adventure to the US

Greg and I went back to the US over Christmas. It had been a year and a half since I was last there. I was wondering if things would seem really different, or if everything would just feel familiar. I think if I had driven a car, that would have felt really strange, but I didn't, so no need to even talk about it.

Here are some things I do feel the need to talk about.

On the flight over, as they were giving people beverages, I asked if they had ginger ale. The response I got was, "No, I'm sorry. But if you want… I can mix you up something." At this point my curiosity is peaked. Am I about to get a treasure chest?! He immediately continues, "Sometimes people like to mix Sprite and Coke, and the Coke sort of makes it taste like ginger ale." Is this guy being serious, because that sounds disgusting. So I decline, and opt for Sprite without any mix-ins, which actually turned out to be 7-Up. And now, fifteen days later, I'm still kicking my non-adventurous self for not just going for it. How could I have passed on an opportunity like that?

Here is another thing. How did I never notice how many people in NH have vanity license plates? They are hugely abundant. And watch out for the one that had 'poodl' in it, because they cut us off twice in one day.

I also had not had so many conversations with strangers in a long time. Previously, I would compare New Englanders to Mid-westerners and consider the New Englanders to be quite reserved. They are the kind of people who are friendly only after you know them. Although… no. That is totally wrong. Chatty chatty people.

Then on the flight back my luggage got lost. One of my biggest regrets was that all of the chocolate I purchased had gone in my checked bag and none in my carry-on. So I went home without my suitcase, with hopes that they would call me within 24 hours to say all was well. And they did! I was really happy about that, and also really happy that I know the Swedish word 'baggage,' while spelled the same, is actually pronounced sort of like the b'gosh of Oshkosh b'gosh.

Bärar fru, anyone?

Swedish class is good for so much more than just learning language. Yesterday Greg learned about the Finnish wife-carrying competition. Let me just say that I feel that this is one of the few athletic competitions that I would be good at (probably because it is the only one where having an athletic husband is all it takes).

Apparently there is a 250 meter track, and the record time is just over a minute. The track also includes a few obstacles, like a water pit and some hurdle-type barricades. And the man just carries his wife on his back and goes as fast as he can. In the photos the wives are usually wearing helmets, which is a little disconcerting, but probably not a bad precautionary measure. That might also be the result of the whole, upside-down, over-the-shoulder carrying technique, which I'm still not totally convinced would work out for me and Greg. I think I might be too long for that. My head would get whacked on all the barricades.

So anyhow. This morning I tried to convince Greg he needed some practice by giving me a piggy-back ride for part of the way to work. Unfortunately, he didn't take the bait, so I had to walk. Maybe tomorrow…