It's another world, not another corner in the one world, but another one altogether. It's familiar but foreign at the same time; it's familiar, it's home, but I'm foreign, an alien on a visit, I come in peace. Some times I have to think of something to say, and I come up with the most mundane pleasantries, or I come up with nothing at all. It's all about adjustment periods. You get used to anything given enough time, even things you used to know and then forgot along the way. It's all about time and presence. I try to be where I am now, I try not to drift off anymore, but that too takes practise I guess.
There's no snow in Stockholm. A bit of a disappointment but not much of a surprise. Spend enough time away from Sweden and you start to believe the universal stereotypes: we're all long-legged, blue-eyed blondes who live in igloos and ride on reindeer as we go hunting for whales and polar bears. It's nice here. I look at my brother's family, their little everyday rituals, their language, their love and I can't help but to wonder why I'm not cut out for it, it seems perfect, why doesn't it fit me, or rather why don't I fit into it, the picture, this way of life, this world, why do I stand out at all the wrong angles?
Well. As you might have guessed, the aeroplane did not crash. It ate up my suitcase somewhere between Chicago and Stockholm, but other than that the flight and the aftermath of it was somewhat painfree after that initial first impression in Vancouver. I've just fed my seven-month-old nephew Theo and showed my soon-to-be-two-year-old niece Milou "Gnomes and trolls" that I have downloaded onto my laptop. I like children, but just like normal-sized people they make me vary in the beginning, but we're all warming up to the idea of each other fairly quickly. Plus, no-one speaks your name like a child who has recently learned how to form words...
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