WeekX: Dog Biscuit or Cow Parsley?

This picture could have been taken in Sweden, but the location is Glynde in Sussex. One thing I really miss about Sweden is the nature and I often forget that there's nature in England too ... My friend James took me on a 7 mile* walk from Lewes to Glynde and back, a walk featured in the guide book "Cheeky Walks in Brighton & Sussex". Although 7 miles turned into 9 miles after we got  lost and bumped into a sign saying "private property". My legs are still burning from stinging nettles and it was a bit worrying seeing another sign saying "save the gorillas" ...

Talking about animals we also saw lots of cow parsley or "dog biscuit" (hundkex) as the white flower is called in Swedish. After ten years of living on and off in England I still haven't learnt many plant names. I should get out more ... In nature that is. Let's hope my remaining four Swenglish hosts in England like trees and bees and green things in general.

*about 11 kilometres. (I can't get used to  the English way of sticking to their own measurements. It's extra confusing as 10 kilometres = 1 Swedish mile and 1 English mile = 1,6 kilometres, so when James first asked if I wanted to come on a 7 mile walk, I was automatically thinking 70 kilometres!

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Week11: Off the Wall

This is the most scary thing I've done so far during my Swenglish adventure ... The person I'm staying with this week is more sporty than I thought ... As if last nights climb wasn't enough she woke me up at 7am today to go for a run! It feels like I'm training for the Olympics or something.

I'm trying my best to keep up with the life-styles of my hosts, but some weeks are more challenging than others ... I know I cheated with the sea swimming, so at least I can take pride in climbing up a wall.


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Week11: On the Road

A lot of the people I’ve stayed with so far have been writers of some sort, so this week makes a refreshing change as I’m spending time with a saleswoman. To be able to come to a work meeting with her, I had too dress up as a businesswoman myself: swapping my Dr Martens and leather jacket for flat shoes and a smart cardigan. I felt quite nervous and out of place, but loved the drive to the meeting.

Sitting in the car I tried to think of the differences between English and Swedish roads and driving. The only obvious difference is that the English drive on the left which I’m used to after going everywhere on my bike in my ”old life”. It only gets a bit confusing at roundabouts, I’m never quite sure which way to go ... I do have a driving license, but when people ask if I drive I usually say no. To drive in a small town in Sweden is different to hitting the motorway ”on the wrong side” in England. Another difference is traffic jams, it seems to be more of them in England, but then there are 62 million people living in the UK compared to 9 million people in Sweden ...

My host is a very good safe driver and I think most English people are as polite in the traffic as they are in shops. The only thing that worries me is that it tends to be more drunk driving in England than in Sweden. The drink-drive limit in the UK is 0,8 promille compared to 0,2 in Sweden ...

PS. the pics of me in as a businesswoman didn't turn out very well. I'm obviously not made for it ...

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WeekX: Snakebite

I'm asking everyone I'm staying with what their favourite drink is and so far real ale and red wine seem to be the most popular drinks, but I've also had a few odd favourites like Bloody Mary and Prosecco among my answers.

My own favourite alcoholic drink is Snakebite & Black (half lager and half cider with a splash of black currant). Not all bars will serve it though because they fear you might get too drunk as Snakebite tastes a bit like squash.  And I've never managed to get a Snakebite in a Swedish pub, so I sometimes make it at home.

This week I'm having a break from Swenglish which means I can drink exactly what I want as I usually try to drink whatever my host is drinking (or not drinking). The best places to get a Snakebite in Brighton are the Caroline of Brunswick, Prince Albert and the Hobgoblin.

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Interview on Kingston Green Radio about Swenglish

Please click here to listen to me being interviewed by Sean Creed on Kingston Green Radio

 (The interview starts 22 minutes into the show)

Week10: Wildlife

I thought that staying in a house with two kids, two cats, mice and fish would be enough wildlife for me to cope with, but on the Bank Holiday Monday my host and her family took me to the British Wildlife Centre outside Lingfield.

The animals in England are pretty lame compared to the animals in Sweden. I wouldn’t really feel threatened by badgers, otters and foxes if I encountered them in the wild. In Sweden I’ve had my heart stopped on a couple of occasions when bumping into an elk or being close to a wild boar. I have never seen  wolf or bear or lynx, but they all live in the Swedish forest. The most exotic animal at the wildlife centre was the Scottish wildcat who can run 30 miles and hour and can’t be tamed even if you look after it as a kitten. I was also quite impressed by the showcase of flying owls.

During the day I tried to think about how an outing with an English family differs from an outing with a Swedish family. Having your picnic outside even if it’s cold and rainy is definitely somethng that happens in both countries. However it would be rare to have crisps with your lunch and is something I would miss if I move back to Sweden. (One of the few times I've seen portion sized crisps bags is at school discos.)

In the picture above the wildcat is about to be fed chicks for lunch. The youngest boy in the family couldn’t believe that was the same sort of chicken he was having, saying that his sliced meat was ”fake chicken”.

P.S. When we got back to the house one of the so-called domestic cats had done a runner, but was found the next day.

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Week9: Quiz Me

I’d been dreading that I would be taken to a pub quiz at some point. I like the idea of this English tradition: to gather in a pub and team up with friends and strangers alike to answers questions about anything from historical battles to the ingredients of a specific recipe. But in reality quizzes make me uncomfortable because it reminds me that my general knowledge went out of the window when I finished school. And any day I’d prefer to have a chat about weather to being trapped in a quiz for two hours.

The closest Sweden comes to quizzes are "tipsrundor" - nature trails with multiple choice questions pinned to trees. This activity normally takes place in the morning and you’re more likely to win a wooden carved horse than a bottle of wine or cash to spend in the bar. Despite my love for nature I’m not a big fan of this activity either. There’s something about playing games that I can’t get into, perhaps because I don’t care too much about winning or losing. In fact I often want to lose so I can get on with doing something else.

Yesterday wasn’t too bad though. The person I’m staying with has got a good brain. He follows the news and there are books on political, historical and social topics in his bookshelf. When he went out for a cigarette everybody had to wait for him to come back so the quiz could continue ...

There were a few questions that would be easier to answer if you grew up in England, e.g. who was the composer on the £20 note (Elgar) and which East Enders character survived being buried alive by his wife (!?). I was happy though that I knew the answer to the literature questions: in which decade the Lord of the Ring novels were first published (50s) and who the heroine was who married Mr Rochester in a Charlotte Bronte novel (Jayne Eyre).

It also helped that we were about ten people in our team and I wasn’t the only one hiding behind my glass. Funnily enough no-one at our table knew how many fluid ounces there are in a a UK pint (20). There were eight teams taking part and we came number four.

P.S. I was ashamed not to know how many stars there are on the New Zealand flag (4) as I've got NZ relatives and my brother is a flag freak!

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Week8: Caravan Fever

A lot of holidaymakers in both England and Sweden use their caravans as a second home in summer, but this week I’m staying in a caravan that is a permanent home all year round. My eighth Swenglish host has lived here for almost two years; it’s warm and cosy and feels like a mini-flat.

However after four days of rain I’m starting to suffer from cabin (caravan) fever. On top of that I’ve come down with a tummy bug and am feeling pretty weak. To my comfort, my host is treating me very well. She had even bought some green tea as she read a previous blogpost where I mentioned what I missed from my “old life”, which is how I refer to my life before I started the project. As I’m trying to copy the routines of each person I’m staying with, I’m finding out what life-styles, including food habits, I like and don’t like. Apart from green tea I also miss muesli, which my host kindly provided.

I hope I’ve recovered fully before Saturday, so I can swap tea for wine! My host is a girl who works hard and parties hard. I understand why she describes her caravan as a sanctuary and creative space, it’s truly a place to wind down. In the midst of all the rain showers I’ve witnessed a couple of beautiful sunsets. And just as I finished writing this to snap some pictures, I noticed that the sky is blue. Finally.

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Week7: Swedish Horse in English Home

Can you spot the horse, aka "Dalahäst" in the photo? Saturday my host took me to his friend's birthday party. I'm not very good at small talk, but was relieved when I spotted the traditional Swedish wooden red horse in the bookshelf, giving me a reason to ask questions. It turned out that the birthday girl had bought it when browsing e-bay for "something red and ornamental".

Originally the Dalahäst was made as a bi-product to the furniture carpentry industry in the 17th century in the county of Dalarna. The mass industry of this horse started after it had been exhibited at the World Fair in New York in 1939. However each horse is still handcrafted and hand-painted in the kurbitz-style, apparently involving nine different people. So if you want "something red and ornamental" to put in your IKEA bookshelf, why not? To read more about the history of the Dalahäst click here.

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Week7: World Famous Squares

It’s not every day I have lunch in Trafalgar Square. My seventh Swenglish person is an arts writer, and he took me round a few galleries in London. When we stopped for a sandwich in the world famous square I felt strangely happy.

To be in a place I’ve seen on TV and read about in books makes me feel connected, puts me on the map. That’s one thing I really like about living in England, to be part of the world. People all over the planet know about London landmarks, but I doubt anyone can name a square in Stockholm unless they’ve been there on holiday. 

Perhaps it’s my job to educate people, so I've inserted a picture of ”Plattan” ("The Plate"?) ,

or Sergels Torg, a famous square in the heart of Sweden’s capital. 

And as a bonus I'll give you "Dödens's  Väntrum" ("Death's Waiting Room"), 

the "big" square (stortorget) in my hometown Nässjö.

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Week6: Gaming

 

A part of Swenglish is to live the life-style of the person I'm staying with, and I'm trying to take part in as many varied activities as I can. I haven't talked to enough people yet to find out if computer gaming is more popular in England than in Sweden, but who would have thought that I'd play Battlefield and shoot people!? It's feels more "real" and is more addictive than I thought ... 

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Week6: Taking the Piss

This week I’m staying with a well-travelled guy who is fluent in JavaScript and other cryptic languages. Yesterday I went with him to The Brighton Farm, a networking group for freelancing new media types, and beforehand I was warned by another guy: ”People get pissed and abuse each other”.

It wasn’t that bad at all. Most people who go the Farm are serious about their work and have received a lot of support when building up their careers as freelancers. I overheard people asking for advice on everything from mobile apps to making promotional videos, and I went home with a couple of business cards in my pocket, but if you’re not familiar with the English expression ”taking the piss out of someone”, you might be in for a shock.

There were some people who called each other ”crazy” and did things like folding a fiver so it looked like ”the queen’s bum cheeeks”. I could give more examples, but they would be too rude to put in print.

I’d prepared myself to be bored. I’d thought the evening would be more like a meeting where people discussed HTML in detail, than a fun social event where anything goes. I chatted to a Chinese woman who had been to Sweden and found it strange that so many dark films like The Girl with the Dragon tattoo and Let the Right One In could could come out of a country that seemed so fairy-tale like on the surface. I blamed the dark Swedish soul due to the long winters, but against my will I found myself laughing along with the guys who made fun of each other’s surnames and downing pints like there was no such thing as work the next day. (Even though this netdrinking often leads to new job opportunities).

 

When I asked my host what he missed about England when he was away travelling he said, without hesitation: ”The humour. Having a cup of tea or drink with someone, having a laugh and taking the piss.’

 

According to Wikipedia “taking the piss out of someone” is an expression meaning to mock, tease, ridicule, or scoff. I also read up about the origin and there are several theories all urine-related, but as mentioned above, I want to keep this blog reasonably family-friendly, so if you’re interested you can read more here.

At the end of the night I when I took a piss (literally), I was once again amused by the dysfunctional English toilets.

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Swottish

I'm having an Easter Break from Swenglish and am spending the week in Scotland which in some ways is more similar to Sweden than England is, at least when it comes to the climate! The other day I got caught in a hail storm.

Swedish people (and a lot of other nationalities) often make the mistake of calling the whole of Great Britain "England", but Scottish people would find that very offensive! Scotland does feel like a different country especially as they've got their own Scottish banknotes and their own parliament. And I love it how everyone says "wee" instead of "little".

It's weird to be on holiday; I'm still in the mood of observing the person I'm staying with and keep taking photos of my friend. Who knows, I might include a Swottish chapter in my Swenglish book ... My friend, who lives in Edinburgh, think I should solve the Sweden-England dilemma by moving to Scotland!


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Week5: SwEngPolish Poetry

One part of Swenglish is that I do housework or other random jobs in exchange for food and a roof over my head. Since I started the project five weeks ago I've done everything from collecting firewood on the beach to cleaning a mouldy cupboard, from playing with a child to helping someone sort out an e-mail list. But my absolute favourite job so far was to translate a poem from English to Swedish, and stand in as a reader at a poetry event.

Last night I truly shadowed poet and playwright Maria Jastrzębska when she did a reading at the Pighog Press poetry event at the Red Roaster in Brighton. Maria is originally from Poland and she was supposed to read a poem in Polish at the same time as her partner read the English version, but sadly her partner wasn't very well on the day so I covered for her, reading the English bit. The poem is called At The Border and is published in Anthologia - a Polish English bilingual publication.

In the second half Maria and I did both an English and Swedish version of her poem Why do you laugh? I really enjoyed translating this dark poem and was honoured to be asked. I hope to able to do more interesting jobs like this during my Swenglish year! (But honestly I don't mind doing the washing up for people!)

To find out more about Maria and her latest poetry collection, Everyday Angels, please click here


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Week5: Cucumber Sandwiches & Fussy Tea Drinkers

When I arrived at the house of Swenglish person number 5 the kitchen looked a bit chaotic – but smelled divine – as my host and her partner were in the middle of preparing for a joint birthday party.

After a quick cup of green tea I was set on sandwich making duty: salmon and cream cheese on Polish bread, egg and cress on brown bread, and finally cucumber on white bread. First I was a bit nervous as some people are very particular about their sandwiches: the thickness of the butter, the amount of filling and which shape to cut them in, but luckily my hosts were happy with my triangular creations. 

I find cucumber sandwiches very funny as if that little bit of green would make the sandwich healthier or spice up the butter. My grandmothers in Sweden used to put half a grape on their bread rolls, but at least they had cheese to go with it.

This is the delicious sandwich, scone and cake table, but I had to wait quite a while before I could stuff myself with “Death by Chocolate” or “Rocky Road” as I was partly in charge of the tea-making which was more nerve-wracking than the sandwich making. A friend once said the following about tea: ”There’s a process in making it that you can take pride in” which make it sound just as complicated as it is.

English people are so fussy about their tea! In Sweden anyone would be happy if you handed them a black coffee, here people wanted either Breakfast Tea or Earl Grey or Rooibos or decaffeinated or something herbal or other, and if that wasn’t enough you have to deal with the strength of the tea and not to forget: the milk and the sugar:

Just a bit of milk, please

Make it very milky, please

Put in the milk first, please

One and a half tea-spoon of sugar, please

No sugar, please

I like mine quite strong, please

Don’t stew it too much, please

Leave the bag in, please

Is there any more hot water?

In the end everybody got what they wanted (hopefully!) and gathered in the sunny garden to laugh and gossip and listen to a speech by the host and a surprise ukulele performance. I’m glad I tried a scone for lunch because believe it or not – by the time the guests went home the plates and trays were empty, save the pumpkin cake which only I really enjoyed as it had the same spice mix as Swedish gingerbread. A big thank you to my hosts for letting me be part of such a lovely typical English afternoon!

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Week4: Tintin and Bad Spiderman

At 6.30am I get woken up by Spiderman – the bad black one who’s made out of yucky slugs. The good Spiderman is made of small blue and red spiders that aren’t yucky. That’s what I learnt from the 4-year-old I’m staying with this week.

To share a small space with a child and his mum is challenging as we constantly bump into each other and the furniture, but I think that’s the price you pay for living in the middle of a big city, even in Sweden.

What I really like about this week though is reading bedtime stories – or anytime stories to the little boy. It’s nice to be able to recognise characters such as Paddington and Tintin from my childhood in Sweden. Although in the Swedish version Tintin’s dog is called Milo, not Snowy as in the English translation. I’ve also read about Katie Morag, dinosaurs and the Octonauts. What surprises me is that Sweden’s most popular children’s author Astrid Lindgren isn’t very well known in England even though a lot of people have heard of Pippi Longstocking.

One thing that can make me feel really alienated about English culture is that I didn’t grow up with the same books, films and TV programmes. The nursery rhymes and songs are also different. Last week the woman I stayed with taught me Hickory Dickory Dock which she used as a an exercise to warm up her voice before doing a recording.

I better stop here because I’m off to read a Charlie and Lola-story! (Which I secretly enjoy reading to myself even after the kid has gone to bed ...)

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Week3: Sea Swimming

Sea swimming is an old tradition in England and the Brighton Swimming Club, founded in 1860, was the first club in the country.

Yvo Luna - the woman I’m staying with this week has been swimming in the sea every day for eight years and she keeps going all through the winter. Mainly she does it because of the mental health benefits it brings, and as a performer it also helps her with stage nerves.

’It’s a humbling experience,’ she says. ’To be part of something that’s bigger than yourself.’

I’ve been cycling down to the beach with Yvo in the mornings and it’s an amazing feeling to get up at seven and be by the sea before everyone else wakes up, but I’m not tempted to go in the water! At the moment the temperature is about five degrees Celsius and the swimmers stay in for ten minutes – it’s not just a quick dip as I’d expected. And Yvo is very hardcore; she doesn’t even have a hot shower after.

‘It can make you feel colder having a quick, hot shower afterwards. If I get in the shower, I don’t want to get out!,' she says, towelling herself dry. After all the sea-swimming is meant to be a Cold Water Cure.

In Sweden it’s a tradition to cut a hole in the ice in winter, have a dip in the lake and then run into a steaming hot sauna. After seeing the sea-swimmers, that’s cheating in my book.

Yvo is putting on a show in the Brighton Fringe Festival called ”Luna’s History of Madness” where she’ll talk more about the Cold Water Cure and other ways to look after mental health. So after the swimming and breakfast I usually follow Yvo to The Apple Store where she's got a work space. At the moment she's working on her press release. Very exciting!

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Week2: See You, Pet?

According to The Xenophobes guide to the English, English people are doting on their pets more than any other nation. I don’t know if this is true – my friends in Sweden who own pets are quite crazy about them too, and I don’t mind; it’s quite cute the way some people talk to and about their animals as if they were family members.

What I do mind is being called ”pet” as an affectionate substitute for ”sweetie” or ”darling” or whatever. (In Sweden you only use words like ”sweetie” or ”darling” if you’re truly fond of someone and mean it with your whole heart.) The first time some said ”Alright, pet” or ”See you, pet” I got quite upset – I’m nobody’s blooming dog! I thought it was a joke.

So far none of my Swenglish hosts have called me pet, and as I’m allergic to cats and hairy dogs I’m trying to avoid staying with people who got animals, or so I thought ...

It’s the fourth day and my current host hadn’t even mentioned any pets until today. I’d convinced myself that the tanks in the living room and bedroom were empty as I haven’t seen anything stir, but it turns out I’m sleeping under the same roof as two snakes and four spiders!


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Week2: Green Tea & The Sea

I'm not in China, but I've just moved in with my second Swenglish host and I was very happy to be offered green tea on arrival. After a week of trying to get used to rooibos tea at the last place I stayed, I've realised that I can't live without green tea.

Another thing I missed last week was the sea. You can't see it or smell it from Preston. Where I'm staying now, in Brunswick Square, I've got a sea view!

It's funny how I learn as much about myself as I do about other people through this project. I'm trying to give up my own habits and adapt other people's habits to a certain extent, and that's how I find out what I miss and don't miss about my "old" life. It does feel like a long time ago already since I was a writer who lived in Hove and worked part-time in the library.

PS. no carpet in the loo!

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Week 1: The Quirks of English Toilets

 Before I moved to England I was warned about English toilets. 

“They have carpets in the loo!” people told me, looking appalled. “What if you’re sick? Or spending a penny when you’re drunk? It’s not like you can wipe the floor with disinfectant soapy water after …”

 

The toilet in the house where I’m staying this week is to my relief carpet free, but there’s another problem: there’s no sink. 

Sometimes dirty (and I mean literally dirty) business happens in the toilet and you want to wash your hands straight after you’ve been. If the sink is located next door, this isn’t that easy; someone might be having a bath and there you stand with the p-word on your fingers not knowing what to do. Of course you could wash your hands in the kitchen sink, but that’s not very hygienic.

Another quirk about English bathrooms is that in a lot of places there are still separate taps for hot and cold water, and the hot tap is often so hot you burn your fingers. There are warning signs everywhere, but I still forget. If you just want to wash your hands it seems like a waste to put the plug in and mix the water, so most of the time I end up washing my hands in either freezing cold or scorching hot water. (But I’ve seen people having both taps on at the same time, moving their hands between them.)

I pointed out the problem with sink free toilets to the person I’m staying with and she agreed it wasn’t very convenient, but said that nowadays, for health and safety reasons you’re probably not allowed to build a room with just a toilet in it.*

She didn’t really have a comment about the separate taps as she’s so used to it, but her Swedish housemate who’s a care worker said the scorching hot water ruins his skin because he has to wash his hands all the time. And talking about health and safety, he also mentioned that mixing the water in the sink isn’t very hygienic as you wash your hands in your own dirt, a bit like having a bath which is still very popular in England. (For four years I lived in two different flats in Hove with no shower, only a bath with no shower hose!)

I think a little bit of dirt is good for you though; Swedish people tend to be too clean and that’s probably why a lot of people suffer from allergies in Sweden. I’m already excited about what the toilet conditions are going to be in the next place I’m staying. Funnily enough, after writing this, I’m almost hoping there’ll be a carpet as it will at least keep your feet warm(er).

*Just had a comment on Facebook from Liz saying "But - separate loo means not having to wait while someone finishes their shower/makeup/cleansing ritual etc." Fair enough!

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On the Road - On My Way to My First Swenglish Host

On my way to my first Swenglish host - an English woman in her late forties. To be continued!

In Limbo at Hotel Pelirocco

I've only got a couple of hours left of "freedom" before I move in with my first "Swenglish study object" in Brighton.

I was supposed to start the project yesterday, on my actual birthday, but a friend bought me a night in the Hotel Pelirocco so I decided to to stay in the Sputnik room and have cocktails with a few friends in the bar as a proper send off.

In a minute I'll check out, pick up my backpack and catch the bus to the Preston Park area where I'll be staying this week. I'm equally nervous and excited!

3 days to go until the big 30 and the launch of Swenglish

This is the week of goodbyes for me. Saturday I did my last day at Hove Library where I've worked part time for the last couple of years to support my writing.

In the picture is one of my dearest (ex) workmates Barney and I will miss him a lot. However he's one of my "Swenglish victims" and in June I'll spend a week shadowing him as he goes about his every day life, including coming to work with him. (Hopefully I'll have a bit of distance by then!)

Most of the English people I'm going to stay with live in the Brighton area, but I'll treat the project as if I'd left town to go travelling; I won't meet up with my friends, attend any writing group meetings or engage in any of my regular activities. I'll be totally in the hands of the people I'm shadowing and staying with.

I'm also saying goodbye to my housemates and the room I rent in Hove. At the moment I'm going through my clothes, putting them in "keeping", "not keeping" and "maybe keeping" piles. I'm very sad to part with my black buckle bondage trousers, but they are worn so thin you can see through the fabric in places, so it's time for them to go! After all I've had them since I was 21, back in 2003 ...

Only three days to go ... Brighton & Hove TV LTD will follow me as I move in with the first person.

2 Non Blondes - Evidence that all Swedes are Not Blonde

The best thing about The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is that this film gave the world a new image of Swedish women.

Every week, at some point, I get asked "Where are you from?" And when I say "Sweden" people do look surprised and say "But you're not blonde!"

I try to come up with imaginative answers like "Actually I'm the only Swede in the whole universe who is not blonde, you have met a very unique person".

However since The Girl with the Dragon tattoo came out people tell me that I remind them of the main character, Lisbeth Salander (from the Swedish, original version of the film). I take it as a compliment even though we're not that similar, really.

I was damned when I found out that the actor Noomi Rapace's dad was Spanish, hence her darkish  looks. But as far as I know my own parents and grandparents and their grandparents are all Swedish born and bread. I admit that my hair is not naturally as dark as in the photo, but I'm definitely not blonde. Mousy brown is closer to the truth.

I read somewhere recently, perhaps in a Lonely Planet guide, that about a third of all Swedish girls are blonde. But then it depends on what you mean by blonde; there are a lot of people with ash blonde or light brown hair. (I wonder though, if Swedish men get the same hassle, being asked why they aren't blonde. I wouldn't think so.)

Funnily enough, before moving to England, I thought that all English people had ginger hair. Perhaps this notion was based on the pictures in my English text book at school. Now I'd say that most English people have different shades of brown hair, but I could be wrong. In this day and age of hair colour explosion it's hard to tell.

Swedes Can Feel Cold Too

'But how will you get here?' the musician in Hanover asked on the phone. I had no idea what she was talking about, then realising she was referring to the snow that had fallen over the weekend. Down in Hove where I live there the ground was bare.
'I can handle it,' I said. 'I'm used to it, from Sweden.'
'Oh, I'd forgotten you were Swedish.' the musician said, which made me happy. That she thought of me as a poet and writer instead of a Swede. After all we were meeting up to collaborate on a poetry/music piece, not to eat meatballs and drink vodka.

I frequently forget that one of my best friends is South African, and it took me a year to realise another friend was half Filipino ... I'm aware that people have a need for labelling each other and I frequently get referred to as "The Swedish Girl". Most of the time I don't mind, but I don't like it when people assume certain things because you're of a certain nationality. It feels like I don't have the right to be cold because I'm Swedish which doesn't make any sense to me. Yes, I'm used to snow and a winter that last for up to six months, but I still get cold, and I've suffered more from the cold in England because the houses here aren't as well built as in Sweden with insulation and triple glazing.

I made it to Hanover without any problem and laughed at people scraping the last bit of snow off their cars to make snowballs. But I almost got as excited as an Englishman seeing the snow on the hills in the distance ...