Brilliant!

Mom?  Dad?  Jim?  Pretty much anybody with a lawn who hates mowing or travels a lot? 

May I introduce you to your new best friend:  This little guy.

Those crafty Swedes at Husquvarna came up with this handy lawn mowing robot.  It kind of goes without saying since I am devoting a blog post to it, but I am seriously impressed with this bit of engineering.  So, excuse me while I do a bit of unpaid advertising. 

Husquvarna has been working on this product for a long time.  The first models, launched in 1995, were solar powered. 

Lena has one of these to take care of her lawn in Sätra since someone is up there only sporadically and it works like a charm.  (I didn’t take any pictures of it at work while we were up there, so none of these picture are of her lawn.)

They can work in the rain.  They are completely silent. 

They run off electricity with a little base they go into when it’s time to to take a break and recharge.

They handle edges and obstacles with no problem at all. 

There are no piles of clippings that build up anywhere.

And of course, the main point:  It keeps the lawn well trimmed.  All. The. Time. 

Seriously nifty. 

Allt för Sverige (All for Sweden) - Midsummer Episode

 

Allt för Sverige is a reality TV show where Americans with Swedish ancestry come to Sweden to compete in a variety of challenges based on Swedish culture.  The winner gets to meet their Swedish relatives.  In case you are interested in being a contestant (I’m looking at YOU Stidolph relatives!!):  http://www.greatswedishadventure.com/

I just learned about this show this weekend, a weekend which also happened to bring a whole lot of unexpected Swedish cultural challenges for me. 

So here’s how my particular episode of Allt för Sverige went.

Midsummer weekend was approaching; the biggest holiday in Sweden, rivaled only by Christmas.  After the long, cold, dark Swedish winter, you sure can’t blame a people for wanting to celebrate the longest stretch of daylight during the summer.  The celebration involves raising may poles, dancing around them, and meeting up with friends and family for food and drinks.

Mom-in-law Lena had planned to host a gathering of family at the families’ summer home in Sätra in the Darlana region of Sweden which is where both she and her husband’s families are from. 

(Darlana Region of Sweden)

(Jonsson’s house in Sätra)

I got a hint of the coming challenges when Lena needed to leave Sweden for a trip a bit earlier than anticipated.  She was bustling around making all the necessary plans and arrangements for her coming departure, when all of a sudden she bursts into my room with big eyes.  “You’ll have to host Midsummer!!”  I must have looked a bit shocked, but she hugged me and laughed and said, “Well, at least David will be there to help you.”  Yeah right, I thought.  I’ll be the one helping David.  He’ll know what will need to be done and he can tell me what he needs help with. 

So Lena left the country, and David and I headed north.  As we drove, I enjoyed the absolutely stunning displays of Lupine that grow thickly along the roadsides this time of year, blissfully  unaware of the coming test. 

Of course, there were the standard challenges of doing a bit of yard work and sprucing up the inside of the house.

(Gathering wildflowers for vases around the house.  You can see the may pole for the little community of Sätra in the background.  They take them down in order to paint them and decorate them with birth branches before hoisting it back up again during the midsummer celebration.)

I thought David just got bored really quickly when he went out with me to get wildflowers  and he spent most of the time lying on this bench.  Now looking back, I see this for what it really was.  A sign that things were not going to go according to my I’ll-just-be-able-to-follow-David’s-lead-for-the-midsummer-party idea.

(“Watchoo lookin’ at?”)

I thought I was doing really great with my Swedish challenges when I finally found a path around the nearby lake that I had been told about numerous time and managed to miss it every other time.

Until it started pouring down rain.  Again. . . another harbinger.

(Yes, those three pictures were taken on the same run.  The weather changed REALLY fast)

Other challenges went well.  I surprised myself and David by actually being decent at swinging a golf club.  And by “decent” I mean that I hit the ball more than I missed it.  (Never mind what actually happened to the ball after I hit it)

I managed to start a fire in the morning without burning the place down. 

Then, things got interesting.  The plan was for David, his grandfather Gunnar, and I to go to the maypole raising celebration in the nearby community of Leksand (Sweden’s largest midsummer pole, by the way), then come back to the house get ready for the party before everyone else showed up. 

Before we left, David was feeling tired, so we both laid down for a quick nap.  And that’s when David started shivering and sweating and was obviously running a fever.  Man down.  I was on my own.

So, the next challenge suddenly became attending a huge festival in the company of a 90-year-old man who doesn’t speak English, while I speak only about 12 fairly useless Swedish words. 

(Grandpa Gunnar and I at the festival)

Navigating was fairly easy as Gunner could just point where I should drive and where we were going to walk next.  We headed first down to the river.  Things got tricky when he kept trying to explain things to me and all I could do was smile and shrug.  Finally, he grabbed a random stranger and asked him to translate. He was trying to tell me that the nearby boats would be loaded up with musicians, then float down the river along with the birch branch decorations that would then be carried to the maypole.  And that is indeed what happened. 

(Musicians tuning up, loading up, headed off, and bring the wreaths into area where the maypole was)

Other language challenges didn’t go so smoothly.  At one point Gunnar pointed to a bridge, saying something about it and pointing to himself.  I was impressed that he had helped to build it.  Later when I asked David about the bridge story, turns out I was a bit off.  Gunnar was actually trying to tell me the bridges is as old as he is. 

But the biggest challenge was to come.  Hosting 10 Swedish relatives of my mother-in-law for a dinner celebrating the biggest Swedish holiday at a someone else’s house. 

Okay, okay, after all this build-up to this big challenge I must admit that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal.  It was a pot-luck affair anyway, so all I had to do was put out the sausage, olive, and cheese tray (souvenirs from our trip to Spain) and everyone pitched into help. 

When I didn’t know how to prepare a particular type of sausage from the region that someone had brought (hot or cold?  Sliced with the skin on or off?) I just asked and the relatives obligingly filled me in.  When one of the burners wasn’t heating up on the stove, I finally figured out that when the oven was on, that particular burner didn’t turn on.  The relatives that felt a more comfortable speaking English graciously sat with me during dinner so I could have someone to talk to. 

One of David’s aunt’s brought a fabulous ice cream topping & shared the “recipe” with me.  I highly recommend it!

Aunt Ing-Marie’s Rhubarb Sauce

• Slice up some rhubarb
• Add sugar, water, vanilla & cardamom to taste
• Heat & add starch to thicken
• Serve warm over ice cream

Although it wasn’t a competition, I feel like I could identify with the Allt för Sverige winners.  When it was all said and done, I certainly got to know my new Swedish family members better.

Everywhere I Go, There You Are

I've always thought the old adage, “Everywhere you go, there you are,” was particularly true.  No matter where you travel, no matter what new experiences you have, you can’t really fully leave yourself behind. 

On this recent trip to Spain,  I was very aware of another aspect of what it means to be unable to leave one’s self fully behind.  Everywhere I travel, I’m nearly constantly reminded of the people I’ve left.  Everywhere I go, the sights I see, the experiences I have, and the people I see frequently remind me of people from previous places. 

Just to give you some examples. . .

(Cool graffiti in Valincia, Spain.  Call it my Banksey affinity, but I’m always impressed and appreciative when people decide to share their artistic talents in such public spaces.  This certainly fits the “Everywhere you go, there you are” theme, but it’s tone is a bit more ominous than I have in mind.  Oh well!)

Rowan S. and Mom, you were particularly on my mind early on in this journey, with your nudging voices saying, “You should start a blog!” 

Cathy K. and Kayla N., I often thought of you two as we roamed old narrow city streets that are clear reminders that the city was there long before car traffic was, and when I was struck by the intricate beauty of old cathedrals and buildings, and as we saw reminders of a powerfully imperial past in ancient castles and towers.  You came to mind because when I asked you how you remembered Spain from your time there, you both used the word “romantic,” which I found intriguing but I didn’t really understand how a place could be romantic.  Now I do.  You were right to use that particular word. 

(The edge of the older part of Valencia.  Notice the chaos of the buildings beyond this point.  Wonderful for wandering around with your mouth agape. Not so wonderful to navigate in a car if you don’t know the place really, really well.)

                                                                                                              

(More from Valencia.  Notice the Oranges on the trees?  Although Valencia Oranges are named after this region, they actually began in California – sez Wikipedia.  Even though the trademarked Valencia Oranges actually have very little to do with the region in Spain, there are a ton growing here, both commercially and ornamentally.  And they were indeed delicious!)

(“Now Bernadette.  I know your dress is a few centuries out of fashion, but there’s no sense losing your head over it.”)

(This is the Santa Elena tower and overlooks the Puerta de Mazarron, where we stayed.  It  was first constructed between 1556 and 1558 and was used to monitor maritime traffic and alerted the area to approaching pirate raids using smoke and fire.  The tower was renovated during the 18th century and remained active into the 19th .  The picture on the bottom is next to the tower, looking back on Puerta de Mazarron)

This graffiti gave me a huge smile and a pang in my heart when I saw it.  This was how my homegirl Amelia pronounced my name for the longest time during those precious days when I lived just a few blocks away from her in Laramie and she was just learning to talk.  Seeing it out of the blue on a city street was a sweet reminder of her.  No idea what “Chuli” actually means in Spanish, however.  Michele S. – any insight? (Fingers crossed that it’s not anything too terribly profane!)



  I thought of Heidi H. and cousin Tessa helping to take care of the passel of kittens at Cody when this little guy greeted us our first morning after arriving in Spain.  He was there to say Hi pretty much every other morning, too!  It was our neighbor’s cat named Dudley.
                                                                                                                                                               

I thought of my Dad each time I hiked up to the point near our apartment.  The only time my Dad is not on the lookout for creatures, critters, birds, animals, or reptiles is pretty much when he’s sleeping.  I know I've picked up this habit from him.  Almost every time I’ve come back from a long drive, walk, or a run and  he asks me me, “Did you see anything?” which is really code for, “Did you see any animals?”  So, for your information Dad: I was disappointed both times on the hike because I only saw the flicker of the shadow of a lizard out of the corner of my eye once.  The region is so extremely arid, even the rocks seems so dry that it feels like they’ve been through a kiln, so maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised at the lack of animal life above ground during the daylight hours during the relatively brief hikes. 
                                                                                                          

(A sweaty morning selfie at the top after I hiked up by myself another morning.)

I got up early one morning and decided to hike back up the point again by myself.  At least I thought I was by myself.  When I got to the top, I looked down at my feet and there was Axel!  So, Aaron, Karin, and Axel M., you were with me.



My numerous running buddies, especially Pennie V. and Kate M. were with me when I would head out for a morning run, because I know they get how there are few better ways to enjoy a place than stepping out for a cool morning run. 

                         

(Looking out from where my runs started, then taking a break and the view from my turn-around point)

Kate, even Killer Dog was with me when we saw this beautiful border collie playing with a group of boys near the beach when we were out for supper.  The boy were running around, laughing, screaming, giving him pets, jumping around; but he was fully and completely focused on one thing only – that ball.  They would bounce it in front of him and then he would jump up in the air and bop it high back into the air with his nose.  Neither the boys nor the dog could enough of it!  Remind you of some fluffy someone, Kate?! 

                                            

Mindy B., you can probably already guess why you were constantly on my mind.  Yep.   I was wishing (yet again!) that I’d take the opportunity to work on my Spanish when I lived with you.  But, Aunt Kim was definitely with me, as I was grateful for the bit of vocabulary I retained from my time with her in Argentina.  Mindy, you’ll be happy to know that I finally found green olives here that I LOVE and I could not get enough of them!! 



And of course, we had some truly terrific paella (A delicious rice, saffron, and whatcha-got mixture that’s a specialty in Spain).



I thought about my ever-growing passel of nieces and nephews when we were hanging out on the beach because it would have been perfect for hanging out with them, too.  The waves were very timid and small and the water remained shallow for a LONG way out.  I never did find a spot that I couldn’t touch. 

(I took very few pictures hanging out at the beach.  Which is a good sign I was probably WAY to relaxed to care about pictures.)

So if you are reading this blog, and you currently are not near the part of the world where I am, don’t worry.  I’ll probably run into you at some point along my travels, even if it’s just a random odd thing that reminds me of you.  Everywhere I go, there you are.