Kilim - Love at first sight

Close your eyes and let’s make believe that we are in Turkey, in Istanbul maybe?

Hear the sound from the mosque when they call out for the evening prayer, see the light slowly fading in the narrow alleys and feel the heat still coming from the thick white walls and the lovely smell from fresh herbs and spices. Can you feel the feeling?

Now open your eyes and let’s go for a walk… along the streets not in Istanbul but in Stockholm. Turn left at the chimney......

and up the long steep street .....

and there it is at the corner – Taners Kilim Carpets! And if you are lucky the proprietor is standing outside welcoming you to step inside......

Welcome inside.....

And when you are inside? Oh joy! Beautiful, beautiful Kilim carpets, rugs and pillows everywhere you look. And if you close your eyes just for a minute you are right back in Istanbul again......

For me it was love at first sight. I fell like a ton of bricks not only for the carpets, rugs and pillows but for the proprietor as well. A charming man! Very patiently he showed me all the lovely things his shop could offer and told me a bit about the carpets as well.

I learnt that the Kilim carpets are hand-woven in wool or cotton. They were originally made by Asian nomads who used the carpets as interior decorating of their tents. The nomads spun the wool buy hand, colored it with vegetable dye and made carpets and woven fabric for pillows, sacks and saddlebags. The Kilims date over ten thousand years back and the carpets are a part of the nomad’s culture and tell us about their dreams and the environment in which they were living. The Kilims are woven in the whole of the Orient. The word Kilim in fact means "weaving technique" and since a Kilim is never a mass production every carpet, rug or pillow is unique. As the proprietor said

- A handmade carpet is not something you use and the throw away. A “real” carpet should last for a lifetime.

So did I buy me a carpet? No I didn`t. But I bought a beautiful pillow. A pillow that was so very much ME that it felt like it was made just for me. And next time I visit I will maybe buy a carpet. Because I feel very strongly that somewhere in that shop there is bound to be a magical and very special carpet….

........A flying one of course!

And once I have my flying carpet I can take a trip and visit you whenever I want to. I could fly to Angela and Cathy in Australia, Lili in Netherlands, Jane in San Diego or Betty Jo... or take a quick trip to Val in Chulmleigh or why not to Gerda-Thyra in Gothenburg or Anna Stilla or..... Now that beats visits in cyberspace don`t you think? So don`t be afraid if late at night there is a knock at your window - It`s only me on my flying carpet!

But until then..... if you ever are in Stockhom please pay Taners Kilim carpets a visit! It’s worth every minute of it!

And be sure to say Hi from me to the proprietor! As I said, a very charming man!

Take care
Jeanette

Complaints choir Malmö

The complaints choirs started in Finland but as complaining is a universal phenomenon the project could be organized in any city around the world. Birmingham was first and then came Helsinki and now complaints choirs have been initiated all around the globe.The concept is the same all over the world. Community members send in their complaints and a text are made and the words put to music. The choir is allowed only to practice 5 times before their performance.

Do you remember the complaints choir I sang in last summer? No? Well, you can read more about it here if you like. I promised to tell you when the performance was out on youtube and tadah.....drumroll....here it is





I sang together with my daughter and we had great fun. If a complaints choir ever comes your way - join it! What better thing to do with your anger, frustrations and general hang ups than to SING it out loud! It makes you feel so much better afterwards!

Go for it!

Genie in a bottle?

The toothfairy lives on the other side of my block.....or maybe it`s the genie. You know, the one that lives in a bottle? Here I sat thinking about a beautiful bag that Anna had made and Poof it suddenly lay in my letterbox. Now isn`t that amazing? Someone has magical powers!

Must be Anna!

Thank you dear blogfriend. You made my day!

Jeanette

Creative at last....

My dear blogfriend Val wanted to see some of my wet feltings......had it been yesterday I wouldn`t have been able to oblige.....but today.....EUREKA! I have been creative! At last....

I have started to prepare my exhibition ( planed for March next year) and I have decided that I will not only show my photographs but some feltings as well. Maybe a few of my recycled items too. I wanted to do a really big felting and this is what it looks like so far.

The black wool is a sort of pre felted fabric that I buy from a supplier. It measure 150 x 150 cm. I had to use my kitchen table.....

The rest of the wool in place and the image is built up.....


Now I have to attach it to the black wool. You can`t imagine how much water I had on the floor! What we do for art eh?

All wet....and my socks too

I usually work the felt in my kitchen sink but this felting was way to large so I had to try something new. I rolled it in a cotton sheet, tied it up with strings and trew it in the spin dryer....

The finished result! Now it measures 60 X 90 centimeters so it shrank more than I thought.

I am going to work further on it with some embroidery and needle felting. A photograph of poppies inspired me. I am trying to chose between two alternatives:

1. Cut it into tiny inches and mount it on black wool again - something like this.

This a smaller version that I did last year and it measures 15 X 15 centimeters.

or

2. Keep it as big as it is with the added embroidery and needle felt of course.

What do you think?

Take care

Jeanette

PS Do pay Val a visit. She makes the most wonderfully creative stuff. One really creative lady that it!

Blog envy

When I surf around in Blogland I often get blog envy. All the blogs out there are much better than mine, has more visitors than mine and the posts have way more comments. Yesterday I sort of “woke up” and did a reality check! Do I want 50 comments to every post? YES my envious mind screamed at first but then I thought about it a bit more and the answer was NO I don’t. Because if you read some of the 50 or more comments the “famous” bloggers get on their posts they seem to be of the cut and paste variety written by someone that only want a return visit to his or her own blog. I on the other hand feel that I have blog friends who take an interest in my life and write very personal and lovely comments. And that is worth so much more!

After coming to that conclusion a weight sort of lifted from my shoulders and I felt free! Why? I wondered. The answer is that I am very good at pushing myself and to question my own abilities and I very seldom allow myself to feel content. So I did with my blog as I do with so much more – I made it into something I had to succeed in and then the fun almost went out of it. I love writing and I love taking photographs and through my blog I have an opportunity to do just that! It was why I started in the first place but along the way I sort of lost my bearings and it became something else. A competion. Trough my blog I have met some truly wonderful persons that mean a lot to me. The live near and far – some much nearer than you think. ( Anna happened to live on the other side of my block….) but they all feel just as close.

So now I am back on track! I write for the fun of it!

And I raise my glass to my dear Blog friends in Sweden, Australia, UK, the Netherlands and the States and thank you from the bottom of my heart for the lovely comments and mail you keep sending me! And the award that Lili gave me.....

.........I give to you all!

Take care
Jeanette

Just watching....

Have you noticed that I seldom take photos of people? It’s a bit strange since one of my favorite things to do is watching people. I make up little stories about them, who they are or where they are going. Once I went to Copenhagen airport to meet my husband coming from the States and his plane was delayed for two hours. I sat waiting and watching and the two hours felt like two minutes. I was especially interested in a young man with a gigantic bouquet of red roses. Who was he wanting for I wondered. I made up a story about a girlfriend and a quarrel ……When my husband arrived the young man was still waiting. So I talked my husband into staying so I could see who he was so patiently waiting for. And suddenly she arrived. Not the beautiful young girl I had imagined but a very old lady with a walking stick. And suddenly my head was filled with another story about a boy loosing his family in an accident and now meeting his only living relative….I almost wept – and my husband thought I was nuts!

Well that didn’t really explain why I don’t take photos of people did it? I am not quite sure in fact but I think it’s because I feel like I am intruding or something. Or maybe I am afraid of them getting angry and starting to chase me…. Flowers, animals and insects don’t usually do that. Except the bull I met last year. He definitely didn’t like having his picture taken. I take a lot of pictures of my family and friends though but that doesn’t really count.

Here are a few pictures I actually did take. Can you feel the stories coming…..

A contract killer strangeling her? Stealing her neclace? A lover? And why is she so uninterested?

Baywatch grandpa? And where are the good looking young guys? On their lunchbreak?

Why are they so tired?

A rhubarb gnome? Nope! Thats my dad acually!

Ooops it runs in the family.....

Have a great weekend!

Take care

Jeanette

Volvo issues....

I drive a Volvo. Nothing I am proud of I am afraid. You see I have Volvo issues…In Sweden we make fun of what we call the 3 V syndrome and the V stands for villa, Volvo and vovve. For you English speaking readers that probably says absolutely nothing but for a Swede…..well it says everything. Let me try and explain. Villa = terrace house, Volvo = is a Volvo of course and vovve= a doggy - or in other words – welcome to suburbia.

Not really the image I was going for. I am more of a 1970´s Corvette kind of a girl…… To be honest I would much rather live in the Batcave driving the Batmobil.

So when I bought my Volvo I bought a black one hoping it would look a bit more like the Batcar. Fat chance. So I went off and bought myself a dancing Elvis and hang him on my rear-view mirror and a bumper sticker that said “ Do I look like I give a shit”. But I still sort of hated my Volvo. Well I didn’t really hate the car, it’s a great car in fact. I just wasn’t to keen on the image it was giving me. You simply can`t be Catwoman in a Volvo!

So I decided I was going to pimp my car! We have a part of Malmö that is called Möllan. This is a melting pot of cultures - Arabic, Italian, Latin Americans, Vietnamese and Swedes living side by side. It`s a funky place and it is definitely the place to go if you want your car pimped. They have this great Arabic car dealer that’s sells lights that you mount under your car that flashes when your car stands still, and enormous sound systems that makes your feel like you are sitting inside a spin dryer and thousands and thousands of other gizmos and bling bling that makes your car look like no-one else’s. So I entered the shop ......

- Excuse me can I get my car pimped here?
- Eh, what you mean?
- Well I would like one of them flashing light kind of gizmos….. A green and purple one.
- Eh, I make your car good. Best car in the city, your car will be. Were is car?
- It’s the black Volvo right outside there.
I point him in the general direction of my car. And he goes silent.
- Hey lady are you crazy! I can`t pimp no Volvo.
- But why …..?
- I have my honour. I am good Arabic car dealer. No one pimps a Volvo.
And then he delivers the final blow by saying
- You want advice? You go buy a decent car!

So I am stuck with my Volvo looking just like a…..Volvo.

I guess it`s ....

Or I just have to hunt Batman down and marry him!

Take care
Jeanette

Madame Cluck

Last weekend my 16 year old daughter moved out! She is going to study social science and horsemanship at a boarding school about 80 kilometers from our hometown. She has been ecstatic ever since she got the letter telling her that she got in! During the past two weeks she has slowly emptied her room and the pile of boxes and bags has grown and it was one very happy girl that finally got to put all her stuff in the car and get going.

I am ashamed to say that her mum has been ecstatic too. I am extremely proud of her daring to take such a big step at a fairly young age leaving home and go away to a place where she doesn’t know anybody and has to take care of herself. But – and her comes the ashamed part - I was also a tiny bit ecstatic over the peace and quiet that would enter into our house with only one daughter home. Having two teenage daughters constantly picking at each other can be a strain sometimes.( understatement of the year…) And further more, being met by someone that is rolling her eyes so far back in her head she can see her hair growing most of the time - well that can be a strain too.

But when the day came to drive her down to the school who got a lump in her throat? Moi! This was a whole other ballgame! Another nest and another flying lesson and this time Mother Hen was doing the jumping. My baby was leaving! This tiny little beautiful new born child with her bright eyes and dark hair was suddenly 16 and leaving! How could that happen? Who is now going to keep her safe, hug her when she is sad and listen to all her worries?

I phone her everyday! She is very happy. And I hear her giggle with her newfound friends. And she says
- yeah I miss you too mum but now I have to go.

I am happy that she is happy. But oh how I wish she was here screaming at her sister and rolling her eyes!

Madame Cluck that’s me!

Take care!

Madame Cluck

eh....sorry Jeanette I mean

Flying lesson

One of the great things with living part-time on the country side is that you get to live close to nature. Very close in fact…. The bad thing is wild hogs and rats. Mutant rats with beaver size teeth. Oh well, I was to tell you about the good part. A swallow and a wagtail both decided to use our stable as a kinder garden. The wagtails nest was directly on the floor under some old branches and I could literally follow the development from egg, to hatching, to tiny little birds. The swallows where up under the roof. I didn’t see much of them only heard them constantly cry out for food. The kids ordering in every day! Not a bad life.

Although I kept a close look on the wagtails I missed when they left the nest. But the other day when I stood in the stable painting some chairs the swallows flying lesson started. The mother sat up under the roof far away from the nest making encouraging tweet tweet sounds and the tiny little swallows sat on the edge of the nest looking scared. Then the mother (how come I think it’s the mother?) flew to a beam closer to the nest and called out again. Soon one of the babies made a wobbly flight to her beam and soon the others followed. Except one. He stayed in the nest holding on for dear life! The mother tweet tweeted, the brothers and sisters tweet tweeted but nothing happened. I could almost see him fiercely shaking his head and saying “no way! “.

His brothers and sisters soon grew tired of him and started to fly about in the stable more and more confident and crying out to each other “look at me, hey look what I can do”. But the mother didn’t give up ( can you see now why I think it’s the mother?). She kept on tweet tweeting from different directions moving closer and closer to the nest. And finally when she was almost next to the nest he flew! A very wobbly flight – mayday, mayday request permission to do an emergency landing – I rushed forward – crash - down on the ground he went. And there he sat. The entire afternoon! No tweeting what so ever made him move. He just turned his back on them all looking like he was saying “ Been there, done that, didn’t like it”. When I went in for dinner he was still sitting there.

- come on! It`s fun!

- No way!

Mayday! Mayday!

The next morning when I looked out of my bedroom window I started to laugh. On the lawn a tiny little swallow came walking very erect and looking very proud. I have never seen anything like it before. And do you know what? I am sure it was my swallow turning his back on the whole flying thing altogether!

>Don`t forget to fasten your seatbelts for take off and landing folks!

>Take care

Jeanette

Add some color into your life ….

Many years ago someone said to me that I was a colorful person. I don’t think it was due to the clothes I was wearing at the time but more because I tended to speak up for others, would eagerly debate and used to swear a lot! If you took a peek at my wardrobe back then it was mostly black. If you’ve always been on the chubby side, like me, that’s the natural color of choice since black is supposed to make you look thinner. Now that’s a big fat lie of course. It only makes you look like you work at the undertakers. Anyway. Up till a few years ago black was all I wore and then suddenly out of the blue color came in to my life. At first it was the odd scarf or two, then a blouse or a dress. And poof the undertaker had turned in to a butterfly!

Now where was I going with this…. Oh yes, I think this black goes color transformation thing is all about maturity! Come again? Well it all happened when I turned 40 and 40 + is when you get all mature right? When you discover your inner self and dare coming out of the chrysalis??? And it’s not just the clothes mind you. At 45 my heart suddenly beats faster over 70: ies print patterns, red polka dot ceramic mugs and pop art. Some of you might say that this is just the opposite of maturity. In fact it’s a huge midlife crisis. My black goes color is really a longing for those teenage days when the best you could wear was a dress from Mahjong in orange and brown! ( Yuck!)

Well I don’t now which it is but I lean towards the maturity thing. I dare a lot more now than I did say 10 years back. I don’t give a hoot about what people think about me anymore. Alright, alright that was another big fat lie. But I’m working on it okay. Just you wait until I turn 50! Then I am going to step out in the world and say
- Be afraid. Be very afraid!

Whenever I feel in doubt about the colors I tune in to Blogland and Anna, Maria or Anna Stilla. Three colorful ladies with blogs full of inspiration!

Take care
Jeanette

PS Yes I still speak up for others, debate and swear a lot. I just do it all dressed up in red!

A red linnen skirt I made inspired by Maria

Friendship

Good friends are hard to find. Is that lyrics from a song? Anyway it`s true. In my world good friends and family is what makes life a life or at least a life worth living. For me there are three categories of friends.

1.
These are the friends that you have a good time with. You might not share your inner thoughts with them but you always share a laugh! Not the friends you would phone for help in the middle of the night though because they simply wouldn`t be there. They would be out partying! And come to think of it – so would you!

2.
These are the friends with whom you do a great deal of soul searching. They know you well and they know your inner story. They are the ones you always turn to for good advice and whom you know will always be truthful even down to “Does my ass look big in this? “

3.
Then there is the third category of friends. They are rare! They are 1 and 2 put together and then some. They can live near or far but you still feel their presence. Together with them you are totally at ease feeling secure, safe and loved. Between you there are sympathy, empathy, trust, loyalty, esteem and affection and together with them you can be your best or worst self and it doesn´t matter either way! These are the friends you carry closest to your heart!


In the beginning of this week I visited friends in Stockholm and it was on the plane back to Malmö that I started thinking of the three categories of friendship. The friends I visited are definitely a number 3. Big time! And they are in my thoughts always! Spending time with them has taught me the importance of “siezeing the day” and for that I am immensely grateful.

Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Being alive is the special occasion.


Live, Love and Laugh Cathy wrote in her blog. Well, amen to that!

Take care!
Jeanette

PS Ooops I forgot.....there is a fourth category of friends – blogfriends! With them you can do a whole lot of soul searching and laughing without even meeting in IRL.
LOL!

Nothing sweet about me

I am basically a nice person and I always try to practice the art of being nice. I know that a “nice person” often is considered stupid, naïve or submissive but for me a nice person is someone who lives with empathy and ethics in his heart. A nice person is never stupid. No in fact he is very smart because he has understood that what we do for others we also do for ourselves. But……

……sometimes you meet persons that make practicing your art very hard. In fact they don’t deserve you being nice to them. Yesterday I met one of those. My cell phone broke down and I went to the shop were I bought it to have it mended. In the shop stands this guy and he is totally uninterested in serving me. Well not at first but after he understands that I don’t intend to buy anything but instead I want him to do something that probably will cost the company money and not only that HE will have to make and effort without having the satisfaction of selling me anything. So he starts taking down notes about what’s wrong with my cell but whenever a new costumer enters the shop (especially young female ones) he starts talking to them and then has to start all over again with me because he missed half of what I was saying. The third time I have to repeat my problems and I start looking annoyed he excuses himself with “Don’t talk so fast. I am a guy and I can only do one thing at a time. He,he”. Quite the charmer isn’t he? This is when it’s on the tip of my tongue to say “well if you didn’t have to ogle every woman that’s walks in you would do just nicely” but the art of being nice stops me just in time. I just grind my teeth. After half an hour of stupid remarks I am finally out of the shop. And I am so irritated and angry that I want to strangle someone preferably the guy in the shop…

This episode got me thinking. That maybe sometimes I should just skip the “art of being nice” part and go right to the “I will insult you right back an feel better afterwards” part instead because being nice isn’t the same thing as allowing people to walk all over you. To remind me of this I went home and wet felted me a purse/ shoulder bag with monsters on it. And a scary message - Nothing sweet about me!

And I will wear it whenever I need to be a bit "un-nice"

Front

Back

Take care!

Jeanette

Sing

As some of you might remember I am a passionate choir singer currently without a choir. I have a very firm belief that singing can change not only yourself but in some cases also the world. Through singing you can "say" things not allowed when you are living under oppression or tyranny and through singing you can unite against the oppressor. Through singing you can find hope, reassurance and faith. Through singing you can find great strength within yourself !

I heard this song for the first time today but it was released on the World AIDS Day 2007. Lyrics by Annie Lennox. It went right to my heart. It gave me hope for the future and reassured me once again of the power of singing! So all of you out there.....lets SING!




Sing, my sister... sing!
Let your voice be heard
What won't kill you will make you strong
Sing, my sister... sing!

You don't need
To disrespect yourself again
Don't hide your light behind your fears
My women can be strong
You've known it all along
What you need
Is what you haven't found

So...Sing, my sister... sing!
Let your voice be heard
What won't kill you will make you strong
Sing, my sister... sing!

Women are the mothers of the world,
my friend I tell you womankind is strong
Take your beautiful self up to the heights again
Back to the place where you belong

So...Sing, my sister... sing!
Let your voice be heard
What won't kill you will make you strong
Sing, my sister... sing!

C'mon my sisters now
Sing loud and sing proud
Sing my sister... sing!
Use your voice to call out
Let your voice be heard
Use your voice
For freedom
Let your voice be heard
Everywhere you go
For freedom
Yes for freedom


5,6 million are currently living with HIV in South Africa. The majority of them are women....

This is a call for the national implementation Of mother to child transmission prevention Programme in all the maternity hospitals in South Africa

Do you want to learn more about the programme ? http://www.tac.org.za/ can tell you more!

Take care and don`t forget to sing!
Jeanette

Time to stop just hanging around....

This morning I woke up realizing that almost half of my vacation had already passed. And what have I done? Almost nothing. One part of me found that good and reassuring and the other part got a minor anxiety attack. The other part won! I started writing lists of what I wanted to accomplish the remaining weeks. All of you who read the “tagged” post know that I like doing lists. This time I hadn’t anything to put down that I already had done though….. I am so full of ideas, projects, creative stuff that my head is spinning but I don’t seem to find the time to really sit down and get started. I crave for some time on my own!

My creativity needs a really long runway before take off and if I’m interrupted I sort of have to start all over again. With my daughters home on their summer leave I am torn between spending time with them and have time on my own. It’s silly really because they spend most of their time hanging out with friends so I really have a lot of time on my hands….but they still turn up on the doorstep asking “what’s for dinner” and there is the occasional washing up and shopping for groceries in-between trips to the country house for some renovating or gardening.

When I read what I had written I hear that it sounds really grumpy. What do I have to complain about? But I have this enormous creativity urge building up inside that it feels like I am going to burst. I think I needed those first couple of weeks to have my ideas simmering on the back burner but now I need to get down to it. So folks, I am off ! Off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz. Well not really. But I take a week or two off from bloging to lock myself in the workroom instead. Hope to be able to show you all some results in a few weeks time!

Wish me luck!

Jeanette


Ps Do you want a sneak peek at my to do list?

1. Pimp the bathroom in the country house – stop it from looking like “ a hole in the wall”
2. Finish making the red linen skirt preferably before the cocktail party on Saturday !!!!
3. Pick a theme and photos for the exhibition in march and how about you start taking a few new ones you lazy bugger !
4. Get started on the recycled art & stuff thing and talk to M about an exhibition in her shop this autumn - that just might get you going eh?
5. Should I start a blog shop ? or Etsy? or signerat.se? and sell my photos and stuff and would anyone really want to buy any of it?
6. Get a tan

7. Get a grip

8. How about losing some weight too while your at it?

Dzien dobry ( Hallo)

Warsaw took me by surprise. In a very positive sense. I went there expecting grey houses and a lingering atmosphere of former communist state and found a busy and booming city full of energy and potentialities. The city took me with storm! Since my sister worked while I was there I had the whole days to myself exploring the city. I walked and walked and walked almost wearing down the soles of my new trainers. I strolled through the old town with its small alley ways, visited art museums, historical sites, and old Cemetery’s and enjoyed the large and beautiful parks. I even managed to cram in a jumble sale! On the whole the city was much greener than I expected my prejudice thinking it would be only grey and that all buildings would look like Stalinist hotels housing only western business men with a visa or the East German women’s team of discus-throwers on training camp. Of course there are a lot of bunker like Stalinist structures and equally dull buildings of a later era but with the arrival of a market economy in 1989 the face of Warsaw started changing rapidly. Newly constructed steel-and-glass towers and commercial posters of gigantic proportions have made Warsaw very much a town between old and new. And that is very fascinating!

On the evenings my sister and I did some serious catching up involving a lot of wine, good food and talking to the wee hours of the morning!

Old meets new! The Palace of Culture and Science surrounded by glass and steal buildings and commercial posters. The Palace was a "gift of friendship" from the Soviet union 1952. Poles often jokes that the viewing terrace is the best view of the city because it`s the only one that doesn`t inclued the Palace of Culture & Science itself.

The polish people live very close to their dramatic and tragic history in a way that is difficult for a Swede to understand. Sweden not being in a war since 1815 and with a population that largely tend taking freedom of speech and human rights for granted. Everywhere you go in Warsaw you are reminded of WW II and the five year long Nazi occupation. No other Polish city suffered such immense loss of life or such devastation in the war. The occupation triggered two acts of heroic armed resistance, both cruelly crushed. The first was the Ghetto uprising in 1943 when heavily outnumbered and largely unarmed Jewish civilians fought fiercely for over a month against overwhelming Nazi forces. The second was the Warsaw uprising of 1944 that hoped to liberate the capital and set up independent government before the arrival of the red army (which was already camped on the eastern bank of the Vistula river). The street fighting went on for 63 days but then the insurgents were forced to capitulate. For the next three months the Nazis methodically razed the city to ground. Only on the 17 of January did the Soviet forces cross the river to “liberate” Warsaw! About 85 % of the Warsaw buildings were destroyed and 800 000 people – more than half of the prewar population – perished.

The most valuable historic monuments, most notably the old town has been restored to their previous appearance based on original drawings and photographs.

The Royal Castle in 1945

The Royal Castle rebuilt

I also visited the Pawiak Prison Museum once used for incarcerating the enemies of the Russian tsar but during the WW II the Gestapo’s main prison facility. Around 100 000 prisoners passed through its gates of whom around 37 000 people were executed on site and 60 000 transported to the gas chambers. The visit left me deeply touched and very sad. During WW II and at the age of 14 my father spent two years in a prison camp in Siberia. When I visited the Prison Museum I was overwhelmed by the sudden knowledge of how much my father must have suffered and how little I know about those two years. Through my father, WW II have always been an important part of my history and has in parts made me the one I am when it comes to my views on politics and human rights. The visit made me want to dig out my old history books collecting dust on the attic and reread them. I also decided then and there that I am going to sit down for long talks with my father and “write down” some of our family history. Not only for me but for my daughters as well.

The Pawiak Prison Museum

I left Warsaw with a firm resolution to fly back real soon!

Da widzenia ( Good bye)

Jeanette


The language ? Nie razumiem – I don’t understand!. I studied Russian for a year in high school but I can’t say that it did me much good. Poprosze o dodatkowe lozko w pokoju - pronounce that if you can! It means can you put an extra bed in my room :-) So glad I stayed with my sister and not in a hotel!

My bags are packed….

….and I am ready to go. I am leaving Sweden for a week in Warsaw to visit my sister. She moved there recently and she’s to stay three years to work. I have never visited Warsaw before so it’s going to be great fun. In our younger days my sister and I really new how to have a good time so lets hope we haven’t lost the touch….

Why don`t you enjoy some rhubarb and strawberry crumble while I`m gone!

Enjoy !

Jeanette



PS

So you want the recipe? That good huh?

Preheat the oven to 200 C ( 400 F)

Put finely chopped rhubarb and whole (small) strawberries in a ovenproof dish

Mix
200 g butter
300 g flour
60 g suger
1 teaspoon vanilla essence or 2 teaspoons vanilla powder

and rub the butter in the flour/sugar/vanilla until it resemblance fine breadcrumbs.

Sprinkle the crumble over the rhubarb and strawberries and bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until the topping is golden brown.

Serve with ice cream!

Midsommar - Midsummer

We may not have polar bears walking the streets in Sweden but it`s a dark and cold country most of the year anyway. That’s why we people up north cherish the summer light so much that a celebration is held an entire weekend - the midsummer festivities. Some of you might say that the midsummer festivities has nothing to do with the light but is only an excuse for getting seriously drunk on aquavit, singing obscure songs and eating herring with sour crème and chive. I for myself go with the light theory. On midsummer night’s eve (or thereabout) is the summer solstice and the sun is up longer than any other day. And that’s worth celebrating. You can stay up all night and the sky only goes a brilliant dark, dark blue but never pitch black. That is if you don’t live in the northern parts because there the sun doesn’t set at all.

On midsummer you have a may pole decorated with flowers and you dance around it! It looks a bit like cannibals dancing around the pot! Japanese tourists with cameras usually think we have gone completely bonkers. We do eat herring with sour crème and chive and you drink aquavit and sing obscure songs. The drinking and singing part probably goes back to the Vikings or something but we were more in to chewing poisonous mushrooms back then. With the eating, drinking and dancing completed the ladies go out flower picking. You are not allowed to talk while picking and you must pick seven different flowers. Then you put the flowers under your pillow and you will dream about the man becoming your husband. My husband usually makes fun of me saying “what’s the point of picking flowers since you already have the man of your dreams” but who knows I just might dream about Sean Connery and who wants to miss out on that?

May pole - not ours though

(Istockphoto)

Served directly from the freezer

It doesn`t get any darker than this

Flowers for the wreaths

Youngest daughter wearing the finished result

For me Midsummer is getting up early in the morning to pick flowers for the wreaths and the maypole and to lay a beautiful table with flowers, a linen tablecloth and lots of candle lights. To sit down with family and friends and enjoying each others company until the wee hours of the morning. And yes I drink the occasional aquavit and yes I sing an obscure song or two but most of all I enjoy the company of my loved ones!

So all of you friends out there, Swedes or not I hope you have a lovely midsummer week end!

Jeanette

PS Did I tell you it almost always rains on Midsummer? But in my dreams and memories the sun always shines!

56 blank pages

Last Friday was my last day at my current job. This past two years I have been working with establishing a “meeting place“ for elderly people in one of the districts in the town where I live. In your old age it’s easy to be isolated and your social network keeps getting smaller when friends or relatives die or move into nursing homes. Isolation can lead to depression or ill health but if you have a place to visit and have fun and interesting things happening in your life well then you have not only a better life but also a better health. The community had an old house with a beautiful garden and I had a two year contract as a project leader and an assignment to fill the house with activities for the elderly. And now my work is done! The house is filled with activities everyday and the elderly have a place to visit were they are truly seen and met with warmth and welcoming. Most of the visitors are in their mid eighties but the oldest visiting is 94. I’ve had a marvelous time and met so many adorable people but now it’s time to move on. I am a “project nomad” and I like to have new challenges in my life. In the middle of august I start a new job as a planning secretary for the chief of community based health care in the same town district where I work now. A planning secretary is a bit like being a political secretary only you don’t work for a politician.

Middle of august did she say? And what the heck is she doing in the mean time? Well my friends I am having a vacation! Eight long and beautiful weeks or 56 blank pages to fill with creative stuff, house renovating, visiting jumble and yard sales, blog writing, nature walks, photography and lazy days in the hammock sipping a glass of wine and reading a book. Oh joy! I almost have to pinch my arm to believe that it`s really true! I haven`t had a vacation that long since I don`t know when. My school days probably!

I promise to keep you all updated!

Take care!

Jeanette

Me, myself and I

Some of my blogfriends asked me what I looked like as a kid. My father was a keen photographer and never went anywhere without his camera. And me and my sister were his favorite models! He developed his own photos in the bathroom and I can still remember the happiness I felt when I was allowed inside to help him. It was so fascinating to see the picture slowly appear on the photo paper. That’s when my own interest in photography was born I guess although I started taking my own pictures very much later…. Unfortunately a lot of my father’s photographs were destroyed when my parents summerhouse burnt down last year. Some however was saved …..

This is me deep in thoughts at the age of four I think.

This is me and my sister playing in the kitchen. As you can see I was very much in to
kettle-holders even then!

Being creative !

My mother didn’t know she was expecting twins until she arrived at the maternity ward and the mid wife said "that belly is so big it has to be two inside". - No way said my mother. And my father almost fainted. Mostly due to the fact that he had made a beautiful cradle with a handwoven basket made of willow ( my father is very creative too) and the cradle most certainly had room only for one. What was he to do? Luckily for him we were born to early and he had time to make a second basket while we were in hospital.

When we were born my mother had to fill out a form in hospital. Since we were born at the same time she forgot to tick the box that stated if I had any brothers and sisters. When I came home from hospital my mother was visited by a nurse from the child welfare centre. My sister was still in hospital. The nurse was very surprised when she found a cradle with two baskets and me lying in one of them and the other one filled with books so the cradle wouldn’t fall over. The look on her face! I wasn’t supposed to have any brothers or sisters. She thought my mum had gone completely nuts!

This is me on my mothers shoulder at the age of approximately 8-9 weeks. We were born 6 weeks too early and I left hospital at about the age of six weeks and my sister a few weeks later. Us being in the hospital was a trauma for my mother. We were in isolation and in an incubator and my mother weren’t allowed to hold us or even be near us. She just had to stand outside a glass window looking in. Thank god the care of premature babies are much better now!

Many of my friends say that my youngest daughter has a great resemblance to me. Here she is a day old resting on my shoulder. Maybe they are right.

What do you think?