The Eurotraveller - Sweden

Impressions of Sweden

Sun, 11 Aug 2019 09:02:00 +0000

Saturday, 10. August 2019—

As I write this final entry for my first (and hopefully not the last) expedition to Sweden, I am back in the heavy-handed humidity and high temperatures of Bratislava, sorely wishing I were still in the Nordic cool of Sweden. The last few days of my stay were busy and didn’t allow me time to catch up, so now I’ll try to recount as much of the impression of those last few days as I can.

I consider myself fortunate to have stayed in Lysekil. My sister-in-law’s home is cozy, and in my estimation is the finest definition of the Swedish concept of lagom (modesty): not too much, not too little. She and her family have everything they need there, and living in a city as I do, I certainly appreciated the slower life in the countryside. Lysekil has a population of around 7,600, so there’s none of the traffic and noise I’m accustomed to in Bratislava.

Church at Lyseskil

Zuza and I spent the last two days there walking around the town, exploring the church and the town, and celebrating Ida’s 8th birthday with Swedish family members. (I actually got to speak Swedish to those family members who don’t, unlike many Swedes, speak English.) And Zuza and Kata and I, the morning of the party, went for a five kilometer nature walk around what is essentially an extension of their property; through some of the finest woods and wind-hewn rock and lakes I’ve ever seen. Along the way, we saw ruins of windmills of old. Well, the signs attested to their existence even if nothing was left.

Nature around Lysekil, typical for the west coast of Sweden

And there were even some old pictographs etched into the smooth weather-worn rocky terrain bearing testimony to an earlier civilization—Vikings, perhaps? Looking at the pictures one wonders what they were trying to communicate. Was the weather good for the hunt? Did someone in the local tribe get married? Did someone die? They say pictures are worth a thousand words, and since there was no written language thousands of years ago, you have to use your imagination and be the judge.

Our last day in Lysekil we packed up everything we’d brought and of the past ten days and threw it all in the car. Kata got us to the ferry crossing in time for the 9:55 ferry which allowed us to continue on E6 to Göteborg. Eighty-some minutes later we arrived in the center and Kata dropped us off at our hotel. It was a belated wedding present: our final day in Sweden together to be spent in Göteborg.

Here it was a bit of a culture shock. We were no longer in that modest Swedish countryside near the sea. No more quaint fishing villages and sea-kissed clapboard houses of old, wind-whipped rocks strewn with scruffy purple heather shrubs and rock carvings or ponds sunk into rocks molded by retreating glaciers in the Ice Age, and sheltered communities where the local milk co-ops were run on the honor system. Here we suddenly were in the second largest city in Sweden, situated on the Göta älv River, a city known for its Dutch-like canals and tree-lined boulevards and I think we both felt the sense of nakedness and vulnerability, having spent the previous nine days in the countryside. Zuza has been to these parts several times, but for me this was the first visit, so I was especially prone to the sensation of having all the impressions whirl around inside my head. I recognized the façade of the main railway station, having recalled it from a scene in “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo”. Suddenly I heard much less Swedish. It was more cosmopolitan here. I felt distinctly less lagom here. Every third person, it seemed, was from the Middle East or the Horn of Africa. I wondered how many of them partake regularly in fika? They gestured differently, chattering in their native languages into cell phones, wrapped in burkas or niqabs. Was this Sweden? What were they all doing here? Were they tourists like me or were they nbonafide residents? Why had they chosen Sweden? Did they have family here as I did? Or in-laws, anyway? The more educated ones and the ones who had chosen to integrate could speak Swedish and held jobs in the information centers at the main railway station or as cashiers in shops. I envied them, living in such a prosperous, peaceful country. With my own country slowly sliding into chaos, (I really need to stop reading the daily news!). I really appreciated Sweden. Sweden is known for its neutrality as well as its generous social system. I’m sure all these people, regardless of how well they try to fit in, are well taken care of. Personally, I found this country easy to fit into.

Early the next morning, after an evening of shopping around town and dining out, we caught the bus to Landvetter Airport and flew back to reality. I’d taken Sweden for granted as the land of ABBA, Volvo cars, IKEA, Nobel Prize, but having seen it in person, now I appreciate it and long for a time when I can return.

Biking, ferries, köttbullar and gummy fish

Mon, 05 Aug 2019 07:09:00 +0000

Monday, 5. August 2019—

We’ve done plenty of driving the past few days, seeing this and that in the area. What could be more fun than driving through the countryside of the western coast of Sweden listening to ABBA on the radio? But we’d driven enough.

Sunday morning, five of us (minus Rune, who stayed behind) took the bikes and headed into Lysekil. When you live in the country, you have space for a lot of bicycles. It was a roughly 9-kilometer trip into town, mostly flat, along quiet country roads. There was little traffic, save for a few locals and the occasional lost Norwegian caravan. Swedes are quite respectful of bikers. And the last several kilometers we had the luxury of a nicely paved bike trail. Everything looks nice in Sweden, but not necessarily in an artificial, sterile way.

We cruised into town and headed straight for the ferry dock. Västtrafik, the local public transport company, runs the #847, a ferry, across the sound to Skaftö, calling at Östersidan and Fiskebäckskil. Our plan was to get off at Fiskebäckskil. A salty-faced, well-seasoned crew member cheerfully ushered us and our bicycles onto the ferry. There seems to be many such jolly, seagoing Swedes, all with swarthy sun-kissed faces. This jovial man reminded me of the Swedish Chef except he had a “Three Stooges” style bowl haircut and no mustache. We waited inside the ferry half an hour before departure. The trip across the water took barely 10 minutes, including the call at Östersidan. At Fiskebäckskil, we disembarked and began pedaling uphill, away from the marina. The bike trail continued as a gravel path along the waterfront. The kids were grumpy because they were getting hungry. We pedaled past quaint little brightly-painted cottages with wicker furniture on their decks. Some people live here year-round. I don’t know what there is to do here in winter, when days are short, nights are long and well below freezing, but during the summer, this place is a playground for swimming, fishing, sailing, kayaking, and sunning on the rocks and beaches. Lucky folk!

At one point, we made the kids even grouchier by stopping at a cemetery containing 13 local victims of a cholera outbreak in 1834, but from here it wasn’t much further to Grundsund, another village of quaint clapboard houses clustered on either side of the sound. Here we lashed our bikes together around posts near the public toilets (unisex, like nearly all public toilets in Sweden seem to be) and walked a short distance to a bustling harbor-side restaurant. Seafood is big here in Sweden, and you smell it in every restaurant. We waited to be seated, then when we were called, made our choices off the menu. There weren’t many: it was either seafood (salmon or shrimp), a hamburger, or köttbullar med lingon sylt och potatis, or Swedish meatballs with lingonberry preserves and potatoes. The ladies opted for the seafood options, the rest of us chose the Swedish meatballs. I cannot imagine coming to Sweden and not trying this famous specialty—rather akin to not eating a real hamburger in the United States; however, köttbullar are often on the kids’ menu. We were able to persuade our server to give me an adult-sized portion. The meal was very tasty, and I was quite full. Even better than the meatballs at IKEA. Of course, we had to save room for coffee and ice cream. Because the family has been taking good care of us, Zuza and I offered to pay for the meal. I was glad I ordered a non-alcoholic beer instead of a real one, which would have been twice the price. I nearly had a Swedish heart attack: the price for 5 people, no tip, was easily more than double what I might pay in Slovakia for a similar meal. But this is Sweden, and the food was worth it.

I staggered out of the restaurant, vowing to myself to not eat out very often and to stick to water. We walked around town, stumbling across a grocery store to pick up some snacks and another Swedish specialty I needed to recover from lunch: gummy fish! These are typically in a bin in the store and you "pick n' mix" them. This also kept the kids quiet on the ride back to the ferry.

Swedish gummy fish

Finally, we arrived back at the ferry dock in Fiskebäckskil and let the kids play mini-golf while we waited with a family from Germany and some other local families on bikes for the ferry to come and take us back to Lysekil. The ferry arrived, took us, then churned and heaved its way over the waves the short distance. The same cheery ferryman let us off and gave us a hearty Tack och hej då! (Thanks and goodbye!) Rune brought the car with a bike rack and waited beside the dock to take some of us back home by car. The excursion, including the ferry ride of about 4 kilometers round trip, was 27 kilometers. I'd call it a pretty Swedish day.

Typical storage houses in Grundsund

Peace in the countryside

Sun, 04 Aug 2019 05:57:00 +0000

Sunday, 4. August, 2019--

I wake up refreshed this morning, despite overcast skies. I feel fortunate enough to live in Slovakia, where I enjoy a peaceful, relatively hassle-free life. But I am truly blessed to be in Sweden. It's incredibly peaceful here. As I read the news of yet another mass shooting in the United States (this time at a Walmart in El Paso, Texas), I think about many things, what it means to be happy, free, and safe, and live within ones means, not having too much. I think it's safe to say here is a nation of happy, modest people. They have everything they need and they do not feel the need to boast about it. They don't drive flashy cars nor show off by living at the ritziest mansion at the top of the hill. They practice lagom, or modesty. Inte för mycket och inte för lite. Not too much and not too little. And common sense rules here. Sure, people have guns, but they know rigid laws will protect them. I bought a handmade knife and leather sheath at the Viking market yesterday. They're handy when you're on a long hike. At any rate, I finally found one and clipped it to my belt. When I arrived home, Rune, Zuza's brother-in-law, informed me, "Oh, you're not supposed to carry knives around larger than a small pocket knife. It's illegal in Sweden." I'd seen some people carrying them around at the market as part of the historical reenactment. Some people were using them to carve wood or slice meat. Maybe they're allowed here. Or no one cares. But there's a sense to things in Sweden. I took the knife off my belt and left it in the room.

After dinner on the deck (we had grilled beer can chicken, grilled veggies, and potatoes), we went outside to enjoy the cool of the evening. Even at 9:00, it's possible to be out enjoying the last of the daylight. We played badminton, pumped up the tires and lubricated the chains of the bikes in preparation for tomorrow's ride, and went for a walk in the woods and fields behind the house. The kids and Rune got out the quad and we took that through a joyride through the countryside. The kids have a great life here. They have lots of room to play and can do pretty much anything they want. It's safe here, too, and the kids know common sense. Ten-year-old Oliver handled the quad with great skill and finesse. He drove it not too slow but not too fast. Yeah, lagom at it's finest.

Bronze Age Pictographs and Modern Vikings

Fri, 02 Aug 2019 20:33:00 +0000

Thursday, 1. August 2019--

After a morning of shopping during which an elderly woman and a foreign-born (Ethiopian-?) shop assistant asked me for help (and for which my Swedish skills were sharply tested!), the family took Zuza and me to a Bronze Age settlement and outdoor museum at Tanumshede. Here is the Vitlycke Museum, which is on the UNESCO heritage list. Basically, it was a museum featuring a reconstruction of a 3,000-year-old village. So here you can see what life was like a heck of a long time ago. Bear in mind, people kept animals in their homes back then--and I don't mean just cats and dogs. Imagine having your livestock living with you! I'm pretty sure they didn't have air freshener back then.

Inside the museum was a cafe which was serving lunch. Like many eating establishments I've seen so far, it was buffet-style, or, as we often say in English, a smorgasbord. (Smörgås, by the way, means sandwich.) There were on;y two main choices: baked salmon with potatoes or chicken with potatoes. I'm not a fish eater so I opted for the chicken, which was nice because it came with a brunsås or a brown sauce, not unlike that served with köttbullar (Swedish meatballs). In fact, the whole place had that "Swedish-meatballs-in-the-upstairs-restaurant-in-IKEA" sort of smell, you know what I mean? And they offered salad, which was quartered tomatoes with chickpeas, black beans, and edamame beans. Yum!

But here I witnessed quite the family. A large woman, who I decided was probably named Brunhildegard, had curly-reddish hair, shaved on one side of her head. She sported Birkenstock sandals, and a long, linen dress like they might have worn in the Medieval period, if not earlier, and Ray-ban glasses. I wondered if she might be taking part in some kind of historical reenactment. Her equally large husband had a shaved head and sported a beard, several tattoos, and had a biker or Gothic rock T-shirt. (I couldn't quite see the design.) The kids wore similar linen clothing and had hair dyed pink and green. They were the modern Viking family, a page right in history.

After lunch, we walked uphill to a bunch of rocks with strange carvings in them. Archaeologists had painstakingly painted them red so they'd show up, otherwise, they were not so visible. It was interesting to speculate what these people so many eons ago were trying to communicate. The hunt? A funeral? A wolf attack? Trade with other civilizations? Og was here? In many ways, I think we've come back full-circle when you look at all the emoticons we use in text messaging in place of proper written language.

Arriving in the Land of Lagom

Fri, 02 Aug 2019 06:36:00 +0000

Wednesday, 31. July 2019--

Just what does lagom mean? It literally translates to "moderate". It's the Swedish way of life... Inte för mycket och inte för lite, or not too much and not too little. I like that philosophy because that's how I try to approach my own life. No extremes, everything should be a balance.

After months of planning, getting my permanent residency card in Slovakia, and packing, Zuza and I were at last ready to leave and face the Swedes. Well, she's been to Sweden countless times: her sister Kata lives there with her Swedish partner and their two children. Taxi, then the bus to the Vienna airport, and finally airborne. Then we were over Copenhagen, and finally over Sweden. The flight had lasted barely 90 minutes and we couldn't see a thing on the ground for all the cloud cover. Only at about 500 feet were we able to see the landscape; flat with lots of greenery and lakes--Scandinavia at its finest. It reminded me of parts of Oregon.

The airport in Göteberg (Gothenburg in English and pronounced something like "ye-te-BOR-i-a" in Swedish) looked like a page from an IKEA catalog: simple, clean, modest, full of lagom. It was actually chill. Well, "room temperature", but because we were coming from Bratislava where it had been 30C (over 90F) with about 60% humidity, we were happy to cool off. We stood in a queue for unisex toilets, but it was not a long wait to use some of the cleanest toilets I'd ever seen. Kata was there to pick us up as soon as we'd collected our luggage.

We drove to Ljungskile, along the jagged western coast of Sweden, for lunch. At this point, Norway was far closer than Stockholm. I was relaxed by the peacefulness of everything, the modesty of the drivers, not aggressive nor flaunting themselves with expensive brand name cars. Even in the thick afternoon traffic of Göteberg, everyone remained calm and modest. Parts of the drive reminded me of Oregon, especially in the Coast Range. The restaurant was like everything else I'd seen along the way: not too much, not too little. We waited to be seated and the server brought the lunch menu--in Swedish. It wasn't hard to figure out. Was my first meal to be köttbullar (Swedish meatballs)? The restaurant smelled like the cafe in IKEA. No, instead, I ordered baked chicken with new potatoes and served with tomato-mango salsa. I tried Swedish beer, a 5.4% Eriksberg, a sort of amber ale. Very nice and not too hoppy. Following lunch, we partook in that most Swedish of rituals: fika, or taking coffee. Coffee is not really the shots of espresso the Slovaks like to drink. This is strong brewed coffee, served piping hot, but in larger cups, as I'm accustomed to drinking it in the United States. Like many things in this restaurant (and in others, as I came to find out), it's buffet-style or serve yourself.

Following lunch, we strolled along the rocky waterfront, admiring the Victorian-style homes of the early part of the last century which graced the shoreline. People really go for the robotic lawnmowers here, and several lawns had a small robot on wheels running back and forth. The homes looked like a scene out of Bergman's film "Fanny and Alexander", and I began to see why this area reminded me so much of Oregon: in the early 1900s, many Scandinavians (Swedes and Finns mostly) came to Oregon, namely Astoria, to work in the fisheries and canneries. They obviously brought with them the simple lagom style of architecture in the simple white only or red or yellow clapboard siding with white window panes.

Feeling humbled by the simple beauty of it all, we piled back into the car and drove on to Lysekil.

A house in Ljungskille

Välkommen till Sverige!

Fri, 02 Aug 2019 06:31:00 +0000

What comes to mind when you think Sweden? Well, of course, IKEA is first in my mind. Then there's ABBA. And Volvos. The Muppets' Swedish Chef, Greta Garbo, Ingmar Bergman. Pipi Longstockings, perhaps? Swedish gummy fish? The Cardigans? And there's my heroine, Lisbeth Slander from Stieg Larsson's Millenium Trilogy (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo). The list could go on.

The journey begins July 31...