Home sweet home…

Okay, you’ve busted me, I’ve been home for a little over a week now. But wait! I’ve been busy restoring my house to its former state. I really haven’t been relaxing by the pool with a good book, or sleeping late in my incredibly comfortable bed. Of course not. My kitchen was a complete disaster, but nothing a little cleaning wouldn’t fix. So now that we’re home, I’ve been very eager to get back into cooking with my own equipment, and today I made a fabulous loaf of bread that was so easy (and it was my first attempt at bread-making so I was so surprised!!). Anyway, I’ve been missing making my jewelry and have had lots of interest lately, so stay tuned for updates on how to buy my designs and place orders for custom pieces.

I am really grateful for my wonderful husband and kids, and am so glad to have shared our 6 month adventure with these amazing people. Thanks to the rest of our families for supporting us on our adventure when they thought we were crazy, and for sending us packages of soap when we couldn’t find the right kind. I also want to thank my very special Mom and Dad Carroll for taking care of our dog Sunny when things weren’t so easy back in Orion. I love you all. Stay tuned for more adventures, a little closer to home this time.

No moon over Liseberg

Yesterday we continued our tradition of meeting up with people we haven’t seen in 20 years (remember my Spanish sister and LisafromAfrica?). When Jon was a teenager, his family hosted an exchange student from Norway for a year.  Although Jon’s parents have stayed in touch with the family, Jon and Eirik haven’t maintained their relationship (sound familiar??) until now. Eirik, his wife Janne, and their children Philippa and Sina drove from Oslo to Gothenburg yesterday and we spent the day with them at Liseberg amusement park. You might remember Sara’s wardrobe malfunction during our previous visit to Liseberg – if not, you can check that out here. This time we were much better behaved, and had lots of time to catch up with Eirik and see what he’s been doing since high school. He’s done quite well for himself, with a smart and funny wife, 2 gorgeous girls, a job he loves as Assistant Editor-In-Chief of a newspaper’s online division, and a new house in Oslo 3 minutes away from his parents and in-laws. Not bad. We like to think that his time in Orion with Jon’s family set him up for such success, but I guess his own parents had something to do it with it too. Probably. They must have. We’ve been so lucky to have rekindled these relationships, and are looking forward to spending more time with Eirik and his family in the future.

 

Knackered!

I’m exhausted. I’m not just sleepy, tired, or even bushed. I’m exhausted in the sense that there’s nothing left. I’ve been fighting this feeling but as we round the corner toward home I’m realizing that home exchanging for 6 months really isn’t the same as living at home for 6 months. No kidding, I know, I know.  At first it was just different, not harder. Most things take an extra level of effort (you know, the language barriers and cultural differences really do get in the way sometimes), and it has begun to take its toll on me. Now the differences just make it harder, and we’re all feeling the pressure. For me, the most challenging part about such a long home exchange is not having any time alone. OK, I lied. It’s not having any time away from Jon and the kids. Before you start writing mean comments to me about how I’m a bad mother, remember that autonomy is a good thing. The kids need other playmates. Jon and I are extremely compatible but sometimes we like to talk to someone else. Just for a minute. So yes, I’m glad to be going home soon, and yes, I am excited for future home exchanges. Just not right away – I need some time to ignore my family first.

Over the river and through the woods…

So the other day on his blog, Jon wrote about the visit to our friend Roland’s summer stuga (click here to catch up), and asked me to talk about the amazing dinner we had.  Our hosts Roland and Kerstin served us a traditional Swedish meal with multiple courses, complete with the customary drink that accompanies each course. We started with matjesill (see above), served with boiled potatoes, sour cream, and chives. Sill is the Swedish word for herring, and this is a specially-seasoned type of herring typically served for Midsummer parties. I was surprised that the herring is cold and the potatoes are hot, but the combination is entirely delicious. Jon and I had seconds and then thirds. Really.

To be totally honest, I hadn’t cared for the fish served at breakfast which I thought had been herring, so I was worried that this would be awful. Apparently the Swedes thought we’d hate it, too. Turns out the breakfast was anchovies, sort of like the boquerones (fried anchovies) we’d had in Spain. There are about 25 thousand bones in one of those bad boys, and they were so disgusting to chew. Crunchy and prickly on my tongue. But anyway, this was the good fish, and it came with a shot of flavored vodka that Roland had made. He’d infused plain vodka with special herbs and spices and then let it steep for a week in preparation for our traditional meal, even giving Sara a glass. It tasted like dirt engulfed in flames. 

Next came a glass of beer while Roland grilled the pork and we made room on the table for round two.  They’d told me that the pork came from the local farmer we’d driven by that afternoon. Since I’m mostly vegetarian, I wasn’t too interested in dinner’s back story, so I might have had two glasses of beer. When the pork was ready they passed around huge bowls of green salad and a potato salad made with apples that Jon said reminded him of his childhood. Roland ducked back to the grill at least one more time to refill the serving platter, and we drank wine and ate lots of potato salad. You know, you start to feel kind of full after eating about 10 potatoes.

Nobody had said Uncle yet, so again we cleared and re-set the table for round three: dessert. Kerstin brought out a cake covered in whipped cream and fresh raspberries that Roland had picked early that morning. We had strong Swedish coffee and Roland poured cordials, asking me if I wanted the kind for the men (Remy Martin) or the one for the women (not Remy Martin). When I said men, he told me he’d been sure of it. How had he known I grew up on that stuff? You know, Q-R-S-T-U-VSOP. Anyway, Jon wasn’t quite able to refuse the Remy, and when nobody was looking he stealthily poured it into the plant. Just kidding, there wasn’t a plant, but he did pour it into his coffee. When Kerstin and her friend Agnette were in the kitchen,the men snuck me some of the drink for the women, which it turns out was a Swedish version of Robitussin. Not good.

We had a wonderful evening with Roland and his friends, and were honored that they had gone to such lengths to show us a true Swedish good time. We’ve invited them to our (!!) house for dinner this week, and then to our real house for a visit to Florida. It’s been such a pleasure to meet Roland, and we hope to stay in touch with him long after we leave Sweden. If I can have Spanish sister, it’s only fair that the kids get a Swedish grandfather, right?

Even babies love blogs...

Check out my talented niece Allie reading this blog!

First time ever!

My adorable niece Allie is going to be able to tell her grandchildren that the very first time she went to the beach was in Gothenburg, Sweden. How cool is that?  There is a fantastic picture of the family Wrenn over on Jon’s blog, along with the story of how they spent their first jet-lagged night tormented by our rude neighbors. Welcome to Sweden, guys!

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Weird, huh?

Tonight at 6:30 I am going to the train station to pick up my sister Beth Wrenn and her family for their much anticipated, albeit short, visit to Europe. Because Beth and I both have husbands named Jon (he’s actually a John), we’ve been unable to lose the habit of referring to Beth’s John as Johnwrenn.  It must be me. When Sara was little, I worked with a group of people with multiple Johns, and one of my favorites was a guy named John Bivens. He became Johnbivens to Sara, a frequent visitor, who never called him anything else. My sister worked there too, so she’s also an early adopter of this naming convention.  So anyway, Beth and Johnwrenn wanted to be sure that our exchange house would have some of baby gear they need for their daughter Allie who’s 18 months old. I checked with our exchangers before we left to make sure they had a crib and car seat (they do), and it turns out that their little boy is also 18 months old. In fact, he and Allie are exactly the same age. They were born on the same day, in the same year. The exact same day. Weird, huh?

Going a little crazy in Germany

The cheapest way to get from Madrid to Gothenburg was on Ryan Air, and the only way to do it without having to sleep at the airport was to divide the trip into two parts and spend the night somewhere. We decided to stop over in Frankfurt, Germany, partly because it was the most cost effective way to go, and partly because we could have one day in a new country. Rather than staying next to the tiny Hahn airport, we did a bit of research and found a little village called Traben-Trarbach along the Mosel river that looked rather promising. It didn’t disappoint. Traben-Trarbach is nestled in a valley along the beautiful Mosel and decorated with Art Nouveau architecture (reminiscent of Ålesund, remember?) and quaint buildings from the Belle Époque. OK, I didn’t really know what architecture from the Belle Époque was, either, so I looked it up. Think gilded, fancy, and European looking. Our hotel, the Trabener-Hof, was really authentic and had fantastic, American-style hospitality that even surprised me: specially arranged beds for the kids, gummy bears on the pillows, lots of complimentary bottled water, personalized place cards at the breakfast table, you name it.  We’ll definitely be going back to this special place when we have more time to spend there. We were expecting that German food wouldn’t be very good, but we had a delicious meal at a place recommended by the hotel and we ate ourselves silly. Here’s the proof, in case you thought I was exaggerating, which I never do, by the way.

 

 

My Spanish family!

So I have another sister. Her name is Loluca and she has been in my life since she came on a student exchange to spend some time with my family when we were 16. As these things go, I didn’t do a very good job staying in touch with her, but my father was very dedicated to her and to keeping her and her family in his life. I wasn’t as conscientious, and I had a lot going on back then. My father never lost touch over the past 24 years, and spent many holidays in Europe with Loluca’s family. I never did. I heard about Loluca’s achievements from my father – her PhD, her jobs in various countries as an important scientist, her marriage, and, most recently, the birth of her son Diego.  My father was at her wedding, and he had a photo of his Spanish grandson on his mantle. After my father died, it came as a huge surprise to me that I wanted to go to Spain and see Loluca and finally meet her parents. We had already planned our home exchange and would be in Scandinavia and Holland, but I decided to arrange the trip to Spain during our vacation. Out of the blue, I emailed Loluca and asked if she would like to get together. She was extremely gracious, giving up her home for us, and driving us all over Madrid with our huge backpacks. On our last night in Madrid, we to dinner at her parents’ home, the first time I had ever met them. It was a huge honor for me, and I was really emotional about it. Her mother doesn’t speak English, but we managed to talk in depth about my father and how he was very important to their whole family. Initially I was relieved to know that the relationship hadn’t all been in my father’s head, as others had been, especially toward the end of his life.

These were people who had a history with my father, years of caring about each other in a way that came much later in life for my father and me. I was instantly comfortable with these loving people whom my father adored, and I immediately understood why. Despite the cultural differences, and sometimes the language differences, my father had found true camaraderie with this family. Their home looked like my father’s home, filled with antiques of the same era and the same blue collectable china plates on the buffet. The dining room table was set with their Sunday best, as my father would say, just as he used to do for important guests. We had drinks on the huge balcony of their beautiful home and they offered us olives, cheese, and thinly sliced, buttery Spanish ham.  I really knew I was home again when they served us exactly what my father would have made for dinner – homemade gazpacho soup (Mariano’s specialty), a tender roast of beef, sliced thin (Lola’s specialty), chicken breast for me, salad greens, and roasted vegetables. They even had the ice cream for dessert. You always have a home in Spain, Loluca’s mother whispered to me, in Spanish, as we hugged goodbye. You, too…I mean, thank you, and so do you, I said in my poor Spanish. But it didn’t matter that I made some mistakes with my grammar – we’re family, after all.

 

Chemo, chemo, quite contrary…

Tomorrow is my wonderful father-in-law Larry’s final chemotherapy treatment for Hodgkin’s disease! Jon has decided to rename May 19th, 2009 as Larry’s first birthday.  It is actually Sam’s 5th birthday also, so we will be celebrating Sam getting older and Larry getting stronger. Jon has asked that people send him some thoughts about Larry so that he can post them on his blog tomorrow (click here for details), so please help him cheer Larry on!!

Grandma in all her glory

Well my Mom has been gone for only a day and we all miss her already. It wasn’t all fun and games, though, as I am sure she would tell you. She didn’t enjoy riding the bike we rented for her, the one she picked out (!!), because it was too far or too windy or too cold or, well, too different from sitting on the couch.

See what I mean? This picture is hilarious, and it’s even better when you click on it and enlarge it. I really shouldn’t talk, there have been more than enough unflattering shots of me posted on our photo site and on Jon’s blog. Mom and I also butted heads a bit in Paris, as she likes to try to speak her high school French, much to my chagrin (that’s a French word, get it?) Despite these few hiccups, we were very happy to share some of our time in Europe with my Mom, and the fun times definitely outweighed the bad. Here’s a look at some of what we did together.

 

 

 

 

Thanks for coming to visit us, Mom! We hope you had as much fun as we did.

Wednesday in the park with Sam…

 

Today was the first day in a while that the winding wasn’t blowing wildly, so Jon, Sam, and I were anxious to get back on our bikes and ride around. Sara and Mom were still lounging in bed when we were ready to leave, so they stayed home and did their own thing. Ahem. We rode to Middelburg (no, I’m not over my crush) and went back to a small park we’d biked through a while back. Jon and I immediately started goofing around on all the playground equipment and I think we had a better time than Sam did!

 

What we do when we’re bored…

SylvanSport GO? It’s a homerun!

I’ve been thinking so much about camping recently that I decided to check out the options for a pop-up camper.  We love the idea of camping off the ground but don’t have a truck to haul a pop-up camper so I started looking around.  Coleman has come out with a cool idea, the Coleman Switchback: it’s a lightweight gear box/hauler that turns into a tent once it’s unloaded.  You haul your bikes, canoes and coolers on the Switchback and then it’s your tent for the night. It’s a cool idea but man, it’s ugly (sorry, Coleman R & D peeps!) and I’m not sure it adds that much value to a regular cargo hauler. Here are a few pictures so you can see what I mean – click on the images to enlarge:

Pretty cool idea, right? I’m really into the concept and started reading online to see what people are saying about this fugly camper, and then I found it. The most unbelievably cool camper with a similar concept and what I can only describe as a funky European aesthetic (think Ikea on wheels). This supreme being is known as the SylvanSport GO and is our latest obsession. Check it out:

And to see this baby in all of her glory, click on each of these pictures:

So okay, here’s the deal. All you need to do is to send me one dollar. Just one dollar! Then all I need is another 6,999 people to send me a buck and we’re in business.

Here's to a new interest...

click the pix for the full effect!

Today I packed a picnic and Jon and I took the kids to the "secret hiding place" for lunch. The weather wasn't really cooperating with us, but we were determined to make the most of Jon's time off so off we went. The kids had a blast, and although it wasn't sunny, the light rain stopped as soon as we arrived and didn't start up again until I was finishing my last bite of sandwich.  We did a bit of rock climbing in the area before we headed for home, as Sara annouced every few minutes that she adores hiking and could do this all day.  Um, what?  Sara, the girl who refuses to wear a warm coat because it doesn't look good, the girl who hates trying new things, has discoved a new interest. Outdoors. This is most encouraging, and I'm excited for next weekend when we take the kids for a surprise getaway.  As we leave the beach, Sara gives me another gift, something she says makes her think of me. It's a small red rock that she found on the shore, shaped like a heart. I put in my jacket pocket, next to my own heart, where Sara always is...adventurer or not.