I planted that little white flower today

She's been dead far longer than she lived.

at one point I lived up that hill. it was house #2(5)

I went on a trip

to Göteborg.

Where this used to be my house (my second to last, actually).

And this used to be my street.

(Yep, feet are still the same.)

we had none of those speed bumps and sissy cones either

When I was a kid this hill was super steep in the winter and deadly dangerous. There were snow and ice and skiis and I am just saying. We're all glad we're still here.

a swede loves a birch tree. like crazy a lot.

end of august, it's dark and rainy in bohuslän...

And it's crab season!

once in a while the people get to interact with the king's horses

People are blonde, horses are brown.

too cute for words

Smack in the middle of looking like a normal big city Stockholm turns into this.

And yeah there is a theme for female leg wear.

swedish people really really like to ride their bike to work

And this was in the middle of the financial district too.

seriously

My friend Åsa has the prettiest walk to work.

surf & surf

If you are very lucky, an old friend feeds you lobster and crab.

And you eat until it's all gone. Best dinner in a long while.

(I got home-grown raspberries too.)

I'll see you when you dive up

I've spent almost two weeks in Sweden now, and it's pretty much the first time in a year and a half that I have used my first language on a regular basis.

I don't have an accent I don't think. But I do the same thing that I do in the US, a subtle mixing of the languages that I don't think anyone but me can really hear.

If I intend to start a sentence with a "maybe", when I am in the US out will come a "kanske", which is the Swedish word. In Sweden, in the middle of my Swedish sentence there will be an "I don't think" or a "how" where there should have been "jag tror inte", or "hur". It's like my brain knows no difference, and all the words are happily swimming together.

Which reminds me of when my bilingual Mexican American friend heard himself say that he had to go help another friend move her ropes.

Her ropes? That made no sense to anyone.

What he meant was her ropas, which is Spanish for clothes. She was moving houses. His brain had mixed Spanish and English, all on its own. That's how I feel too.

I don't get it

I have spent a week and a day in my old country now, and for the past couple of days stories about Swedish unhelpfulness have been coming from everywhere. (If you read Swedish, here is a really good one.)

There was a one such story in the paper yesterday, and then a visting German person was telling me something along the same lines too. He said that Swedish people will answer direct questions, but no one will ask open ended or follow up questions. Which means that you may be left without useful help after all.

It's embarrassing and odd that people in this safe and pretty country should be afraid of getting themselves involved with others.

wild strawberry

more heather

heather

havskräftor. yum.

sfo o8.o8.o7

those little feet are sharp, let me tell you

This is a Swedish sheep. He thinks he is a dog. He jumped on me and demanded food. I didn't have any.

I like it better when there is a gate between us.

Or even further distance.

Actually, this is good.

on the trail again

this guy likes fennel, just like me

don't tell me it's a coincidence

When you see The Bourne Ultimatum, look for this.

oak hill park, san jose, calif.

Oak Hill Cemetery in San Jose is huge. And it looks like it is still growing, eating up the yellow hillside inch by inch. As the link will tell you, it is the oldest secular cemetery in California.
People have come from all over the world: From Russia and Eastern Europe, China and Vietnam.
Nils Holmberg from Minnesota fought in the Spanish-American War (1898). He was a sergeant. He died in 1935. That's all we know about him.

Right now there are 237 men in Sweden over the age of 16 who share his name.

it's always a good idea to park in the shade

my boyfriend lifts iron