A Canadian in Sweden

Vasaloppet 2008

2008-03-05T03:19:00.000-08:00

There really is something about the Vasaloppet that is hard to describe. When you compete in it, you are really taking part in a historical event. It has been around since 1922, and even the ski-fanatics that live next door (the Norwegians) have to admit that the Vasaloppet is the Big Race. It is incomparable to any other ski race in length, in the number of participants, and in prestige. You can feel all of this when you are at the start line in Sälen. The newspapers are full of stories like the one fellow who completed his 55th race this year at 77 years old, or the guy who has raced the Vasaloppet 32 times - on the same pair of skis (quote: "I think they are still good for another few races"). Or how about the women who used to race disguised as men before they were formally allowed to participate in 1977.

For a country that feels a bit self-conscious about how they have lagged behind their Norwegian neighbours in terms of cross country skiing dominance since the early 1990's, the Vasaloppet is a chance to say "Yeah, maybe you guys have had Bjorn Daehlie and Thomas Alsgaard, Vegard Ulvang and Petter Northug, but we still have the greatest ski race in the world."
The conditions this year were almost a carbon copy of last year: 0 degrees and fresh snow. A waxing nightmare. you either have no grip, or you have a foot of show stuck to the bottom of your skis. I had decent skis, which is all one could ask for. Swix silver klister with a top layer of Rode Multigrade violet. I had some problems with icing, but not as bad as the dozens of guys we passed on the side of the trail, scraping snow off the bottom of their skis with their skipoles. That had to suck.

Last year the elite men were incredibly slow because they essentially had to "break trail" through a layer of soft fresh snow that lay in the tracks. This year the organizers avoided this by having a skidoo precede the racers, towing 3 guys on skis who cleared the tracks for the racers. However, those of us just behind the elite men still had the same problem as last year: passing was virtually impossible. Sure, there were 4 or 5 tracks the entire length of the race, but everyone crowded into 1 or 2 tracks because the more people passed over a track, the faster it got. To pass, you would have to jump out of the fast track and double your energy output in order to barely pass by a couple skiers. Then, you had to hope someone would let you back into the fast track before you died. More than once, I tried passing only to end up losing a couple positions because nobody would let me back in the fast track. Very frustrating.

The thing which I think is so attractive about long distance racing is how - for those few hours - you have a single purpose of mind. Everyday thoughts and concerns completely disappear. Your only thoughts are "Is this a good pace? Am I going to hard or too slow? Do I need to eat?
Should I try passing this guy?" It is a very simple and uncluttered existance.

Jörgen Auckland won the race this year, after having placed in the top 10 for the six times he had previously raced it. He is a Norwegian, which kind of rubbed the Swedes the wrong way (My girlfriend's grandma was "pissed") but they are a good natured bunch in general and one must say that Jörgen deserved it. He broke away with 30 km to go and raced to the finish by himself for the last hour and a half. He ended up 3 and half minutes ahead of the second place finisher - his brother, Anders. This is quite extraordinary for a race that has seen the last seven races decided by sprints.

At the start as I was contemplating the awful snow conditions, I was reminded of a trick that Bill Koch - the only American to win an Olympic medal in xc skiing (in Innsbruck, 1976) - used. When the snow was 0 degrees, he would just rough up the kick zone with sandpaper and use no kickwax at all. The roughed up zone would provide the kick. He used this method with some success on the World Cup. Of course, I didn't have the resources to do this 1 hour before the start, but I was gratified to hear that this is exactly what Jörgen did to his skis. Interestingly, Jerry Ahrlin decided to race with skate skis, and no grip wax at all. Ballsy. I look forward to seeing the race video, because double poling up that first 2 km long hill must have been pretty difficult.

My strategy this year was to carry absolutely all of my food with me, and not stop at all. I succeeded, but I may try something else next year. Carrying a couple of kilos of fluid in your Camelbak and pockets definitely has an impact on your efficiency. I make a habit of imitating the pros in whatever field I am interested in, and the top skiers in the Vasaloppet carry absolutely nothing.

Speaking of pros, I want to congratulate Dan Roycroft for his 24th place finish. To my knowledge, that is the best Canadian finish in the Vasaloppet ever. I happened to run into his wife Tasha Betcherman before the start, which is a minor miracle considering there are about 20 000 people milling about. I would have loved to talk to them after the race, but that just didn't happen. I saw Tasha didn't finish the race, I am hoping that she didn't get injured or something.

This year I finished in 904th place, an improvement of 13% over last year. Next year I want to be in the 1st seed, which would mean I would have to be in the top 500. To do this I will have to knock off about 15 minutes from my finish time. This year I improved by 10 minutes, so I think that is a reasonable goal.

On learning a language

2008-02-27T04:20:00.000-08:00

Learning a new language as an adult an interesting experience. I have not really taken any formal lessons (outside of 6 weeks of 1 lesson per week when I first got here - which were useless). You don't really notice any progress from one day to the next, but here and there you pick up new words in passing, some connecting are made, you understand a conjugation. Suddenly you find yourself capable of asking where the bathroom is and passing for a hopeless foreigner who is butchering the language. Hey, that is a big step up from being incomprehensible. It is only when I think back to my ability a year ago that I can think "yeah, I am getting somewhere". Because to be blunt, when I try to listen in on a bunch of Swedes chatting, I still get next to nothing. I can formulate sentences by carefully planning them out in my head, using circuitous phraseology to get around a word I don't know. I can pronounce them with enough ability to be understood. But if the answer includes 3 or more key words I don't know, then I am stuck with "Jag förstor inte..." - I don't understand. That happens a lot. To improve you have to be ruthlessly unembarrassable. Say things that you know are stupid, because chances are good someone will correct your mistake and you will learn something. Don't be bothered by stopping someone in the middle of a sentence to ask what a word meant. Most of all, just keep talking regardless of how bad you are.

Anyone in need of an attitude adjustment only needs to move to a foreign nation. Egos get deflated quickly when you go to the pharmacy, ask for some cream for your muscles and the girl gives you Preparation H with a quizzical look.

Viking women had sexy style

2008-02-12T03:10:00.000-08:00

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Radiotjänst

2008-02-08T02:09:00.000-08:00

The Television Taxing Authority. Arguably the most dreaded organization in Sweden. These are the folks who collect money to support SV1 and SV2, the Swedish public broadcasters. They are ruthless. If you own a TV in Sweden, they own you. "But", you ask, "How do they know if you own a TV?".

Well, first of all you must register with them if you buy a TV in Sweden.

"Aha!" you say. "But what if I buy my TV abroad? Then I can watch all the TV I want in Sweden without having to pay the piper."

Not true. Radiotjänst folks take a dim view of any apartment or house in Sweden that does not declare TV ownership. They have been known to peek into peoples windows to see if they have an illicit TV.

I am not making this up.

Back in business

2008-02-06T07:23:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone.

Well, after a lengthy pause in our regularly scheduled broadcasts, we are back in business after a bit of gentle prodding and an unexpected endorsement from Okansas.

Last weekend was the Swedish ski- o championships (SM) in Lycksele. Lycksele is the home of the ski gymnasiet that produced local wonder boy Per Elofsson. It is a nice Norrlands town of about 10 000 people, roughly 100 km from Umeå.

Ski-o is fun. I find it technically a lot easier than regular orienteering since you pretty much stay on trails 99% of the time. So really losing contact is almost impossible. The subtlety lies in choosing the best route among dozens of possibilities. In a good ski area like Lycksele, the trail map looks like a spiderweb, so skiing from one side of the map to the other you can choose to go around the outside (and maybe miss some big climbs) or go directly and get stuck double poling uphill on a narrow skidoo trail. You have to make those decisions on the fly. However, once the decision is made, you can really push hard, which for me is different from "regular" orienteering. If I try to run hard in "regular" orienteering (what I would otherwise consider "race pace", HR of at least 160 bpm), I lose contact with the map. Not so in ski-o. You can push to the point of getting tunnel vision and still be able to remember to take the next left turn. So it suits me far better, I guess.

Ski-0 has a lot in common with the annual orienteering race through the streets of Venice.

I really wanted to race the long race (20 km) on Friday, but my car broke down 20 km outside of Umeå. I managed to get to Lycksele Friday evening, but I could only register for the Open 3 category for the Saturday race. So, no SM for me. I did place 2nd in the Open 3 category, which makes me really wonder how I would have done in the real race. Still, it was a lot of fun and I am thinking about making ski-o my focus next winter rather than Vasaloppet. 90 km of double poling is kind of cool once or twice, but I can't say I enjoy it as much as ski-o.

I just found a guy who wants to sell his Vasaloppet bib, so it is confirmed that I will be racing. This year will be more a matter of survival, I think. No matter how you slice it, 90 km is a long way to ski.

A closeup

2007-06-03T11:15:00.000-07:00

One of my better legs. dotted line is my route, 11.4 is my time in min/km. Winner averaged just over 7 min/km. In terrain like this, compass bearings are your friend, and mine are getting better on a daily basis. Holding a bearing on such crazy rocky terrain is not the same as doing it in a flat area.

Orienteering

2007-06-03T09:23:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone. This has been extremely frustrating. I still don't know what I did differently this time so that the program allowed me to actually write stuff here. It took me 45 min of mucking around to get this far, and as far as I can tell, it was just a random happening that this time I can type. So I apologize, I will try to figure out what the problem is. In the meantime, stay posted.

Other than work, I have been spending most of my time for the past month orienteering. Up to today, I have been on a map training every day for over a month. However, tomorrow I am going to take a break. This weekend was the Swedish junior team trial races in Örskoldsvik, about 110 km south of Umeå. The races were held here because it is the closes to alpine terrain within easy access of most Swedes (getting to sites inland would have been logistically challenging for so many competitors). Before I go any further, let me just say that I have been incredibly humbled since I have started running here. I realize I am not - nor will I ever be - an elite orienteer, but the difference between my performances and the best guys here is just astronomical. I am happy if my run time is double the winning time. There is no other endurance sports that that is true. Even in sports I am pretty sucky at (road running) I can count on a time 1.5 times longer than the winner. In sports I am better at (skiing and biking) I can usually come within 1.1 times winning time of the elite guys. So being happy with 2x the winning time is humbling.

The reasons are multiple, but most of all, the terrain here is absolutely crazy. I am attaching a copy of today's map, I don't know how well it will come out. The terrain detail makes your head spin. The whole region is rocky, so the cliff and boulder symbols are very misleading. Back in Canada, a big boulder on the map is a pretty good reference point. Here there are dozens of boulders and the one that is mapped is the most "distinctive" boulder. Which Swedish orienteers can easily identify, because (as a good friend recently pointed out) their first experience orienteering is in-utero. This is not a joke. One of the women in our club is pregnant, probably just in her second trimester, and she came out to the race this weekend. She didn't run, but she was there. That counts, from an exposing-your-unborn-infant-to-

orienteering standpoint.

I am not ashamed to say that this race killed me. I was out for just under 3 hours, and running in this stuff is really hard (winning time was 1:28 by the way). Because everything is rocky, you have really poor footing, so you always have to concentrate on where you are putting your feet or else you fall. Onto another rock, which leads to unpleasant consequences. Happily, I usually absorb the impact with my skull, so damage is minimal. However, if all you do is focus on where you are putting your feet to avoid falling, you quickly lose contact with the map and then you are screwed again because you are lost. So orienteering properly here requires a really rapid ability to look where you are putting your feet, glance at the map, process what you are seeing, identify the next significant feature (also really hard) and repeat. Add to that the fact you are totally exhausted because you are running up a frickin mountain, and you might get an idea of how hard this is. The only good thing is that if I can get by on this terrain (which I am told is pretty much the hardest in the world) then when I get back to the easy "continental" terrain, which is what we mostly have in Canada, it should be a piece of cake. Uh, knock on wood...

Well, as I said, I will attempt to figure out whatever the problem is with this Blogger thingy. We now return you to your regularly scheduled web browsing...

Verka Seduchka II

2007-05-13T07:45:00.000-07:00

I may just have to go buy an accordion now.

I am inspired.

I (Heart) Verka Seduchka

2007-05-13T06:50:00.000-07:00

So much to say here. Wow. First let me tell you a little about the Eurovision song contest. This is an annual competition between the best up-and-coming bands from every European nation. It is kind of like Canadian (or American) idol, except it is actually cool.

Unlike Idol, the music varies from stadium rock to metal bands to lounge music to solo singers, to I-have-no-idea-what-the-hell-that-was (see photo above). The format is more stadium rock than the club type format of Idol, so it is way higher energy.

Last night was the Eurovision final in Helsinki, and as far as I can tell, the entire continent came to a standstill last night to watch and vote. I don't really understand the voting process, people could call in to vote, but there was also some kind of mechanism where bands that were about to be eliminated could contribute their votes to the band of their choice. Regardless, the winner was from Serbia - Marija Serifovic. She was a solid performer and her song was definitely good. It had a certain sweeping quality. It would be great in a Hollywood movie soundtrack at the climactic point in the film where the action goes to slo-mo and the protagonist, having finally overcome his personal demons and in the face of overwhelming odds, runs through a sheet of flame to rescue his spunky but exhausted girlfriend from imminent catastrophy. You know what I am talking about.

I also have to put in a plug for The Ark, who were the entry from Sweden. Their tune The Worrying Kind was extremely catchy. It rightly gets a lot of airplay over here, and despite their dismal result (18th) they will do well domestically at the very least. They have a simple pop-rock kind of sound. Imagine combining prototypical '50's rock like Bill Haley and the Comets with Abba, and you might be close.

However! My vote (and heart) , went to Verka Seduchka - the contenders from the Ukraine, who are unquestionably the most bizarre band I have ever seen in my life (again, see photo above). I defy you to watch this clip of their performance last night and not pee your pants laughing. I have watched it a dozen times and I still crack up. Not to mention, the tune has a really good hook. They ended up in second place. For sheer entertainment value, they absolutely should have won. They are spectacular. If they ever, ever come on tour anywhere near where I happen to be, I will definitely go see them. They are so over the top, it defies description. The photo above is of their lead singer. Who, I might add, is a guy. Imagine combining the Daleks from Dr. Who with the Village people, and dressing the result in leiderhosen. Watch the clip. Please, go watch the clip.

View from my window at 4 am.

2007-05-12T11:47:00.000-07:00

Cool university traditions

2007-05-12T11:23:00.000-07:00

A recent conversation:

Pår: I nailed my thesis today! (very excited)
Me: Wow! That is great news!

Pause

Me: Uh, what do you mean, exactly?

Pår: I nailed my thesis! To the wall!
Me: Uh...

Pår: You know, in the library!
Me: Uhhh....

Pår: You know, you know! Just like Martin Luther did in 1517 when he nailed his theses to the church door in Wittemburg!
Me: Uhhh....

Pår: Oh, come on, you know, Martin Luther, the guy who deeply influenced the doctrines and culture of the Lutheran and Protestant traditions, as well as the course of Western civilization.

Me: Dude, what exactly did you study? Theology?

Pår: No, I just nailed my thesis to the wall.

Me: I still have no idea what you are talking about.

Pår: It is a tradition in Swedish universities that when your thesis has been accepted for defence, you must nail it to the wall of the library. It symbolizes that no more changes can be made to it before you defend, and of course it also harkens back to good old Martin Luther. Did you know that after he nailed his theses to the church door, they were quickly translated from Latin to German and within two weeks had been distributed throughout Germany? It was the first controversy in history to be fanned by the printing press.

Me: You are scaring me.

Pår: If the answers frighten you, cease asking scary questions, my son.

Back online

2007-05-12T11:21:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone. Sorry about that, I was having problems with the Blogger software. It only let me write stuff in the heading, but not in the main body. I really don't know what was wrong, but it seems to be working OK now.

Maibrossa

2007-05-04T12:55:00.000-07:00

On the first of May, it is traditional in Sweden to gather the community together and engage in a bit of pagan frivolity. Ever since prehistoric times, communities have used this day to light up a bonfire that is supposed to scare off the winter spirits and mark the passage of ski season into orienteering season.

Jan invited me to Stöcke, where he lives to celebrate with his family.

Stöcke is a town of maybe a few hundred people just on the outskirts of Umeå. It could actually be considered a suburb, except for historical reasons. Anyhow, it is not a big place.

My idea of a bonfire is something like a giant campfire. Maybe an order of magnitude bigger, tops. So say, a stack of wood a few feet high and a few feet wide.

So imagine my surprise when I arrived to see this:

This is a fairly substantial pile of wood. As in, it is the size of a small house. You could easily torch a witch on a pile like that.

And here it is actually on fire. It took a while for the whole thing to go up because the wind was against the flame. On the top right of the pile, you can just make out the witch. The heat this thing gave off was unbelievable. It was like staring into the face of the sun. You could not get within 50 meters of it when it was in full flame. It also gave off a huge amount of smoke.

And remember, every town over a few hundred people had one of these.

It would be very interesting to take a look at the environmental impact of these things. There was a pall of wood smoke hanging over all of Umeå that night. Interesting that in such an enviro conscious place, tradition still trumps the environment.

A bit of a breakthrough

2007-05-04T12:38:00.000-07:00

Two small victories today in the long, long road of learning this accursed language. First was in Clas Ohlsson's. Clas Ohlsson's is kind of like a hardware store on 'roids. It is to old men what honey is to ants. I had to go in because I needed a Whitmore thread tap and die set. This is a bit of a specialty item, and I saw they didn't have what I was looking for. So I squared my shoulders and marched with authority up to the help counter where I confidently stuck out my hand and took a number. Those number dispenser thingies are everywhere. Banks, hospitals, hardware stores... anyhow. I waited my turn then successfully, in halting Grade 1 Swedish, asked the dude behind the counter if they had Whitmore taps. I admit that I looked up what a tapset was beforehand in preparation. I realize that many of you may find yourself in the situation of having to ask about a Whitmore tap in a Swedish hardware store so for future reference, a Whitmore tapset is Gangtap Whitmore. I know, I know, you will thank me someday.

But wait! It doesn't end there. The guy told me that no, they did not have Whitmore taps. I then asked if he know where I could find Whitmore tapsets. He told me that I might find them at Laitis (another hardware store).

Then a bit later,at my orienteering club training, I found myself chuckling at a small joke somebody said. Somebody called somebody else Den köttbullar fran Holmesund. This translates as the Meatball from Holmesund. You have to know the guy to understand. Trust me, it is funny. And I actually picked it out of the conversation. Of course I have no idea of the context it was said in. Details, details.

Victory is mine! Soon I will be waxing on eloquently about international trade deficits while wearing a smoking jacket.

The Ten Mile

2007-04-30T14:02:00.000-07:00

I just wrote a lengthy article to post here, which just got eaten by the Blogger software. So, since I am rather upset about this turn of events, you will have to get by with some photos.
Here is a video I took shortly after the start of the race at 23h00.

I ran the final, longest leg of the race, against guys like Holger Hott Johansen and Thierry Gueorgiou, both of whom are multiple world champions. I have them worried now, as they ponder who this unknown Canadian is that almost doubled their run time. (they ran the 16.8 km in 1:30 ish and I ran it in 2:45 ish). No seriously, they are scared. I can tell.

Start-finish area, which is normally the Eskilstuna speedway (car racing)

"Welcome to Tiomila" You know, in Swedish

The inside of our team tent at about 2 am

Riding the biggest darned Dalarna horse ever. Taken in a hotel after I ran 16.8 km. That is my excuse.

Doped headlamps

2007-04-27T09:11:00.000-07:00

Here is a cool 3 minute report from SVT, Swedish television (equivalent to CBC), about the pressing national question of whether night-orienteering lamp technology has just, you know, gotten completely out of hand. Because making this nutty sport a bit easier with better lighting would just be besides the point. It is supposed to be nutty, I suppose.

Even if you don't understand Swedish, it is worth a look because they have some good shots of night-o races. It gives you an idea of what it looks like to run through the woods at midnight.

If they really wanted to make this sport even more difficult, they could station volunteers at each control point to beat the competitors with sticks as they arrive. That would have the bonus of probably making for great TV.

Tiomila

2007-04-25T22:53:00.000-07:00

Tiomila means "10 mile". Tio = ten, mila = mile.

It took me months to figure this out. It is a 10 mile, 10 person orienteering relay which is held in a different Swedish locale each year. I think I mentioned this before. Anyhow.

Oh, and a Swedish mile equals 10 kilometers. Small detail.

The race starts at 11 pm Saturday and runs non stop until there is a winner. Normally this takes about 8 or 9 hours, mostly through the night. This event is huge. While the 25 man relay I did last year is kind of more recreational in nature, Tiomila is deadly serious. It would be kind of like the Boston marathon of orienteering. It is right up there with the Finnish Jukola in terms of how important it is on the orienteering calendar.

I am running on the Umeå OK (my orienteering club) A-team, based mostly I assume on my result at Vasaloppet. I am also running the anchor leg because a) it should be during the day and b) it is really long: like 16 km. Both of these are key because I have repeatedly demonstrated my total incompetance in night time navigation starting with Army Phase training 13 years ago.

This could go two ways. If we are totally out of the hunt for any kind of result because someone screwed up their leg, my run will be reasonably pleasant and stress free. If however we are doing very well, this will make my job rather stressful, running clean-up for a team of guys who have been up all night and have a lot invested in the race. You can be sure I will be checking my controls two or three times to make sure I don't mispunch. That would be a bit awkward.

"Uh, sorry guys - I mispunched my third control and got the whole team disqualified. Hey! We are all human, right? Right? Uh - guys? "

Interestingly for a country so equality-aware, the women run a team of 5 and start at 14h00, so they only run during the day. I don't really understand this.

I will be running Sunday morning which means I will probably drive down Saturday morning. It is apparently a 7 hour car ride. The rest of the team is travelling in a sleeper train Friday night. I am bummed I will miss out on this (I love sleeper trains) but we are 3 places short and it makes sense that me being the last runner goes down later than the rest. Ah well.

I also got some nice team warmups to wear. They are snazzy. It is all about the kit.

Swedish bikini team

2007-04-24T01:59:00.000-07:00

I suppose it was just a matter of time before a blog about living in Sweden would broach the timeless subject of that most hallowed of national institutions, the national bikini team. For all the lowdown, click here.

Back in Umeå

2007-04-23T04:44:00.000-07:00

Hej!

For those who don't know or whom I didn't personally see, I was back in Canada for a week for the CIOR in between meeting in Toronto. I just got back a few hours ago and I am trying to stay awake until this evening to get over this jetlag.

I have been hearing noises about union problems at Arlanda airport with the baggage handlers, but today I got my first personal experience. Arriving on an international flight, you must pick up your baggage and then re-check it onto the domestic flight. It does not get transferred for you. Based on my observations today, I am going to guess that there are some sort of statistics kept about how long it takes between passenger deplaning and the first bags whicha arrive on the belt. From a customer service point of view, this seems logical. However, any system can be gamed...

I was towards the front of the plane and I walk fast so I was one of the first to arrive at the baggage belt for out flight. As I arrived, the belt started and the first bags began to arrive. The automated sign above the belt declared that the first bags from our flight were now available.

There were exactly two bags delivered. After that we all waited nearly a half hour before any other bags appeared.

My guess is that the workers get some kind of a bonus if they have really good time-to-first bag statistics. So as soon as the belly door opens, one designated guy grabs the first two bags and rushes them over to the delivery belt. After that, the workers can take their time and leisurely offload the remainder of the bags. Makes sense based on what I saw, anyhow. My only surprise is that they bothered bringing 2 bags. I am sure 1 would have been sufficient to punch their statistic.

Happily, my flight to Umeå was delayed because of crappy weather in Sweden (poor visibility and drizzly), so I didn't miss the last leg of my journey.

It is all in the name

2007-04-12T08:09:00.000-07:00

As I was surfing around, I stumbled on this interesting site authored by the very clever Dr. Jeffrey Lewis.

No, not the Jeffrey Lewis most of you know. The other Dr. Lewis :

"is Director of the Nuclear Strategy and Nonproliferation Initiative at the New America Foundation. Dr. Lewis is the author of Minimum Means of Reprisal: China’s Search for Security in the Nuclear Age (MIT Press, 2007). Dr. Lewis is a research affiliate with the Project on Managing the Atom at Harvard University and a member of the Editorial Advisory Board of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists."

He is about an order of magnitude smarter than I will ever be. He is unquestionably an artsy type (Poli-sci is my guess) but he does it very well. Dr. Lewis researches and blogs about nuclear proliferation, uranium enrichment and big picture WMD stuff.

I study dirt and blog about Swedish coffee slurpers.

Heh.

Coffee slurping

2007-04-12T07:05:00.000-07:00

It seems that just as I am settling in here and getting used to Swedish quirks and thinking I have really seen it all, I suddenly get hit by something that makes me realize there is still so much about this place I need to discover.

I was sitting at lunch today with several colleagues. Standard practise at lunch is to eat together and then whoever is finished eating first takes the coffee orders for the whole table and goes to the machine to fetch the 5-8 mugs. Today I was sitting with a colleague I don't often sit with and he asked for a lump of sugar. Instead of putting it in the coffee and letting it dissolve, he held it in his teeth and slurped the coffee over the lump. I sat there with my mouth open then started to laugh. I thought he was intentionally trying to be absurd.

Nope.

Turns out, this is a common practise among older Swedes. Wait, it gets better.

The folks at my table also told me that it is common practise among older Swedes to take their mug of coffee and pour it into the saucer, then slurp the coffee from the saucer (with the lump of sugar between your teeth). The reasoning is sound: Coffee here is steeped, not perked, so it is usually extremely hot. Pouring it into the saucer lets it cool enough to... well, to slurp.

I have not personally seen this - yet. However, I will be watching closely the next time I go to a coffee shop.

And no, this was not a late April Fools joke. At least, I am pretty sure it wasn't. Everyone seemed quite sincere. Hmmm....

Cultural differences as seen through a compass

2007-04-11T08:05:00.000-07:00

Over at the OKansas blog there have been a few posts recently about the differences between orienteers in the U.S. (which I will extend to Canada) and Sweden. There are a few interesting and valid points brought up, but one of the stories he recounts made me think of something almost identical that happened to me last fall.

I was running a classic distance race just outside of Umeå and was doing reasonably well. For me, that means running fast and just being on the edge of losing track of where I am on the map. I was running in a beautiful open forest with some good rock features and was just finishing a fairly long (1 km or so) leg. I was on the edge of losing contact with the map, and some of the features weren't lining up the way I expected, so I stopped to relocate. I was standing there for maybe 5 seconds when a little kid (I would guess maybe 11 to 13 years old) ran up to me and asked (in English) if I knew where we were. I felt kind of bad because I wanted to help him, but I really wasn't 100% sure where we were. So just as I was about to say this, he points at my map and says "We are here, just beside that rock."

Ah. How to make a grown Canadian feel like a moron in 1 easy step. And I agree with OKansas: that would never, ever happen in North America.

Some pics from Denmark

2007-04-08T12:52:00.000-07:00

Squatters paradise: Christiania

(aka: how a third world country would look if it were run by hippies)

Some delish smørbrod at Cap Horn. Notice the beer and schnapps.

That Hamlet's castle thingy

One guess where I saw this poster. It starts with C and rhymes with "Ristiania"
(The maple leaf dripping with blood was a nice touch, I thought. Morons)

Me, Lene and Rolf.

Oh crap

2007-04-08T11:58:00.000-07:00

I was just invited onto Facebook for the first time, and therefore had my first reason to sign up. I feel even more of my life getting sucked into the on-line time pit...

Denmark

2007-04-08T09:03:00.000-07:00

Nice place. I will happily return, despite the lack of snow.

As you may have figured out from my last post, I was kindly hosted by a Danish couple I had never even met before, Rolf Lund and Lene Jensen. If you are Danish, you may have heard of Rolf, because he has sold over 100 000 cookbooks (in a country of 6 million). They are basically books about cooking well on a shoestring. He has published six books, all called "Fattig røvens". Apparently this is an expression which describes someone who is poor but happy, or so Rolf explained to me. Rolf is also an amazing orienteer, at 50 he kicks my ass. I don't feel bad, though, because he is national champion in his age group, and is a former national team member. Same with Lene. We got along like a house on fire. Lene keeps chickens in the backyard, in the middle of town. Apparently municipal regulations are flexible about keeping livestock within town limits. I thought this was awesome, and of course with Rolf's culinary skills I enjoyed fresh eggs in the morning and amazing meals for dinner.

Rold and Lene live up in Helsingør. This may ring a bell, because Shakespeare set Hamlet in the castle in Helsingør. You know, the whole "Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo" thing.

Uh, wait, thats not right is it?

Um... "Out! out! damn spot!" ?

Heh heh. Uh, maybe not. Hey, I'm an engineer! Cut me some slack here.

"To be or not to be, that is the question"

That's it, I knew it would come eventually. So yeah, Hamlet was set in that very town, which even as an engineer I thought was pretty cool. Although Shakespeare apparently never set foot there.

Helsingør castle was built at the narrowest point between Sweden and Denmark, so the Danes could levy stiff taxes on any ships sailing the straits. Since it was the only way to get to ports in Germany, this was apparently quite lucrative for the Danes for a few centuries.

Orienteering was quite good too. By that I mean I didn't embarrass myself and placed solidly middle of the pack for the two classic races Thursday and Friday. I even managed to improve quite a bit between the two days. I think orienteering is one of the best ways to visit a place, because you get to see the countryside in rather intimate detail. Also, the races tend to be in rather pretty areas. If you go to an orienteering race, you are kind of guaranteed to see something nice.

Copenhagen was also nice, with the exception of the freak show that is Christiania.

Christiania is basically a holdover commune from the '70s. Hippies tore down a fence on an abandoned military base and declared themselves the free state of Christiania in 1971. They have been there ever since - a population fluctuating between 800 and 1000. They are all about free love, man, and peace and contentment, and new age and all that.

Also, they are apparently all about ramshackle buildings, lots of graffitti and so many drugs, the main street is actually named "Pusher street." I found it quite charming to be told in no uncertain terms by a guy who was clearly not getting much of that free love that if I didn't stop taking photos, I would "regret it". Allllready then. So much for this Free Love social experiment with no central government, hum? Apparently, the Danish government has been getting antsy over the past few years to retake Christiania (it is in a very prime location), and they have set the wheels in motion for this to happen. The only thing I find surprising about this is that it hasn't happened sooner. Denmark has basically allowed a bunch of people to live here tax and rent free for over 30 years. For some reason, Lonely Planet (who publish tourist books) finds it tragic that this brave social experiment will soon be snuffed out. All I can say as a visitor is: get on with it, already. This place gave me the creeps. Interesting fact (from Rolf): for all their idealism about inclusion and equality etc etc, there are no immigrants at all in Christiania. Interesting.

However, Copenhagen as a whole is a great city, with a really nice pedestrian mall that is apparently the longest outdoor mall in the world. I also rather enjoyed the smørbrod and schnapps. Smørbrod is just a fancy name for an open face sandwich, but the Danes are known for it, and they elevate it to an art. I heartily encourage anyone visiting to go to Cap Horn on Nyhavn. This is probably the most photographed street in Copenhagen, and rightfully so. Although I suspect I was doing a typical tourist thing by eating there, I still recommend it. It was delish.

10 rules for being a gracious visitor

2007-04-07T07:59:00.000-07:00

1) Don't ever talk about yourself unless asked. If asked, reply briefly, completely and honestly then use the subject to lead into a question for your host. Do not exaggerate anything, ever.

2) Ask lots of questions. Be curious and show a genuine interest in your hosts and your host's interests.

3) Always smile and be enthusiastic. Again, be genuine. Nothing is worse than fake enthusiasm. Never, ever say anything negative about anyone or anything under any circumstances. Nobody likes bad energy, regardless of whether it is true or not.

4) Help out in a small chore without being asked. Helping out in a big chore will probably make your host uncomfortable no matter how much you insist you want to do it.

5) Be neat.

6) Do your bed.

7) Be effusive in your praise and thank your host repeatedly. Once again, be genuine.

8) Go with the flow. You do not dictate the pace of things in someone else's home.

9) Make an honest effort to speak their language, even if you butcher it. The effort is always appreciated. At the very least, learn how to say 'Thank you' and 'Please' in their language.

10) Put on your shoes before final goodbyes. If you say goodbye then put on your shoes, there is always a minute or two of awkward silence when neither of you know quite what to say.

These rules are not negotiable if you wish to leave a good impression and hope to be invited back. When people host you, they probably realize that the chances of being repaid in kind are very slim. They host you because you seem nice and interesting and because everyone enjoys the feeling of altruism. As a guest you need to understand these motivations and do your part to fulfill your end of the bargain.

You know you are doing well when your hosts offer to set you up with their neices within 24 hours of meeting them.

Vikings and Andre Boisclair

2007-04-04T11:45:00.000-07:00

I will put money down that that title has never appeared anywhere in any format, in the history of the world.

I have been reading up on the Danish Viking history. They put a lot more stock in their Viking past than the Swedes do. Even more than the Norwegians, it seems. And in reading about these Vikings, it has occurred to me that many of these guys had awesome names. Erik the Red! Canute the Great! Magnus the Strong! Now those are names of leaders. Which brings us to Andre Boisclair, whose family name can arguably be translated from French as "Smoothwood". I could easily insert an inappropriate joke here, but will refrain out of respect for wood products. For my non-Canadian readership, Andre is the first openly gay leader of the separatist Parti Quebecois.

I think that there should be a rule allowing the population to vote on a public figure's name one year after they have come to office. I think this would keep a lot of politicians on the straight and narrow. Who would want to be tagged with a name like "The dishonest" or "the adulturer" for the rest of their lives? Here are some of my offerings.

Stephane Dion the Green (or: the Floundering)
Jack Layton the Irrelevant
Sheila Fraser the Honest
Stephen Harper the Scary (ed. note: I don't particularly subscribe to this, but if the names were voted on, I think the population of the Greater Toronto Area would wrap this up pretty quickly)
Segolene Royal the Surprising
Andre Boisclair the Smoothwood. (You just can't improve on that, really)

Other suggestions? Lets hear them!

Big Question: Who in Canadian politics would warrant the moniker "The Great"? Historical figures count.

Copenhagen

2007-04-04T11:43:00.000-07:00

Nobody jaywalks here. Ever.

I have stood at a street crossing with at least two dozen people with no traffic at all in either direction for over 100 meters and still everyone patiently waited for the green pedestrian sign to go on. When I stepped into the street to cross, there was an audible gasp from the assembled crowd. I kid you not.

Denmark

2007-04-03T21:01:00.000-07:00

I am off to the first orienteering races of the season in Denmark this morning.

Unlike Norway, I cannot say that Denmark has been a country I have been itching to see. I am happy to add it to my list of visited nations because it is Scandinavian, but in my mind, Denmark has always been the poor second cousin of her her northern neighbours because 1) it is small and 2) it has no snow. Somehow, a Scandinavian country without snow just seems very wrong. And I need not mention that Denmark has no skiers worthy of any note, a serious black mark on any country in my books.

OK, OK, I know that Denmark has a proud history and that it was actually the seat of the kingdom over all Scandinavia at one point. Plus I have heard they have excellent orienteering, which is a plus. I will reserve my final opinion on the matter until I have actually been there.

I get back Sunday evening, photos to follow.

Happy Easter, everybody!

Enough

2007-04-01T03:43:00.000-07:00

I have put a lot of thought into this over the past few weeks, and I've decided that writing this blog has just become too onerous. It isn't as much fun as it used to be, and it takes a surprising amount of time. So, this will be my last post.

April fools!

Wedding part III

2007-04-01T00:48:00.000-07:00

"I just wanted to cut the crap."

That would be the quote of the day, folks. Following the ceremony (which took 5 minutes, tops) I congratulated Jörgen and Eva on a the great plan for their wedding: outdoors and brief. The above was Jörgen's cheerful reply.

Afterwards we repaired to the Stöcke community center for the reception, where I was introduced to another most excellent Swedish tradition: guys are allowed - nay, encouraged! - to make out with the bride if you should catch her when the groom is out of the room. Since Eva was looking particularly hot, this tradition was scrupulously observed. I found it a bit odd, but hey, when in Rome... :-) Ladies, you should know that of course in the Swedish People's Republic of Equality, this tradition goes both ways, and I watched Jörgen get mauled by Eva's aunt.

Here are some pics.

Bride and groom. Notice wood smoke drifting around. Cool.

Swedish dress at weddings: three piece suits and hiking boots.

Swedish wedding, or auditions for The Matrix IV? You be the judge.

Wedding part II

2007-03-31T05:22:00.000-07:00

So I have been trying to find out details about what to wear. I get the distinct impression that weddings happen so infrequently, nobody really knows anymore. Answers have varied from "goretex jacket" to "suit and tie" to "shirt & tie".

The wedding has yet to start and it is already entertaining.

Wedding

2007-03-31T01:37:00.000-07:00

No, not mine.

Today my friend Jörgen is getting hitched. This is extremely unusual in Sweden, so all the old folks are all excited. Jörgen and Eva are getting married outside and happily it looks like a rather nice day. Overcast, but warm and not too windy. This presents a bit of a dress issue, however. We will be outside for quite a while, in a park beside the Baltic. It will probably be quite muddy. So although a suit is in order, what to do for footwear? I am kind of leaning towards my hiking boots. Jörgen will appreciate that, I think. He is about the outdoorsiest guy I know. Kind of like a Swedish Paul Bunyan.

I will get some photos to post later on. I don't know how long this will go - the reception could go on for quite a while.

One interesting thing about this wedding is that instead of gifts, Jörgen and Eva have asked their guests to contribute to the cost of the reception. This seems quite intelligent. They are both adults, and have their household established (they have lived together for a few years) so they don't need 5 more toasters. However, having a nice party for their wedding could be quite expensive so a contribution from the guests in lieu of a gift makes sense.

OK, I have to go for a run before I get dressed. Later

Luck

2007-03-28T08:25:00.000-07:00

When someone in North America says "Geez, you're lucky" the implicit meaning seems to be that you have been the benefactor of a fortunate but random circumstance. As we spend our time sitting on this little blue marble on the western spiral arm of the Milky Way galaxy, sometimes things fall into place and you happen to be in the right place at the right time.

Not so in Sweden. When someone says your are lucky, they seem to mean that luck is a skill or a personal quality, like having nice teeth or a good combover. In other words, the implied meaning is that luck is a personal trait. Some people have it, some people don't.

Now, don't get me wrong here. I have not interviewed a bunch of Swedes about their views on this. It just occurred to me today when someone told me I was lucky. It is just that the way they said it left me feeling like somehow they thought I had something to do with it. As if I had skilfully managed my luckiness.

I seem to recall that the Vikings thought that luck was even more important a quality in a leader than intelligence. Given the Viking job description (sail uncharted waters and attack heavily defended forts while wearing a loincloth) I could see how you would want to delude yourself that maybe the Gods were smiling on the the dude who was calling the shots.

Now, I will admit that I have had a streak of unusual good fortune the past few years. I seem to end up in the right place at the right time for good things to happen. But is it a skill? Hmmm. Perhaps that isn't so outlandish as it sounds. Being lucky is probably heavily related to having decent people skills. When people like you, good things happen. And nobody would deny that people skills are - well, a skill. Even stuff that seems random can be traced back to knowing someone who got you in touch with someone...

My car is a great example. When I arrived here, one of my friends (and a regular reader), Nevin told me he thought he had heard that some folks he knew from out west were in Umeå. That is how I met the Ellises. The Ellises were on sabbatical here in Umeå and they left in October. When they left, they wanted to keep their car because they were coming back this summer. So they offered me a sweetheart deal to "rent" it over the winter. Lucky? Maybe. If I didn't get along so well with Nev, and then get along so well with the Ellises in turn though, it never would have happened.

I will concede, however, that it is a bit weird that I win roulette every time I walk into a casino. I have no interest in gambling (see previous post) but whenever I get dragged into a casino, I play roulette exactly one time. I bet on red. it is about as close to 50/50 as you can get in a casino, and I haven't lost since my streak began in Monaco in 2002. I don't know how many times I have won, but I have never, ever walked out of a casino with less money than I started with. And that thing with meeting Terese Pirak in the restaurant in Jokkmokk... yeah, that is a bit hard to explain too.

OK, maybe I am lucky. Oh well, it is better than being unlucky.

No snarky comments about my classic waxing, thank you very much.

Ski orienteering

2007-03-25T04:36:00.000-07:00

That was a nice way to end the ski season. I finally got to do a ski-o race and against all odds, apparently I won.

This is nice because it is a bit of confirmation that - classic ski loppets notwithstanding - I am not a total sack. Ski-o is anything-goes, so skating is allowed. The trick is choosing routes that allow you to use skating technique. If you choose to ski uphill on a narrow trail, skating will not do you much good. So as you look at your map you have to decide whether or not you will save more time by taking a longer route and skating, or by taking a short cut and having to double pole through brush. Of course, skiing downhill on narrow trails is about as fast as on skating trails, so you also have to watch the contour lines.

Ski-o is a lot easier technically than "real" orienteering because 90% of it is on trails. Therefore, it is a lot easier to memorize your route. The tricks are to figure out the best route and to ski hard while not missing any critical trail junctions. I find it to be a lot of fun and less frustrating than real orienteering can be. I appreciate being able to put my head down occasionally and just ski really hard without worrying that you will get hopelessly lost.

The race was in my backyard, in Gammlia park. This was not as big of an advantage as you might think because I have spent very little time skiing in Gammlia this year. It is really hilly and therefore inappropriate for training for the Vasaloppet.

Time for a sauna.

Tundra skiing

2007-03-24T05:11:00.000-07:00

I took advantage of the awesome spring skiing conditions to go out to the Bothnia this morning. Crust skiing was perfect, you could just scoot along the surface with almost no friction at all. I skied along the shore for the first hour, then headed straight out towards Finland. Eventually, I got to a point where all I could see was ice and sky. It was probably the closest I will get to skiing in the Arctic. It was quite amazing. I can see how you can easily lose your bearings and get lost. There are simply no visual cues. Happily, when you leave ski tracks behind you, it is pretty hard to get lost.

Swedish stag parties

2007-03-21T23:59:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to a stag party organized for Jörgen. Jörgen is the guy I wrote about in the fall for taking me up to his experimental site on the mires. Jörgen is getting married the 31st, he defended his Ph.D. last month, and his first baby arrived a few weeks ago.

It will have been a big year for him.

Anyhow, the stag party in Sweden does not involve the kind of stupidity that one typically thinks is normal during a Canadian stag party. The majority of the time was spent in an amazing rustic sauna with a sod roof and a wood burning stove. No electricity, of course, so it is lit with candles. Very, very cool. I wanted to take pictures, but 1) they never would have turned out because the light was so dim. 2) taking my camera into an environment of 75 degrees C and 100 % humidity is not a smart thing to do, and 3) any pics that did turn out would have been of a bunch of naked, sweaty dudes holding beer cans. Inte bra.

Towards the end of the evening (after a fair amount of beer had been consumed) a conversation began in the sauna about the tomte (little people) who are never seen but can either cause mischief or help you out depending on various factors - like, if you are nice to them, or if you accidentally build your house over one of their paths. I don't think tomte can be translated, but it would be close to elves or leprechauns, I think. It was a serious conversation, about how they are slowly disappearing because they have nowhere to go nowadays. This fits with an article I read a while back (I can't find it now of course) which claims that a significant percentage of the adult population in Sweden and Norway believes in these little people. Moreso in the rural areas. It could be argued that Umeå is as close to a rural area as an urban area can be, though.

One more thing for a North American to digest. But again, something I find quite charming.

Readership

2007-03-21T08:04:00.000-07:00

I keep track of readership traffic on this site. It is interesting to see where people are logging in from. I am pretty good at figuring out which folks are regulars and who are surfers. I get a surprising number of hits from China and Indonesia for some reason. I am also pretty good at figuring out who the regulars are based on where they log in from.

There is one, however, that baffles me. Mountain View, California. Someone from Mountain View logs on regularly, and I have no clue who it is. So, please, Mr. or Ms. Mountain View, please drop a line in the Comments to let me know who you are. The suspense is killing me.

Knut hat Ausgang

2007-03-21T02:28:00.001-07:00

This is a big news item in Europe - Knut the baby Polar bear in Berlin. His mother rejected him and he is being raised by hand. I defy anyone to watch this clip and not go awwww.....
Believe it or not, "animal rights" activists want to put him down rather than be raised by humans. Weird.

Petter Northug jr. parkerer Sverige og Russland

2007-03-19T15:16:00.001-07:00

A tragedy for Sweden, a brilliant victory for Norway. I have never seen such a dominant finish. Plus the commentary is awesome. Oy!oy!oy!oy!oy!

Some cool retro Birkie pics

2007-03-19T14:47:00.000-07:00

These photos were hanging in Håkon's Hall which is where the Birkebeiner should have finished. I took digital photos of the photos, so there are some reflections from the glass, but you get the idea. There were a whole bunch of these, I thought they looked really cool.

Iceland

2007-03-19T03:29:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone. I will be in Iceland from 27 June to 8 July. I would be happy to have a travel partner (s). If anyone is interested, drop me an e-mail, or leave a comment here. I am giving you over 3 months heads up! No excuses, people.

This even applies to anyone who I have never met and just happens to read this blog.

A warning: this will be a low cost, high activity outdoors-oriented trip. Details are still sketchy, but it will involve sleeping either outside or in hostels, lots of hiking, lots of mountain biking, and plenty of dips in hotsprings. I may spring for a hotel on the final day just so I can clean up a bit for the trip home. But that is it.

Anyone game?

The finish line

2007-03-19T00:13:00.000-07:00

The top image is the one I have had frozen in my brain for 13 years. The bottom one was the one I took yesterday. Damn you Silvio Fauner....

Kids skijumping in Lillehammer

2007-03-19T00:08:00.001-07:00

This would be why Norwegians kick everyone's collective asses in nordic sports. I filmed this besides Håkon's Hall, the big sports arena where the Birkebeiner should have finished. Notice that some of the kids are wearing racing bibs - just because they think racing bibs are cool. Although the video doesn't show it well, these kids are going fast, the jump is big and they are travelling about 5 m through the air. I went to the top of this jump with the idea of giving it a try, but I decided I value my equipment too much.

Vivre la Norvège libre!

2007-03-18T14:48:00.000-07:00

Unbelievable

2007-03-17T14:43:00.000-07:00

The Norwegian Birkebeiner was first run in 1932 and has run every year since then. In 75 years, the Birkebeiner has never been cancelled.

Until 2007, when Jeff Lewis decided to enter.

For some reason, this makes me think of Mr Warden at Camp Algonkian Island scowling and somberly pronouncing "The Norwegian Birkebeiner was founded in 1932. Since that time, it has never been cancelled. Shape up, or you don't eat."

I doubt anybody will get that reference. Well, maybe one. Any guesses are welcome in the Comments to this entry.

What is even weirder is why it was cancelled. Wind. Apparently there were gale force winds blowing over the fjell (mountain highlands) that allegedly reached 130 km/hr. Not because of anything understandable like a lack of snow or a freak snowstorm or frigid temperatures. Wind. Sheesh.

On top of that is that the race was only cancelled after we had all started. All 13 000 of us. As I skied into the second aid station, there was a huge gaggle of people standing around.

"Great!" I thought. " I am going to pass a whole bunch of people."

Or maybe not. I get to the other end of the aid station to see a big rope across the trail and an even bigger Norweigan dude who was clearly having a very bad day yelling at skiers to NOT CROSS THIS ROPE!!! (He actually said that in Norwegian, but I am incredibly perceptive about these things.) So I go up to another dude who looked kind of in charge and asked what was going on.

"The race is cancelled." He helpfully explained.
"Huh? You mean, like temporarily?"
"No. It is over. "
"Uhhh.... why?"
"Because it is windy."
"No, seriously."

I almost said something snarky about how I thought Norwegians were supposed to be tough, but looking at this dude's face I quickly changed my mind. The organizers were not in a joking mood.

So 13 000 people turned around and skied back to the start line.

Think about the logistics of that for a second. 13 000 people don't turn around on a dime.

All I could think about as I skied back down that mountain was how happy I was that I wasn't on the organizing committee. 13 000 bags that were in transit from the start to the finish in dozens of trucks had to be stopped and turned around. 13 000 people had to be transported from the start to the finish in Lillehammer. There was no food, no hot showers, nothing at the start. I kept thinking "Is there the least chance that they have a contingency plan for something like this?" It seems pretty unlikely, but hey, you never know. I think everyone involved was pretty lucky that the temperature was so mild. This would have turned out quite differently had it been -20.

This was such an enormous gong show, it redefines anything I have previously witnessed. Whoever was responsible for making the call to cancel is one ballsy dude. He is going to have an entire nation to answer to tomorrow morning. Of course, it was probably the correct decision, but it still took guts to make it. All things considered though, it all went quite well. I was in Lillehammer within 3 hours of being stopped on the trail, and was reunited with my bag after about 9 hours. In the meantime I went up to the ski stadium and did tourist stuff.

So many other things went wrong that it almost seems inappropriate to mention that it was - surprise, surprise - exactly 0 degrees at the start and that I had to stop to rewax (re-klister) twice in the first 10 km. Double poling was not an option this time, since we were basically skiing up a mountain.

I am still in Oslo, but I will upload some pics when I get home tomorrow.

One of the unforeseen advantages that I have discovered in writing this blog is that I find myself immediately thinking "This will make a great blog entry" every time something disastrous happens. It puts things in perspective. Rather than get upset I end up looking at the disaster as a source of merriment and entertainment. Although I suspect the organizing committee would not agree with me on that count at all.

Buyer beware

2007-03-13T12:54:00.000-07:00

I just spent a few hours on the web tracking down cheap flights to go visit my aunt and grandparents in Switzerland. This process gets very complicated very quickly when you need to deal with up to four different airlines, two of which (easyjet and Ryanair) are budget airlines. Living in Umeå, you have no choice but to start your journey with either SAS or FlyNordic because they are the only two airlines with routes up here. From Stockholm, RyanAir operates flights to about 10 different cities. However, they fly out of a small airport 1 hour south of Stockholm which is at least a 1h30 voyage from Arlanda airport where the SAS and RyanAir flights arrive. Of course, none of the cities RyanAir flys to from Stockholm are anywhere near Switzerland. In fact, RyanAir does not fly to Switzerland at all from any destination. EasyJet does, though. Unfortunately, the only airport that both EasyJet and RyanAir fly into together is Stanstead in London. The early RyanAir flight from Stockholm arrives in time for the EasyJet flight to Basle, but the return trip doesn't work. So I would need to get a hotel in London overnight and catch the RyanAir...

You get the idea. Although the RyanAir and Easyjet tickets were ridiculously cheap as usual, when you factor in the cost of at least two overnight layovers Stockholm and London), plus ground transport between airports, the total cost was more than just taking a full fare SAS flight which would get me from Umeå to Zurich in about 5 hours with little to no aggravation created by having to shlepp my way between airports in cities I have never been to before.

Rule of thumb: if a trip requires more than 1 low cost airline and involves more than 4 legs (return), it is probably cheaper to just go with the regular carrier.

Or walk.

Holmenkollen

2007-03-12T10:51:00.000-07:00

Well, Norway is pretty much as advertised. Beautiful, snowy, ski-crazy and the land of ridiculously expensive beer.

I went to see the Canadians ski the Holmenkollen World Cup biathlon this past weekend with my boss Jan Sjöström. As it was last November in Östersund, it was a treat to be accepted into the inner circle of these phenomenal athletes. It was also my priviledge to pick up the tab when we went out Friday night in downtown Oslo. Cost of 10 beers? 750 Norwegian crowns. That would be roughly $140 Canadian dollars. Rather than feeling stiffed, I feel a sense of power. I paid for Norwegian beer and survived! I can handle anything now! I am a man!

Oslo is pretty much my dream city despite the cost of beer. It is small, pretty, and it has public transport up to world class cross country ski trails. Holmenkollen is a stop on the city's light rail, line number 1. If my darn camera hadn't crapped out, I would have taken a photo of the train full of people dressed in spandex and carrying skis and poles. It was very cool.

I got to help Tom Zidek, the wax tech with a bit of ski prep. Tom is the celebrity Canadian dude in Sweden right now because of his relationship with Anna Carin Olaffson, the world champion biathlete. It was interesting to hang out with the two of them. Anna Carin is very nice, and a bit shy I think. I can't imagine what life must be like for her in the media spotlight all the time.

Tom will be spending some time in Sweden this spring, and I have been trying to convince him to some to the Tiomila orienteering race at the end of April. He is a serious adventure racer, so it should be right down his alley. Swedish biathlon championships are in Sollefteå in a few weeks, which is 150 km north of Umeå, so I may head up there in a few weeks to watch.

It was really cool to ski the famous Holmenkollen trails. They are tough! The 16.7 km loop that is used for the famous Holmenkollen 50 km is just constantly rolling up and down. There is very little time to rest. It was cool to ski there and think of the history of that trail.

The problem with writing about an intense weekend is that no matter how much you write, you will always leave something out. As a summary: The Canadian biathlon team is a great bunch of people. Holmenkollen is amazing. Oslo is even better.

I do have a few photos that were taken before my camera crapped out, and as soon as I have new batteries I will put them up. Stay tuned.

Postiness factor on the decline for next few days

2007-03-08T05:36:00.000-08:00

I leave tomorrow morning for Oslo, ostentatiously to present my work to the Norwegian armed forces research institute (FFI), but in reality to go see the biathlon World Cup in Holmenkollen and hang out with my old biathlon friends.

Holmenkollen, along with Lahti Finland and Falun Sweden is one of the Holy Grails of skiing. The Holmenkollen 50 km ski race course is legendary, and the ski jump is one of the landmarks of Oslo. I am really looking forward to this pilgrimmage. The Holmenkollen Ski Festival started in 1892 and the 50 km (called the 5-mile in Scandinavia) is still the premiere event, which is nice in this day and age of short attention spans. It has been won by my heros Vegard Ulvang (3 times!), Juha Mieto, and Thomas Wassberg.

Of course, this is also the first time I will set foot in Norway, the home of Bjorn Daehlie, Vegard Ulvang, Thomas Alsgaard, Ole Einar Bjornedalen, and so many other great skiers. That alone makes me very excited.

I get back Sunday night, then leave next Wednesday to race in the Norwegian Birkebeiner, the biggest ski loppet in Norway, which ends in Lillehammer.

Lillehammer will obviously be another pilgimmage of sorts for me. The Birkebeiner finishes in the Olympic stadium, on the very same finish line where Silvio Fauner robbed Bjorn Daehlie and Norway of the 4x10 km relay in the 1994 Olympics. Silvio drafted Bjorn around the entire last lap and then out sprinted him for the win in a finish that broke my heart. I had been in the hospital for a few weeks at the time for a lump in my neck and I forced the nurse to let me get out of bed to watch that race. That Norwegian team was perhaps the greatest team ever assembled, Sture Siverten, Vegard Ulvang, Thomas Alsgaard and Bjorn. I watched that race in my ridiculous assless hospital smock as those accursed Italian steroid monkeys drafted my Norwegians lap after lap after lap. When Fauner outsprinted Bjorn, I actually cried. Then the stupid nurse came in and told me that if she had known I was going to get so upset she wouldn't have let me watch. Bitch.

I may have to bring a small Italian flag and burn it on that finish line.

Well I certainly didn't know this post was going to go in this direction when I started. How interesting.

200 messages

2007-03-08T05:35:00.000-08:00

This is the 200th post since I started this blog.

Well wow, that was a bit anticlimactic. Ha.

The best ever first 11 words of an article

2007-03-06T09:50:00.000-08:00

"A group of five Chinese unicyclists have shocked the circus world..."

Swiss troops invade Liechtenstein

2007-03-06T09:25:00.000-08:00

You have to feel a little pity for the platoon commander responsible for breaking 900 years of neutrality. I would have loved to have heard the radio traffic during that exercise.

According to the Dave Orr Law of Notoriety, in the short term that platoon commander can expect some disciplinary action, but in the long term his career advancement will go into warp drive because absolutely everybody will know him. Having senior officers know your name is the first necessary step to getting a promotion.

Dave Orr was a classmate of mine at the Royal Military College and a military engineer officer. During the Manitoba floods the year after our graduation, Lt. Dave ordered a dump truck to dump its load of gravel in the middle of a highway because he was pissed off that the soldiers manning a checkpoint wouldn't let him through. Dave was one of the first guys in my class to be promoted to Major.

Correction

2007-03-06T01:08:00.000-08:00

There were only 10177 finishers. The last guy in was Göran Lundgren in 11:53:23.

He deserves a special medal, I think.

I also apologize for the poor editing in the long post below. I didn't re-read it before posting and there are some grammatical errors. I could correct them now I guess, but I am feeling lazy and sack-like.

Vasaloppet story

2007-03-05T11:06:00.000-08:00

The final 100 meters

I think I first became aware of the Vasaloppet by reading an article in Cross Country Skier magazine when I was about 12 which was written by 17 year old Pete Vordenberg (who is now the U.S. ski team head coach). Pete was a top U.S. junior who decided to spend a year in Sweden on exchange and - naturally - participated in the Vasaloppet. Against all odds, he ended up skiing part of the race in the lead group while the television announcers in the helicopter frantically tried to figure out who this guy was, then finally deciding that someone else must be skiing in his bib because it was impossible that a teenager from the U.S. would be doing so well.

I thought that was an awesome story. I still do.

So I would hazard a guess that I have known about and been interested in the Vasaloppet for about 20 years or so. There are other races that are more challenging http://www.keskinada.com/, races which are longer http://www.boreal100kloppet.ca/ and even races with more participants http://www.engadin-skimarathon.ch/ but in terms of prestige and respect in the xc-ski world, nothing comes close to the Vasaloppet. I can't think of another race - in any sport, actually - that has world class athletes who have decided to specialized their training for this one single event. These guys don't care about the Olympics, World Cups, World Championships or even making the national Swedish team. The truth is, they are so highly specialized for the Vasaloppet that they could not compete in anything else. But in the Vasaloppet, they are untouchable. Gunde Svan, Thomas Wassberg and Bjorn Daehlie - all of them were the best skiers in the world at one time. Each had multiple wins in the Olympics and World Championships. All of them tried the Vasaloppet. And they all got their butts kicked. By guys who weren't even on the Swedish national cross country ski team.

All that to say that I think there is a certain romance about the Vasaloppet that is hard to understand unless you are a) Swedish, or b) a real xc ski enthusiast.

30 min before the start. People claim their spot by putting their skis and poles up like a tent

I was thinking about this as I stood on the start line in the 2nd seed. It would be laying it on a bit thick to say I was overwhelmed to be there, but I was certainly very happy to be there. It is just really nice to be in the midst of 15 000 people who love this sport as much as you do. Especially when you are accustomed to having people's eyes glaze over as soon as you say you like xc skiing.

Even at the start, though, I was a bit worried about the condition of the snow : it was -2 C and warming up. Kick waxing for temperatures around 0 C are notoriously difficult to wax for. Either you wax too soft, and you end up with a big ball of snow stuck to your skis, or you wax too hard and have no kick at all. However, there was no point dwelling on it because there was nothing much I could do about the weather, and I certainly knew I didn't have the technical waxing skill to figure out the best wax to put on. So I just kind of figured I would see what would happen.

The start was not as chaotic as I had feared. I think this was largely because I was up front in the 2nd seed. The biggest uphill of the race is in the first 3 km, and the trail narrows from about 50 lanes to 4 lanes in those 3 km. It is historically a gigantic bottleneck, with the folks in the last seed waiting around for up to an hour just to start climbing the hill. But in my seed we flowed up the hill without hardly slowing down. Everyone in my seed were fairly good skiers, and I think they all generally understood that what happened in the first 3 km of a 90 km race had no importance at all on the final results. So there was very little jostling for position or aggressiveness. I was pleasantly surprised. What I had not counted on was how hard it is to pass anyone when there are only a few ski tracks and they are all totally full. It is like trying to pass cars in a traffic jam. Granted, everyone was moving forward at a good speed, but there was no room to pass anywhere. It was like that for the first 25 km at least. After that, the trail opened up somewhat. Of course, I had absolutely no kick. I stopped 4 times to try to fix my wax, and every time absolutely nothing changed. My glide was actually fairly good, and I was really worried about messing up my glide with too soft a grip wax. I knew that double poling was critical in this race, and slow skis would be deadly. The second thing I didn't count on was that although the Vasaloppet is generally very flat, there are still some pretty good hills. If you don't have any kick wax, you have no choice but to double pole up those hills. Which of course I had to do. This was OK for the first half of the race, but by the second half I knew I was going to be in trouble. At about 70 km my back and arm muscles totally gave out. After that I had to deal with the frustrating situation of having my aerobic engine on idle because my chassis couldn't handle the strain. I think my heartrate over those final 20 km never went above 120 or 130 beats per minute - a slow training pace. I lost 225 positions over those last 20 km. That sucked. Another thing that sucked was that my carbo loading seemed pretty inefficient. I always err heavily on the conservative side when figuring out how much food to bring on a race because I hate bonking. This race was one of those times that my conservative estimate was barely enough. I had 2 big waterbottles filled with calorie-laden sport shakes - I figure each bottle had about 1000 calories in it. For comparison, an average inactive male requires 2000 calories a day, total. I also brought 2 bananas and some gels. I had eaten all of it by about 50 km, along with lots of blueberry soup and sport drinks at the aid stations. Despite that, I barely held off a bonk during the race. Digesting that much food in a race is not easy. After the second waterbottle, I barfed. Just a little, and just into my mouth, you know? Not like a projectile vomit or anything. But definitely a puke. This hardly ever happens to me,and I can't say that I recommend it.

I was quite happy to see the finish line. I was not so happy to see my result. I was hoping for a top 500 result, and I didn't even break 1000. In fact, by placing 1052, I will lose my 2nd seed in next year's race by 52 places. That really sucks.

And yes, there will be a next year's race. I don't plan on leaving the Vasaloppet on a bad footing. Now I have something to prove. Especially because Phil Shaw placed 126th. I have raced Phil since I was in high school, and I had no idea he was here. I only found out when one of my colleagues called me with the results fresh off the Internet and told me that the top Canadian was... Phil Shaw. I beat Phil at the Montebello 25 km ski race in about 1989 or so. I run into him once every couple of years at a ski race. If Phil can place 126th, then I can too.

Vasaloppet 2008: Top 126. You read it here first.

P.S. Pete Vordenberg eventually bonked and ended up out of the top 100, as I recall. I have searched the Web for this story, in vain.

Vasaloppet - in statistics

2007-03-05T09:21:00.000-08:00

Number of registered Vasaloppet participants: 15 735
Number of Vasaloppet finishers: 13 082
Winning time: 4:43:40
Time between men's winner and women's winner: 4 minutes 43 seconds
How much slower than average winning time was: 45 minutes
My time: 5:32:09
My time after winner: 48:29
My time as % of winner's time: 85.4%
My placing: 1052
Placing as % of total competitors: 6.7%
Number of Canadians who beat me: 2
Number of women who beat me: 16
Number of guys with one leg who beat me: 1
Temperature at start of race: -2 C
Temperature at finish: +1 C
Number of times I rewaxed in first 45 km: 4
Point in the race I gave up on rewaxing: 45 km
Time lost rewaxing: lots
Amount I hate classic waxing: lots
Total distance of race: 90 km
Number of kilometers I double poled: 90
Number of kilometers I had amazing grip: 0
Distance at which my back muscles failed: 70 km
Number of places I lost in last 20 km: 225
Number of calories I consumed during race (approx.): 4000
Number of times I barfed: 1

Full story to appear shortly. Stay tuned.

Pasta är inte bra

2007-03-01T11:10:00.000-08:00

I didn't mention it in the last message, but for those who don't know, the Vasaloppet is this Sunday. I am deep in my carbo load, and I never want to see another noodle again. Blech. The only thing that keeps me going is the cold fear of bonking 25 km away from the finish line. Anything I can do to prevent that is worth it. Even if my eyes are gradually turning semolina yellow.

Vasaloppet

2007-02-27T22:08:00.000-08:00

This is the finish line of the Vasaloppet, held annually since 1922. The sign across the finish says: "I Fäders Spår för Framtids Segrar" , which means "In the footsteps of our forefathers for the victories of tomorrow"

I find that that is quite a beautiful sentiment.

The Vasaloppet is a 90 km ski race between Sålen and Mora in Dalarna county. It commemorates an actual event : in 1521 Gustav Vasa, who was trying to convince the Swedes to rise up in arms against the Danes (editorial note: the Swedes were only convinced to join his rebellion after the Danes lopped of the heads of 80 Swedish noblemen in Stockholm. The Swedes are a bit slow to get upset about things). The Danes were naturally not terribly fond of Gustav, and he was forced to flee for his life from Mora towards Norway (another editorial note: the modern Vasaloppet goes the other direction, having Gustav fleeing into the arms of his pursuers. Note to organizers: sort this out). This being Sweden, he had to flee on skis even though it was July. OK, I made that part up.

So future-king-Vasa fled on skis from Mora towards Norway and a bit afterwards news of the 80 dead guys finally reached Mora (the e-mail containing the news had been accidentally marked as "spam" and deleted). The Mora townspeople, realizing their grave error, sent off two of their strongest skiers to go catch up with him and bring him back to lead them in their struggle against their oppressors. Those two skiers were Lars and Engelbrekt (editorial note #3: heros should never be named Engelbrekt. They totally lose all credibility. It is like if Superman was named "Gus " instead of "Clark Kent"). So Lars and Engelbrekt finally caught up to Gustav Vasa in Sålen. He came back to lead the peasants and yadda-yadda-yadda they drove off the oppressing Danes and established the kingdom of Sweden.

In my opinion, the race should be called the "Lars and Engelbrekt"-loppet, but that just doesn't ring as nicely, does it? I mean, they are the real ski heros here, right? If Vasa had been a bit fitter, they would never have caught up to him. Just my 2 cents.

If you want more of the history stuff, go here.

The Chosen Ones

2007-02-24T11:44:00.000-08:00

As I was doing my laundry the other day, I was just about to fold this pair of socks up and put them in my drawer when I realized that these were the Best Socks Ever. I bought these socks for Phase III Army training while I was still at RMC, because the army socks at the time sucked (scratchy wool). That means I purchased these socks in 1995. If a year is - what, 7 dog years? - then I reckon a year has to be about 25 sock years. The lifespan of an average pair can't be more than 3 years or so. That means these suckers are the equivalent of 300 years old. I bet that these socks are the choice of Galapagos tortoises.

I remember purchasing them because my strategy at the time was very simple: Price Is No Object. I had no desire to have anything but the best available equipment in the field in Chilliwack, because I knew that Phase III would be extremely demanding and I didn't want to worry about having crappy equipment on top of everything else. (As an aside, it turns out my premonitions about Phase III were quite correct. At the end of that summer I was exceptionally well qualified for any job that required large amounts of digging and misery.) So, I went to the Mountain Equipment Co-Op store in Ottawa and simply asked for the most expensive pair of hiking socks they had. These puppies cost me $45 bucks.

The socks did serve me very well in the field, and when I returned to RMC that fall, I still wore them frequently in my parade boots. Then one day I did laundry and only one of the socks came back. True story. I was rather sad, but kept hope that its mate would eventually turn up, so I put the lone remaining sock in the bottom of my barrack box. A week went by, then a month. No sock. I kind of forgot about it.

Two months later - November sometime, because there was snow on the ground - I had to go into Kingston for some errand. I had no car, and rarely went into town because it was just really inconvenient. I was also in Chemical Engineering and did biathlon and therefore had no social life. I guess some things just don't change. Anyhow, as I passed in front of the Tim Hortons beside Fort Frontenac, I had to keep my head down because it was quite windy and cold. I noticed a dirty rag in the gutter. Then I stopped dead.

Yup. My sock.

To this day, I have absolutely no idea how my missing sock travelled from my Squadron laundry room to a gutter on the side of the road in Kingston over a kilometer away. And to find it two months after it went missing defies belief. But there you go. The world is a strange and mysterious place.

I gingerly picked it up out of the gutter and inspected it. There was no question it was mine. There are not too many $45 dollar socks lying around in gutters. This was my sock. Correct size and everything. So I brought it back to the College and laundered it. Then, with a song in my heart I reunited it with its long lost comrade from the bottom of my barrack box.

Since then, these socks have accompanied me on virtually every trip I have taken because they are still darn comfy and pretty much indestructible. They have run with me in at least two CIOR orienteering races and I wear them regularly inside my ski boots, so they have no doubt accompanied me on many of my ski and biathlon races also.

I now believe that these socks are immortal. They are the Chosen Ones. When Christ returns to judge the living and the dead, he will be wearing these socks. I do not own these socks. Nobody can own them. I am simply their guardian and keeper. And as such, it will be my humble honour to wear them in the Vasaloppet next week.

Vaseline Machine Gun

2007-02-24T11:35:00.001-08:00

I consider myself a sort of a jack-of-all-trades. Passingly good at a bunch of stuff, but very far from being the best at anything. I think that one of the nice things about having a finger in many different pies is that when you happen across genius in whatever field you have a bit of experience in, you can see it and really appreciate it. I have no idea how I have managed to get this far in my life without hearing about Leo Kottke, but he is my new hero. This guy plays guitar like nobody I have ever heard of or seen before. Eric Clapton, eat your heart out.

On gambling

2007-02-23T01:27:00.000-08:00

I have had the privilege in my travels to have gone to some fairly nice places, and many of those places have nice or world famous casinos. Naturally, in order to fully experience such a place, one must frequent said casino. Monte Carlo springs immediately to mind. Despite this, I have found that I simply can’t learn to gamble. Sure, I can put coins in a slot and push a button with the best of the grizzled old casino hags, but when it comes to the more exotic forms of gambling, I have some sort of mental block. Craps? No way. Pai Gow? Nope. Even Poker eludes me. Roulette is OK simply because it takes the mental ability of a drunken monkey to plunk chips down randomly on the felt.

In order to learn something, first you must have enough interest to activate whatever brain chemistry it takes to first concentrate on the subject and second to burn the rules into your long term memory. Apparently this is easy for people who believe that their gambling decisions have a strong influence on whether they win or lose. To me, every casino game except roulette looks like an annoying set of rules layered on top of what should be a simple process of taking your money and giving you nothing in return.

Apparently when other people hear the rules of card games they think: "This is how I will become rich. I must pay attention." Whereas my brain just activates the fight or flight response. I don’t know whether to run away or start punching the dealer.

I can’t tell you how many times well-meaning people have described to me the simple steps involved in casino blackjack. It always sounds to me exactly like this:

“It’s easy. If the dealers gets at least (I’m drifting off by now) and you have (Jesus, will this explanation ever stop?) then obviously you would (Is my soul leaving my body? No, phew, it’s just cigarette smoke.) But if you get dealt a (mwuwahah) then you want to double down. That means (Hey, that guy behind you has a funny shirt. I wonder where he got it.) And of course you can always bet on the (Nahnahahnahnah), and that means (I’ll be at the roulette table.)”

I wish I were one of the people who get an adrenaline rush from gambling. But not so much that I’d eventually need to sell the kids to a Thai businessman. There’s an ideal sweet spot for addiction, and I envy those who have it. These lucky people have all the incentive in the world to learn complicated gambling rules. In stark contrast, I get only a modest psychological buzz from roulette, mostly because of the flashy turny thingy and the fast moving marble. But after about a half an hour I start regarding my remaining money as a filthy thing that I must shed as quickly as possible. One way you that can know for sure you’ll never be a professional gambler is if you ever have this thought: I wonder how quickly I can get rid of this last 40 dollars.

Fettisdagen

2007-02-21T08:06:00.000-08:00

Normally I am up to speed on interesting Swedish cultural things before they happen. St. Lucia, for example. However, for one reason or another, Fettisdagen caught me off guard.

On Tuesday we were eating in the cafeteria and people were loading up on some rather tasty little pastries, which is not normal (Swedes don't eat dessert at lunch. It is written in their constitution.) Most folks were also eating baked beans, which was also a first in the cafeteria. So I inquired what was going on.

"What is going on with the baked beans and pastries?" I inquired.

"Actually, it is Fettisdagen." (Swedes tend to preface any statement with "Actually", much like we Canadians suffix statements with "eh". I find it kind of cute)

"Jaha." I replied thoughtfully. "And what exactly is Fettisdagen?"

"Actually, it means "Fat Day". On this day it is traditional to go go skiing, eat beans and these wonderful little pastries. They are called Semla. Actually, you must try them. They are delicious".

"Really?" I replied, quite intrigued. "So you actually have a day reserved for skiing and eating pastry. How excellent. Are you kidding me?"

"Actually, no. It is a serious tradition that we think has some kind of religious meaning, but we aren't so sure because Sweden is probably the most secular place on the planet after Quebec."

"Fascinating." I answered, fascinated. I mulled this information for a bit. "So would Fat Day have anything to do with Shrove Tuesday?"

"Actually, perhaps, but we have no idea what a Shrove is."

"Right, right... OK, how about Mardi Gras?"

"Yes! Oh - uh, Actually, yes. You caught us by surprise there."

"So Fat Day in Sweden is the same as Mardi Gras in Rio and New Orleans"

"Actually, of course! That is what we have been trying to say."

"So while folks in Louisiana and Rio go nuts, get naked and party until dawn, in Sweden people go skiing and eat pastries. I see. "

Everyone at the table nodded in serious actual agreement.

But you know something? I dig it. I would much, much rather go skiing and eat pastries than fling myself into the debauchery of Mardi Gras. Well, OK, I wouldn't mind experiencing that level of debauchery at least once in my life (CIOR Gala Balls do not count). But on a day-to-day basis, skiing and pastries would definitely win out.

Seriously. Actually.

Brussels redux

2007-02-20T01:26:00.000-08:00

Well, I am not so fond of Brussels. I try to avoid putting negative stuff up here, but in the interest of being honest, I think it is necessary in this case. There are many cities I rather like, such as Ottawa, Quebec City, Victoria, Salt Lake City and Stockholm (actually, all Swedish cities I have seen to date, including Sundsvall, Luleå and of course Umeå). The characteristics those cities have in common are: all of them are clean and have easy access to big parks or wide open spaces. They are also friendly. That is a pretty open adjective. To me it is has more to do with the feel a city has rather than any particular characteristic. However, small things contribute to this `friendliness´. For example, I have never had a cab driver tell me they didn't want to take me somewhere prior to this trip to Brussels. However, on this trip it happened several times. Either the destination was too close (ie, the fare would be low) or they simply didn't like the look of me, I have no idea. Still, not very impressive. The rows of restaurants that hire thugs to cajole you to come eat at their establishments - then ridicule you when you pass them by - also didn't impress me very much.

Suffice it to say that in my opinion, Brussels is sorely lacking in many respects. There are plenty of pedestrian areas in the old city, but there are absolutely no parks of any significant size. New York has Central Park, Quebec City has the Plains of Abraham, Ottawa has Gatineau park. Brussels has a few cobblestone squares with statues of old dead guys. That isn't totally true, there is a `park´ at the War museum, but any park that you can stand in and see the four corners from any point inside it just doesn't cut it as far as I am concerned. To get out of the city to exercise properly, I had to get on the train and travel 45 minutes outside the city center. Even there, traffic was heavy and the roads marginal. Many roads in Belgium are concrete rather than asphalt, which is horrible for rollerskiing. Poletips cannot grab concrete, so your poles are useless, and concrete is much more slippery than asphalt. Also, many roads suddenly transform into cobbles with no warning. Cobblestones and rollerskis do not mix.

I did see some cool stuff, of course. Belgium is very big on road cycling (it is the home of cycling legend Eddy Merckx) and while I was out rollerskiing I got passed on a couple of occasions by huge pelotons of hundreds of cyclists. I assume they were cycling clubs. That was pretty cool. I have never seen that anywhere else before.

I suppose the weather didn't help my opinion. It was rainy or overcast and around 0 degrees the entire week. Apparently for Brussels this is about status quo for the month of February however. I have never had a problem with seasonal affective disorder in the winter no matter how little light there is - as long as there is snow on the ground. However, a month or two of drizzly, overcast weather would make me seriously depressed.

In general, Brussels: inte bra. (Swedish for not so good)

Brussels

2007-02-09T22:51:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone. Just to let you know I am in Brussels until the 18th, so I am not sure how often I will be able to post.

I am not really happy that this brussels thing is happening just 3 weeks before the Vasaloppet, it kind of messes up my training. I pulled out my rollerskis and will be rollerskiing around the City in a vain attempt to maintain my fitness. If this looks as ridiculous as it sounds, I may post pics. Stay tuned.

Dogsledding

2007-02-06T12:26:00.000-08:00

View from my sled

Isabelle really wanted to go dogsledding. To be honest, I thought this was just another cheezy tourist thing to do, but hey, I am willing to try anything once (with the possible exception of intravenous street drugs).

Turns out, dogsledding is pretty cool. The dogs are awesome. We both had a team of 4 dogs, and we were out for 2 hours. Lars Eric, proprietor of Wild Adventures led us on a tour of the Vasterbotten backcountry trails, and it was really cool. I was always under the impression that sled dogs were really aggressive, but it isn't true. They are really nice dogs, who happen to really, really love running. Preferably in the snow, and preferably pulling something heavy. As a middling cross country skier, I humbly take my toque off to these dogs. When it comes to pure, sheer motivation and love for their chosen sport, they kick any human athlete's ass by a landslide. It is like running is like the best thing they have ever done, ever ever ever in their entire lives. It is like running for these dogs is better than chocolate cake, beer, skiing and high speed internet, combined. It is pretty awesome.

Only negative - being on a sled behind a team of hard working sled dogs puts you directly into the slipstream of serious, nuclear-powered dog farts. This is not a joke.

Isabelle and Suki, the amazing hugging dog.

Can we run now? How about now? Now? Please?

My PETA-mobile

2007-02-06T12:25:00.000-08:00

Jokkmokk Marknad

2007-02-05T23:09:00.000-08:00

I do not recommend travelling to see the Jokkmokk marknad (market) if you happen to be a card-carrying member of PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals).

I have never seen so many dead animals all in one place (if you disregard the steak counter at your local supermarket). Piles of reindeer skins here, a table full of fox tails there, a bunch of marten furs hanging off a trader's tent pole. It was awesome. There were even seal skins, though sadly there were no baby seal skins (definite market opportunity here for Canada's East Coast seal hunters/clubbers).

Isabelle beside a pile of assorted animal bits

It was like a throwback to a time when furs were a reality of surviving above the Arctic Circle. The best thing was that this was not some made-for-tourists type of event. The Jokkmokk Market has been happening continuously for over 400 years on the first weekend in February, and although the town of Jokkmokk sees an influx of some 30 000 people for market weekend, the majority are expat Sami people making the pilgrimmage back home (on a side note, it appears that the Sami do very well for themselves when they strike out on their own in the southern world. A whole section of the parking lot was reserved for Porsches). Jokkmokk is just too remote to really attract huge numbers of tourists. Perhaps that is a good thing, because PETA metrosexuals would go collectively apoplectic if they experienced this market en masse. There would be protests by city-dwelling "animal lovers" throwing paint on furs and all that other nonsense. The thing you quickly come to understand (if you aren't a PETA nutjob) is that reindeer are still a very real and integral part of the Sami lifestyle and economy. By extension, so are reindeer furs and hides and meat. At the home we stayed at (Terese Pirak and her sambo & 2 kids Siri and Johan - more on that later) they keep reindeer in their backyard - and they live in a very nice bungalow on the edge of town.

The reindeer behind Terese's house.

Although the Sami are no longer really nomadic, they still herd semi-domesticated reindeer around the northern parts of Sweden Norway, Finland and Russia. When you drive around up here in the winter, you have to watch for sticks stuck in the snowbanks with plastic bags tied to them. Those are the signs put up by Sami herdsmen along the sides of the road that their reindeer are in the area, so you should pay extra attention when driving. Reindeer herds apparently routinely block off major roadways by just standing there, refusing to move even as furious drivers honk their horns and scream obscenities (which, because this is Sweden, amounts to "Darn you, stupid reindeer! Please get off the road as soon as you can!") Reindeer are not renowned for their penetrating intelligence.

It took us 5 hours to drive to Jokkmokk. I was joined in this adventure by Isabelle Mousseau, who sacrificed her perfectly good vacation time to freeze her ass off above the Arctic Circle rather than lie on a beach somewhere. Isabelle arrived Friday night and we left Saturday morning first thing, so my hat goes off to her for sitting in a car for 5 hours while still jetlagged. Jokkmokk is about 20 km above the Arctic Circle, so we had to take the obligatory tourist shot of crossing that line. I didn't know that the Arctic circle actually means something: it is the latitude furthest south that experiences 24 hours of daylight and darkness.

Jumping over the arctic circle

I had reserved a room through the Jokkmokk tourist bureau. The town of Jokkmokk has a normal population of 5900, so an influx of 30 000 people cannot possibly be accommodated by the 1 hotel in town. So people clear out their spare bedrooms and rent them out during Market weekend. When I wrote the tourist bureau, they gave me the name and address of our host, Terese Pirak. We arrived in town early Saturday afternoon and then walked around the market for 4 or 5 hours. I figured I would be able to spot the street Terese lives on, but I didn't see it all day. So that evening we were sitting in one of the three restaurants in town, and I figured I would have to ask someone who looks local for directions. So I lean over to the next table (where the dude is wearing reindeer skin chaps and boots) and give him the piece of paper with Terese's address on it, and ask him if he knows where it is. Dude looks at the piece of paper, looks at me, and goes to get his wife. His wife arrives and announces "You will be staying with us." (she spoke much better English than he did).

This is a bit awkward. I appreciate the hospitality, but I have already paid for the room at Terese's place. So I thank her for her offer and just ask again if she could tell us where Terese lives.

"No, you don't understand" She answers. "I am Terese."

Yeah, that was pretty weird. In a town of 5900, with 30 000 visitors, the chances of that happening are around 1/36000 or about 0.003%. Weirder - later that evening as we walked around town, we saw a poster for the Jokkmokk film festival. On it was a head shot of Terese. She is the star in some art film that was shot in Jokkmokk called The Dinner.

So what cool stuff did we buy? Well, I got two reindeer skins, a great Sami belt knife and some gifts. Isabelle got a fox skin, a marten skin, and a reindeer skin. She knows a lot more about skins than I do. Our reindeer skins are currently gracing my car seats, because they're toasty warm. I have to say, I am amazed at how toasty they really are. There was an icebar near the Jokkmokk museum - an outdoor bar made of ice, with ice stools and ice everything. Ice stools don't sound so comfy, I admit. However, each stool had a single layer of reindeer skin on the seat and let me tell you, that 0.5 cm of fur between your cheeks and the ice keeps you butt toasty warm. The Sami use reindeer skin for sleeping on outside, and they are clearly superior to any Thermarest I have tried. They will make a wicked cool accessory for the Canadian Ski Marathon...

Jokkmokk market: two enthusiastic thumbs up. Unless you are a PETA nutjob.

Benefits for Tooth cracked on the job

2007-01-31T23:17:00.000-08:00

So let me get this straight.

Some Swedish dude bites into a cookie offered by a customer and breaks his tooth on a cherry pit inside. $680 of dental work is required.

Since he broke the tooth on the job, he makes a claim against his employer who, not surprisingly, tells him to take a hike.

If I had been in Broken-Tooth-Guy's shoes, this is where the story would have ended. Broken-Tooth-Guy, however, decides to sue his employer.

I never know whether to admire these people for taking a stand, or to ridicule them for the unbelievable loss of productivity and voluntary misery they put themselves through while fighting a lawsuit.

He filed the lawsuit in 2002. He got a decision this week. So he has arguably spent over 4 years fighting for $680. To me, this just seems retarded. The cost-benefit ratio just isn't there. How much more money could he have generated if all those hours fighting this lawsuit were spent working instead?

My experience with the justice system is limited to the Régie de Logement - the quasi-judicial body that regulates rental disputes in Québec. I had to lodge several complaints over unpaid rent and I would rather lose two or three months rent than have to go through the Régie for a decision. It is long, takes up my time and it generally aggravates me.

I am a big believer in the Chinese proverb "Better a lean agreement than a fat lawsuit".

Translation: Even if you win a lawsuit, you lose. Enough said.

Creative causality and imaginative induction

2007-01-29T23:10:00.000-08:00

The automobile industry is expressing its concern that obesity is the result of declining automotive towing capacity. I guess that would explain all those lard ass Prius drivers.

Swedish News

2007-01-29T08:48:00.000-08:00

In the interest of keeping my Alert Readers fully apprised of hot news from Sweden, here is a brief summary of recent items:

Sweden to ban swearing in public

OK, well not really. But a councillor in Ljusdal is proposing it.

"We need a zero tolerance approach to this sort of thing," the Centre Party councillor, who has presented a motion on the issue to the council, told The Local. (The Local is the English language Swedish newspaper)

If this goes through, I will probably end up in jail.

Swedish nuclear power plant run by drunks

In a recent report that would make Homer Simpson blush, the Forsmark nuclear power station has been cited for "potentially fatal" safety breaches. On top of that, when 25 of the plant staff were given breathalyzer tests, 3 were found to be under the influence and had to be sent home.

Sweden to set up embassy in Second Life

Second Life is a virtual world where people can create characters and "live", with all the common stuff that goes with daily life. Apparently it is a big deal. Anyhow, Sweden is setting up an official embassy in Second Life. They are the first nation to do so, although Canada has an unofficial embassy apparently. Although as I figure it the only people who really care about this are pretty hopeless anyhow.

A ridiculous situation

2007-01-28T02:20:00.000-08:00

Percentage-wise, with less than 6 months of semi-serious training under my belt following a 5 year near-complete hiatus from ski racing, I am skiing as fast or faster than I ever did as a "serious", full time athlete.

It is hard to figure out if I am happy about this or profoundly disappointed.

On carbo loading

2007-01-28T00:49:00.000-08:00

For the non-athletes out there who read this, carbo loading is the process of increasing the amount of glycogen in your muscles before a long race. Glycogen is the "fuel" for your muscles, so the more you have, the longer you can go without running out of energy (known as the dreaded "bonk"). Carbo loading is at its essence pigging out.

A lot of skiers love carbo loading. You get to eat as much as you like and taper your training. Typically, three days before a long distance competition, you reduce your training substantially and start eating lots of complex carbohydrates: pasta, rice, potatos. You also have to drink lots and lots of water because glycogen is stored with water in your muscles. These muscles, still accustomed to having to replace the glycogen in your muscles quickly before the next training session, take all these carbohydrates and quickly pump your muscles full of glycogen. It is normal to gain a kilogram or two from carbo loading inside of 3 days. This is not fat - it is the extra water and fuel stored in your muscles.

I think eating is a waste of time anyhow, so carbo loading for me is just something that has to be endured. I equate eating with filling your car with gas: a necessary chore. I tend to put it off until the last minute when I become ravenous and am forced to eat something before passing out. Well, that doesn't happen often, but I have been known to forget to eat a meal or two when I am really focused on other things.

While I carbo load and force myself to swallow yet another bite of pasta even though I really don't want to, I always think of those geese they force feed to get their livers all nice and tender for foie-gras paté. I dislike the feeling of having a bloated, full stomach. I much prefer the feeling of slight hunger. I think it makes you sharp. Sadly, feeling hungry before a long distance race is kind of like having the sword of Damocles hanging over your head. Even though you feel just fine for the time being, you know without a shadow of a doubt that it is going to be a very long, painful day. And so I carbo load. Sigh.

Harsa loppet

2007-01-28T00:28:00.000-08:00

Having a perfect race is a rare event.

It didn't happen this weekend either. However, with my new skis, it did go substantially better than last weekend. This was a 42 km race rather than 40 km like last weekend, yet I decreased the difference between my time and the winner's time by over 10 minutes. This weekend, the winner's time was 2:02 and my time was 2:22. Results are here. The dude who won, Lars Ljung, is a young whippersnapper hotshot who is already routinely scoring FIS points. For those non-ski types reading this, that means he is a world class athlete.

I guess I should be happy with that. It should put me solidly in the 2nd seed of the Vasaloppet. However, I still feel like I could have knocked at least 5 minutes off my time. I definitely felt the fatigue from the last 40 km race I did - oh - 6 days ago. I just didn't have the power on the uphills I had last week. I also was not happy with my waxing. I still had slightly slower skis than the others around me - I know this because on downhills on the single-track portions of the trail, guys were always skiing up over my ski tails and pushing on my ass to avoid plowing through me - but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as during the Hoting loppet.

I just concede that I have no clue what I am doing when waxing classic skis for racing. I know the basics - enough to let me plow through training or the Canadian Ski Marathon, but the finesse of getting really fast skis that have good grip is beyond me. And unlike with skate skis, the effect is immediately noticible and evident. It doesn't take a genius to see who has fast skis in a classic race.

Anyhow, that is my last race before the Vasaloppet. I will do a week or two of base training again with lots of long slow distance. In three weeks I am in Brussels at NATO headquarters for a week, which should be fabulous for training. Or perhaps not. I am seriously considering bringing my rollerskis...

E4

2007-01-27T12:29:00.000-08:00

The E4 is the European Autoroute that runs from the north of Sweden all the way down to Spain somewhere. As such it is of course subject to all kinds of helpful European Union rules and regulations such as the spacing between fence posts and the acceptable colour of the asphalt to be used (black). I only hope I am joking.

But seriously, having just driven over 700 km on this road I think I am somewhat qualified to pronounce it sucks.

First a bit of context. The E4 is the only major road running north/south in Sweden. Since the rail system in Northern Sweden currently blows (this may change with the opening of the new Bothniabahn), the E4 is arguably the economic backbone of the entire country.

The only thing I give a big thumbs up to is the pavement. It is in great condition, and our road guys in Canada should drive on it before claiming our winters are too harsh and the spring thaw too severe to have decent roads.

Everything else about the E4 though seems to be designed to aggravate drivers. The speed limit fluctuates constantly. Not 5 km goes by without the speed limit changing from 110 to 90 or 70 or even 50 km/hr. This baffles me. In a couple of instances, the speed limit changes from 110 to 70 and back to 110 in a distance of less than 200 meters.

Also, on and off ramps are apparently unnecessary. It is much easier to just have every road connect to this major highway with a T-intersection and a stop sign. With, of course, an associated decrease in speed on the E4 to ensure the "merging" is done safely. And while we are on the subject of these intersections, one of the ideas of a highway is to have limited access points. Having intersections every couple of kilometers completely defeats the purpose of a highway. Highway traffic flow should be smooth and high speed - at least on average 100 km/hr. As it is now, you are lucky to average 80 km/hr over long distances. The E4 up here is not so much a highway as a glorified secondary road.

Swedish traffic engineers: Please talk to your colleagues working to make Swedish furniture and household appliances so user friendly. You could stand to learn a thing or two.

Correction

2007-01-27T12:23:00.000-08:00

It has come to the attention of the editing committee here at A Canadian in Sweden that incorrect information has appeared in several of our posts. I particular, it has been pointed out to us that Håkan Wingfors' name is spelled with an "a" - not an "o" as has been previously reported.

The editing committee wishes to extend our sincere apologies to Håkan. In retribution, our correspondent in Umeå will be subjected to a public caning.

Ski stuff

2007-01-24T12:53:00.000-08:00

So I am out at Nydala tonight doing intervals and I meet up with two guys whom I have seen training there all season. One of them was at the loppet this weekend, so I decide that is a good talking point and ask him how it went. Not so good, he says - he was 10th. I ask if he is doing the Vasaloppet. Yes, he probably will. So I ask what seed he will be in. There is a pregnant pause. His friend Per jumps in eventually and says "Johan scored World Cup points last year."

Ah. So that would be the elite seed.

Let me reiterate: at a dinky local ski race with about 100 competitors 200 km from a major town, a dude who scored World Cup points last season placed 10th.

Welcome to Sweden.

Banned Commercial IKEA Werbung

2007-01-23T10:17:00.001-08:00

This commercial was supposed to air in Germany, but the Swedes apparently found it too offensive. It allegedly depicts the Swedish midsummer festivities, and it is ridiculously funny.

Sparking

2007-01-21T09:25:00.000-08:00

Sparks are really cool. They are like chairs on long, flexible runners. You can stand on the runners, hold the chair back and scoot around by pushing off as if you were on a skateboard. In Sweden, they are common around-the-town winter transportation, because sidewalks are left with a few inches of snow on them for that purpose. Roads are snowcovered too because they don't use salt. So Sparking is actually a very practical means of going around villages. Kind of like winter bicycles. So here are a couple of photos I took in Åsele on the way home from the loppet today.

Two ladies sparking about town. You can either have a passenger on the seat,

or use it to hold stuff

I think this is awesome. Spark parking outside the grocery store.

Hotingloppet

2007-01-21T08:54:00.000-08:00

Well, that was a reasonably satisfying, if frustrating, return to the world of ski racing after a 5 year hiatus.

My time sucked. 2:26 for 40 km. Winning time was 1:57. So I am not terribly proud on that count. However, there are extenuating circumstances.

My skis sucked. Not the wax (Oh, I just know that this is going to spark a bunch of snarky comments from the peanut gallery), but the skis themselves. There is no way that a reasonable wax job (Yes! OK? I used wax! I admit it!) could cause such ridiculously slow skis. I even had my skis stone ground.

I know, I know, this sounds like a lame-o excuse. We have all heard it: "Ohhh, I had such a bad race today. My wax sucked..." Well, that is not what I am saying. I am saying that my skis were so unbelievably and demonstrably slow compared to the skis of those people around me, that the wax can't possibly account for it. My skis suck. Period. The whole ski. Not just the 1 micron thick layer of hydrocarbons that are attributed such magical gliding powers.

And I feel strongly enough about this that tomorrow I am going to go and purchase a brand-new pair of Fischer RCS's to ensure that this never happens to me again. Because when your fitness is very good and you are held back by equipment, it is not cool.

And my problem today was most definitely not my fitness. That is why I am actually reasonably pleased with this race. I destroyed people on the uphills. I was actually relishing the next uphill so I could crush another hapless Swedish dude. It was the same story every time: Burn up the hill like a man on fire, get to the crest and start double poling madly while all those guys I had just passed tucked and glided by me like I was standing still. The effect was dramatic enough that at around km 30, I skied up behind some dude and was about to pass him when we reached a 200 m downhill. At the bottom, he was 40 m ahead of me. Of course, exact measurements are impossible, but that is roughly correct. I would not hesitate to guess that my skis were up to 20% slower than the median.

And just to lay any speculation to rest: my grip was nothing great either. I didn't spatula on gobs of klister so I could run up hills only to have to run down the other side also. Normally if your glide sucks, your grip is OK. I wasn't so lucky. My wax was for temperatures down to -10, and at the start line it was -11 (C). Normally, that would be considered a good thing because temperatures generally warm up over ther course of a race.

There are few things I can think of that are more frustrating than passing someone on an uphill only to have them glide past you on the next downhill. It is just so damn unfair. But I guess that is the nature of skiing. But it is not something I need to accept lying down. This is one of those problems that does disappear if you throw enough money at it. You just have to pony up the dough for a new pair of skis.

I guess I am also glad I found out about this during a reasonably unimportant race. It would have been a disaster to discover this at km 10 of the 90 km Vasaloppet.

Next weekend I have another 40 km loppet, and if my new skis are not ready, I am borrowing my friend Håkon's skis. According to him, they were bombs today. Next week the course is much flatter which should, under normal circumstances favour me because I have been working on my double pole so much. So we will see how that turns out.

Well this kind of blows

2007-01-19T06:38:00.000-08:00

So those achy muscles I have had all week weren't because I overdid it training.

Turns out I have some kind of low-grade flu or something.

So here is my dilemma: The race this weekend is probably the only race within a day's travel from Umeå that I will be able to do this winter. This race is a seeding qualifier for the Vasa, and all the other such races are already cancelled due to lack of snow or are really far away (far enough to require a flight, like in Finland). I know that racing 40 km while sick is stupid, but I also know that I am in good enough shape that as long as I just finish the race, I will be upgraded in the seeding. This is important, because if you are not seeded, you are put behind everyone at the start. If that happens the Vasa transforms from a 5 hour race into an 8 hour sightseeing tour. I haven't trained this hard to go sightseeing.

So sick or no, I will probably be racing Sunday unless I am positively bedridden. No matter how sick it will make me, I will have lots of time to recover before the Vasa. And I have to keep my eye on the prize here - sometimes a bit of discomfort is necessary to achieve your goals.

Olles spår update

2007-01-18T11:05:00.000-08:00

I have mentioned my Olle story at work.. It turns out that Olle - the guy shoveling snow, clearing brush, and setting the trail last week - is over 80 years old.

I would have given him 60 - maybe 65, tops.

You can't say that about too many hockey players.

Lagom

2007-01-18T10:39:00.000-08:00

I was introduced to the concept of "lagom" this week. Lagom is a uniquely Swedish word that has no direct English equivalent. Swedes are not fond of excesses in any form (except the liquid kind) and this is why they have a word like "lagom", which means roughly "just enough" or maybe "with moderation".

Everything can - and should be - lagom. Doing things in moderation here means always taking the middle path. If there is a three lane highway anywhere in this country (Maybe Stockholm, I don't know), I guarantee that Swedes will clog the middle lane. So you hear the term "Lagom bra" fairly frequently. This means basically "Just about right and nothing to make a fuss about." (Bra means good in Swedish and has nothing to do with average sized lingerie.)

I should do a Swedish vocabulary series - or maybe a Swedish Word of the Day. Hmmm. Not a bad idea. I could start with "Slut" (finish) and "Slappa" (to be lazy). Which of course brings up the amusing possibility of trying to express "finish being lazy". I don't actually know if you could say "Slappa slut" in polite society or not. Or even if it really means anything. It just makes me laugh because I am juvenile and something of a dumbass.

And for those out there who are really juvenile... Something that is damp... is "fukt".

OK, I will stop. I turn 34 in a month. It shows, doesn't it?

Olles spår

2007-01-13T08:57:00.000-08:00

We finally got a bit of snow last night. Perhaps 5 cm, certainly no more than 10 cm. When I checked the local ski track condition website, I was surprised to see that Olles spår was listed as being open.

Olles spår literally means "Olle's track". It is a fixture on the local ski scene. Olle is some old dude who - like many Scandinavians - really likes skiing. No, he really, really likes skiing. So much so that he decided a few decades back that he could build and maintain trails better than the local clubs could. His track has a 14 km loop and a 10 km loop, and it is entirely on his property, entirely maintained by him, and is free to use by anyone who wants. People training for the Vasaloppet often go there to train because the flat terrain is just like the Vasa (or so I am told).

I arrived at Olles spår this morning, skeptical to say the least. There is less than 10 cm of snow on the ground. There is no way you can have a decent trail with less than 10 cm of snow. Unless you cheat and use millions of dollars of public funds to build a refrigerated track and artificial snow, like at Nydala. However, skiing the exact same trail since the beginning of Novemeber has made me a bit desperate, and I was willing to at least go see what magic Olle had allegedly worked.

It turns out that Olle has invented some kind of sled that he pulls behind his rickity skidoo that gently scrapes the top few cm of snow from the sides of the trail and deposits them in the middle, making a nice pile of snow 30 cm deep. Then he goes around on his skidoo again, with a standard track setter, putting in a perfect trail in the pile of snow. Amazing.

So I head out, pleased beyond all reason because I can finally ski on another trail, and... I run into Olle himself. Our conversation went thusly:

Me; Hej! Ar du Olle? (hi! are you Olle?)

Olle; Jag! Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah... (in very fast Swedish)

Me (with vacant, hunted look in eyes); Uhhh... Jag taler liten svenska... (uh, I don't speak much Swedish)

Olle (totally undiscouraged); Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah? (again, in very fast Swedish, and now waiting for a response)

Me; Uhhh..Jag heter Jeff? Jag kommer frän Kanada? (Uh, my name is Jeff? I´m from Canada?)

Olle thought this was hilarious. He is a friendly old dude, that is for sure. Over the next 3 hours, I ran into him a few other times as he puttered around his track, removing branches or scooping snow onto bare spots. Every time he saw me, he started to laugh and would say something I couldn't even begin to decipher, so I would yell "Jag kommer frän Kanada!" as I skied by, which would crack him up even more.

I wish there were more guys like Olle out there.

Meds

2007-01-12T06:36:00.000-08:00

I am rather resistant to taking medicine of any kind, partly because I subscribe to the school of thought that "anything that doesn't kill you makes you stronger" and partly because I think pain and misery develops character.

However, I finally caved and started taking melatonin this week in order to sleep. I haven't had a decent night of sleep since I got back to Sweden, and my colleagues at work finally got fed up with my dopey, sleep deprived "uh - what were we talking about?" behaviour. So I got some melatonin and I have to say the results are quite satisfying. After only two days, I am back to an almost normal sleep schedule, and that feels rather nice. Those of you out there who know me well know how much I appreciate sleep, so the past two weeks have not been very fun.

IFK Umeå

2007-01-10T08:35:00.000-08:00

So I am now a card-carrying member of Idrottsföreningen Kamraterna (IFK) Umeå skidor. Literally translated, it means "The Comrades Sports Club". The IFK thing was started at the turn of the last century by two 16 year old kids in Stockholm. In 1895, Louis Zettersten and Pehr Ehnemark thought it would be fun to start a sports club. Today there are 167 IFK clubs across Sweden, all coordinated by a central office that is still in Stockholm.

The Umeå branch is a relative newcomer, having been founded in 1901 (Nov. 1 to be precise). It is an umbrella organization with clubs for Badminton, Bowling, Boxing, Football (soccer), Friidrott (whatever that is), orienteering, xc skiing, and weightlifting. I honestly don't know much about the other sports, but IFK Umeå skidor had a few years of international attention in xc skiing a while back because of Per Eloffsen.

Per was the World Champion in 2001 and the dude who got totally screwed at the 2002 Olympics because of the druggie Johan Muehlegg. Per should have won several of the races, but was denied by Johan who was later stripped of his medals for blood doping infractions. Anyhow, that story is not the point of this post.

As I was saying, I am now a full member of IFK Umeå skidor, and I proudly picked up my racing suit today. Here it is - the first new suit I have owned since 2001.

Where I live

2007-01-10T08:19:00.000-08:00

One of my colleagues at work just gave me this link to a mapping web site specific to Sweden. They have satellite imagery for Sweden in far greater detail than Google does. So, here is where I live. My apartment is on the second floor, last one on the bottom of the inverted L of the building (south-most) and here is where I work.

By request - lyrics to Barrett's Privateers

2007-01-08T07:13:00.000-08:00

I think that this is arguably one of the best Canadian folk songs ever - it is right up there with anything Gordon Lightfoot wrote (yes, even the Canadian Railroad Trilogy). Does anyone know if Stan Rogers received the Order of Canada before he died? If not, he should get it posthumously.

Oh the year was 1778
How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now
A letter of marque came from the king
To the scummiest vessel I've ever seen

Chorus:
God damn them all
I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier,
The last of Barrett's Privateers

Oh Elcid Barrett cried the town
For twenty brave men all fishermen who
Would make for him the Antelope's crew

The Antelope sloop was a sickening sight
She'd list to the port and her sails in rags
And the cook in the scuppers with the staggers and jags

On the King's birthday we put to sea
Ninety-one days to Montego Bay
Pumping like madmen all the way

On the ninety-sixth day we sailed again
When a great big Yankee hove in sight
With our cracked four-pounders we made to fight

The Yankee lay low down with gold
She was broad and fat and loose in stays
But to catch her took the Antelope two whole days

Then at length she stood two cables away
Our cracked four-pounders made awful din
But with one fat ball the Yank stove us in

The Antelope shook and pitched on her side
Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs
And the main truck carried off both me legs

Now here I lay in my twenty-third year
It's been six years since we sailed away
And I just made Halifax yesterday

Out of date, but worth it

2007-01-08T06:41:00.000-08:00

The official photo CD of this summer's CIOR Congress in Viterbo Italy is allegedly now available. I haven't seen it yet, but this photo is apparently on it. This was taken at about 3 am, in the Viterbo town square, in the fountain. During the day, this would be rather frowned upon, but at 3 am, you can get away with all kinds of great stuff. If memory serves, this was taken immediately after a rousing rendition of Barrett's Privateers. The Viterbans were no doubt rather glad to see us leave their town.

From left to right, Arif Hirji (a LCol from Toronto, but surprisingly cool despite that handicap), Johan (a public affairs Lt from Denmark - a great guy), "Daaaaaaave Meister, C93 FM" (an airforce Capt from Winnipeg and a former radio DJ), yours truly, and the only chick who survived the night, Capt. Isabelle Mousseau (who - when she isn't selling her soul on a Class B contract in the bowels of NDMC is a sometimes-model and future med student)

This was a very excellent night. Here is looking to next summer's congress in Riga, Latvia! (are there any fountains in Riga? Just curious)

Messed up sleep

2007-01-06T21:57:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I can see this is going to take a bit longer than I thought.

I woke up at 2 am after 4 hours of sleep, fully alert and ready to get on with my day. Since then, I have been in bed, staring at my cieling and hoping I would drift off again. No luck.

Yesterday I woke up at noon after 14 hours of sleep.

My body just doesn't know what is going on. What with the jetlag and lack of light, there is no way for it to re-calibrate. I don't have any symptoms of seasonal affective disorder (SAD) but I am thinking of spending some time in the light room at the hospital, just to try to get my body back in whack. This is just weird.

Even weirder, is that athleticly (athletically?) I feel awesome. When I am skiing, I feel extremely strong. I beat some of the local hotshots during double pole interval training at Nydala the other night. I just don't build up lactic acid at all right now. Yesterday I classic-skied 54 km in 3 hours, all at a HR under 140 beats per minute - a comfortable zone 1 for me.

I am a bit worried I am in some kind of unintended, unplanned-for peak. Which would suck, seeing how the Vasaloppet is 2 months away. Peaking is hard to do, and getting 2 in one season is something I have never accomplished.

Rick Mercer

2007-01-05T11:04:00.000-08:00

This is why Rick is a great man: funny as hell and he is more concerned about our troops that are in harm's way than many politicians I could name.

http://rickmercer.blogspot.com/

Rick, do us a favour and run for public office. I would love to watch you during Question Period.

A lovely sunset...

2007-01-05T11:03:00.000-08:00

...in Umeå at 2 pm.

God Nyt År!

2007-01-03T02:18:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone, and welcome back. Hope you all had a great holidays. If I haven't been in touch, drop me an e-mail and lets catch up.

I spent the Christmas period at home in Vankleek Hill Ontario, but I managed to do quite a bit of travelling and made it up to Ottawa and Montreal a couple of times.

I arrived back in Umeå on the 30th, with the cunning plan of using my jet lag to its full advantage during the New Years bash the next day. Hey - midnight would feel like 6 pm! Awesome! I could act like a grown up and make it to midnight without passing out for a change.

Funny how that little thing called the Law of Unintended Consequences has the most remarkable way of rearing its ugly head.

So as I mentioned before leaving, my friend Daniel Ragnvaldsson was OIC to figure out what we were doing New Years. He is doing his Ph.D. and is the Swedish javelin champion. He has a good social network around Umeå, so I figured I was in good hands.

We started the evening at his friend Jonas' place. Jonas is a physiotherapist who works at the university. Great guy, and an amazing chef. Check this spread out:

This doesn't really do the entire thing justice, because this was just the 2nd course of 4. Jonas doesn't use recipes - he makes them up himself. This impressed me immensely.

Actually, we started the festivities at Jonas' parents place in the afternoon - they have a great sauna. Anyhow. The alcohol only started flowing during dinner, so lets start there.

By the end of dinner we were already well on our way, as this photo of Daniel will attest:

This man hurls lethal spears at high velocity for a living. Not a reassuring thought.

A photo of Jonas. Notice the excellent shirt. A man after my own sartorial taste:

Jonas spent a year on exchange in Idaho as a teenager and he is quite possibly the only Swede on the planet who not only likes Bluegrass, but who owns an MP3 of the theme to Deliverance. Yeah, the hillbilly banjo tune. Surreal.

After dinner we took a taxi to Tomas' place. Tomas is a mutual friend of Jonas and Daniel. I have no idea how they know each other, to be honest. Anyhow, Tomas was hosting the party. At midnight, the town of Umeå had a very respectable fireworks display. I was quite impressed. The party was OK, but Daniel the lightweight called it quits at 1 am. My cunning plan of taking advantage of my jet lag was working perfectly! I managed to stay up until the party was eventually shut down, and I walked back to my apartment at 5 am.

Then I slept through the entire next day, woke up a 9 pm, and realized that my internal clock was severely messed up in ways I have only ever dreamed of. Recall at this point the Law of Unintended Consequences. The fact that there is almost no daylight up here doesn't help matters. So now it is 3 days later and I am just beginning to snap out of it. I figure I should be back up to speed in a day or two.

Was it worth it? Well...

Absolutely.

...and this is why putting wool toques in the wash is not recommended...

2007-01-03T02:14:00.000-08:00

In my weak defence, I didn't see the toque in the load of laundry when I threw it in.

Updates

2006-12-15T13:38:00.000-08:00

Well, I leave tomorrow at noon to get to Stockholm in time for my connection Sunday morning. Yeah, thats right. Flights out of Umeå are somewhat limited at the best of times, and on weekends it is worse. So I could either take a 1 hr flight Saturday or take a 10 hour train ride. My flight out of Stockholm leaves at 06h00 Sunday, so there was no way I was going to be able to leave Umeå Sunday and get there on time.

Anyhow, the point of this is just to say that for practical reasons, I have decided not to bring my laptop with me. I can't really see myself getting any work done at home, and I hate giving airport security any additional reasons to harass me. So posts will be quite limited over the next couple of weeks. I will be in Vankleek Hill (home) for most of the time between the 17th Dec. and the 29th when I fly out. I will also be spending some time in Ottawa and Quebec City, so I will get around also. Anyhow, I hope to see at least some of my Loyal and Alert Readers while I'm home, and for those I won't see, happy holidays!

Next major post will come the 1st or 2nd of January - I have been invited to the New Years' party of the Swedish national javelin champion Daniel Ragnvaldsson. Daniel has his office just across the hall from mine, he is working on his Ph.D. Really great guy, and the grapevine has it that he throws amazing parties. From what I understand, a significant number of national level track athletes should be there, so it could be interesting to say the least.

So at the very least, tune back in around early January for a full party report.

Dept. of You Can't Make This Stuff Up

2006-12-14T08:56:00.000-08:00

Residents of Fjuckby demand new name

"Having stoically accepted years of relentless badgering, the people of Fjuckby have finally had enough. The Swedish villagers are crossing their fingers that the National Heritage Board will see it their way and grant them a new name."

How to mess up your life in one easy step

2006-12-14T07:45:00.000-08:00

Ahh Myriam.

Watching your life right now is a lot like watching a train wreck.

Let me guess: The arrest warrant for abducting your own daughter is part of the vast governmental conspiracy to destroy you, following your brave and selfless whistleblowing during the Sponsorship scandal.

Light therapy

2006-12-14T07:24:00.000-08:00

A nifty little article that hit the newlines yesterday out or Reuters about various stuff Swedes do to get through the dark time (an expression which always makes me think of something from the Lord of the Rings)

They talk about light therapy and St. Lucia. It is worth a read if you are interested.

St. Lucia

2006-12-14T06:54:00.000-08:00

Most people have no idea how the Lutheran Swedes came to celebrate the Sicilian Roman Catholic Saint Lucia when even the Sicilians don't pay her much attention. In Swedish homes, hospitals, factories and offices, Lucia comes to spread light in the deep winter darkness, usually long before dawn (which right now is just before it gets dark again). Little blonde girls, teenage blonde girls, and not-so-young-any-more Maj-Britt who works in the chromatography lab, dress up in a full length white gowns with a red ribbon around their waist and become St. Lucia. Lucia wears a wreath of lingonberry sprigs on her head and in the wreath are several lit candles (I am not making any of this up). Because only one can be Lucia, all the other less fortunate dark haired girls have to walk behind her, kind of like Lucia bridesmaids. Since Sweden is extremely egalitarian, boys (or Erik from the purchasing department) are invited to take part in the procession as Lucia's henchmen and bouncers.

This festival is typically and uniquely Swedish and the song (surprisingly and imaginatively entitled "Sankta Lucia) is sung by Lucia and her back-up band of bridesmaids and henchmen. It brings tears to everybody's eyes, as well it should.

St. Lucia where I work. St. Lucia has taken off her crown (it is in front of the singers)

Craziness in the House of Commons

2006-12-11T12:48:00.001-08:00

This is one of the funniest things I have seen in quite some time. Just a warning - there is a fair bit of salty language but it is oh, so worth it.

Julmust

2006-12-11T10:18:00.000-08:00

I was introduced to Julmust this past weekend. It is a local soft drink that is only available in Sweden over the Christmas season and Easter and literally translated means "Christmas Concentrate." It is a bit like Coke except a bit fruitier and apparently has no caffeine (which beggars the imagination - if there is one thing Swedes love it is caffeine). Here is a nifty graph I found showing Julmust sales vs. Cola sales over the course of 2003-2004:

For non-engineers out there, over the Christmas season sales of this dinky two-bit local softdrink (which has effectively no sales during the summer months) kicks all cola brands combined asses by a ratio of about 3:2.

Apparently this drives Coca Cola absolutely bananas. However, despite decades of carpet bomb advertisements over the holidays, they are still being outsold in Sweden.

I know I did my bit. I can't remember ever buying a bottle of Coke in my entire life (cans don't count), but I have a bottle of Julmust in my fridge right now. I rather like it.

Swedish finance

2006-12-11T09:35:00.000-08:00

Asking anyone how much they earn is a sure-fire way to bring a conversation to an awkward conclusion. However, I have been scratching away at this question in general since arriving here in Umeå, and the fact is that wages in Sweden are lower than in Canada. However, the difference between what the lowest wage-earners and the highest wage earners is also much lower. The socialist system and strong union framework mean that even unskilled workers earn what is called a "living wage". I read a report a little while ago which showed that Swedish CEO's earn on average 4 times what the lowest paid workers in their company make. In the UK, the difference was something like 15 times, and in the US about 200 times. I will set aside the question of whether such a system encourages and rewards excellence or not.

The thing that baffled me is how people make ends meet here. Wages are lower, yet virtually all consumer staples including food are noticably more expensive. Income tax is marginally higher than in Canada (yes even in Quebec). Even with rent control, rent is comparable or even a bit more expensive than back home.

So today then I read this it didn't surprise me at all. 33% of Swedes would have to move to cheaper accommodation if their monthly disposable income dropped by about $300. Fully 75% (!) would have to move if their monthly disposable income dropped by about $750. That is cutting it pretty close, I would say. It also means a few months of unforeseen expenses (car repair, dental bill, veterinarian bill, the list goes on) would put many people under.

This illustrates what I consider to be one of the great drawbacks to socialist policy: it encourages citizens to transfer their personal responsibility to the government. You can afford to live on the brink of financial disaster because the feeling is that the government will be there to pick you up and brush you off if the worst ever does happen.

I just hope that a lot of these folks have a plan B if the government isn't there in their time of need. Things should start getting interesting in the next 10 years or so when the number of Baby Boomer pensioners outnumbers the number of people who are working.