A Week in Sweden

 Starting a fun day of sightseeing

at a cold beautiful overlook of Stockholm

 I recently had the opportunity to visit Sweden.  I went in November, an unusual time to go close to the Artic Circle but it was when I had time available.

 A beautiful woman who helped with

directions in the central city.

Can you tell she's Swedish?

She is.

It was my very first time in Northern Europe.  I felt like I had returned to my childhood! Having grown up in the center of Iowa, I had been surrounded by Norwegians and Swedes.  They were proud "Scandinavians" eating lutefisk at Christmas and displaying their bright red wooden Swedish horses and candelabras.  My mother had learned how to cook Swedish tea rings from our Scandinavian-American neighbors and my whole family did our best to encourage that borrowed ethnic specialty in our house. Warm, fragrant, gooey, cinnamony, frosted tea rings are delicious!

 This young woman was

on my tram in Stockholm.

Can you tell she's Swedish?

She is.

I delighted in all of the ethnic Swedish names.  Say these out loud, they're so beautiful:

Astrid and Ingrid and Märta and Linnea
Einer and Anders and Liam and Mattias and Nils

and these last names:

Eriksson and Olsson and Gustafsson and Lindberg and Eklund and Lindgren and Lundin and Nordstrom

 A Swedish Royal Palace Guard

Can you tell he's Swedish? He is.

Being exposed to all of the glorious first and last names common throughout Sweden made me realize some friends back home, especially those living in Northern Illinois, were of Swedish origin.  I had never considered their ethnic origin before that moment.  It was fun to discover.

Contemporary Swedes have an open heart. It's not always easy to do so, but they do.  They have opened their country to immigrants from other countries and are now learning terrific food from them like I learned about Swedish tea rings and lefsa back home in Iowa.

This polite young man came to Sweden

from Somalia when he was six.

Can you tell he's Swedish?  He is.

Can you tell this man is Swedish?

OK, he's half Swedish.

The other half is Zambian.

I admired the Swede's open hearts because when everyone is sooooo ethnically similar, it has to be disconcerting to have people with different religions and traditions and values and ideas integrate into your society and start to change things by just being their normal selves going about their normal daily lives.

In one grocery store, I asked an immigrant helping me find cranberries where he was from.  "Kurdistan!" he said, with all of the fierceness he could muster.  I had to think about it for a moment and then realized the reason I didn't know where it was is because it is an area within Iraq.

Knowing that there are all kinds of people like him scattered across the globe in an ethnic diaspora, is a reminder to give all of these people a break. I was glad when he dissolved into a surprised fit of giggles hearing me give him an Turkish "tessekur ederim" (thank you).

Complimenting a Swedish lady about her country's openness to immigrants, she said, "but who can say who is Swedish?  My grandparents are from Poland!".

We Americans should be especially grateful for the Swedish open hearts because they are the world's people most gracious enough to take in Iraqis fleeing strife cause by the war and occupation the Bush Administration started in Iraq.  In 2006, Swedes took in more Iraqis than any other country in the European Union.  Christian Iraqis, fearing persecution in their homeland, make up a large part of that influx after Iraq occupation in 2003.

Sweden, this little tiny nation of 9 million, has taken in 100,000 Iraqis.  America, with a population of 310,000,000 has only taken in 350,000-400,000 Iraqis from a war we started.  If you meet a Swede, America, you might want to say "thanks."

Or, we could do even better, we could crack open our hearts a little.