The Ancient Swedes

ÄLMHULT/RYSSBY - As we slowly rolled past the restaurant/hotel, I became very aware of the nervous energy coursing through my body. I was feeling incredibly anxious and started to snap my fingers to a beat that only existed in my head...

Eight hours earlier, Jenny and I were the only ones waking up in the caravan. We did our best to avoid waking the others as we sorted through the wreckage that was three days of six individuals living out of a trailer.

There was a long drive ahead and we still weren't sure about whether I could drive in this country or not. Which meant Jenny had to do it all on her own. Sitting in the passenger seat, I braced myself to fight off the sunbeams and the rock,rock,rocking which would be doing its very best to try to put me to sleep.

I hadn't exactly slept soundly in the caravan. We went to bed late and had to rise early. That paired with a sun that never truly sets and a whole night's worth exhaling from the caravan's occupants left me feeling a bit like trying to sleep in an Illinois attic during the summer. I was tired.

"Just go to sleep," Jenny said. "I don't mind."

But I did.

So, I stayed up and did my best to ramble,ramble,ramble with stories from home. Whenever I could keep it up. I felt bad because I knew she had to be just as tired as me and she was the one who had to drive the whole way back.

There would be no complaining from me.

We made a quick stop through Örebro and then floored it to get back. We were running late.

Jenny's grandfather was having his 80th birthday party that day and there didn't seem to be any physical way we were going to arrive on time. Unless we skipped taking showers...

Which seemed like a pretty bad idea, neither of us having showered in three days and wearing clothes that desperately needed a washing.

It took a while, but we made it back to Älmhult and I had a chance to see Jenny's house for the first time. A very nice place in the country. Lots of stonework. I didn't take much time to look at everything though... I was focused on the whole showering thing.

After the shower, I realized I only had one clean pair of pants and one clean shirt left. Fortunately, they matched each other well and gave me a whole Dickies outfit. Unfortunately, that meant I was wearing my button-up Dickies shirt which helps make me look about fifteen years old.

Jenny printed some directions (after admitting she didn't really know where this shindig was at) and we ventured out to a nearby town.

We were running really late. The party started at 2pm. It was now 4.

Oops.

So, there we are, rolling past the front of the restaurant/hotel. Me, staring out the window, my hands playing their nervous snapping game. I usually try to keep it under control. My tell. I prefer to keep my anxiety to myself when possible...

Why was I nervous? I was about to walk into a room full of Ancient Swedes, all friends of the grandfather I hadn't met yet, as a dopey-looking American who has helped make his granddaughter very, very late to his birthday party.

Oh, did I mention that none of the Ancient Swedes speak English?

We parked. I took a deep breath. We walked in.

As we walk into the room, I see Jenny's parents, who smile. Then Jenny's brother and his girlfriend (I hadn't met them yet). And a whole lot of Ancient Swedes who seemed to be staring.

There were several details that I was unaware of until after the party.

Detail #1: I looked like this the entire time.



"Oh, you mean you were wearing that shirt the entire time?"

No. Well... yes. But more importantly, according to Jenny, I had that look on my face the entire time.

This is the day the nickname "Monkey" started.

Detail #2: Apparently, I had been mentioned.

When we walked in, people began muttering about "the American." Some pointed. I blushed a little.

I had spent most of the ride over to the restaurant/hotel going over a few Swedish phrases again and again and again in my head.

Don't forget to say, "Grattis," I told myself, wanting to make sure to wish Jenny's grandfather a happy birthday.

Jenny went over and talked to someone sitting down. I stood around, looking like this:



Suddenly she was waving me over. I had spaced out for a moment. I walked over and the man she was with stuck out his hand, greeting me in Swedish. I met his hand and started shaking, muttering, "Hi," (in English of course) and just looking dumb.

She leaned in and said, "Say, 'Grattis.'"

Huh?

"Say, 'Grattis.'"

Oh, crap. This is her grandfather.

"Uh... uh... Grattis." Every bit of Swedish I had memorized oozed slowly out of my brain and ended up on the floor somewhere. I found myself hoping no one slipped in it.

He smiled and kept shaking. My face darkened a bit more.

We went and sat down with Jenny's parents and sister, Julia. Across the table from me were Jenny's brother and his girlfriend. I sheepishly introduced myself.



"Hi. I'm Nick."

I wanted some water. But all the glasses on the table were empty.

Conversation started between everyone. I just sat, smiled, and nodded.



This was around the time when Jenny started laughing.

And had a hard time stopping until long after we had left the party.

I laughed a little, but mostly it just came out like this:



We had arrived at the very end of the party and people were ready to leave. Jenny's mom stood up and started saying bye to some people. Then Jenny stood. So I stood too.

Next thing I know, I am standing between Jenny and her mother in some sort of receiving or goodbye line. People are approaching Jenny to say some words and then moving on to me before reaching Jenny's mother.

They greet me in Swedish, smile, and start talking.

I smile and nod:



And my face darkens a bit more.

Jenny is openly laughing at me to the right.

Her mother is laughing on my left.

Me? I'm laughing out loud as well, utterly confused.



Even Uncle "Fish Cakes" is there, laughing in the background.

This one guy tries to say hi and realizes I don't speak any Swedish. He begins to speak with Jenny's mom, looking me up and down while doing so. Occasionally I pick out an "Amerikansk", maybe an "engelska", and most certainly a "Chicago".

They speak for several minutes, all the while looking me up and down, when Jenny's mother decides to paraphrase for me.

"He visited Chicago once."

Oh? Is that all? I found myself wishing more than ever that I had learned more Swedish ahead of time.

Jenny is laughing in the background again. More people are greeting me. My nodding is becoming more vigorous and the smile is frozen on my face.



I am now holding back gut-splitting laughter.

What is so funny? I think to myself.

This whole situation.

Jenny finally takes my arm.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Yes. Not that everyone wasn't being nice. I had just grown greatly and hilariously uncomfortable greeting a line of people who don't know me and don't speak my language.

We went outside. I breathed.

The rest of Jenny's family emerged and everyone was laughing. Mostly at me.

We said bye to Jenny's family and decided to go get pizza, since we had missed the meal at the party.

As we drove off, Jenny told me about how they had been talking about me before we arrived.

She also mentioned another thing...

Detail #3: Someone had started the rumor that I was Jenny's fiancé.

I guess they kept saying it again and again while they met me in the greeting line.

They must have also been saying, "Aww. Isn't Jenny sweet? Marrying that poor, underage, "special" American boy."



I want pizza.