This weekend, I felt warm sunshine for the first time in six months.
I also wore something other than a large, down-filled coat and waterproof boots for the first time in six months.
My husband and I spent a long weekend relaxing in the French Riviera city of Nice. If you haven’t experienced six months of winter, constant cloud cover and darkness at one point in your life, then you probably can’t understand why I had tears in my eyes when the weekend was over.
As we sat in the sunshine sipping wine during the afternoons, we asked ourselves the same question we ask every time we are in southern Europe: Why do we live in Sweden?
Don’t get me wrong; Sweden is beautiful … in summer. It’s even a bit charming around December with the Christmas lights and children sledding in the snow, but that’s about all of winter we can take. Once January rolls around, this place is a slush-filled wasteland that honestly doesn’t get much better until around May.
I apologize for sounding bitter, but please take a look at the following picture. One is breakfast in Nice and the other is before dinner the same day back in Stockholm (picture frozen lasagne waiting at the end of this desloate trail). Which one would you rather be living in during March?
I rest my case.
