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...
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!
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...
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...
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!
