Oct 28, 2012

As it was meant to


There was an inauguration in Umeå this week! When I left Sweden for Seattle late August the first profound evidence for that the new building for cultural arts, Kulturväven, is really happening, was there. Eight huge concrete pillars aiming for the sky at the waterfront. Coming back here a month ago, the space right at the Umeå River that’s been a big embarrassing parking lot for decades is now filled with the four-floor foundation of a building! It’s kind of hard to grasp that it’s finally a reality. That the new Umeå front porch, which has been processed forever, is actually for real. That the city will be facing the river again. Like it was meant to.

So, in the cold and rainy Monday evening there was refreshments, snacks and for the occasion specially written music, as representatives from the City and Balticgruppen were speaking about the project and cutting the ribbon that celebrated the foundation of this new landmark. A joint company between Umeå City and the developer Balticgruppen builds Kulturväven.

One of the big discussions about this new development is how to make it work with the older buildings at the sight. It’s funny, but sometimes the articles in Seattle Times about the developments there could very well fit in to Västerbottens Kuriren, the local newspaper in Umeå, and the other way around. There are debates about the height of the buildings as well as concerns about harmonizing with the neighborhoods and their culture.

A big issue in Umeå has been the little old stable that’s connected to Stora Hotellet (The Grand Hotel) from 1894, which is located right behind Kulturväven. The preservers have been clinging to it in the same way the developers couldn’t wait to tare it down. As a remission to the preservers, the final decision was to keep the stable, renovate it and make it a part of Kulturväven. Now it turns out that the stable is in such bad condition that the costs for the whole project will be 20-40 million Swedish kronor more than estimated.

We have a deadline here in my more eastern hometown. Umeå is going to be the European Capital of Culture in 2014, and that’s a pretty serious deadline. Because of course we want the city to be all spruced up for that. That’s why rising costs is really bad news. So are delays.

Two beloved city parks are undergoing redesign, and it actually seems like most people are looking forward to the new looks and purposes for the parks. However, one of them, Rådhusparken (The City Hall Park) might not be done before Umeå is crowned Capital of Culture. The start of the groundwork was planned for this October, but that didn’t happen. Which means that the plantings might not be finished 2013. And as most of the year here on the 63rd latitude is winterish, there is not a lot of time to play with, when it comes to gardening and growth.

Anyway, it’s exciting times here. Kulturväven and the new waterfront is the biggest thing that’s happened since the universities were established. And it will definitely turn the city’s face towards the river again. As it once was. As it was meant to.

Oct 21, 2012

A prayer for an uneventful day


-       Can you pick me up at the airport at 10?

Of course I can. Trouble 1 is returning from Seattle after his 3 months stay. Waking up Tuesday morning I am so happy with myself, having had the tires switched the day before, because it’s snowing. Yeah, what do you know, here we go again, one more winter coming up. So I’m hitting the slushy road feeling very safe and so on top of things. Almost smug. Just picking up my son, And then doing some work. Planning for an uneventful day,

5 km later I have a flat tire. Yapp. Just like that. That’s how they happen, flat tires. It’s 15 minutes until Trouble 1 is flying in and I am thinking I can’t let him stand there all cold and wet, so I’m going for driving on the rim all the way to the airport. He isn’t there. No Trouble 1. So, did he mean 10 PM by any chance? 

I am crawling my bumpy ride across town to my tire switch place where it of course on the first snowy day is jam packed with people who just HAVE to have THEIR tires switched. The wait is like hours and hours. But since I was there yesterday they do feel sorry for me, manage to squeeze me in and in two hours I have a new tire.

The snow has transformed into rain and heavy winds now, and it’s not a Seattle rain, it rains like in The Killing. So, a fake Seattle rain. I am really tired but running some errands, waiting to hear from Trouble 1, although he might be sitting somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. Anyhow, stepping out on the parking lot I notice through the rain and the wind scratches on the right front of the car. Great. Just great. And the thing is, this is the fourth time in 1,5 years that happens. A hit and run. The last paintjob was done late August and I was so happy to have a good-looking car again, so this is really frustrating. And more money. I need a discount card at the paint shop.

While this is going on, I am in contact with my plumber. Because back at my house there is a sewer problem. And it’s a big one. I won’t give you the picture of what’s floating around on my bathroom floor, but I can tell you it isn’t pretty. And did I mention my heating system seems to be at its far end?

I don’t really feel like going home to that house, but I am just too exhausted, so I do. Lying on my bed in the rainy dusk I am checking my email. There is the estimate for how much the repairs for my car in Seattle are. Yes, there are a couple of untold stories from my Seattle stay, involving my car there. The only thing I will say here is that it is about a lot of money.

I know. All these worldly problems come with owning things. House and cars. Renting an apartment and taking the bus would solve a lot. When it comes to me, I’m not sure though.

This is not one day in a year. I have a lot of these days. And then, I am sparing you the not so worldly difficulties. I often feel like I am in the middle of a meteor storm. My life is like a short-staffed news station in a big city: I would have no problem what so ever filling the broadcasts but totally exhausted getting them on air. That might be an idea though: pod casting my eventful days!

10 PM. Back at the airport. And Trouble 1 is there. In Sweden after 24 hours on planes. And I too, feel like I have been crossing the Atlantic. The next morning I am sending this prayer to the Universe, the one I am always praying for: please, just give me an uneventful day!

Oct 14, 2012

A village turns 40


40 years. That’s a long time. That’s a lot of life and people and memories and music. That’s a bit too much to handle in one day. Even though I made it a long day. My lights’ weren’t out until 5.30 AM this morning.

I am a choral singer. I’ve been singing in choirs most my life, and especially this one choir, Kammarkören Sångkraft (Sångkraft Chamber Choir) in Umeå. And Sångkraft was the birthday child yesterday.

Getting ready for the day I feel like preparing for a big birthday party and a funeral at the same time. It’s a day of celebration, but it’s also a day of life reflected through memories and long time friends. Joy, pain and bittersweet recollections.

I was a teenager when I first joined the choir, we all were. Sångkraft started out as a youth choir in 1972. Today our voices are more grown up, but the spirit and the musical ambition have stayed the same: constantly developing and progressing reaching for higher goals. 40 years later more than 300 members have passed through the choir, Umeå is a university town so the turnover is quite big. And yesterday people traveled from all over the country to meet in the love of choir music and our collective history. It’s a village coming together.

In the early days, we were all the same age, a very homogeneous group of friends, classmates, siblings, boyfriends and girlfriends. Eventually quiet a lot of us married and started families. We were a tight knit community bringing our children a safe and creative environment growing up in. My American-Danish friend Pete once joining one of our Christmas parties exclaimed, as we all suddenly started singing: “this is like a sect!” Well Pete, I wouldn’t go that far, but I am sure peeping in from outside might strike you as a bit… odd.

For the anniversary I actually did some math, and it turned out that this choir not only has created a lot of interesting music, we have also produced a substantial amount of children. How many? 51! To be more specific; that’s children sprung from both a mom a dad in the choir. In 40 years Kammarkören Sångkraft has expanded mankind with no less than 51 persons! Good job! And for the statistics: out of 19 families within the choir over the years, 12 couples are still together, good job to those who still are!

I was a member for 20 years. Then I took a break for 16 years. Yes, that’s a pretty long recess. But you know, singing together with other people makes you an addict, sooner or later you will have a relapse. Mine came three years ago. But as choral singing is one of those healthy addictions with very few side affects, I am not planning on going into rehab.

So, every Wednesday I am joining the 1st altos, and I get to sing and spend time with people who have been my friends since I was a teenager. I am not among the couples that did the good job. It is sad to me on a day for celebration, a reunion, seeing myself and my history through long time friend’s eyes, hearing me through all that lovely familiar music which is a part of my life and sings forever in every cell in my body. But right behind me, among the tenors, there is my oldest son surrounded by cousins from both his mothers and fathers families. The perspective is a bit breathtaking. And soothing. And Pete: a sect, no. But a village.

Oct 7, 2012

Home is away, away is home


It is so hard to put in words. The feeling driving from Umeå City Airport to my village on the arrival back in Sweden. Making a detour for a car switch. And a stop for gas. And another one for groceries. And it takes like… no time! And then pulling over at my house, parking the car. Just parking it. Right where I want it to be!

It’s like a hundred tons are lifted from my shoulders. It’s like… I can breathe. It’s so interesting, when you are in the middle of it, it is what it is and you just deal with it. Seattle traffic has always been bad, but I don’t think it’s ever been as horrible as this summer. The road constructions creating the Mercer (Street) Mess and the I5 freeway exits impossible. Also, staying at lower Queen Anne you are right there, gridlocked whenever you need to be somewhere. And parking the car is this tired slow race through the blocks hunting for a spot where you won’t have been ticketed in the morning. But, of course, landing on the couch in front of The Seattle Skyline View, it’s all worth it!

Seattle is a pretty big city. The Big Little City, as they say. And arriving there I just love being caught up in the miraculous collaborative project it is diving in on I5 north from Sea-Tac towards downtown. Feeling my pulse rise as I enter the city playing my way between the high rises, excited to be a part of the pace. And there it stays. Pulse high, pace fast, becomes normal and I love it, and yes, this is my place, this is my match, this is where I am supposed to be!

Until I am back at the end of the road in my little village in the northern Swedish woods. Feeling the weight from the intensity of the city vanish from my body. The information attacks scatter and disappear. My pulse slow down and the pace take the shape of soft flames in the fireplace in my kitchen. I am cleansing my mind with Sveriges Radio and Sveriges Television (the Swedish Public Service Radio and TV) not bothering with the commercial channels for some days, and it’s so quiet here that I wake up from the silence during the night. And I am thinking; this is my home, this is where I belong.

And there we are. There is no right or wrong here. I am a very fortunate woman. Feeling equally happy in two places, so different in shape and pace. Home is away, away is home.

Oct 1, 2012

Anniversary picture


It’s been a year now. I posted my first Home is Away, Away is Home stories a year ago, right before I left Seattle for the 2011 September stay. And here I am now, following the flight route on the Iceland Air screen in front of me, just starting crossing the Atlantic Ocean heading back to Sweden one year later.

Writing a blog is a lot like sitting in a radio studio talking into a green light: you have no idea if there is anyone out there listening to you, or who it might be. Working in radio you often get the advice to picture someone to talk to; somebody you know, or even somebody you know listening - a neighbor, an aunt. When it comes to my blog I know I have a few readers who check in every week: Maria B, Rolf, Ulrika, Debra, Randi. I feel so honored by that, and it gives me the purpose to every Sunday crawl up on my couch and tape my hands on the keyboard.

Most of the times that couch is in my quiet Swedish village at the end of the road close to Umea. Sometimes it’s in the middle of vibrant Seattle, where I am creating myself a temporary big city home. Following the statistics on Blogger it’s been interesting noticing that I’ve had hardly no readers in Sweden during my recent Seattle weeks. A lot of Americans though, many more than my friends there, so where do they come from, who are they? Who are you?

One little mystery is my Russian readers. Yes, Russian. The every week Blogger statistics tells me there are three persons in Russia following my Umeå-Seattle stories. Sometimes five. Which is hardly likely to be true. I guess there is some kind of computer program accidentally logging in to my blog, showing up in the statistics to make me surprised and happy. Coloring the US, Sweden and Russia in different shades of green on the Blogger world map, depending on the amount of readers in each country. The funny thing is though, during my Seattle weeks now, the Russian followers slowly faded away, no one left at the end of my stay. I am curious to see if they will show up again when I am back in Sweden!

I’ve had the wonderful treat of five nothing but sunny and warm weeks in Seattle, 2/100 of an inch of rain one early morning, leaving all of Seattle amazed about this highly unusual weather pattern. It’s also been a treat spending those weeks with my grown up son Trouble 1 who dropped me off at Sea-Tac today before he moved over to his aunt Autumn’s for the last weeks of his stay.

Trouble 2 has been taking care of my house while I was gone. And my carport! Remember my carport? Yes, it’s there now, and Trouble 2 has been working on the paintjob. Only, I hear it’s been as rainy in Umeå as sunny in Seattle. So it’s been a tricky task. Anyway, he took off for Paris yesterday for the fall going for his music instead of the paint. And as Paris and Seattle are on the same altitude, my two sons are right now on the same level although different continents doing what they love.

And I am hoping the five weeks of sun have charged my body batteries for the fall and the winter. And on Sundays I will cuddle up on my couch and do one of the things I love; share my stories about Umeå and Seattle. With Maria B, Rolf, Ulrika, Debra and Randi. And maybe a few Russians. And if there is anyone more out there, let me know. So that I can turn on my green light and picture you.