When Per Olov Enquist came to Berlin in 1970, he moved to a foreign and unfamiliar world: "What was German was far from self-explanatory", he writes in his memoirs Ett annat liv. In the mental aftermath of the war, Berlin and Germany were still something almost non-existent to Swedes.
The South Slavic part of my family reminds me of a steak tartar, one of those dishes that looks good on the plate, but nobody really knows what it contains. My father-in-law was a communist, a partisan under Tito, and later on a general. After the war, he belonged to the Yugoslavian nomenklatura.