I’ve been feeling really nostalgic of Sweden over the past few weeks, and felt the need to take a good load of Nordic culture before my flight to Stockholm next week..

As I promised to a Swedish friend that I would attend the Lucia celebrations in Paris, I honored my word and escaped a little bit earlier than usual from the office yesterday, to take part in the festivities at the Swedish Institute.

That was the moment the weather turned from pretty OK, to raining like hell.Classical. But didn’t prevent me from going anyway!

So at 18.45, I was right in front of the City hall, for the lightning of the two giant Christmas tree offered to Paris by Victoria, Crown Princess of Sweden.

Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t quite right on time, therefore missed Victoria, Frank Belfarge, Swedish ambassador in Paris, and Betrand Delanoe, mayor of Paris.

Swedish Christmas trees in Paris!

Though, I didn’t miss the rain, and took a good shower.

I got perked up once arrived in the courtyard of the Institute, as I found there some glögg and pepperkakor. (God only knows how much I was in a desperate need of pepperkakor these times!).

We were many, students, grewns up,  families, french, swedes, to be waiting for the choir with our cups of glögg.

There, for the first time in Paris, someone engaged the conversation with me in Swedish. Which felt ackward at first, but incredibly good! (And I insist, even though the guy immediatly figured out I was french, he kept it in Swedish! <– proud moment :)

Glöööögg!!!!!!

As the rain wasn’t apparently willing to stop, it’s inside the old french building that the choir sang the traditionnal Lucia songs.

I thought I had managed to get the best place in the theater, at the front row. Before the tallest guy there that night decided to pick the chair right in front of me. Classical…

The choir was good... ;)

Anyway, despite the rain, despite the fact that I missed the Christmas trees lightning, and despite the tall guy, it was a great moment, and it reminded me of good memories. Last year, we had a celebration at the office, and the singers were none else, but my colleagues!

And my guess is that I was not the only one in the attendance, feeling a bit nostalgic, considering that we were very many to sing softly with the choir (which is rude, I know! But we were in France, after all ;)

Natten går tunga fjät
rund gård och stuva;
kring jord, som sol förlät,
skuggorna ruva.
Då i vårt mörka hus,
stiger med tända ljus,
Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia.

During a moment, I really felt like in Sweden… :)

Lucia in Paris!

On the way home, the metro was packed, a busker was playing trumpet accompanied by a bunch of students bawling out, and my direct neighbour apparently forgot about the existence of deodorant. Back to reality…

I opened the Swedish Insitutes magazine I picked earlier, and the very  first phrase I read was “La Suède, on y revient toujours…”

A sign? ;)

Ok, ok, it’s nothing new, and you might have figured that out already : I do miss Sweden.

Of course a part of it is due to the fact that I miss the life I had there. Being freshly arrived in a new country, having everything to learn and discover was obviously way more exciting than just working my ass off, not knowing what the future will throw on my way.

But beyond the simple fact that I had many much more occasions to have fun up there than in Paris, it’s the country that I miss.

I miss the people being polite, respectful, clean and non-intrusive.

I miss the space and the calm, in the streets, in the apartments, in the metro, in the stores, in the bars, in the caffés, on the terraces,… I miss the landscapes, the parks, the lakes, the water, the woods, the islands, the nature,…  I miss the total absence of pollution, and the fact the I could breathe without coughing all the time.

I  miss living in a clean city, absolutely free of any dodgy place.

I miss knowing why the third of my salary goes the government. I miss life being simple and paperwork-free.

I miss Stockholm, Söder, and Solna.

I miss the fact that whenever I needed to chill out, I could just pick a book, and go to take some rest in a park, or in a caffè.

I miss taking time to live. (Ok, probably my current schedule doesn’t help to feel good neither)

Pieces of Sweden

In Sweden, I wouldn’t have to wait three months of assessment to be payed back for the health care I need. I could subscribe again to some swedish courses. Or history. Whatever, I could do it for free.

In other words, in Sweden, I would know where the third of my salary goes. And yes, I enjoyed to pay so much taxes in Sweden.

There, I wouldn’t have to wait being in my thirties to buy my own apartment, in a place where there would be light in the stairwell (I don’t) , and where I wouldn’t fear to be mugged anytime I step foot outside…

Of course, if I was not a student, I could live in a nicer neighbourhood,  but after all, there are no places in Paris I’d enjoy living as much as I would on Södermalm.

I simply would like to be able to go for a walk in a calm park nearby my place on Sundays, take some fresh air and sit down for a while with a caffe latte and some good music in the iPod.

It’s not much to ask, but it requires a lot of work and a long way to go, in order to be able to live this life again.

The closest 7 eleven, 1000 km away from Paris

Paris starts to bring me down, and I’m not quite sure I’ll get anything good out of that.

Some might find it cheesy, ridiculous or whatever. But yes, it’s been some weeks that I feel country sick, in my own hometown.

Which sucks, really.

One year ago, on the 25th of November 2008, I took a plane to Stockholm, with no idea what was about to happen.

Which was exactly why I was in that plane, after all :)

I remember that I haven’t slept during that night, as well as the five nights before. The five first, cause I was partying, the last one cause of me having to pack all the stuff I hadn’t packed, precisely cause I was partying.

2008/11/25 - 3.00

I remember I was in a truly pathetic physical state before we boarded…

I remember we flew SAS, the Swedish airline.

I remember, while I was getting in the plane, that I picked a Swedish newspaper on the top of the pile, to realize two seconds later that it was actually written in Swedish.

When I asked the steward, in french, if they had any french newspaper, I remember him looking at me eyes wide open, babbling something I didn’t quite get, but took as a “no“.

When I tried to answer “no problem” in english, I realized that maybe, there could be kind of a gap between what I thought I could handle in english, and what I was really able to handle…

I remember having figured out, at that very precise moment, that this could be only a foretaste of all the struggling I was about to go through. During one year…

2008/11/25 - 9.30

I remember that in spite of my obvious lack of language skills especially when it came to swedish, I tried to understand what was the newspaper about. Unsuccessfully, of course.

I also remember that on the ad stuck on the seat in front of me, I couldn’t understand why numbers were followed by a weird symbol, that looked like a horizontal dick.

2008/11/25 - 11.30

I found out later that the horizontal dick actually stands for the symbol of the Swedish currency : the Swedish crown ; the SEK ; the…  :-

When we landed, I remember I thought that Arlanda airport smelled like an Ikea store.

2008/11/25 - 13.15

I remember the first Swedish landscapes I saw, through the window of the shuttle to Stockholm. It was covered with snow, and I found it gorgeous…

2008/11/25 - 14.00

I remember when I went outside for the first time in Sweden, I took a deep breathe, and smiled at the idea that I was about to spend a year in a place where I could actually breathe without coughing and spitting my lungs cause of the pollution.

I remember that once in Stockholm, we struggled to pick a cab and to pronounce the name of the place we had to go : Kungsklippan.

When we finally picked one, the driver dropped us 500 meters from where we got in. Which was actually where we had to go.

I remember it was 14.30 when we arrived in the apartment we had sublet.  When we got out of the apartment at 15.30, it was NIGHT.

2008/11/25 - 15.30

I remember we took the metro, and saw the most ridiculous ad ever… I thought Swedish advertising to be pretty… original.

2008/11/25 - 16.00

I remember me being drinking a cappuccino  in “Espressino“, a caffe we stopped by on Götgatan. I remember the powerful feeling I had at that moment, finally to be there.

I remember that during my stay in Stockholm, I’ve always had a thought for that moment , whenever I passed in front of this cafe, although I never went in again.

I remember on that day, I fell in love with Stockholm.

2008/11/25 - 17.00

All in all, I remember how far I was from realizing how much my life would change from that point.

Oh yes, the 25th of November 2008 was for me one of these days your life takes a switch from the “what doesn’t kill makes stronger” type, whithout you actually figures it out.

Indeed, I’ve come a long way, since.

But I remember this day as if it was yesterday :)

In Paris, I’m in a constant struggle for finding nice places  to hang out and chill out with my fellows… Especially now that I crossed the Seine to land in the North of Paris.

When I looked up on Google for “nice bars rue Marx Dormoy”, not only I haven’t found anything, but some of the first results were just about the best places in Paris to get cannabis loads.

Well, you probably got my point : my neighbourhood was in the top three (not to say the first one…)

Creeper than creepy!

I never experienced any troubles with the weird people I happened to pass by, thankfully, but prefer definitely not to drag on in my neighborhood.

I had to look for my bliss a little bit farther, in the districts around Montmartres hill.

Stopping by Lamarck Caulaincourt, three metro stations from my place, to have brunch with my little bro was probably one of the best idea I’ve had since I moved in the 18th district of Paris.

No cannabis load for us, but we ate in “Le Café qui parle”* croissants nutella and chocolate buns until the simple idea of putting something in our mouth turns unbearable.

It seems like we don’t share the same values in Paris, from a metro station to another!

"Le café qui parle"

* Le café qui parle, 24 rue Caulaincourt, 75018 Paris. Best french brunch ever, on Saturdays and Sundays from 10am to 4pm.

That’s what I’ve been wondering all the day long…

As the “Almighty french administration” apparently decided not to let me get proper ID papers, I’ve been spending  my day running around from my office, to the Parisian police head office, city hall… With no result.

I arrived at the airport with the heap of paperwork I had to gather in order to get the problem sorted out, but… no ID.

I prepared myself to the idea of being at the office tomorrow morning until I presented myself at the SAS desk, at Charles de Gaulle. The agents actually strived to let me board, in spite of my ID lacking. And they actually managed to get me in the plane…

Today, I can affirm that I’ve never been so happy to be waiting in a boarding gate.

Conclusion of the day : French administration sucks, Scandinavian airlines KICKS ASS!!!

France : -1

Sweden : +1