Second day in Sverige

Benches on campus (for sunny days ofcourse!!)

Didn't I say that snow can pile up here!! But doesn't it look like a painting at places and like a sculpture at other places!!

Jan 23, 2010 Saturday: Temperature -13 Centigrade

Saturday, I wake up around 3:30 am. I do not mind. I like my quiet mornings and hope that I can continue with this schedule.

I look outside the window. The house across from mine still has a string of yellow lights from Christmas hanging outside. They look like little gold balls.

I try using the wireless Internet. But it doesn’t work. So I read a bit.

Erik is kind enough to offer me some breakfast. I really like the bread and ask him if this is regular bread that they eat in Sweden.

The bread is chocolate brown, and quite moist, almost like a cake but with higher density and without sugar.

Erik suggests that we should go grocery shopping an hour later, so that he can show me the path to the store. I get ready with a Kilo of things on me.

Hat, scarf, gloves, shoes, long coat.

It takes me only a few minutes to realize that I must get new shoes. The ones I have wont do much good.

On the way to the store I notice snow, intently. The untouched and unwalked-on snow, the well tread snow path which makes the roads look white, the snow where children have made snow angels, and then the snow that rests on all the swings outside a play school. “Not fair to the kids” I think in my traditional way, when I hear joyful shrieks of two toddlers, who accompanied by their parents, are sliding on their snow boards.

“Couldn’t be more wrong.” I tell myself.

I marvel at the human spirit that finds ways to add joy to every place, every event,

As we walk to the store, Erik points out, “School, Centrum (Center), a middle eastern restaurant Nawroz and a store.

The store is not very big but has pretty much what I need. Erik suggests that I buy my rice from the international store next door which has much variety.

I point at the bananas bunches with different prices on them, and ask Erik the reason. *Oh, these, the most expensive ones are the ‘fair-trade’ ones.”

“OOOK”, I pat my heart and ask it to rest a while, as I choose the cheaper ones. I whisper to my heart, that I will listen to it, the next month---or so.

Ah, I already miss soft and sweet bananas that I could buy for 2 FJD per bunch. In fact I begged the vendors to reduce the amount because they always went bad in Fiji heat, before I could eat them.

Then I ask with curiosity and anticipation when he picks a shriveled purple fruit, ”And what special fruit is that? Swedish?”

“I think its called a Passion fruit:”

Yikes!! I squirm. You want to know what a passion fruit is, GO TO FIJI….

I remember the first time I saw the fruit. My neighbor Kirti, knocked at my door and handed me this bright, light yellow colored round fruit. ‘Here’

What is this?

Passion fruit, she said.

Really, I have heard about these. And then she carefully taught me how to cut it into half, and then simply spoon the pulp out.

I remember the first time I looked at the inside of a Passion fruit and those tiny little black seeds.

The Aha moment!! So that is what those seeds are ...in the passion fruit ice-cream.

I fell in love with the light weight fruit… may be because we could buy a dozen for one Fijian Dollar!!

Does the past really exist I wonder? It all seems like a dream that I ever lived in Fiji, as I look at the sad-looking passion fruits, as if they are gasping for oxygen.

Coming back to the present, I hurry up with the grocery shopping so Erik can show me the way back home.

On the way home I point at things and ask him what they are. Then I spot, a sign of life, amid the death that lovely snow creates. “Aaah, the nest? Already here?” I point at a rounded structure resting in the bare branches.

“No, they are there from the last season.”

Ok, so remnants of life, and yet, a hope in the remains.

After a quick lunch, I rush to town to see if I can purchase shoes and outfits.

I see two teenagers at the bus stop. One of them, with darker hair speaks English, with an accent. He is of Kurdish descent has grown up in Sweden. Speaks 3-4 languages. He tells me that he wants to be an aeronautical engineer. I tell him my nephew is studying the same in India.

The kid is very polite and helps me with the bus stop. “the center I say.” I still cannot pronounce “Stora Torget” (wait another few days, and I am there man…..the power of willingness to learn!!)

Unlike the US, stores are not open beyond 8 on weekdays, and beyond 5 on the weekends. Working late or after hours means double pay and costs the employers double money. Good. Because no one works on weekends for very long. I am surprised at the number of people outdoors despite below freezing temperature.

Not just adults but children of all ages. Wrapped in their snow suits, they seem to be constantly balancing themselves, but they look happy. I see just as many men as women with strollers. When I see a man with a stroller I look for a woman around, and usually there is none. It is just the daddy and the baby. And their time alone-together.

Later that week I will be told that this is because both parents are allowed time off to be with the children. So more than anything else, it is great for the children, because they grow up knowing both their parents.

I come home without any great buys because I arrived only half hour before the shops were closing.