They do it on the street

When I was eight years old, I read a book by Nobel Prize winner Selma Lagerlöf named Nils Holgersson’s wonderful trip through Sweden. You may have heard about the story of a little mischievous boy who is so naughty that a troll transforms him into a little midget. Being scared and left alone because he is too small to function into the big people’s world, he escapes and gets adopted by a bunch of wild-geese whom he follows on a trip to Northern Sweden and back to the south. He discovers his country, every big city, every mountain and lots of scary things happen to him as he is so little and basically all the other animals try to eat him all the time. At eight, I wasn’t able to see the metaphoric values of it all, one thing was sure, it hooked me on Sweden.

I had never heard about that country before. When you grow up in France, you think everything is French, Mickey Mouse, McDonald’s, spaghetti, ABBA and even John Travolta is French. What the hell, he speaks perfect French on (dubbed) TV, so of course he’s French. Moreover, world knowledge is not a French specialty. Aside from the nasty Germans, the ugly English and the American cowboys, most French kids know nothing about other countries.
Indeed, Switzerland and Sweden, what’s the big difference, it all sounds very sweet but no kid has a clue, where these countries are and what they represent on a larger scale. Sweden in French is La Suède. Probably the most beautiful word in the French language. It is so soft and creamy that you either want to kiss it or eat it. Anything or anybody who comes from that place must therefore be as kiss- or eat-worthy.
However, I knew nothing about Sweden, I just knew from that book that it had amazing sceneries, friendly wild-geese and very small children. I therefore asked my grand-father, whom I thought knew everything about the world, to tell me what he knew about Sweden.
As a matter of fact, my grand-father had a well established opinion about Sweden and he replied by just saying: Don’t ever go there, promise your grand-pa you’re never EVER going there”.
At eight, I was even more annoying with my questions than I am now and this raised my curiosity. So I asked why why why, about 244 times until he told me: “you are too young to understand, but please, never go there”.
Let’s put this back into context. What is Sweden famous for today and what was it famous for in the 70’s?
Today: Tall and big breasted blondes who munch on fiber hard bread all day, who speak an alien language like the Swedish chef in the Muppet show, who give excellent massages in between shopping at IKEA and occasionally playing in porn movies. In the 70’s: Tall and big breasted blondes who play in porn movies.
I was of course perfectly unaware of this reputation and insisted and yelled until I started sounding like a Rumanian entry at Eurovision Song Contest that my Grand-father finally gave up and said that he would tell me only if I promised not to go there. Ever.

I promised.

They have sex on the street, he said. They look at each other while walking down the streets and they do it between two cars. They are very unhealthy people.
I didn’t really recognize the beautiful green hills Selma Lagerlöf described in her book, I didn’t understand what having sex between two cars entailed, the only thing I was sure of was:

Sweden, here I am.

And I did go.

And stayed eight years.

And I never did it…

… on the street.

Two days ago was Sweden’s national day.

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