Rainy days

It has been raining for the last couple of days. At home a little rain doesn't stop us from doing anything.  Rain is just part of life in Seattle. Dress the kids for rain and nothing is out of the question. If we don't feel like going out side, we can always find something to do inside...We have lots of toys, books, play-doe, Legos.  If things get really bad, we can put on the T.V.   Being at home there are options.  We can run and hide in a different room or can send a particularly unruly child into another room.  Although life can be hard sometimes, there are always relatively quick fixes. 

Being in Sweden for two months, we are faces with challenges that are unexpected and not so easily fixed.  On rainy days the question of what to do with the kids is an especially hard question to answer.  We basically move here for two months.  All of our possessions in five suitcases and four carry-on bags.  How much can we actually bring and how much can we expect Mornor (Grandma) to have that will be entertaining to the kids?  Also how much space can we expect to have in her home? The answer is no much for all.   To get by on days like this, it takes the imagination of both the children and the parents.  Finding ways to entertain the kids in much the same way kids were entertained 50 years ago.  An old doll house, some books maybe a handful of stuffed animals.

 

Some houses have T.V. with multiple channels, video games and DVDs.  Mormor has none of these things.  She is more traditional and not interested in technology.  So how does life here work for me, a consistently connected, internet addicted geek.  It is not uncommon for me to have three screens running at the same time while working on a fourth. 

Here I'm lucky to have a power cable that will plug into a wall and not burn out my devices.  Only have one adapter, that I can safely use, I continually cycles my one of the three IPhones, the IPad, the Surface, Kindle Fire, Nook touch and one of the laptops  through the charger adapter so at least two of them are always fully charged.  I like to say I do this so I always have some way checking my emails and online class but it is more like a safety blanket...I feel better when I'm connected.

We had Wi-Fi installed for our use, when we leave it will probably be taken out within five minutes.  Looking at the list of electronic devices, I know its totally ridiculous, I recognize that.  I also recognize that the list although extreme,  is not beyond the scope for a lot of people. 

It is amazing how much has changed here over the twelve years I've been coming here, Wi-Fi did not exist for much of the word, and in fact internet could only be found down town at the city library. 



     

Jasmine then

Now my twelve year old niece Jasmine, who was about three months when I first came, is now never more than a foot away from her IPhone.   How will things be next time I come.  The world seems to be changing so fast, that I can hardly keep up...I sound like that "get off my lawn" guy.   



Jasmine now (note the IPhone)

This island is in many ways the caught in between yesterday, today and tomorrow.  There is a beautiful symmetry to it.  Children (about the ages of my kids) are forced to live and play as they did many years ago, children the age of my niece have a blend of technology and tradition.  I...well I don't really count in the equation, but my mother-in-law is strongly held by the old ways.  In her eyes a row boat is just as good as a powered boat, and when something breaks fix it yourself, if you can't give it to someone who can. 



Super old Coffee grinder

My mother-in-law does have a cell phone...it can store up to 18 phone numbers in its directly.  The book of the usefulness and uselessness of modernity has yet to be written here. Where will this island be in two year when I return again...you'll have to come back then to find out. 

 

I don't let my kids play my devices much...there are puddles out there to jump in.

 

Genetics of Karma

So here is where we are, Källo-Knippla a small island on the west coast of Sweden, very near the Gothenburg (the second largest city in Sweden).  

The population varies depending on the season.  During the peak months of summer the population swells to about 400 people, many of these are known as Summer Guests (people who live on the mainland during the harsher parts of the year and on the island during the summer) other are boat people (people who come to the island on summer vacations.
The population varies depending on the season.  During the peak months of summer the population swells to about 400 people, many of these are known as Summer Guests (people who live on the mainland during the harsher parts of the year and on the island during the summer) other are boat people (people who come to the island on summer vacations. 

My Niece Charlotte and my son Liam and then some boat people

Gala in Knippla dialect - fiskmås in standard Swedish

You can always tell the locals children or Knippla bor from the summer guest and the boat children.  The Knippla bor (roughly translates to Knipple living) tend to walk freely on the rocks, by the water, sometimes…most times without shoes...never in life jackets and not usually with their parents…Even the smallest of them…they all know the short cuts around the island.  All of the Knappla bor have a unique dialect, it can be understood by others, with the exception of a few unique words.

My kids clearly are not boat people nor are they true Knippla bor…if I had to say they more like every other year summer guests.  They do have many of the qualities of a Knippla bor. They commonly are without shoes, rarely wear life jackets and are often permitted to run free on the island with their cousins. This probably comes from the fact that their mother grew up here and has done a great job teaching them the “ropes course of life” on the island; where to go, where not to go, how to be safe…etc.  Now although they (my wife and kids) are comfortable with this arrangement, I am not entirely.  I wish I could be… I get so scared that something will happen and one of them will get hurt.  I’m not Knippla bor, I’m a summer guest.  I do see that the island life so freeing, such a great life experience…kids need to run free just not in dangerous ways. 

Time for a snack..bag of chips, random high rock..Good enough. 

I’m not one to talk, when I was a wee little boy, I caused such stress for my parents by doing things that brought into question if I was indeed a human with normal human sense.  Running full speed at automatic doors at the store, betting they would open fast enough…sometimes they did…something I've seen my middle son do.  I also used to play rope chicken…not smart…but it involves a tree with a rope tied to it…the other end on my bike.  Let’s just say… ride as fast as you can, and break when you think you are near the end of the rope…the one who gets closest to that point wins (my son hasn't done this one yet, we don’t let him play with ropes…or trees for that matter).  

He is known to do some really dangerous things.  Just yesterday he decided it was a good idea to straddle the railing on the deck which is probably 15 to 20 feet off the ground.  

The Deck from ground level

He has admitted to sneaking outside and dance on the slippery rocks near the water...he says the slim on the rocks makes him dance better (no argument here). 

Unashamed 

Unapologetic

Feelin' it

In the middle of the ferry boat!

As much as I am terrified of him doing some really damage to himself, I also admire his fearlessness...he will try anything in the name a laugh or adventure.  I think he does these things because he knows he can, not because he is too in his own head to realize what he is doing is a really bad idea.

I think...dancing out of pure joy of being Vincent

The worst part of this is that I now know what my parents went through with me.  It is largely the genetics of karma.   My son, my genetic spawn, is pay back for all I did to my parents.  He is capable of so much both the crazy and great…I guess walking around on the rock and running free isn't all that bad.  I'm beginning to see that my son Vincent, as with my daughter Elsa and the "baby" Liam; they represent the best parts of my wife and I,  but also those parts that aren't so awesome.  It is the unique combinations of these things that make them so amazing and so much more than I could ever be. 

NO IDEA!

One week in and its already midsummer.

I generally enjoy the sound of children laughing.   I know not the normal start to a blog about life in Sweden.  But there is a point.  This blog was started two years ago, last time we were in Sweden.  If you want some background go ahead and read the earlier posts.  

When I started writing this post, I was getting ready to go to the midsummer celebration on the island we are on.  Midsummer is a two day event, that starts with the raising of the Maypole (I will skip the long and mostly boring explanation of the maypole thing).  Children then dance and sing around the pole to traditional songs.  There is one about a “små grodorna” or small frog, which is besides the tradition seems to have no connection to the start of summer.  There is an assortment of other songs and accompanying dances, this lasts about an hour.  

The Maypole

People dancing around the maypole

 People then return home to eat and rest.  Just as night falls, so does the inhibition of public drunkenness.  Song and dance as well as plenty of alcohol, all in the name of the longest day of the year.

My sister-in-law waiting for the night to fall

Open Containers

Before I left I was told to lock up my bikes and bring all of my kids water toys inside …thing have a tendency to disappear or ending up in places they don’t belong when the party breaks up.  After all the preparation was done, we walked down to the party, drinks in hand (it seems that the inhibition against open contains is also lost).  

If you read the posts to this blog made two years ago, you’ll see that I've been to this island many times, and in many ways I feel very comfortable here.  Attending parties like this is not a totally new to me, but there is one thing that always is a hurdle I must get over…The language, I understand a fair amount, if spoken slowly, and I’m able to focus.   I don’t speak much, mostly because I’m not comfortable doing so.  Part of this is due to my limited vocabulary, the other part is due to the fact that when I do speak Swedish, I end up feeling like a circus animal that everyone wants to hear.  Most people speak English here so it’s not impossible for me to communicate. 

The restaurant we were in has a small dining room, a handful of wait staff and at the moment about two hundred people; all speaking Swedish, quickly and at the same time.  To say my mind was in racing to keep up is a bit of an understatement.  At first I could catch a few words and generally piece conversations together.  As the night drags on (not as a negative) the number of voices increase, the volume increases, the syllables start to blend together and rate at which words fly also increase. At the same time my comprehension feel exponentially.  At the high of my confusion, all the sounds of Swedish blend together into noise.  

I’m drowning in it, at the same time taking it all in.  The environment is filled with symbols and images commonly found in parties around the world: the drunk couple dancing too close that everyone secretly hates, the older man with the seemingly misplaces overly robust laughter, and mod of faceless party goers all with their own stories.  Intermixed with these familiar characters are the cultural asynchronous elements, things you might miss if you were not looking for them.  I will be looking at these things throughout this blog. 

The evening continued to turn into night, people continued to pour into the club/restaurant the noise level grew, the band played on…I've found that after X number of drinks it doesn't matter the language, or the song…every song becomes my song. 

Navigating our way home, my wife and I, still jet lagged and also two or three wine bottles lighter need to sleep…As we approached the house, darkened and quite, the night air was pierced by a sound that generally makes me smile, that I generally live to hear, and that generally resonates with me as a father…however in this instance it meant only one thing…it meant I was not going to get sleep anytime soon, it meant I was in for an even longer night…it was the sound of my children laughing…grandparents love spoiling there grand children with candy and soda…