Yesterday, now that was a day to forget. Locked out of the house at 8:30 in the morning, thanks to my own forgetfulness related to the tiresome driving license situation (read: US license expired, Swedish license a complete nightmare to obtain), and the perhaps misbegotten notion on the day prior that rollerblading the kids to school, while they rode their bikes, was both earth-friendly, license-safe, and generally a good thing to do. It was, I think. But I left my keys in the back pack, left the back pack in the house. It rained all day. I was not dressed for the bone-invading chill of September in Malmo, Sweden.
I hustled to the grocery store, and selected only items that could live comfortably in my car for the remainder of my homeless day. When I got to the check-out, I discovered that I had left my bank card in the backpack, along with the keys. Okay, no problem. The rest of the day was fairly scheduled, so it was just a question of the remaining hours before kid pick-up at school. I waited for the bank to open at 10 (treated myself to breakfast at the coffee shop) and when I asked politely if I could please speak in English to explain my situation, I received the not uncommon Swedish reply of "but you speak Swedish." Asking one well-rehearsed question does not a foreign language speaker make. I wondered for the hundredth time, whether she would expect me to speak Swedish if this were my second week here. I struggled along in my broken Swedish, adding English words when I had no other choice, and somehow, unpleasantly, we completed the transaction.
I don't know why I haven't learned after four years to say, in perfect Swedish, "You know, I am only here because my husband was hired and is paid a very excellent salary, as you, my banker can see, by a Swedish company who felt -- are you listening? Because this is the important part. He was imported by a Swedish company because they could not find ANYONE with his SKILLS and TALENT here in SWEDEN. They were willing to pay a PREMIUM, to bring him here to do a job that, apparently, no Swede could or would do. So maybe, perhaps, perchance, you could be slightly more rigorous about hiding your discontent at my very foreign presence in your country. If you please. Don't worry, I won't be here long. And, by the way, since I grew up in America? I am an un-reformable CONSUMER. So I will be spending plenty of his hard-earned, incredibly taxed salary here, in your country. I hope we don't upset you too much in these few years while we fund your retirement."
But I only think these sour things on bad days.
Today, by contrast, was very nice. We did the bicycle/rollerblade thing on the way to school. Luca worked himself into a mild panic as we approached intersections, wanting for me to arrive just ahead of him and give him the all-clear to cross since he is a bit terrified of stopping his large and heavy bike on his own. Lola sailed along on her training wheels, cute as a button in her new helmet and long gypsy skirt (she was offended yesterday that I did not let her wear the long skirt on account of the rain and the Swedish habit of holding recess in it, requiring rain trousers over her clothing not once, but twice a day).
After school we played at home for a bit and then went to Little Gym where the enthusiasm of the teachers lifts their moods and gives them the energy to literally bounce off the walls. What more could a kid want? Meanwhile, I did the week's grocery shopping at the new love-of-my-life store, German chain store Lidl, and was I ever the happy housewife when I found the long-overdue non-scarring-soles gym shoes for Lola for SEK 30 (about 3 Euros or 6 USD)! So I skipped back over to pick up the kids and we made our way home. It was soothing to cook a nice meal (chicken and potatoes with brussel sprouts), enjoy it with a nice glass of wine (a South African Shiraz), put the kids to bed, smelling delicious from their bubble bath and eager to rest up for their treat tomorrow (a friend from school who moved away is back for a visit and will come to play after school).
Today I paid attention to the astonishingly beautiful contrast between the blue-gray skies and the terra-cotta tiled roofs. I duly appreciated the brand-new, spotless, un-crowded, consumer-friendly grocery store where I found everything I needed at literally half the usual price. I was grateful for the easy driving, coasting along at 50Km/hr unhurried, in part, because no one else is. I feel at ease, here in our big flat with high ceilings and pleasant lighting while my children sleep a deep, quiet and untroubled sleep. Some days are nothing but a series of frustrations. Others are nearly bliss.
