The Core Dump

My dad’s uncle took over the family farm in Sweden after his parents passed away. The farm was located smack dab in the middle of nowhere. He lived there alone with the livestock for his entire life, after a teenage romance went sour and he swore off women.

One of his amusements was to name his animals after family members. One of them was a bull he didn’t like. Apparently the bull was lazy. So naturally he named it after his brother-in-law.

From what I’ve been told, one day he stood and looked at the bull in its manger, shook his head, and said, “We only keep you around for the fertilizer.”

Lots of that going around these days.

One of the many great things about iPhone take 2.0 is that it supports the Swedish language, which makes things like sending email to friends and family in Sweden a lot easier.

Except that the Swedish keyboard layout is missing the characters “åäö,” which are part of the language.

No people, it’s not just Mötorhead and Mötley Crüe who use rockdots, they’re part of a language spoken by 9 million people.

There’s a workaround, which is to tap and hold the “a” and “o” characters until a popup with the diacritical marks shows up. Needless to say, that’s suboptimal.

This is annoying enough that I went ahead and created my first Apple Radar report, #6073522:

SUMMARY

The Swedish keyboard in iPhone firmware 2.0 is missing the keys åäö. These letters are part of the Swedish alphabet, and not having them accessible in the keyboard layout makes typing much more inefficient.

The letters can be accessed by holding down the a and o keys until a popup appears with a selection of diacritical marks, but this is a painful way to type.

STEPS TO REPRODUCE

Put iPhone to use Swedish keyboard. Notice how åäö do not appear.

EXPECTED RESULTS

The characters åäö should be accessible with the rest of the alphabet keys.

Midsummer’s Eve is arguably the biggest holiday in Sweden, and definitely my favorite—there’s no flag waving and no gift buying. It’s all about enjoying the longest day of the year, the lushness of Sweden at its finest, and eating good food.

So I was incredibly happy to be able to spend Midsummer in Sweden and partake along with my daughter.

The holiday requires nubbe—chilled akvavit—so there was quite a line at the state-controlled liquor store the day before.

Inside Systembolaget (the Swedish state-controlled liquor store). Click for larger version.

A large part of the tradition is the raising of and dancing around the midsummer pole. As you can see, the phallic nature of the pole was disguised by Christian missionaries with the addition of a cross bar which was then subverted with the cunning use of wreaths. You can use your own dirty mind to figure out what the wreaths resemble. Clever of the heathens, I say.

Midsummer pole. Click for larger version.

After the pole was raised, traditional dancing ensued. Andrea was a bit confused but happy.

Traditional dancing. Click for larger version.

Another important tradition is to eat outside. Dagnabbit, it’s the middle of summer, so Food Shall be Consumed Out of Doors. As is also customary, rain was threatening, so it was a bit touch and go on that part.

Eat outside you want, eh? Click for larger version.

But never say die, so we set the table on the patio.

The table getting set up. Click for larger version.

The most important items are already on the table: the herring and the nubbe. Everything else is gravy.

Fortunately, the weather gods relented, and we were able to dine al fresco.

All in all, an excellent Midsummer’s Eve.

It’s getting past 11:30pm, and my parents and daughter are asleep—I’m sitting in my parents’ living room gazing at the dusk outside, the sky a deep magenta as it patiently waits for the sun to return. Gabriel and Dresden play in my headphones and a glass of red wine sits on the table.

This, my friends, is what vacation is all about—had a great day with my parents, ate a good dinner, listened to the rain fall on the roof, and now there’s only the music from my headphones and the never-ending light coming through the windows as I watch the red wine darken.

There are many things I want from life, but being able to sit watching the midnight sky while my family sleeps trumps them all.

Many happy returns.

Swedish pennant under a blue sky. Click for larger version.

Andrea and I are safely nestled at my parents’ house after a long journey from Phoenix to Sweden.

We had stop-overs in Chicago and Copenhagen, both of which were short and sweet, even though the time between flights was way too chintzy in Copenhagen and we ended up running through the airport with me carrying Andrea and our luggage, blitzing past flight monitors that had our flight status as “closed.” A wee bit on the stressful side, but we made the puddle jumper from Copenhagen to Gothenburg with our stomachs in our throats.

Andrea was a complete champ through the trip. I think it’s that she’s six years old now, and really gets what’s going on as we hop from aluminum tube to aluminum tube.

We landed in a Sweden from some other dimension, with clear blue skies and warm weather.

At this point things have cooled down a bit and the clouds are threatening rain, but it’s still really nice and the summer light is incredible—even though I grew up here, it was still amazing when Andrea and I woke up at 4am the morning after we landed to find it light enough to go outside and read the newspaper.

I understand there are worse ways to spend the month of June.

Update: They fought the law and they won. The couple’s daughter is now officially named Metallica. /Update

A couple in Sweden have, for whatever reason, decided to name their baby daughter Metallica.

The problem (for them, not their daughter, who obviously is going to have whole other set of problems) is that the Swedish National Tax Board have refused to let the couple register the name.

A non-Swede would be excused to ask, “What does a Tax Board have to do with this?”

Allow me to explain. Basically the way things work in Sweden is that no matter what the issue, there’s a government agency to take care of you. Some people kept giving their children ridiculous names that caused them to be mocked and ridiculed. So a government agency was given the authority to oversee names in the interest of making sure that children weren’t given names that could cause hardship later in life.

Those people are obviously still on the job.

The thing I always wonder about is how they handle immigrant names. If Abdul and Hined move to Sweden from some faraway land, and then choose to name their child after the arab version of Metallica, how would the Swedish National Tax Board know?

I’m guessing there’s an efficient bureaucracy leaving no stone unturned, with consultants brought in from all over the world as needed, able to discern that a child’s name actually means Frigtard in Hindi…

Soundtrack: “Breaker” by Accept

This was the scene in Skövde, Sweden, on January 10, 1987:

Ice Palace. Photo: Roland Svensson. Source: Skaraborgs Allehanda.
Click for larger version.

A fire broke out in a department store building on a day of temperatures of -20F (-30C). The cold was so bad that firefighters could only work 20-minute shifts, and there were still a few cases of frostbite.

Soundtrack: The Loft on XM Satellite

I’m a simple man, with simple tastes.

Keeping that in mind … friends, Romans, lend me your screens and allow me to show you the ultimate in human food:

Kebab pizza. Click for larger version.

Kebabs are delicious. Pizza is delicious. When you join these two forces of deliciousness together, what do you end up with?

That’s right. Crazy delicious. That’s what.

The little plastic container at the top of the picture contains another Swedish pizza specialty—a cabbage salad made with vinegar, oil, and spices that complements the pizza. It should be noted here that of course neither the pizza nor the salad are in any way Swedish inventions. Every pizzeria I’ve set foot in has been operated and run by immigrants from various middle- or far-Eastern countries.

I, for one, would like to thank them for their contributions to the culinary treasures of the world.

Soundtrack: “Murder For The Money” by Morphine

Here we go then, the longest night of the year is behind us, and the pig has been sacrificed and eaten.

My nephew as Mini Santa. Click for larger version.

Hope all is well wherever you’re reading this.

Soundtrack: “Little Bird” by Lisa Miskovsky

Frost on Window Pane. Click for larger version.

I like the composition on this one. Feels like Christmas.

Soundtrack: “Little Bird” by Lisa Miskovsky