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!

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.

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

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!

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...

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.

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.

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...

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

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.

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!

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.

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...