Cafe Edenborg, Gamla Stan (Old City)

So the temperature is minus 10 Celsius here in Stockholm, but it's cozy and warm in the charming Cafe Edenborg,  where the coffee is strong and the free WiFi is three times faster, at "low" signal strenth, than my "rapid" (ha!) cable access on "high" strength at home in Tel Aviv. The only drawback is that indoor smoking is forbidden in Sweden, which has proven to be an interesting test: How hardcore a smoker am I? Will I join the hardy Scandinavian nicotine addicts, shuddering with cold as they cluster in doorways to indulge their habits? Or will I see the error of my ways and go cold turkey? So far, I've chosen the Buddhist Way (middle ground): I'm down to about four cigarettes per day (and no, I won't tell you how much I usually smoke. My mother reads this blog!).

Yesterday I pointed at one of the sandwiches in the display case at the cafe and asked the server what the grainy, grayish paste in the wholewheat roll consisted of. "It's hummus," she responded. "Do you know what that is?"

Hmmmm. Do I know what hummus is? Lemme think about that... Possible responses included, "Yes, I do know what hummus is - and that ain't it." Or: "No, I don't know what that is - could you explain it to me?"

But I went the polite route and opted for the cheese sandwich. I've developed quite a fondness for Swedish cheese over the past week - in fact, I've become very fond of Sweden in general. This is largely because I have been hosted by some really wonderful, generous people. Rami, who is doing his Master's in Global Journalism at Örebro University, went all out to make sure I have a fabulous time - from welcoming me into his home to introducing me to all sorts of lovely people.

Rami and I began last week with a joint presentation to the students - 12 journalists from all over the world, including China, Singapore, Yemen, Cameroon, Thailand and Albania - who are currently doing their Master's in Global Journalism at his university. We spoke about the mainstream media in Israel and Jordan, about the Arab and Israeli blogospheres, and about the many examples of bridge-blogging between Israeli and Arab bloggers throughout the Middle East. During the afternoon session of the all-day presentation, we screened Eytan Fox's most recent film, The Bubble (thanks to Eytan's partner, producer Gal Uchovsky, who gave me a DVD with English subtitles). Some of the students seemed a bit uncomfortable with the explicit homosexual sex scenes in the film, but overall the responses were very positive. A couple of people remarked that they hadn't been aware of how diverse the political dialogue is within Israeli society. I've heard this observation before, and it always interests me because it goes to show that, despite all the information available in our twenty-first century, we tend to be unaware of the complexities of one another's cultures.

Thursday found us in Stockholm, where we spent a marvelous evening at a traditional nineteenth-century Swedish cottage, smack in the middle of Stockholm, with Kajsa, Ibn ad Dunya and some of their friends. Tommy, our perfect host, served wine, cheese, crackers and an argileh that he re-stoked with fruit-cured tabac taken straight from the traditional Swedish stove. (click to enlarge the photos, below).


Tommy


The traditional stove


Cheese, crackers and candlelight


Rami and the argileh


Beautiful Kajsa "I don't like having my photo taken" Klein

Friday morning we were interviewed by Synnöve Almer, a reporter for TV 8; I'll post a link to the interview when it's available in streaming video, probably some time next week. Following the interview, we gave a joint two-hour presentation to a group of students at Stockholm University's Department of Journalism.



We spent the afternoon walking around Stockholm with Kajsa and Daniel - strolling along the water, visiting the Great Synagogue, the Raoul Wallenberg memorial and the museum area. Despite the cold and the snow, I really think it's one of the prettiest, most accesible and charming cities I've ever visited.


Daniel, Rami, Kajsa and me: Stockholm.

A marvelous weekend

Friday night Rami and I were invited for dinner at the home of some old friends of Roland Stanbridge, the director of Rami's graduate journalism program. A lovely, warm couple welcomed us to their elegant Stockholm flat and proceeded to feed us delicious food (all traditional Swedish dishes), ply us with wine and schnapps, and entertain us with intelligent, amusing conversation. It was a perfect evening, which ended with us sleeping off the wine during the two-hour train ride back to Orebro, then driving out to Roland's house in the country.

Next morning, I woke up the sound of wind soughing through tree branches, chirping birds and...silence. More silence than I've heard in a long, long time.


Can you hear the silence?

And thus began my Swedish weekend redux: I ate reindeer meat, I drank more alcohol than I usually consume in a half year, I tramped in the snow, I cooked on a wood-burning stove, I watched a cross-country ski competition, I shvitzed in a sauna and - oh yes, I frolicked naked in the snow under a star-filled sky. I swear.

I didn't actually plan on the sauna experience. It happened like this: Lena and Ragnar, Roland's friends and neighbours, invited us for dinner on Sunday night at their beautifully restored traditional home. We arrive and are greeted by gorgeous smells emerging from the kitchen, a candle-lit dining room and our smiling hosts. Hello, hello, lovely to meet you, they said. Well! Let's all get naked and go outside to sit in the sauna together before dinner, shall we?

The sauna, you see, is a little structure on the lake's edge, which is across the road from the house, which means undressing in the house, wrapping oneself in a towel and scurrying through the freezing darkness to the blessedly warm wood-stove heated interior. Once in the sauna, Lena passed out homemade pre-dinner snacks and beers and informed me that the cooling-down method involved submerging oneself in the lake just outside the door, via a small hole chopped through the ice.

That is not going to happen, I told Lena. Nonononono.

Putting her hand on my shoulder and gazing deep into my eyes, Lena said, very seriously, "Lisa, if you do this you will feel wonderful. You mustn't miss this experience."

"Lena," I answered, laughing, "Are you sure you're not Jewish? 'Cause you've got the guilt category all sewn up."

After Rami took the plunge (I photographed him, but at his request won't publish visuals of the great moment - use your imagination) I decided to try - and I did, truly. But I only got as far as my knees. I kept picturing myself slipping under the black ice, never to eat reindeer meat again...

Lena


Ragnar


The dinner table

After the sauna, Lena served up a truly memorable meal. Roland had mentioned earlier that Lena was concerned about my keeping religious dietary laws, so I tried to mess with her a bit: Fork poised over the roasted reindeer and creamy cognac sauce, I said, "Um, Lena, is this kosher?" But Lena was too smart for me. "No it is not," she said, with mock asperity.

This is how I looked after a sauna, a dip in the icy lake, 2 beers, 3 glasses of wine, a massive repast and a cognac with dessert:



The dinner at Ragnar and Lena's was not my first experience with reindeer meat (which is delicious, in case you're wondering). The previous night we were hosted at yet another beautiful restored home, belonging to yet another talented couple - Sune Högberg and Lena Hellström.






Lena and Sune

Photographers, artists and preservers of traditional Swedish culture, they write books on various Swedish artists and crafts. After a marvelous dinner, featuring (reindeer and) Lena's wonderful homemade bread, Sune helped me photoshop some of the photos I took that evening.  Hmm, he said politely, as we sat in front of his fancy Mac, interesting composition. (mwahaha).

And so back to Stockholm on Monday afternoon, where I've been hanging out with Kajsa and Daniel, wandering around this lovely city and adopting Cafe Edenborg as my substitute for Cafe Ginzburg in Tel Aviv.

And last night a major, long-delayed event: I finally, finally met Imaan. For those of you who don't know her, Imaan is a Swedish Muslim woman who blogged about the six months she lived in Gaza last year in compelling, beautifully written posts, which you can read in her archives. Shortly after returning to Sweden she stopped blogging, much to the sorrow of her many loyal readers. But she's back - as of yesterday.

We never did manage to meet while she lived in Gaza, but somehow a multi-ethnic suburb of Stockholm seemed like an appropriate place for a Swedish convert to Islam who is married to a Palestinian to host a Jewish Canadian-Israeli for a dinner of fish pie and homemade lingonberry pie baked by Imaan's grandmother. Imaan and I spotted each other instantly at the entrance to the subway station near her home, amongst all the milling rush hour human traffic. "I recognized you even from behind," she said.


Imaan and me (explaining to Imaan's husband how to click the camera shutter).


Imaan's three children: Amal, Ibrahim and Maryam. (mugging for the camera).

Click here to see all the photos in my Sweden set. Rami's post is here.