Despite all the tests, I have had a pretty interesting week and especially weekend.

Husband and I had decided that we will get a cat but we had thought perhaps in the summer when the weather is warmer and we have more time off from school and work. Just so we can spend more time with the cat. But knowing impatient and persistent me, I managed to convince the husband that perhaps getting a cat before summer would be nice. He thought about it and agreed that perhaps instead of June, we can get the cat in May.

Fair enough, I let that one go...for a few days. After that I continued to argue and whine my case to him and convinced him that perhaps looking through the nearby cat shelters wouldn't hurt. He agreed and said maybe we can go look at cats in the shelters sometime in April. I then started oh so subtly chancing upon the websites of the nearby shelters when the husband just happens to look at the computer screen. Of cos all this while whining (subtly and elegantly of cos) about how a nice kitten would be lovely. Husband agreed and we got the address but he wasn't sure when would be a good time to go.

I convinced husband that 2 Saturdays ago was an excellent day. He agreed and we went off to Hallsberg where they had a good cat shelter called Spinnhuset. They had a lot of beautiful and big cats and unlike what I had previously thought, all the cats were very comfortably set up in their own cage or sharing with a sibling with their own litter box, scratching post tower, a whole range of toys and what not. Not a single meow could be heard from the cats who were either snoozing away or lazily looking out the window. It was a very very calm environment and I couldn't even tell it was a shelter except for the fact that there were cage like doors swung shut so the cats couldn't run out since some of them didn't have a great temperament.

And surprise surprise, when we got there, husband pretty much fell in love with a semi grown kitten, Sussie. She's a black kitten of about 7 months and has a small face, is quite lean but a pretty long body. She looks older than 7 months bcos of her long body. And so even though he was the one hesitating all along about when to get the cat, husband was the one who came up to me with a sheepish grin and asked, 'So..shall we sign the adoption papers today?'

The adoption process is to me pretty good that ensured a decent home for each cat. We didn't automatically get the cat but had to wait for the chairperson of the shelter to call us to conduct an interview to see if we were suitable. We paid 700Sek (abt SGD140) when we picked Sussie up but that included all vaccinations and sterilisation. And if the cat is too young to be sterilised (like Sussie), they will give us a voucher to be presented to the vet so that the sterilisation bill gets sent to the shelter instead of us. Good huh? And if for whatever reason, it does not work out between the cat and its new owners, the new owners can always return the cat back to the shelter. The shelter lady told us of one of the cats who had been returned 3 times by different owners cos it didn't work out. For some reason, the cat just refuses to eat when it's at a new home. It literally starves itself so they have to choice but to return it to the shelter where it does eat. Upon filling out of the adoption papers (which we did 2 Saturdays ago), we had to wait at least 5 days in which time we can always change our minds about the cat. But we didn't change our minds about Sussie and barely 3 days later we got the call from the chairperson asking when we can pick her up.

Yay!! So we picked up our Sussie last Saturday and brought her home. She is a very shy and extremely careful little cat and is no longer as small as in the picture. I have been unable to take a newer picture of her since she keeps hiding under the sofa and refuses to come out when we are around. But she is very very active at night and is curious and playful when alone. So I guess we just give her time and it'll work out. At least she eats and has a pretty expensive taste when it comes to special treats cos she likes smoked chicken ham and prawn cheese. Mum in law calls Sussie the luxury cat. heh heh...

This week is gonna be tough. It's full of tests, listening and written. Oral tests, I guess are a daily occurence since Klas, my teacher, speaks in nothing but Swedish and expects all of us to understand. But that is the best way to learn quickly and somewhat effectively I have found. And a good dictionary close at hand is crucial in class. I dunno where I will be without my trusty albeit tiny dictionary. I have a big, satisfying dictionary at home but I can't lug it to school everyday cos it's just too heavy.

So anyway, we had a letter writing test yesterday and this time I couldn't use my dictionary. Oi oi oi! (Swedish expression for alamak!). But I got through it and I must say my letter sounded pretty good too. But I did kick myself at home afterwards when I realised I had spelt lägenhet or apartment in english wrong. I had missed out on those 2 tiny dots on top of the a. Darn! For the sake of just 2 dots I have ruined my letter. Oh well, never mind. I am a lot more relaxed during these tests now cos I don't want to move to the next class. Not yet anyway. I just don't feel ready to move up yet even though Klas did mention to Mathias that he feels that I may be ready to move to the C class.

What?? Again?! No lah...don't want lah. Not yet. If I move again after barely 4 weeks in my B class, then I just feel like I haven't learnt enough. Not from Klas anyway. Plus I heard the teacher in C Class can be quite a witch. Ugh...not looking forward to that. And anyway, my classroom is so pretty, I really don't want to move. But I can tell that my class is getting full. When I started there, there were probably 6 or 8 seats empty and today there are only 2 empty. And that's cos some people are absent today.

Part of the test would include prepositions..and I HATE Swedish prepositions. I hate them almost as much as I hate onions! Actually, come to think of it, Swedish prepositions and onions share the same compartment in my heart. I hate them and I never want to see or taste them...but at the end of the day I know that life is just easier with them around. So I tolerate their existence and use them to the most minimum of my ability. And note that it is SWEDISH prepositions. even though English prepositons can be a bitch sometimes, at least they follow some sort of logic.

Yes, I said logic. Swedish prepositions follow no rule of thumb, logic or anything in between. There is almost no way of intellectualizing it. And if you try, as Knut will put it 'Katastrof!' and 'Hjärnan (brain) explodera!!'. I have tried asking Klas, Mathias and even come desperately close to asking the mother in law to tell me why you use this particular preposition here but not there even though it essentially means that same thing. Example, you ask? Sure! Plenty!

Take for example, Swedish preposition på (paw). It is supposed to essentially mean on. Like on the street, on the table. But it is also used to indicate location like at the library, at the disco, at the store..but not just any store. You have to indicate specifically the store name to be able to use på with it. If you're just gonna use the generic store...then it's a different preposition. Gosh, don't even get me started on that one. Oh yeah, på is also used to tell someone to come on around and say hi to me. And there is just no logical way of thinking when one can use på. One just has to know.

That is the one phrase that I keep hearing over and over here from Swedish speaking people. Some things in the language (esp prepositions!) you can't explain. You just have to learn it, remember it and regurgitate it when the time comes. Ugh!

So anyway, that is my nightmare with the Swedish preposition. But other than that, I think I've been doing quite alright. Except for the fact that I still have a lot of trouble understanding conversations in Swedish. It is really very tiring concentrating so hard trying to decipher and make out words. Especially when the Swedes are famous for either mumbling through words or shortening them. And a lot of words sound so similar that it can be pure hell just trying to figure out which topic of conversation they are on. Double Ugh!!

Tests, tests and more tests...I'm just looking forward to the end of Monday...my last day of all these tests. then it'll just be back to endless writing exercises.

I went for my very first gynaecologist appointment yesterday. I received a letter from the health centre a few weeks ago stating that an appointment has been made on my behalf to go see the gynaecologist (at least that's what I had thought) to get some tests done at the health centre in town.

Since the letter was in Swedish, husband dear had to translate and having the amazing ability to translate everything Swedish as concisely and clearly as is Mathias-ly possible, I do usually get the message but it's probably 3hours later.

Ok fine, I exaggerate. It's only 2 hours, but you get the idea.

Anyway, all I knew entering the health centre was that I was gonna see the doctor, get some test done that's supposed to have been done to most women living in the area to keep track of changes. I have no idea what the tests are, what changes they are talking about and why the need to keep track of it but I went anyway cos isn't it usually good to get tests done? At least then I know...of what I'm not sure but I'm certain I gain some sort of knowledge about my body that I didn't before. And that's always a good thing.

Of cos seeing that it's my first time, I am understandably unsure and downright nervous. Mathias was nice enough to come with me and showed the acceptable level of compassion and understanding. We didn't know whether he should come along into the examination room or not but if the lady doctor (I made sure of that) didn't speak much English I would need help translating and vice versa.

We went into the tiny waiting room and I couldn't sit still (nervouslah). A few minutes later, a lady came in and introduced herself as Monika and said she will be doing the test for me. Ok, so this lady looks nice enough but since she spoke only Swedish thus far, I still didn't know if I wanted Mathias in there with us or not. So I decided to just go with the flow and told him to follow.

We entered the room and to me it looks like a torture chamber. It was a small room with a desk against one wall, a tiny frosted window in a corner, a small gurney in another corner and another gurney looking thing (tho not flat) with big STIRRUPS.

Hmm...I knew there was gonna be the stirrups thing. I've watched enough TV to know what it looks like but damn that looks intimidating. It was not hidden, not stowed away, no curtains ANYWHERE in the room not even a partition to give anyone any sort of feeling of privacy. I turn to Mathias and say, 'Whatever happens, stay close to the head. Remember..the head!'

What had I gotten myself into??

It was a strange first few minutes as she gave us seats and as all 3 of us sat down, we just sort of looked at each other not knowing what to say.

I must say this about Swedes in general. There is a real tendency, I realise, for Swedes to fall into some sort of pause in the middle of a conversation. It is an awkward pause and what makes it worse is that it is usually uncomfortably long. But it happens..a lot...especially among people who have just met or acquaintances who bump into each other on the street. I guess they just need to collect their thoughts but sometimes I just wish I could tell them, 'For goodness sake, man, pick up the pace! Say something! Does every pause have to be this long?'. Reason I don't say anything first is that this conversation is usually between husband and another Swede and it is in Swedish. How can I just butt in right?...heh heh...

So anyway...pause...I look at Monika...pause...I look at Mathias...still pause..and I begin to wonder if I'm supposed to have done something. Then suddenly Monika starts talking and explaining the procedure and such. And it turns out she speaks perfect English. Not extremely smooth but better than some Singaporeans I know which was fantastic news!

Just as I thought things were moving along smoothly, Monika finishes explaining and falls into another pause.

Damn...

So again I look at her, look at Mathias (who is as bewildered as me, obviously) and back at her. And again it is an unbearably long pause. And just as I was about to give up ever getting back home before dark, she stands up and goes, 'so...shall we start?'

Nervous, I swallowed and stood up, looking around and wondering what I'm supposed to do next. I turn to husband and he looks (still bewildered) at me and I tell him to leave. I swear I could hear him sigh with relief and he cleared out of the room faster than a bunny in heat. I turn back to Monika and she smiles at me, points to a corner and says 'you can take off your pants there.'

I look at the corner and wonder HUH?..There? The corner has some sort of partition that is bolted to the wall and pushed back but it looks old and I don't want to risk breaking it or having to waste time pulling it closed. There is also a chair (for comfort? Ease of stripping?) but nothing else. I don't get a gown, a cloth...nothing to cover myself with once I have my pants off.

My God....may He give me strength to get through this. Aiyai yai...

So there I was...naked from the waist down and pulling my shirt as low as it can go to try and cover myself. Let's just say the next few minutes as I walked to the stirrup table to the point I walked back to my clothes had it's moments of embarassment, great discomfort and strange sensations. It is NOT something I or any women in the world look forward to. Ugh...makes me think twice about pregnancy.

But I must say that Monika really helped to ease the whole situation as she tried to distract me by talking about other things as she took the test sample she needed. Turns out she's not a gynaecologist but a midwife. In Sweden, women see midwives and not gynaecologists when it comes to pregnancies, contraceptions and anything that comes up during a normal pregnancy and natural birth. So some women never even ever see a doctor when they have their babies. And to me, that's pretty interesting.

So I will get my test results back in about 2 weeks and according to Monika, this test is done every 3 years for women between the age of 23 to 59. So I guess I will be seeing a midwife in about 3 years or during my first pregnancy...whichever comes first.

I'm not sure which I'm looking forward to the least, to be honest.

It was my first day in the 2nd level (B class) today and it was a surprisingly fun day. I didn't even really realise the time pass until Klas, my new teacher, looked at the clock and exclaimed, 'Oh dear, only 2 more minutes!'

I was quite lucky today as I met one of my new classmates on my way up to the class. Turns out she lives in Askersund as well and she's a really nice Thai lady. She told me to sit at the desk behind her as she already had a desk partner. Som is her name and soon I learnt the name of our desk partners who are her close friends at school. Sitting next to Som is Vlasta, a Slovenian lady who likes to smile and laugh, especially with Som. And sitting next to is a German man called Knut. He is a nice guy and friendly although his German accent is so strong when he speaks Swedish that I have trouble understanding him. But since all 3 of them speak nothing but Swedish (albeit broken sentences), I'm forced to listen and speak Swedish as well which is great for me. At least there are people I can speak Swedish with unlike in my other class where you either speak Arabic or English to get any sort of conversation going.

There is a much better mix of cultures and people in the B class. There are Burmese, an American (who is always the first one out the door for every break and at the end of the day), a lady from Cameroon, Iraqis, Thais, German guy, Slevenian lady and me, Klas' first Singaporean student.

Let me tell you about my new teacher, Klas. He is a very interesting man to me and a big contrast from Leif. Klas is much older with sprigs of white hair sprouting every which way around his head from ear to ear as he is bald at the top. He wears a loud, multi patterned, multi coloured thick cardigan everyday buttoned up to the top. He is a rather small man, shorter than me. As a matter of fact, when he saw me one of the first things he exclaimed as he looked up at my face was 'Oj, oj, oj, you're much taller than I thought you would be.'. Klas is also a really friendly man and very animated in his explanations and even the way he speaks. One of the most significant differences between Klas and Leif is that the latter speaks oh so slowly while Klas speaks like a bullet train. But for some reason, I can understand Klas as well as Leif. I find that very interesting...So anyway, I do like my teacher and he seems really nice so I think I probably will continue to enjoy school.

But one of the most attractive and significantly different thing about my new class as compared to my old one is the view from the classroom window. Class B is located on a totally different building from Class A and it's located on the 3rd floor. While I was in Class A, the windows we had were pretty high up so when we sat down, I could only see the sky. And from that window we could see the main road and the parking lot in front of the school. It was nice but nothing compared to the view I now have.

Knut and I sit by the window and what a glorious window it is. One entire wall of the classroom is covered with windows and it is much lower so the bottom of the window is at my desk level. That means all I need to do to look out the window during class is turn my head left. What I can see from that window is so much more beautiful and everyone agrees. I can see the many train tracks and passing trains through the day. I also see part of the neighbourhood and the roofs of the houses. And beyond that, I even manage to catch a glimpse of the forest. So on an exceptionally sunny day like today, I had a wonderful view of gorgeous scenery.

Did I mention that Spring has officially arrived. I managed to survive winter (albeit it is one of the mildest winters in years), and now a new season has arrived. Can't wait to see flowers spring up and bloom and the trees turn green.

Had a big test at school last Wednesday. And it's probably bcos of the fact that I was born and raised a Singaporean, but obviously I was very kanchong lah. Ask the teacher this question and that and then the day before the test, the worst thing happened.

I fell sick. Darn...

Husband called the school in the morning to let them know that I wouldn't be coming for class and he spoke to Leif. I was still kanchong about the test (obviously) and kept telling husband that I HAVE to go to school cos there were still some stuff I didn't understand and I needed worksheets to practice and blah blah blah. And even though husband dear is a Swede and does not really understand the need for kanchong ness before a test, my kanchong-ness made him kanchong and he got the brilliant idea to ask Leif to fax over any extra material he may have so I can study at home.

Thinking back about it, I guess I might have been a little over doing it. Hee hee...Leif told Mathias to tell me not to worry cos he knows I'll do well for the test since I seem to know my stuff in class. So he said he will NOT send any materials over and told me to just stay home and rest. It didn't help me with my level of anxiety but I guess he was right.

So I did my test and it didn't turn out to be too difficult for me. But like any typical Singaporean, handing the test paper in doesn't mean I stop thinking about the test. For the rest of the day, I thought of all my answers and wondered if I got them right. Mathias and I drove to the supermarket after he finished work that night and as we neared the supermarket, we passed a big sign that contained one of the words that I was tested on.

My eyes bulged and I screamed, 'No! F**k! I spelled CHEAP wrong!! Damn! There's 2 Ls not 1!! Damn!' It's amazing how upset one can get when one knows 1 mark gets cut off for lack of 1 letter.

And of cos that wasn't the end of my rampage. While in the supermarket, I was walking around the vegetable section and I came upon the chiller that held the carrots and without realising it, I looked up at the sign and screamed (once again and without restraint), 'What?! What the h*ll? I spelled carrots wrong! F**k!! I put the damn dots on the wrong O (don't ask)!!'

It was when I had screamed the dreaded 'F' word did I realise an older couple standing next to the carrott chiller. Oops..I hope they dun understand what that word means. I was kinda embarassed but still wanted to kick myself again for misspelling yet another word. So I suck at spelling...BIG TIME.

We got the test papers back the next day and Leif had told us that the test is very important as it would determine whether we can move up to the next level. Even though I had misspelled a few words resulting in 1/2 mark being decudted, I am very super proud to say that I scored 63.5 out of 66, which is a GREAT result, since I only got 1 question wrong (minus 1 mark) and the rest were spelling mistakes (which I still wanna kick myself for).

So I am pleased to announce that after 10 days of school where I was taught for 30 hours, I will be moving up to Level B starting Monday. I am proud of myself since I honestly didn't know a word of Swedish except hello and goodbye and thanks when I first arrived 3 months plus ago and now I am moving up the school ladder a month ahead of the schedule I set for myself. I am nervous though and I don't think I am ready for it yet but since Leif thinks I am, that's where I will be spending the next few weeks learning.

Wish me luck!

Yesterday, school was rather entertaining. All I could do was sit back, enjoy the show and try my very best not to laugh out loud.

Gunilla, the teacher who teaches the other Level 1 class, had the day off so they joined our class. The difference between the two classes is the level of ability to read the alphabet. Or at least that was what I was told by Leif, my Swedish teacher.

Entering our class, I realise that the 2 groups can be divided by countries as well. Except for 1 or 2 exceptions, yours truly included, my class is made up of Iraqis while the other class is made up Burmese and perhaps even Laotians (this is unconfirmed detail). And each group kept trying to assert their presence throughout the day, much to my amusement and Leif's irritation. But seeing that Leif is an exceptionally calm man, his version of irritation is actually what I subject the husband to on a daily basis.

I have tried and managed to maintain some level of acceptance to the idiosyncracies of my Iraqi classmates. I try to overlook the Arabic chatter that sometimes overwhelms the Swedish that's supposed to be what we are there for and the Iraqi girl who keeps poking me in the middle of every exercise for the answers (which I have resigned to just giving her instead of trying to make her understand the answers).

But now for a day, I endure even more idiosyncracies from a different continent which can bring out the worst in a person. I understand that I am now sitting in a middle of a class of refugees. Political refugees who came to Sweden to escape the unstable situation in their own countries. So whatever unpleasant feeling I feel makes me feel guiltier than ever.

But I can't help it!!

I turn and glance at the Burmese students and wonder if they are familiar with the comb. Almost all of them look like they had forgotten to shower that morning but they certainly remembered to cover their faces extensively with white powder (which looks more like smeared flour on their faces). I'm certainly not saying that all of them look unkempt as some of them do look relatively neat, but I had to hold back the urge to get them a comb and wet towel nonetheless. If that was the only thing that bothered me that day, I would say no problemo amigo but of cos there is always more...

I know that the group always eats together during our recess break cos I've seen them. They eat a good proper meal that everyone potlucks together. And it will include rice and a few other dishes so I know it's a good meal. I just wish they didn't have to express it in class as well.

After the break, the women started burping. And I don't mean the oops I accidentally let that one out kinda burp. It's the kind that happens after a good reunion dinner where the men sit back unbutton their pants a little and unceremoniously let loose with the gastric symphony.

Why oh why do these women think that it is ok for them to burp like that in public? In a room full of strangers? And why only the women??!! Ugh...

Apart from the Burmese, there is another Iraqi couple in that class and it turns out that they are the parents of one of my classmates, Nada. What I find interesting about this old couple is that the father always comes to school dressed like a lawyer. I have never seen him in anything other than the full ensemble of crisp shirt, silk tie (I think it's silk), woolen vest, pants and matching jacket. And this is of cos under his very spiffy looking trenchcoat which he takes off in school (thank goodness). And compared to his fellow classmates, his hair is always immaculately coiffed, he colognes and his hands and nails are in short order. The perfect Iraqi gentleman.

I have never heard him speak before until he came to class and everytime he did speak that day, I had to maintain absolute and total control. And the fact that he sat directly across from me made it even more essential. I can tell that this is a proud man, a man certain of himself and a man whom you don't really step on (simply cos his shoes look expensive) so I didn't wanna make any enemies. Plus I'm very polite.

We had a simple reading exercise and it was his turn to read. Let's just say, thank God it was a short passage cos another 2 seconds and I would have burst out laughing uncontrollably. He was called on to read and he held up the paper confidently before embarking on a language journey that only he could understand. It didn't sound Swedish, Arabic or any other language known to the common man. The only way that poor Leif even knew where along the passage the man was, was when he pronounced the word somewhat close to what it's supposed to be. When I say close, it means when someone says 'betty' when he's supposed to say 'bus ride'. But even though I laugh at the little old man (from deep inside of cos), it was still a good effort since his wife didn't even bother to read and just waved it along like traffic.

The old man was quite hardworking compared to his wife who just sat there, honouring us with her presence. He actually bothered to write things down and answer questions posed by the teacher.

We were doing numbers and had to read out the numbers on the board in Swedish (of cos). It can be a tricky exercise as the numbers are in the thousands and we are reading prices of furniture in a store. So Leif asks, 'Hur mycket kostar den soffa?' (How much does the sofa cost) and Majeed (old man) is called upon to answer. With his trademark confidence, Majeed says 'ok' and stands up tall. Which is not too tall as he is a rather short man. You must understand that NOBODY ever stands up to answer. So Majeed stands up, brushes himself down a little, takes a deep breathe and with as much confidence I have ever seen this man produce, he says '3 thousand and 4 hundred'. He then nods, satisfied and sits back down. Leif smiles and gives a little laugh and says 'Det bra! (That's good!) men du maste talar svenska inte engelska' (but you must speak Swedish not English). What can I do but laugh a little myself as I look across me and Majeed looks absolutely self satisfied at his answer.

It was a fun day at school.

She didn't know what she had dreamt about but she woke up that morning with a smile on her lips. Looking over to the man beside her, she saw him smiling right back and through the blinds she could tell the morning sun was already rising.

She knew it was going to be a beautiful day.

She always took a long walk after sending him to work and that day was no different. The chill of the winter morning invigorated her and the quiet serenity of the usually bustling town square calmed her.

Going up the hill, past silent gardens and dimly lit houses, the delicious smell of burning firewood escaped from almost every other chimney. At night the smell of roasting wood in the fireplace is even stronger but the delicate scent of lingering smoke could not escape the quiet air and she loved it. One can hardly tell that the neighbourhood was just beginning to stir.

There was no snow but as she made her way to the lake, the tell tale signs of winter became piercingly evident. There was a stillness in the air that only the winter morning could bring and a stillness in the water that only the winter night could leave behind.

She had never seen ice on the water before and to witness the lake frozen in ice as far as her eye could see took her breath away. She knew it was too thin to walk on but it didn't stop the excitement and awe from bubbling in her.

Just then a flock of geese flew overhead in formation as if heading South, circling the small island that stood alone on the middle of the lake before disappearing from sight as quickly as they had appeared. Resisiting the urge to make herself comfortable on the bank and rest her feet on the ice, she walked on along the lake's edge, marvelling at the stillness of everything one could see and the energy of everything that one couldn't.

She slowly made her way to the harbour where only the big boats remain docked for the winter not at all expecting the picture that unveiled before her.

Approaching the harbour, she caught sight of a flock of birds in the water, looking suspiciously similar to the very flock that had flown by her just minutes before. It was until she stood at the very edge of the pier, peering out to the birds could she tell that they were not swimming but rather sitting around on the ice. Some walked and a few skated across but they looked very much at home, much to her amusement.

Barely having gotten over the surprising sight of the geese hanging out on the ice, suddenly she caught sight of 2 more birds landing right in the middle of the flock. What would usually be a graceful slide into the water and a calm swim around the lake turned into an amusing skid on tail feathers and flapping wings as the bird veered uncontrollable before coming to an unceremonious stop near the feet of some geese. It was then that she realised that both the newcomers were unmistakably smaller than the flock. She watched bemused as the 2 birds, who turned out to be ducks, began moving away from the group with nary a pause. Wings outstretched to make itself look bigger than it really is, the two ducks waddled away as quickly as their tiny feet could take them with what one could hardly call grace and distinction.

The ducks with the identity crisis quickly joined their nearby comrades and managed to blend in quickly and quietly into the right flock this time turning her attention to the ducks resting barely ten metres from the geese. Instead of just sitting on the ice, the ducks had convened around an opening in the ice close to the bank. The ice oasis resembled a busy beach with ducks lounging around on the edge of the ice and some ducks gracefully swimming around in the icy cold water. All that was missing were the parasols, beach chairs and sunglasses.

Staring into the frozen lake, she could make out hundreds of tiny white fish moving about just below the icy surface. With the sun firmly up in the sky shining down full force, she knew this sight would not last long but the short glimpse of nature at its best that she had been gifted with, was enough to thrill the city girl, fill her with wonder and lift her spirits.

Life felt truly beautiful that day.

I was watching an episode of the Ellen Show this afternoon and she always has a few segments that are quite funny or what they would call 'roligt' in Swedish. Well today, one of the segments was a showcase of funny clips from those TV shopping programs I think, and I just HAVE to mention the first clip that she showed.

It was a clip of a bearded man in his 50s showing some invention or some device. I can't really tell what the device is except that it is a small handheld black cylinder but apparently it's supposed to be able to calculate something very very accurately.

The man repeated over and over to the host of the show, 'This device is extremely sensitive and really great. There's nothing else like this and it's truly one of a kind.'
As he shows it off in his hand, the camera does a close up of this black device and you can tell the man is REALLY nervous bcos his hands are trembling and red. Unless of cos he has a hand sunburn and Parkinson's, the man is ultra NERVOUS.

Then suddenly the unthinkable happens...just as he is reiterating that the device is 'one of a kind' and that 'you can't find this anywhere else', he drops the device and it SMASHES to a thousand pieces on the floor! The look of sheer horror on his face as his glance moved from the floor to the host back to the floor was both funny and heartbreaking.

And what else can a man say when something like that happens other than 'Oh S**t..'

Did I mention about the Playstation 2 that we now have on the house? The husband came home on Valentine's Day from work holding a box and smiling like it was Christmas morning. Turns out he had gotten a dance mat!! Apparently he had been clearing out the warehouse with his colleague and they found a bunch of these dance mats for PS1. So since they weren't going to sell them, he brought one home. So now we have buzzer attachments, microphones and a dancemat to play on our PS2 at home.

Cool!

Swedish word of the day: Roligt!

Happy Valentine's Day to all!!

It is a beautiful winter's day in Sweden, with the sun shining like crazy down on us. Husband says this is the Spring sun and it usually comes out around this time. Unfortunately, there is simply no snow when there should be. The snow is supposed to come and stay even until March. But it has hardly come this year. Talk about global warming. Kinda freaky actually.

Anyway, this is the first time that Mathias and I are actually physically together on this day for lovers so it is pretty exciting and fun. I decided that I would not be buying any gifts for the man or even flowers. I mean, I'm the one who's supposed to get the flowers but I have learnt to not expect them...just so I get pleasantly surprised if I do get them.

And yes, I did get the chocolates and flowers from the husband. He couldn't really wait to give me the chocolates so I got them last night and the flowers he had in hand when he came home for lunch. What a nice surprise!
Apparently the flowers don't cost amy different from all the other days. But then again he bought the roses at the supermarket so I dunno if that counts. But then again what counts is always the thought. I bet a woman came up with that saying.

But what I did decide to give him was one of my recently developed specialties. I decided to bake some Valentine's goodies for the husband. I baked his favourite cinnamon buns and something rather new.

I made some lovely cupcakes and frosted them with swirly pink frosting. I also made something I had never done before, heart shaped muffins topped with chocolate ganache and pink heart frosting. It took a bit of time cos I had never made them before but at the end of it, it was truly worth the effort.

Of cos since I had no experience with frosting using the piping nozzles before, you can tell 2 of the muffins were experimental. But I must say I am quite proud of my Valentine's Day goodies and husband is extremely appreciative.

It's so much fun to bake!

In answer to my dear friend's enquiries, yes, there are real life Iraqis in my class...as a matter of fact more 80% of the class comes from Iraq. And refugees attend Swedish classes 5 days a week. So I get Friday off but they still have to attend class. Yippee!!

So that actually makes Friday lunches and dinners even more special for Mathias and me. I would actually have the time to cook his lunch on day so it's fresher and warmer. Since I have school and only reach home at 1pm everyday, I don't have time to cook lunch for husband who usually has lunch at noon. Instead, in line with my wifely duties (heh heh), I prepare lunch the night before and put it in the fridge so he will come home and heat up his lunch. So far it's been working quite well.

It's only been 3 days since I started school but it feels like I've been going for some time. I dunno, maybe it's because the teacher is so nice and patient or that the people are not so scary. Well, not all of them anyway. Plus the fact that most of us can't speak each other's languages helps me to not feel so out of place since I don't understand them anyway. Heh heh...

It's quite interesting my day at school. Even though my day is barely 4 hours long starting from 8am to 11.45am, we are given a snack break. I call it recess time but instead of milk or mee rebus, it's a bunch of adults drinking coffee, eating buns and smoking out in the cold open air. They call it fika in Sweden. Fika, I realise is a very important component of the Swedish way of life. Fika is like teatime or snacktime where you sit down for coffee and a pastry or bun. And although in the textbooks, they identify fika as a night time coffee/snack, Swedes fika all through the day.

Swedes fika usually at about 9 or 10am if they are at work (I'm not so sure abt school tho recess is at 9am). This is very important to take note of especially if you intend on calling someone from the district office or town council. These people take fika very very seriously. Not hail nor state emergency will prevent them from taking their fika. And don't even bother trying to pull them away once they have started to fika. Let's just call that mission impossible.

So back to my day at school. We start our lesson at 8am and before I know it, recess time comes an hour later. I found out that it lasts 30 minutes.

30 whole minutes for FIKA?? wow...they DO take this whole fika thing seriously. I was so surprised to get such a long break so soon after the day starts. So we come back from recess at 9.30am and lessons continue. But I get another surprise today when I realise that we get another break at about 10.30am (you can Fika again if you really wish but that's too much even by Swedish standards) which lasts about 20 min.

My oh my! Such luxury...we can go to the bathroom, eat cookies, chit chat or go smoke and nobody cares. The teacher isn't even there cos he leaves the classroom every break time.

So let's recap... Class begins at 8am including the occasional late comer. An hour passes and we fika 30 minutes away. So at 9.30am, we start lessons again and come 10.30am someone will start whining for a break. If the teacher is actually in the middle of something, he will try to defer the break time for as long as he can but we certainly get it. Lesson will probably start again at about 11am or a little before and my day ends at 11.45am sharp or earlier. Has not been any later and everyone pretty much rushes out of the classroom, leaving me alone with the teacher to pack up slowly and put on my winter things. I tend to do this slower than usual cos I have half an hour before my bus comes. So what's the rush, right?

So you can call my mornings quite full...full of breaks and fika. But the half hour that I do have before my bus comes is quite appreciated since I use the time to walk to the main bus centre instead of te bus stop in front of the school. And I get to walk through the town and enjoy the sights of the small town that seems to have more things to see than tiny Askersund.

I kinda like my little walk through town and my bus ride home where I get to fall asleep if I want to. Maybe soon I may actually go walk through the small shopping mall in that town (town is called Hallsberg, by the way) and even sit down for a fika moment in the town konditori. A konditori is basically a bakery that provides seating or a cafe that bakes its own treats. A fika central! Doesn't that sound nice?

Swedish words of the day: Fika & Konditori

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.