Latest news with #Swedes
Local Sweden
5 hours ago
- Local Sweden
Why the Bridge Run between Sweden and Denmark meant so much to me
The Local Sweden's deputy editor Becky Waterton spent her Sunday running over the bridge between Sweden and Denmark in a half marathon to celebrate the bridge's 25th anniversary. She explains what the bridge means to her and to people in the Öresund region. Advertisement This weekend, I completed the Broloppet half marathon over the Öresund Bridge between Sweden and Denmark. The organisers of the run made a big deal of the bridge (and the run) symbolising the connection between Denmark and Sweden. At first, that sounds quite cheesy, but life here in Malmö where I live would certainly be different if it didn't exist. It means that you can live in Malmö and commute to work in central Copenhagen in less than an hour, opening up Copenhagen to Swedes looking for new work or study opportunities. Swedes can head over to Louisiana or Tivoli for a day trip, and Danes can nip to Malmö or Lund to see the sights and make the most of the low Swedish krona for some cheap shopping. I hadn't even run 5km before I bought my ticket in February last year, but I just knew when I saw the run being advertised that I had to do it. This may sound odd, but the Öresund Bridge means a lot to me. I've lived and worked in both cities, speak both languages, and aside from the fact that I cross the bridge whenever I visit friends in Denmark or travel via Copenhagen Airport, it's played a central role in many important moments in my life. Advertisement I met my Swedish husband when I was living in Copenhagen and he was living in Malmö. I crossed the bridge when I caught the train to Malmö for our first date. I crossed it when we left Malmö for our wedding in Frederiksberg town hall, and I crossed it while in labour with our daughter, who was born in Denmark. I even crossed it mid-pandemic, when my parents were able to visit Copenhagen but not Malmö, so that my family could meet my daughter for the first time. On Sunday, I crossed it on foot with my dad (who, unlike me, is an avid runner) by my side. That was the culmination of over a year of training, much of which was done along the seafront in Ribersborg looking out at the bridge. Now when I look out at the bridge, I along with 40,000 other runners can say 'I ran over that'. The Öresund Bridge run also means a lot to people in southern Sweden and, I assume, Denmark too. Three generations of my daughter's family have done it now, including my father-in-law who skated over on roller blades (!) 25 years ago. I know that we have some readers who were there on Sunday with their own connections to the bridge, whether that's in their own lives or through their family history. Admittedly, the connection between Sweden and Denmark isn't always smooth. What was supposed to be temporary border checks at Hyllie are nearing their tenth anniversary this year, and non-EU citizens can't live in one country and work in the other without a work permit. It's also extremely expensive to cross it (at least for those of us who are paid in Swedish kronor), and the trains are often delayed or cancelled. Advertisement The bridge run itself didn't go completely smoothly either, to be fair. Long toilet queues before the run meant that many people didn't have time to go before they were due to start, and chaos with buses and bag pick-up afterwards meant that those heading back to Denmark had to wait in the finish area for hours. Many runners even had to queue in the last 200 metres before they could cross the finish line, which must have been frustrating to say the least after pushing yourself for 21 kilometres. For the most part though, I'd say that the bridge has clearly benefited both countries greatly, and has brought them closer together in the 25 years since it was built. I don't particularly fancy doing it again anytime soon, but who knows ‒ maybe I'll feel differently if another run is planned for the bridge's 50th anniversary in 2050. By then, there could even be a metro line stretching between both cities, bringing us even closer over national and geographical borders. I certainly feel closer to the other runners who spent a couple of hours (in my case, almost three) running under and over the Öresund from Denmark to Sweden on Sunday. Even considering the organisational chaos and the frankly terrible conditions, I doubt there are many people who regret they did it.
National Geographic
10 hours ago
- National Geographic
What it's like to celebrate midsummer in Sweden
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). As my Swedish army bike rattles down the last hill, I place a hand on the basket to secure my Midsummer contributions: two king-size sausage rolls and a green bean and orange salad. The wide-open fields of southern Sweden's fertile Söderslätt plain, yellow with rapeseed flowers, stretch out to my right, while to my left, the Baltic Sea has just slipped out of sight, having been there for most of my 20-minute ride from the station. When I turn into the gravel drive, Malin and Christian's century-old brick villa, Källbacken, meaning 'hill with a spring', is already clattering with preparations. Malin and her seven-year-old daughter Edith have been out picking the flowers and greenery that will decorate the midsommarstång, or maypole, which they've laid out neatly on a table. I place my sausage rolls alongside and am immediately marshalled into scrubbing potatoes. For Malin and Christian, new potatoes, dug up only days before from the patch at the bottom of their garden, are central to the feast. 'Unlike Easter and Christmas, you don't normally have hot food at Midsummer: it's about potatoes, and herring,' Malin says. The preparations began months ago. 'We actually start preparing for Midsummer in February," she explains, describing the family's annual trip to buy early-maturing Swift potatoes, which then stand, packed in egg cartons, in the barn for three months before being planted in early May. It feels a fitting ritual ahead of this festival, which originated back when Sweden was an agrarian society. Midsummer celebrations not only marked the longest day of the year but welcomed in a new season of fertility. Many Swedes still head to the countryside to celebrate. Although this is my tenth Midsummer in Sweden, the celebrations I've been to have been low-key affairs eschewing tradition: a barbecue, games, but no maypole. Malin and Christian, however, go all in. As well as the potatoes, the couple provide home-grown chives, pickled herring, Christian's home-brewed IPA, and a bottle or two of snaps or akvavit, the Swedish spirit used for toasts and to accompany singing. This celebration is unusual, though, for the lack of heavy drinking – because there are many babies and small children present. Midsummer, more than Christmas or New Year's Eve, is when Swedes really let loose, taking full advantage of daylight that lasts until close to midnight, and singing and dancing until sunrise. Midsummer is when Swedes let loose, taking advantage of daylight that lasts until close to midnight, singing and dancing until sunrise. Photograph by Getty, Fredrik Nyman In previous years, Malin made her own pickled herring, but this year there are five varieties supplied by Abba (the fish-canning giant, rather than the sequin-clad Seventies four-piece), and she's also made gubbröra, meaning 'old bloke's mix'. It's a salty spread combining chopped, soused and spiced sprats, hard-boiled eggs, mayonnaise and dill. As I'm scrubbing potatoes, more people start to arrive and, as with every Midsummer I've ever been to, it's a mix of Swedes and internationals, the language bouncing between English and Swedish. By the time I come outside, the table is crammed with dishes. Magnus, a childhood friend of Christian's, has brought a silltårta, a traditional cake made of herring and creme fraiche thickened with gelatine and served on a butter and breadcrumb base. Someone else has brought the obligatory västerbottenpaj, a quiche flavoured with a pungent hard cheese from the far north, and there's another quiche with salmon and spinach. Then there are two enormous sourdough loaves, with dark, decorated crusts and some fröknäcke, a heavily seeded crispbread. The only classic dish missing is gravlax – salmon cured with salt, sugar and dill. Once the potatoes are fully cleaned, Malin throws a handful of dill into the pan and begins the boiling. Swedes take potatoes seriously. All will own a potato-tester, a metal spike the thickness of a needle, with a blunt end and a plastic handle, which is pushed into potatoes to judge their firmness. My wife, I tell Malin as we chitchat, is adamant that you must leave part of the spuds poking above the water, cook them at no more than a simmer, and steam them dry in a pan afterwards. But Malin has no time for such fussiness. 'I know people who, after half the boiling time, pour out some of the water and add new water, and things like that,' she says. 'But I just boil them – not for too long, since they're new potatoes – but I don't understand why it should be so difficult.' Once done, the potatoes are placed in a bowl outside to be served with butter and chopped dill and chives, and sliced hard-boiled eggs laid alongside. A Swedish Midsummer meal is often formal, with places neatly laid on a long table outside, folded napkins and garnished dishes. But this year, thanks to all the young guests, it's a come-and-go affair, with guests sitting down with different neighbours every time they refill their plates. The conversation touches on the shortage of another Midsummer essential: strawberries, which a bad harvest has pushed above 80 kronor (£6) a litre, if you can get hold of any at all. I pile three sorts of herring onto some crispbread, its saltiness setting off the sweet-and-sour bite of the pickle, and also indulge in some gubbröra, enjoying the cinnamon, allspice and sandalwood spicing of the sprats. The potatoes are firm, sweet and a little nutty, the perfect partner to the stronger flavours of the other dishes. I also take some västerbottenpaj, which is so rich with Västerbotten cheese — somewhere between a mature cheddar and a parmesan in strength — that I have to stop at a single helping. The silltårta, an old-fashioned addition even to this very traditional celebration, has a jelly-ish consistency that doesn't quite appeal to me, but goes down well with the other guests. After the meal is over, I join the children and some of the adults walking it off in the surrounding fields and picking flowers for the midsommarkransar, Midsummer crowns made of birch twigs woven together. When we return, we get to work erecting the maypole, about three metres tall, with a crossbar. While it's commonly believed to be a pagan fertility symbol, representing male genitalia, experts insist each year in Swedish newspapers that there's no evidence to back it up – but looking at it, I find it hard to see what else it might be. Soon, adults and children alike are holding hands, circling around the pole, pretending alternately to be a musician playing a violin, someone washing clothes, and, in the most raucous of the dances, jumping like a frog. The celebrations segue into a house party, and then, later in the evening, a barbecue. Christian pulls a pile of waste wood from the barn and lights a fire, which we sit around as the mothers and daughters go out once again to pick flowers. 'You have to jump seven fences and pick one flower in each field, and you're not allowed to speak to one another. You have to be quiet the whole time,' Malin explains of this last ritual. 'And then you have this small bouquet; you put it underneath your pillow and you're supposed to dream about who you're going to marry.' This is one part of the celebrations I can't partake in, but as I bed down on a mattress upstairs, I feel satisfied that I've truly welcomed the summer. Midsummer feasts to visit While most Swedes will celebrate Midsummer in friends' country or island homes, there are organised celebrations for visitors. In 2025, Midsummer falls on 21 June. Tällberg, Dalarna Dalarna county is renowned for traditional Midsummers, with folk costumes, folk music and dancing. Åkerblads Hotel, in Tällberg on Lake Siljan, serves a traditional Midsummer smörgåsbord, with herring, new potatoes and västerbottenpaj, after which you can go into town and take part in the celebrations. Alternatively, at Våmhus Gammelgård, an old farm maintained by Sweden's main conservation organisation, you'll be served kolbulle, a thick pancake with diced, salted or smoked pork. Ringsjön, Skåne Bosjökloster, a country house and former nunnery on the shores of Lake Ringsjön in Skåne, Sweden's southernmost county, puts on a lavish Midsummer spread. Expect all the classics, plus specialities containing ingredients foraged in nearby forests, and plenty of vegan and vegetarian options. Once the buffet's over, join the dancing around a maypole erected on lawns leading down to the lakeshore – one of the most popular celebrations in Skåne. Småland Getnö Gård, a resort on Lake Åsnan in Småland, offers a traditional Midsummer buffet – served, untraditionally, after the maypole dances – including a strawberry cake prepared to a recipe handed down by the owner's grandmother. Most visitors stay over in the campsite or cabins. Fjäderholm In Stockholm, the archipelago is the place to celebrate, and Fjäderholm is the closest island, 30 minutes by ferry from the centre. Rökeriet Fjärderholmarna, a smokery, serves a traditional Midsummer buffet, with all the essentials and more. There's also live music and dancing around the maypole on the island. Väderö Storö The Väderöarnasor 'weather islands', a 35-minute ferry ride from Fjällbacka on the west coast, are the most far-flung islands off the Bohuslan coast. Väderöarnas Värdshus restaurant on Väderö Storö, the biggest island, lays on a Midsummer buffet, picking guests up from nearby Hamburgsund. Published in Issue 26 (winter 2024) of Food by National Geographic Traveller (UK). To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only).
Local Norway
2 days ago
- General
- Local Norway
'Gjør det selv': Essential vocabulary for talking about DIY in Norway
There's a reason why the fringes of each and every Norwegian town are crammed with branches of building supply stores and DIY chains like Montér, XL-Bygg , Byggtorget , Byggeriet , and Byggmax . Norwegians can be a bit reserved, but if you engage them in a discussion on a practical subject, such as how best to drain. The only problem for a foreigner, is that as soon as the talk strays into this territory, you quickly get into specialist vocabulary you have never previously encountered. In every building shop you'll find a section for jernvare , which literally means "iron goods", and covers all sorts of screws (skrue/ skruvar ), nails (spik/spiker), nuts ( mutter ), hooks ( krok/krokar ) and much else besides. There are also still ironmongers (jernvarehandel), particularly in towns too small for an out of town retail park. Most jobs will require tools, such as a screwdriver (s krutrekker ), saw ( sag ), or an adjustable spanner ( skiftenøkkel ). You'll need an electric drill or boremaskin. A hammer (hammare) will come in useful. Advertisement You'll also need a spirit level (vater) to keep your angles straight, and a folding ruler ( målestokk) or measuring tape ( måleband ), to measure everything out. You'll need to keep all this in a verktygslåda (toolbox). If you're engaged in a more ambitious DIY project, you will probably need wooden building materials. Wood as a material is tre. Often it's easiest when covering a wall or roof to use rupanel , tongue and groove panels that slot together. When you're putting on the finishing touches to a wall you'll need lister, or skirting boards. Once you've made the frame, you're most likely to cover the wall with plasterboard ( gipsplater ) or possibly chipboard (OSB or spanskskive ). You might stick in some insulation or isolasjon first, usually mineral wool ( steinull ). If you're painting a wall you will need paint, or maling , although to put it on you'll need to mala (paint). You might want to lay on some plaster (noun sparkel or verb spakla). And if you want to sand (slipa) the wall to make it smooth, you will need use sandpaper (sandpapir), or perhaps a sanding machine (slipamaskin). Swedes don't tend to go for this in a big way, but you might decide to use wallpaper (tapet) instead. Advertisement Redoing the bathroom is one of the most common renovation projects, and if you are convinced to do this, you'll need to get tiles ( fliser ), and grouting ( fugemasse ). If you are laying down a new bathroom floor, you might also need liquid putty or flytepakke , to make the floor slope down to the drain. Good luck!
DW
3 days ago
- Lifestyle
- DW
Lördagsgodis: Why Swedes save sweets for Saturday – DW – 06/17/2025
06/17/2025 June 17, 2025 Sweden is a dream for candy lovers. But why do many Swedes stick to a one-day-a-week rule for enjoying sweets?
Yahoo
4 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
Mysterious carving found in northern Ontario wilderness
Seven years ago, a tree fell over in the northern Ontario bush and exposed an archeological mystery that researchers are still trying to understand. Found carved into the bedrock, not far from the town of Wawa, were 255 symbols arranged in a square about 1.2 metres by 1.5 metres, and next to it, there is carved a picture of a boat with 16 people on it, as well as 14 Xs. Photos of the discovery made their way to Ryan Primrose, an archeologist based in New Liskeard and the director of the Ontario Centre for Archeological Education. "Well it's certainly among the least expected finds that I think I've encountered during my career. It's absolutely fascinating," he said. Primrose has been working on the carvings since 2018 and is now talking about it publicly for the first time. "We didn't want to release information publicly until we had done as much as we could at the time to understand exactly what it was," he said. Primrose quickly realized the 255 characters were Nordic runes, part of a language known as Futhark that was used in Scandinavia in centuries past. He was worried some would jump to conclusions that these were carved by Vikings more than a millennium ago. That's why he sought the help of Henrik Williams, an emeritus professor at Uppsala University in Sweden and a leading expert in runology. He came to analyze the well-worn carvings on a drizzly cold October day several years ago. "I was under a tarpaulin for three hours with a flash light, looking at the runes and the others were sitting outside freezing," Williams said. "And I came out with this reading." He realized that the runic writing spelled out the words of The Lord's Prayer in Swedish and traced it back to a 1611 runic version of the prayer, which was republished in the 19th century. "It must have taken days and days of work. They are really deeply carved into the rock. Someone must have spent a couple of weeks carving this thing," Williams said. "And this must have been a Swede. Were there any Swedes at all here?" Primrose said subsequent research has shown that the Hudson's Bay Company did hire Swedes in the 1800s to work at trading posts in the Canadian wilderness, including the Michipicoten post, not too far from where the carving was found. He says his going theory, based on how worn the carving is, is that it was likely made in the early to mid-1800s. Williams admits to being "a little disappointed" that it's only about 200 years old, but says "the mystery around it doesn't decrease just because it's slightly younger than we hoped it was." "Anybody has to start wondering 'Why on Earth did they carve it here and why did they choose that text?' And there's no answers," he said. "But mysteries, they do tend to attract people and this one will certainly do that." Primrose speculates this carving could have been a spot for religious worship, perhaps a gathering place for Swedes who worked at the trading post, or the solitary work of one person. He says the carving was found under several inches of soil and it was likely deliberately buried, but no other artifacts were found in the area which makes it "difficult to tell what's going on." Working with the property owner, Primrose has applied for a lease hold on the land and is hoping to get funding to develop the site into a historical tourist attraction, including a structure over the carving to protect it from further wear. He hopes to have those plans formalized by the end of the summer and then give the public a chance to ponder the mysterious carving in person.
