Family in Stockholm

As promised, I've got some photos for you. My dad and mom arrived on a Sunday morning at the beginning of April and stayed in Sweden for two weeks. I was lucky to have a chance to feel the comfort of family in a place I've come to love so much.

I had to work the first week my parents were here, so they spent their first several days visiting my classroom and showing themselves around Stockholm and the surrounding area. During the second week of their trip, we rented a car and drove west to Karlstad, the area of my Swedish ancestry. We stayed at a cottage on Lake Vänern and spent our days there chatting, reading many books, eating lots of soup, snacking on licorice, drinking tea, sitting by the water, and walking through the woods (mindful of the ticks, of course). We also were able to share a cozy meal on a rainy afternoon with some of my dad's Swedish family.

I suppose this visit is old news now, but the memories are still warm and bright in my mind and I wanted to share with you some images from our time together.  

Our cottage for the week.

Down the stairs from the cottage: a sauna.

View from the wrap-around porch.

Dad, making potato-leek soup on our first evening at the cottage.

Sunny living room.

...with a cozy fireplace.

Another view of our lovely lakeside sauna.

We headed north in our rental car to explore Sweden... and found ourselves in the land of the dalahäst!

Before...

...and after.

Carl Larsson's house.

Swedish countryside.

Barn near our cottage.

Hiking through the Lake Vänern woods.

Signs of spring!

Last sunset from our porch.

 

Writing-Related Ramblings

Last month, I gave my students a frightening assignment: Write a story. 

I provided them with a few guidelines—mainly that there must be some sort of conflict, big or small—and let them go. I was curious to see what they’d come up with.

Many stories involved hockey or car chases, time travel or plane crashes, exotic animals or long-lost twins. Several plots classically concluded with the main character waking up... it was all a dream; whew! A handful of stories straight-up didn’t make sense. But for the most part, I was impressed by the creativity, cohesiveness, and humor found in my students’ work. 

A few of my kids ended up writing longer pieces of text and met with me after school to edit and develop their work. Over cinnamon brownies and juice, we started talking about what makes up a good story, and if those qualities are the same across different languages.

Searching for some outside sources to contribute to our discussions about good writing, I came across a column by Jhumpa Lahiri published in the New York Times. Here’s an excerpt:

“When I am experiencing a complex story or novel, the broader planes, and also details, tend to fall away. Rereading them, certain sentences are what greet me as familiars. You have visited before, they say when I recognize them. We encounter books at different times in life, often appreciating them, apprehending them, in different ways. But their language is constant. The best sentences orient us, like stars in the sky, like landmarks on a trail.”

I like the idea that a sentence can orient us. We talked about how not every sentence is great, and not every sentence is valuable enough to end up in a story. But the only way to create a story is by building sentences, so experimenting with their tone and variety, and sometimes writing silly or pointless or powerless sentences, is how we find our way to the worthwhile ones.

“They remain the test, whether or not to read something,” writes Lahiri. “The most compelling narrative, expressed in sentences with which I have no chemical reaction, or an adverse one, leaves me cold. In fiction, plenty do the job of conveying information, rousing suspense, painting characters, enabling them to speak. But only certain sentences breathe and shift about, like live matter in soil. The first sentence of a book is a handshake, perhaps an embrace. Style and personality are irrelevant. They can be formal or casual. They can be tall or short or fat or thin. They can obey the rules or break them. But they need to contain a charge. A live current, which shocks and illuminates.”

One novel that jumps to mind is The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. Her sentences stirred me to the point of feeling as though I was reading the book more for the words than for the plot. Kidd's beautifully-composed sentences challenged the ways I think about death, motherhood, bees, even the act of lying down:

“Every human being on the face of the earth has a steel plate in his head, but if you lie down now and then and get still as you can, it will slide open like elevator doors, letting in all the secret thoughts that have been standing around so patiently, pushing the button for a ride to the top. The real troubles in life happen when those hidden doors stay closed for too long.” 

What sentences orient you?

A Narnia-esque lamppost at the cottage where I stayed with my parents last month. Also: More photos of their wonderful visit to Sweden will be posted soon!

Rome Away from Home

This town was everything we could have hoped for: walkable streets, fascinating history, sunshine, friendly people, amazing food. I stayed in a lovely apartment close to the Colusseum with three other IES teachers (two American, one Irish) and we enjoyed several days of exploring Rome during our week away from the classroom.

We saw all the classic historical sites: the Pantheon, the Colusseum, the Vatican, the Trevi Fountain, the old market squares, and the Forum. We sat in the sunshine in piazzas and by fountains and overlooking the Tiber River. Taking an overpriced ride across the city in a horse-drawn carriage was one of the highlights of our visit, as was an organized pub tour one evening, during which we met many charming locals. We were surprised by how few tourists were in the city and how inexpensive it was to eat out, especially compared with Stockholm.

We had a few unexpected moments, including losing our map at an inopportune time, struggling with the Italian plumbing system, visiting the Vatican on a day the Pope was sick, getting laundry stuck in a washer, and hearing our names called over the loudspeaker at an airport in Latvia because we were confused about time differences. Other than that, though, it was all fun and sun and gelato!

Our apartment.

Hope's bedside table.

Welcome wine.

Sneaky picture of the Sistine Chapel ceiling.

Wine in front of Trevi Fountain on our last night in Rome.

Your Weekend Plans

This recipe is so good. Jättebra, underbart, utsökt. I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that I've made these Mocha Chocolate Chip Cookies at least once a month since living here. Any chance I get-- girls' night, birthday fika, thank you gift, cure for homesickness-- this is my simple, no-fail, go-to dessert recipe. You can easily exchange the coffee crystals or chocolate chips for nuts, M&Ms, white chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, or toffee pieces to give the cookies a different twist.

During my last Book Club meeting, my kiddos happily gobbled up a coffee-free batch while discussing democracy, reality television, and how awesome Katniss is. (If you haven't read The Hunger Games, you should probably make it a priority this weekend. Read that book and eat these cookies.)

Ingredients:

• 1 cup butter, softened
• 1 1/4 cups white sugar
• 2 eggs
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup cocoa powder
• 1/3 cup instant coffee crystals
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 cups semisweet chocolate chips (or chop up a dark chocolate bar if you live in a country that doesn't offer chocolate chips)

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
2. In a large bowl, beat butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla until light and fluffy. In another bowl, combine the flour, cocoa, coffee crystals, cinnamon, baking soda, and salt; stir into the butter mixture until well blended. Mix in the chocolate chips/chunks. Drop by rounded tablespoons onto ungreased cookie sheets. 
3. Try not to eat all of the raw batter.
4. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes in the preheated oven, or just until set. These are better a bit under-done. Cool slightly on the cookie sheets before transferring to wire racks to cool completely. Makes about 3 dozen cookies.

While we're on the topic of chocolate, the yellowish building on the right serves some pretty amazing chocolate cake.

Water, Water Everywhere

Hässelby Strand is a suburb to the west of Stockholm, about a 30-minute train ride from the city center. It’s not a luxurious place to live. Hässelby’s distinguishing features are tall, white apartment buildings, a train station, an awesome Thai takeout place, a few overpriced convenience stores, and two schools. 

But there’s natural beauty here for the observer who has the eyes to see it. Massive pines, graceful aspens, genial apple trees, and big slabs of granite adorn the terrain. Best of all, I can stroll downhill for about five minutes and end up by the water—Hässelby Strand means "Hässelby Beach."

Hässelby Strand in September.

I haven’t lived in many places yet, but wherever I end up, I’m drawn to water. Growing up in western NY, I was able to enjoy the Great Lakes, Niagara Falls, immense gorges formed by glaciers, and our own little Chautauqua Lake. In college, I visited the river in a nearby ravine whenever I needed to get away from my daily routine. While in Edinburgh, I was enticed by the rocky craigs, which overlooked the shimmering Firth of Forth. In San Francisco, I could walk ten blocks and have a face-to-face meeting with the Atlantic Ocean. Living in Honesdale, I often packed up a book, blanket, and picnic lunch and spent the afternoon at a nearby lake. 

Edinburgh, Scotland

Zoar Valley, NY

San Francisco, CA

Meadville, PA

Bodies of water make me feel calm and secure. I like the open space and reflective qualities of water. I like the range of sounds it makes. And I like that water can take on multiple forms.

Currently, the water near Hässelby happens to be in its most solid form. Over the past seven months, I've taken comfort in the steady seasonal changes of my little beach. I took a walk down to the water one bright Sunday afternoon and was surprised by how many people were out on the ice, enjoying the sunshine and the unique sensation of walking on open water. 

Lonely docks.

Family picnic on the ice.

Look at that blue sky!

With Love from Me to You

Out on the ice at Hässelby Beach

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

    i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

--e.e. cummings

First Rehearsal

Friday's icy view from a staff room window.

Earlier this week, I found myself in a crowd of 400 Swedes who were warming up their voices with a lively round of “Vintern Rasat,” a song about the passing of winter into spring. My first choir rehearsal was characterized by laughter, confusion, and the comfort I feel when making music with other people.

I decided to join a choir because I miss being a part of a musical ensemble. I don’t have my French horn or guitar with me here, and as corny as it sounds, I feel as though part of me is missing when I don’t have weekly rehearsals of some sort. The group I’ve joined is the biggest choir in Stockholm and they prepare for two concerts a year.

The school auditorium where we rehearse is a sizeable, circular room with a lofty balcony and tall windowpanes that look out over snowy Rådmansgatan. Sage green and cream curtains hang around the windows, and the walls and ceiling are decorated with elaborate gold swirls.

Walking into the auditorium and feeling extra-aware of my lingual limitations, I scanned the alto section and then sat down next to a girl wearing a plaid shirt. Is it strange that I associate plaid with friendliness? Probably. Lucky for me, my plaid-to-friendly correlation proved to be true— and she has lived in Australia and Canada, so her English is excellent. She translated the director’s instructions when necessary and patiently helped me with the pronunciation of some tricky Swedish lyrics.

One of the pieces we’re preparing is a gospel tune sung in English. The best part of the evening was, without a doubt, watching 400 people work really hard to sing with an American accent. It was a positive moment for my self-esteem.

Although I learned a new song on Monday about the end of winter, spring is actually nowhere in sight. It’s been bitterly cold over the past week or two, and the heat in our apartment seems to be on the fritz—I woke this morning to find the temperature in the kitchen to be 12 degrees C. Brrr!

The wintry weather goes right along with my Narnia unit, though. After a few months of ESL-style classes, we’re finally getting into some literature—and I think the kids are liking it. Teaching from a novel provides a little more depth to my lessons, and a novel like "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" offers endless activities, conversation starters, grammar reviews, character studies, and vocabulary builders. We made snowflakes last week! (With a dash of characterization discussion, thesaurus practice, and friendly competition, of course.)

Props to my dad for making me the best lamppost Hässelby has ever seen!