Impressions of Sweden
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.