ORANGE JUICE, MAN! AWESOME!
More update: a few pix from today.
Sunset and car-light trails, looking down towards Umeå town from the university
and
No books yet, so what else to do with a bookshelf?
and
View out my window Friday morn. The little white splotches are snow!
Update: Well, it's officially cold here. I woke up this morning and looked out the window, and it was snowing! YAY! It's not even winter. In fact it's more than a month until winter!
Also, brett has trumped my carton with this doozy from Canada:
Its only fault is the absence of cocktail flags
This post is about domestic life in Sweden. The next will be about work life.
Clearly, the best orange juice in Sweden:
Confusingly, "apelsin" seems to mean orange.
Much to my relief, I've found a supermarket near my apartment that sells fresh coriander and basil leaves. I still haven't tracked down lemongrass, galangal or kaffir lime leaves though, so I'm glad I smuggled some of those through customs from England. This supermarket also sells little swedish cocktail flags (as seen in the pic). I've bought about 200 of them, and started putting them all around my apartment.
Swedes have really climbed on-board the kebab bandwagon as a tasty way to fill the belly. But it's all pretty optional, it's Ali-Baba-esque, not the Arax/Erciyes/Fatimas level of quality that Sydney-siders enjoy. It's all shaved from the mysterious cylindrical kebab-animal, no succulant chunks of lamb grilled on a shish. And they don't seem to have homous or tabouli, just lettuce tomato onion and some bland sauce.
There's got to be a market for authentic kebebs! They don't know what they're missing! Perhaps if I still go to Pakistan next year (the area we were going to go to has been fairly levelled by recent earth rumblings) I can pick up a few techniques and bring em back to wide acclaim.
Also, not to sound too racist here, but there's something inherently hilarious about Turks and Lebs* with Swedish accents. "Floopy floopy floopy falafel!".
* - can't say wogs, cuz that's really offensive in England, and actually means black people.
Now here's a mystery, which perhaps one of my Norwegian readers can help clear up (I know you're out there). It seems to be impossible to buy tissues in Sweden, I can't find them anywhere in the supermarket! Furthermore, none of the locals ever seem to blow their noses, but mine's going gangbusters. I'm using napkins and paper towels, and it's starting to chafe. Do all Nordic babies undergo a ritual nose-ectomy of some sort shortly after birth? Do I just have a weak girly nose? It's only October fer chrissakes! Maybe once my entire face freezes solid there'll be no more mucus flow. I'll keep you posted.
I should mention that the picture above is slightly doctored from the one below:
Although "God Morgon" is in fact the correct spelling of the phrase pronounced "Go Moron" so I don't feel that guilty about it (the 'd' and 'g' are silent). Also, I'm a doctor now, so I should be able to doctor all the images I like.
Also, perhaps I'll mention that the post title is in reference to an American fitness freak we saw in Israel who had just jogged to the top of Masada and back down again, and was thrilled to bits to see the orange juice stand at the bottom.
Sunset and car-light trails, looking down towards Umeå town from the university
and
No books yet, so what else to do with a bookshelf?
and
View out my window Friday morn. The little white splotches are snow!
Update: Well, it's officially cold here. I woke up this morning and looked out the window, and it was snowing! YAY! It's not even winter. In fact it's more than a month until winter!
Also, brett has trumped my carton with this doozy from Canada:
Its only fault is the absence of cocktail flags
This post is about domestic life in Sweden. The next will be about work life.
Clearly, the best orange juice in Sweden:
Confusingly, "apelsin" seems to mean orange.
Much to my relief, I've found a supermarket near my apartment that sells fresh coriander and basil leaves. I still haven't tracked down lemongrass, galangal or kaffir lime leaves though, so I'm glad I smuggled some of those through customs from England. This supermarket also sells little swedish cocktail flags (as seen in the pic). I've bought about 200 of them, and started putting them all around my apartment.
Swedes have really climbed on-board the kebab bandwagon as a tasty way to fill the belly. But it's all pretty optional, it's Ali-Baba-esque, not the Arax/Erciyes/Fatimas level of quality that Sydney-siders enjoy. It's all shaved from the mysterious cylindrical kebab-animal, no succulant chunks of lamb grilled on a shish. And they don't seem to have homous or tabouli, just lettuce tomato onion and some bland sauce.
There's got to be a market for authentic kebebs! They don't know what they're missing! Perhaps if I still go to Pakistan next year (the area we were going to go to has been fairly levelled by recent earth rumblings) I can pick up a few techniques and bring em back to wide acclaim.
Also, not to sound too racist here, but there's something inherently hilarious about Turks and Lebs* with Swedish accents. "Floopy floopy floopy falafel!".
* - can't say wogs, cuz that's really offensive in England, and actually means black people.
Now here's a mystery, which perhaps one of my Norwegian readers can help clear up (I know you're out there). It seems to be impossible to buy tissues in Sweden, I can't find them anywhere in the supermarket! Furthermore, none of the locals ever seem to blow their noses, but mine's going gangbusters. I'm using napkins and paper towels, and it's starting to chafe. Do all Nordic babies undergo a ritual nose-ectomy of some sort shortly after birth? Do I just have a weak girly nose? It's only October fer chrissakes! Maybe once my entire face freezes solid there'll be no more mucus flow. I'll keep you posted.
I should mention that the picture above is slightly doctored from the one below:
Although "God Morgon" is in fact the correct spelling of the phrase pronounced "Go Moron" so I don't feel that guilty about it (the 'd' and 'g' are silent). Also, I'm a doctor now, so I should be able to doctor all the images I like.
Also, perhaps I'll mention that the post title is in reference to an American fitness freak we saw in Israel who had just jogged to the top of Masada and back down again, and was thrilled to bits to see the orange juice stand at the bottom.
posted by I-Rock at 7:17 PM
7 Comments:
Geee God Moron, ay? Well - the Swedes are certainly blunt and to the point.
Perhaps you can combine our middle eastern whitewash concern with a swedish import / export (tissues, lemongrass / little flags) operation.
Oh, and I raise you in the carton stakes
http://1kp.clientcomm.com.au/milk.jpg
(damn thing won't let me put in image tag in!)
as a kind benevolent blog owner, I will feature your milk of overt gayness on my blog.
Are you proposing some sort of barter exchange with jordan, Swedish red and white paint in exchange for kebab ingredients?
Could be interesting...
Haha. Gay milk. funny.
It is funny, but how do the farmers know which ones are the gay cows...?
One word: Maraca
he he he. maraca.
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