Roadtrip!

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

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

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

Tribute To Someone Special. A Friend Now & Always.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh When the Saints Come Marching In....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amazing.

Lonely Cat Seeking Tom

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

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

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

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

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

Aawwwww....

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

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

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

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

Sussie IS IN HEAT!!

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

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

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

Today I'm Gonna Talk About School

When I was in the B class, our classroom was situated in an adjoining building that is taller (by one floor) and facing a different direction so the move from A class to B class was an extremely pleasant one seeing how great a location my classroom had. It was on the top floor of the taller building and I believe faces south so we don't get the rising morning sun shining right into our faces. Plus of cos the teacher I had, Klas, is the nicest and most fun teacher in the school. At least he jokes around with us, shows an active interest in our lives and is sympathetic to any difficulties we may have.

That is something strongly lacking in Anita, my teacher now. No jokes, no interest, no sympathy. And the classroom faces east so it's blindingly bright during the morning lessons.

But back to my B class. The classroom is much airier and brighter (in a not blinding kinda way) which psychologically speaking creates a better environment for learning. I sit right at the back next to Knut who's from Germany. That's him in the far left of the classroom picture. I sit there too but he gets the window seat. Damn...

See just how wonderful the view is from all those windows? The view overlooks the way to the outskirts of town so one sees more of the train tracks, older style houses and wide open fields.

The view below is what I can see from my window. Interestingly, this picture was taken in the Spring on easter week. It must have snowed more in that one week than it did in the entire month of January!

We had a little of an impromptu feast in class on Wednesday before Easter. The day before, Som, the Thai lady who lives in Askersund as well, came over to my apartment so we could bake cinnamon buns. And since we had to wait so long for the rising of the dough, we decided to bake muffins in between as well. So the next day we brought the buns and muffins. Vlasta, the Slovenian lady who sits next to Som, brought a loaf of traditional Slovenian nut bread and Klas had brought a large bag of Easter goodies for all of us. So I guess it was perfect timing that everyone brought all that food on the same day.

The B class was the biggest class in the school at the time I was in it. And it was made up of very interesting characters. The guy to the far left is Latiff and he is from Malaysia but unfortunately wenever got the chance to really chat to each other. Our longest conversation was on that day when I handed out the muffins and he asked me, 'Is this kek pisang?' and I said no. And we both laughed. And for those of you interested to know what Muthana looks like, he is the guy with the beard and hat in the far right of the picture.

In the spirit of introducing the sights and people of school, I now present to you, Leif, my teacher from A class. He is also the man who gets called the slow talker cos he talks oh so slowly which is a direct opposite of Klas who talks like a speeding train. It's quite funny that Klas calls Leif a super slow talker and Leif jokes that Klas talks too much and too fast. I do have to agree with what someone said before about my classes, I have a lot of 'Mind Your Language' moments be it with the teachers or the students. It's fun!

For those interested, I am not planning on ever taking a picture of Anita simply cos I don't want to go thru having to actually ask her. Ugh...it's too intimidating.

Sussie Thaws..

Sussie's new favourite spot has changed from under the sofa in the livingroom to a corner in the kitchen under the short stepladder we have. Therefore, I moved her bed from the livingroom to that spot in the kitchen and she finally began using it. I also moved her litter box from the livingroom to another corner in the kitchen which had been our plan all along.

It's become almost a ritual now every night when I'm in the kitchen and Sussie's in there with me, I will start playing with her or feeding her a treat that she loves. She gets that treat once almost everyday cos her 'mummy' is such a softie and can't bear to see her without it. Sussie is no longer as afraid of me or Mathias as she was before. I think she's starting to feel comfortable in the apartment and has finally accepted us as her owners although she is still too afraid for complete submission and has to be coaxed before she will let us pet her.

But the great news is that we can finally pet her! Her trust issues with humans, having been abandoned when she was young and later being captured in a trap had really made her afraid of people so her being at this level of affection with us is just fantastic progress. One can tell that she really craves the affection and petting from us but she's afraid to come close so it takes time but she does come. And I think she actually knows her name cos she turns when we call out to her but not when I'm calling Mathias or talking to him.

She's such a smart kitty!

Her favourite game now is for us to throw her favourite toy to her onto the bed so she can play catch with it among the pillows and quilts. It's funny how among all her toys, her favourite is the cheapest thing that Mathias just put together. It is actually a newspaper page that he folded into a small rectangle and tied to the end of a long piece of cotton twine.

She absolutely loves it! She especially loves string and chewing on it. It's oh so cute when one watches her trying to hold on to the string between both paws to chew on it while attempting to remain upright on just the back paws. And she is funny to watch when she's busy chasing her own tail on our bed, running like a kitty on ecstasy back and forth in the livingroom and when she's trying to decide whether come close and let us pet her. She literally walks back and forth trying to decide if she feels good enough to come close to us. But she's a cute kitty with a small face, big ass ears and a long body.

Sometimes I wonder if she'll grow into those ears. One never knows.

The Heat Is On

The heat is on in school now that I'm in C class, which pretty much takes the fun and sucks the life out of school. The schedules have changed which means that I now have afternoon classes for 3 of the 4 days of school each week on top of my morning classes. To be honest, I really wouldn't mind that so much if I liked my teacher more. I really don't like Anita. She's intimidating, very strict, never really understands when we ask questions and pretty much only hears what she wants to hear.

Anita got really frustrated today with one of my classmates, Muhammad. He's from Iraq and has trouble with his pronounciation especially with the vowels cos most of them sounds so alike that sometimes one can't really hear the difference. Of course when one is just starting out to speak the language and speaks it slowly and in broken sentences, the teacher can catch bad pronounciation a lot better. And catch she did! She spent a good 10 minutes just trying to get him to pronounce between 2 vowels to the point where you could tell she was getting so frustrated with him.

And it all started with an innocent question posed by oh so silly Muhammad of what that particular word (that he couldn't pronounce right) meant. After the 10 frustrating minutes, Anita asked him 'Förstår du nu?' (Do you understand now?). And Muhammad smiled and said, 'Ja, jag vet. Jag vet. Men vad betyder det?' (Yes, I know. I know. But what does it mean?). And we burst out laughing cos those 10 minutes didn't really affect Muhammad as much as it frustrated Anita. Plus the fact that the word was bloody difficult to explain. What's the word you ask? Well, it is RÅKAR which means IT HAPPENS in English. You know, like when someone drops a plate sending it crashing to the floor and all you can say is, it happens. Yeah, how does one explain that to another who doesn't speak any language you speak?

Ha ha! Serves that wicked witch from the West right!

And I just got bad news from her. It appears that we most likely have to attend about 10 weeks of C class before we can move on up to D class. Damn...9 more weeks of her...ugh! But a large part of me knows that it is for our own good and I accept that. I'm even relieved that I have so much time before moving on to the final level of school. At least I'll learn more and get more used to the language. But in C class it is more about building up our vocabulary and understanding longer pieces of text which is great but one gets so so tired of flipping a thousand times through the book for every piece of text. I really do feel mentally and physically exhausted when I get home from school.

Today was my 2nd day in my new 3rd level class. The majority of the class (11 out of 13 actually) came from my 2nd level class so we know each other and everyone's idiosyncracies which makes lessons fun since the teacher, Anita is pretty strict and rather rigid. She reminds me of my discipline mistress in secondary school, Mrs Veronica Siaw. Well at least Anita is not mad about Rocco Barocco and doesn't wear nightgowns to school.

We aren't allowed to talk or help out classmates who are stuck in a question. She keeps saying, 'Jag prata inte på dig, eller hur? Jag prata med honom. Bara honom.' (translated: I'm not talking to you, am I? I'm talking to him, only him.). Oooh..tough lady. Not to say that she doesn't smile or laugh but just like Mrs Siaw, the smiles and laughs come from her own jokes (which other people don't necessarily find very funny).

There is an Iraqi man in my class called Muthana and he was the source of all our humour today. I would say that Muthana is a special sort of man, found mostly in the Arab world and certainly amusing to the common man (unless you're his teacher). Muthana is a man who will tell you things whether you want to know or not. He wants you to know he understands and he adds on to whatever the teacher says just to show how clever he is. Unfortunately, he is not all that clever and most of the time, his additions are inappropriate or simply do not make sense. I'm not sure if it's his thick accent when he speaks Swedish or just that he can't put a proper sentence together but I honestly can't understand 80% of what he says. And he usually repeats what he says (which are usually singular words or 2 word sentences) twice in a row.

Anita was trying to go through a piece of text and explaining difficult words to the class but of cos Muthana being the way he is, cuts in so often that Anita has learnt to ignore his sudden bursts of something, which hasn't stopped him. He likes referring to his dictionary and showing Anita the word she was trying to explain to show that he got it. Hai...at least he's the comic relief in class.

During one of our breaks, I was sitting with Vlasta, Knut and Nadine in class when Muthana came up to us with textbook in hand asking what the answers are (at least that's what I think he was asking). We tried to tell him that he's not allowed to write in the textbook and we haven't done any of those exercises cos it's not even the right chapter. But all he said when we told him he has to write his answers on paper and not in the book was, 'Jag vet. Jag vet. blah blah blah....' (translation: I know. I know. ..gibberish..). Then finally Khaldoun, another Iraqi in our class (whom I think is pretty attractive looking), stepped in and told him in Arabic that he can't write in the textbook. Guess what? Muthana still kept on saying, 'Jag vet. Jag vet...arabic blah blah...'. Finally Khaldoun couldn't take it anymore and went off saying he didn't understand what Muthana was saying either. And once again he flew down on us and once again we tried telling him to write his answers on paper (more people got involved this time) when finally..I think a lightbulb went off in his head and he turned to us and asked, 'Jag kan inte skriver här?' Jag måste skriver bara där?' (translation: I can't write here *points to textbk*? I can only write there *points to workbk*?)

Finally the man got it!! And he went away.

After the break, Anita went on to a different exercise where we had to fill in the blanks and she called upon us one by one to give her the answers to the various sentences. But everytime she called on Muthana to give the answer, he not only gave her the answer to his question but also the rest of the answers which of cos made the rest of us laugh since Anita had reminded us at least twice before to answer just our own question. One could see the exasperation rising in her eyes but even though she got even more strict with us, at least she doesn't raise her voice...well maybe just a little.

Once Muthana gave her the right answer but pronounced it wrongly. Anita tried correcting him but standing in front of him and getting him to repeat what she said which in itself is a challenge.

Anita: Titta på mig. Pen-väs-sare. Sa pen-väs-sare. (translation: Look at me. Pe-cil-shar-pener. Say pen-cil-shar-pe-ner.)

Muthana: Jag vet. Jag vet. Pen-vas-säre. Jag vet! (t: I know. I know. Pencil-sher-pa-ner. I know)

Anita: Nej Muthana. Väs-sa-re. Inte vas-säre.

Muthana: Jag vet. Vas-säre. Pen-vas-säre. Och rak-nä-re *answer to the next qn*. (t: I know. Sher-pa-ner. Pencil-sher-paner. And culcalator.)

Anita: Sigh...Muthana (by this time the rest of the class have started laughing and some tried helping.), pen-väs-sare. Titta på mig. Pen-väs-sare.

Muthana: Jag vet. Jag vet! Pen-vaas-säre!

Anita: Hai...Nasta fråga, Tatsawan *girl sitting behind Muthana*? (t: Sigh..next question, Tatsawan?)

Muthana is a man in his own little world where his way is the best way and everyone should just accept that that is the way Muthana is. Not many things in whichever language can really go into him cos he's so stubborn and sure of his answers.

So we let him be. So long as he doesn't write in the damn textbook!

A friend once asked me to show and tell my new home. How my apartment looks like, how the town looks like and just how everything is like here. It definitely is very different from Singapore in almost every way but that doesn't necessarily mean something negative.

The conveniences found in Singapore and especially in Holland Village where I had lived all my life certainly cannot compare to Askersund. But the charm found in both places are certainly fight for top place in my heart. Holland Village has the rustic charm of a small, hip estate with its small streets and numerous restaurants and cafes (something I absolutely LOVE about HV). And while Askersund is FAR from hip and its small streets are not cramped with restaurants and cafes, it does hold its own brand of charm. It has a natural charm accentuated by the lake and sudden bursts of forest every now and again.

But I do love the location of our apartment and largely bcos of that I am not planning on buying a house anytime soon. And husband agrees with that (thank goodness!). Our apartment is just behind the town district building that faces the town square so we are really close to the pulse of town. I really like the town square with its cobble stoned streets and old style buildings. The middle of the square is now a large parking lot and it's also where the town places its Christmas tree...a huge, tall thing that reaches up to the tallest building on the square.

In the summer, there is a fountain with a big statue in the middle of it spewing out water right in front of one of the 2 town bakeries, the bookstore and a hair salon. But in the winter, they remove the statue. I didn't even know that one could do that! So now it just looks like a huge tub in the middle of town. I think they'll put the statue back come summertime and then I'll upload a picture with the fountain fully installed, water and all. We live to the right of the fountain and husband works in a store to the left of the fountain so that makes things very convenient in terms of travelling to work.

Husband dear works in an electrical appliance store called Åhlins and for such a small town, the store actually does quite well. And even though it means that he works slightly longer hours and on most Saturdays, I still like the fact that he works so close to home and he doesn't need to drive so much now. We save money AND the environment! They wear a uniform there which is the same colour as the front entrance, blue. But he and another colleague of his, Anton, choose to wear a bright red fleece jacket over the nice blue polo t-shirt which I frankly think makes husband look a tad too gay for my taste. For some reason Anton seems to be able to carry it off a little more manly-ish than Mathias can. Hmmm...I wonder why....?

Every once in a while, there is an old guy called Ova who comes in who works at the local recycling plant. He's famous or rather infamous in town and many of the stores and cafes use him when ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. Ova used to work as a trashman but he's retired now and works part time at the nearby recycling plant. In his spare time (which he has a lot of), he works for some of the stores here including Åhlins collecting all the big and card board trash like boxes and old TVs or fridges. He is a very interesting character for oh so many reasons but mostly cos he's not the cleanest man in town (with horrifically gross blackish nails), his one of a kind greeting to anyone he deems deserving which sounds more like a muppet with a stuck nose and his oh so unique sense of humour.

He can go up to someone and as a form of greeting just show them his thumb and index finger like one would measure how much is an inch apart. And if that someone foolishly proceeds to ask him what that means, he casually explains that that is the distance between a woman's anus and her p**sy. And then he will laugh and walk away. Why anyone would find that funny is anybody's guess but since he (like bugs) is so vital to the everyday running of the town, he gets away with it. But nobody really wants him in their store, especially the cafe owner who quickly makes Ova his usual cup of coffee and a bag of pastries (work benefits) when he sees Ova's car round the corner. The cafe owner would then proceed to walk out to Ova even before the fellow has come out of his car to pass him his coffee and freebies. The old man thinks it's respect but everyone knows it's for the sake of their own health. Heh heh.... In the picture, he is bald and clean shaven but please do not be fooled. He is usually scruffy with messy hair under a dirty hat with a long dirty looking gray beard. Mathias found out the reason why he was so clean shaven that day he took the picture (as evidence that Ova can look relatively clean) is bcos he had some rash on his head and shaving everything off just made it easier to put the cream on his head. But that is just a temporary thing, he assures. And that is his false teeth sticking out cos when Mathias told him to pose, he ask 'Teeth in or teeth out?'. And like any normal human being husband had thought he meant to smile or not to which the man foolishly says 'Teeth out'. So of cos, with his brand of humour, Ova the trashman pulled out his false teeth and let it dangle for the camera.

Next time I will tell you about 2 other interesting characters of the town, Fat Lena and Dottie. And also feature the best part of town, its harbour! Till then....

When I first started school 7 weeks ago, I gave myself the time schedule of graduating from Class A in 2 months and being moved up to Class B. Who would have thought that I would move ahead of schedule and get to the B class within 3 weeks. And now after spending 4 weeks in Class B I have been told that I will start in Class C next week after the Easter holidays.

Wow...I guess all that studying and headaches of the tests worked out well for me. I have realised that I do much better in terms of writing, reading out loud and understanding written text. But I still have trouble listening to conversations and speaking. And that is frustrating but I know I know..everything takes time. In our last lesson, Klass the teacher wanted to have one last test with those who will be moving to Class C (there will be 10 of us). He wanted to have a one on one conversation with us. Uh oh, I thought. That can go bad. But it turned out quite alright. I am used to the way Klas speaks so I can understand most of what he says. But I did tell him that I do have trouble with conversations and I usually can only understand 75-80% of what is said in class. And of cos he says it all takes time. But I was so pleased when he told me that I learn really quick and according to him am one of the best students in the program. Yay!! Well, I dun really believe that compliment 100% but it is pleasant to hear that.

So anyway, barely 2 months after starting school, I am now gonna start in the 3rd level (there are 4 in total). And who knows, I may graduate from all 4 levels come summertime. I know it will be easier to get a job if I have the certificate from school.

Vlasta and Knut will be moving up with me but Som, the thai lady, will have to stay unfortunately. I will miss Klass a lot cos I think he's such a great teacher and I will definitely miss the classroom that has a wonderful view. On our last day of school before the Easter weekend, it started snowing and the view was just spectacular! Large flakes of snow falling past the windows covering most of the road and trains and the snowfall is so thick I could no longer see the distant hills and fields. This is a view that only those in Class B has the privilege of enjoying. Hai....I will miss it.

In answer to a dear friend's questions, the shelter actually told us she likes prawn cheese so I guess it is safe to give her that. And I think it's chocolate that is toxic to dogs and cats. Anyway, they also told us that she likes ham but since we don't eat pork here, I tried chicken ham and she loved it!

Too bad I still can't pet her yet cos she's still so afraid of people. She was an abandoned kitten that they had to catch using a trap so she's got major trust issues. But she is not too afraid that she will be a difficult pet. Her sister Alana on the other hand, will be a very difficult pet. That kitten is even more afraid of people and hisses everytime someone tries to get close. Either that or she hides away and never comes out. Sussie is a super curious cat so she still comes out to check out the place and smell things.

It appears that Sussie is more of a night prowler than anything else. She seems very inactive during the day time and spends the hours under the sofa sleeping. Actually I heard her snoring away yesterday. So cute!! She is definitely a part of the family since snoring runs heavily in the Sjöberg clan. Grandma Sjöberg can no longer stand to sleep in the same room as Grandpa and Father Sjöberg has to use some Darth Vader looking device when he sleeps cos he snores so bad. Young Mr Sjöberg is just lucky that his wife sleeps like the dead and doesn't even notice his snoring unless she gets up to pee at night. Then she realises the extent of snoring...it's LOUD!

So anyway, Sussie comes out to play and curious after about 6 or 7 in the evening. but she doesn't come out if we are in the room. She boldly comes out from under the sofa if we are not in the livingroom and then once she's out she goes exploring. We leave almost all the doors open so she can explore and feel comfortable and comfortable she is certainly becoming. We found her on our bed last night, happily relaxing amidst the comfy comforters. but of cos as is Sussie, she ran away the moment any of us entered the room. So we left her be as we watched TV in the livingroom.

Husband says that Sussie is in a bit of a dilemma now. She is still very shy of people and will run away whenever we get too close. She doesn't let us pet her and she doesn't feel comfy enough yet to letus play with her. But every now and again she meows out loud for us if she can't find us or she knows that we are looking for her to tell us where she is. Husband says that she so badly wants our attention and affection but she is too scared and shy to come close to us.

Ah..dilemma dilemma dilemma...

She seems to find the computer chair a very comfortable spot nowadays. Last night while I was in the kitchen and husband was in the toilet, I started looking for her but I couldn't find her in all the usual places. Seeing how small the apartment is, I was baffled and wondered where she was. I decided to give her her space and went back into the kitchen. Suddenly I heard a loud meow from the livingroom and when I went out to look, I realised she was sitting on the computer chair. I didn't see her cos the computer chair is black!! All I could see were her 2 bright eyes even though the lights in the living room were switched on...amazing.

Mathias told me that she tricked him this morning after I had left for school. He was sitting in front of the computer when he heard a loud meow from the window. So he went over to check on Sussie when suddenly he heard a scurry and realised that she had run to the computer chair and sat down! But of cos when he came close, she ran away. So he went back to the computer when a few minutes later he heard a loud melancholic meow from the window again. Not knowing that it's a once bitten twice shy moment, husband went over to the window AGAIN to check on her. And AGAIN he heard a scurry across the room and in seconds the computer chair was occupied again. So he gave up and got ready to go to work.

She's so smart right?? Now..if only she'll let us come close.

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!