish so there is ALWAYS a bunch of Arab flying across the room. The teacher is a man called Leif with a deep, quiet and rather soothing voice. I can tell just how patient he is and I certainly can see instances of when that patience serves him well. So he seems nice.

And with a lot of Swedish people who don't know me, the teacher was surprised to find out that I was Singaporean and not Thai. And we speak English in Singapore and technically there is no Singapore language. But I did learn a lot in my 2 days of Swedish classes. I also learnt that there are 4 levels in total before I graduate from this course of study. There is no specific length of time for each level. The teacher will just send you to the next level at his discretion and in general, he said that students take about 525 hours of classes to complete the entire 4 levels. But of cos some students can take up to 1000 hours or some as low as 350 hours. And since I am not a refugee, I only need to attend school Monday to Thursday, which is great for me.

Ok, so now I formulate a plan for myself. I want to do well enough in this class to move up to the next level in about 1.5 to 2 months. But since I don't really know what it takes to move on to the next level, all I can do is learn all I can from Leif and make sure I practice speakin Swedish, especially in class. I keep forgetting to do that! Ugh...I can kick myself sometimes.

Heh heh...is that me being too hard on myself again? That's what Mathias always says about me. Well, I just really want to be able to understand what people around me say. It's frustrating not to understand or be understood.

It was the husband's birthday a few days ago and he had insisted that he not have a birthday cake.

What?? No birthday cake??! What kind of sick wife would let her husband of barely 3 months (still honeymoon period apparently) go without a birthday cake on his birthday?

So as I had promised in the last post, here are pictures of the cake I baked.

Here is a picture of the DELICIOUS butter cake I baked before I frosted it. Gorgeous, isn't it?

Well, I didn't do anything fancy with the frosting. Just made a nice chocolate frosting without any further decorations. It was already a lot of work to frost the thing and anyway, it tasted great! No need for anything fancy shmancy.

But I had over estimated the recipe and ended up with 2 cakes. Alamak! I cannot eat 2 cakes...that would just be bad news. So I cut the cake up and gave some to the neighbour. She was actually shocked to see me at her doorstep and even more so when I held up the large slice of chocolate frosted butter cake. First thing that came out of her mouth was...'Varför? (it means why)'. Heh heh.. And I thought caucasians are a friendlier and generous lot. Well, they are but apparently the giving of cakes and such to neighbours are pretty rare. Ok...so I'm different and can hardly speak Swedish but I managed explain myself in badly broken Swenglish.

As much work as it was, I actally enjoyed myself a lot through the baking process. Even the frosting that had frustrated and infuriated me in my teenage days, made me smile and hum in pleasant solitude as I glided the creamy frosting across my beautiful golden brown cake. And my kitchen smelled WONDERFUL!

So of cos that gave me inspiration to bake cinnamon rolls (something very popular here in Sweden) later in the week. They turned out just as gorgeous and they tasted GREAT!!! I can't believe that they tasted so good and they were so simple to make. Huh...all those years of fearing baking breads and buns. No more fear!! Just inspiration...

Such fluffy, soft cinnamon flavoured rols that I had created with my own hands. I'm so proud of me. And I think husband is too. Plus he gets to enjoy his favourite teatime snack freshly baked. Who wouldn't like, right?

And to top off our snack week, the husband took me to a chocolate factory yesterday. That was interesting just to see the building. Even though there's a chcolate factory right in our own tiny town, he decided to drive almost 1 hour away to the factory that produces one of the Sweden's favourite chocolate brand, Cloetta.

Unfortunately I didn't go on any sort of tour around the factory whic I would have loved to see but we did go to the factory store that sold all of its products...we were like 2 kids in a candy store..literally. Especially Mathias. He loves his chocolates.

So of cos we left with a big bag of goodies. Thank goodness we're having a birthday party tomorrow, so at least there's some form of distribution in the chocolate consumption, regardless of what husband says.

Today is Mathias' birthday and unfortunately he has to work. He had been so tired last night that he had gone to sleep by 8pm but for some strange (but lovely) reason, he work up 3 hours later and stayed up to welcome his birthday at midnight. I guess we both realise that this is special for us cos we have never celebrated each others' birthdays together before. We have always been in 2 different parts of the world so it held great significance to us.

5 min to midnight, I snuck away to the kitchen to make up something cos silly me didn't think to prepare a birthday cake. We didn't even have birthday candles. Silly me...

So I took one of the vanilla cupcakes I had made on Saturday, plopped a round scoop of vanilla ice-cream and spritzed whipped cream on top. I then drew an outline of a star with chocolate sauce around the little vanilla tower of sin I had made. Too bad I didn't manage to take pictures of it cos it was pretty. But husband liked it so much that he quickly ate it up. Simple yet he appreciated the gesture so much. So sweet.

Imagine our surprise as we were eating that little cake, I switched the TV on Mtv and a minute later, they started playing that JayZ song, Birthday (or is it 50 cent?? I can't remember). Mathias was so surprised and I started singing along. How appropriate!! And right after that song, they played 'Pretty Fly' which was just as appropriate seeing how nerdy and silly the husband can be. Ha ha! Just kidding...*wink*

For lunch today, he got to decide and he wanted to eat garlic prawns with rice. I had never made that before but I found the recipe and made 2 dishes for his birthday lunch. Stir fried garlic prawns and Spicy Chicken with cashew nuts (but without the cashew nuts). It turned out FANTASTIC! Especially the chicken dish. The prawn dish could have used more garlic and a little less vinegar but all in all, it was SUPERB for a first try. No pictures again cos it was so good that we couldn't wait. Ha ha!!

And who can have a birthday without a birthday cake right? Baked my first full sized round butter cake with chocolate frosting. I still remember the last time I tried to make frosting. I was in secondary school I think, and for some strange and crazy reason, I decided to make it blue. Let's just say, I've regretted some of the things I've done in my life and that blue frosting is one of them. Horrible colour and horribler taste! But this time, the cake turned out great and the frosting was fun to do. Even though it took a little more work, I had fun baking the cake and making the frosting and actually frosting the cake which is a lot harder than it looks. But the cake is full sized and seeing that there's just the 2 of us at home, I decided to send the cake to his workplace. Today it is an all boys' working day seeing that the only lady who works there has her day off today. So I think the cake might be enjoyed a lot more there. Will post the pics soon.

Praisie says I'm such a homebody now and in most ways, she's absolutely right. But I really enjoy cooking so much. My talent for cleaning has not improved an iota, I tend to forget to do laundry until the basket is over spilling with dirty clothes and don't even talk about the toilet with me (I've decreed cleaning that to be husband's job) but damn if my food isn't good. My kitchen is usually spotless and the cupboards brimming with things I've baked.

If only my friends and family could be here to enjoy the baked goodies too. I miss being surrounded by the people I love. But at least I'm next to the one I love the most. So I guess that's a great consolation.

Since moving to this small town of Askersund in the middle of Sweden, I've been able to indulge in my interest and some may call passion, much to the husband's enjoyment.

Since my school days, I've always enjoyed cooking. My gang of school friends have always been subjected to the cooking whims and experiments of me and my dear friend, Sar. It's always a matter of meeting up either at my house or Sar's house one afternoon where we will have a little hang out 'party' in which we try out new recipes or just repeat old successes. I've always thought that Sar was the more taented and 'brave' one, willing and usually very successful in whipping up greatness in a plate. My gang love the food we make and to be honest, I LOVE and MISS all those parties we had where we would cook, watch TV and just hang out. And during our Uni years, to also help babysit my niece, Sofia, which they seemed not to mind too much.

But now I turn to the husband as my guinea pig and enjoy it he has. Some of the experiments of cos turn out bad sometimes, especially when I am unfamiliar with a particular ingredient and am unable to gauge properly the impact it would have on the overall taste of the dish. Or how some dishes may or may not be compatible with others.

Sometimes I manage to take pictures of my creations but mostly, they're just captured by the strange and sometimes faulty camera I have in my mind.


I made chocolate muffins for the Christmas party that the Sjöberg clan has every year. These muffins are a little different in that I place a Lindt chocolate ball in the midde of every muffin before I put them to bake so that when you bite into it, gooey chocolate will ooze out. Mmmm--yummy! I then topped it with some vanilla cream just cos it tastes so good. Since I had no clue of what a traditional Christmas celebration in Sweden is like, that is my safest and thankfully only contribution to the festivities.

Since then, I have increased my portfolio of successful baking creations:-

These are gingerbread cupcakes that I made after husband dearest kept whining about how much he loves gingerbread cookies and how good gingerbread cakes taste. So I took the midway road and made these.
He LOVES these...


This is not exactly what I would call a baking success. What is it exactly, you ask? Well, it's supposed to be chocolate dipped shortbread oatmeal heart cookies. The hearts were tough to cut out and they shapes tended to expand and misshapen in the oven so it ends up not looking like hearts at all. If you thought this cookie looks bad, you should have seen the cookies cut out in the shape of a man...or rather the crooked woman that it turned out to be. Still tasted good though.

This is my virgin bread bake and it turned out surprisingly FANTASTIC!! I made these cos the husband likes sandwiches as do I. And unlike most bread recipes I've seen, these were relatively easy to make. They turned out beautiful and golden brown, with a slightly sweet taste to it. I call them simply my Tasty Buns. But next time, I might reduce the sugar content just a tad so that it would taste more of a sandwich bun rather than a sweet roll.






Yesterday, husband had a sudden craving to make a Swedish treat that we call Chocolate Balls. To me, they are nothing but candy but he is quick to disagree. Anyway, he started on this on his own so technically this is his cooking success although it is actually a no bake ball. That is why it is a successful bakeless ball. The white stuff on the ball is actually coconut flakes. But he did make some with pearl sugar cos I don't like coconut much.

It is Friday today and we had decided that Fridays are special. We do something special and I generally try to make something special for dinner too. Instead of the usual chicken ham sandwich in between tiny pieces of bread or the traditional Swedish hard ass bread that seems to me to be more like crackers than bread, I try out a new recipe or make a favourite dish of hubby's.

So today I was confused. I knew I wanted to make something with chicken but what??! Since I was chatting online with dear friends Cheryl and Francine, they helped me to decide on a nice glamed up sandwich. So I baked some chicken pieces with Dijon Mustard marinade and whipped together Honey Mustard dressing for the sandwich.

Husband got very excited by my Subway inspired sandwich and we got baguettes and cheddar cheese, shredded the chicken and popped it into the oven so the cheese could melt on the bread and the chicken would sink into the melting cheese. YUM! Topped it off with lettuce and it was a great Friday night meal as we watched the Swedish version of Dancing with the Stars.

How cosy.

It's official now. I'm going to start school in almost 2 weeks. The first Monday of February will be the day I step into a whole environment and start on a daily routine that will hopefully take me out of this whole mentality that I am still on holiday.

Time for real life to start.

As husband had said, this would probably make the whole marriage thing feel more real and feel less like a honeymoon. Which gives me mixed feelings. I want to be free of this honeymoon period bcos it does not feel real. It feels too much like a fairytale. But I also don't want it to end cos you only get a honeymoon period feeling once in your marriage. At least most people do.

My best friend told me that her honeymoon period felt pretty much over after about 3 months cos of work commitments, school commitments and just the daily grind of life. I think that's how it is in life. The big wedding, the wonderful honeymoon in some exotic location and the glow of happiness from spending the first few weeks living together as husband and wife. Then slowly and without warning, both the man and woman go back to work and start on the daily grind and that glow seems to dull just a little. Level of dullness seems to depend on how hard you are willing and able to work on the relationship.

I was watching an episode of Oprah the other day and there was a couple being featured and how their relationship had evolved from the efforts made to keep the intimacy and the glow hot and bright. The wife realised one day that they had drifted apart and their sex life had deteriorated a lot. With 2 small children always seeking attention and full time jobs, there was just very little time to spend on each other. But she decided one day to stop all that and make an effort. And an effort she did make.

Candles, hot baths, hot oils, massages and soft music. It was the works. And she did that bcos she wanted to and not to please her husband. She wanted to seduce her husband and have him make love to her. Not just that night...but almost every night since. It had been 3 years since she started her conscious effort and she's gone on to taking belly dance classes, strip tease dance classes and massage courses. All in the name of a better relationship, a better marriage and be better parents.

How it lead to be better parents? Well, she said that the increased intimacy they enjoyed naturally made them more affectionate with each other in front of their children. And when the children sees Mommy and Daddy happy, they naturally become happy kids.

Sounds kinda logical.

A good thing we don't need to do that just yet. I need to start school first. How exciting!!

To my good friend , Francine, congrats on your news grl!! I'm not gonna say what news it is because it is her news to tell. And no, it does not include anything coming out of anywhere in 9 months or so. I can't wait to see you in June! Hopefully everything pans out for you!

It's pretty much over. As quickly as it had descended its plague upon me, the pneumonia seems to have dissipated, leaving me relieved, confused and still pretty phlegmy.

It happened on Friday, I think. I felt as terrible as usual that morning and was still feeling tired and drawn come lunchtime when Mathias came home. But for some unexplainable reason, the fatigue, the gassiness and the dizziness quietly disappeared in the afternoon, and by the time Mathias got home from work, I was ready to jump him.

And it has stayed that way.

Of cos I still get tired more easily than if I was healthy but nothing close to the misery I had been feeling the last week. I don't get the pains that plagued me and left me bed bound and uncomfortable.

So I am extremely pleased. So pleased in fact, that I decided to bake bread for the first time. I always thought that baking bread can be tough. So many factors to consider...yeast, resting time, draft free zones, kneading, rolling, bun or loaf, size matters even baking time.

But I did it...I had very successfully baked buns to eat on Friday. The husband had freshly baked bread to eat for his dinner. Ooh...it suddenly feels like one of those children's tales of farmers and fresh buns. The buns came out golden and soft and it tasted a little sweet like those butter rolls. So next time I will reduce the sugar but for my virgin bread bake, it came out BEAUTIFUL!

I'm so proud of myself. Buns today..a whole loaf tomorrow and BEYOND!

I read recently about a new fashion statement that is apparently gathering steam among many Swedish handimen. When I think of a man who works with his hands for a living, be it plumber, carpenter, builder..I think (in my glamed up, highly romantic mind) of dark skin, rippling muscles, strong and rough hands, jeans or overalls and a hard hat or two. But recently, a company has designed a functional, sturdy yet (apparently) trendy kilt for the men to wear on the job.

Yes, people, a kilt. What the average non-Scot would call a SKIRT. The MAN SKIRT. It is reported that the Swedish company had produced such outfits initially as an experiment and it has paid off. Read the report..you can actually see what the man skirt looks like.

Seems to me that EXTREMELY confident men are abound in Sweden. Extremely confident men in need of cooling work wear.

I get dizzy spells, nausea, headaches and feel as bloated as a blowfish having an anxiety attack. I have diarrhoea and I burp every 5 minutes cos I'm so full of gas. I'm just glad that the gas escapes up the front and not the back. That's the husband's job.

So much for little miracles.

I think the new, stronger antibiotics that the doctor has put me on is wrecking havoc on my body. I do have more energy now and I'm not like the rag doll I was, just lying in bed and no strength to even lift my head much. My cough has subsided substantially and the phlegm attacks are fewer and far between. But the first time I took that new medicine, Mathias read the information paper in the box.

Possible side effects? Diarrhoea and sensitivity to sunlight. And under no circumstance except strict orders by the doctor should I take this medicine when pregnant. And if taken without food, it WILL cause nausea. Apparently with me, it doesn't matter cos it causes nausea anyway. Ugh..hai, well at least it didn't list anxiety, brain damage or death like some of the medication I had taken over the years of my colourful life.

I am a generally warm person, and a fever for me would mean a temperature of above 37.7 degrees celsius. Husband finally got us a thermometer on Saturday and so we tested it out. His temperature read normal at about 36.7 degrees C. According to him, that is his normal body temperature. Ok, so I accept that. Everyone has a different regulating body temp. I wasn't feeling great at the time and we thought I might have a fever, but imagine our surprise when my temperature read a dismal 35.5 degrees C.

What?! Wait...that can't be right. So we tested it again and it read a 'much' higher 35.7 degrees. This is so strange. I don't have a fever but what do you call a 2 degree drop in temperature? Mathias thinks that maybe it's due to the cold weather so the body temp also drops. Perhaps...but by 2 degrees?

That's very strange to me. But then again, this whole pneumonia episode has given me symptoms that are things I do suffer from time to time...but never all together at the same time. That is just my body being cruel to me. And it freaks me out.

But at least I'm not bedbound all the time now. Thank goodness for small miracles.

Do you know what is one of the worst things to hear from your parents? The kind of thing that will make you cringe so hard you think you can never open your eyes again?

Bedroom secrets.

That's right...things that your mummy and daddy used to do (or worse, still doing..) in the bedroom behind closed doors. Things that should FOREVER remain behind closed doors. There should never be an open door policy for such things. NEVER!

Sure, you can discuss the birds and the bees with your children. Sometimes it's needed and sometimes it's just morbid humour but it is ok, in my opinion.

But for the sake of the child's psychological future, please never NEVER use specifics. You know, like mentioning the male population and their genetilia in a general fashion rather than mentioning daddy's winky (worse if you point out the man as he passes by). Or like dad trying to say men like to look at women's breasts by saying mummy's t**ts look great, don't they? UGH!

Why this rant and rave about parents and their choice of discussion topic?

Obviously because I have had the unfortunate luck of slamming into THAT topic with MY mum when I least expected it. With me being married, I have come to realise that my mum feels it a tad easier to talk about such things with me (whoopee-doo! someone bring out the confetti..). And such occassions, though still rare (thank God!) remain a bane to my existence simply because as much as I love my mother, we do not share such a bond that allows for such topical discussion! Such bonds are sacred and seem to exist mostly between me and girlfriends. Never family. NEVER mother! Most definitely not MY mother.

But today, I called home just to say hi and check how things are. And I told my mum that I'm sick and she gets all worried and tells my dad..blah..blah..blah...so far so good. And then silly me decides to tell her MORE of my suffering here and I mention that I get bad backaches now.

Why? WHY??! Why the heck did I ever mention backaches to her? How can something so simple suddenly turn into something so...so wrong?

She asks, Backaches? Oh dear, you know when we next see you I really should get your dad to teach Mathias this trick.
(So far, I'm still thinking innocent thoughts and wondering, ooh..what magical trick is this that will help with my backache? Some home remedy?)
So I ask, What trick?
Mum: Well, this was something your dad and I used to do in the bedroom. (Uh oh, I think) When you and Mathias are done being together (ah, such old school euphemism), tell him to use the heel of his foot and place it on your below.
(By this time, my mind comes to a schreeching halt. WHAT??! Wait..did I hear correctly?)
Me: Wait...what? Uh..what? Could you repeat that? (Why the heck did I say that?!)
Mum: (impatient sigh) Tell Mathias to use the heel of his foot..
Me:What? His heel? Not mine? Are you sure this is for my backache?
Mum: Yes, yes! It works. It relieved my backache. (Oh God...) So tell him to use his heel and push it down into your below..
Me: What? Ugh...my below??
Mum: Yes, of cos your below..you know, your flower.
(Oh god, my ears are ringing, I swear I'm seeing stars and it's not from the medication. So I decide to just let her ramble on and have this episodic mental torture pass me by)
Mum: It does wonders for your back. You really should try it. It's good for your flower too.
Me: Gee...thanks Mum. We..We'll see...

This brings me back to the beginning of this nightmarish conversation when she said that she'll get my dad to teach Mathias. I'm not sure he will actually do it. For the sake of our mental health and marriage, I sure hope not.

But I am glad that husband is right of mind enough to laugh, in that creeped out, I can't believe what I'm hearing way, and say that will never happen. Both the act and hopefully the lesson from father in law.

I feel worse today.

I was coughing til I threw up last night and the smell of Axe oil that Mathias used on his tummy before bed made me feel so nauseous I had to lie on the sofa to get away from him. The poor guy was so miserable cos he thought he made me feel miserable that he was running around trying to wash his tummy clean. When he got it clean, he put some moisturiser that I used cos he thought I would like the smell but it just made me even more nauseous.

Poor guy. He looked like he was ready to cry.

Felt really out of it this morning and I kept drifting in and out of sleep during the morning after husband left for work. sometimes it felt like my chest was really heavy and I found it difficult to breathe. Mathias told me to lie down on propped up pillows so it would be lighter on my chest and lungs.

I couldn't make lunch, wash the dirty dishes or do laundry. All I could do was lie in bed and managed to shower with some dofficulty. It is a cold day for me and husband said that I had a fever when he came home at lunchtime. Could hardly eat lunch and ended up munching on toast.

I feel sick...really sick. UGH....

I have been in denial for a few weeks now. Deep deep denial.

Despite the deep throated coughs that seem to originate from somewhere in the pits of my lungs, the unexplainable fatigue that makes me sleep all day or lie in bed watching bad TV, the nasty nasty gooey yellow stuff that gets forced out by my gut wrenching, body shaking coughs and the excruciating headaches that leaves me napping for 3 hours while I had my in laws out in the living room, I still refused to accept the fat that I am sick.

Mathias tried as hard as he could to convince me in both English and Swedish, but Dian being Dian, I just didn't want to go see a doctor. Until last night that seemed to freak husband enough to actual act on his own and call the doctor today to schedule an appointment. According to Mathias, my breathing sounded really bad, I had been tired all day and my body ached enough to make me take my headache pills that also act as a tranquilizer just so that I could sleep through the night.

So today, I went for my very first doctor's visit. Mathias called me in the morning to tell me that he had arranged for a doctor's appointment today at 2pm. With resignation I agreed to go with him cos I was still in denial and thinking that it will go away on its own.

The doctor's office is just down the street from our block and it is actually part of someone's house (the doctor's I presumed). The only thing that distinguished that place as a clinic was a small sign by the window. So we entered into a small room that had coathangers and chairs that we presumed to be the waiting room.

There were 2 doors of which one was the toilet. Mathias very tentatively knocked and opened the unlabelled door to peek in. He quickly shut the door again and said it was a kitchen. Next to that door were stairs leading up with 2 doors at the top. Husband didn't want to go up but at my insistence, he ran up halfway and announced that there was nobody up there cos the lights are out.

Hmph, I laughed to myself, scaredy cat.

His solution was to just take a seat and wait cos the doctor knows we are coming at 2pm. This baffled me. Shouldn't we at least let the doctor know that we are here so he knows to attend to us when he is available? Where IS the doctor? Does he have a nurse? Don't I register myself somewhere??

I know this is Sweden and a different country means different procedures, but it's ridiculous to just come into an empty room, sit down, wait and hopefully someone will eventually come to attend to us. So Mathias finally decides to knock on that kitchen door once again and this time, a rather elderly man opens the door and identifies himself as the doctor. Ah...finally!

So we walk through a small kitchen and into his tiny doctor's office in the back. It almost looks like a blast from the past for me. Behind his small desk, books covered the wall ceiling to floor and he had a typewriter on his desk amongst other paraphernalia. I would call his office/museum very quaint and it didn't matter to me cos he is still a doctor. In the middle of the room was a bed where he checks his patients and another bookshelf filled to the brim with hand written patient files. How very traditional looking, I would say.

The doctor was a very nice man who tried to make me feel comfortable and whatever he couldn't explain to me in English, he would turn to the husband for translation. But the doctor did get concerned when he learned that I had had my cough for weeks and it is getting increasingly worse. He told us that it was very good that we came in when we did cos I was very very close to contracting pneumonia. And that had been Mathias' concern too as pneumonia can leave on bed ridden for weeks. and neither one of us wants that.

Right now, I had some infection and inflammation in the bronchitis and lungs (is that the same thing?) and I need to take some antibiotics and some phlegm dissolving tablets. But he is apparently concerned enough to insist that we call him back in 3 days to update him on my conditon, whetehr good or bad. If the antibiotics are not effective, he will put me on something stronger but for now this should be sufficient.

Ok ok... so husband was right and wife was wrong. He is allowed to rub it into my face for tonight. I sure hope this irritating cough goes away.

I was invited to the grandparents in law last week for tea and even though I had to go there alone (husband was at work) along with the mother in law, I had a pretty good time. It's tough interacting with people when there is such a language barrier but we get by with me nodding along and trying to catch words here and there. I get really frustrated with myself cos I simply cannot capture the words when it's spoken so sometimes to understand a particular word they are trying to say to me, I ask them to spell it for me before I get it. And then when I finally understand what they are trying to say, I feel like kicking myself cos I know the word! I just can't capture the meaning when spoken out loud!

IDIOT!

Amazing how big an ass I make of myself when I already have a mega one attached to my rear.
I feel so so frustrated when I have to interact with people now because people can't understand me and vice versa. The amazing thing is that English is apparently one of the 2nd languages and is taught in school from about age 10. And even though I totally understand their reluctance to interact and inability to fluently converse in English cos it's not usually utilised (therefore very rusty English), I still feel frustrated. FRUSTRATED, FRUSTRATED!

I know, I know...I've only been here a little more than 2 months and I shouldn't be so hard on myself. But the frustration just builds. And builds and builds. People are generally nice..the ones I get to encounter and interact with...which can be a rare occurence. But with any uncomfortable situation, people tend to shy away and it's the case with both me and these new strangers I meet. We're both uncomfortable with the fact that we hardly understand each other so I can't say what I want to say to them and they tend to speak with the one they can understand, my husband. while I am left to remain silent by his side, smiling like the fool I feel.

I know that I have been in this same language difference situation before and I had managed to flourish, if I may boast a little.

But this time, it feels different. the whole situation is different from before. In Thailand, I had people who are eager to talk to ME. People who are happy to get to know me, speak to me and who do not shy away just because we don't understand each other.
I guess it's really a case of you scratch my back and I scratch yours. I encountered interested people and I became interested in them. I found eager friends who took pains to understand me so I became eager and I took great pains to understand them.

I have yet to find such friends here in Sweden.

All I can do for now is sit and try as hard as I possibly can to understand a language where the lexicon and syntax is so far removed from what I know that I get tired from just trying to pronounce the number 7.

I feel removed from friends and family, I feel removed from the general local population and I'm not exactly sure what to do. Mathias gets the brunt of my frustrations and I pity the man.

I pity the fool who married me and moved me far, far up to the North.

Can you feel the angst dripping from my every pore?

The great PS chase began on an unexpectedly busy Sunday afternoon. The husband and I had decided the night before to finally get the drilling done by Monday so that I can redecorate the dinky bachelor pad he once had into that suited for a man married to a HIGHLY sophisticated big city girl. So of cos the girl insists on heading to IKEA for even more shopping (did I mention that we had already gone for a shopping spree a few weeks before??) to which the husband reluctantly agrees to.

The man ALWAYS reluctantly agrees to such ideas by the wife but enthusiasm surely infuses through him by the time she is done recreating the image in her head into reality.

We had a lot of things to get done by Sunday and we had to closely watch the clock as most stores close by 5 or 6pm. Not only did we need to get the drill to get the drilling done (husband had refused regardless of countless previous requests, to simply borrow a drill from a neighbour first just so we can get the drilling done), we had to go to IKEA to get the necessary items and of cos husband wants his birthday present from me, the elusive PS.

What is the PS, you ask? Well, for his birthday this year, I decided to get him PlayStation 2. You can imagine the glint in his eyes when he found out and the glee in his voice when he spoke of finding it. But it would prove to be a much more difficult task than we had thought.

Who would have thought that PlayStation 2 would be THE Christmas present of 2007? Everywhere we went to, there was no PS2 to be found. And these were not tiny electonic stores that we are talking about. We went to 5 different major chain stores, the kind that occupy a large part of the building and yet even they had no more stock of this elusive game console. After 5 stores, I was ready to call it quits and wait another 2 weeks before we can get it for him. After all, his birthday is at the end of the month. But of cos, the boy at heart refuses to give up hope and convinces his wife to visit just 1 more store before he would call the chase dead. Note; by this time, I had called the chase dead 2 stores ago cos we still hadn't gone to IKEA and I was getting MIGHTY nervous.

We didn't quite find exactly what we wanted but it was what we needed. At the very last store, we found a small pile of colourful boxes screaming 'Monster Grumble Junior PS2'. It was the PlayStation 2 console which also included a game and the attachments that come with it. It was slightly more expensive than if we had gotten just the console but we got it anyway since it did come with a game plus attachments so the worth of the bundle worked out.

So there we had it. The long awaited PlayStation 2, drill and IKEA stuff all bundled into the back of the car and 2 very excited people who are smiling for different reasons.

Ah...men and women are definitely made different.

It started snowing on New Year's Eve. I was so excited and happy that I would start my new year surounded by white snow.
Mathias told me that every year, there will be fireworks shot up into the sky from the harbour down the street. I was so excited but then I remembered that we will be going to the house of Jessica, Mathias' sister for a small gathering which would also include my in laws. Well, I am ashamed to admit that I was a little disappointed by the fact that we have to drive an hour to a place where there might not even be snow. And to think of fireworks by the harbour!! Oh!
But we had a good ride to Karlskoga, where she and her family lives. My father in law tried teaching me Swedish tongue twisters and I ended up confusing the old man by my confusion. That was fun.
But I do have to admit that there are a lot of sounds in the Swedish language that I simply can't pronounce well. That deep guttural sound that originates from within your gut just remains in my gut. I'm slowly starting to realise that pronounicing Arabic words are a lot easier for me thn Swedish is.
I realise halfway to Karlskoga that it had turned midnight in Singapore and how my friends and family must either be celebrating or sleeping. How I miss my friends...I really miss just hanging out with my best buds from school, from work at our favourite places. It's been a little tough here cos it's a tad more difficult making friends here when I'm in the house most of the day or else the people around me are old people who don't speak much English. I guess for now, the biggest barrier is the language but I'm sure I'll get over that. I just need to keep telling myself that it will take time. But I'm starting school very very soon so I guess I'll meet people there and hopefully make a friend or two.
Anyway, back to New Year. In Sweden, people celebrate the New Year with lots of fireworks. You can buy fireworks from the store and find an empty field (lots of those here) to fire them. That was so much fun to watch! Mathias, father in law and brother in law were in charge of firing the fireworks and Noel, Jessica's son, was in charge of staying a distance away with me to protect me. Yeah..we had to tell him that story..he's only 5.
Then we had a nice dinner and just chatted (mostly them. I tend to be very very quiet during these moments. Unless I'm being addressed. I know, very boarding school proper). We also played this very fun game called BUZZ on their Playstation 2. I had a lot of fun too even tho it was ALL in Swedish. As a matter of fact, it was so much fun that I'm getting Mathias a Playstation 2 for his birthday. That os a very very expensive gift but I think he's wprth it and we both love it anyway so it's really a gift for both of us. But of cos with every decision comes sacrificed. I had to sacrifice RiverDance tickets which would have been so so much fun to go to but seeing how much more fun we can extract from PS2 for a longer period of time, I think it's worth it. Mathias was extremely surprised by my decision to get that for him. But of cos he's in charge of buying all the games and he's fine with that. I get the foundation and he builds it up. Heh heh...I think that's an excellent compromise.
The New Year countdown began and for the first time, I am standing with my husband looking out the window at other people's fireworks (many tend to shoot prematurely. I think they're mostly excitable men). I think 2008 will be an exciting year for me with so many new experiences, both good and bad.
I wish all my friends and family the best for 2008 and I miss you guys to bits. Thinking of all of you aLWAYS even though I may not be calling you guys all the time.

Feeling sick to the bone now...got a cold now and depending on the day, I will be plagued by various aches and pians on various parts of my body. Sometimes individually and worse times simultaneously. Coughing occasionally and today is backache constantly.
But a girl being a girl, one is almost NEVER to sick to shop. I was woken up by an intense pain in my lower back. It had been so intense that it managed to permeate into my dreams where I was transported back to my last work place and I couldn't walk cos I was suddenly wracked by a blinding pain in my lower back. That was why I woke up...crappers.
But I managed to overcome the pain with great help from lots of painkillers and being the 'dutiful' wife that I am, I cooked lunch for dear husband before he came home from work. He would have been mad at me if he knew I was cooking while in pain but since it was done, he wouldn't have much to say. That's how it usually works anyway. But I did have to take many intervals during the cooking to lie down.
But after lunch, as he had promised, husband dear took me to IKEA! Yay! We stopped by the mall first (double YAY!!) cos he wanted to go to the pharmacy but of cos we ended up looking at other things as well. even though there were good sales going on now, I didn't find anything I liked...ugh!
So going to IKEA was really fun. We had about SGD200 as a wedding gift to spend in IKEA from his aunt and went on looking to beautify or else buy essential things that changes a bachelor pad into a home fit for a family.
Since moving here, I realise somthing that unnerves me a little about the typical Swedish home. And the home of husband dear is not different. He is Swedish after all.
They like it dark..or as they prefer to call it, cosily dim. An entire home can be lit up in the darkness of a Swedish winter night by a small lamp (that I prefer to call a night light) on every window sill and the occasional tiny lamp by the sofa or in a corner. For a girl who likes it bright and loud, all this dimness freaks me out. How does one see what one eats and be able to effectively dodge all the nasty things one does not eat like onions?!? How does one read the wonderful words of a good book? And how the heck is a lady gonna dress up her face in the light of a 15 watt bulb?
The atrocity!
And now as I stare at the gorgeously bright ceiling light that I insisted we have in the living room, I feel contented and truly warmed by the rays of the 60 watt bulb (highest wattage they got here) that will accompany me in the darkness of a Swedish winter. Unlike all those other homes about us.
Strange...strange...

It is the Nobel Prize presentation today and because it is held every year in Sweden, hosted by the Swedish King and Queen, it is a big deal. It is actually equivalent to the Oscars.

Why the Oscars, right? I mean, winning the Nobel Prize is so much more well, noble, than winning best actress and what the winner is wearing.

But in actual fact, this is the day that the royal family and all other celebraties who get the chance to win or attend the Nobel Prize presentation and the dinner later at night, dress up to the nines. The preparation for this much anticipated day competes well with the fuss and fury of dressing up for the Oscars, Emmys and whatever other award show that may exist. During the morning new show today, they had a court etiqutte specialist to tell the TV audience on what guests should wear, shouldn't wear, should do and shouldn't do.

One interesting question that did come up was, how much jewellery does one wear? The show host had thought that it would be unwise to flash much bling bling on oneself in the event one outshines the royal family, especially the Queen.

Outshine the royal family?? That question must have caused much distress within the expert for she said, rather contemptously I would think if she had been snobby, if you had the jewellery, wear it, flash it, show it off for all it's worth.

And if you are able to outshine the royal family, what more the Queen (how dare you deign such thoughts!?), it will be quite an accomplishment. Technically, that is true. One should no longer be afraid of getting beheaded or banished to the deep forest to encounter 7 dwarves for the being the fairest of the land. Especially with what the Royal Family flashes out themselves in the bling bling department. Who's gonna beat a bejewelled tiara heavy enough to crush a small child right?

According to husband, the Royal family has at least 2 outfit changes, which will become the talk of the town tomorrow (it always is). They have one outfit for the actual prize presentation and another (much more anticipated) for the dinner thrown by the royal family.

At this point in time of me typing this, I am actually watching the prize presentation. A Maldivian man (is that right?) just spoke and I had to sit through 5 min of opera. Hai...well, Al Gore has now been called to make a speech and the man speaks like a true American. With a large booming voice, spilling out word after word of bombastic character making up analogies, metaphors and of cos very American words such as 'unprecedented', 'desperate', 'evacuation', 'conflict, 'massive' and even more 'unprecendented'. But unlike countless times before, this American is actually making sense and speaking truth. This time, the rah-rah way of the American may actually be able to bring the good message of the climatic truth across to the common man and make it interesting to him.

Thank you for that.

It is very scary listening to all of this. It's not like I am in the dark about the causes and effects of pollution and climatic change and global warming. I am well aware of it but to actually hear the blunt truth, how close we are to and end 'in ice or in fire', that brings a dark truth across to one's heart. Oh dear, Al Gore has used the extremely American phrase 'the elventh hour'. Ugh..but anyway, back to his important message.

The man got exactly what he deserved at the end of his speech; a standing ovation. And now back to more opera..hai..I think it's their version of interlude between speeches. I dunno which is worse though.

Living in a country where the weather pretty much remains the same, getting either warmer or wetter but never more, one never truy realises the extent to which global warming is affecting our lives. We are aware of it certainly, but it does not affect us enough to get us off our butts to do something about it. To recycle more, to be more aware of the products we use, to take a step in the right direction.

Now living in a country with a whole new way of life, a new way of weather and temperature where even the slightest change in the air creates a monumental difference, one becomes even more aware. In a country where the laws take a deep consideration of the environment in almost everything even though it may take more effort and more cost. But then again, isn't the cost of losing one's future so much more painful?

Thanks to Al Gore, I suddenly got a surge of patriotic pride and protectiveness. Patriotism for my true home, EARTH.

Ok, now time to switch off the lights in the house.

It is St Lucia Day on Thursday so in the small town of Askersund, the townspeople celebrate on Sunday instead. There is a small parade that goes through the entire town past the building we live in so we actually have an option to watch the parade pass by the balcony. How fun!

What is St Lucia Day, you ask?

Well, I had not been introduced to St Lucia until I came to Sweden but it is a day to celebrate in honour of St Lucia who had been persecuted for her beliefs. That's about as much as I know. Well, as much as the husband managed to explain to me on his way to the kitchen to make himself a nice Swedish sandwich.

Helpful man. Hmph..

Anyway, we decided to go down to the town square instead to watch the parade pass since we live so close to the square and we would have had to run like crazy to get a good spot. Plus the fact that we wanted to go have a look at shops which close just before the parade.

The whole square has been very charmingly set up with a huge Christmas tree lit with lights and the streets decorated with stars and leaves and some other unidentified bright thingy. The shopfronts had covered up their shopfronts and revealed their Xmas decor just a few days before. It is apparently a town tradition (Swedes have A LOT of that) and they take off the paper they stuck to the glass front of their shops on a launching day (weekend of cos. It's a whole event. Small town, catch my drift?).

The sun had set by the time we left the house at 4pm but the square was alive with people, singing, dancing santas and a mobile cafe. Yup, I saw a cafe built into a bus, equipped with a cashier counter, a wall of magazines and books and another wall filled with goodies. And in case they don't have the chance to set up the tables and chairs outside the bus, seats have been left at the back of the bus for customers to sit and enjoy their coffee, tea, chocolates, magazines and whatever else they deign to enjoy at the back of a big dark bus. Now, ironically enough, this bus had been designed and is operated by a Christian church group. For what purpose, I'm not entirely sure but it sure is interesting.

The parade started a few minutes early but we heard the choir girls singing some lovely hymns which got us running rather ungracefully down the street and squeezing our big butts through some people to get a good view of the people and animals passing by.

Did I mention the animals??

I had no idea there would be animals. Of cos the fact that we are surrounded by big fields and forests full of wild, tame animals big and small eludes this big city girl. Of cos I had expected some motorised monster of yuletide cheer and people dancing and waving. I got the waving but the dancing only came from the semi drunk santas from a half hour before and the motorised monster came in the form of a car that decided to back his car into the front of the parade so he can exit the parking lot and go home (the middle of the square is actually a parking lot and the parade circled the only street that allowed access out of this parking area. Smart design, yea?).

But no one could stop this big city girl from embarassing herself (but then again who can?) with her oohs and aahs as animal after animal passed me by. Big hunting dogs kept back by flimsy looking leashes fronted the parade followed by horses. So many horses!

Apart from the horses that we all see so often on tv (cos what other world do I know apart from the fantasy of TV right?), I had never seen horses of any other size up close and personal before. So I was very very pleased to see how tiny miniature horses can get and I saw a horse that was so huge, it must have been plucked from the farm of a Giant. And it had the honour of pulling the cart with 6 girls in white holding candles representing St Lucia. Now this animal is so enormous that I do believe, without exaggerating, it's head is about the size of Mathias's torso, and that is impressive. It is taller than Mathias and would have given me vertigo had I tried riding it. I think it must have been big enough to eat me! But due to the new husband not used to te new camera, all the pictures taken of this incredible animal is out of focus or too dark. Oh well.

To me, it was a shame that the sky was so dark during the parade but to Mathias who had been enjoying this festival since childhood, he says that the parade would not be the same with sun (I knew those fangs of his indicated something more that an anomaly). But I did wish that there was snow covering the streets and crunching from under my boots. It would have added so much more to the atmosphere.

This weekend, I am very glad to say passed much more calmly without any attempts on my life (with the help of glögg, that awful awful black drink. Which, to rub poison down the throat, is drunk warm) or o the life of my mother in law who though allergic to nuts was given hazelnut chocolates by her crazed daughter in law.

So yes, it has been a very lovely weekend, filled with random boredom and a big ass horse.

Boys and girls are made very different indeed. While the boys are busy catching tadpoles, the girls are dreaming of their future. How beautiful their wedding will be, the handsome prince that they will marry and the gorgeous flat that she will decorate.

Hai...such wondrous fantasies.

I used to have fantasies like that. But never in any of my fantasies could I have imagined I would eventually end up with a white man who can't tan, in a small quaint and old town in a cold European country, occasionally encoutering deer and cows in the backyard of my parents in law's house.

Life is full of quirky twists and turns.

My first boyfriend had been what I would say a pretty normal selection for me, looking at what I had to select from. He was Malay like me, living in a 4 room flat with his family and went to the same school as me.

Even though I realised we didn't really have much in common and that he is a typical malay Mat Rockers, I didn't care cos I was full of puppy love for the guy.

Now for all the clueless folks out there, allow me to explain what a malay Mat is like. They are of cos Malay, tend to be sporty, love soccer with a passion, usually think they tell the best jokes but it's very lame and thinks that they are ROCK musicians. Now some of them may be talented with a instrument, no doubt, and for those who are not imagine themselves to be talented singers, which they usually aren't. They love rocks groups like Metallica, Bon Jovi, Deep Purple (you get the idea). And for those really into the rock music, some guitarist with wild, untamed hair called Yngwie Malmstein is a hot favourite.

My ex-boyfriend was one such individual. And unfortunately, he falls into the singing category cos the fella can't play the but fancies himself the lead rock singer. Let's just say that even during my throes of love with him, I would laugh when I saw him singing along to his guitar playing mates. Such concentration, such passion and yet so little talent...YIKES!

And so because I had to endure 2 years of such an eye opening experience, I swore never to date a Mat Rocker again. And I was successful for many years and I thought that I would never walk down that rocky path again.

And here I am, 6 years since the end of that era, sitting at my desk typing away in my marital home and finally accepting the truth that the very man I married..is a Mat.

A white Mat. A very white, very rocker Mat.

And while I am pouring my heart, soul and voice into this blog, he is behind me pounding away on one of his 6 electric guitars using his one of 2 amps.

And how do I know I have married a Mat? A species I thought I never again touch again?

I have 2 amps for his electric guitars that come up to my waist to my right, a bookcase that houses nothing but hundreds (really!!) of his rock CDs and concert DVDs (yes, concerts!) to my left and behind me sits his beautiful and latest white electric guitar (his last beloved guitar was gold. GOLD!).

3 Ominous signs of his embedded Mat-hood.

Remember Yngwie Malmstein? I did not remember his name bcos I still reminisce and refuse to forget everything my old boyfriend told me. It's because a copy of this famous (infamous to me) guitarist is staring at my left ear right now. And I know that a few more CDs of his are lying in wait on the shelves above and below it. My husband thinks he's a great guitarist. My old boyfriend thought that he was the greatest guitarist to have ever lived.

If that does not check off another box of the Mat criteria, I dunno what will.

Granted that my husband is a pretty talented guitarist and has been playing since his early teenhood with a decent band and a few CDs produced to his name. It still does not take away his Mat-ness.

He does not serenade me even though he plays the elctric guitar cos in his own words, I DO NOT SERENADE. Hmm...yea, he doesn't. What he does instead is sing me silly songs I've never heard of like Don't Eat the Yellow Snow and some other songs which are totally inappropriate to repeat on public domain. Apart from that, he can scream a few really high notes which may be impressive when I'm in the mood. So I suppose he DOES serenade...just not the way I thought I would be serenaded.

And jokes, well, let's just say that sometimes I laugh just because they are so unfunny. Hmm...that sounds very familiar..my dear old friends would know why.

So let review shall we?

Passion for rock music. CHECK.

Thinks he's a rock singing star. CHECK.

Lame jokes. CHECK.

Yup, he is a certified MAT ROCKER.

But just like in the first time I encountered such an untamed, unfunny, delusional but passionate creature, I am in love.

What's the difference this time? Well, I actually enjoy listening to him play his guitar, he knows when to stop singing, and he respects my dislike of rock music enough to play his rock music and concerts only when I'm busy in the kitchen. And we have a lot more in common that I dare to admit.

I suppose I should learn my lesson from all this.

Mutual respect is very important in a relationship, accepting my partner's individuality and quirks, having rooms to escape each other from and most importantly, NEVER SWEAR OFF ANYTHING. It may be the very thing you end up with. And very happily too.

My days now are filled with lots of cooking, baking and looking for new recipes. Ocasionally I venture to actually delve into my online Swedish language tutorials and learn something new. A good thing about Swedish TV is that for all English programs they broadcast, there will always be Swedish subtitles. So the fact that I LURVE to watch TV helps me to learn a lot of Swedish.
The only problem is that now I know how to SPELL the words...still can\t SPEAK Swedish.
ARGH!! This is so frustrating.
But I do know that learning anything new takes time. A good thing about learning Swedish is that I can at least read the letters. That's a step in the right direction.
I really miss the jemput-jemput pisang my mum used to make for me cos it's my favourite snack. So the other day, I pulled out some bananas that we had bought a few days before just cos it was cheap (we tend to do that a lot..hee!), and decided to make jemput-jemput. It was sooooo good!! Mmm... I missed them so much. Well, at least now I know that I can have them almost anytime I want.
If only bananas weren't so expensive here. Hai...
At least my mother in law is not allergic to them. She just doesn't like them. I didn't realise that she doesn't like bananas so I made some of those jemput-jemput when we went to their house on Saturday and she tried one to be nice but I knew she didn't like the bananas. Oh well.
She is allergic to nuts though. So what did I do but give her something with nuts right?
Cos on sunday when we went to the Christmas market, we decided to sit down and eat some snacks just before heading home. We ate delicious saffron buns and juice and I whipped out some chocolates that I always keep in my bag. Passed Mathias some caramel chocolate bar and handed my mum in law the bigger, better chocolate bar that tastes really good.
You know, I thought I'd be nice to her and try to get into the good mother in law books just to keep the peace. Just something I've learnt from living with my mum and seeing my sis in laws and the many trials and tribulations of being married into a family like mine.
Anyway, I handed her the chocolates which she happily took (the lady likes her chocs and candies) and I took a square from the bar too.
The moment I popped it into my mouth and looked down at the wrapping, I realised that it contained hazelnuts! DAMN!!
My eyes grew wide and I turned to Mathias and almost screamed 'Your mum is allergic!! There're nuts in there!'
UGH! First I made her eat the fruit she hates and then I try and poison her with some geat tasting nutty chocolates.
WHY?? WHY?? Hai...
Note to self: Try not to kill your husband's own mother. Especially when she's innocent. It helps one to keep the peace.

Mathias and I went to the in-laws on Saturday for dinner.


To me, it is most reasonable to ask why we are having dinner there. But perhaps my method of self expression is warped (as is the most of me), as it had sounded somewhat blasphemous to my dear husband's ears.


What?? How DARE you question why we are visiting MY parents? YOUR parents-in-law.


Ok ok...perhaps I exaggerate with husband's reaction but I could feel those vibes churning my way. But anyway, he still replied me with a a very calm, 'It's a social thing. Is that ok?'


Well hell, if you put it that way, why NOT go to the in-laws? Free dinner and all. Why not?


I strongly believe that I am recently on this war path due to a serious case of PMS.


That's right. PMS.


Three of the most frightening letters known to MAN. Especially my man. I seem to question everything and anything nowadays. More so than usual. It's like my ex-colleagues know..when Dian is stressed, DO NOT get in her way cos she wll bring you down like a lumberjack and his tree. PMS, I logicalize (is that even a word??), is a most stressful period of a woman's life. And for most women, this happens every month..the hormones surging like an angst ridden teenager, the anticipation in the body that your period is coming REAL soon and it's gonna be uncomfortabe but the inability of the mind to see things logically through a possible chemical imbalance or simply deeply embedded neurotic behaviour coming alive to feed once a month.


So anyway, we went over there and had a good time with great food. We had kebab meat slices and what I believe to be the world's greatest fries from the pizza place in the same building as us. Those people deserve an award for their fries cos it's just HEAVENLY. I dunno what spices they put in there cos it's more than just your run of the mill salt and pepper. So we had that for dinner while watching some charity show that is something like the one in Sg except that it was a lot less performance but a lot more of the stories of the people who would be benefitting from our goodwill calls of charity and donation.


Swedish, being a welfare state, takes really good care of its own people so unlike in Sg, I've noticed that calls for charity and donations are not so much for its own citzens but they are for a much wider cause, THE WORLD. The charities are focused on the children of Africa, 3rd world countries in Asia and Latin America and the environment. I suppose the fact that the environmentalists have a pretty strong political backing in Sweden.


So this charity show was a call out to fellow Swedes to reach into their hearts of hearts and make a call to pledge. And no, this call does not just deduct an amount from your phone bill and transfer it to the charity at hand. No, by dialing that number, you make a commitment to a child somewhere in Africa or the Phillipines to sponsor the child until the child grows up.


Yes, the idea of sponsoring a child from a 3rd World country is not as far off an idea in Sweden as it is in Singapore. Just before we went home, my in laws decided to introduce me to the drink called GLÖGG (pronounced glerg). I was told that it is a special and very popular Christmas drink that you drink out of a tiny mug. I had thought it would be something like egg nog but when they handed it to me, I was so shocked, all I could do was stare at the mug and giggle.

Yup, the embarrasingly high pitched giggle that comes out of me in moments of nervous energy and high anxiety.

It was a warm, black liquid that smelled like it had come out of the drain and I was sure would sear my oesophagus as it ran down into my gut. I took the CHILDREN'S version of the glögg (I can't believe they make kids drink that!!) which just means that it does not contain alcohol. Now the fact that my father in law had a naughty glint in his eyes when he handed me the mug and my husband refused to drink it but was all supportive when it came to my tipping it into my mouth certainly screamed NASTINESS. But seeing the runny black liquid bubbling noxious gases up my nasal cavity shook my hands but like a teenage boy on a dare..I could not say no to my in laws..so I took it down and allowed the seemingly poisonous to enter my body.

Thank goodness I took only a teaspoonful cos it was one of the nastiest things I've tasted. Ever. Cheers to those who enjoy this warm liquid if nasty but it is NOT for me. But the other 3 people in the room seemed to enjoy themselves mightily watching me suffer in silence.

Nice end to the evening.


Went to a Christmas market the next day with Mathias and his mum.


The Christmas market is held over 2 weekends every year and it is apparently very popular with people from different parts of Sweden driving down to the town of Vadstena just to go to this bazaar. Mathias told me that it would have been so nice if it there had been snow when we went but as luck would have it, it was a bright, semi cloudy day with naught but the recent morning rain visible on the road.


Too bad.


Since husband dear had been calling this Christmas market a..well..market, I had this vision of something similar to the Hay Market in Stockholm where they had rows and rows of stalls selling everything from fruits to bags and purses to flowers of every imaginable colour. I loved the Hay Market cos of all the colours, flowers and the people screaming thir wares at the top of their surprisingly melodic voices.


Apparently the town of Vadstena, where this market was held is a very quaint and charming town known for their very old buildings and historical landmarks. A large part of the the town is made up of very old but well maintained buildings that people actually live in. So it's amazing to be able to see these buildngs and touch the walls that had existed since the 1500s.


The market is held within the castle walls and I mean actually WITHIN the walls of the castle. The walls surrounding the castle are extremey thick...so thick that the roof (which is covered in grass, to feed goats in the olden days!) is big nough for a small battle should the need ever arise.

That day, I walked on 300 year old floorboards, weaved in and out of very old rooms full of people selling traditional Swedish trinkets including iron candle holders and candle chandeliers hand made by a blacksmith making more candle holders in the courtyard the traditional way in the middle of winter without shelter.

Interesting.

But most fun of all, I met Santa who was doing his usual rounds of the castle (of cos Santa visits the castle..it's royal ground!). I hadn't thought much of the man dressed in red and had a white beard (seeing how I had already met a woman wearing a medieval cape and another wearing a long leather jacket like a wizard).That was until he took my arm and started hugging it while mumbling something in Swedish.

Of cos I was nervous and quick to point out the fact that I don't speak English while beseeching to my nearby husband with my pathetic eyes to save me from this red cloaked madman. But what did husband dear do?

He SMILED happily and said, 'It's Santa! How nice!'

Santa: mumble..mumble...mumble..,

Me: Huh?? Erm...I don't speak English?..

Santa: (laughing and still hugging my arm TIGHTLY) And what do YOU want for Christmas?

Me: Huh?? Er..Christmas? What I want for Christmas? (Note: At this point, even I realise that I soud ike an idiot) Well, I...I want an Electric Car.

Sanat: Huh?? An electric car? (now it's HIS turn to be dumbfounded. Finally lets go of my arm) An electric car huh?...Hmm...that will take a lot of magic you know. (Ha...that's right, Einstein). Well, I can't promise you an electric car but I will definitely try and see what I can do. Ho! Ho! Ho! (Why do they always have to laugh like that?). A lot of magic but I'll see what I can do. Maybe..just maybe...Merry Christmas!!

Hmm....now I look forward to Christmas for a magical electric car to appear at my doorstep. Or maybe just a plate of cookies in it's place.

Either way, I'm excited!

As with most weddings, there are a million and one pictures so i will be putting up some great memories...over a period of time...meaning occasionally...when i can sift thru this photo mania...

In the meantime, I just realised that there was 1 particular guest that I would like to showcase.

She means a lot to me, especially seeing how she had dressed up particularly for this day. But the fact the her father's only sister was getting married got lost between putting on her diapers and sticking her finger up her nose (an unusually frequent occurence). Nadia was still in her own little world.

2 weeks ago, I attended one of the most important events of my life.

I went to a wedding.

My own.

And yes, the morning of that BIG day was one of minor chaos...from what I've heard.

Cos you see, I made the wonderful decision of staying in my airconditioned room, surrounded by the cheerful green curtains I CHOSE, the beautiful fake floral arrangement I BOUGHT with the furniture placed exactly as how I WANTED it.

BRIDEZILLA you say? Hardly...I was a tranquil flower glowing in a serene light, ready to be further beautified in the hands of a professional as I wait for the hour that my white knight comes to take me away....

I left the tyranny to my mother...a true GODZILLA that can bewilder the geniuses of this world with her staunchly held but truly bafflingly acquired opinions, ideas and arguments.

In light of this 'wonder' woman I call my mother, I would like to take this opportunity to thank all who have contributed to maintaining my sanity in the months before and leading to the very day I sign my life away....I mean I get married.

It has been a tough year planning a wedding with a shift job, a groom who is not there and has no clue (literally), a mother who has moments of tranquility and great ideas, and me being me...with my own moments of insanity.

If not for friends to hold me up, hold me down, hold me back...we would all be looking at a major bloodbath.


My best friend Faridah has been the force behind me, pushing me to actually get my ass moving with this wedding, without whom, this wedding would not have been as beautiful as it was. My in laws thank you deeply for helping them understand what the heck was going on during the entire she-bang...from the kompang to making sure that the magic pot lives on at their table. They told me that never once was the food plates on their table empty. They have no idea how it happened but like magic, the food just keeps re appearing..SPOOKY...but thanks, my dear.


My great gang of friends, Cheryl, Aida, Francine, Sar and even faraway Praisie...have tried to make time for me even though it may sometimes feel like the toughest thing to do in the world. The little time that we do get to spend to just chat, laugh and eat so that I can be ditzy 'ol me is something that I cherish so much, you guys have no idea.

Special thanks to Praisie and Sup who came all the way from Phuket to attend the wedding. Kop khun mak na ka!!

To the great Front Office team I work with, thanks for the great and not so great shifts we've had together. It's only when we've had bad days that we truly learn something about the job and about ourselves. To the wonderful fellow GROs who make and break my day everyday and I thank you for the memories..you guys are one of the biggest reasons why it was so difficult for me to leave.

Liyana, Amin and Duta, you guys have no idea how much I will miss you 3. From your robocop ways, your tepung white face and your silly pranks and stapling of clothes...you guys know who you are... thanks for all the much needed support and advice that you guys give me at all times of the day and night. I hope I have been able to be as good a friend to you and you guys have been to me this past year or so.

To Wilda and Fifah, thank sos much for all your help during the wedding. Couldn't have run so smoothly without you guys. Special big thank you to Fifah who helped my mum with her desperate search into the envelope bag. Good luck, Wil to your wedding plans. Next in line!!
Keep in touch, guys...I mean it.

To my entire family...thanks so much for everything. I can't believe how everyone just pulled up their bootstraps when it came down to the crunch and dove into helping out headfirst. To my aunties who helped sew my curtains BY HAND, cook, keep my mother occupied...thank you thank you! To my 2 sis in laws...you guys are just THE BEST! Thanks for being there.


And last but most certainly not least, to the guy who has had to put up with every tantrum, mood, temper, argument and plain 'ol nastiness and yet still held on for dear life at the end of the day to call me his wife....thank you, thank you, thank you..... for your patience, honesty, good temper and persistence.

You are what got us here.