A wrong call and the next 10 minutes

"Hej, det är Lisa..."

I'm sure that is not the proper way to answer my phone in Swedish, but that is my American-English-translated-into-Swedish greeting and it has become automatic—proper or not.

"Umm, hallå. Det är ________ och jag har jobba i Tumba....<<undecipherable Swedish mumbling>>... (long awkward PAUSE)"

My mind is racing and all of these thoughts ping through my brain like the small white ball in a pinball machine. Ding ding ding.

He must be waiting for my response. Oh shit, I didn't catch his name or who he works with. Where is Tumba? Isn't that south of Stockholm? Why is someone from Tumba calling me? This has nothing to do with the kids because I would recognize their doctor's name. No...this may be someone calling for our house? I don't know. Someone always seems to be calling about our house, asking for money. Does this guy want money?! We don't have any. Should I hang up now? The pinball machine ball stops pinging around for a second.

"Förlåt, jag kan prata lite svenska, kan vi prata med engelska nu?" This should nip it in the bud. He'll switch to English once he learns I can't speak any Swedish...

...he continues in rapid-fire Swedish

"<<more Swedish words I don't recognize>> kompaniet....bolaget...(long pause)"

Is it my turn to speak again? Jeez! I have no idea what this guy is talking about. I'm registered as a sole-trader so maybe he has a business question? I don't know how bolaget has anything to do with this conversation. Gah, I wish I understood more Swedish. Normally they switch over into English by now but this guy won't quit.

"Förlåt, jag förstår inte." I'm sorry, I don't understand.

"Uhhh, hejdå..." Umm, goodbye.

The call ends and the hang-up is weird. I wasn't sure what had happened. Did he really need to talk to me and just gave up because I couldn't understand his Swedish? Ahh, screw it. This chick can't figure it out. Let's give the post-card lottery to another lucky winner. Or was it a misdial? I needed to figure this out. I CAN do this. I will!

With a flash of renewed enthusiasm and perhaps too much desire to right this wrong, I open up Google Translate and type in all of the words I think I heard during our very weird interaction. I reverse Google his phone number—yes, he has a business of two people in Tumba, doing what I'm not sure. The business name is generic and uninformative. No clues there. Moving on.

I type the equivalent of, "So sorry, my Swedish is horrible. You called me before and now I am prepared to answer your questions." into Google Translate. With my fingers poised over the empty Google Translate box, they are ready to translate our conversation as it happens. My fingers will attempt to transcribe the conversation so that I can keep up with it real-time. I am NOT an idiot. Technology will save the day!

As I press redial, I'm already smug. I was caught off-guard before but now I'm set. I have a tool at my fingertips and I practiced my little apologetic phrase twice. I even improved on the inflections provided by the Google Translate robotic voice. Easy peasy.

"Hej, jag är Lisa Ferland. Du ringde mig? Jag förståd inte innan men hur kan jag hjalpa dig nu?"

"Oy, nej. Det är okej. Jag ringde fel."  --- Oh no. It's okay. I called the wrong phone number.

And that, my friends, is how someone wastes 10 minutes trying to decipher all of the communication during a simple "Oops! Wrong number!" phone conversation.

Raising the stakes to learn Swedish

The Background
After living in Sweden for 2.5 years, we've attended classes, had a private tutor and bought Rosetta Stone and yet we still haven't greatly improved in our understanding of the Swedish language. It is not so much of an inability to learn as it is a lack of proper motivation. My job is entirely in English and I work from home, so I'm somewhat isolated. Jon works entirely in English and has some coworkers who are willing to have fika time in Swedish, but it isn't helping nearly enough. Jon's parental leave is beginning at the end of this week and we both decided that it was time to set aside dedicated language time each day. This is Jon's greatest opportunity to learn the language and if we don't commit, we will only continue to slowly struggle.

The Issue
One of the biggest motivating factors is Calvin. He is truly bilingual and can consciously switch between Swedish and English if we ask him. I wouldn't say we can count on him as our main translator as he has led us astray in the past - he's a practical jokester already - and also because he is 3 years old. We are responsible for our own integration. Our neighbors have told us that he speaks perfect Swedish when we aren't around but when we are present, his Swedish declines and he speaks in English. We don't want to be in a position where we are negatively affecting his social skills with his peers. We want him to be able to play and invite friends over to our house. It is a major issue if we can't communicate with his friends. We don't want to be the limiting factor here. That's not fair to Calvin.

Raising the stakes
So, to really buckle down, Jon set a bet. We will be using the free online program, Memrise, and their handy iPhone app, to set daily competitions. The program awards points depending on how accurately and quickly you respond to reading and writing comprehension of a vocabulary set. Whoever has the least number of points awarded during their 30 min study session will have to do the laundry that day. We can practice in addition to those 30 minutes but only that session will be scored and will determine the winner and loser. Believe me, our house has a lot of laundry so this is truly a motivating factor.

So when you see us using a lot more Swedish on Facebook and in emails and texts, it is because I really don't want to do the laundry anymore and Jon is trying his best to beat me. BRING IT ON!

Just call me the new cleaning lady

Busted lady!

You know when you get caught speeding how you have that moment of utter and sheer panic?  You know that you should've slowed down, driven more carefully and been a better driver overall. You sit there on the side of the road just wishing and praying against all odds that he'll let you off with just a warning.  Just this time, Officer, really, I didn't mean it.  "I promise. I'll be better next time."  And for a while, you actually do drive more safely.  That is...until you forget that speeding ticket and its associated humiliation (and cost) and you decide that it's not that big of a deal, really.

Well for me, that speeding ticket is the equivalent to cleaning my house.  When we moved a few weeks ago, I decided to take on the task of, essentially detailing, our 1500 square foot house.  I thought, "It'll be easy!  All of the furniture is out of the way and Jon will take Bessie and Calvin to the new house."  Nope.  As it turns out, the Cleaning Police pulled me over and whacked me a huge ticket.  "Gotta do your time Missy. This place is a wreck!"

Admittedly, Jon and I aren't the cleanest people on the planet. I would always joke that I was doing my part to ensure Calvin didn't develop allergies from living in a sterile environment.  When we moved into the house, it was gorgeous. Not a dog hair in sight (they owned a dog as well), and everything was sparkly-like new.  In order for us to get our deposit back, and one can say I am extremely motivated by money, I had to leave things as they had left it with some minor wear and tear allowable.

Time to pay the piper.  For all of the times I ignored the slightly overflowing floor drain in the shower -- now it was time to clean it out.  I cursed myself for my long hairstyle as I proceeded to yank out soap scummed long hair from the drain.  It was gross.  Grosser than you could imagine.  And it smelled too.  Double gross.   I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing until my knuckles went raw, on an actually hot day in Sweden (what are the odds??), AND 7 months pregnant.  Not my favorite moment and not one I want to repeat anytime soon.

About 4 hours into the deep cleaning session, I seriously contemplated calling a cleaning service and paying them to do it all.  All of a sudden $250 was sounding pretty cheap compared to what I was doing.

Fortunately, I had already cleaned out the oven, refrigerator and kitchen cabinets -- everywhere stubborn stains and stuck on grease like to hang out.  Unfortunately, I still had the rest of the house to complete, floors to mop, and gross shower drains to empty.  What was I thinking?  Oh, that's right. I was trying to keep our moving expenses as small as possible.  I scrubbed that house inside and out from 7:30am-4pm, non-stop.  I also didn't have any lunch because we had removed all of the food for the move.  My hunger, back ache and raw hands from the various cleaning products was my motivation to finish the job already.

Now that we are at the new house, I definitely have the mindset of the I-just-received-a-speeding-ticket-so-I'll-drive-like-a-saint-for-FOREVER.  I'm vacuuming regularly, cleaning the bathroom once a week and trying to keep the kitchen as neat and tidy as possible at all times. Nothing on the counters, Jonathan! 

We'll see how long this lasts. I predict I'll be back up to the equivalent of 10mph above the speed limit -- leaving dishes in the sink over night, not taking out the trash regularly -- that kind of thing.  But for now - my house is CLEAN!