So today, Kevin Daniel and I went to our local photo gear establishment to buy a socket for a large fluorescent light I had purchased some time ago. My plan being to put the light inside a soft box, I asked if they had a socket that could accommodate a speed ring. They did not, but they had a socket with a speed ring attached to it:


















Perfect, I said. How much? Imagine my surprise when I was quoted the low, low price of $289.00!! Thanks, but no thanks, The Man...

As we briskly left the shop, Kevin said he thought he could make that thing for twenty bucks. Game on. We went to the plastic store, then the hardware store, and back home. Kevin cut a disc out of a thick piece of plastic, drilled some holes it, then mounted a light socket and a speed ring to it. Then he wired it up, and voila! All for just under twenty bucks. Thanks, Kevin, and take that, The Man! For more of Kevin's craftiness, and to see his photos, visit his Flickr stream













Photos by Kevin Daniel

Hurrah! A book called 'Hem' (Home) by Monika Lidman! I am not one to toot my horn often, but I just finished an extensive family history project. It took two and one-half years and the feeling, upon completion, is more satisfying and exhilarating than I ever imagined. I am proud to have made something to leave behind - stories of some very brave Swedes. Cousins and interested friends can go here to order copies. The smashing cover was designed by John Kieltyka.

The Swedish Legal System have just completed their annual stop-motion holiday music video extravaganza for you, the valued customer. Enjoy!

Monika has finished the latest batch of Ratnip Love Dolls for cats. Afsi and Eugene sent these photos of their cat Leo, who loves him some nip. Click the photo to read more...

Monika has just finished this great portrait of Leonard Diller, the man for whom our building is named. He now watches diligently (or 'Diller-gently') over the mailboxes in the lobby.

The Swedish Legal System is proud to present to you, the valued customer, their cover of Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield" - now with 100% more explosions

The Swedish Legal System is at it again, this time creating a version of ELO's Showdown, by request of SLS Facebook fan Rusty Shackles. Recorded live at Verkstad. Trivia: this was Bjorn's first time ever playing a ukulele.

The Swedish Legal System have started a new tradition: the holiday stop-motion animation video!

We're booking photo sessions for the holidays. Gene and Monkey stopped by recently.

http://www.boingboing.net/2010/11/09/jumping-kitteh-how-h.html

Ed and Carter showed up for their yearly zombie portraits recently. They walk in zomBcon at the Seattle Center each year. TechRepublic picked up on the action, and created a gallery of the event. Thanks for including one of my pics, guys.

 

Just finished a new CD cover design project. This one is for a compilation of songs by Microsoft employees. The CDs will be sold, and the proceeds matched and donated to The National Association for Music Education.

 

Yesterday I took my new-found enthusiasm for tattoos and went to the Seattle Tattoo Expo at the Seattle Center. Lots to look at. Pictured here are my friend Sarah (right) and her friend Steph, working Madame Lazonga's booth.

The Swedish Legal System were fortunate enough to be able to film their latest video in the now-closed Lusty Lady, one of the last of the classic peep shows in Seattle. Filming took place during the last week the venue was open, and was made with the help of several "Lusties", all of whom volunteered, AND showed up at 5AM for shooting, two days in a row. We are very happy to present to you, the valued customer, SLS' version of Carly Simon's "You're So Vain"

Monkey the wiener dog came to Verkstad last night, and spread his jump-up-and-down-say-hi-to-everyone brand of happiness all over the joint.

Animals set on Flickr

To read more about SLS, check out their blog

The Verkstad upgrade continues. Help yourself to a swell new gallery of scribbles made during boring meetings!

I don't know if Lee Greenwood is gonna like this, when he sees it....

Monika and I shipped off our drawings to the annual DrawProject show in Valdosta, Georgia.

This September, we were lucky to host second-cousin Leif Lidman, who visited from Piteå, Sweden. After 25 hours of travel, he arrived in Seattle around midnight. Early the next morning, we looked out the window and saw him below, taking photographs of our downtown neighborhood. He had only 12 golden days to experience our city and "no time to waste, sleeping." Leif is a veritable powerhouse of energy and enthusiasm - outgoing, friendly and always open to new experiences and ideas. What a guest!

Of special interest to him - the Seattle programs and interactive events, parks and venues designed to showcase the arts. He is the program director for Badhusparken in his town, a park that functions as the living core of Piteå. He schedules all events that occur there, from the big names that travel to perform at their outdoor stage, to folk dancing and storytelling sessions in the round house, to the Saturday morning flea market, to the oversight of the popular hostel, housed in what was the town's oldest hospital. He's an ambitious guy with lots of great ideas.

In the short days that he was with us, we covered a lot of ground. Family, friends and the artists of the Diller Hotel will remember him well. Hats off to Leif, the best ambassador and enthusiast that Piteå has to offer! Thanks for the memories!

Our good friends George Ferrandi and Miguel Luciano recently painted a Barack Obama mural on her building in Brooklyn. This inspired Monika to make a banner we could hang out our window. George emailed her graphic, and Monika got to work. So what are you waiting for?

Photo by Kevin Daniel

Photo by Kevin Daniel

The Fall 2008 Phoebe Literary Journal will include multiple examples of my meeting doodles. Thanks to editor Ethan Edwards for contacting me - the issue looks great.

We took the X2000 fast train from Stockholm back down to Lund, where we relaxed and laughed with Tommy and Maria for the last few days of our epic Swedish journey. There's nothing quite like winding down in a back yard full of singing birds and sunshine.

In just 62 whirlwind days, we had traveled 9,708 miles back and forth from Seattle to Copenhagen and another 3,000 miles while in Sweden. We ate, we drank, we gained weight. We loved every minute of it.

Thank you, all 73 of you, for your part in our happy and memorable adventure:

Tommy, Maria, Per, Nina, Greta, Gerd, Marita, Sven-Ake, Hans, Agnetha, Camilla, John, Niclas, Lina, Marica, Janne, Elin, Ida, Inger, Ulla, Lisbett, Siv, Inger, Ulf, Helene, Bo, Imant, Arla, Bitte, Per, Felicia, Hannes, Iva, Stig, Ewa, Sofia, Sandra, Ann-Mari, Bo, Ann-Sofie, Linnea, Andreas, Leif, Monica, Suzanne, Marie, Barbro, Bengt, Viktor, Johanna, John, Lars, Helena, Julia, Gun, Linda, Elsy, Janne, Eivor, Jenny, Anna, Andreas, Evangelina, Caroline, Hakan, Gosta, Aida, Jenny, Pelle, Ted, Johanna, Magdalena and Klara.

We return home with fond memories of a beautiful land and warm, generous relatives and friends. You opened your hearts and homes to us, and your hospitality will not be forgotten. Have a healthy and happy summer!

-John and Monika

Before leaving Stockholm we had to visit at least one overtly tourist thing. We chose the Absolut Icebar, a bar made entirely out of ice, right down to the glasses. The place is kept at -5°C all year; when you go in, you're given a coat and gloves.

It wasn't long before Monika and I started getting cold, but between the vodka and the fascinating surroundings, we soon forgot the temperature.

Even the walls are made out of ice, and we loved the way the light moved through it.

The next day we headed out to Skeppsholm, where we visited the Moderna Museet, a fantastic contemporary art museum.

To get there, we took a subway line that runs further underground than other lines we had used. All of Stockholm's subway stations have public art in them, but the ambiance of this line was unlike anything we'd ever seen in a public transportation system.

Skeppsholm is an island, like most of Stockholm. Coming up out of the subway, a scenic walk across the Skeppsholm bridge got us to the museum. The boat in the background is the af Chapman, a permanently moored sailing ship that is a youth hostel.

At the end of this fine day, we visited a konditeri for one last bit of fika. As always, the pastries were works of art, and the coffee carried a kick.

Rush hour was on its way to Stockholm, so we hopped another subway train back to the hotel, and packed it up.

Next up, back to Cousin Tommy and Maria in Lund, then home to Seattle!

Heading back to Stockholm's Gamla Stan (Old Town) was a great idea. Monika and I walked up and down just about every little street in this area, stopping into small shops, noticing little details and watching people.

One shop that was incredible was a thrift store in the cellar of a centuries-old building. We descended two flights of granite stairs into the most wonderfully claustrophobic space I have ever seen. I couldn't stand up straight because I kept clocking my head, and we had to navigate the shop walking sideways.

Looking back up the narrow staircase, we were greeted by the shop dog. "He catches all the rats", the cigar-smoking owner informed us.

At the top of Gamla Stan sits the Royal Palace. This structure is massive, and houses museums, royal offices and is used for representative purposes by the royal family.

Around its perimeter are individual guard houses, with a member of the Royal Guard standing watch. At first glance it would seem that these guards are largely ceremonial; after all, the palace is massive. Then I noticed the menacing weapons.

As we stood looking at the enormous facade of the palace, another guard was making the rounds, checking in with each stationary guard. We took him to be a senior officer, although we couldn't figure out what rank his dog was.

At the end of the day, we headed back down the hill to the subway station, snapping pics of Gamla Stan the whole way...

Upon leaving Piteå, we had a choice: we could either drive leisurely and explore as we had on our way up, or head straight down and spend some more time in Stockholm.

We chose to head straight to Stockholm, but the trip back was not without its unique scenery. We stopped alongside the highway several times; plants that were nowhere to be seen just a few weeks ago were suddenly in bloom.

At one point, on an otherwise deserted stretch of highway, we encountered this giant granite sculpture by Claes Hake:

When we reached the Höga Kusten Bridge, where we had stopped on our way north, we decided to give the hotel a try. That was a great idea. Every room boasts a view of the bridge - here was ours:

After a sound sleep, we decided to make a beeline for Uppsala. This would be a full day of driving, so we didn't stop much, unless Monika saw flowers, of course.

We reached Uppsala tired and thirsty, so we checked into a room, and wandered out in search of a beer. Having found a sidewalk cafe, we sat back and took stock of things; our trip to Sweden would be ending soon, and we were having a beautiful time. Monika and I raised our glasses to each other, toasted, and drank. That's when seemingly millions of birds took off from every rooftop in the city and swarmed over us.

Choosing to see this as a good omen for the next day's drive to Stockholm, we slept well.

Returning the rental car was a simple as it could be; all we had to do was take a fast train from the airport into the city, switch to the subway line that went back to our hotel, and that was it.

We had returned to where the blue-eyed crows eat salads. We were back in Stockholm.

Our last day in Piteå was Midsommar, the most important holiday in Sweden. We had the best seat in the house, as Midsommar festivities took place at Badhusparken, where we were staying.

Monika had collected seven different kinds of flowers. Tradition says that putting these under your pillow on Midsommar will make you dream of a loved one.

The customs and rituals performed on this day include the raising of a majstång (maypole), which is decorated with greenery and escorted to its installation point by musicians and dancers in traditional dress. This was a fine day for the children, who were fascinated by the hole that had been dug for the pole.

With great fanfare and dancing, the majstång was lowered into its resting place.

Then came the best part: Sma Grodorna! Everyone, children and adults alike, dances around the pole, imitating a frog. As the lyrics to the song describe all the funny parts of a frog (ears, tail, etc.), everyone imitates a frog. Yeah, I don't quite get it, either, but it was sure fun to watch.

When the ceremony was over, everyone headed home. Monika and I were told that the raucous Midsommar celebrations would go on all night around the country; apparently, on this, the longest day of the year, when the sun barely sets, many people drink themselves silly and eat too much.

We figured this might be a gross exaggeration, but who knows - isn't there always a bit of truth to these things? Here's a great German IKEA ad that parodies Swedish Midsommar; I guess someone in Sweden took exception, as the ad was pulled:

In any event, it was a beautiful day that has been taking place in Sweden for thousands of years, and we loved taking part in it.

Up into the mountains we drove. Leif and his brother Lars were taking us to Storforsen, one of the largest rapids in all of Europe. Aunt Gun came along, as well as Lars' wife Helena and their daughter Julia.

Storforsen is part of the Piteå River, and the rapids themselves are frighteningly forceful, especially when seen close up. Many parts of the trail that runs alongside the water are safely behind fences. At other points there is nothing between you and close to 3000 cubic feet of water per second. It's quite a feeling to stand on a slippery rock, listening to the roar of the water, getting sprayed in the face, and wondering how long a person might expect to live if he fell in...

Just off this main trail, however, things became much quieter and more serene. You could hear yourself think again, the trees were thriving in the mist, and the lichen created beautiful patterns on the rocks.

Storforsen, literally "strong falls", drops about 270 feet over its 3 miles length, and we had explored much of it. So, we sat for a spell and watched Gun expertly slice some reindeer jerky with the Lapp knife she had just helped me buy; she was born and raised in Lappland, and had pronounced it "a good knife". Good enough for me...

A lot of sun, a lot of water, a completely memorable day.

This is our good friend and Monika's relative, Ann-Mari:

And this is Ann-Mari's family:

While gathered one fine day for her grand-daughter Linnea's confirmation, we got to talking about traditional Swedish food; especially those classics from the north: pitepalt and surströmming. We wanted to taste both of these unique dishes but our time in Pitea was running short.

In short order, Ann-Mari had organized everything; she would make the pitepalt, and Cousin Barbro and Bengt would prepare the surströmming.

We arrived at Barbro and Bengt's house on a perfect summer's day, and retired to the patio. The breeze was light, as was the mood.

First came the pitepalt. This dish, which originates in Piteå, is made with grated potatoes, a perfect balance of rye and white flour and salt pork. The ingredients are molded together into a ball roughly the size of a small automobile and gently cooked in water for nearly an hour. Put lingonberries and butter on top, pour yourself a glass of milk, and you're ready.

So, how was it? Absolutely delicious! This is comfort food on a grand scale; a pitepalt meal makes any place seem like home.

We felt fortified, and we would need the courage. Next up was the real challenge: bring on the surströmming!

Surströmming is fermented fish.

Yup, you read that right. Here's how it's made: Herring is placed in barrels of brine for a few months. Then it is packed in cans, where the anaerobic decomposition process continues for up to a year, before being sold.

At this point the pressure inside the can is so great that it bulges; many airlines even prohibit the transport of surströmming as an onboard hazard. To this end, Barbro and Bengt put the can we were to eat inside a plastic bag, as it tends to explode when opened, and you really don't want to get fermented fish juice all over yourself. The aroma is remarkable; this is food best eaten outdoors.

Here's how you eat surströmming. You put chopped raw onions and diced, cooked potatoes on a piece of thin, crispbread. After you've cut open and deboned your fish, you place it on the bread, as well.

So, how does it taste? This is an acquired taste; you either love it or you hate it. Monika braced herself...and loved it! I was, uh, ambivalent. Bengt was prepared for this reaction, however, and suggested we have plenty of aquavit on hand to help things along. My hero...

An encouraging thing is happening in the world. Old buildings are being given a second life. In Seattle, Amazon.com makes its home in a former veterans hospital, while here in Piteå, the Furunaset Mental Hospital has been converted; it is now called the Furunaset Hotel and Conference Center.

It was important to me to make the pilgrimage to this monumental, erstwhile container of suffering now transformed. Built in the 1890s, Furunaset was a closed world; patients and personnel alike were sequestered from the outside world. Watchmen in guardhouses insured against both escape and entrance (very few outsiders were allowed in). Those who attempted to gain access without prior authorization were subject to arrest and jail sentences; there must have been significant concern over what the public might see.

This gigantic facility warehoused patients from all over Sweden and Finland. Perhaps the staff did what they could to reduce suffering, but enlightened treatment and effective medications were lacking; in its time, Furunaset was undoubtedly a horrible fate for many people.

My Aunt Bojan spent many years of her life at the Furunaset Mental Hospital. In her early teens she was bright and intelligent, but severe epileptic seizures made it impossible for her family to care for her.

Like many others, Bojan was (mis)placed at Furunaset, the only long-term care facility at that time. Though she was not mentally ill when she first came to Furunaset, the place took its toll on her. Housed in close quarters with the extremely disturbed, she struggled to make meaning of the lot she had been dealt. Years of electric shock treatments and inappropriate medications made dramatic changes in her personality. The stigma of epilepsy (and of Furunaset itself) was strong in those days; some friends and family members stopped visiting and never spoke of her. The few faithful were allowed supervised visits, outside the facility, by a small garden pool.

As I sat in one of the new Furunaset's restaurants, I wondered who had sat in my place, long ago. When I walked the halls of commerce, I noted the original stone floors, complete with indentions, worn down by repetitive foot traffic.

At the nearby docks, where patients once arrived by boat from all over Sweden, children were now launching canoes. The potato fields, once tended by patients who could manage manual work, had become parking lots. Birds chirped as the sun emerged brilliant, shining on every wet surface.

A bicyclist flew by near the institution's cemetery, a final resting place to over one thousand patients. As I approached the small garden pool, I was moved by intense childhood memories: Bojan's powerful hugs, the way she held our faces as she spoke to us, the small gifts wrapped in newspaper (I still have the small ceramic shoe she gave me when I was a girl).

Days later, I was able to spend time with Inger Johannesson. A deep and lovely woman, she cared for my aunt for many years, and in the process became Bojan's truest friend.

They met when Furunaset was closed and Bojan was moved to a better care center. Less confined and with improved medications, Bojan's life began to transform. A warm and funny woman possessing ironic wit and expressing gleeful joy emerged.

Have you ever been simultaneously stunned and enlightened by someone with a distinctly different perspective? While some described Bojan's life as a tragedy, Inger knew better her inner strength, her survival skills, her determination and the tenacity of her spirit. It was Inger who felt Bojan's gratitude and witnessed her resilience. She deeply understood her joy and her heartbreak, her triumphs and her disappointments, her faith and her forgiveness. When Bojan died two years ago, it was Inger who had stayed close.

Inger shared many poignant stories with me, but I was particularly struck by this one. On their annual vacations to the shore in Skåne, they would stay in a hotel. Many times a day, Bojan would express her sheer delight that the front doors of the hotel were never locked, that she could take as many showers as she so desired, and that she could spend an entire day just smelling flowers if she wanted.

Many thanks to Ann-Mari, who accompanied me to Furunaset, and to Inger, who told me the stories I needed to hear.

-Monika

One day, I told Cousin Leif that I would like to see real reindeer, but didn't know where to go. In yet another demonstration of how many people he knows in Piteå, the next day found us on our way to the edge of town to meet Christer Sjömark, who happens to keep reindeer on his property.

Reindeer are very shy creatures, and prefer to stay away from people. This is just what Christer's reindeer did when we approached. Except this guy. "He's curious," Christer said.

As we stood in the meadow and watched the reindeer wander around (at a safe distance from us), Christer told Leif and I everything you could ever want to know about these marvelous creatures; for instance, why they look so patchy right now. It's because they're molting for the summer.

All reindeer have horns, and they fall off every year. When they do, Christer gathers them up and puts them in the barn, perhaps for later craft projects.

As he graciously invited us into his home for coffee, I noticed the knife on Christer's belt. "It's a Lapp knife," he said, pointing to the wall where he hangs his others. He then told us about the importance of these traditional tools in Lapp culture. They are made with reindeer horn and skin, and the blades are incredibly tough. The Lapps depend on them for hunting, eating, even chopping down trees.

As well, they use the knives to identify their reindeer; a unique mark is cut into the animal's ear. Christer showed us a book of drawings of such marks.

I enjoyed our time with Christer immensely; I could ask him questions all day long, and would be happy to hear his stories even longer than that. We left him where we found him, sitting on his porch with his dogs, looking happy.

Cousin Stig and his family had an idea. They wanted to take us out on their boat into the Gulf of Bothnia. We'd make a slow, relaxing day of it, and see the sights. Excellent!!

The weather not only cooperated, but it was astoundingly good. The water in the gulf appears dead-black, making it somewhat intimidating (i can only imagine it in the winter). The sun doesn't penetrate it, so the water acts as a mirror. This combination of black and blue is hypnotizing.

Ah, the glittering light, the sounds of lapping water and happy girls, the smell of the sea and the vibrations of a humming motor. We now understand why people come to love boating so much. It can, and does, transport a person directly to "the center of calm." This family needs no stuga, as they love life on the water - all summer long!

The air was warm, the breeze was light, and Stig had set a course for Hällskär, where the Lidman and Nystrom clans have made their mark, literally, for 81 years. These smooth surfaces have been the bedrock for lighthearted family picnics for generations.

What truly amazed me was to see the family record engraved in the rock, starting with Monika's grandparents - in 1927.

Here is Monika's Uncle Signar (Stig's father) carving Monika's name in 1952 - when she was just two years old.

She's been back several times over the years, and it was my pleasure to be able to add this year's date to her others, albeit with a crowbar and nail punch :)

I could see the memories on Monika's face as she sat on a rock and looked out over the water...

Ewa, Sandra and Sofia had prepared a marvelous fika feast, which went perfectly with the good cheer and laughs we were sharing.

Monika and I were so enjoying this day: the family, the weather, the food, the stories. We couldn't imagine how it could be a happier occasion, unless we all ran around in clown noses, or something...

Cousin Stig and Ewa, along with their girls Sandra and Sofia, made for us a day we will never forget. A happier family is seldom seen, and we salute you!

A cultural phenomenon we've noticed in Sweden is the stuga. Roughly translated, it means "cabin". Many such structures began as family homesteads, and were passed down through generations. As industrialization came to Sweden, and people moved to the cities, these stugas were kept as summer homes.

The Swedes have a great love of the outdoors, and these days stugas are being built all over Sweden. Cousin Janne and Aunt Elsy were kind enough to invite us out to their stuga for a relaxing day of sunshine and water.

Janne and Elsy's stugas are situated just outside Piteå, in the woods along a lake; a great place to get some sun, especially if you're a whippet in a lawn chair or a collie out for a stroll.

To our delight, Elsy had prepared an amazing salmon dinner for us inside Janne's stuga; he and Eivor's kids even drove down from Luleå for the occasion.

One feature of this particular stuga that must be great on wonderful summer nights is an outdoor sink for doing dishes. Available light isn't a problem, on account of the midnight sun and all...

After a brief soccer match with the dog, it was time for a spin around the lake in Janne's boat.

As we tooled around the various inlets and islands, it was easy to see why Janne goes to the stuga every chance he gets; he and Eivor prefer it hands-down to their apartment in town.

Monika and I left refreshed and relaxed, having enjoyed a little slice of the stuga life.

Bölebyns Garveri is a tannery in Piteå. We visited expecting to see leather goods. What we got was so much more than that.

We were greeted by Jan Sandlund, the proprietor. The business was started by his grandfather, and passed down to him, eventually. Jan was a psychologist for some 25 years. "I was in the business of healing souls," he told us. "Eventually I came back to the tannery; I started on the inside and now I'm working my way to the outside." A philospher/tanner, to be sure.

Jan took us into the tannery, where he explained to us that no chemicals have ever been used on their leather. They tan hides with birch bark and water from the Piteå River - nothing else. In fact, the water in these vats hasn't been changed since 1918, which is part of what gives the leather its special color:

The smell inside the tannery was amazing; the scent of wet birch bark was everywhere. We were amazed to find out that Bölebyns Garveri is one of only three tanneries in Europe that use only bark and water; they are the only one in the world that uses birch bark.

So, how was the leather? One thing that stood out immediately was the understatement of the goods produced. Jan and his workers take great pride in the quality of their work, and it shows. In fact, they have earned the distinction of being an official Purveyor to the King of Sweden

Jan is no mere craftsman, we learned. He often makes sculptures out of leather, like this wonderfully spooky foot:

As well, Jan and his craftsman will make anything you want out of leather. Forget that Coach wallet - if you want something truly unique, get it at Bölebyns Garveri. As for myself, I'll be designing a guitar strap when I get home...

Aside from programming events at the Badhusparken, Cousin Leif has a real passion for the history and culture of Piteå; it seemed to us like he knew everyone and everything associated with the town. So when he told us he had talked to a few people and arranged for us to see some sites, we were naturally quite excited.

The first stop was the Piteå Museum, where we were introduced to Jonas Lundmark, the museum's director. Being a small institution, Jonas doubles as the exhibition designer; we caught him in the middle of installing a new show.

The Piteå Museum displays many objects related to the history of the town, as well as exhibiting contemporary work by local artists. Among the displays that caught our attention was this model of Piteå from 1898. It fills a large room, and once I started zooming in on details, I couldn't stop.

And this must be the coolest work table I've ever seen:

Before leaving, Leif introduced us to Catharina Westling, the museum's registrar. After disappearing for a few minutes, she came back with a box of photographs of Monika's Uncle Torsten in his verkstad - the images had been exhibited alongside samples of his work. She graciously asked us if we would like to choose some to take with us; a few of these appear in my previous post on this blog.

Next up was the Studio Acusticum at the Piteå School of Music. This new auditorium was designed to be as acoustically diverse as possible. Whether the aim is live performance or recorded music, the space is made to respond.

The entire ceiling, with its hanging sound reflectors, can be lowered. The walls are made of faceted concrete, made to scatter sound vibrations.

And if the space still sounds too roomy, a series of heavy felt baffles are hidden along the walls, both upstairs and down; they can be lowered individually until the room is whisper quiet. Mostly, though, Monika and I were struck by the beauty of the place. Although it seats about 600 people, there didn't appear to be a bad seat in the house.

Our last stop was Swensbylijda, a restoration of an 18-19th century part of rural Piteå.

The town's livelihood depended on a small stream that powered an even smaller mill. We watched the water run underneath this building, and wandered throughout the other working structures and houses. While amazed at the ingenuity and enterprise of the people who lived here, we were equally sobered by the realization of just how hard life must have been.

In one fell swoop, Leif had shown us a bit of the past, present and future of Piteå. As we drove back into town, the images of what we had seen still fresh in my mind, I wondered: what next?

Monika's mother Ulla grew up in Piteå, in a small house in the Pitholm neighborhood.

photo courtesy Jenny Bohman and Pelle Boström

Also on the property was a large workshop, a verkstad. Monika's grandfather and uncles worked there, as machinists and woodworkers; they made everything from architectural models, to furniture, to artists sculptures, to boats - if you could draw it, they would make it for you. Monika's uncle Signar even invented and designed a line of wood and metal machines, such as this lathe, still in use in Cousin Tommy's verkstad in Lund:

More than a mere workshop, however, the verkstad was the center of an active social life for everyone in the neighborhood. Haircuts were given, stories were told. And there was always fresh coffee in the pot. This is where, to Monika and many others, the idea of creating where you live and living where you create first took hold.

photo courtesy Jenny Bohman and Pelle Boström

One person in particular came to be associated most closely with the spirit of the verkstad. In Monika's words:

"I come from a family of makers. The appreciation for skilled craft has influenced and shaped me more than anything. I watched many sets of sure hands shaping things before beginning my own life as a maker. But it was my Uncle Torsten Nystrom, my mother's brother, who most amazed and inspired me.

My most treasured memories took place in and around the verkstad in Piteå where he spent his entire life shaping ideas into tangible, functioning form and dramatically affecting those who were lucky enough to have known him; he was a visionary in a sawmill.

To this day, whenever I smell sawdust or linseed oil I immediately think of him, pointing out the constellations in the nighttime sky with his missing finger, or showing me how to build innovative sculptures in the woodpile.

Torsten revealed (to many) a world of expansive ideas. How deluxe to sit at the elbow of one with such humor and intelligence, while he drew tunnels under oceans and a hydrocopter to take him across ice and water!

How incredible to return to the place where it all began..."

Photo: Mats Widgren. © Piteå Museum

Cousin Bo lives next door to the verkstad, and made the introduction to Jenny and Pelle, the current owners of the property.

Jenny and Pelle graciously allowed us into the verkstad to take photos. Most of the equipment and tools now enjoy continued use in other family members' verkstads, and all the wood is gone, but the rest of the place appeared much as Torsten had left it when he took ill.

"It's as if he just stepped out, and will be back soon," Monika said. His stack of signs was even sitting by the door. Torsten kept scraps of wood handy to leave notes for anyone wondering where he went. This one says, "Today, the forest"

As we explored further, we found scores of drawings, plans and photographs of things Torsten had made. It was easy to see why the neighborhood children were so drawn to the verkstad. Here is a photo of a car Torsten made for some lucky kid:

And anyone who wanted one got a cutout animal to take home and paint. These were made for Jenny, who grew up in Piteå. She still has them in the house:

Monika has spoken with many people who both worked with Torsten and who grew up around the verkstad. Many great stories have emerged.

One woman remembers Torsten yelling to a group of children, "God in heaven, come here! I have something very exciting to show you!" When the kids came running to the verkstad, he said excitedly, "Do you know what a soccer ball is made out of?" When noone could answer, he put the ball on the band saw and cut it open so they could all look inside.

And of course, everyone remembers the hydrocopter, a vessel with a huge propeller, like the air boats used to navigate the Everglades in Florida. Torsten's ran on an old Volkswagen engine, was made out of wood and had runners on it so he could travel across the ice in winter.

Torsten has been gone for 10 years now, and the verkstad will soon come down as Jenny and Pelle make room for the new house they are building. It's nice to know, though, that his memory is safe with them and everyone else he ever knew.

Photo: Mats Widgren. © Piteå Museum

We started our stint in Piteå by getting lost; Cousin Leif had to come get us and we followed him into town.

Leif had arranged for us to stay at the Piteå Vandrarhem (wanderer's home), situated in Badhusparken (bath house park), for which he runs all the cultural programming. Conveniently, his office is also in the Vandrarhem, so we would be seeing a lot of Leif.

The vandrarhem is built in what was Piteå's first hospital. As such, the hallways are lined with medical equipment original to the building, photographs and other displays. Each room is named after a doctor who once worked there.

We settled in and took a stroll around the town before calling it a night. A very long night. It was studenten (graduation) night in Piteå. And the park was hopping all night long with drunken teens singing some sort of song that has a lot of "la la la's" in it. And it was happening right outside our window.

After a while, when we realized we wouldn't be sleeping very much, we sat outside on the front steps of the vandrarhem and watched the stumbling, singing, studenten Swedes. At one point Monika told a kid he couldn't come inside to use the restroom. "Where on earth will we urinate," he said plaintively, "if not in your wanderer's home?..." I thought I was going to wet my own pants, laughing.

The next day, after a few hours sleep, the park was once more very active. As it turns out, it was Swedish National Day, and Leif had planned all kinds of activities in Badhusparken.

Having witnessed dog agility contests firsthand, I thought I knew what was coming when a group of people set up a course in the park. The hurdles were small, so I figured only the small dogs would be competing. How wrong I was. Welcome to rabbit agility, a sport begun in the 1970s in Sweden.

Once we wrapped our heads around that one, we strolled through the crowds. There were people in traditional clothing, clowns for the kids, concession stands - even Pippi Longstocking was there.

Throughout all of this, live band after live band played to the ever-increasing audience. Finally, around 9PM or so, the headliner took the stage. Ladies and gentleman....Nordman!

Yeah, Monika and I had never heard of them, either. But they are quite famous in Sweden, the crowd went nuts, and they were very entertaining. Their latest video should give you an idea of what they do:

The next day was loppis (flea market) in the park. The paths were lined with people selling and shopping. It turns out this happens every week at the Badhusparken; there's nothing like a good loppis to get you out of bed in the morning.

Monika has stayed in touch with all of her family in Piteå; we were happy to see so many of them at the loppis, where they had gathered to welcome us to Piteå. We had fika, I was introduced all around, and Monika was beaming.

And those were our first days in Piteå.

As we continued north along the coast, the highway wound its way through valleys and fjords, any of which makes a serene place to stop for an impromptu picnic.

It's in this serene atmosphere that we were taken by surprise when we saw a giant cheese slicer in a field just off the highway

We had stumbled upon The Kingdom of Cheese, home of Ostens Lager, maker of Västerbotten Cheese, known as "the emperor of cheeses". We learned that tours were available, so we rushed to the factory, but it hadn't opened for the season yet.

Too bad - I was kinda excited to see that

We reached Luleå at a beautiful time of day, and met with Cousin Caroline and Håkon, with whom we would stay the night.

As the capital of Swedish Lapland, Luleå is primarily a university town, but its harbor is equally important as the main shipping port for iron ore mined inland. Walking along the waterfront after dinner, we learned that Luleå is home to four of Sweden's icebreaking vessels: Oden, Frej, Ymer and Atle

Each vessel runs on five V12 engines, ranging from 5000-6250 horsepower each. As well, they carry a set of 2500-watt lights - bright enough to read a newspaper from almost 7 miles away.

As the midnight sun made its dip toward the horizon, and we made our way back to Caroline and Håkon's, the light became surreal

By the time we settled down for bed, however, the sun was starting to rise again. I decided to sleep on the balcony, just to see what that would be like. Monika snapped this picture of me some time around 3AM. Something about that midnight sun fascinates me...

The next day, after sitting in the sun and enjoying a leisurely meal with Caroline, we hit the road - this time heading a little bit south. We were set to visit Cousin Iva in Skellefteå

As I've mentioned in earlier posts, fika is taken quite seriously in Sweden; it is anything but an average coffee break. Iva had been baking in anticipation of our arrival - this was truly a fika to remember

While Monika and Iva caught up, I decided to explore the town a little bit. Of course, my internal guitar radar led me to a guitar shop, where I met Salle, a proud butt-rocker (as we say in The States). Besides managing the shop, Salle has also designed his own guitar line, the flagship of which is The Lucifer. He told me that his goal was to make the most evil guitar ever. Amen to that, brother...

Continuing my walkabout, I meandered into the public square, where I grabbed a sandwich from a street vendor. Can you guess what I bought?

That's right - ham & ost (cheese)

Also, in the square was a small fountain with some public art in it. I've seen some phallic art in my time, but I don't recall anything this...uh...obvious...

As we packed the car and prepared to say goodbye to Skellefteå, we noticed that, as in cities all over Sweden this time of year, studenten was taking place here, as well. While in Stockholm the graduates ride around town in large trucks, Skellefteå students appear to prefer cages on the back of tractors.

The days were getting longer, and we were heading north again. Next stop, the home of Monika's family: Piteå!

From Gamla Uppsala we continued north, driving along the coast. When we hit Sundsvall we stopped for the night. This port city, chartered in 1621, sits at 62° north of the equator (Seattle is at 47°). What really drove home our location, though, was the view out our hotel window at 2AM

Sundsvall and fire? A little bit of a problem. The city has burned to the ground four times. After the last fire, in 1888, they decided that all buildings would be made of brick. Good idea. And lovely to look at

From Sundsvall we continued north into Sweden's Höga Kusten (High Coast), so named because the land is elevated. We entered the High Coast across the High Coast Bridge; at 6,000 feet long, it is itself a spectacular experience.

When we stopped on the far side to take pictures, we learned a little more about why the High Coast is, well, "high". Ever hear of "isostasy"? Me neither. Here's how it works:

1. Massive glaciers crush and grind and compress the land, flattening it.
2. Over tens of thousands of years, the ice melts.
3. As the ice melts, the land rises up to where it started.

Nowhere else on earth has the land risen up so far after the Ice Age as the High Coast, and it continues to rise. Walking around the hills, we could imagine the force of all that ice as we looked at the scarring on the boulders

The town of Docksta was recommended as a beautiful place to take a dip in a lake, so we headed towards it. We were not disappointed; it is quite tranquil and very relaxing.

We had covered an awful lot of ground, and needed to refuel the car. Stopping at a gas station in Örnsköldsvik, we couldn't help notice the gigantic ski jump coming down the hill and ending just a few feet from where we stood. It even goes underneath the train tracks

We had to investigate this further. I climbed onto the track, or course, or field, or whatever you call a ski jump landing area. It was covered with very thick, layered plastic; jumping up and down on it, I noticed it was very pliant. It turns out this surface is used in the summer for ski jump practice; in fact, the Swedish national team is training here for the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver, Canada

From Örnsköldsvik we pushed on and landed in Umeå for the night. This is a two-university town, with an emphasis on medicine; even the concierge at our hotel was just finishing up med school. There is a lively square in the middle of the city, where you can sit and eat a little something, whether it's korv and mashed potatos, fine baked goods, or even...ice cream

We were impressed by this, the biggest city in the province of Norrland. Even the parking garage was charming, having been painted to look like the outdoors

We packed up the car and heading to the hotel dining room where, once again, we were reminded what we like about Swedish breakfast: everything!

Next up: the drive north continues...

Each day I say to John, "Thank you for taking me to Sweden today." As memories accumulate, I see that I will continue this practice for as long as we live...

On this particular day, I felt acutely aware of this "as long as we live" sentiment. In the setting of Gamla Uppsala, the concept of time was curious, confounding and moving. The history of this place, with origins as a pagan cult center in the 3rd century A.D., can give a person pause. We are here on earth for such a very short time - only the blink of an eye in the larger scheme of things. We were struck by this thought as we stood on the same rotating/orbiting piece of land as this poignant archeological "belief" site.

The sun was strong and the scent of lilacs was everywhere. John and I walked hand-in-hand along and between a few of the massive, ancient burial mounds.

As we wound our way along a crunchy path, the sheer scale of things astounded me. These gigantic mounds engulfed and embraced us, while dwarfing the figures picnicking on their highest reaches.

Breezes lifted and scattered dandelion seeds above the flowers, and caused birch leaves to shimmer and shine through optical waves of heat.

On such a pleasant day, the harsh history of Gamla Uppsala seemed inconceivable. We looked out over a field thought to be where brutal pagan rituals occurred at nine-year intervals: one male of every living creature, including humans, was killed and hung in the trees as a scarifice to the Norse Gods Thor, Odin and Frey.

While under my feet lay deep history, all around me swirled the details of the present day. As we finished our trek, the sound of bells thundered from the church, built in the 11th century, announcing the marriage of some happy pair beginning a life together.

My shirt was damp with sweat, a busload of cranky German tourists pulled out of the parking lot, my dear mate made me laugh as he sat on a birch pole, a child dropped a pacifier in the dirt.

I closed my eyes, took a slow sip of water and smiled. In that moment in time, I felt alive, alive, alive...

-Monika

In the US, gasoline prices are reaching record highs. The same is true in Sweden, although their gas has always been more expensive than ours. Headlines abound: "Gasoline will cost even more this summer"

Maybe the cost disparity has to do with the quality of the roads. Monika and I have noticed with wonder just how good the highways are in Sweden. Given the very, very remote places the roads lead, this is especially remarkable.

No matter how far afield we've driven, the roads are smooth and the signage is clear; in fact, the quality of the signs in Sweden makes it very difficult to get lost (once you figure out what the signs actually mean, of course)

We've rented two cars so far, both of them manual transmission. I'd like to say that this is because I know that manual cars are more efficient, or that I'm a super-badass stick driver, or something. Sadly, neither of these is the case. It seems that the majority of rental cars in Sweden are manual. Fine by Monika and I; we do well enough

As for gas, here's the breakdown in Sweden. I'll spare you the anguish of converting from liters to gallons, Swedish crowns to dollars. Simple math, I know, but my head still hurts.

Regular gas works out to about $8.70 per gallon in Sweden. Still feel bad about driving to the beach this weekend?...

Fortunately for us, we learned something very interesting when we rented our second car. Some vehicles can take E85 (Ethanol) fuel as well as regular gas. Not only that, but E85-capable cars are exempt from many municipal road tolls, like those across some of the bridges in Stockholm.

The cost of E85? $5.23 per gallon. Much better than the cost of regular, especially if you plan to drive the whole length of Sweden...

Our last full day in Stockholm was spent further exploring the neighborhood our hotel was in, Södermalm.

Södermalm is a relaxed, laid back area, with lots of quirky little shops and coffee houses. We enjoyed winding our way through the streets and taking in the artsy vibe of the neighborhood

Even the corner shops had a unique quality that we enjoyed photographing

Then it happened. We stumbled upon Twang, a vintage guitar shop. Jörgen Wickholm is the owner, and he is a great guy. He graciously spent time with me, answering my questions about the difference between the vintage guitar markets in the US and Sweden. His shop is small, but it has great character, and the variety of guitars is choice.

Monika has been in an awful lot of small guitar shops with me, so she is very used to their character. But she was extra impressed with Twang's bathroom. "That must be the cleanest bathroom I've ever seen in a guitar shop!" she told Jörgen. "You're lucky," he replied, "we just cleaned it today." We all laughed, as he went on to joke that they clean the restroom every few weeks, whether it needs it or not. At least, I think he was joking...

Before going on our way, I gave Jörgen a rock sticker, which he stuck on the wall near the front window. Excellent...

We ambled along some more side streets, with only a general sense of where we wanted to go. We examined this mail carrier's bike for a few minutes, and took a few pictures. Question: how do you know you're a tourist in Stockholm? Answer: you're the only one who looks twice at a mail carrier's bicycle

Monika decided to poke around on her own for a few minutes while I looked into another guitar shop. Halkan's is the oldest vintage guitar shop in Stockholm, and their walls were packed with guitars. They also have a thriving repair business; the guys in the shop didn't stop working the whole time I spoke with them

One of these guys, Jan Hallquisth, told me something interesting. He said that vintage guitars may actually be easier to find in Sweden than many other European countries, as it was a relatively rich nation after WWII and could perhaps better afford things like American guitars. He then pointed me around the corner to Hellstone Music, and continued working on a guitar.

Sven Hellsten is the proprietor of Hellstone Music, and he and I enjoyed a great conversation. Sven is very friendly; here he is with a rock sticker, which he then stuck on his back wall, which is made of sparkly green vinyl

Before hooking back up with Monika, I went up the street to the last guitar shop I was to see in Stockholm

I don't recall the name of the shop, but it is owned by The Cardigans Peter Svensson & The Hives Vigilante Carlstroem. I had a great talk with Andre, who was behind the counter, and he was kind enough to give me one of his CDs

By this time, the shadows were getting longer, so we headed back to the hotel to gather our things and head out. But not before we noticed these little creatures sitting in the shade

And with their glowing eyes still fresh in our minds, we moved on.

Next up, the land of the midnight sun...

This is Cousin Hannes. He has just graduated from high school ("gymnasium") in Nacka, a suburb of Stockholm. I was pleased to attend. Here's how a Swedish high school graduation ("studenten") works:

First, all the families gather in a massive common area. Each group sports a sign with a photo of their graduate as a child. The graduate does not usually know what photo their family has chosen.

I am with Cousin Bitte and Per, who are Hannes' parents. Per eagerly awaits his son

Swedish high schools are divided into classes, each class having specialized in a subject. There are all the subjects you might expect, like science, art, math. As well, there are vocational studies. Each class runs onto an elevated stage, where they jump up and down, scream, sing, shout and wave to the assembled crowd for about a minute.

No speeches, no diplomas, no teachers shaking hands. The class leaves the stage and makes their way through the crowd to their families, as the next class takes the stage. about 30 classes in 30 minutes, and it's over.

It's a proud day for Cousin Bitte, Per and sister Felicia

Moster Gerd is especially happy to have been here for her grandson's studenten

The hat each graduate wears is the equivalent of a mortarboard in the US; it is embroidered with their name and their class. Class mates will also write inside each other's hats. Cousin Tommy, up from Lund for the occasion, wore his cap from his college days; his daughter Caroline, down from Luleå, wore hers, as well.

Next, the graduates move to an enormous parking lot, where they have rented heavy-duty industrial trucks to drive through the streets of Stockholm, while they spray each other with beer, dance, shout, whoop, holler and - you get the picture.

Back at Bitte and Per's house, a large group of family and well-wishers has assembled and the champagne glasses are ready. So, we ate and drank and visited for a while.

Soon enough, and in a fresh black suit, the man of the hour showed up. A good day with great people. Congratulations, Hannes!

Djurgården is another one of Stockholm's neighborhoods. A short walk across a scenic bridge gets you to this small island on which sits an assortment of museums, parks and zoos.

We had come to see the Vasa Museum, in which is housed The Vasa, a Swedish warship from 1628 that sank in the harbor on its maiden voyage. It was raised in the 1960s, repaired and put on display. Here is a model of the ship as it would have looked, with the actual ship looming behind it

The Vasa was amazingly intact when it was raised from the harbor, because of a combination of the cold water in the harbor and the historically polluted condition of the water, which prevented the growth of bacteria that would have destroyed the wood.

Once conservation began, the ship's wood was sprayed with polyethylene glycol for 17 years, and allowed to dry for 9. This is what gives the ship its waxy look.

When The Vasa was built, the intention was for it to be the most fearsome, intimidating warship on the seas. To this end, the entire ship was ornamented with incredibly detailed carvings, all of which would have originally been painted in bright colors

Experts were brought in to oversee every aspect of The Vasa's historical restoration. Most impressive was the rigging, which is very complicated, and was done with handmade hemp rope

Despite shipbuilding conventions of the time, King Gustavus Adolphus insisted on two gun decks and twice the number of cannon than was practical. The Vasa did not have room for enough ballast to counter the top-heaviness these cannon gave it; the ship simply could not stay upright, and toppled in a light breeze in the harbor. None of the king's men had the courage to warn him against this engineering mistake. Maybe this is why an offical inquest ultimately placed no blame on anyone...

Several people went down with the ship, and their bodies were recovered when the vessel was raised. From these persons, the museum was able to determine more about Swedish life in the 17th century. Clothing and shoes were found intact, board games, even some butter remained.

What made quite an impression on Monika and I, however, was the osteological work done by the museum. Based on measurements taken from skulls found in the ship, several faces were reconstructed. Clues gathered by analyzing the entire skeleton provided information about age, gender and diet. The results were startlingly life-like

Before we knew it, half a day had gone by. Truly, The Vasa Museum was fascinating. Make sure to look at their website to read more about The Vasa, including the incredible work that was done to get her out of the water after more than 300 years.

We took Stockholm's subway, the T-Bana, into the city's center. This area is called "City". Go figure. All buses, trains, light rail and subway lines go to City, and converge at Centralen. This is perhaps the most dense area in all of Stockholm.

While most of City is perfectly picturesque, we found Centralen to be a shopping mall on steroids. There were shopping malls across the street from shopping malls. In fact, entire blocks were filled with nothing but malls and department stores. So, we went into Nordiska Kompaniet, one of the oldest department stores in Stockholm. And what did I do? I bought a new suit. I guess I was hypnotized by the trendy Euro-styling, or something. Anyway, Christopher at Tiger of Sweden was very helpful; he got me all set up. Now I can retire my worn out black suit at home.

Once you leave the shopping hell of Centralen, there are lots of quieter little side streets to walk down and squares to sit in. And of course there is plenty of sculpture to look at, although it does seem that some Stockholm citizens take a more whimsical view of their historical figures:

Monika and I quite enjoyed winding our way through these streets, taking note of the small things that make up the character of any city one visits.

For lunch, we found Östermalms Saluhall, an indoor market built in 1888. What an amazing place to buy a sandwich!

And if you like baked goods, some of the best you'll find are at the Saluhall

After lunch, we continued to walk City, impressed as ever by the sculpture and the architecture

Of course, by this time fika was upon us, and we wanted to try one of the fancier places. We found the Wienerkonditoriet, and were not disappointed. Coffee in a glass did seem a little strange, however...

After fika, we wound our way back to Centralen, where we caught a train back to Södermalm and our hotel.

Stay tuned...

Getting off the train in the center of Stockholm, you immediately get that "big city" feel, even though there are only about 800,000 people living there. Still, this makes it Sweden's largest city.

We took a cab to the Columbus Hotel in the Södermalm section of Stockholm. The hotel has tons of character, perhaps because of its colorful history.

Once we were settled in, we took a short walk across the bridge into Stockholm's Gamla Stan or "Old City". This is where Stockholm began in the 13th century, and many of its buildings and alleys have remained unchanged. We were intrigued by Mårten Trotzigs gränd, the narrowest street in Stockholm, at just under 3 feet wide

With this in mind, we decided to poke around in all the alleys and stairways we could find. When we got to Västerlånggatan and looked down one particular staircase, we were curious about the few tables at the bottom, and decided to take look. here's the view from the bottom:

What we had discovered was the Von Der Lindeska Valvet, a restaurant housed in a building built in 1631 and once owned by Queen Kristina

We sat outside and enjoyed the atmosphere, considerably enhanced by the herring and aquavit we ordered with our meal, which was superb.

This was our first night in Stockholm together, and we already didn't want it to end. We walked back across the bridge just as the sun had set (at around 10:30PM), and I snapped a look back at where we had just been, the buildings silhouetted against the sky.

While Monika caught up with her relatives just outside the city, I used the day to wander Göteborg and orient myself. I found myself looking up quite a bit, as the old apartment buildings are very regal.

I soon found out that looking up too much in Göteborg is not always a good idea. There are bike paths, pedestrian paths, bus lanes and tram lines, all mixed together with the regular street traffic. Knowing when to cross a street is difficult enough; I'm not used to second-guessing myself on a sidewalk...

Once I had that figured out, though, I was able to make quick work of my solo scouting mission. When Monika returned we set out anew to see what we could see.

Göteborg is Sweden's second-largest city, after Stockholm. It was founded in 1621, and sits at the mouth of the Göta Älv river, which feeds into the North Sea, making Göteborg the largest shipping port in Scandinavia.

Our hotel was located just off Kungsportsavenyn, also known as "Avenyn" (The Avenue). At the south end of this street sits the Konstmuseum, in front of which is a huge sculpture of Poseidon, the symbol of Göteborg:

The Konstmuseum is currently under renovation; many of the exhibits were closed, but the Hasselblad Photo Centre was open, which was very worthwhile. Outside, there is a statue of Victor Hasselblad with one of the cameras he invented:

A nice touch is the astronaut footprint at his feet; an homage to the fact that the camera that took the first pictures on the moon was a Hasselblad. In fact, there are a total of 13 Hasselblad cameras still in space. They were considered too heavy to bring back...

Climbing to the top of the Konstmuseum steps affords a lovely view of Avenyn, looking north. We decided to walk that way next. A quick stop at the hotel to grab a jacket and we were on our way.

While in Göteborg, we stayed at City Hotel.

We chose this hotel because of its central location and reasonable price. There is a bar in its basement, which also serves breakfast every morning. The accomodations were clean and comfortable, if not spacious and luxurious, and everyone was quite friendly. The showers and bathrooms are at the end of the hall, but I would nonetheless recommend City Hotel to anyone.

A traveling light tip from Monika: wash your clothes in the shower and hang them on a string in your room to dry.

We already knew Europeans take soccer very very seriously. What we found out at the City Hotel, however, was exactly how much. Apparently the hotel was hosting a gaggle of Brits, visiting on some sort of cooking school exchange. Well, this coincided with the Manchester United v. Chelsea soccer championship. Between the shouting coming from the room next door, and the hollering coming from the bar in the basement, it was a long, funny night.

At the north end of Avenyn are beautiful views of Göteborg's canals. This a great place to soak up the sun and people watch, and looking up in any direction, you will see lots of great sculpture.

While in Göteborg we were invited to Cousin Ted's house for dinner with his family. Ted was born and raised in Göteborg, which was fortunate for us, because we got kinda lost looking for his house and he had to come get us.

Ted and Johanna were so very gracious, and their daughters Klara and Magdalena were so happy and alive; the laughing was contagious. Our great thanks for opening your home to us.

One thing we've done often in Sweden is to go to the grocery store and grab a little something to nibble on in our room. As we prepared to leave Göteborg we went is search of candy

One thing that struck us about Swedish candy is the variety of shapes their gummy candy comes in. In the states we've got gummy worms and the like, but this?

The name of these lovely treats (yes, we bought some) is "Grandma's Dentures". And they're actually pretty good.

Before catching our train, Cousin Per and Nina invited us to their house in the countryside, on Orust Island, just a bit north of Göteborg and off the coast. It was a lovely respite from the busy city.

In fact, sitting on their deck with a beer, we could easily chat across the fence with the neighbors:

I also got to meet the German Sheppards that accompanied Monika on her ancestral trip north. It turns out that Per and Nina train them for obedience, tracking and security. This prepares them for use as police/seeing-eye dogs. Per broke out a hurdle and demonstrated how a German Sheppard can jump an impressive height from a standstill

One ferry ride back to the mainland, a short drive to the city, and we were back on the X2000 train.

Next up - Stockholm

After I made the observation that Swedes seem to eat an awful lot of ice cream, Cousin Tommy was nice enough to send me some statistics. It turns out that Americans actually consume considerably more ice cream than Swedes.

What we may be witnessing, Tommy guesses, is the difference between consumer habits in each country: "Perhaps Swedes consume most of their ice cream outdoors, while Americans consume their ice cream at home in front of the TV..."

Touché, Cousin Tommy. Touché.

I spent our first day in Göteborg getting to know the city a little bit, while Monika headed out on her own adventure. Without further ado, and in her own words, Monika's story:

For some years, I have enjoyed collecting stories about my family's ancestors. Though I had many names, dates and stories, this information created more questions than answers. I was urged to contact Cousin Greta, who, at the age of 92, began to write to me in a fine, steady hand - volumes! Every letter was filled with such warmth and enthusiasm. I dreamed of meeting this lively and lovely woman...

Dreams do come true, sometimes just in time. My hope was to have time with Greta alone; to be able to be in the moment, even as we spoke about the past. It was so natural and comfortable to spend happy hours together in her apartment, take a tour of the facilities in her assisted living complex, and accompany her on a small shopping trip. She is the cherished matriarch of a large family, an incredibly positive woman with no complaints. Best of all, she is the greatest storyteller of all!

Until recently, I had no idea that Greta's daughter-in-law, Nina, had an addictive hobby that would transform our family. As it turns out, she is a most thorough, detail-oriented genealogist! When Nina learned that we were coming to Sweden, she worked steadily for three weeks, locating, deciphering and interpreting church records dating back to the early 1700's. Following that thread, she was able to trace the lives of my ancestors, up until the time that my great-grandfather and grandmother immigrated to the United States. Not only did she pinpoint the place they lived, while still in Sweden, but even details such as their date of departure and the names of the ships that carried them to their new land. When presented with this thick packet of carefully prepared documents, I was stunned and grateful beyond belief by the generosity of her time and effort. Thank you, Nina!

To top it all off, Greta's son Per planned a drive to visit the places where our branch of the family had its ancestral roots. Greta, Per, Nina, myself and two patient German Sheppards made the 3-hour trek, on the most lovely of summer days, to Värmskog. Cousin Per had arranged for us to meet the present priest of the Värmskog Church, built in 1782, where my great grandparents were confirmed. It was a moving experience, to say the least.

The priest, Thomas Andersson, was unlike any I have ever met. He beamed and shone; so animated, engaging and entirely enthusiastic about his calling. His worldview seemed so very expansive, his heart so very open. When he sang a Benedictine chant in the acoustically perfect sanctuary, hairs rose on my arms. He told wonderful stories, weaving biblical tales with the church history and his experience of the parish, all mixed with songs of Joni Mitchell and Simon and Garfunkel, played on his guitar. At parting, he happily pointed to the odometer on his old Volvo. "I've driven to the moon!" he said. "Now I hope to make it back to earth!

Who knew that when we continued down the narrow country road, we would find the Karsbol schoolhouse, still intact, where our ancestors studied? Cousin Per went door to door, hoping the neighbors could tell us exactly where the family house once stood; unfortunately, no one was home in the little town. When we compared old photographs with the landscape, however, we found the place where my great grandparents, as well as their forefathers and mothers, had walked for centuries before. Standing there, I had a feeling unlike any other I have experienced; I was connected to my past in a way I had not thought possible.

I will never forget this day, or the generosity of spirit shown by my relatives. On the way home, I held the warm, wise hands of Cousin Greta and watched her face closely. She was telling the story of the war years, when they raised and slaughtered white rabbits, preserving the meat in jars. Their pelts became a coat for young Per, seen here in a photo from 1952 with Greta, her mother and me. When John and I returned to Bohus, Per and I posed on the exact spot, where Greta's sister Marita and her husband Sven-Åke now live. They prepared a lavish meal and sang for us a Swedish drinking song that we must learn before the summer solstice.

We ate, drank and enjoyed a wonderful afternoon. Cheers!

As we drove south from Tällberg, the landscape flattened out and the weather cleared up and got a little warmer. We stopped in Leksand, where Leksandsbröd is made. This is the disc-shaped hard bread that is an absolute staple of Swedish breakfast and fika. You put butter on it, or make a sandwich with cheese and ham.

The factory is in the middle of nowhere; it's surrounded by fields and hills. As we pulled up to the factory store, I was amused to see workers loading trucks, while being supervised by one of the locals

About halfway to Gothenburg, we stopped for the night in Mariestad, in the province of Västergötland. Founded in 1583, this city on Lake Vänern was postcard-perfect when we arrived; the clouds were lifting and the sun was setting:

Many of the streets are still cobblestoned, giving the place a very friendly feeling. We walked around and took pictures while we had the amazing light on our side

At the top of the hill that overlooks the entire town is the old church, begun in the 16th century. It is absolutely gigantic, and surrounded by grave stones that date all the way back to medieval times

The next day we checked out and headed to Kållandsö, and Läckö Castle. The castle is on an island, just off a peninsula that juts out into Lake Vänern.

It dates back to 1298, and has been added onto and modified ever since; in fact, it is undergoing major renovations right now. Mostly, though, what we saw on the tour was original, starting with the iron-clad gate at the entrance

Almost all the rooms (there are hundreds) retain the original painted ceilings. This one dates to the 17th century

The largest area in the castle is the chapel. Also built in the 17th century, it is surrounded by wooden sculptures that sit in each window niche

We've all read stories and seen movies about the intrigue at the royal courts of the medieval period; the poisonings, the stabbings, the political maneuverings. Läckö Castle is no exception, but to see it in person really made those stories come alive for us.

Back in the car, and off to Gothenburg we went, from where I now type this entry. Stay tuned...

From Torshälla we headed back up to Dalarna to see Carl Larsson's home in Sundborn.

Carl Larsson lived from 1853-1919, and is perhaps Sweden's most famous artist. Typically, his work depicted rural Swedish life; many of his paintings are set in his house, which made seeing the actual rooms that much more interesting

If many of Larsson's works can be seen as somewhat sentimental, perhaps like those of Norman Rockwell, his master work is decidedly more visceral. Midvinterblot is a massive mural, completed in 1915, that resides in the Nationalmuseum in Stockholm. It depicts a Norse myth in which Kind Domalde is sacrificed to avoid a famine. Here's a detail:

The weather had turned colder, and it was starting to rain. We began our trip to Lake Siljan, in the heart of Dalarna. We stayed at the Hotell Klockargården in Tällberg. I must say, the service was absolutely stunning. Breakfast, fika and dinner are included, and the atmosphere is warm and friendly.

One thing that cracked us up, though, was the strange sense of decoration in random places. For instance, there was a portrait of someone's grandmother (affiliated with the hotel, we assumed) outside our door. We got used to saying hello and goodbye to her as we came and went.

The day after our arrival was our 16th wedding anniversary, and Monika and I woke up to a snowstorm. Absolutely beautiful, and a fitting marker, as I had proposed to Monika during a Colorado snowstorm.

We enjoyed a hearty Swedish breakfast, and decided to walk through the snow down to the lake. Very windy, but also quite magical. At one of the docks we saw traditional longboats, used prior to the 19th century to cross the lake to get to church. These days, they are used in races.

On the walk back up the hill, we noticed a silversmith shop that was actually open. It belongs to Emma Billbäck, a very talented artist. The work that struck us the most was her "nature prosthetics" series. She creates silver prostheses for missing or broken parts in nature. Check out this small pine cone:

The silver work is not cast; it is hand-worked. Do yourself a favor and look at the other pieces in this series. You'll be glad you did.

After a little debate, we decided to get in the car and drive around in the snowstorm. Our first stop was a little bit north along the lake in the town of Rättvik. Here resides the world's longest lake pier, which extends 2000 feet out into the water, where steamships used to dock. These days, it's used mostly for recreation; there is a small park built on the end of the pier.

It was windy, cold and snowing. So I somehow thought walking to the end of the pier would be a good idea. In as much as it reminded me I was alive, it was very good. Of course, I couldn't feel my face, but it was a worthwhile journey

The last major stop on our Swedish Anniversary Blizzard Tour™ was Nusnäs, the Dalahäst capital of Sweden. This is the town to where tourists flock to see how the little painted horses are made. You can watch them being carved. You can buy them. You can eat pastries shaped like little horses. Unless, of course, the town is closed because you decided to drive there in a snowstorm :)

We had fun anyway, window shopping and posing with gigantic Dalahästs

We packed it up and prepared to drive south to Mariestad, along the road to Göteborg. See you there.

Glad årsdag, Monika - Jag älskar dig!

Torshälla began around the year 700 as a place where bands of heathens made sacrifices to the god Thor. It received city rights in 1317. Today Torshälla is part of Eskilstuna.

We came to visit Marica and her family. Monika has known Marica a very long time. In Monika's words:

"Marica and I met as seven and eight-year-old girls while riding a northbound Swedish train. We never stopped writing, caring, or looking forward to the next letter or visit. She's a woman of depth and humor, with lovely insight into the workings of people's minds and hearts."

It's so rare to hear about penpals these days at all, much less two people who have maintained a correspondence for 50 years. After all I had heard about Marica and her family, I was not at all surprised with the warm reception they gave us. Right from the start, we spent hours on the back deck talking as naturally as if we'd been neighbors all along

And they have a dog. Oneida is a purebred Samoyed. And guess what? Their fur is hypoallergenic, and has properties similar to angora; you can actually knit sweaters with it. Which is exactly what Marica did the last time Oneida shed:

After a great first day chatting with and getting to know Marica and her husband Janne, we went into Eskiltuna to see what was what. Like many of the places we have visited, Eskilstuna is remarkably picturesque.

One thing Eskilstuna is known for is its metal work; everything from copper and brass kitchenware to fine knives to scissors is made here, and you can still watch craftsmen make it right in front of you. In fact, this heritage dates back to before the Industrial Revolution, when the city earned the name "Stålstaden" ("The City of Steel"). This knife maker looked up only briefly when we walked into his shop at the Rademacher forges, which were built in the 1650's.

These buildings were fascinating in that they have not only been preserved as historical monuments, but Eskilstuna's craftsmen still work in them, full-time. These are not shows for tourists (although plenty of tourists visit). I enjoyed poking my head in each craftsperson's shop and snapping a few pictures of their tools

One thing I noticed about old Swedish buildings - lack of headroom. I kept cracking my skull on ceiling beams, despite the well-meaning warnings placed on them

The next day I woke up with a heavy weight on my chest. Before I had time to wonder if I was having a heart attack, I opened my eyes, slowly and quietly grabbed my camera off the nightstand, and took this shot

Did you know that Samoyeds have very thick coats, and were bred to sleep on people to keep them warm? Yeah, neither did I. And another thing: they have beautiful eyelashes

So, after several days of laughing and drinking with Marica, Janne, and their daughters Elin and Ida, I didn't think it could get any better. But, on the last night, Janne says to me "John, the sauna is ready"

Sauna?

It turns out that Janne shares a sauna built on a dock on the lake down the street. So, we grabbed some towels and beer and headed down

It was a cold and rainy day, and the temperature was dropping. But I figured that wouldn't matter once we were in the sauna

Where it did matter, though, was about 45 into the adventure, when Janne says, "John, shall we jump in the lake?"

Extremely cold, but also invigorating. Kinda like testing a battery by licking it...

And with that, our time with the Aldin-Lundgren family came to an end. The next morning we loaded up the car and headed out...

Next up, Tällberg

Monika and I thought it would be a good idea to get to Kungsör a day earlier than we were expected; that way, we could check into a hotel, rest up, and head on over to Cousin Hans' place in the morning. A perfect plan. We arrived around 10:30PM, drove into the center of town, parked, and asked the first person we saw where to find a hotel. He looked a little grumpy, as if we were teasing him, then said (in Swedish) "There aren't any hotels in this town." Uh-oh. Now what? Should we drive another hour and a half to the next biggest city? Without the ability to check on the internet first (see previous posts about internet in Sweden) that could be spotty. Was it too late to call Hans? We had no idea how rude that might seem - arrive a day early, then wait until late at night (it was now getting on 11:30PM) to call.

So we called anyway. Good thing Hans and Agnetha were still up, and luckily, we had parked about a block away from their place. They saddled up their 4 dogs and walked over to get us. Back at their place, we crashed out in preparation for the day.

In the morning we were able to get a good look at the dogs when we took them for a walk around town. The two larger ones are Moa and Lady - Belgian Shepherds. The little guys are Lukas and Malte, who are Danish-Swedish farmdogs. They are a very distinctive breed, and it turns out there are only about 100 of them in the United States. I became fast friends with Malte, who was always ready for me to throw his tennis ball for him:

We took the dogs on a walk along the waterfront. Kungsör is situated on the western edge of Lake Mälaren, in the province of Västmanland. Although it's almost halfway across the country, Hans told me that it is possible to navigate a boat through the various inlets and lakes all the way to Stockholm. In fact, he said, it's quite common for people to boat to Kungsör for the weekend.

Hans and Agnetha live across the street from an old church; you can see it from their back yard. When we weren't listening to the sound of its wonderful bells, we were marveling at the way the late light hit its bricks:

The big outing we took while visiting Kungsör was to a dog agility competition. Both Hans and Agnetha compete with their dogs, who ride in the back of the van in a cage that sports some of their winning ribbons:

We tagged along to a field in Fagersta, where we were amazed to see all the activity. Neither Monika nor I had ever seen dog agility, although we've certainly heard of it. The course is made up of ramps, tunnels, hurdles and the like. Most dogs make it through the obstacles in under a minute, if they aren't disqualified.

As Hans says, it's never the dog; it's always the person. This means any mistake the dog makes is a result of poor instructions by the handler. So, each time the course is reset, the handlers walk through it, planning the physical cues they will use with their dogs. I found this part of the process fascinating; it was like a wonderful, abstract ballet:

Once the course is memorized, the running begins. Hans runs both Lady and Moa in the large breed category, and his specialty is in jumping his dogs - "hoppar" in Swedish:

Agnetha runs my buddy Malte, and I'll tell you what: that dog likes to jump. The bar is set for small dogs, but Malte clears the hurdle at the large breed height

By this time, it's getting late in the day, so we agree to meet Hans and Agnetha back at their house, and Monika and I head out in the rental car. It's been a long hot day, and we're looking forward to relaxing a bit before dinner. Once back, Monika pours us each a glass of strawberry juice and we sit on the deck. Afterwards, Monika takes a nap, and I decide to read for a bit. I grab another can of strawberry juice and settle in with my book.

Eventually Hans and Agnetha come home with the dogs, and Hans and I have a beer before dinner. After dinner, we have another beer, but I'm getting tired and decide to just switch back to that strawberry juice. I go outside to sit with Monika, and she asks how much of that juice I'm going to drink. I say I don't know, there's just something about it that's so refreshing. She starts laughing. What? I say. Turns out I'd been downing flavored malt liquor for the last 6 hours. No wonder I didn't feel like having any more beer...

Anyway...

The next day Hans and I went to some guitar shops in Västerås. One stuck out in particular: Hagstrom Musik:

Here's the short version. Hagstrom was a company that made accordions and guitars in Sweden from the 1930's up until the late 70's or so. In the beginning, they had dedicated stores throughout Sweden, but no more. So, I met the owner, Richard Jansson, and asked him about this. It turns out he took over the shop from his father, and decided to just leave the name as it was.

Seeing as the shop had been in his family, I asked him if he had any vintage Hagstrom stuff around. Richard was very cool; he asked the customer he was with if he could wait a bit while he took me into the basement for a look. He had tons of old advertising, signage and banners. He even pulled out this old Hagstrom Kent from the early 60's

Oh yeah - did I mention Hans owns a 1964 Fender Stratocaster he bought new when he was kid?

All in all, Kungsör was a fabulous place to visit, and Hans, Agnetha and their family (Camilla, John, Niclas and Lina) made us feel incredibly welcome and at home.

See you in Torshälla. Bye bye, Malte!

Once on the highway to Kungsör, we decided we would stop in some of the towns along the way. It seems every town has a "centrum" - a sort of town center, where there are shops and parks. The time of day was favorable for this shot in Ludvika:

One question we began to ask ourselves, however, is this: why are all the buildings in Sweden the same colors? Red, yellow, green, beige. We would soon find out; more on that later...

A little more south on highway 50 brought us to the mining town of Grängesberg, where this large, impressive sculpture stands along the highway in tribute to the town's industry:

Driving the highways of Sweden is actually very relaxing. There is little traffic, no billboards, the power lines are underground and the scenery is tranquil and serene. There is an awful lot of room to think on those roads. Nonetheless, Monika and I decided to get off the highway and see what we could find along the dirt roads and meadows. Postcard views awaited us, as we stopped the car to wander out into fields and along streams.

A word about this type of wandering. In Sweden there is a law called "Allemansrätten" which means roughly "every man's right" to public access. It means that everyone has the right to enjoy the land, with few exceptions. You can walk into a field, swim in a lake, etc. as you like. While we didn't try to saunter up into anyone's backyard or anything, we were pleased to see that noone paid us much mind as we explored the landscape.

As we prepared to head back to the highway for the last half of our drive to Kungsör, we ran across a giant coffee cup sitting in a field. We looked around, wondering if there was a store we missed, or some other sign that this object was related to anything we were seeing. Nope - completely random.

See you in Kungsör...

From Lund we booked passage on the train to Borlänge. We took the X2000, Sweden's high-speed train. It is capable of traveling 170 MPH, but since it shares the tracks with regular trains, its speed is restricted to 120 MPH. Still, awfully fast. And the conductors not only take tickets, they sell candy.

The train switches tracks at Mjölby, which gave me enough time to enjoy a delicious hot dog before resuming our journey.

Arriving in Borlänge, we were met by Monika's moster (aunt) Gerd. She took us home and we immediately sat down for fika. Roughly, "fika" translates as "coffee break" and is always accompanied by some sort of snack. Swedes consume as much coffee as we do in the US; as such, this custom is taken very seriously. Moster Gerd had been baking for days in preparation for our stay, and the coffee was super-strong, as it has been everywhere we've been so far. So, if you like baked goods and jet fuel for coffee, you'll like fika.

Borlänge dates to the 14th century, and is situated in the province of Dalarna. The symbol of this region is the Dalahäst, a carved wooden horse, painted bright red and decorated. These horses are everywhere, in all shapes and sizes. I knew the were ubiquitous, but I was surprised to see these examples cast in concrete as barricades at a gas station:

I was left to explore the city center one day while Monika and Moster Gerd went on an outing together. This was my first time out without Monika as a translator, and I was a little nervous. Luckily, I found my way to a guitar shop, where I had a lovely conversation with the proprietors. Fortunately, their English was better than my Swedish, and we managed to figure out the rest as we went along. The manager, Mikael, pointed me in the direction of some of the sights and, later in the day, even helped me find a rental car agency by calling them on the phone for me. Thanks guys!

The town is laid out around a central square, with houses and apartments placed outside the stores and shops. The buildings are close together and very clean; it was great to walk around the streets in the late afternoon light.

I found myself noticing details I might not otherwise look for in the US. Take this telephone manhole cover. Pretty cool logo, I thought...

The next day at Moster Gerd's house was gardening day. She and Monika set about the task of planting flowers and turning over the garden. I volunteered to mow the lawn, which was amazingly pleasant in the clean air and sun. Did you know that lawnmower blades spin backwards in Europe? No, not really. Gotcha though, didn't I?....

Before saying our goodbyes to Moster Gerd and leaving Borlänge, we paid a visit to the Jussi Björling Museet to learn more about the great operatic tenor, perhaps Borlänge's most famous son.

This is truly an incredible place, and was founded and continues to be run by a single man, Harald Henrysson. The depth of this museum is astounding; people from all over the world send Harald photos, recordings, videos, newspaper articles, stage costumes - anything imaginable that has to do with Jussi Björling. Harald accepts it all, and faithfully catalogs and displays everything.

We listened to many recordings, and Harald showed us some rare US television appearance footage from the 50's. Amazing. By the way, if you've never heard Jussi Björling sing Nessun Dorma, take a moment and treat yourself.

Into the rented car we climbed, and off we drove. Next up, Kungsör.

Hello again, and sorry for the delay in blog entries. It seems that broadband internet access is so prevalent here that everyone has it in their homes. However, there is no internet to be found in public. When I ask if there are any coffee houses or the like where I can use my computer, I get blank looks. "We don't need that - we have it at home." We did manage to check our email once by parking outside a hotel, though. Anyway...

Lund is situated in Skåne, the southernmost province of Sweden. Cousin Tommy and Maria offered to take us on a driving tour of the area. The land is quite beautiful, with rolling hills and fields that empty out as you approach the Baltic Sea.

Our primary destination was Ystad, a coastal town on the Baltic Sea. There are many palatial homes in the woods just off the beach, but we were taken by the colorful stugas that pepper the area. Many Swedes head for the ocean in the summer. Instead of carting all of their gear from the car each time they arrive, however, they buy or rent a stuga. This way, umbrellas, clothing, food, etc. need only be carried in once, then you're set for the summer.

Before we left Seattle, Monika had borrowed a Swedish travel film from the library. It was made in the 60's, and was hysterical in that it made what we thought were absurdly broad generalizations about the culture. Among these was the assertion that Swedes enjoy ice cream so much, it could very well be considered a natioanl obsession. It was so boring, in fact, that I fell asleep on the couch before it was over.

Well, when we left the beach in Ystad to get some food, what do I see a few feet off the boardwalk? Yup...

We laughed, remembering the travel film. But the further we walked, the more people we saw eating ice cream. It became kinda spooky. There must have been hundreds of ice cream eaters, of all ages, in Ystad. We've been to several cities and towns since, and I've noticed that every little corner store has a gigantic clown-shaped sign on the sidewalk advertising the presence of ice cream inside. I've also had the chance to ask several people: is it true that Swedes love ice cream? The answer? Yes. Yes, it is. Monika and I now refer jokingly to Swedes as "those pathological ice cream eaters"

We eventually found a lovely spot to grab a bite to eat, where Monika snapped this shot of Maria and I:

Cousin Tommy and I have known each other for some years, as he often came to Seattle on business. Our arrival in Sweden marks my first meeting with Maria, and we have hit it off famously. She has a wicked sense of humor; look closely - you can see it in her eyes.

After lunch, it was back to the beach, where I wanted to dip my toes in the Baltic Sea. Anyone who lives on the Northwest coast of the United States will tell you that the ocean is, to put it mildly, very cold. It has a way of curling your toes and cramping your feet. Well, if that's the case, then I have to believe that too much time spent wading in the Baltic Sea will make your feet snap off your legs entirely. Holy crap, was that cold!

The next stop on our tour was the ancient town of Kåseberga, which is situated on a high hill overlooking the Baltic Sea:

Kåseberga is a fishing village known for the Ales Stenar, a viking rock formation placed on the hilltop. It is 220 feet long, 62 feet wide, and is the shape of a sailing ship. It was erected 1400 years ago, and it's not known how the rocks were transported up the hill. It takes about 40 minutes to make the steep climb to the hilltop, and all i was carrying was my camera...

And that was our day in Skåne. Next up: the province of Dalarna, and the town of Borlänge.

Well, we landed safely in Copenhagen, Denmark and made our way to the train that would cross us into Malmö, Sweden. The trip takes only 20 minutes, and is across the Oresund Strait via the Oresund Bridge, the longest border crossing bridge in the world. The weather was exactly as we had left it in Seattle, wet and foggy; a hypnotizing train ride nonetheless.

Upon our arrival in Malmö, Monika's cousin Tommy picked us up and we drove the short distance to Lund. After settling in, having a beer and crashing out on account of the wicked jetlag, we were ready to explore the town the next day. So, we boarded an incredibly clean and punctual public bus (a Mercedes-Benz, no less) and were transported to the city center in less than 10 minutes.

The streets are all cobblestoned, and cars aren't allowed in the town center, excepting business owners and residents. The above picture shows a typical street. I asked Cousin Tommy if what we were seeing was the "tourist" section of town; it sort of had that appearance to me, what with all the people shopping, sitting outside in the square, bicycling to and fro, etc. He assured me that no, the entire town was like this, and what we were seeing was the everyday business of the town's residents, which number about 100,000.

Thus assured I would not stick out like a sore thumb (until I opened my mouth, I soon learned), it was time for some fast food. Cousin Tommy and I bought Swedish hot dogs from a Danish hot dog cart (go figure). As you can see, the bun has a hole into which the hot dog is placed. After some wonderfully raunchy jokes about how those buns might actually be made, we ate and moved on.

Lund has been around since about 900 AD, and as such there are many artifacts to be glimpsed both in its museums and public places. Here's a picture of Monika with a runic stone on the grounds of Lund University:

After quite a bit of walking, it was time to sit a spell and have lunch in one of the many outdoor beer gardens. A couple or beverages and a smoke later, and we were on our way for some more exploring.

Next up, the region of Skåne, and the Baltic Sea. Until then, remember: smoking kills!

Our latest foster cat now has a lovely new home. I took this picture of Zorro and my Rickenbacker 4003 bass a few days before he moved on to bigger and better things. Good luck, buddy!

I don't know about you, but I will vote for whichever Democrat earns the nomination; I like both of them. Which got me thinking - what would it look like to have the best of both worlds?

This past Sunday, April 16, Diane Haithman wrote a great story in the Los Angeles Times about art museum security guards who are themselves artists. I was lucky enough to be included in this piece, in both word and image.

The online version doesn't include the photos. If you'd like to see those, as well, click on this handy little PDF file.

I've uploaded some more of the rock sticker photos people have sent me. Palm Springs - sweet. Keep 'em coming...

I've finally gotten around to fleshing out the story behind my series of museum guard photos.

I've just posted images of some of the many small square paintings I've done over the years. Enjoy!

What does a big dog have to do with a famous, dead artist? I'm glad you asked...

Way back in 1995, I was briefly affiliated with the SOIL artist cooperative in Seattle, WA. Now, 10 years later, they are having a retrospective exhibit, in which I will be showing two new paintings.

Meanwhile, the show runs through October 30, with the opening reception occurring this Thursday, October 6.

SOIL is at 112 3rd Ave. South in the Tashiro Kaplan Building in Pioneer Square, Seattle, WA. See ya there!

A group of musicians at Microsoft has created a compilation CD of music called Songs For The South. 100% of all proceeds from the sale of this CD go directly to the American Red Cross in support of the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Not only that, but Microsoft will match your purchase 100%.

I'm proud to have designed the cover for this disc, as well as having contributed a Regular song. Please visit their web site and pick up a copy.

The building we live in is about 125 years old. It's crooked and creaky and dusty and wonderful. This weekend, as I puttered in my studio, I found myself looking at the wall that had at one time experienced severe water damage. The paint was buckled and stained, and starting to peel. So I idly pulled a piece off. There was a flowery bit of wallpaper underneath. I pulled some more, and uncovered older layers of wallpaper. By the time I had finished, the entire wall had been uncovered, and I had revealed bits and pieces of 125 years worth of wallpaper. So, I did what came naturally - I took a picture of Monika.

It's a bike. It's a sculpture. It's a musical instrument. It's all three! Read about The Duchamp...

The process of making something special is the practice of art. True, I have been astonished by the muse that flies in the window, producing a dazzling product to greet the dawn. More often, though, I have favored "component art" - the practice of making art in which smaller components are readied and assembled over time. Whether in the fine or the applied arts, this type of making is especially suited to patient artists working toward a large vision with only interrupted slots of time. Though some men create in this way, component art is more often the domain of women juggling daily demands with the need to create a lovely and lasting artifact.
 
Thirty months ago, I began to make "yo-yos" for a yo-yo quilt. At that time, my grandson was the size of a pencil eraser. I so hoped that things would go well for my dears ones, so I paired a hopeful mantra with a tangible product - the making of small cloth yo-yos. I made small yo-yos wherever I went. Hundreds. Yo-yo making became addictive, compulsive and, in some way, a ritual much like praying. I recently sewed the 1,000th yo-yo onto a quilt and gave it to the young family. Expressing the wishes and sentiments of mothers and grandmothers throughout the ages, I embroidered on the back, "To comfort, cover and protect you..." As I reflect on the experience of making it, I see that it was more powerful and satisfying than any art I'd made to date. Go figure.
 

I once read a book entitled Artists Beware. It addressed the good number of hazards artists encounter- all in their own studios. Last night, however, I was not thinking of hazards when I volunteered to help John with a photographic series. He's been compiling stunning images for a calendar combining his two favorite things - cats and vintage guitars. Like all calendar candidates, Billy has been enjoying our posh "sleep-away" camp for photogenic cats. When I reached down to greet him, this furry fellow scored six deep puncture wounds. I can tell you that it wasn't such a great idea to go on the web looking for information about cat bites, either. Yikes! A Billybite! Well, I've had a good life... As instructed, I drew a circle around each reddened area to note if the infection grows or subsides. John later confided, "Billy says he's sorry..." 

 

MOMO, a life-sized doll, has had an interesting life.