I need a new hat

I told my Swedish teacher my "Fel mossa!" story this week, and without hesitation he said, "Nu är det Ski-VM i Oslo och norrmännen är fienden…"

In the meanwhile, things have gotten much worse. Much, much worse. I assume everyone has been keeping up with the events unfolding in Oslo—how could you not, with the constant television coverage?—but in case you missed it, the end of the men's relay is worth watching. Petter Northug, (the Norwegian) is in red, Marcus Hellner (the Swede) in white; Northug's antics start just after he tops the last hill about 35 seconds in, but the real insult comes just after the 50 second mark.



Surely no one noticed that, right? Well, maybe one or two people…

On the bright side, the spring sales have started, so I'm sure I can buy myself a more appropriate hat.

At least I looked a little Swedish

So today marks a real milestone in my life: my first job interview for a non-academic position, and an interview held in a foreign language at that.

When I was offered to have a job interview with Livsmedelsverket, I had answered the phone and then set up the time in English. The potential boss, who called me, and who would be doing the interview along with three others, said that it would be okay for us to have the interview in English. But somehow, when I got there this morning and said hello and a few other words in Swedish to him, he decided that there was no reason not to do the whole thing in Swedish. "Men du får svara på engelska, det går bra," he said.

Well thank goodness for that, at least, because I can muddle through "Hej, hur läget?" and "Dåligt väder idag" okay, but discussing science, or using what some folks might call good grammar, is just a tad beyond my feeble skills at this point. (But I should say thank goodness also for the last few weeks of physical therapy I have been doing, because the therapists have been insisting to do everything in Swedish, with the result that I feel quite a bit more confident about my listening skills than I did even at the start of the year.)

Of course I was told during the initial phone contact that it would be better if I spoke Swedish, so to make up for the fact that I do not, I made up my mind to look as Swedish as possible. And I think I did that pretty well, at least. Everyone else was also wearing jeans and comfortable shoes.

For some reason, I have just now remembered that my father, when feeling playful, likes to credit me with single-handedly inventing the saying "If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullroar."

Well, I gave it my best shot, and I think maybe I will get a little extra credit for at least trying in Swedish. And every interview is good practice for the next one. For instance, in the future I will be better prepared for the question "What would you do if you had your day planned out but your boss came to you and wanted you to do something else?"

My answer was "Well, I would probably do it."

To which their response was: "Probably?" (chortles all around the table)

Hmmm. Well, so we'll just see how that goes.

Bad Hat!

Update: I should have payed a little closer attention to my Swedish. The word for hat is mössa, not mossa as I originally reported. Also, the correct translation would be closer to "Wrong hat!"—which is also pretty funny, actually.

---

We've been back from the States for six weeks now, and we're still having fun with all of the little treasures that we brought back with us—clothes we haven't worn in years that suddenly fit and/or seem stylish, trinkets we had been missing, gadgets we had forgotten we owned. We're still in the process of working all of our new/old stuff into our old/new life (March this year will be the month of hanging-things-on-the-walls).

One of my little treasures is my Norway flag hat, purchased out of desperation on a cold boat trip along the Norwegian coast in 2005. I didn't bring it to Sweden originally because, well, it's Norwegian, and at the time I thought it might be a little impolitic. Now that we're acclimated, though, it didn't seem like such a big deal, and I missed it. So this time I brought it along, and I'm glad I did—it actually does a better job covering my earlobes than any other hat I have here, not an insignificant factor when biking along at 20 degrees below freezing.

So, today the last of our Christmas bounty showed up, a package of stuff we'd ordered in Michigan that arrived after we returned, kindly forwarded by Jennifer's parents. More treasures! Instead of coming to our local gas station, though, the box stopped at Uppsala's single post office*, so this afternoon I took off work a little early to go and fetch it before the office closed for the weekend.

On the way out of the building, I passed my co-supervisor in the hall. He glanced at my head, then said, "For a moment I thought you were wearing a Norwegian flag on your hat."

When I avowed that I was, in point of fact, doing just that, he shook his head sadly, and said, "It's no wonder it took you so long to get your visa, then."

Now fast forward to my walk back to the bus stop from the post office. As I slowly made my way down a particularly icy sidewalk, a Swedish woman in her 60s, going the opposite direction, took the time to go a few steps out of her way so that she could shake a finger at me menacingly, and declare, "Fel mossa!"

Of course, last night Charlotte Kalla did suffer an ignominious defeat in the ski sprint in Oslo, the medal eventually going to Marit Bjørgen (a Norwegian), but clearly the blame for that lies with the French. No, I think it's more likely that the Swedish dislike of Norwegians runs deep enough to compel a complete stranger to speak to me on the street, for what must be the third time in three years.

Can you imagine what would happen if I ever mentioned the fact that I'm part Danish? I shudder to think.

*Why didn't it go to the usual place, you ask? Whim. For a postal service, Posten has always maintained an admirable sense of whimsy.

What have we been up to??

Vacation!

Being a "woman of leisure" for the time being, I went home in early December for a nice long holiday vacation in lovely St. Joe, Michigan. The weather was cold and snowy, with an unexpected thaw just before the New Year, so... just like home. Joe, who had classes and employment and pesky things like that, joined us a few days before Christmas.

One of the few disappointments with the trip was that we did not manage to visit Ann Arbor. I-94, as many of you know, can be a right nuisance in blizzard season, and this year was no exception. We are very sorry to have missed seeing people, but next time we visit the US, Ann Arbor is a priority. (And we probably won't try it in the winter again.)

Details... will follow. All is well here, and we hope that all is well for you, wherever you are. Happy 2011, and may we all have a safe, healthy, and prosperous Year of the Rabbit.

Sunrise in Örsundsbro

The fall term is, for all practical purposes, wrapping up now, and this year it carries for me the added urgency of prepping for teaching duties next term, on top of the normal scramble of exams and projects. I'm not complaining, I'm just saying: it's been a busy week.

Anyway, this morning I was supposed to have a meeting with a professor and one other TA about a class for next term, but before breakfast I found that it had been postponed until a to-be-named-at-short-notice time sometime before next Tuesday, while various people hashed out the other TA's seriously overbooked teaching schedule. So the morning went from fully booked to possibly my last free time for the week, and I decided to strike before the iron got out of the barn, as it were.

I'd been meaning to make the 30 km trip out to the sleepy hamlet of Örsundsbro for some time now, not on account of its bucolic character so much, but rather because it is home to our local Iitala factory outlet. There hadn't been a chance in the last couple of weeks (I've spent most of my free time dealing with our immigration status of late), and I'm leaving in a week for Christmas, so this was pretty much my last chance for the season.

I let the cat out, downed a cup of reheated coffee (a week on my own, and I still haven't learned to not make a full pot of coffee in the morning), packed a banana and a travel mug, let the cat back in, and was on my way. I made it to central station at 9:05, at 9:10 I was on a bus to Örsundsbro, and by 9:50 I was standing in the middle of nowhere, more commonly known as the Örsundsbro outlet mall, watching the sun rise.

That's it, just had a pretty little shopping trip this morning, and thought I'd post the pictures. I also took a couple of nice shots of campus after sunset (that is, I took them at 3:30 this afternoon), so I'll include those below.

Vi ses!

December's Foggy Freeze

I looked out the window before going to be last night, and I couldn't see the apartment building across the yard from us—an event that has not been so remarkable this November, I must say.

"Ah, snowing again," I thought, despite the fact that it clearly looked like fog, and went to bed. After all, it was -15 degrees C, it couldn't be foggy, right?

This, however, is Sweden. Of course it was foggy. This morning the 30 cm of snow we've accumulated since I confidently announced three weeks ago that it was melting is covered in a nice layer of hoarfrost. Not as nice as the three day hoarfrost we had for Christmas week last year—but then again, it's only December 2!

You know me, I love the winter. Biking home through the downtown streets Tuesday, over hard packed snow, with the river churning icily under the bridge and the snow covered cathedral roof over to the right, I had a moment of pure joy at living in such a place. So, no, I will not complain about the fact that, at the beginning of December, we've already been snow bound for three weeks, or that yesterday's daytime temperature ranged between -20 degrees C in the morning and -15 in the afternoon. I will simply say this: last year, we had snow the last week of April. And that's 5 months from now.

At least the cat likes the snow.