first day in sweden!!

There is so much to say, and i'm not sure where to begin. i am well, and i write from erik's house in sweden. i had a safe and uneventful flight here on malaysian airlines, which comes with strange meals and flight attendents who wear traditional dresses and green eyeshadow. erik was waiting for me when i arrived in the beautifully scandinavian-designed stockholm airport. we ran to catch a train out to uppsala, and his mamma picked us up in town in their blue volvo station wagon. She is very kind and we're communicating in small ways through her english and my poor swedish.
My first impression of Sweden as the train passed through the countryside was that it really is as "Swedish" as I could have imagined. Does that make sense? The houses really are wooden and painted yellow and red, and flowers abound, and birch trees dot the landscape, and there really are berries everywhere! The Brattbergs home is so darling, with lots of light wood and white walls and books and houseplants. Everything is small, and European. We had a late breakfast when we arrived of delicious "ekologisk" (organic) yogurt, with homemade current jam and museli. And Erik made an awesome round loaf of bröd (bread) yesterday and we also had that with butter and good cheese. And coffee of course.
After lunch we took a walk and not 100 meters from his house are these wide open fields of wheat and pastures where sheep graze and several acres of community gardens.....which just made me drool and i loved seeing what is growing here. unfortunately, i didn't see many (ok, any) tomatoes, but there were lots of potatoes, dill, lettuce, onions, greens, flowers, and herbs. There are countless paths everywhere, and bikes abound. Klas, Erik, and I walked to the grocery store before dinner, and I knitted while the boys cooked a delious meal of salmon, asparagus, and boiled small potatoes all smothered with a buttery leek sauce. Siri came over after dinner so now i've met everyone in the family. More than ever I can't wait to improve my swedish, and I feel it will come quickly as it is all around me.
A few more interesting notes....there are little playgrounds everywhere, and wild apple trees, and the soil is dark black, and the sun set around 11 last night! There will be more news and some pictures to come. Today Erik and I will bike to town and see Uppsala! For now, coffee calls. I love and miss you all!

lists

I don't know about every else out there, but I love making lists. Activities and events of all kinds make it on to my lists. Nothing is too insignificant to be written down. The daily "to do" lists are always nice, and it feels satisfying to cross each item off as the task is completed. The meal list and grocery list is a fun one to pour over, with cookbooks strewn around to get ideas from and with the garden's bounty always in mind. I'll admit I've gone too far. In eigth grade, my first in public school, I even wrote down what I wore each day so that I could reference my list and not commit the crime of wearing the same outfit within too short a time span. Thankfully I'm over that fear and now when I find a new combination to wear I can't seem to move on and I up wearing the same thing for days. :)

These days I'm working on my packing list for Sweden, and this is indeed one of the most exciting to make. As I write my list my mind drifts to all the exciting times ahead of me and the new places I'll get to see and smell and taste and feel. I must plan for several months, in a new climate, in a fashionable society, keeping in mind that it's not a third world country (i can buy things there if i forget something, for goodness sakes!) yet remembering how expensive it is (don't forget all the basics then have to fork over extra for shampoo and undies!). I want to keep it simple, yet not constantly wish when i was there that i had brought such and such book or picture or drawing supplies. For all you world travelers out there, what are the essentials included on your lists? What are the special luxeries you always like to bring along? And advice is welcome!

children's literature

I am already in love with Elsa Beskow, though we've just become acquainted. She was a Swedish author who wrote and illustrated children's books in the first half of the 20th century. Since I met my Swedish boyfriend Erik and am now soon moving to Sweden myself, I have become mildly obsessed with anything Swedish. I know the grass seems (fill in the blank: greener, more special, beautiful, interesting, European) on the other side, but it really seems that a lot of what comes out of Sweden is just plain wonderful. A friend of mine named Janke, a fellow lover-of-all-things-Swedish, first introduced me to Beskow, and she showed me the old copies of the books (translated into Dutch as she is from Holland) that she read to her children. The books drew me in. Elsa Beskow's illustrations are simple and breathtaking. Her stories are rooted in nature and inspire children to romp around in the woods and use their imaginations.
I happened to find an old copy of Pelle's New Suit in the library the other day. It tells the tale of a little boy who shears his pet lamb, exchanges weeding in his grandmother's garden for her to spin the wool, chops the tailor's wood so he will make the suit, and in the end Pelle says to his lamb:
"Thank you very much for my new suit, little lamb."
"Ba-a-ah," said the lamb, and it almost sounded as if the lamb were laughing.

This story gives children important lessons about the process of making clothing, and it shows them the value of exchanging labor for labor instead of always paying money. Pelle didn't spend a dime on his new suit. Instead, he spent the whole day helping his grandmothers and neighbors, working hard and lessening their load in exchange for their skills (carding, spinning, weaving, sewing) on his suit.
Elsa Beskow has written many adorable children's books; check out Peter in Blueberry Land and Children of the Forest to see more of her work. Her books are definitely already on my (future) children's booklist. :)

the detailed hospitality of l'abri

I imagine most people, like me, have felt the desire at some point in life to take time out to really rest... in every sense of the word. To feel no guilt in taking the time for quiet reflection. To consider what you are living for and what you really believe in the deepest part of you. Rarely is this yearning able to be realized, for we are always in the middle of a million things, and people need us and school and work calls us to continue plugging away at our lives at a faster pace. L'abri fellowship, a shelter for weary souls situated in the Swiss Alps, provides those who come with a unique opportunity to rest and reflect, and the atmosphere there is a large part of l'abri's ability to facilitate such rest. I am so thankful for the few months I spent at l'abri last fall, and I often remember those months with an impossible wish to be instantly transported back to that place and time. I won't for a moment pretend that 35 people living in one chalet isn't often loud with bursts of laughter and ping pong tournaments and hectic with meals for hungry 20-somethings involving pots of soup so big you could drown in them and 7 loaves of homemade bread. Yet, even with the hectic times there exists at l'abri a feeling that sitting and reading for several hours if desired is entirely appropriate and not at all a waste of one's time. Or that spending an evening knitting and listening to someone read aloud is a perfect idea, or that stopping for long, meaningful conversations during the day should occur regularly. In fact, though in our day to day lives we often experience guilty feelings for indulging in what may not be "official" important work, l'abri makes activities like sitting and talking with friends while sharing nibbles on a bar of chocolate seem like one's calling.

I think this aspect of life at l'abri is brought about partly by the way small things are given attention. This shows that nothing is too insignificant to deserve our time and effort. When I first arrived, weary from a long flight and a gorgeous train ride that forced my sleepy eyes to stay open, I was shown where I would sleep and I was struck with the neatly made bed I was directed to with a towel folded on the foot of it with a small piece of swiss chocolate on top of that. Someone had taken the time to prepare for my coming, and I felt welcome because of their effort. As I made my way into the main gathering room at l'abri, I was invited to join the other students for tea time, which i soon learned was a twice daily occurance. No matter how much work there was to be done, at 11:00 am and 4:30 pm, hot tea (black and herbal) with milk, sugar and cookies on the side, was served on a little cart which was wheeled out of the kitchen. Whoever was on work duty gathered at Chalet Bellevue to relax for 1/2 an hour. A ping-pong game often followed tea, and usually someone picked up a guitar to strum a little or sat at the piano to play. This first tea time immediately struck me as something to note for my future...something to include in my own life own day.

One of the first meals I helped prepare at l'abri was memorable because of the details involved. Every evening meal involved candles lit and the table set just so, but this late september evening we finished preparing the food early, so my friend merrie and i were sent on the important mission of collecting wildflowers for the table. As we hiked along the small roads and trails alongside the steep cow pastures, listening to the tinkering of cow bells and carefully searching for the last few flowers before the frost, I felt that there was nothing more pressing to be doing, nothing more urgent or significant than gracing the table with flowers. I imagined that Edith Schaeffer would have done just the same thing when she was there managing the meals. I believe that Edith largely created this atmosphere at l'abri of detailed hospitality, which most importantly involved caring about individual people. This is true hospitality. No matter what material things are able to be offered to a friend or stranger, a listening, caring ear and a loving word is what we all need most. L'abri managed to provide both listening ears and an atmosphere where beauty was valued, and for that i am thankful and inspired to do the same.

The Revolution will not be Microwaved

I stole this title from a book by Sandor Katz, the talented author of Wild Fermentation who has recently published this second work. I am only on page 32, but already I have learned so much and his enthusiastic writing propells me forward. The book is about food, to say it succinctly, but its message reaches in its relevance to nearly all areas of our lives. He takes a close, and therefore often disheartening, look at the current state of food production and consumption in America. But he also tells the stories of grassroots movements which are making incredible changes in the way some people are eating.

I have been interested in food and in the organic farming movement for several years now, and I have spent 2 summers working on small scale, chemical-free veggie farms. When I first entered this world I experienced a huge epiphany that as I dug my fingers through the healthy soil and ate the strawberrys from plants I had carefully placed in the ground, went something like wow, i can really grow food all by myself! this isn't so complicated....plants want to grow, and....mmmm...this [insert: pesto, tomato sandwhich, stawberry rhubard jam] tastes amazing!! i am so dirty but i feel so happy and fulfilled and i have the skills to actually do things!

Now I feel a second epiphany coming on. As I become more educated in what is good for our bodies and souls and planet and as I gain more experience in the garden, I feel more sure of the absolute importance and central role that good food should play in our lives. In the past, everyone was involved in the history of the food on their plate. Less than a century ago people could not have comprehended the ease in which we can purchase and eat food today. Everyone had a garden, and people bought what they couldn't grow mostly from local farmers. One ate seasonally: radishes in the spring, tomatoes in the summer, and home-canned vegetables and potatoes in the winter. There were no semi-trucks bringing New Yorkers raspberries from California in February. Now we have been apparently freed from this drudgery of farming. We have the luxury of fast food restaurants around every corner and an endless supply of oil and cheap labor to bring us everything we want to eat at all times. I too enjoy convience and flexibility in my diet, but I sincerely believe that each of us should return to our agricultural roots in some degree or another and become participants and not merely consumers when it comes to our food.

There are so many reasons to start caring, grow a garden, and buy your vegetables in season at the farmer's market. I'll just mention one today to keep this blog from becoming a short novel. Our health is an obvious reason. Did you know that in 1989 the money Americans spent on healthcare surpassed what they spent on food? This alarming trend has continued to grow. It is not a surprising statistic when we consider that conventional, widespread agricultural methods today involve genetically altered plants and large amounts of pesticides, designed to kill plants, insects, and soil organisms. Is it shocking that cancer rates have soared the past 50 years as our use of chemicals in every day life has increased? And it makes sad sense that our food has few nutrients left in it when we realize that our food is laregly eaten in processed form and when "fresh" is still shipped from miles away and is days and weeks old when consumed. And beyond our own health we must consider the health of those involved in bringing us the out-of-seaons luxuries. Tomato pickers in South America who bring us this late-summer vegetable in the winter are often women, including pregnant and breast-feeding mothers who transfer pesticides from their hands to their babies, resulting in birth deformities and serious health problems in their young children. To end on a positive note, where changes are made and people in an area being eating more local, organic food, the results are real and exciting. Some schools in the US have school garden programs and connections with local farms, and when children are served fresh, local food, perfomances soar and behavior problems dwindle.

Stay tuned for more posts about food as I dig through this book and get inspired by the tomatoes growing in our garden at home.

un café, s'il vous plaît

This being my first post and my first blogging attempt ever, I feel a sort of pressure to write in these few paragraphs something which perfectly defines me, or at least something serious in nature. However, I came across this photo of me and two friends at a café in Geneva, and ever since I cannot get my mind off of the subject of coffee, specifically my coffee experiences in Europe. So I will give in, though this does not mean that coffee, per se, is the defining element of my life. On the other hand, it is of utter importance, and in the last several months I have grown increasingly picky in my coffee tastes and in my desire for the perfect experience surrounding its consumption.


While living in tiny Huémoz, Switzerland last fall, I came to know and love the perfect cup of coffee which was served at any café I would enter. First to note is that not once when entering a café was I served coffee in a paper "to go" cup. Instead, the delightful sound of the clinking of real cups and saucers would greet my ears when I stepped inside, and I feel that drinking out of authentic dishes really does add to the enjoyment and flavor of one's drink. These cups were never too big either, as the above photo exemplifies. Good, strong, almost creamy in nature coffee never needs a extra tall grande whatever size cup to prove its worth. Each café had unique cups, usually white but with a small, cute design of some sort painted on it. Beside the coffee on the saucer would always lie something special and small, either a tiny biscuit or even better, a piece of Swiss chocolate.

Since returning from Europe a few months ago, I began to be immediately dissatisfied with the typical coffee I was served here in the States. Too big, too watery, no cute cups, no cute foreign waiter who comes to you while you relax at your table, and no chocolate. Even when I tried to make that perfect cup of coffee at home, it just wasn't the same. I wanted something like a cross between a very strong, rich espresso, and a regular coffee. To my rescue came my wonderful Swedish boyfiend Erik, who without knowing of my dire situation, purchased a stovetop espresso maker for me for no special occasion complete with a milk frother and espresso grounds (from Sweden, so I got to look at the cool writing on the can for the....umm...2 weeks that it lasted). All semester long I never ceased to be delighted with my new morning ritual. Roll out of bed, get dressed for class, and head to the kitchen to get my espresso started. After the water and grounds are placed in the maker, it is set on the stove and after a few minutes the dark gold comes flowing into the top part of the beautiful silver contraption as a result of steam pressure. I heated whole milk on the stove to froth and add to the espresso so as to bring the creamy side out of the drink and squelch any bitterness. I know I'm a little wimpy to add milk to my espresso. In Italy I got such disappointing looks from the café workers when I would request cream.

But drinking coffee is about much more than the flavor on your tongue. Just as important is the social factor involved. Though coffee is always enjoyable in solitude, there is something so perfect about slowing down, sitting down with friends, and enjoying a few minutes of chatting over coffee. Granted there are days we don't have that luxury. But I believe that it should be more common than not to have those moments during the day where we set aside our work and enjoy the sweet fellowship of friends, only made better by the parfait café.