Kubb

The calendar still says April but the weather over the holiday weekend was so perfect that we had to pull a summer classic out of storage a little early.



Kubb, which originated here in Sweden, is one of those games of skill many players will tell you they somehow drastically improve at with each drink they take. Similar correlations have been known to occur with darts and Guitar Hero, but I digress. If there’s an explanation it’s probably because kubb goes hand-in-hand with grilling which, of course, goes hand-in-hand with beer.

You basically take turns throwing six wooden batons at your opponent’s five wooden knights, also called “kubbs,” to knock them over from a distance of about eight to 10 meters. After you’ve taken care of the knights, you knock down one wooden king in the middle of the pitch to win the game.



From that description it might not sound as thrilling as your first roller coaster ride but trust me, kubb is no ordinary “lawn game.” And you don’t need to be drinking to experience full enjoyment. In fact, when it gets as competitive as it probably does at the World Championship on the Swedish island of Gotland in the Baltic Sea (where the game is said to have originated), it’s undoubtedly best to be sober.

Here’s a comprehensive YouTube tutorial with some visuals and cheesy music:



Kubb shares elements with several different games. Some people draw the obvious comparisons to bowling and horseshoes and others call kubb “Viking’s chess.”

I think it’s also similar to pool in a major respect, in that if you knock over the king before you’ve downed all your opponent’s knights you automatically lose, same as pocketing the eight-ball before sinking all the stripes or solids in a game of billiards.

As many similarities as kubb has to other games, there’s really nothing like it. I suggest you navigate directly to eBay and purchase a set.

You Can't Sleep In On Your Birthday

I was introduced to one of my least favorite Swedish traditions long before I moved here.

On my 23rd birthday last spring, when Amanda and I lived in downtown Sacramento, she woke me up ridiculously early with presents and a breakfast tray in bed. It couldn’t have been 6 a.m. Whatever the time, it was much earlier than I wanted to be awake, especially on my birthday. I’m a night owl. Always have been.

I soon learned that all Swedish birthday celebrations start at the crack of dawn, and that’s just the way it is. I was going to have to accept it.

I went to bed a little earlier than usual Wednesday night in anticipation of another early wakeup, but it did little to lessen my crankiness. I opened my eyes halfway and devoured my French toast.



On Thursday evening we took advantage of the nice weather to grill and I got this spirited rendition of “Ja, må du leva,” our “Happy Birthday” song.



“Ja, må han leva, Ja, må han leva,
Ja, må han leva uti hundrade år.
Ja, visst ska han leva, Ja, visst ska han leva,
Ja, visst ska han leva uti hundrade år.”

“Yes, may he live, Yes, may he live,
Yes, may he live for a hundred years.
Oh sure, he will live, Oh sure, he will live,
Oh sure, he will live for a hundred years.”

After two long trips back to California in the last couple months it was nice to spend a low-key birthday back home in Falköping.

Waffle Day

Since the beginning of the month I had been noticing an inordinate number of area stores advertising waffle irons at reduced prices. I didn’t figure it out until I glanced through the grocery circulars earlier this week.

Tomorrow is International Waffle Day, a holiday that actually originated here in Sweden. The stores around Falköping wouldn’t let anyone forget it, either:









“Våffeldagen” is not to be confused with National Waffle Day in the United States in August, which honors the first patented waffle iron in 1869. One of those “holidays” I had no idea existed before writing this.

Exactly nine months before Christmas, Våffeldagen corresponds with the religious celebration of the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary (“Our Lady’s Day,” or “Vårfrudagen” in Swedish). The Annunciation celebrates Gabriel informing Mary that she was pregnant with Jesus Christ.

March 25 isn’t so much a religious holiday today as it is the day Swedes welcome spring, though it’s a few days behind the first day of the season on the calendar. (Side note: it may not feel like spring yet at least as far as temperatures are concerned, but our days below freezing seem to finally be gone. One thing’s for sure: the days are getting longer, and it’s nice having light in the sky until almost 7 p.m. again).

I’ve read two common explanations of the incorporation of waffles, which in Sweden aren’t so much a breakfast food as they are a dessert treat smothered with whipped cream and jam.

Neither explanation is particular convincing. Some people claim Vårfrudagen was pronounced like “Vafferdagen” in certain dialects. Others say that Swedish women have historically swapped their winter chores for spring tasks on March 25, and one of those is making waffles.

Either way, interesting custom. Count me in.

No Bad Weather, Only Bad Clothing

“Där finns ingen dålig väder, bara dålig kläder.”

“There is no bad weather, only bad clothing.”

It’s one of the most popular Swedish sayings, and I finally learned the true meaning tonight.

I threw on one of my warmest fleeces and walked across town to our friends’ apartment a little after 8 to catch some March Madness hoops action.

I wouldn’t exactly say it was warm outside, but we’ve had much colder nights over the past few months.

Amanda and I ran the paved loop around Falköping earlier this afternoon and couldn’t stop talking about how much the weather had improved during the two weeks I was back home in California. Virtually all of the snow had melted and sidewalks and roads were dry. It really looked and felt like spring was right around the corner.

I left our friends’ place a little before midnight and walked out into a legitimate snowstorm. I couldn’t believe how much snow had fallen in only three hours.





I love fleece jackets. A quality light fleece can rival a thick down, in my opinion. As warm as they are, though, fleeces are not waterproof. Tonight’s blizzard was a wet reminder.



Swedes say there’s always one short yet big storm right before spring actually arrives, and I hope this is it. If the long-range forecast is even close to accurate, it looks like things could finally warm up significantly next week.

Six Months Later

I honestly can’t believe I’ve already lived here half a year. Some days, when the culture shock is still intense, it feels like I landed last week.

You try to mentally prepare yourself for the culture shock in the weeks before the move. Amanda’s agency had their au pairs read multiple articles about it when she moved to California a few years ago, and I consulted a few sources myself this week in an attempt to ascertain which “phase” I’m in.

The adjustment phase, long after the honeymoon phase and anxiety-filled negotiation phase, usually begins sometime between six months and a year. In many ways, I’m already there. In the adjustment phase, per Wikipedia:

One grows accustomed to the new culture and develops routines. One knows what to expect in most situations and the host country no longer feels all that new. One becomes concerned with basic living again, and things become more "normal". One starts to develop problem-solving skills for dealing with the culture, and begins to accept the culture ways with a positive attitude. The culture begins to make sense, and negative reactions and responses to the culture are reduced.

I couldn’t write a more accurate paragraph to describe my feelings right now.

I’m starting to embrace routines I used to scoff at.

Like fika, a coffee break that is so much more than grabbing a cup of caffeine. Workplaces literally grind to a screeching halt for 30 minutes in the morning and again in the afternoon for this experience, which usually includes sweet baked goods.

Like taking a number at every bank, pharmacy and jeweler instead of standing in an organized line.



Like taking your shoes off every time you enter a residence, not to mention the absence of carpeted rooms in said homes. Hardwood floors are the norm.

Like visiting Systembolaget for alcohol on Friday evenings. Even watching “Let’s Dance” (Sweden’s version of “Dancing with the Stars”) on Friday nights with the rest of the TV-glued country.



I have a more positive attitude about other cultural difference I’ve had to adapt to and lifestyle changes I’ve made in the last few months, too.

My wardrobe is full of tighter-fitting clothes than I ever wore in the States.

I don’t get all worked up about shitty service in restaurants and stores because I recognize those employees have no incentive to help me, since they receive no gratuities or commission.

I smile when I see a pint of Ben and Jerry’s on “sale” for the “special” price of $7.80.



Gas isn’t going to get any cheaper if I curse about paying the equivalent of $8 per gallon, you know?



I’ve also learned to stop trying to say hello to people in passing, and to not let that bother me anymore. A vacationer might call Swedes cold for this, but I’ve learned better. They’re just reserved, and offering a friendly greeting to a stranger on the street is plain weird here.

It’s little things like those and I’m still getting used to new things all the time.

There’s still a lot of frustration about the language. I was set to start my fifth week of a government-funded Swedish program for immigrants when I got the offer to work these last two months in Stockholm, which ultimately derailed my language studies.

My comprehension has improved so much that Amanda often speaks Swedish to me at home, but I answer in English. I still can’t roll an ‘R’ to save my life, one of the reasons I gave up on Spanish in my sixth year of classes and a continuing problem here. There may be a lot of similarities between Swedish and English, but there are plenty of differences, too.

As I continue to freelance articles from home, I’m going to try the self-study method and see how quickly my Swedish improves. I have several resources, including texts from the Government-funded course and a local library.



While I no longer feel like a fish out of water every day, I still have moments. Sweden is an easy place to get comfortable, and I’ve come a long way in six months. I have a long way to go, and I’m so thankful for the family and friends we have here to help me through each challenge. It’s the best support system an expatriate could ask for.

I fly back to California next week for the first time since I moved. I probably haven’t lived away from the Golden State long enough to experience much reverse culture shock, but who knows what will surprise me when I go back?

Swedes and Sweets

There’s one thing Sweden does better than any other country, and it has nothing to do with contemporary furniture design.

Swedes consume the most candy in the world. It’s no exaggeration. I thought Americans were pretty good at eating sweets, but no, Sweden trumps us.

I’ve read statistics that claim an annual average of as many as 18 kilograms of candy consumption per person. That’s roughly 40 pounds of candy each year, which I find disgusting. Considering that people like Amanda and me are bringing that average way down, I shudder to think of Swedes at the other end of the spectrum consuming a pound of candy or more every week.

Similar statistic sources say the average Swede guzzles 90 liters of soft drinks annually. NINETY. With epidemics like these, I understand why some are pushing so hard for Sweden to take a page from its Scandinavian neighbors’ books and institute a sugar tax. But I digress.

Swedish sweets (“svenskt godis”) are most commonly sold by the kilo as “losvikt godis.”

You scoop a medley of flavors into your bag and pay by weight. There’s a better chance someone has a bag of godis in their cabinet than a liter of milk in their refrigerator.

There are more fruit varieties than you could count:

There’s an equally impressive number of chocolate choices:

There are more licorice options than you could imagine:

I don’t even know how to describe some of the other flavors:

You can find godis in every store that rents movies, every gas station, every Pressbyrån (a chain of convenience stores that emulate 7-Eleven) and, perhaps most unfortunately, every grocery store. There, you don’t find the godis. The godis find you.

At our favorite supermarket in town, you actually can’t get to the cash register to pay for your groceries without passing through what I call the “Valley of Godis.” Believe me, it’s quite a gauntlet to run, especially on a chilly weekend night.

Whenever I ask why candy consumption is so excessive here, people invariably point to two things: holidays and weather.

It’s part of the culture. Candy is a key element of every holiday, and Swedes are very good at celebrating holidays.

Perhaps even more responsible is the weather. Long winters mean dark days and cold nights, which encourage “myskväll.” There’s no direct translation, but it basically means a night in, watching TV or movies. It’s all many Swedes do from November through March, and sweets are a natural component.

While obesity isn’t as obvious here as it is in the United States, it’s a growing problem, particularly among kids. This extreme consumption of candy and soda must be mainly to blame.

Random Musings from Stockholm

• There may only be a million people in Stockholm’s urban area, but it seems like 70 percent of them smoke cigarettes. It’s incredible, even for a “big city” where smoking will obviously always be more prevalent than a small town.

• Stockholm is a beautiful place full of gorgeous people, but again, I guess that’s to be expected for any country’s largest city.

• MAX sucks. I hadn’t tried Sweden’s largest burger chain despite living here almost six months and I probably never will again. MAX tries to compete with McDonald’s and Burger King, which are both very popular here. MAX claims to serve “Sveriges godaste hamburgar,” but I respectfully disagree. The fries were good and so were the bun and toppings, but I’m a firm believer that the meat makes the burger and I’ll take Burger King beef over the crap I forced down at MAX any day of the week.

• On a related note, “American Dressing” really isn’t so bad. I’ve never seen it in America, but Swedes love it and MAX, McDonald’s and Burger King all slop it on every burger they serve. It’s like a cross between Thousand Island dressing and the special sauce McDonald’s puts on Big Macs, and I used to absolutely hate it, so much that I simply wouldn’t eat the burger if I asked for it with no dressing and they put the sauce on anyway. One afternoon at Stockholm Central, while waiting for a train back to Falköping, Burger King put the dressing on my Big King XXL and I was so hungry that I ate it anyway. Turns out I might actually kinda like it. Chalk it up to becoming more Swedish with each passing day, I guess…

• Public transportation in Stockholm, particularly the subway system, is underrated outside Sweden due to the small size of Stockholm in relation to other European capitals. It’s extremely efficient and, at around $100 USD monthly for unlimited bus and subway trips, it’s also a bargain.

• There’s a certain type of adolescent male who rides around Stockholm on the subway all day long blasting metal music from his iPod at a volume so loud he’ll be deaf by age 30.

• Public transportation can be an awkward experience, though, especially if your eyes tend to wander. You’ll get anything from an awkward look to a mean glare if you make eye contact with anyone. Tunnel vision is a must on the tunnelbana and other trains in Sweden.

• Even if it’s less than a buck and I’ve been to enough major European cities that I’m used to paying to use a public restroom, I still hate doing it. When I do, I always try to “take full advantage,” if you catch my drift.

• I’ve rekindled a childhood love for blueberry muffins.

• There are a lot of English-speaking expatriates from countries not called the United States, and to borrow a fellow American expat’s trademarked expression, nearly all of us are “love refugees.” I learned the most about cultural differences from non-American expats this winter.

• I have an easier time paying 70 SEK for a beer than 70 SEK for a fast food value meal, when it should probably be the other way around.

• I didn’t fully grasp the importance of a large, hot meal at lunchtime in Sweden until working this 9-to-5 job in Stockholm and going out to eat with coworkers every day. While dinners may be as light as cheese and crackers, Swedes enjoy a hearty, multi-course meal at midday. For anywhere from $10 to $15 USD, you typically get your choice of meat, potatoes in multiple styles, a salad bar, bread and a drink, and if you’re still hungry after all that, dessert and coffee are also included. Dagens lunch is a great concept.

• Skyview at Ericsson Globe is a cool experience. My brother and I visited the attraction one evening and got some great views of Stockholm from the top of the world’s largest hemispherical building.

• It’s easy to take for granted seeing your significant other every day. I started learning this over a year ago, but the last two months in Stockholm definitely reiterated it.