Parting Shots [A Dogwalker's Tale]

I was walking the dogs near the Feskekôrka (Fish Church) when a woman started talking to (at) me from across the street. Once she switched to English, I realized that she wanted to pet the dogs. She told me how much she loves animals (a lot). Then she proceeded to tell me all about how many pets she had (a lot). She was quite talkative. She must have realized that she was rattling on and paused to explain "I'm a bit drunk." Then, she hugged me and laughed. And promptly ended the conversation by saying she needed to go have a smoke. As she left, she wished me a good life. It was oh-so-very untypically typical Swedish. And such divine randomness too. These are the types of encounters I will miss in Sweden.

GLAD PÅSK!

Glad Påsk! That's Happy Easter in Swedish. And what better way to celebrate Easter than with a bag of Påsk godis. And, that is exactly what I did. Last night, we made a trip to ICA Maxi and there in the frozen food aisles was a Påsk godis display calling my name. This morning, the godis bag is empty. I know I will pay for this somehow. But, for the moment my stomach feels fine and my head does not feel the sugar rush associated with the overconsumption of very sweet things.

Easter is a big holiday in Sweden. But, religion is not a big part of it. As is typical, there are pagan origins to some of the traditions that carry on today. It's less about the Easter Bunny and more about the Easter Witch. More here.

But, now is not the time to contemplate the religious significance of Easter here in Sweden, or lack thereof. No, now is the time to savor the flavor of Påsk godis gone by.

Taler du Engelska?

I had to make a few phone calls today. I was trying to find a place to board the dogs when we are away on Summer holiday. No, Zoey and Lily are not here yet. But you need to book these reservations far in advance. The whole country probably needs to board their dogs and we don't want to be shut out of the hundpensionat. I love that word. Literally, a doggie pensione. For what some of them charge, though, it's more like sending them to 5-star hotel. But that's another story.

The upshot is that I spoke in Swedish on the phone today. I said "Taler du Engelska?" And when they replied "jag" I broke into Swenglish. Which for me consists of speaking slowly in English and throwing in an occasional word or phrase in Swedish to show that I am capable of "taler lite Svenska." A little Svenska. Most people with whom I spoke were quick to reassure me that there was need for me to try to speak any Swedish at all. Am I that bad? No, probably not. TJ and I been told and read that this is common occurrence.

Later while shopping at the grocery store, I was perusing the aisle with Digestives biscuits (about which I will blog soon). A store employee was stocking the shelves close by. I must have hesitated or looked uncertain while holding my precious Digestives. Because suddenly she began offering me some sort of commentary with a sly smile. In a split-second, I assessed the situation. My reply was an accepting head nod. After which I quickly walked away.

Oh sure, I could have made the "I'm confused" look, stated that I spoke "lite" Svenska, determined if she spoke Engelska, had her repeat said commentary in Engelska, and shared a sly smile with her. Before I quickly walked away. But, in that split-second, I decided to just cut out the middle part and save both time and face.

My road to conversational Svenska is paved with self-imposed obstacles. Liten steps.