I don't know about you, but lately it seems as though I'm living in perpetual darkness. When I wake up in the morning it's dark. As the day progresses, the sky lightens somewhat to a dirty grey and even if the sun fleetingly appears, it is pale and weak. And by three in the afternoon, it's dark again.

When the greyness of November is over and the Christmas lights are twinkling in the increasing darkness of December, your mind turns to baking - well mine does anyway. I love the traditional buns that are made here for Lucia day (December 13th), the saffron giving them a cheerful golden glow that helps brighten up the darkness. As with many yeast based buns, they are best eaten freshly made on the day you bake them. In these modern times, we can bake them and freeze them as soon as they are cool, taking what we need and zapping them in the microwave to restore their aromatic goodness.

It's not easy to be the apprentice baker around here. I feel the master's presence breathing down my neck (and we all know how good he is!), but despite this I was determined to make the Christmas saffron buns all by myself. Little did I know that the kitchen appliances were plotting my downfall. Paranoid, me???

These buns are easy to make and I've given the recipe before. I was confident as I happily measured out and sifted the flour, ground up the saffron with the sugar and a little alcohol and heated up the milk and butter and crumbled in the fresh yeast. I added the wet ingredients to the flour, switched on my mixer and..... SILENCE. Not a sound. Not a movement of the beaters. I frantically checked the power point, I jiggled it a bit and even threatened it, but all to no avail.

The master baker, hearing my wails came to the kitchen and kindly took over, handmixing and kneading the dough expertly and putting it under a cloth to prove. We then turned our attention to the renegade mixer. We only bought it one year and one week ago! As I said that out loud, I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach - "Oh no, please don't let there be only a one year guarantee!" I howled (yes, I'm a real drama queen). And where were all of the guarantees, anyway? I hadn't seen them since we moved. Fortunately my cool headed Swede went to the desk drawer and in a jiffy was back with the TWO year guarantee! While he rang the shop we bought it from in Nynäshamn to check their return policy, I rolled the buns into their lusse-shapes, added the raisins and left them to prove a second time.




It seems that there was good news and bad news. The good news was that yes, we could return it. The bad news was twofold - we had to return it to the Nynäshamn branch of the shopping chain (I hate you, Konsum!) and that they no longer sold them, so we had to just get a refund. We are going up that way for Christmas, so we can get the money and leave the machine. But that leaves me mixmasterless. This was a pain because it took me a while to find the machine I liked and I wasn't looking forward to searching all over again.

But search we did, thanks to the internet! While the buns proved, we looked at what was available at the appliance shops in Sweden and I finally decided to get this Bosch machine. It was a similar price to the machine I was returning and would seem to be of a similar size. So we searched for the best price and found it in a tiny electrical shop in Borensberg, a small town nearby. While Lars-Göran rang them, I ducked into the kitchen, brushed the buns with beaten egg and popped them into the oven to bake.




Good news. They had one mixer in stock! So I mentioned that we could pick it up in the morning. I had read about two Christmas markets at Brunneby and Skänninge, so it would work in really well as Borensberg is near both of these towns. We'd have to get going early to go first to Motala for an errand, then to get the mixer and after have the day to mooch around the markets. Before he could object, the oven timer rang - saved by the bell yet again! *runs quickly to the kitchen*




Hmmmm..... fresh saffron buns that we just couldn't resist sampling. Despite the earlier panic, they were light, fluffy and so, so delicious. But I was very good, sharing only the one with Lars-Göran and cooling the rest and putting them in the freezer all ready to enjoy in the coming week.

Coming as I do from Australia, I'm very much a warm weather person, so it is somewhat cruel that fate sent me a man from a country where reindeer roam free and Santa spends the off season.

Today, I'm celebrating the anniversary of my arriving here seven years ago on a dark, cold, grey, misty and blustery winter's day.




When I left Adelaide back then, I remember wondering about how cold it would be in Sweden, though it was low on my list of prioities, as I was filled with both relief at getting everything done in time and anxiety for relocating to the great mostly unknown. It has been an interesting seven years with something new nearly every day.

Relocating from say Adelaide to Melbourne isn't the same as expatriating to a place where everything including the language is utterly different from anything you've experienced before. It's a radical change even when you know what to expect. I hadn't had time to prepare myself for most of the issues that face expats and it was at least a year of difficult times and difficult language classes.

As the wind howled and whistled through the bedroom window that first night, I started to wonder why I couldn't have fallen in love with someone from the Maldives or Fiji. :) We spent the next six months moving to Nynäshamn, buying the boat, renovating the old boat for selling and taking Swedish language classes, so I didn't really have a lot of time to ponder the depths of the insanity of moving to Sweden until midsummer and by then I found that I had grown quite fond of this small corner of the Nordic lands.

I don't really have any words of wisdom or insight on being an expat because I have seen that nearly everyone has a different experience. Adjusting to Sweden has been difficult at times and easy at other times, but it hasn't been dull. You can prepare yourself for the larger obstacles, such as the language barrier, but the little things like not finding peanut paste or vanilla essence where you expect to find it in the supermarket are what will send you into bouts of petty despair. The dark, foggy days of November sneak up on you when you aren't looking, too. It has been a few years of challenge and adjustment but I am now at the stage where Sweden has become as familiar and comfortable as home. I do still enjoy the newness of everything which people don't get the opportunity to enjoy very often in life, especially now that world is becoming a smaller, more familiar landscape all the time.

Lately I've seen a lot of the use of the word "expat" to mean people who move from one country to another. When I first saw the word, 10 years or so ago, I thought it was just a word for an immigrant/emigrant. Nowadays I see it used a lot by Americans here, and the usage seems to have differentiated from "immigrant": the people who came from the third world to the civilised world tend to be called immigrants and the people who move from one civilised country to another tend to be called expats.

Does the word "immigrant" have so many negative connotations now that people need to find another word for "nice immigrants"? Or is there something else at work here? Historically, this is not that case: expatriates were considered to be people who had formally renounced citizenship in their native country. So why do we refer to ourselves as an expats instead of emigrés or immigrants?

Expat, is a bit of a funny word. It conjures pictures of embassy cocktail parties and the international jet set which, I can assure you, is not at all what 99.9% of expats might experience. I'm not even sure if I have a dress and a pair of suitable high heels for cocktails at Fortress Australia in Sergels Torg (aka Aust. Embassy) if they had parties. The quaint idea of expatriate life being a high society affair has in reality been replaced with armed guards, locked doors and a grimace. I'll hazard a guess that the word expat, given the grim reality vs. the lofty image, will gradually change towards a less romantic notion when used to describe someone who relocates to another country.

So then there's immigrant. It evokes the image of the Titanic full of Irish peasants jumping around in the hold or a group of Mexicans sneaking across the US border into a country where they can get paid $1 an hour so people can buy cheap produce. The romantic age of immigrants has long since past. When Australians speak of their ancestors, they don't say that Grandpa who came out from Greece was an expat, they say Grandpa was an immigrant. I don't think that people are forced to be immigrants as that would make them refugees. It's certainly a puzzle.




Anyway, whatever I am, I think Lars-Göran is happy to have me here. Today he came home with this pretty flower arrangement that really went a long way to describing how I feel. It was an Amaryllis, the typical Swedish Christmas flower, wedded with Australian greenery in the form of the characteristic rounded leaves of the juvenile snow gum. All intertwined with a silver thread. It spoke volumes to me - I'm looking forward to the next seven years to see what it will bring.

I like the season of Advent.

It's like a candle lit in the darkness. A reminder that there's still light, love, hope.

It's this feeling you've got while anticipating something good and beautiful. It isn't there yet, it hasn't come - but you already know it's there. And you know it will eventually come. And it does not matter anymore when or how. It will come.

It's about everything you ever wanted to know.




Our first Sunday of Advent was spent in Stockholm this year. We took Annelie home and visited Lars-Göran's son and fiancé in their new apartment in the northern suburbs. It's a lovely, spacious ground floor flat with an outside patio area, ideal for their dear little Jack Russel, Milou. Emilie had decorated for Advent, with paper stars, advent candles, which created a beautiful, restful, homelike feeling. She had also made Lars-Göran's favourite frozen cheesecake, which brought a big smile to his face.

We then went to my mother-in-law's apartment to help her set up her advent decorations, which took nearly the entire evening as she has a lot of different bits and pieces to put up - electrical lights, stars, Advent plants, ornaments, curtains, candles, doilies and table linen. Naturally FOUR of the advent lights (similar to this) didn't work, so we'll pop out and get replacements for her in the morning.

When it was all done, we toasted the Advent with hot mulled wine and slices of panettone before falling gratefully into bed.

Now the real countdown to Christmas can begin in earnest!

After the disappointment of last Saturday's Motala markets, I was hoping that the ones here in Vadstena would make up for it. I'd read a little about it all being styled on the old medieval markets and that it was held indoors at the castle. The weekend had seen busloads of people descend on the town, so I was guessing that it must have been worthwhile to make the trip.

We set off bright and early (well, for us, anyway!) and made our way across town towards the castle. On the way, I stopped by my new hairdresser to make an appointment for a hair cut and colour for Christmas week. Better to do it as we were passing or I'd totally forget until it was too late.




Isn't it a cute building? It dates from the seventeenth century and used to be the stables attached to a blacksmith's workshop behind. While it is modern and well appointed inside, it still retains the air of being quite historical and it is typical of the way the town has managed to maintain the look and feel of a meddieval town, but still provide the modern comforts that we crave. I like the way they marry the two concepts so seamlessly.

The little errand done, we crossed the road, passed by the library (housed in the old mental asylum!) and across to the park adjacent to the castle. It was a bright, clear cold winter's day and everything looked clear and well defined in the clear winter chill. That blue sky makes all of the difference! I was quite pleased to see that there was only one coach in the car park, which gave me hope that it would not be too crowded inside.




The markets I've been to in the past are usually only for a couple of days. Well, that's not strictly true, as the ones in Stockholm at Gamla Stan and Skansen go for several weeks. But generally, the ones at towns and suburbs are only a one or two day affair. That this one is open for 10 days makes me curious to see it. We went into the largely deserted courtyard and while L-G answered the call of nature, I warmed myself by the open brazier - and lovely and toasty warm it was, too.




We bought our tickets and decided to start with the main castle first, where we saw that handicrafts were on display on the first two floors. The main hall (the Great Hall) and the banqueting rooms had been cleared of their usual furniture to house the market, though several of the tapestries still hung on the walls, with the colours and details still strong after 450 years. This one depicts the bloodline of thew royal family responsible for the castle being built. Despite what the wikipedia article in English says, the castle was built not to protect Stockholm (which is hundreds of miles away!) but as a show of strength to keep the unruly population of this area in control.




Today, kit's very peaceful in the area, so the castle is strictly a tourist attraction as well as being used in summer for Opera performances, large scale concerts and the winter Christmas markets. There were quite a few people inside, but it was not crushing and I was able to wander around in relative peace and look at the items on sale. There was a lovely range of goods to suit all tastes. The rough, whitewashed stone walls were an ideal backdrop to the markets.




Those cute little hairy figures (tomtar) in the foreground are very typical Swedish decorations for hristmas and I bought a few to enclose in a package I'm assembling to send to Lars-Göran's eldest daughter who is spending her first Christmas away from Sweden. She'll be in Kenya and I'm guessing she'll be very homesick come Christmas time, so a parcel of goodies from Sweden will be very welcome, I'm sure.




These lovely fresh wreaths also caught my eye. The fragrance of pine was beautiful and each of the wreaths was different. The woman also had plain wreaths as well, with a selection of decorations that you could buy and either do it yourself or ask her to decorate an individual one in your taste to pick up later. I was tempted, but I've just bought a beautiful wreath in autumnal tones from a shop in Linköping, so I couldn't really justify a second one. I mean how would I sneak it home?




As we made our way to the rooms upstairs, we passed the casement windows, which were decorated with traditional straw decorations. These are mostly made of rye straw, decorated with red ribbon and often served a dual purpose, especially if placed outside. As well as being decorative, they could supplement the meagre winter diet of some of the tiny birds that winter here in this harsh climate. These ones however were on the inside and they sparkled with a golden glow in the sunshine.




The upstairs area with the banqueting halls and other state rooms would usually be furnished with paintings and period furniture as you see here. The castles I've seen in Sweden remind me a lot of Scottish castles. They don't have the prettiness and fine wall coverings etc that you find in a place like Versailles or even some of the English castles which are more like pleasure palaces. Here in the north, they are rougher in the interiors, much more sparsely furnished and austere - a reminder that they were foremost fortresses.




I had to have a picture of this stall, which reads "L-G's Hobby & Träslöjd" (L-G's Hobby & Wooden Handcrafts). Who knew he was moonlighting on the side :) Actually, this stall had a beautiful array of hand made wooden toys and decorative as well as household items. There were also stalls selling straw decorations, hand painted glass ornaments, hand sewn and knitted items, clothing, lace, leather goods, sheepskin boots, handmade tomtar, gorgeous hand-dipped candles shaped like a crown. It was a market full of great things and I wandered around happily watching the craftsmen at work and buying here and there.

My only slight criticism is that I found the sellers a little pushy. As soon as you stood in front of an item, many of them began the "hard sell" patter that I so loathe, so I was scared off showing an interest in anything.




The upper floors housing the chapel and queen's chambers were closed to the public, but there were several sketches on the stairwells, depicting the castle at various stages in history. It has altered considerably from the original design, and even from a relatively "recent" picture such as this one from the early 1900s. The castle is right on the shore, which means that the park surrounding it and the whole harbour area has been added sometime in the twentieth century.




Being indoors meant that we were protected from the elements, although today was a beautiful winter's day. Imagine if it was raining or snowing? How much nicer to be inside looking out at the weather. Most people stuck to the main rooms, so I was able to grab a little peace and quiet just sitting in the window casements on the stairwell like a contented cat and look out at our new town. A brief respite was perfect to rest my feet and think about what to buy at the produce area, which was housed in a separate section in the castle's western moat walls.




What an absolute feast for the senses! Now THIS is what Christmas markets are all about. My first priority was the parcel to Kenya, so I looked for interesting flavoured "rock" lollies from the nearby town of Gränna. I found violet and liquorice as well as toffeed almonds, locally made julmust, mustard, hardbread and other goodies that a Swede would miss from home.

There were big wheels of cheese, locally made sausages and other smallgoods, aromatic herbs, oils and vinegars, baked goods, warm mulled wine and cordials, smoked fish, smoked reindeer, jams, gift baskets, lollies, cards, wrapping paper - in fact all you could possibly need to make up your christmas table.




We went around sampling the offerings and buying bread (a traditional vört bread, a saffron bread and a rye bread), sipping mulled wine, nibbling on the toffeed almonds and finally pigging out at the stall selling dried friut and other nibbly stuff. We loaded up with wasabi snacks, chilli sticks, mexican rice crackers - hey I even bought a local smoked fish. It's called sik, which translates as lavaret, which is apparently a a species of freshwater fish in the salmon family. I have no idea how to serve it, but I'm sure I'll find a way. Google Sverige, here I come.




By now we were fully laden with parcels and feeling well pleased with our haul, except that there were no straw pigs! I can't understand it - you are literally falling over them at the markets I've been to in Stockholm. Maybe they are only a Stockholm thing, though I've seen them pictured on flyers for the markets here. Come on, little straw piggies, come out from hiding. I promise I'm not the big, bad wolf.

The wind came up in the night. Strong. Cold. The dead leaves of autumn fly ahead of it. The bare branches of the willows and the maples and the aspens protest it. The temperature drops all day, pushing toward the single digits. During the night, the rain has ceased, the low clouds blown away and dispersed by a whipping south-east wind. The day was bright, clear and the morning was pierced by a chorus of bird-song.





It was the sounds of these birds which woke me and I went to the kitchen window on the lee side of the house and leaned on the sill to watch the tiny redpolls (gråsiska or Carduelis flammea at play. I breathed in the damp, mossy-scented air and looked up to see a couple of thrushes carolling away in the birch tree, adding to the scene and enveloped in the sweet mistiness of a perfect autumn morning. What a lovely place this is to wake up in.






It was a day when Mother Nature beckoned and tempted me to go out. It’s cool this morning and really windy, windy enough to whip your pants legs, tumble leaves along the beach, to make you keep your hands in your pockets and to lean slightly into it on the way back.




It's so wonderful to make you way through the maze of cobblestoned lanes and little unexpected squares towards the open shores of the lake. From quite a distance away, you could hear the sound of the breakers crashing on the shore and feel the wind as it plucked at your clothes and blew your hair into disorder.




High above, the clouds parted for an instant and a weak, watery gleam of sunshine broke through. The damp streets threw back the reflection of this light and the stone and slate were washed in gold. The sunlight disappeared as swiftly as it had come and all was grey again. But the wind remained, blowing intensely and sending cascades of spray into the air.




The picture shows a wild wind-driven sea crashing over the rocks at the southern end of the bay. I was balancing on the slippery rocks right at the edge of the surging sea with waves breaking on either side and at my feet, an exhilarating, exciting and noisy place to be.




As well as the wind and spray, it was so interesting to see the wind blowing gusts of sunshine and shadows across the water, with clouds rapidly forming then dispersing to reveal glimpses of an eggshell-blue sky. The streets, the park and the foreshore are quite deserted, the hordes of summer tourists having long departed and the locals electing to stay behind closed doors.




The power of wind and water was quite mesmerising and as the waves crashed into the seawall, it was the water itself which drew my attention. Yes, it was blue, but it was made up of thousands of different hues and I could see how difficult it would be to paint the scene. With a camera and a little luck, you could capture the instant and perhaps the colours. Or could you?




No, it wasn't possible. What you can't see is that towards the sandy shore where it was shallow and translucent, the water was almost a jade-green streaked with aquamarine. Over towards the rocks and seaweed, it darkened to indigo, while far out where a small fishing boat bucketed its way across the waves towards the lighthouse, it became a deep Prussian blue. It was as though the water lived and breathed, while it swelled and formed waves which themselves resembled moving sculptures of green glass.




I just love the green glow of sunlight through the waves and the spray dancing on top of them. Though of course, my enjoyment comes from being the observor, standing in safety on solid ground. I am so happy to not be out on the boat in such conditions!

Now home for a warm drink, I think.

Yesterday when I woke up, I saw that most of Saturday's snow had melted again and been replaced by hazy rain. But brief though it was, the snow certainly had put me in the mood for Christmas - for baking, wearing warm socks, sipping hot tea and mulled wine and spending cosy evenings curled up in my favourite chair - and of course, going to Christmas markets with their assorted piggies.

Pigs seem to be everywhere for the Christmas season in Sweden; pig motifs on cards, table linen, aprons, wrapping paper, gingerbread biscuits shaped like pigs, piggy marzipan cakes, straw pigs, big pork hams for the traditional meal, etc. It's all rather macabre really, since poor old Wilbur is not only cute and pink, but he's also firmly on the menu.

I had thought that Sweden would be all about the reindeer motif (which ironically is the most common in the Australia), since they seem to have a lot of them in Lappland. But I suppose it would traumatise kids here too much if they thought that Santa served up the reindeer after they had hauled him around the globe in one night. It sounds like the sort of thing that Amundsen did with his doggies. And we all know how that traumatised me forty years ago.




This year I'm on a mission to buy a couple of straw pigs for someone. Which is a great excuse to loiter around and study them at my leisure. Lars-Göran can't hurry me on or roll his eyes as I'm researching, aren't I? I mean, I have to make sure it is cute, don't I? And who can stop at one. I've never hear a story about one pig. The familiar fairytale talks about the Three Little Pigs. So I have to get three - one for you and two for me sounds fair. Oh wait! What about the rhyme my mum used to do with my toes - there were FIVE pigs in that one, beginning with "This little piggy went to market...."


Can you tell that I was really excited before we left for Motala. Despite the overcast weather and the constant drizzle, I was happily looking forward to reliving some of my previous market experiences. The pictures I had in mind were similar to these ones. And that was reinforced by the blurb I read on their website:

"Stämningsfull julmarknad på torget och i hamnen med mycket marschaller och glöggservering." (basically, a Christmas market in the square and harbour, full of atmosphere with lots of welcoming candles and mulled wine). So I got a very unwelcome shock when the market turned out to look like this:




No atmosphere, no charm and worst of all - no straw pigs! How could that be? I had a bad feeling when I saw that the first stall sold mammoth crocs. And that was the highlight - things went radidly downhill from there. I walked around the dozen or so hastily erected stalls with a sinking heart. The unexciting offerings included a stall selling scrubbing brushes and baskets, another selling lottery tickets, one selling lucky dips, a Dunkin' Donuts caravan, a "Piss-Weak World" style Chocolate Wheel, a lolly stall with generic sweets you can buy anywhere, a bric-a-brac stall, a florist selling door wreaths etc. I was nearly in tears with disappointment.

Where were the Christmas goodies, the smell of hot sugared almonds and warm mulled wine mixed with spruce and straw? Where were the stalls selling ornaments, sweets, smoked meats, fish, cheese, mustards, jams, cordials, bread and buns? Where were the handcrafts - wrought iron candlestick holders, glass decorations, straw goats and pigs, cards, hats and gloves? It was very quiet in the car all the way home. I'll be crossing this off my list of things to do in future.


I did however cheer up later in the day when I heard that an Australian (Dave Downey) had won the world Santa competitions being held as part of the Snoyran Games at Gällivare in the north of Sweden. I laughed when I read that when he was asked how he practices, Mr Downey replied: "Kangaroos, sheep, porridge eating, of course, the usual Santa activities. It's just a bit harder in the heat that's all." Go Dave, you show them!

At least we still have our own Vadstena markets to look forward to. They are advertises as Gammeljul (Old Christmas) and is held in the majestic renaissance castle on the shore of the lake. In the afternoon, we went for a walk in town and passed one of the castle entrances.




They've decorated it with boughs of freshly cut spruce interspersed with pretty, soft white lights. Two floors of the castle are lit up and it is here the handcraft markets are held, with foodstuffs being sold on the other side inside the castle walls and a medieval style market in the main courtyard. It was closing time (4pm), so people had dispersed, but we had a little peep in the courtyard ehrough the late afternoon gloom.




People were leaving, laughing and chatting away, laden with bags. It's a good sign that there is at least something worth looking at inside. We talked about trying to come down on Tuesday for a good look at what is on offer. As well as the little pigs, I need something to send to Madde in Africa to remind her of Christmas at home.

We looked at this morning's paper and saw that they raved about the Motala market (Swedish only), which begs the question, exactly where were they reporting from? Surely not from the same place we were!

This morning we woke up to one of those magical winter days of bitter cold, frost and pale, cloudless skies. The sun shone, sending long shadows, but there was little warmth in its rays as the iceman had truly come. Outside of the kitchen window lay a white, white world with the leafless trees looking like black lace against that pale sky.




It was far too beautiful a day to languish inside, so we determined to rug up well against the biting chill and go out walking around the town and seeing what it was like in the snow. We were very fortunate as well to see this little fellow fly in and sit on a branch of the birch tree nearest our window, feeding on tidbits and trying to keep warm. He's a gorgeous bullfinch (domherre) and was a very welcome addition to our breakfast scene.




I've never seen one of them in the flesh before, though they are very common motifs on Christmas decorations in Sweden. And you can see why - they are instantly recognisable with their bright pinkish-red breast and cheeks, grey back and black cap and tail. Such a cheerful, busy little bird! I find watching birds out of my window to be really fascinating and so calming. It always brings a smile to my face and can banish any winter blue feelings instantly.

By the time we set off, some of the snow was melting, especially on the roads where passing cars created friction with their studded winter tyres. It made the conditions slippery and icy in places, but I had my halkskydd with me in case it was too slippery out. If it wasn't for them, I'm sure I would have broken my neck by now. We walked briskly towards the old railway station, near the castle.




The Christmas markets were in full swing today and the car park at the castle was absolutely jam packed with tour buses. A kind reader had already emailed me and warned me about the crush there on a weekend, so we determined to go during the week sometime when things are possibly a little quieter. For now, we stayed on this side of the moat and instead went and looked through a few of the smaller shops which were open for trade. My favourite was this lovely gallery called Frukthem.




There was an exhibition of work by local artists and illustrators Johan & Cathrin Hesselstrand. Their work was all inspired by Vadstena and the surrounding area and we both spent quite some time browsing around the gallery. I was particularly drawn to Cathrin's work. My favourite was a stunning view of the castle on a deep, dark, star filled winter night. There was snow all around, the moat was deep frozen and the lone figure of tomte was pulling his sled along the front of the building. It was beautiful and quite arresting. Lars-Göran was more drawn to the summer views of the streets with the rich, warm colours and the leafy vegetation. We are thinking about getting one of them, but in the meantime, I bought some of their Christmas cards with local scenes from Vadstena on them.

We wandered through the antique shop and handwork gallery near the old silos, then walked along the eastern part of the castle moat.




Feel free to click on the picture and see the lovely panorama shot Lars-Göran took of this stately building. Vadstena Castle was built by King Gustav Vasa in 1545 as a fortress and it has that sort of look, doesn't it? It was used as a royal palace until 1716 and another day I'll talk a bit more about what it is like inside. One interesting bit of gossip about the moat is the number of cars that must be fished out of there every year. Swedes are not so used to using handbrakes and the ground around the moat slopes, so scenes like this happen a half a dozen times a year. It makes me nervous about mooring my boat there in future.




But for now we looked at the moat, slowly turning to ice and then turned towards the main street of the town, which lies beyond the castle's gardens. The mood in centrum was busy and buoyant. The shops seemed to be doing a brisk trade, there were people out enjoying the fresh air, window shopping, greeting friends and the small coffee houses and restaurants were full of happy diners.




We stopped at the gallery and looked at some prints, browsed in the newsagent, checked out the window display of the fabulous little gourmet kitchenware shop Kopp & Kanna, the irresistible kids' clothes in Krusbär and went in to the equivalent of an Italian continental deli to savour the food delights. I loved looking at all of the cheeses, pastas, condiments and I couldn't resist buying a lovely Christmas panettone,which we are going to gobble down happily on Christmas day. I just love panettone!

I was looking out for some pointsettias to buy but didn't see any, so I'll wait until next week. I looked with longing at the beautiful straw deers in the florist window and at the colourful amaryllis flowers. I must get a bulb to grow again this year. One window sign in the local costume jewellery shop made me laugh:




The sign reads "Everything in the window 100kr" (that's about $18). Which was funny because there was nothing in the window! We chuckled to ourselves and kept walking along the street to the red tower and then turned towards home, where a nice warming cup of coffee and slice of bun awaited us.

Tomorrow we are off to Motala for their Christmas markets. I admit that I'm really excited as I am anxious to get Christmas on the road this year. I've been to the markets at Nynäshamn, Utö and in Stockholm, so I'm wondering how this one will compare to those ones. With the markets at Vadstena being so big, I'm thinking that Motala, which is ten times the size of our little town ought to have something really special. And only one more sleep.....