The Silver Age

One thing, among some many others would say my wonderful Swedish boyfriend, about my life in Sweden I would never get used to is the lack of light in winter.

One could think that born and raised in the far north east of France I would be used to it, but nope. 

My home town can be very cold in winter but it is usually a dry cold with blue sky and light. And even if there is, of course, some grey days or even grey and humid winters, being more south of Europe means one can still see daylight until 5 in the afternoon. 

These few hours more of daylight are missing, cruelly missing.

So I have adopted some of the local traditions : the vitamin D cure, the lights and candles inside and outside the house, the fika, the sunflower position at the window, in the street, at the café - well to be honest, pretty much everywhere -  every time a ray of sun is finally showing up. If my boyfriend was not also dad of some teenager and reluctant to travel, I would be certainly now on a beach somewhere in Thailand or Indonesia. Another Swedish tradition : fly away from Sweden in winter to take ones big share of sun to survive until spring.

It is not working. 

I am feeling as joyful and energetic as an hibernating groundhog and too much fika means I am taking weight. A lot of weight. 

I should certainly adopt another Swedish tradition as soon as Christmas holidays are over : the back to gym to cultivate a summer body as well as elevate dopamine level. The subscription offers are all over my mailbox. Each time I am opening Instagram, some stories arise about Asian Pilates, weight loss app or any other pills to correct my damned cortisol level.

It is not working. 

I am not enlisted in any gym nor in any "Pilates at home with no tools" app and of course do not take any miraculous complements to help my menopausal state. 

I am waiting for this special trigger that will motivate me to do something. It is not coming and I have no motivation and that is all the fault of Swedish winter. 

Of course, it is not. Not completely. The lack of light and sun still has an undeniable effect on the mood and energy but it is not the unique root of my procrastination or my lack of motivation for any social events, for reading, for writing, for running... I am currently drained, drained by my job, drained by some parts of my personal life and if I have not found yet the way out, I am working on it. 

I am drinking coffee and baking. I am also back to doing puzzle and try to keep on reading. And I have sessions with a therapist. Well I had sessions with a therapist. Lately, I felt so drained that I could not even maintain this... it was too much to handle. 

So I decided to push myself to write here again, with my laptop in front of the window like if I was Carrie Bradshaw. Except that my window is not in New York and that I do not have her closet.
Maybe should I say I am back to writing following Garance Doré in her Subtask The French Woman about love, style and life ? 
Writing like I am back to the beginnings of blogging when one could open a blog and just write about everything and nothing without searching any fame or influence retribution but just the pleasure to share some thoughts, ideas, experience and eventually get a bonus to be read and seen. 
And writing this just now, I am wondering if behind any blog or subtask account there is a frustrated writer that craves to be recognized and earn an easy living from their writing... meaning am i a frustrated writer craving for recognition while scrolling on influencers accounts on Instagram or reading numerous Subtask accounts wondering why I could not do the same ? 

This answer is : it is all the fault of Swedish winter. 

Voila.

After a very stupid work accident, I found myself with the obligation to go for a hand surgery to repair a torn tendon in the left thumb.

Nothing to be scared of, really.
Until the moment the surgeon told me I would be off work for 3 weeks. 

I panicked. 

I began to list all tasks I would have to hand over and began to feel guilty towards my colleagues who would have to take in charge an overload of work during my sick leave.

I tried to find good reasons not to go for surgery beginning by "I think it is getting better" (only in my head though) and finishing by "There is not warranty it will get better with surgery" (who was I thinking to fool apart from myself ?).
Ultimately, the date for surgery was fixed and I could not postpone nor cancel it, my sambo was there to make sure I will do it (can I love him more than I already do ?). 

If the surgery went smoothly and almost unpainfully, it is when I looked at the bandage my left hand was in for 2 weeks that I began to feel the torments of restlessness. What was I supposed to do with this voluminous mitten that made my left hand looked like a Playmobil or Lego figurine one ? The surgeon had THE magic answer : do nothing, absolutely nothing, take this time to rest and let your hand heal. 

I should have thought that it was the perfect time to finally read all the books I have been buying awaiting the perfect time off aka holidays, to go for some walks followed by long naps to restore some healthy routine, to go back to writing, to have long conversations with friends and family about everything and nothing, to binge watch the latest tv shows on Netflix or HBO, to prepare lists of to do and to see for our next summer vacation... That is already quite a list for someone supposed to do nothing and yet, the only thing I could focus on was the one I would not be able to do, WORK. 

The two first days post surgery were a living nightmare for me, for my sambo, for anyone coming around. I was clueless on doing nothing. I was in perpetual movement, or more precisely in a permanent state of searching something to do that was not lying on the bed or on the couch enjoying the joy of doing nothing for the first time in a very long time. 

I was missing WORK. 

Family and friends were in total misunderstanding and reminded me what was my work in retail : long hours on shop floor or in stock room, being most of the time on my feet and in movement, the headaches due to the permanent electric light and the background music of both the store and mall, the exhaustion. And going deeper, my own feeling of not being quite enough for the job, of becoming too old to handle it and ultimately not finding any sense in what I am doing. 

After a few days, my body took the lead and decided all by himself that nap was a good activity for him and I found myself sleeping on my laptop or on a book sometimes for hours. Of course, waking up I was feeling guilty and could not help checking some work news. It wad a bad, very bad idea. I then disconnected myself completely from all work related social media and began slowly but surely to really do NOTHING. I tamed the sick leave to begin to reflect on why working was so important for me. I do not talk here about the importance of having a pay and being independent even if it plays some role. No, I am really talking about feeling recognized and useful. And yes, I am working in retail. And yes, even if retail industry can argue about clothes being a necessity, I truly do not think the world needs that we are consuming that insane quantity of clothes each year. 

Why would I feel then so bad not to work ? Why would I feel I am somehow taking advantage of the situation ? (and looking at my Lego figurine hand, what advantage could it be, seriously). 

From then, my sick leave days were an in between of keeping up with a slow pace while having my brain running at 200 km/h speed on all the things I should do to make the best of this off work time. 

And that is how 4 days before getting back to work, I ended up baking a babka while facing that obviously, I need to make a change when it is about my work life. 

There are many, many recipes of babka that you can find by a simple Google research and all are most probably very good ones. But if you want to try mine, there it is. It is clearly not a vegan, gluten free and lactose free one though. 

List of ingredients for the dough :

250g of flour (if you are in France, I would mention T45 flour... I am currently in Sweden and it means absolutely nothing here)

50g of sugar

50ml of whole milk 

80g of butter (you can use salted butter if you like it) at room temperature. In french, we say "beurre pommade" which means that the butter is soft 

1 big egg at room temperature

1 pinch of salt

12g of dried yeast 

List of ingredients for the filling : 

As a matter of fact, you will probably see mainly chocolate babkas all over the internet but really you can chose whatever filling you like.

It can be Nutella or any hazelnut/chocolate paste you like. Just make sure to warm it up just a little bit to make it easier to spread it on the dough. 

It can be a mix of butter, cinnamon and sugar. 

It can be melted dark, milk or white chocolate to which  you can even add some chopped hazelnuts.

It can be your favorite jam.

It can be poppy seeds with cream cheese.

You have an endless choice of flavors.

Step 1 :  Make the dough. 

Ideally you have a stand mixer. 

If you do not have one, you can still do it. Yes,  you can. Like my great grand-mother was doing it. With your hands (no joke).

So in a bowl, you will mix the flour, the sugar and the pinch of salt. 
Add the plain egg and begin to mix slowly. 

Pour in the yeast that you had before dissolved in the 50ml warmed milk. 

And slowly continue to mix. 

Cut the roomed temp butter in small bites and incorporate in 3 to 4 times. The idea there is obtain a very smooth dough so it is important to let the butter incorporate well. 

With a stand mixer using the dough hook, it will take you around 10mn to obtain a soft and shiny bowl of dough. 

With your hands, well, you will have to work a little more but the good news is you will obtain the same soft and shiny bowl of dough and both of you will rest for one to two hours before the next step. 

Actually, if you would like to serve your babka for breakfast, you can prepare the dough the night before and let it rest the whole night in the fridge. The morning after, all fresh from a good night sleep, you will be ready for the step 2. 

Step 2 : the dough has its rest, it is time for filling and baking !

A little flour on the table, you are ready to roll out your dough in the shape of a rectangle. Have in mind the size of the cake mold you are going to use. 

Then spread the filling you have chose, not too thick but not too light neither. Generosity is key for me when I am baking or cooking but I have to say that for the babka, I have to restrict myself on the amount of filling unless it is almost impossible to bread the dough but let's get back to our recipe. 

So you have spread the filling. 

Now, you can gently roll up the dough in a tight spiral placing the seam underneath. Yep, the first time it is a bit of a stress but you will get it. 

Once you have rolled up the dough, it is now time to cut it....ha ha ha. I see your face. But how did you think you were going to braid It ?

So, let's go for a small surgical action and cut the roll in 2 following the length way and will quick understand why too much filling is not your friend. 

You have now 2 long pieces of dough that you can braid so you can see the layers of dough and filling. 

You are nearly there. 

Soon you can rest again. 

Once your braid is done, transfer it into the cake mold that you have before hand generously buttered. If you want to go for reduced fat, you can line you mold with baking paper. 

Cover with a clean tea towel and let it rest for one hour at room temperature to give time to the dough to almost double volume.

15mn before the proving time end, put your oven to heat at 180°C. 

1h has gone, time for the babka to reveal itself in all its glory by going 25 to 30mn in the oven. Brush the the top of the dough with milk or beaten egg and off in the oven !

My tip : at 20mn time of baking, check the coloration. At 25mn of baking, check with a skewer the baking process. It should come out clean. If not, keep on for 5mn.

Some like to make a syrup to give a shiny finish to the babka but I do not like it that much so I will leave you to this because I have a slice of babka that is waiting for me with a hot cup of black coffee. 

One could argue that coming back to writing on this blog with a story about soup is not the most glamorous way and I could agree. Yet, what better but a simple story to get back on track with my writing days?

I am entering this new year with a cold. Nothing out of the extraordinary in Swedish winter but this kind of annoying combo of fever, sore throat and running nose that leaves you looking like an old cloth in less that 2 days and the energy of a locomotive out of steam.

My first action was to press some lemon, add some fresh ginger, star anise and honey and wait for the cold to pass in the warmth of my bed. Remembering I am not living alone, I was about to propose to order some food delivery when I thought of one of my great grandmothers for whom a soup would always save the day. 

Melina, that was her name, was a very pragmatic and strong woman. Some would say she was a bit boorish. Born in 1890 in a small vineyard village in the northeast of France, she got married in 1913 just before the first world war and did not get much of one year of nuptial felicity before the war took her husband to the battlefield as well as all the male members of her family.

So, there she was in 1914, pregnant and handling the direction of a small vineyard and work in the fields with her twin sister Camille while their husbands were on the Verdun's battlefields. These were hard, very hard days and no wonder that Melina became quite a fierce and resourceful woman.

When I close my eyes, the first memories of her are a tiny woman of few words and smile, quite authoritarian, always wearing black and smelling of lavender and rosemary. I think I may have been a little afraid of her even if I was following her like a shadow at each of her steps, when my parents or my grandparents left me at her house and even if obviously, she was quite fond of me as her very first grandkid.

For a kid, Melina's house was an infinite source of curiosity, but the kitchen and the garden were my favorite places. The house was an old winegrower's house with heavy walls, small windows and low ceiling. The kitchen was the heart of it with its ceramic stove that was heating the whole house. Different aromatic herb and flower bunches were hanged at the ceiling, waiting to be dried enough to then be stored in jars that Melina would use for bouillons, tisanes and other homemade medications. 

The whole house furniture has been made by my great grandfather, a fine carpenter, out of the trees in the forest and orchards around. Oak, chestnut tree and plum tree. The melted smell of the wooden furniture, the drying herbs and flowers, the ceramic stove on which there always was a coffee pot, ready to serve, were a part of my childhood that I wish I had the talent to put into a bottle to keep forever.  

From generations of winegrower's wives and daughters, my great grandmother Melina was used from a young age to cook in large quantities with the minimum ingredients to nourish seasonal workers that would come to help for the harvests. 

Some seasons were not that lucky and Melina would then have to compose with the vegetables from the garden and not that much of meat and fat. For those bad days, she would use all her knowledge in herbs and vegetables to make a feast of the simplest soup.

Soup. 

For many French people, soup is probably the most common meal of all. The meal one has when not being rich enough to have meat at every meal. The word itself is not used in fancy menus... One would prefer a "potage", a "consommé" or a "velouté" and lately a bouillon can be the hype on a menu while the soup refers to a very old and rustic meal: a slice of bread on which one pours some bouillon made of vegetables and meat when one could have a fat meat to give taste and richness to it.
In short, the soup was a meal for poor people.

My great grandmother was not a woman who would care of being fancy and staying at her place for dinner from fall to early spring, you would have had a soup for dinner because there was nothing a soup would not help with. So, she would adjust herbs and spices with the vegetables, meat or fish or fat, according to the circumstances: the weather, what she had in the pantry, if one was sick. Staying with her was a full discovery of all kinds of bouillons that would be base of all kinds of potages, veloutés and consommés which she would always end up calling a soup because she would always call a spade a spade.

And that is how on the second day of January, I got out of my warm bed to put the stove on and prepare a soup like Melina would have done. Maybe at this point of the story, you would like to see the recipe of the soup in the picture?

Well, I may disappoint you as soup is the only meal I do not following a recipe but just "going with the flow" as my great grandmother was doing. A few tips I learned from her though: I always begin by making sweat one big yellow onion, or two small, in the pot with unsalted butter, salt, pepper, brown sugar and nutmeg, In Sweden, I recently found a spice mix called umami under the brand Santa Maria and it is quite good. When onions are colored, I add a branch of celery sliced in small cubes, two cups of water and I let it go to gently boiled to make the base of the bouillon. Then I cut the vegetables I have, I especially like the mix of carrots, turnips, pumpkin, leek and potato, put them in the pot and cover with water. I let it go to boil for 3 minutes, add water if needed to keep the vegetables covered, add 2 branches of rosemary, thyme and laurel and lower the stove to let it cook gently. When all vegetables are tender, it is time to mix and enjoy dinner! 

PS: the spoon on the picture is from a cutlery set that was in Melina's house and that I could have a few pieces after my grandmother Marguerite, her daughter, died. 

Going through the dating experience was not an easy adventure. It was more or less " i do not want to go but i am going but i do not want".  There was a few painful meetings, a lot of laughs and questions about what i was putting myself through. And then, there was THE one. 

Nearly 3 years later and a rental contract crash for me, there we were, facing the question of living together. 

Finding a rental appartement in Stockholm and near suburb is quite an adventure for any expat. A huge majority of rental offers are for a limited time of one year and with second hand contract which appears to be illegal in many ways and all very expensive. After leaving Paris inferno in term of real estate and rental, i could not imagine it could get worse in a city like Stockholm... but it indeed is. So when i came to find myself with no rental from one day to another, most of my colleagues and friends congratulated me on becoming finally "sambo" with my wonderful boyfriend. 

But then the question came, sambo or not sambo ? 

When you are nearly 55 and living alone for more than 8 years, would you go back to share your space and daily life with the one you love ? moreover for me with a bonus of two teenagers ! Or would you keep it "chacun chez soi" not to break this wonderful feeling of permanent dating ?

I did not have that much time to think of it so i dove into it and after a quick "keep and toss" game, me, a big suitcase, 5 moving boxes and a "few" cushions entered my boyfriend and his kids life on a 7/7 basis. One week after, if the suitcase and boxes were still not opened, some cushions found their place in the living space and on the bed... and a few plants learned to survive in an environment where they were not welcome.

We managed to fix a few rules of this new co living. Me stressed. Him relaxed. 

A couple of months later, we are still figuring out this new couple life with both our traumas, luggage, stories, experiences (not always the best ones !) from our past. Some days are easy and some are challenging. I learn to be more confident but also more open to talk, express my opinion and sometimes to stick to it not to lose myself in permanent acceptance, compromise and discover I love this new life more and more each day and would not go back for an empire. 

Does it work more easily as we are a young couple of not that young adults ? I would say yes. We both know that we have already pass more than half of our life expectancy, we are more ready to talk and compromise, find ways to make it work. One could say it is the fear of getting back in the not so fun dating game that makes us be more attentive and willing to find solutions but i genuinely think that it is having found a life partner that makes us want to cultivate and develop it. Feeling safe and loved may be one of the strongest happiness life can give... so I guess diving in sambo life was the best decision I have made this year. And as i just turned 55, I can say without a doubt that it is never, never, too late to find love.

From the morning espresso you take at the "comptoir" to the filter coffee served after lunch. Over the last 10 years, the french coffee scene has changed to set more place to "specialty coffee".  A movement dedicated to the art of coffee degustation putting the bitter espresso cup from traditional "bistro" to an end, or nearly.
When moving to Sweden, I knew already coffee and more specifically FIKA is part of every day life. 

But FIKA is not only about having a cup of coffee (or tea) and a pastry. 

FIKA is all about the time off you give to yourself while having a cup of coffee (or tea) and a pastry (not mandatory but highly recommended).

More than what "café en terrasse" is to French, FIKA is for Swedes a time off to have chat with family, friends or colleagues at work. More than a cup of coffee and a snack, it is a very social moment. 
At work, it is considered as important as any other task as this time off contribute to a good work atmosphere, give a time off that then boosts your energy to work or give a time off to speak about work tasks in a more relax context.
A creative moment.
While for a long time, the french traditional "pause café" had been badly considered by employers as a waste of time, FIKA has been elevated as a part of daily job. 
How not to love it ? 

I fell in love at first FIKA and made it mine since i moved to Sweden even if i am still unable to pronounce it with the right swede intonation. 

To make it yours, here are a few lecture tips :

• Fika, the art of the swedish coffee break by Anna Brones and Joanna Kindvall (my personal bible to Fika)
• Swedish Fika by Milo Kalén (and i can not but highly recommend a stop by her coffeeshop in Malmö, Kaka på kaka)
• The little book of Fika by Lynda Balslev

I could go on listing places on so many pages that i will stop there but please feel free to reach out by mail or in comment if you are in need of more places to stop by when in Stockholm or around. 

From all travels i was lucky to do, Tokyo is one of the most vivid in my memory.
Tokyo is that one of a kind capitale that makes you feel strongly disoriented, lost, overwhelmed... and yet more than eager to see more, experiment more, stay more and come back.
There are many, many things to see and do and one article would certainly be not enough to give them all...and i am not sure it is what i would like to share as there are also many good travel guides that will give you road maps and not to be missed lists you need, Lonely Planet in first place.

So no road maps on how to explore Tokyo in 5 days but a few tips to enjoy your travel.
From Europe, your flight will be in average 13 hours...

• if you can, get your body prepared to endure several time zones by slightly putting yourself in japanese time.
• get into comfy clothes, keep some all purpose hydrating cream or at least a rich one for your face (my absolute favorites are to be found at Aesop (perfect facial hydrating cream and sublime replenishing night mask) and Clinique (moisture surge intense and night mask of the same line-up), drink a lot of water... and, yes, i know it will make you visit the terrible tiny (and not always nice) bathrooms of the plane...but it will make you move a little and arrive in the best conditions to face jetlag as i am sad to say it is really quite impossible to avoid it.
• all companies are offering a large variety of movies and tv shows through individual tablets... a long flight can be a way to finally watch movies you have missed, yet, i would recommend a LoFi playlist on your phone to get you to relax and rest.  my favorite LoFi channel, Chillhop Music, can be found on both Spotify and Napster.
• if like me you can not travel without a paper travel guide... i mean, what better than a travel guide associate to a light note book to keep notes, receipts, doodles and little "souvenirs" from your travel ? My two guides for Tokyo : the traditional but always useful Lonely Planet and the funny Cool Japan Guide from Abby Denson. if you are more of a paperless person, i would recommend to check https://trulytokyo.com/ by Chris Rowthorn.
• 13 hours flight is also more than enough to prepare you "i do not to miss that" list if you did not have time to do it before. If Japan is your dream travel, you certainly do not want to miss some places and i completely get it. still Tokyo is covering 2 190km2 so checking the map and organise a bit your list will help you to enjoy your trip. my advise : check your list according your interests/passions and not only the "must see" places... it is your Japan travel !

I travelled to Tokyo third week of march, i was dreaming since a long time of "Sakura" season in Japan and was not disappointed even if it was the early beginning of it... the full bloom came the week after i was back home but weather was really nice with an average of 16° making the long walks easy. 

Tokyo's subway is quite easy, most of the time, and i would definitely recommend to buy a card at your arrival at airport. PASMO and SUICA are the two cards you can buy and charge with the amount you chose. 
Good to know, both cards can also be used in small grocery stores like 7Eleven.
SUICA would be my advise as it can support apple and google pay.

You will find wifi access in most coffeeshops and there are some wifi points in main tourists places like in Tokyo central station... still check your operator before and adjust data if necessary... using google maps can be quite data consuming if like me you tend to get lost ! 

if paper is your thing more than following a blue point on your phone, Periplus Tokyo map will be your best friend all along your trip.