Day 13 - Homeward Bound

Up at the crack of dawn. The ride to the Göteborg airport was bittersweet. I tried to burn into my memory all the sights I'd come to know along the way. A year from now I'll see them again, but will they fade before that? Checking in was smooth, though the baggage check situation was different. They wanted quite a bit more money for an extra bag on the return trip, so I decided to schlep it with me. No biggy.

Hard to say goodbye to Pär. But then it had been hard to say goodbye to both Lenas the day before, too. And the kids. And Åsa. And all the others. I hate this part.

Onto the plane. The sun was just up, and I had a window-seat view of Sweden as we flew towards Stockholm. The flight attendants didn't really try to speak anything but Swedish, but that was OK. I was content to eat my continental breakfast (muesli, plain yogurt, warm roll, flatbread, cheese, ham, juice and coffee) and look out the window.

At the Arvada airport in Stockholm I decided I had a whole 45 minutes to get to my connecting flight, so I stopped to pick up a few quick souvenirs. As I headed out of the shop, I started trying to locate the next terminal. It must just be around the next corner. No? OK, maybe the next one. No? Uh oh. My plenty-of-time was now less than 15 minutes and my strapless shoes would not allow me to run. I power-walked the last 10 minutes, arriving breathless and sweaty at my gate. The attendants had already closed off the boarding area, but they greeted me by name and ushered me onto the plane. Too close for comfort!

The flight was interminable, but a lack of crying babies allowed me to nod off for an hour or so. I watched the second movie in the Stieg Larson trilogy, a little uncomfortable with the graphic sexual scenes, especially since the guy next to me was also watching it. But it was a great movie. I can't wait for the American versions to come out. When it ended I went to use the restroom. As I exited, the woman in the next restroom poked her head out and started speaking to me in Swedish. My usual, "Sorry?" didn't phase her as she kept on entreating me (I could tell that much) in Swedish. I finally realized the problem; a careless flight attendant had parked a service cart in front of her bathroom door and she couldn't open it! Another woman came along and it took both of us to move the cart since I think they had locked the wheels and we didn't know how to unlock them. Poor thing. She thanked us profusely before hurrying back to her seat.

In Chicago I had to do the whole check in thing again. Each time I checked in I had to bypass the nice automated machine check-ins and wait to speak to an agent who could (hopefully) unravel my name debacle and let me on the next leg of my journey. I loved the way the African American women spoke to each other and to the passengers in Chicago. They were obviously having a good time. A young man came to stand behind me in the check-in line and a uniformed woman began a motherly lecture about using his cellphone while at the counter. "You dint hear nothin that agent told you, did you? Uh huh. I seen you talkin on that phone while she was explainin things to you. I'll bet you can't tell me nothin she said, can you? Uh huh. That's what I thought. You best be puttin that thing in your pocket when you get up to the counter again. And you listen to what the agent tells you. Understand? [yes ma'am] Uh huh." So good.

I sat on the floor near an electrical outlet to try to charge my mp3 player so I could listen to it on this last leg of my trip. People looked at me funny sitting between two posts behind the trash and recycling bins typing away on my computer, (responding to email.) Until a businessman spotted the empty outlet next to mine and sat down between the other two posts. Of course, as I was taking my final walk around the terminal to try to stave off random, fatal blood clots on the plane, I spotted a whole row of barstools facing a countertop and a wall full of outlets. Oh well.

There were apparently more Swedes and other non-Americans on my flight than Americans since my line was half that of the foreign passport line. A quick glance from a jovial customs guy and I was on my way to find my sweetie. Oh his face was so dear to me, spotting it on the other side of the security gate. I'm home, truly home just hugging him.

Thank you, friends and family, for reading this blog. It made me feel more connected to home, particularly, knowing that people there were reading my words. God willing, I'll be back next year!

Day 12

I can't believe it's my last day. Where did the time go? On the other hand, I've seen and done so much in the last 12 days that in some ways it seems like longer. I know I'll be busy trying to catch up with work and such when I get home, but for today I just enjoyed being here a little while longer.

I knew today was going to be busy, so I packed a bit last night and a little more this morning. Pär drove us to school for my last round of interviews starting at 8am. Have I mentioned I really like these kids? They look you in the eye, they have quick smiles, they have great senses of humor, and really great attitudes. I think maybe I'll just have them all come stay with me :)

Pär and Lena Carlsson and I met for a bit to discuss how my time had gone. Great!!! I had asked for more time with the students, and they really delivered. I even feel like I got to know the 1st and 2nd year students a little. Very nice. I had my meetings with Maria (actually a whole morning that included that great tour of the textile mill and a nice lunch!), Gunnar, Jonas, Pär, and Lena. I got to go home with Lena and spend the weekend in Göteborg, including a wonderful day by the sea. I got to hang out with Åsa, her husband, dog, cats, and alpacas. I got to see an Opera in the beautiful Göteborg Opera House. I did a little shopping and wandering in town. And I got to see the grand unveiling of the new Borås water tower, accompanied by Peter Johansen. Amazing!

We had lunch together at the cute French cafe in town, talking about our plans for next year over delicious food. We were having such a nice time we nearly missed our last meeting with the students! They were waiting for Lena and me. I went over some final thoughts about their trip, then they went one by one to record a short video for their potential host families. I'll be posting them to the Swedish Project Website as soon as I catch my breath. With a few minutes left, I decided to give them the most important lessons of all...how to order a drink at Starbucks and a hamburger at In-N-Out! I think this was the only time I saw them taking notes ;-)

My plan had been to take Pär and his wife, Lena, out for dinner tonight, but Lena is still a little under the weather so we opted for take-out Chinese. A big soccer match was on TV - Borås against Göteborg - mortal enemies. So we ate and watched TV and I got to hear the sounds of Swedish soccer-watching. You know how people here make certain sounds when watching football? They have a whole different set of them. Too fun.

Time to pack, and catch up on my email and message board posts from my students at home since I will be pretty incommunicado tomorrow. At 2am I finally turned out the light. Hopefully I'll sleep on the plane...

Day 11

Have I mentioned how much I love the homes here in Sweden? It's not just that the pastel color palette resonates with me, it's also that each home I have been in has been so comfortable. I know that's not a very specific description, but I'm not exactly what it is that makes them comfortable. The furniture might be more or less formal, the decor might be artsy or traditional, but the feeling is always that of "Come on in, relax, make yourself at home!" I guess it can only be ascribed to the people who live in the homes. It must be they that give the places such warmth.

Pär and Lena's home is no exception. A really nice mix of aesthetics and function. I love that the sofa has two spots where you can put your feet up (really nice after a long day of walking!) That the beds are warm and comfortable (at least the two I've slept in ;)) That the bookshelves are full of both recreational and cerebral titles, as well as being stacked with the familiar-looking boxes of family games (though the names are definitely Swedish!) That there are always candles on the table, lit even for breakfast.

And have I mentioned the window sills? Every Swedish home, and even most of the commercial building I have been in, are constructed with deep window sills, and on every sill are one or more plants, and usually some kind of a small lamp. I really love this. I would love to have some of my home's window sills converted into this type. The greenery adds even more charm to the rooms, and the lamps are some kind of traditional Swedish thing. Pär theorized that it has something to do with the very dark winters, and the look of invitation that it gives a home. You know how we say, "The eyes are the windows of the soul."? Pär said, "The windows are the eyes into the house's soul." I can see what he means.

Then there is the thing about the comforters. This one I don't really understand. I didn't notice it until I was in one of the student's homes and saw a large (queen?) bed made up with what looked like two sleeping-bag-sized comforters. "What's with that?" I asked. "What do you mean? All couples have two comforters." Really? Wow - I had never noticed this. It turns out that pretty much all comforters here are the same size. If you have a small bed, you have one. If you have a large bed, you have two. According to the Swedes, it prevents cover-hogging. I don't know, I think I like the snuggling under one blanket idea better :)

By the way, this is the typical (I think) dryer here. It's a refrigerator-sized metal box with rods that hold the wet clothes, either directly or on hangers. The door is closed and a timer is set, and the clothes are treated to warm, dry air. Doesn't that make more sense than tumbling them around like we do? The ironing we'd save!!

This morning was again cold and rainy, which made it even harder to get out of my cozy bed (Morris thinks it's cozy, too) before dawn to start the day. First on my agenda were some student interviews. Then it was time for my meeting with Pär. I know it seems like we should be able to chat at home, but you know how it is, it never works out that way. It was nice to have some focused time to discuss his ideas about the program. I love that he and the other teachers are always trying to think of new and creative ways to give the students the best possible experience when they come to California. He treated me to a delicious lunch at a french restaurant run by a lovely middle eastern family. It was my first experience in a restaurant where the staff did not speak English. It forced me to practice my most rudimentary Swedish. The food was amazing, and the meal came with both the traditional salad bar and a coffee and dessert at the end (help yourself.) Yum.

Tonight was the night I met with the parents. I wasn't really nervous about this since I figured I would tell them what I do and what I know about the program, and Pär and Lena Carlsson would be there to explain it from their end. They gave their part of the presentation in Swedish, and then introduced me. Of course I opened the wrong presentation file on my computer, which rattled me a little, but the rest went smoothly. I showed photos of host families, SRJC, and the trips the kids went on this year (pilfered from their Facebook pages.) They asked their questions, mostly in English, and we did our best to answer them. Like any parents they wanted to be reassured that their students would be well looked after. They were a great group, and I felt their goodwill towards me. We took a break halfway through for coffee (the real stuff) and cinnamon buns. Such hospitality. I don't think I've ever been at a school meeting that served goodies?!? At the end I asked if they would each tell me the name of their student. It was nice to put faces to the parents of the kids I was coming to know. And I was very impressed that nearly every student was represented by at least one parent.

Lena had pasta salad waiting for us when we got home. She's not well, having lost her voice to a sore throat, but she made the effort to cook for us anyway. Amazing. We're hoping she feels better tomorrow.

Another long day. Really tired tonight. God natt.

Day 10

After yesterday, I declined to join the students for a spinning class early this morning, and opted to sleep in. It felt good to be a little leisurely, and Malin was kind enough to offer to drive me to school mid-morning. I feel so at home at Pär and Lena's house, that making myself coffee and puttering around was really comfortable. Lena has not been feeling well, so I think she was still asleep, or at least in bed, herself.

Once at school I found Gunnar and we spent some time looking for a place for a quiet chat. I think the school facilities are well-used, as he knocked on and peeked into room after room, only to find it occupied. We ended up sitting at a table in a hallway which wasn't perhaps as quiet as he had hoped, but was fine. I think that Pär and Lena Carlson had both instructed me at least 3 times to "just say no to Gunnar" at this meeting (Peg said the same thing before I left.) Gunnar is known as the "idea" or "big picture" guy in the program, and I think everyone else struggles to make the things that he dreams up become reality.

Gunnar asks the hard questions. "What role do you want to play in this program? How would you like your time here to be different? Would you like your stay to be longer or shorter? What ideas do you have?" All good questions. I love my job with the program, but do at times wish I had a bigger role in some of the academics involved. While the previous coordinator was a student at SRJC, I think my role might be a little different as an instructor. Not that I keep my mouth shut about my opinions regardless of my actual role. I think they're beginning to realize that. We'll see what happens as time goes on, but for now, I love working with the students and the families.

After our chat, we walked to a nearby restaurant for lunch. As is typical, I had two choices, one meat and one fish. I chose the meatloaf and Gunnar the fish. Each came with boiled potatoes and a brown sauce. As always we helped ourselves to the salad bar, where Gunnar made sure I knew that I had to take some Lingenberry jam to go with my meatloaf. Naturally! The only thing that wasn't delicious were some red beans I put on my salad that turned out to be kind of nasty, like they had been marinated in something sour. Oh well, everything else was lovely. Gunnar said, "Do you eat meatloaf in America?" "Yes!" I said, "In fact we think of it as rather an American food." "You Americans," he said, "think everything is American. You're also wrong about most things. For example you think that the first day of the week is Sunday when the rest of the world knows it's Monday!" He says these things with a twinkle in his eye, and I don't argue. I'll leave those arguments for Steve when he comes in November.

While walking back to school we talked of his retirement, which may happen in the next couple of years, and how the program will need to change when he is no longer involved. He will be sorely missed. No one else has his vision, or his connections with the business community which give the students such wonderful opportunities to learn from them. The other teachers know this is coming as well, and are concerned with how to replace him and his energy.

The students were ready to do their first run-through of the presentation they will give at SRJC in the spring. They are really good, and I think the audience will like this year's focus on the cultural interchanges between America and Sweden. They talk about the Vikings, emmigration, settlement in America, and the traditions that have passed back and forth between the cultures. Really good. The most difficult thing for them in terms of pronunciation is the distinction between our V and W sounds. In Swedish it is all the same. For this reason there is a "Woodoo Tattoo Parlor" in town, and the students tend to call them the "Weekings" rather than the Vikings, as we would say. Dan still talks about the wonderful way Jenny referred to the wolwos she would see on the road :)

I began my interviews after the presentations. The students are a little different as a group this year. No one seemed nearly as nervous as last year. They had many of the same questions that some had asked me in private, and most had some idea of what they were looking for in a host family. There are a few with issues that will require some special placements; two who can't be in a home with cats or dogs (I can't think off the top of my head of any of our families who don't have one or the other), a few with dietary restrictions, and two girls who cannot under any circumstances encounter a snake. This means not being placed in a family that might even consider taking a walk somewhere where that could be even a remote possibility.

When the last interview was over I packed up my things and went to find Åsa - I got to go home with her! I couldn't wait to see her farm, her husband Christian, their dog Olivia, their cats, and of course their amazing alpacas. Woohoo! It was raining hard by the time we arrived, but she suited me up in Christian's jacket, socks, and wellies and we trudged out to find the "girls" who were in the lower pasture. She has six females and two 3-month old babies that were adorable, and one of them was rather curious about me. They are shy creatures by nature, so I knew to stand still and not spook them with any sudden movements. So beautiful. And when you are close you can hear the little sounds they make. I can't describe it, but you can hear a version of it at http://www.gentlespiritllamas.com/html/alpsounds/baby-mom.htm

We went searching for the four boys, who we found in an upper pasture. Larger and somewhat more majestic, they were happily eating grass in the rain. Åsa said they don't eat as much as sheep, but enough to keep it in check on the farm. When we went back to the barn, the girls were just deciding to come inside for the evening. I helped Åsa herd them into a smaller pen so that she could administer a special kind of tea to the eyes and ears of two of them who were having some sort of infection issue. For each one she used a rope to gently bring them close, then fitted them with a harness of some sort that went over their head and kept their mouth closed. Then a short lead was attached which I held while she bathed their eyes and ears with the tea. They are really calm by nature, and barely struggled. Of course I think that Åsa's calm and loving nature goes a long way towards engendering trust.

We let the girls out in time to be joined by the boys, then gave them hay along with a special food for the still-lactating mothers. Åsa says they sleep in the "koosh" position (a word she swears in English,) and they all seemed content to eat and rest out of the rain.

Back in the farm we stripped off jackets and boots, and prepared dinner. A salad of lettuce, shaved carrots and cucumbers, and some kalamata olives. In the oven was a beautiful, deep-dish quiche of leeks and cheese. When she brought out the ost hovel (sp?) to slice the cheese, I mentioned that it was the one thing I still wanted to purchase before I went home. "Oh!" she said and ran into the garage. She came back a minute later with a beautiful ost hovel and handed it to me. "No! I wasn't asking you for one!" "I know," she said. "But I bought these as gifts for people on my last trip to England for an alpaca conferences and ended up with two extras. This one is yours! And it has a handle made from reindeer antler." Wow - I loved it! So generous these Swedes :)

After a delicious dinner and delightful conversation with two kind and intelligent people, I snooped a bit in their library, with Christian at my side, tsk tsking at my lack of recognition of their famous Swedish authors, and enjoying some similar tastes in other authors. Such a cozy room with a wood burner, comfy chairs and lots of blankets for what must surely be many evenings of quiet enjoyment of good books. Then it was time for Åsa to drive me back to Brämhult where the Sundbaums live. We got only to the end of the road in the rainy dark before we encountered a very large cow wandering in our path. A quick call to Christian with instructions to call the farmer neighbor and report that his cows had once again escaped, then on our way. We talked and laughed while Åsa tried to teach me what she assured was a famous Swedish saying that I was to surprise Pär and Lena with when I got home. It took me forever to get it and we both laughed at my terrible pronunciation and bad inflection. She also thought it was hilarious that I called her seat warmers a rosta bulla (sp?) because I happened to know the words toast and buns. Apparently that was a concept that was new to her - toasted buns. Good to laugh :)

Such a delightful and unforgettable day in Sverige.

Day 9

Election Day in Sweden! It's interesting to me that they always vote on a Sunday, and we always vote on a Tuesday, don't we? Their reasoning is that most people aren't busy on Sundays. I think that makes sense. Also, they don't have to vote at a particular location. The government knows where they live, so they just show their ID card and it registers where they live. I guess our government doesn't keep as close tabs on us, since we have to vote at the polling place closest to our home.

Once at their polling location, they take a small piece of paper (maybe a quarter sheet of our normal notebook paper) that corresponds to the party they want to vote for. On the paper are the names of the people whom the party will place in open government positions (like parliament) if that party is voted in. Before turning in the paper, they can choose to check a box next to one or more names, which would be a vote to move that person up to the top of the list. All votes are counted by hand, and the election results are not officially known until approximately Wednesday.

Lena left the apartment early Sunday morning to vote, and after a nice breakfast we left for the train station. I checked my bag into a locker and we were off on our Sunday adventure. The day was again cloudy and wet, but we were in good moods as we traveled about an hour by train, then maybe 20 minutes by bus to reach the ferry dock. By the time we arrived, the clouds has thinned and for the first time since my arrival in Sweden, I missed my sunglasses.

The ferry ride was maybe 5 minutes long, and we landed in the quaint little seaside town of Marstrand (marsh-trand). Apparently a popular place for Swedish celebrities to vacation, it was fairly deserted so we quickly climbed the hill to fortress, stopping only to take a peek into the little church (of Sweden) as the service had just let out. We paid our entrance fee, and wandered through the dark and gloomy stone rooms that served as a prison for the worst criminals over a hundred years ago.

One famous criminal, Lasse Maja, is well known to most Swedes as the charming conman sentenced to life at Marstrand. Discovering that he could cook, however, he was promoted to cooking for the warden and let out after only 25 years. During his stay, he earned money by standing where visitors could see and hear him, and telling stories of how he conned people out of their money. He would stop half way through the story and announce that he would continue only if the spectators threw him coins. Entering the tiny cells that were cold and dark even in the middle of a warm fall day, you could imagine what they would have felt (and smelled) like in the middle of winter, crowded with unwashed prisoners.

We decided to walk up the steps to the top of the tower. The design of these steps is typical, from what I have seen, of Swedish architecture, both residential and commercial. Unlike our rectangular steps, these are nearly triangular in shape, so that only one side actually feels wide enough (to me) to safely walk on. Lena told me that it is customary, when coming upon someone going in the opposite direction, to allow the person descending to take the wide side, while the person ascending must negotiate the very shallow steps on the other.

At the top of the long flight of steep stone steps, we were discouraged to find a locked metal door. As we turned to go back down, a young man was coming up and said his sister had given him the key and sent him to open it for us! Though the wind had picked up and the clouds had begun to roll back in, the view was spectacular. Sea on all sides, the grassy tops of the fortress walls and battlements, pastel-painted houses, and many sail boats. We even talked the young man into taking our picture before he disappeared back down the steps.

A quick back walk to the town, a little shopping in the cute seaside-themed shops (!) and it was time for fika. I wasn't sure why Lena called it fika since it was maybe 1:00 by then and we both ordered sandwiches. Mine was typical of a Swedish smorgås (smore-go-us) with lettuce, a wedge of tomato, some brie, salami, sprouts, cucumber, and a little sundried tomato. They don't seem concerned that one get some of each ingredient in every bite. It was really delicious.

Back on the ferry, to the bus, to the train, which was standing-room-only since many people were head to Göteborg for a big soccer match. I have to admit that after so much walking, standing on the train, even for just 20 minutes, was tortuous. Off the train, and a quick stop in a bookstore for a gift for Pär. I really love that almost every store (even grocery stores!) have a little self-serve gift wrap station stocked with wrapping paper, scissors, tape, and ribbon. Can you even imagine something like that in the U.S.? There would be complaints about the color of paper, and lawsuits involving people cutting their fingers off with the scissors. Oh well, I can appreciate them here.

Soon enough we were off the train and headed for a short walk to the opera house. On the way, Lena fretted that I would be hungry before I could eat again. "But we just had sandwiches for lunch an hour ago" I protested. "Lisa. When will you learn that smorgås is never considered lunch in Sweden?" Seemed like lunch to me!

Pär and Lena had purchased us tickets to see the Stravinsky opera called "The Rake's Progress" at the beautiful Göteborg Opera House. Shaped like a ship, it sits at the harbor between a skyscraper nicknamed the "lipstick" and a new ferris wheel. The opera was sung in English with Swedish supertitles and was delightful. Great costumes, lovely music and a fun, easy-to-follow plotline kept me awake and focused (though the coffee at the train station contributed to Pär commenting on my being a bit "pigg" ... loosely translated as lively or spry. At intermission we had snacks and beverages at little tables with white cloths that looked out over the sunset-colored sea. A rather magic evening with two really wonderful Swedish friends.

When the opera finished we went to fetch my overnight bag from the locker. "Is it in the train station or the bus station?" Pär asked. Ummmm...it was downstairs? I'm so hopeless. Where was Dan and his super-power sense of direction. I had no idea what building the bag was in. Fortunately we found it after a relatively short search and were on our way home. I like that the opera started early enough that it was done by 9pm. Doesn't it seem like our plays and such always start at 7 or 8 and run until 10 or 11? Since I am definitely a morgon pigg and not a natt uggla, this way worked much better for me.

Another magical day in Sweden. Only three more to go.

Day 8

I think we need to re-think breakfast traditions in our family. At least during the week. We are so inhospitable compared to the Swedes. We might set out a box of cereal, a banana, and some bread for toast. Here, every morning, they set out a decorative tin of corn flakes (not the box,) a jar of muesli, a basket of a variety of breads, cheese, butter, vegetables, jam, fruit, ham, yogurt, juice, coffee, and milk. I don't even do all that on a weekend! Of course I'd probably weigh 300 pounds if I ate all that, but that's another issue.

This morning we had a special breakfast that included a mushroom omelet and bacon. Pär said, "Would you just come live with us please? When you are here I get to eat foods that Lena doesn't usually cook for me." I think you might be able to twist my arm :)

Pär and I then hurried to the train station where I just caught the train to Göteborg. An hour of beautiful scenery later, Lena met me at the station. We stowed my bag in a locker and off we went. We shopped at the indoor mall that was busy with both shoppers and people voting a day early in special kiosks set up for that. We even saw some of the politicians we had seen on television the night before. There was a huge crowd trying to get a look at them and hear what they had to say, and a lot of police. I snapped a quick photo, then we had fika (coffee) at Cafe Kronhuset.

Most restaurants have several "self-serve" options. One is that there is usually a table set up for bread. If you buy lunch, you can help yourself. I don't think this would work in the U.S. First, I don't think it would be considered sanitary to leave food out for everyone to touch, and second I think people would either eat it when they weren't supposed to or stuff it in their purse and take it home. That's a sad commentary on us I guess. Think it's true?

After fika we went to the Röhsska Museum of design. When we stepped up to buy our tickets, the machine was apparently not working. I said something flip like, "Do you sing while we wait?" The woman smiled, reached behind her, and brought up a guitar. She sang some lovely Swedish song (at least I think it was lovely - didn't sound like one of Scott's drinking songs,) then told us we should go on through. There were bizarre fashions, sleek furniture, and, Katherine, I don't believe I've ever seen a Mickey Mouse quite like this one. Shall I bring one home for you?

Lunch, more shopping (I don't think this brand would make it in the U.S., and even McDonalds tries to be healthier by telling you the organic origins of its ingredients,) ice cream, then we retrieved my bag and took the bus to Lena's place. She lives in an adorable apartment that has a balcony where she has a garden full of potted plants, herbs and vegetables. We put our feet up for a bit (OK I put MY feet up for a bit) then we walked to dinner.

It's no wonder the Swedes are healthy and trim - they walk EVERYwhere. That part I don't know if I'd survive, but it's no wonder I always come home a few pounds lighter, even with all the fika! Dinner was in a lively, noisy pub. I really wanted a margarita, but it was beer and wine only so I ordered a pear cider. Oh my. I actually guzzled this thing. I really need to find a way to get Kopparberg's Swedish pear cider in the U.S. At least I could pretend I was drinking beer with the big people. Soooo yummy, especially ice cold.

A long walk back home and a long chat about stuff, and I'll sleep like a baby, I'm sure.

Hej då (hey doh-uh) - good bye for now :)

Day 7

Now that's what I'm talking about. Twelve straight hours spent with the students who will be coming to California in March. It's why I'm here! Even though I was exhausted by the end of the day, it was the perfect way to get to to know each student.

They broke themselves up into 4 groups, and each group had 2 hours to spend doing something fun with me. The first group took me to have coffee at Tant Grön (something like My Old Green Aunt?) I also had a very small cinnamon roll which was delicious but not too big. I did not overeat today. I did not! Anyway, we sat at a little table and the four of them asked me all their most worrisome questions about their trip to California. What are the families like? What sports/PE classes can I do at the JC? Will the weather be nice (to us, weather in spring is variable, to them the answer is always yes when I tell them the temperature spread)? Will I have to live in a family who has snakes? Will they make me eat hamburgers all day? Will we get to ski, watch football on TV, or see a live basketball game? The other people in the cafe tried not to stare (actually they didn't try very hard) as we talked and laughed in English. A lovely 2 hours.

They walked me back to the school where the next group met me and walked me back into town for lunch. We ate at the Viskan Cafe (I only ate HALF my sandwich, because I just ate a cinnamon roll.) The 6 students in this group and I sat and talked, and they asked me all their most important questions about coming to California (see list above and add questions about local shopping meccas.) This cafe contained mostly young people, so no one stared. After lunch we walked back to the school where the students voted. Apparently it is a national policy to poll all gymnasiet (high school) students to see how they will/would vote in the election which takes place on Sunday. The votes are counted and the results are published by school, I think.

I sat for five minutes before the next group came and we walked to the bowling alley in town. What fun! We had 2 teams of 3. I'm a terrible bowler; hit nothing, hit 2 pins, strike, hit nothing, hit one pin, strike, etc. but we had a great time anyway. There were a few difference from American bowling. First of all the shoes were help-yourself. Second we were asked to change our shoes in a locker room where there were actually showers. Third all the ads on the scoring machine were in Swedish, very strange. Other than that, I felt right at home! The students were great. We laughed, teased and encouraged each other, commented on the other bowlers, and generally had a good time. I don't think anyone in this group had any questions for me...OK with me! :)

By the time we walked back to the school, my feet were toast. So when the fourth group announced we'd be walking several kilometers to someone's house, I revolted. They finally managed to find a driver and we arrived at a beautiful home in Borås. Our job was to bake a kladkaka (chocolate cake) for dinner that night. I ate the other half of my sandwich from lunch so I wouldn't be tempted to lick the beaters, then we got to work. I remember when I was on a missions trip in high school a woman commented that many of my friends had obviously "never walked through a kitchen." Yep. The cake turned out lovely. The frosting ended up being a very nice sauce we poured over the top. It was all good. These students had only a few questions for me, mostly asked as I sat with my feet up in the living room while the cake was baking. Can I play American football while I'm in California? Can I ski? Will someone take me to San Francisco to shop? Will my family be able to feed me enough? (Actually, this last question was mine and I have my doubts that this student ever actually has "enough" to eat.)

A new chauffer/student drove us to the next stop which was another student's beautiful home. All of the students were there (except one who had a soccer game.) Now, I have heard many times from Swedish students that the Swedes are much more equal in their gender roles than we Americans are. So when I entered the home I was a bit surprised to see all of the girls working hard in the kitchen and all of the boys sitting on the sofa playing video games. Uhuh. Tell me another one.

We sat together and ate tacos (actually we would call them burritos.The ingredients were the same ones we would use with a couple of exceptions, namely cucumbers and pineapple. Interesting! The tacos were great, and we had good discussions about The Swedish Chef, American Idol, and how much time they would be able to spend sunbathing in California. Then we had some staring contests, complete with lewd tongue maneuvers, followed by the amazing dessert we made earlier. As I was contemplating calling it a night, I noticed some of the students were doing karaoke. I'm not sure if I've ever witnessed this strange phenomenon live, but I for darned sure never did it! However, for those of you who know my motto when in Sweden, you won't be surprised that I said yes when asked to join in. I sing badly, and when nervous (like when a room full of Swedish teenagers are watching) even worse. But after finding the only song I knew in the list (Stand By Me,) I did my best, and actually had fun! Who knew?

Only a short drive back to Pär and Lena's house, and a little time watching the politicians give it their last best shot on TV, and that was it for me.

God natt!