This year's wishlists

The daughters’ wishlists for Christmas this year were very short and after an alteration, even shorter. Oldest daughter wanted an iPhone, a puppy and a jewelry stand. Youngest daughter wanted a puppy and a funky lamp or two. After having been walking our neighbor’s three dogs for several days, ”a puppy” has now been erased from their lists. Don’t get me wrong, the girls still love animals and dogs in particular, but they have realized that dogs do need a certain amount of attention and daily walks – even if it’s raining, hailing and snowing. The girls came to the conclusion that it’s better to ask the neighbor if they can walk her dogs when they feel like it and when the weather is good. The oldest also changed her mind about an iPhone, she already has an iPad. ”We already have everything and we’re too old for toys” said the daughters. I must say, that despite the lack of ideas on what to get for my girls, it felt good to hear them say this, to hear that I haven’t raised greedy children. They are happy with what they have even during the season when greed is almost expected from children and also sometimes from adults. 

My list is very short too. I don't want anything. Maybe breakfast in bed sometime and a weekend when I don't have to come up with the menu or cook or do anything house-related at all. That's all.

My husband always says he doesn’t want anything special for Christmas and then he’s always the one who comes up with the longest list. This year he wants a special camera that can be put on the head so he can take photos while skiing, windsurfing or any other sport when he needs both hands. He also wants a special watch for when he takes up running again. He also wants kite surfing lessons, windsurfing lessons and a dive trip to the Great Barrier Reef. I finished my Christmas shopping for my husband this morning and if he’s expecting to get anything from his list, he’s in for a big surprise. My youngest daughter suggested to me this morning that I should get him underwear. ”He buys underwear for you every year” she said, ”you should get him a pair of boxers so he can see how boring it is to get underwear for Christmas. It’s like getting socks. Who wants to get socks for Christmas?” 

Flowers from the Aussies

I believe that Australians are a happy people, they are content with who they are and the life they lead. This statement is not based on any scholastic research or something I heard on the radio, it’s purely based on my own observations. Why do I believe this? Because Australians give compliments. They say nice things to friends, acquaintances, colleagues, neighbors and even total strangers. Swedish people do not compliment each other very often, especially not if they are not feeling as they are on top of the world and therefore can afford to say something nice to somebody else and make somebody else happy. When I got my new car, our neighbors congratulated me and seemed happy that I - their neighbor - had a new car that I like although my car is much nicer than theirs. In Sweden, the neighbors wouldn’t have said anything to me, pretended like they hadn't even noticed a new car, just muttered ”it’s probably a company car” to themselves. 

Here, I’ve gotten many compliments from total strangers. A lady in the grocery store exclaimed when she saw me: ”You are absolutely stunning and what a gorgeous top you have”. The girls in our daughters’ school think that the daughters’ mummy is ”soooo pretty” and some days ago a girl said to my eldest that ”your parents are really sophisticated. They don’t look at all like any Australian parent I’ve ever seen”. And my own favorite; a somewhat backhanded compliment: ”your parents are really young. Was it a teen-pregnancy?”. Compliments are good, it feels good to receive them and it feels good to give them. In my experience, you have to feel good about yourself and be in harmony and balance with yourself to be able to see good things in others without being jaundiced. That is why I believe that Australians are happy with their lives and who they are. A couple of years ago when I was in Sweden, I was walking down a road with my handbag over my shoulder. A woman was walking behind me with her boyfriend and I heard her comment on my handbag to him, a Louis Vuitton. When they passed me she said ”it’s a nice handbag you’ve got there” and as they got further away she added ”I bet it’s a copy”. Ah Swedes, they sure know how to take back the flowers, don’t they? 

Friday night at a vineyard!

On Friday, I was invited out to dinner by a handsome man at a lovely castle with its own vineyard (actually, it was my husband’s office that organized a Christmas party for the employees and their spouses and it wasn’t a castle at all, it was an old barn but my version sounds more romantic and exciting). I was informed that the dress code was ”casual”. I get nervous when an invite says ”casual”, what is casual for me may not be casual for someone else. Men seem to have a more relaxed idea about the meaning of ”casual”, they think jeans – perhaps even shorts, a short-sleeved shirt or polo shirt. This is what I wear on cleaning day or when I wash my car. Yes, I wash my car these days, it comes with the ”living in a Western society” unless I’m willing to pay a handsome sum to get someone else to wash it for me. When it comes to parties, there are no such thing as ”casual” clothes. A party should not be a casual, it should be special. Luckily for me, my handsome date somewhat share my opinion and never wears jeans or shorts to a party. For the dinner at the vineyard, I chose an off-white asymmetrical dress that I have never had the opportunity to wear before as I’ve felt it was showing too much legs, with Middle-Eastern standards that is. After several busy weeks it was absolutely lovely to get my make-up bag and flat-iron out of the drawer and spend half an hour getting ready in front of the bathroom mirror. 

I was very pleased with the evening apart from when we just arrived and had to park in a large green field, possibly a pasture. My Ralph Lauren heels sank down into the ground and I had to walk on my tippy toes for 30 meters or so until I was on terra firma again. It seems as women all over the world share the same opinion when it comes to ”casual” dressing for a party, just as men all over the world share the same opinion in this matter. If it was up to me to decide, all men should dress in uniforms. Pilots, military men, marines, firemen, policemen; they are so handsome in their uniforms. Heck, even Luke Skywalker looks rather dashing and manly in his uniform and he’s not exactly eye-candy without the white suit and his laser sword. 

It’s Saturday evening and I have to end this blog here as I have other things to do like watching a movie and drinking something. I just want to finish by telling that Hugh Jackman has a holiday home about 20 minutes drive from my everyday home and he’s frequently seen around town. He doesn’t need a uniform, he’s handsome even when he has that wolverine-outfit in X-men. 

Casually dressed ladies

Casually dressed men (neither of them married to me, obviously)

It's all in a day's work...

Somebody asked me recently in an e-mail what I do when the Daughters are in school, is it hard to get time to pass? No, I have a very tight schedule. All the times I complained before that I didn’t have enough time although we had domestic help: I take it back, all of it! I realize that I did have quite a lot of time then and spending several hours at the beach club does not qualify as ”being really busy”. I had often scheduled a couple of hours a day for the beach club where I lay on my sunbed, complaining to my friend how busy I was with the girls and their homework, grocery shopping and cooking, I hardly had time to go check out all the sales and designer outlets. I’m now over my ears with household work and chores and the word ”busy” has gotten a whole new meaning to me. 

This is what I do: the alarm rings at 7.15, I get up, do lunchboxes for the girls, set the table for breakfast, dress myself, wake the girls, make sure they eat, make sure they put on their uniforms and get ready for school, I walk the girls to school, walk home, clear the kitchen, clean the house with dusting, vacuuming and mopping, tend to the laundry, iron, drive to the grocery store, if I have time I sit and work (yes, I do work a little) before I go to pick up the daughters in school, walk home, give them a snack like crepes or something that I baked during the day, help with homework, prepare dinner, clean the kitchen after dinner, make sure the daughters shower and get ready for the night before I kiss them good night and fall asleep next to youngest daughter only to wake up a couple of hours later and go to my own bed and sleep until 7.15 when the alarm rings and a new day begins. And so proceed my days ad infinitum. 

Sure my days are filled with boring domestic work, leaving me with very little leisure time but there is a silver lining: we are living in Australia. So we’re living the dream anyway, a better dream in my opinion. 

Finally a Home Delivery!

After months and months of waiting, our furniture and things – our home really – were finally delivered to our house. Dealing with movers and relocation companies sometimes feels as a Sisyphean task but with time and a lot of patience, the shipment will arrive and life can slowly return to normal. I’m still trying to handle the culture shock that moving back to a Westernized society has provided me with. Here, I’m no longer Madam or Signora, I’m not superior to anyone - we are all equals - and my husband is no longer the obvious Head of the Family. Having moved so many times and met so many removal specialist, I was a little surprised when ALL the crew rang the doorbell and introduced themselves, greeting my husband and me by our first names. The oldest moving man, the team leader I guess, immediately started complaining about our furniture; how heavy it was (”it’s solid wood, we need to be several of us to carry”), how difficult it would be to carry the non-dismantable furniture upstairs as the staircase is not extremely wide (”it’s not possible, we’ll never get it up”), how impossible it would be to get our Californian king sized bed up (”why do you even have such a big bed”?!) and how stupid it is not to have the kitchen on the ground floor (”it’s stupid to have the kitchen upstairs”). I was very tempted to tell the man to stop complaining and put his back in to it instead. Or perhaps finding an other career instead as the business he’s currently in involves carrying other people’s possibly heavy and unwieldy furniture. I didn’t say anything to him other than in my mind where I told him off very sternly. I realized that giving him and his crew a scolding would most likely antagonize them and resulting in a refusal to work and I really wanted our things and furniture to be carried inside the house and not left on the driveway. So I closed my ears, smiled my loveliest smile and at lunchtime I even drove away to get them fresh coffee, doughnuts and lamingtons. This gesture was very appreciated and led to less complaining. The moving men said nothing about the marble table they had to be six people to carry. They did however comment as they left that we have many beautiful things and they were wondering how we would be able to fit it all into this normal sized house. And by the way, they managed to get everything upstairs without too much hassle - just like I knew they would. 

Although it’s hard work to unpack all the boxes, clean everything and find the perfect spot for it all, it’s wonderful to have a home again. Fitting everything into our house will be less of a problem than we anticipated. The relocation company in Kuwait lived up to their reputation when they packed our home: a considerable amount of our things are now out of order or seem to have gotten new owners. After I’ve finished unpacking everything, I will start filling out the insurance claim form and THEN I will put up our Christmas decorations. Life in Australia can begin – for real. 

Beware of Aussie drivers!

Aussies have the reputation of being friendly and easy-going and I must say that it’s true too. Small talk and chit-chat come very easily to them and often the cashiers strike up a conversation with customers. At the bank, in the grocery store, in the department store; I have had very nice conversations with the sales persons, I get friendly smiles from my fellow shoppers and clients. As soon as people find out we are new to Australia, they welcome us and wish us good luck and happiness. But the minute these amicable and outgoing Australians get behind the wheel, something happens. They go from being Dr Jekyll to Mr Hyde in an instant. The chummy Australians show a whole different side of themselves. They drive fast and reckless, they honk the horn at other cars, scream through the windows and do obscene gestures with their hands. Sure, the drivers in Mexico City and Kuwait City were also aggressive, reckless and unfriendly but they were probably not very comradely before getting into their vehicle, not like the Australians anyway. Traffic is where the Australians let out all their frustration and they target other road users like some restrained versions of Michael Douglas in ”Falling Down”. Perhaps it’s better to honk the horn and show the middle finger to complete strangers than picking a fight with your loved ones, just to let some steam off? If you are planning to try this as an alternative outlet for your frustration, I suggest that you have a nice car – preferably a suv. You cannot sit in a small, old or wretched car if you plan on yelling at strangers, people will insult you right back and you’ll get even more upset. The other day a man in an old wreck of a car started shaking his head and rolling his eyes at me who was sitting in my new Volvo XC90. I rolled down my window and asked ”what’s your problem? Never mind. I think I know” and then rolled up my window again and drove away leaving the man in his junkyard-ready car to fight with the driver on the other side of him instead. 

P.S: When I need to let some steam off, I bake cinnamon rolls or something else that needs to be kneaded. That is very soothing, therapeutic and it makes the family happy. Try this instead, much better! 

Summer costumes for Oz construction workers?

Summer season 2012-2013 is here and it is really here, really! We live in a new development and the constructions are still ongoing around us. When the temperature gets over 20C and the sun is out, I feel like I’m living in a music video from the 80’s; all the constructions workers in their 25’s – 40’s are taking off their t-shirts and work with bare torsos! They are all suntanned and muscular and they are working like that, just outside my house where my panoramic windows are providing me with a first-class view. I’m almost expecting them to start singing ”Macho Man” like some Australian 2012-version of the Village People, except they don’t have an native American with a tomahawk in his hand and plumage on his head on their crew. Since I'm a married mother of 2, I have absolutely no interest in watching these hardworking men just outside my windows. I'm just mentioning this in case anyone was wondering what Australian construction workers are wearing during summer. That's all. Absolutely of no interest to me what so ever. 

Not only construction workers feel inclined to shed their clothes this time of the year, there are semi-dressed people just about anywhere. I realize this is perfectly normal in a Western society, I just need a little more time to get used to it. I dropped my jaw to the floor when I was in the grocery store the other week. A man in his 60’s - and not with Arnold Schwarznegger’s 60-year old body I might add – was walking around in nothing but a pair of shorts and flip-flops on. He held his groceries to his bare chest and all I can say is that I’m happy I wasn’t coming to his house for dinner. 

I’m going to finish this blog entry here. It’s nice weather outside and we live quite close to the beach. Walking distance actually. Cheerio!

Exciting shopping where you least expect it!

Thanks to the Melbourne Cup, this has been a long weekend for most Melbourne residents. On Saturday we decided to go to one of our favorite places here, the Royal Melbourne Zoo. My husband however, does not qualify as one of those with the long work-free weekend. He needed to make some calls and answers some e-mails so he brought along his iPad. He found a place in the shadow, between the giant turtoise and the meerkat enclosures, where he set up his temporary office. Just as he started calling one of his colleagues, an Indian family set up camp right next to him and started changing diapers and feeding their hungry horde. They were really noisy so I did what I thought was right: I took our daughters and left my husband to deal with the loud family himself. If you decide to set up a temporary office on a bench in the zoo on a sunny Saturday, you will most likely suffer the consequences. The girls and I strolled through the zoo, finding our way to the Asian food stall where my husband also joined us several phone calls and a couple of mails later. In the little souvenir shop there, dedicated to butterflies and bugs, I found a lovely thermometer that will look wonderful out on the balcony. Who doesn’t want a thermometer with butterflies? It’s gorgeous and it made me a very happy lady. Anyone who says money can’t buy happiness simply doesn’t know where to shop. And I found happiness in the Butterflies and Bugs’ shop at the Royal Melbourne Zoo. 

I did some more shopping in the weekend. I needed a new pillow, the first I bought gave me a stiff neck and it made me quite cranky. Hopefully I will sleep like a princess tonight and wake up tomorrow feeling rested and energetic. Ah yes, and I bought a sewing machine too. I found both these items at the Big Swedish Furniture Place. I cannot sew. I learned the basics in school 30 years ago and I have never evolved after that. Now the time has come to step it up a bit and maybe sew some clothes or maybe just start with a table cloth for Christmas and work my way up from there. As I said, the shopping this weekend made me one happy lady. Oh, I almost forgot, how come I keep forgetting this one?! I bought a car too. Right. I bought a car...

A hat for a Melbourne lady

As the true Fashionista that I am, I was thrilled to move to Australia. I had this vision that Australia is a country of fashion, elegant women and good taste. They do have a lot of shops but so far I haven’t been impressed with anything I’ve seen. I went to a fashion show last week  and I noted the following trends in Australia: neon and tights. Dresses and tights in neon colors weren’t stylish when they first came in the 80’s and that sure hasn’t changed. And black tights do not go with just about anything, it did some years ago but not anymore. But when the designer asked me what I thought of the show, I said that it was lovely and that she was indeed a talented designer. It was a white lie but hey, we could all go home happy and feel good about ourselves. 

There is one accessory that is popular in Australia and in Melbourne in particular: the hat. In this case I don’t mean the sunhat, I mean the slightly ridiculous headpiece you can see female guests wearing at royal weddings. Ladies of all ages dress up in hats for weddings and especially for the horse race carnival in November, the Melbourne Cup. There are lots of fun and beautiful headpieces to choose from, in all colors and shapes and the prices are from affordable to maybe-not-so affordable. I have decided to start collecting hats, buying a new one each year in honor of the Melbourne Cup when all of the city of Melbourne is celebrating to the extent that it is a local holiday. I suggested to the Daughters that we go shopping for hats this weekend, my oldest – my Mini-Me – thought this was a brilliant idea and my youngest thought it was a lousy idea, she has a Ferrari-cap that she’s happy with and claims she doesn’t need any hat, especially one with bows, lace and feathers. I’m sure she’ll be singing a different tune in a couple of years. A lady in Melbourne needs at least one fancy hat, that’s how it is and always will be. 

Barefoot in Oz

I love shoes, a passion I share with a countless number of women all over the world. Although my desire to roam around the shopping malls have been reduced to a minimum since we moved to Australia, my love for shoes is eternal. I only brought 11 pairs with me in my suitcase and I am eagerly waiting for our shipment to arrive in 3 weeks time or so. In meantime, I take pleasure in looking at the footwear of the sheilas in Melbourne. So far, it seems as the ladies either do not share my interest for footwear or they simply have a different taste in shoes. Flip-flops or those textile shoes, Ked’s look-alikes, are by far the most popular. Among the working women, practical, black heels – think governess or Salvation Army personnel - seem to be favored. Men prefer flip-flops on their days off or trainers if it is a really cold day. However, the big decision that Aussie men and women make is not which pair of shoes they are putting on when they are leaving the house, the decision is about whether putting on shoes or not. Every time I’ve been in a mall, supermarket, out on the street and even at pick-up time in school, I see grown up people walking around barefoot. They are not coming directly from the beach as ladies are neatly dressed in a summery dress with a handbag but shoeless and the men have shorts and a t-shirt but shoeless. Perhaps I should find it refreshing after years in countries where men and women dress up to go to the mall but I don’t. Apart from looking sloppy, it looks cold, dirty and also somewhat dangerous. Trolleys, high heels, broken glass; there are a number of potentially harmful situations for bare feet. Put on shoes, I say! I will never walk barefoot anywhere except around my house or at the beach and nor will anyone in my family. I might have to rephrase what I just claimed. Yesterday a man greeted me with a ”G’ day” and I automatically replied ”G’day”. I recently swore that I would never say "G’day" as it sounds pathetic when I use Aussie words. But still, I said ”G’day”. So perhaps one of these days I’ll be strolling around the mall barefoot. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see....  

Do you speak Australian?

If you learned English in school in Sweden around the same time as I did – some 30 years ago – we learned that New York is pronounced Njååå Yåååk (å is pronounced like the French ”eau”) and that a newborn baby is pushed around in a wheeled device called perambulator. Perhaps English is your native tongue? Congratulations then, you will find it a lot easier to get the hang of the Aussie English than many of us foreigners. After one month Down Under, I have noticed some of the following linguistic curiosities:

First of all, women seem to add the word ”luv” at the end of all short sentences. Like: ”how are you today luv’?” or ”have a good day luv’!”. When I say ”thank you”, nobody ever replies with the ”you’re welcome”. Australians replies with ”no worries” or ”it’s not a problem”. ”No worries” is frequently used by the way. When greeting someone, Australians often say ”G’day” or ”G’day mate” just like Crocodile Dundee did in that 80’s movie. Anyone who hasn’t gotten an Australian accent should refrain from using this expression. It sounds pathetic in any other accent, trust me. When people talk about ”Barbie”, they don’t refer to the plastic doll with the tiny waist and the voluptious chest, they talk about barbeque – and Aussies love their barbeques! ”Good on ya” means ”well done” and the friendly-natured Australians say this often. This is probably the same as the Americans ”good for you”, but a ”good for you” from a Swede could very well be sarcastic – depending on the tone of voice – as we Swedes have a tendency to be somewhat grudgy. 

I could probably write some more about this topic but since it’s nice weather and I have some cinnamon rolls in the owen, I say like the Aussies; ”hooroo”. 

In the suitcase of a lady...

I’m quite busy right now, getting organised in our new house with the rented furniture and kitchenware. For some reason, they gave me 4 spatulas but no wooden spoons or whisk or any other utensils that could be of use if I decide to cook anything that doesn’t require frying. Packing our things and moving out of our serviced apartment was easily done, easier for some than for others depending on if you were packing for yourself only or yourself and the Daughters. Anyway, this blog entry is not about the lack of useful kitchen utensils or who does most of the packing but more in the line of what’s in a woman’s suitcase. 

I remember a discussion about women’s packing. Men cannot understand how we can manage to fill an entire suitcase with clothes, although we are just going away for some days, and still we claim we have nothing to wear. I cannot speak for all women, but I’m sure I’m speaking for more than myself when I say that my suitcase looks like it contains more clothes than it actually does. I have some garments that require a substantial amount of space. No, these garments may not be folded in a more practical and compact way. No, these garments may not be excluded from the packing. And last - but not least -, no, one is not enough, several are needed not only to change every day but also depending on what kind of top you are wearing: regular, halterneck, cleavage, strapless... As I had packed all my bras I felt that I had to prove my point to my husband, that I do not in fact have that much more clothes than he does – or at least not as much as one would think judging from the number of suitcases I have. I don’t think my husband really got my point. Instead of saying something along the line like ”wow, you’re right. You don’t pack as much clothes and shoes as I thought” he simply said: ”nice bras but I prefer braless”. A man’s point of view, what more can I say?

At the petrol filling facility

Today I had to do something I hadn’t done in a very long time. Since we moved from Sweden 14 years ago, I don’t think I have done it even once per year. I knew already last night that I had to do it today and I admit, I did lose sleep over it, thinking how it would go today. I’m talking about filling the car at the gas station. In all the countries we have lived in these past 14 years, the gas stations have had staff who does everything for you. Except in Sweden of course, but there somehow, my male relatives have taken pity on me and helped me out. Now I was on my own as my husband is in Tasmania on a business trip and I cannot wait for him to come back – which I would normally do. Or take his car instead. But as we only have one car at the moment, this was not an option. 

Turned out I had worried in vain. Apart from my hands getting a faint smell of gasoline, everything went fine. As I stood in line to pay at the cashier, a man was trying to make conversation. ”You came in the eiheyfoartyfeive?” he said. I still need to get used to the Australian accent so I didn’t understand what he was talking about. ”The eiheyfoartyfeive” he repeated. ”Excuse me?” I said. ”Your caaaar, I sawr you come in the eiheyfoartyfeive” he clarified. ”It’s not my car, it’s a rental” I replied. ”But it’s the eiheyfoartyfeive” he insisted. You’ve got to compliment the man for his perseverance. He was really trying his best to keep the conversation going. ”I don’t know. It’s a silver grey car” I said and left. When I came out to the car I saw it, the model of the car is called i45. So THAT was what he was trying to talk to me about! 

Conclusion of my trip to the gas station: I know how to fill gas in the car and I do not know what brand or model of car I’m driving at the moment. It’s a silver grey car. That’s all I need to know. 

When in Oz....

As we are now living in a modern, Westernized society, there are some things that I need to get used to. Like doing the house work all by myself. People in Australia don’t usually have domestic staff. I realize how good my previous 11 years have been when we had help 6 days per week and I had to do very little by myself, leaving me plenty of time to inspect what others did instead and correct whatever needed correction. I have become a perfectionist. I’m not satisfied unless my home is spotless, clutter-free and detergent-scented. 

According to the online dictionary audioenglish.net perfectionism is ”a disposition to feel that anything less than perfect is unacceptable”. At the moment, my standards for perfect are quite high but I am considering lowering my standards just a tad. Not lowering them so much that it will become acceptable to drop school bags just by the door or having empty boxes laying around the house, but more in the sense that shampoo bottles in the bathroom not necessarily have to be arranged according to size and that the piles with girls’ t-shirts don’t have to be totally straight and according to color, from darker to lighter. Perhaps I can even implement this new kind of laid back philosophy in my own closet? Aussies seem to be a laid-back, easy-going kind of people. I think I shall ease up a bit on myself, not vacuum and mop almost every day, not spend so much time on arranging all the cushions and all the other things that can be arranged and re-arranged. I will kick back, tone down and chill out. ”When in Rome, do as the Romans” is now my new motto. Well, at least it’s my ambition to be a bit more Australian-ish, and that is always a start, isn’t it?

Home sweet home!

It took us two weeks until we found a home. It’s not the Home of our Dreams but it’ll do just fine for the first couple of years or so. It’s a brand new housing development where all the houses look more or less the same, ”executive housing with modern design and lots of light” according to all the realtors in charge of selling the properties. There’s a lot of light all right, our living room with dining area on the second floor has panoramic windows, turning our living area into a human aquarium, should anyone be a couple of metres up in the air that is. This means no more walking stark naked out in the kitchen to get something to drink, unless I intend to live up to the reputation of the free-spirited Swedish women of the 70’s. We have a large and wide balcony from the living room and a small patio outside the girls’ bedrooms. Perfect. I admit – I have no green fingers at all. Flowers and bushes do not seem to flourish in my care. I water the plants, I even give them nourishment but no, I don’t see any results like more flowers or healthy growth. In our garden in Thailand a mango tree and a papaya tree died even with my loving care and attention. Clearly I am not supposed to have any vegetation in my care. 

In a few days we’re moving in to our first house in Australia. Despite having lived abroad for almost 15 years now, we are Swedish in our hearts and souls which means a trip or two to IKEA before we can call our house our Home. And soon even Home sweet home. 

New country, new lifestyle

I guess that your hobbies and interests are very much depending on what the availability in a country is. I cannot say that I was much of a shopper when we first relocated in early 1999. We left Sweden for Italy and despite Italy being the home country of fashion, I spent very little time in the boutiques and malls. Sure, the Italian women are usually petite and I have more of a Viking sized body which of course made shopping less appealing since most of the boutiques carried sizes XXS and XS. I was also pregnant twice meaning my shopping was mostly maternity- and baby related. 

After Italy came the capitals of Thailand and Mexico. Both Bangkok and Mexico City are two much polluted cities and I was more or less forced into the shopping malls in order to breathe cold, fairly filtered, air when we lived there. Kuwait is mainly a sand desert, wedged in between Iraq and Saudi Arabia. The not so attractive location of the country is hugely compensated by the great shopping opportunities and the fantastic sales. My closets were jam-packed, honestly. A psychologist would probably diagnose me as a shopaholic beyond salvation. 

I guess my condition was a direct result of the environment I was living in. Here in Melbourne, I have felt absolutely no desire to go shopping for anything other than food. It cannot only be that the stores have a less attractive shopping to a higher price, it has to be that Melbourne has a lot of other activities to offer. On our first weekend we became members of the Melbourne Zoo and I – the Leading Lady of Shopping – could not believe my ears when I heard myself suggesting to the family that we sign up as volunteers at the zoo. But yes, that was me talking and I have now traded shopping malls for zoos and out-door living. And it feels good. Very, very good. 

How it all began...

It all started in the summer of 1998. We had only known each other for a year when we got married and two days after the wedding my brand new Husband got a job offer in Italy. We were madly in love and thought that we ought to try it out before we have children – three or four – and settle down in Sweden and live a typical Swedish life, whatever that is. Besides, Italy is the country of romance and therefore the perfect place for newly weds. Ah how we ate pizza and pasta! This was before all the GI dieting, when people considered pasta as ”slimming” food. We drank wine, ate Italian gelato, enjoyed life and gained weight. We have lost those extra kilos now, but that is another story.

Now, two daughters and five countries later, we are finally settling down or at least, we’ll try to settle down and see how we feel about NOT moving every three to five years. The odds of us being happy and not wanting to move are in our favor: we’re living in Australia. This is the story of our life Down Under and probably stories from the other countries we have lived in as well. Happy reading!