Ode to Winter

Orsa Grönklitt - A snow oasis in the “fjällen” (mountains) of Dalarna.  

After surviving winters in Sweden for the first couple of years, we decided that we should embrace all of that cold white stuff and get skis. Cross-country skis, that is. Two years ago we embarked on our very first cross-country ski experience. Let me just say a couple of things about that:

Uncooked spaghetti.

Bambi.

I felt like Bambi trying to walk with skinny pieces of uncooked spaghetti strapped to my feet. How in the world would I be able to do this? I think I skied a total of three times that first winter. “Skied” being a generous description. The following year, for some insane reason, I decided to complete the Tjej Klassik, comprised of a 100km bike ride, a 1km swim, a 10km run, and a 30km ski. 

By winter, I had completed everything except for the ski portion. So I was, you could say, committed. We never got much snow that winter in Stockholm but with my determination to complete this “Tjej Klassik" feat, we rented a car on two different occasions to drive up to more snow so I could practice my “ski techniques". I also took a private lesson, which helped tremendously. By the time the actual race came along, I was, what I thought, adequately prepared. 

I completed the 30km race in just under 5 hours. If you aren’t sure, that is pretty slow. However, I did complete it faster than many of the participants so I did not consider my own time so bad. In fact, I felt a bit like a super hero and imagined myself somewhat of a cross-country ski buff. Ha.

Fast forward to this year. We still did not get much snow in Stockholm. What little snow we did get, our skis, which we discovered on the last morning skiing in Stockholm would be possible, were not in “ski condition.” Meaning, the klister I had put on my skis the previous year (yes, we did not clean them following the race) was pretty much baked on and had formed a hard, plastic-y layer. We were forced to take our skis in to be serviced. 

(Fredagsmys (cozy Friday) in the cabin)

The following weekend, I suppose we could have gone grass-skiing but it just felt fake. There was essentially no snow. FYI, we had a ski trip booked for mid March with my husband’s sister and her husband, who had skied several times already this winter, not to mention that they are pretty much, serious ski buffs. Like for real. We had not been “on” our skis one time this winter.

(Cobalt sky + snow + pine trees = Happy)

Fast forward again, and there we were on that Friday morning, at Orsa Grönklitt, standing precariously on our skis for the first time in a year, about to embark upon a cross-country ski adventure. It felt surprisingly like the very first time I stood on my skis. Uncooked spaghetti. Bambi. It was not so much like “riding a bike” where once you have achieved “balance” it all sort of falls into place. 

(Looking like a pro)

We managed to ski 14km the first day and despite being so sore we could barely walk and if I was sitting on the couch and wanted to cross my legs, I had to physically pick up my leg and cross it over the other leg, we went out again the next day! (I know this was a long, run-on sentence, but it felt necessary to say it that way). 

(Every day was absolutely gorgeous)

Despite our soreness and my feeling like I wouldn’t make it 1km on the skis, we managed to ski almost the same distance the second day. And DESPITE the fact that I had skied the Tjej Klassik the previous year, my husband, who I was almost skiing circles around the previous year, was passing me and skiing circles around ME this year. 

(A tiny snowman)

I don’t know what happened. Maybe my memories of the difficulty of completing the 30km the previous year were blocking my ski abilities this year. I must have suppressed that because I remembered myself to be somewhat of a super hero cross-country skier. Which was not so much the case. 

(Taken with my husband's new GoPro camera)

Even so, Orsa Grönklitt was amazingly beautiful. Out on the trails, if you stopped skiing, you could hear absolutely nothing, with the exception of a bird chirping on occasion. There was cobalt blue sky as far as the eye could see and sunshine, loud and clear, beating her warm rays down on our deprived, winter bodies. It was heavenly.

(A well-earned Happy Hour)

Our cabin itself was a sacred sanctuary, complete with every modern convenience one could possible want. It was a two bedroom cabin with bunk beds. For reasons that may not seem obvious at first, be sure to claim the bottom bunk immediately. After the first day of skiing you will understand. The adorable (tiny) little built-in ladder that you loved earlier that day will suddenly seem like an insult.

(During skiing...)

(After skiing...) 

But all in all and soreness aside, I would highly recommend a cross-country ski trip here in the winter. It was the perfect active getaway. And if you plan for a cabin close to the ski trails, there is little need for leaving the cabin or getting in your car again until your departure date (unless you need to make an emergency ice cream run :-p).

Stockholm's Best Kept Secret (Shhhh!!! Don't Tell...)

In case you were wondering how tough it is to survive a Swedish winter, I'm here to tell you, TOUGH! Here we are, a month into "real" winter, that is, temperatures staying below freezing (32 F, or 0 C), and I am nearing my tipping point. I can say however that I am still enjoying wearing my wool socks, sweaters, hats, and gloves. And it is still seems like fun to drink hot cocoa outdoors and feel like a brave Viking, while enduring my eyes tearing up from the icy air blowing not-so-gently into my face. 

Then the thought hits me. There will be at least two more months of this!!! The bravery starts to diminish and the whimpering begins. And even though we really are embracing winter by going XC skiing (cross-country) and anything else we can think of to truly enjoy the Swedish winter, so as not to just sit back and suffer through the dark and cold (but still cozy days), it is starting to get tough.

I start to crave wearing sandals and t-shirts and the feeling of warm sunshine beating down on my brow. Of eating an ice cream cone and not getting goose-bumps while enjoying it. And just about the time I think I can no longer endure it, a couple of friends invite me to join them in a visit to Storkyrkobadet - a sauna and bath house in Gamla Stan. 

Seriously, this is the best kept secret in town! For just 50 Swedish kronor (about 8 US dollars) you can enjoy a cozy hot wood sauna, with a lovely indoor, candlelit pool to cool off in. Yes, real candles light your way as you swim from one end to the next. Completely lovely. In addition, we discovered on our visit that you can also sign up for a 20 minute massage, or skin peel, for only 150 kronor extra. Now granted, the massage and skin peel are more therapeutic than spa-like in reality but when your knots are melting away and your skin is being polished (to a shine), who really cares? You leave feeling refreshed and able to bear the cold once again. 

I was telling a colleague of mine about my visit to Storkyrkobadet and she revealed an interesting bit of history about it. Apparently the bath house has been around for quite a long time. In fact, she told me, since the days that inhabitants of Gamla Stan flocked to the bath house for their daily, weekly (or perhaps monthly?) baths because their apartments had no showers or bathtubs! Can you believe it?! I was completely shocked. 

She also shared with me that her very first apartment as a young adult did not have a bath or shower, but that there was a communal bath house that all of the tenants shared. You had to sign up ahead of time to use it, similar to signing up for the laundry room. She did mention that her apartment had a toilet and a sink. Thank goodness! Okay, this was 30 years ago but still. 

Would you like the idea of a communal bath house? I personally like having my own shower and bath but I think it is an interesting concept.

For those of you who live in the Stockholm area, I can highly recommend a visit to Storkyrkobadet. My entire experience from my walk through the quaint cobblestone streets of the old town area to the relaxing warmth of the bathhouse was refreshing and invigorating. Ladies can visit on Monday and Thursday evenings. 

Winter Bike Ride

Last January, around the second week of the new year, my husband ordered dubbdäck (studded winter tires) for his bike and he asked if I wanted him to order a set for my bicycle as well. Now for those of you who know me, you are probably thinking, “She’s going to ride her bicycle in the cold Swedish winter? Is she crazy?!” Without a doubt, you are correct. Every part of me wanted to reply, “Thanks but no thanks. There is no way I am getting on my bike when there is snow and ice on the ground.” Every part of me except that weird, unrecognizable voice that spoke up meekly and said “Um... okay.”  What? Okay?! Yes, this same person, who three years ago bought a winter coat that looks like a sleeping bag with arms, was now contemplating riding a bike in the harsh winter of Sweden.

Let me back up just a bit to defend that kooky, meek-voiced person. Up until this point in time our winter had been quite mild. The temperatures were around or above freezing (in the thirties Fahrenheit) and there was no snow or ice in sight. That still feels cold but when you have minus 10 degrees Celsius to compare it to, anything between zero to five degrees Celsius feels quite “balmy”. Besides the fact that deep down a part of me (one I wasn’t quite in touch with yet) wanted to embrace this godforsaken, cold climate of Sweden, where I’d been living, going on two years already. I wanted to be able to say, “I beat the cold! I rode my bike through ice, sleet and snow and lived to tell about it.” 

A week later, just before my winter tires arrived, the temperatures started creeping downward. Then they passed the point of freezing and kept right on going. And it got COLD. The snow began not long after and that continued as well. My lovely, mild, balmy winter was over. Meanwhile, there I was with brand-new, shiny, winter tires... and a promise that I would get on my bike and go. 

The tires arrived safely and my husband put them on our bikes. We won’t talk about our trip to the emergency clinic due to the fact that he nearly took the tip off of one of his fingers off in the process of doing so. (Where the doctor glued his finger together with super glue!) We had our winter tires on our bikes and we were (he was) raring to go. After our first trip out, it was discovered (stated rather clearly by me) that there would not be another outing until I got myself a pair of insulated pants. I nearly froze even with my wool long johns. It was bitingly, numbingly cold. But the problem was not the weather, it was my outerwear. That saying in Sweden, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing?” It is completely and literally true. 

Once all the proper winter gear was assembled, riding my bicycle out in the snow, ice, and freezing, cold temperatures was actually quite fun. Not to mention what a great accomplishment it was for me personally. I had finally embraced the Swedish winter. It took another year to get up the courage to go ice skating on a frozen lake and buy cross-country skis but those adventures are for another day...