Americans
are popular on Swedish television. We are fun to watch. There’s a group
of us on one of the most popular reality shows, Allt För Sverige. The
contestants have come to Sweden to discover their roots. One of them is
eliminated each week. The one left standing will get to spend some days
with whatever relatives the program’s researchers can dig up . . . often
literally. There are no lies or plots, like on Survivors. They weep and
shed tears of grief over the sufferings of discovered ancestors.
“Your great
grandfather, Gustav Johansson, had only a scrawny pet moose, and a
turnip patch. Then the Russians came and things got worse . . .”
Contestants
are friendly, and polite . . . when on camera. There have been rumors
they don’t get along that well between shows. Each week the players are
guided though a bit of Swedish history and scenery, a picturesque
travelogue in ninety percent English, designed for a Swedish audience. I
doubt it will get much play elsewhere, but who knows. The Americans are
fascinated by anything over a hundred years old. They have wooden sheds
here older than a hundred years, still good as new . . . rock solid,
hewn logs, painted Red. Americans would have torn ‘em down years ago,
built something better, newer, with less emphasis on permanence.
Last week’s
episode took the contestants to a Swedish Independence day celebration,
June 6th. The end of Danish rule . . . a national holiday. Some Swedes
say it should not be one, but they probably compromised, thinking a day
off, is a day off. They are a practicable people. The Independence Day
they televised was modest. A parade with maybe thirty in the band. The
band was the parade. A small town, small crowd watching, some in
costume. Followers may remember a previous blog, a centennial
celebration at Säter.
They seem to like us
here. You see American flags on backs of jackets, purses, sweat shirts,
pillows, shoes and key chains. The second most popular show
here is, “Swedish Hollywood Wives,” totally worthless, weekly, TV trash
that somehow to addicts people. Victims agree it’s trash, and are
embarrassed to admit they watch, but can’t stop watching. I kicked the
habit after four episodes.
The show uses ninety percent Swedish dialog,
with a typical sprinkling of English. There are a multitude of much used English words, and phrases invariably threaded though any conversation here. Words like: okay, sure, toast, tree huggers, mail, and spam, whatever, just to name a few. I’ve been lucky having English as my native tongue, but
Swedish kids learn English in grade school, and maybe a little German. A world class advantage.
Mass media has
made easy for Swedes to learn English, almost a necessity. The best
movies, and half the TV shows here are in English . . . most of the good
stuff. If you don’t understand English you’re going to miss a lot. I
desperately want to learn Swedish. I can’t read magazines, browse
through bookstores, or read labels. Is this Viagra or a sleeping pill? I'm
trying to learn; it is not going well. After nine months I have a twenty
word vocabulary, and still have trouble with some of the sounds.
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