Speaking of Garden Week, it poured buckets this year. But, I made sure to apologize to all the estate homeowners as my Hunter’s dragged cut grass from their gardens across their orientals. After four stops, my friend Gretchen (who gifted me the tour) and I found the rain had generated quite an appetite. We saw that Keswick Country Club was on the Garden Week list, so why not grab a nosh there? It never occured to us — when the  waitress asked for our membership number — that we we were essentially crashing. Apparently Garden Week only extends to the outside. But, oh, well, we had already ordered and, after agreeing to pay in cash, they let us nosh anyway.

My friends Tracey and Jacob through a gourmet feast for me one night. I was greeted at the door with a welcome cocktail. It didn’t occur to me to take a picture until it was gone. But, yes, it involved vodka.

And, look at how the vodka stayed chilled!  (There are clearly more things one can do with a garden than tour it.)

The first course.

Which involved more beverages.

And more food (we must get our vegetable and fruit servings in).

The main course was also healthy (trout!).

And, Jacob was sure to remove the head and tail for me. (Some day I’ll have to tell you the story about me being in a Paris 4 star restaurant, and getting yelled at by the French chef when I asked them to remove the head and tail. I was scarred for life.)

Much more wine was consumed throughout. And, of course, we had to have a little chocolate in between as well. Enter the chocolate lips.

The lips really got into the spirit of things as the night progressed.

Then, of course we had to have official dessert. Yes, that is a red velvet mini cupcake on top, which was mine. ALL MINE. And, because it was so small, that meant I got to have several more, of course.

And, because one can never have too much chocolate, we had hot chocolate in real chocolate cups.

I spent Sunday sugar-detoxing.  But, it was worth it.

I do not look like this.

But, I can get up on the hoop and flail around and spin, sort of. It’s supposed to just revolve. My teacher says I spin like I’m circling a drain. She is being kind.

The thing about this innocent looking steel hoop is that it hurts in the most interesting places. For instance, the knee hold, where you hand upside down by one bent knee?

My right knee thinks this is the most fun thing we’ve done since throwing our sand bucket over Billy in 2nd grade during recess.

My left knee (or the back of it) thinks I am the devil incarnate. This bruise does not even begin to show the swelling.

I am told eventually I will stop bruising. In the meantime, every Monday night at 9 p.m. you can pretty much guarantee you can find me on the couch packed in ice. Oh, and smelling like Arnica and biofreeze. Husband just looks at me like I’m crazy but secretly I think he likes that I refuse to give in to becoming an old crone. I shall spin and leap until I die, die, die (or at least get the knee hold). I’ll report in when that happens.

What is interesting is the size of Sweden. It’s big. Upon leaving Copenhagen at 8 a.m. we spent ALL DAY getting to our first destination in Sweden. First there was the walking to the bus station. Then, the bus to the train. Then, the train to Malmo. Then, the bus to the Malmo airport to get the rental car. Then, the 4 hour drive to Vaxjo, Sweden, our first stop.  It is now 4 p.m. Like I said – BIG.

Thankfully we had Inga, our GPS. Husband named her. (Did you have any doubts on that one?) We could not have gotten through the Swedish countryside without Inga. The country is so unmarked and so ancient feeling, I was sure we had passed through time and we would never be seen again. But, Inga kept us going. (Later, Inga turned into a cheap tart, as she didn’t work in the tunnels in Stockholm. But, I forgave her when we finally found the Avis office that no one in Stockholm seemed to know existed after sending us to three different locations. Anyway…)

We first visited a town called Vaxjo (pronouned Vay-ee-yo). Yeah, it took me five days to pronounce that one.

The whole reason we went to the big V was visit to some museum that Rick Stevens of the Travel Channel told us we simply MUST. Note to everyone, everywhere, you NEEDN’T. No explanation necessary.

Rather, head to the country between Vaxjo and Kalmar — about a 3 hour non stop drive, but which will take you all day because you’ll want to stop at all the glassworks in between. It’s called the Glass Trail in the Kingdom of Crystal. Who could resist such a name? The glassworks, or glasbruk in Swedish, are great for touring, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the glassblowing, and the begging of Husband for us to buy some art glass.

At Orrefors, we bought two candlesticks. They arrived a few days ago. One made it just fine.

The other was toast. Waaaah!!

That’s what happens when you trust a modicum of bubble wrap in a box that was clearly too big for the cargo. Add a nonchalant Federal Express system, and voila! Glass carnage.

I have already e-mailed Orrefors for a replacement. I also recommended more bubble wrap.

Of course, the next day our “art glass” (a platter) arrived. Isn’t it beautiful? It was designed and produced by a glass atist named Micke Johanssons.

It only looks sheer in the light. When placed on its back, it looks black.

Oh, and guess how it arrived? U.S. Postal service. Seriously.

USPS: 1  Federal Express: 0

To take my mind off the glass murder, I trolled through my other photos.

Oh, Sweden, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. After I described Sweden to my sister, Christine, she summed it up nicely: Sounds like it is human friendly. Sure is.

Here are the cliff notes, before I lose you completely:

1. The entire country — from the South to the North, from country to city — is impeccably maintained. Perfect. Not too overly manicured, but beautiful. Not a single cigarette butt or gum wrapper, graffitti defamation, or errant branch or dead plant anywhere. It is as if someone staged the country. In fact, in the country, it is a fairy land with forests right out of Grimm’s fairytales.

After visiting Kalmar, we were supposed to spend two nights on the island of Gotland (Sweden’s answer to the North Carolina Outerbanks) before heading to Stockholm. But the night before, Husband and I got the bright idea to check the ferry schedule. It is an island, after all. Turns out the ferry runs once a week during the “off season.” Guess which season we were in? Yes. So, we headed to Stockholm instead.

I will not bore you with the museums or tourist sights, as cool as they were. (You really must go to the history museum and spend the three hours going through the history of the Vikings. Oh, and be sure to visit the Vasa museum. Another time transport situation where you get to see a 16th century ship that was raised from the Stockholm harbor in the last decade or so. My pictures do not compare to their web site.)

Some of the most interesting things we saw were on a boat trip around the Archipelago surrounding Stockholm. I have “house” on the brain, so I was fascinated by the small summer homes on the hundreds of islands that make up greater Stockholm. Apparently, the Swedes spend their summers in these homes, away from their tiny little apartments and homes in the city.

Of course most of these have no electricity. But, who can complain when there  are saunas right on the water to visit?

Everyone seems to have a boat (but then again if the only way to get to your island is to cruise, then you would…)

And, how cute is this boat house??

If you’re feeling a little too crowded, you can always claim one of the 250,000 islands that make up greater Stockholm as your own.

2. If you get the chance, do NOT miss Gamla Stan, the medieval part of the city. It is its own island, actually. Lots of 16th century architecture (and cafes!). We had beer and an appetizer at the cafe at the base of the red building.

Not only will the streets send you back in time, but they are beautifully kept.

This is the narrowest street in all of Stockholm. It’s less than 3 meters wide.

3. Just like Denmark, you will see HUGE baby carriages (we’re talking small bicycle tires, industrial strength fabric and rain gear) that go everywhere and are often pushed by men. The baby carriages ride the subway and the bus as there is specially designed areas for them. And, no one seems to mind. To top if off, I never heard a baby or child cry or act out. They just seemed happy to be out. And, again, the men seem to really pull their weight in child raising.

4. The food is really good, contrary to what I heard. Lots of salmon and breads. Of course, you’ll need to cash in your IRA to eat. A cafe lunch for two will run you $50 to $60. And, a glass of wine costs about $20. One of my favorite travel bloggers, Sandra in Sweden or 59 North, as her blog is called, once wrote to pending Sweden tourists, bring all the liquor you can carry. She was right. So, we did. Two small bottles of vodka and a bottle of Glenfiddich came with us to Sweden (but didn’t leave with us).

Lots of fish to choose from, like this monkfish.

We even tried reindeer. It’s really, really good. Like the best beef filet you can imagine.

5. Avoiding class distinctions seems to be a national pasttime. Just ride their (pristine clean) subway system to see it in action. It doesn’t matter who you are, what age you are, or where you come from. You take public transportation.

6. Everyone speaks perfect (American) English. And, I mean everyone from the bus drivers to the grocery clerks. They don’t seem to mind (unlike the French).

7. There are places to sit down everywhere. Ever 10 feet in a museum, there was a bench or chair. Even outside in the pedestrian areas, there was seating. Oh, and note to parents everywhere, their museums had children areas sprinkled throughout the corridors so when the little ones got bored they had an area of their own to trash play in.

8. They don’t seem to care much about ABBA. Here is the extent of the “tribute to ABBA” in the music museum.

It’s okay, Sweden. I still love ya.

If I had taken that poll before we left for Europe, I would have answered “make sure you ask if you are planning on wearing a dirndl and listen to him.”

You see it all started with Oktoberfest.

On the final leg of our European adventure last month, we stopped off at Munich where Sister and Brother-in-Love live to attend (the real) Oktoberfest (in September, by the way). This was my little bribe to get Husband to visit Scandinavia, which he really wasn’t in the mood for. Husband is always in the mood for a mas of real German beer. So, off we went.

This time, however, I was determined to not look like a tourist. This meant I was going to wear a dirndl. And, Husband was going to wear lederhosen.

Did you know that on every street block there is a dirndl and lederhosen store? I am talking about stores dedicated to the push up cleavage and mountain hiker look. We found a cool vintage drindle store across the street from our hotel. After trying on several onmygodIwillneverbreathagain corsetted dirndls, I finally found one in my size. It was black with a red (sequined!) apron. Black! Fabulous. Black makes you look thinner right?

Au contraire mon frau. Not in Germany.

Of course, I am standing next to my very thin and beautiful friend Kim and Sister. Yes, we are standing in front of a beer truck. Yes, I am look wider than those kegs of better behind us.

Oh, and we had to wear nude hose. @Marijean once tweeted (I think from an airplane) that flight attendants were the only profession left that had women wear nude hose. Well, add Oktoberfest to that list, cuz that’s what the dirndl-selling ladies told us we had to wear. And, when the dirndl-shop clerks tell you to do something, you do it.

But, I got over my pleated hips and nude covered legs. After all, it was festival time!

There was beer to drink!

And, songs to sing in our tent!

But, then we returned home. I downloaded the pictures (first mistake). Then, I mentioned at a family dinner one night about how the drindl made me look a little chubby (second mistake). Husband, without missing a beat between bites of crab cake AGREED.

Should have taken the poll before we left. Should have remembered that pleats don’t look good on anyone.

It’s fairytale book-beautiful in the country and their cities are amazingly clean and architecturally interesting.

We travelled from Malmo to Stockholm during our trip. I’ll give you the travelogue complete with pictures of architecture, palaces and historic sights later. Today, I’m giving you the really important stuff. The Fashion Report.

If I had been born Swedish I am pretty sure I would have children (who wouldn’t want to procreate with these gorgeous — both in and out – people?), been jetting to Italy and France for long weekends with my hunk of Viking man meat boyfriend and be a heck of a lot thinner. Of course, this “being thinner” business might have had to do with the fact that the average cost of a glass of wine was $15 and a simple sandwich lunch costs $30…

Anyway, on to the fashion!

Just like Copenhagen, there wasn’t a boot cut or relaxed fit pair of pants or jeans in sight. They are all (including the men’s wear) wearing skinny pants. I also saw a lot of leather jackets with fur, scarves and boots. Not many super high heels. Lots of flats or low heels. Oh, and no Nike or Adidas athletic shoes. They wear Converse without exception.

But, then again, they walk everywhere. And, I mean EVERYWHERE. The subway and bus circuit is vast, as you’ll find in most European cities. But, Stockholms’ in particular seemed massive. I have the blisters to prove it.

Anyway, on to the pictures!

Not all Swedes are blonde. But an unfair and inordinately number of them are stunningly beautiful. Everyone is a size 0. (I took these pictures while sitting at a cafe munching on a pastry. Yeah, I felt like a heffer.)

Sorry for the blurry pictures, but they walk faaassst. And, I was trying not to get caught. Nothing like a stalker tourist to make yourself unwelcome right away.

Long hair is clearly “in.”

I would have had pictures of the men for you, but I was too busy drooling. Even Husband turned to me in the subway station and asked, are there a lot of men here who look like male models? Or is it just me? No, it’s not you. They are helltotheyes gorgeous. So much so, I never got a single picture. I was too busy trying to not get caught staring (though I did get caught by one particularly gorgeous brunette Alexander Skarsgard look-alike as he stood on the subway. He  was young enough to be my son. But, fantasy knows no age prejudice.)

So, there is a little taste of the Scandinavian fashion scene. I have to go now. There is much shopping to be done!