Trip to Sweden in May.
We left our home by the sea with Edina in the wood shed, the first primroses emerging and some cuckoo flowers trying to make a slight cuckoo noise on the lawn and drove inland. We met more and more icy floes along the river- banks that had got stuck on their way, and virtual house-like blocks of ice still cleaving to the shady spots like quick-glue. Adherent stuff. The lakes were still locked in ice, but the last ski track had been made some time ago when it was still safe to cross.
In Voss, the “Three Brothers“ café was quite full of sporty people in woolly hats, down jackets and even summer frocks, all according to the idea of what a summer temperature was, having reviving cupfuls of coffee and slices of chocolate, apple or carrot cake, all tasty as always. The daring took their beers outside. Along with blankets.
After the tunnels towards Sognefjorden, suddenly we noticed minute mouse-ear like leaves on the birches; they had just about opened. A very faint shimmer of green was shining in the fitful glimpses of sunshine. Spring had sprung!
Our “summer hut” is in Lærdal, where we often park our “Gudridur”, and yes, the spot by the fjord was empty, as we had hoped and expected after 10 years of doing this. There the fjord lay. Full of ducks and dolphins and seagulls, even a seal bobbed about, with the opposite mountain side doing its business of land and rock slides in peace, while in Lærdal only a few minutes away, the camping was chock-a-block with happy, noisy and expectant humanity. As we visited the place I got talking to a cheery little child on a bicycle who asked me if I intended to take pictures of everything on the camping site? And did I really like that ugly bus (there was a veteran bus convention going on) and would I like, just one mind you, of his chocolate-letter- biscuits? I managed to take a picture of his little sister and baby brother who were happily crawling about in their woollies as the parents tried to put up their tent. “We are going to sleep here for 3 nights!” he trilled. Lovely to see people who love these simple joys of life.
A horse-buggy ridden by cheery girls passed, a few cars, then only the sound of rivers and the whisper of the wind disturbed our night. I do love the free, open country side of Norway, could not, I think, live with private property signs stuck all over the place. Would be the trespasser of the year in England!
Further along the road where we stood, big blocks of stone had plummeted down from the heights, some crashing into the fjord, some making big dents in the tarmac and grass…a sign for “no camping here “ was superfluous, the blocks were BIG!
Always a bit nervous when attempting a mountain pass this early in the year, we were relieved to find the road quite bare of ice, though winter reigned all around nearer to the clouds. It had lost its grip though, for houses had emerged from the snow drifts and a few Norwegian flags flew fluttering in the chill air to proclaim their victory. Rivers ran under ice still, but one could hear them like rebellious children trying to break out.
In Oslo we had exciting business to do. Meeting our potential “in-laws” for the first time. Camillas parents had invited us to their home, and after we managed to extricate ourselves from the web of streets in mid-town Oslo following Mikaels slightly harassed instructions in my ear as it went so fast, (gps confused in narrow places, no help) we first saw his and Camillas flat that they had renovated with taste and hard work, then continued after them to meet The Parents who live on a peninsula jutting out into the Oslo-fjord. Nesodden.
Blue eyes smiled, white teeth smiled, we all smiled best we could, but they were a truly delightful couple and made us feel so very welcome, handing out glasses of champagne by the roaring fire that burned and reflected the beautifully laid table. “Kersti hates cooking, so please eat what she produces” Kjell, the father said. We knew we would get along fine after that! Laughing and talking late into the night we came to the conclusion that if our children decided not to marry, there were ways to force them…it was quite a relief and I only noticed later how nervous I had been of meeting them as we dived under our duvets in “Gudridur” though we had the choice of ready made beds in the house. But most of all it was lovely to see how Mikael and Camilla were happy to see us happy.
Kjell wanted to take us sailing in the morning, but the wind changed and instead of sitting on a boat under sunshades for lunch, we wrapped ourselves in sheepskins on the balcony, but outside we did sit!
Kersti is a designer and has her own outlet for clothes “for ladies”, and though the market is tough, has managed to find a niche she fills and took me there to see. I so wanted to find something that I both liked and that fitted me, to please Camilla who is so proud of her mum. And two tops did fit, to perfection, and gallant Mikael bought them for me, either to impress Camilla or make me happy! I don’t care which.
Before heading for the forests of Sweden we stayed with old friends in Oslo who had just got their flat ready after moving from the country-side to the metropolis of Norway. Nothing like it, is there, spending half the night with old mates after having met new ones? And discussing it all in detail with glasses of wine? Not that the wine is essential, but a nice additive to dig out memories from 25 years ago. Oslo is such a provincial town compared to New York, but we think of it as Tokyo! Anything is big after our little Skaftå with 6 houses.
A stiff, cold wind shuffled us towards Sweden, and as the roads improved and the houses got red, we found our way to Arvika where two new “friends”, or hopefully so, had invited us to stay the night after emailing with each other for 2 years, starting after the invites to my my dads 90th birthday party they could not attend: Ingeborg and Ylermi, both in their 80`s. Ylermi knew my dad when young, and I had seen so many photos of him in our family albums, in black and white, that I was sure I must have met him sometime, but no, we were total strangers. But not for long. Odd, how you can meet people for the first time and feel they have been part of your life, for that’s how we felt; warmly welcomed, with mutual friends and interesting conversation with two minds clear and lucid, with so much wisdom stored. And laughter, one does need that! Unusual to see two minds like theirs who thought in so different directions but which love and respect glued together like hard cement: rare and beautiful and much to be learned from.
Weather forecasts kept telling us from the tabloid front-pages that warmth was soon to come. Summer would arrive with +26c into Sweden in 2 days! One likes to believe, but slight scepticism creeps in when its +1, frost in parts and nothing much green anywhere. We were in timber-country and lorries carrying the green gold rumbled past, picking up loads from huge piles along the roads. As we walked along, in one pile we saw a fox trapped in amongst the logs. Dead. Been dead a long time, but still beautiful. Who had put it there? Had it got stuck? Why leave it? Nobody to ask, empty houses with white wood anemones along their paths, stood silently in front of the deep, dark forests. A bird sang. Another lorry passed. Too early for the summer-folk to sit in the windows drinking coffee.
We have mapped country churches in Sweden as best places to camp by. Along small gravel roads one always finds a church, peacefully keeping guard from devils and dark spirits, usually by a lake, with empty flat space to park on. An this time we clocked in two new ones! Woke up at 5 am with the sun high in the sky and the cuckoo making the air reverberate with its spring call in the chill mist. Or as the morning before, to huge herons dancing in a field close by. The mist cleared, would summer come today?
It felt like it, as we peeled more clothes off sitting in a town-cafe along the way, gasping at the cheapness of the bill and how wonderful it was to feel the sun on your skin.
This was the first time we would arrive at the little hamlet of Nyhyttan when there would be no family there to see. Since father moved away to live with my sister in Finland last summer, the house sold, it was only mothers grave by the white church that was part of me. But luckily only the body bit, for many people here are part of my heart! Sorrows and joys shared, memories to dig up. Tractors whizzed passed with much waving, but I had no idea who it was doing it, waving back. What matter?
Trotted over to old friends, for breakfast, lunch and dinner, or an impromtu sandwich with coconut fat (first time) a “shared” smoke or wonderful ramblings in the forests where we heard the warble of the wren, saw how beavers had felled trees and dammed rivers. We crept into chill old mines and saw lumps of ice in deep shady crevasses. Found the rare and protected Blue Wood Anemones, like elusive and shy elves; when children, these were the highest regarded flowers to be able to find and pick for your mum on mothers day. Now, of course, no picking. Or sat in a sunny glade on a little bridge, dangling our legs. When young, we had both “climbed” up Erikaberget, a track that meanders gently up along pine-coned and needled paths to a clearing overlooking Nyhyttan. Up there a fire is lit and sausages, albeit of the veggie variety then, were grilled while young hearts beat faster with potential hand-holding. Now it seemed we had hardly started the climb when we were already there at the top, though the forest is protected and magical in its untouched beauty. We are just used to more stiff climbs than this now.
Summer did come with its promise of +26c, and I could at last use the one T-shirt I had taken along. Just leaned back and let the warmth seep in, knowing this would not last. That’s the core of life, knowing it will not last, making each moment an event. Lichen grew grey and thick, the pine trees reached their gnarled branches towards the sky and a whisper of a blue chiffon scarf over my hair came to mind, dreams of long ago.
I got stuck with a Sudoku one morning. (Doing this to try to make friends with numbers) Asked my friend, she had no clue, but her mum apparently did. So I trotted over, hugging this lovely lady who 50 years ago made me welcome in her kitchen to bake Xmas cookies when we lived in just a room, and asked her for help. “Hmmm. Not an easy one this. But take this and that away, and put 4 here…” Problem solved in about 3 seconds and she is only 93. I need more brain games I think. But help I got and a piece of cake and a hug. What a treasure old people are who have their minds intact. And live life.
I love this place where people trot about in morning gowns, drive smelly tractors, eat birch leaves and pine needles, grow grass for drink or consume ham and cider and smoke to boot. All so different, so individual, somehow untouched by “what others think”. Be yourself here. Nobody looks at you sideways.
Planted a rose on mothers grave. Remembered her hugs. I will never see her again, but she is within me and that is comforting. Nora, the little town we walked about in, all built of wooden houses more quaint than the next, was half asleep still, with only one crappy café open, but all the shops welcoming you with really warm smiles and helpful advice. By the lake the wind was so strong it blew my socks off (if I had worn them), and so we retreated to the gentler, more sheltered forests again before turning our noses towards Norway. Hands waving goodbye, warm hugs.
The heat stayed with us all the way home, even across the mountain passes, where the rivers were swollen twice to their size, a flimsy swinging bridge giving you a feeling you were moved sideways when crossing. The snows were melting in a big way, flooding the lands and making the steep drops to the valleys striped with waterfalls. Like snotty noses. Rainbows appeared over the spray, you felt the thunder under your feet, the earth was on the move. Griegs “To the Spring” was all around you! Birds sang, the sun shone.
But the early Japanese tourists in Voss had their fears; cowering under an umbrella and hoods covering their heads, a group tried to look at the sights without letting one beam of sunshine destroy their pale complexion. What a way to walk through life.
All over Norway church bells were ringing, the annual Confirmations were celebrated and young and old swung about in their national costumes, silver belts glittering and hair blowing in the wind; it’s a day when you become grown up and were sent off to work, had to leave home, thus all the gifts of money from relatives. Now of course its different, but the money keeps flooding in!
In Lærdal the camping place had a summery feel, full as usual, and the sun stayed with us till 21.30 lighting up the old wooden houses that make this place so special. As it was Saturday night, a fever must have been about, for the youth of Lærdal decided “our” place was the very place to party and arrived in American cars with music blaring. We expected beer flowing and worse, but all these wonderful girls and boys did was sit down on the rocks, snogg a bit, laugh a bit and giggle. Not one beer can appeared! This was kept up till about 2am, still light, so who could blame them.
At home a gentle breeze blew, as the sun blazed its kind light down upon us. What joy for starved northern dwellers. We waited long, but not in vain.
And will remember when the rains set in again.
Back to Travel Doors slide show
We left our home by the sea with Edina in the wood shed, the first primroses emerging and some cuckoo flowers trying to make a slight cuckoo noise on the lawn and drove inland. We met more and more icy floes along the river- banks that had got stuck on their way, and virtual house-like blocks of ice still cleaving to the shady spots like quick-glue. Adherent stuff. The lakes were still locked in ice, but the last ski track had been made some time ago when it was still safe to cross.
In Voss, the “Three Brothers“ café was quite full of sporty people in woolly hats, down jackets and even summer frocks, all according to the idea of what a summer temperature was, having reviving cupfuls of coffee and slices of chocolate, apple or carrot cake, all tasty as always. The daring took their beers outside. Along with blankets.
After the tunnels towards Sognefjorden, suddenly we noticed minute mouse-ear like leaves on the birches; they had just about opened. A very faint shimmer of green was shining in the fitful glimpses of sunshine. Spring had sprung!
Our “summer hut” is in Lærdal, where we often park our “Gudridur”, and yes, the spot by the fjord was empty, as we had hoped and expected after 10 years of doing this. There the fjord lay. Full of ducks and dolphins and seagulls, even a seal bobbed about, with the opposite mountain side doing its business of land and rock slides in peace, while in Lærdal only a few minutes away, the camping was chock-a-block with happy, noisy and expectant humanity. As we visited the place I got talking to a cheery little child on a bicycle who asked me if I intended to take pictures of everything on the camping site? And did I really like that ugly bus (there was a veteran bus convention going on) and would I like, just one mind you, of his chocolate-letter- biscuits? I managed to take a picture of his little sister and baby brother who were happily crawling about in their woollies as the parents tried to put up their tent. “We are going to sleep here for 3 nights!” he trilled. Lovely to see people who love these simple joys of life.
A horse-buggy ridden by cheery girls passed, a few cars, then only the sound of rivers and the whisper of the wind disturbed our night. I do love the free, open country side of Norway, could not, I think, live with private property signs stuck all over the place. Would be the trespasser of the year in England!
Further along the road where we stood, big blocks of stone had plummeted down from the heights, some crashing into the fjord, some making big dents in the tarmac and grass…a sign for “no camping here “ was superfluous, the blocks were BIG!
Always a bit nervous when attempting a mountain pass this early in the year, we were relieved to find the road quite bare of ice, though winter reigned all around nearer to the clouds. It had lost its grip though, for houses had emerged from the snow drifts and a few Norwegian flags flew fluttering in the chill air to proclaim their victory. Rivers ran under ice still, but one could hear them like rebellious children trying to break out.
In Oslo we had exciting business to do. Meeting our potential “in-laws” for the first time. Camillas parents had invited us to their home, and after we managed to extricate ourselves from the web of streets in mid-town Oslo following Mikaels slightly harassed instructions in my ear as it went so fast, (gps confused in narrow places, no help) we first saw his and Camillas flat that they had renovated with taste and hard work, then continued after them to meet The Parents who live on a peninsula jutting out into the Oslo-fjord. Nesodden.
Blue eyes smiled, white teeth smiled, we all smiled best we could, but they were a truly delightful couple and made us feel so very welcome, handing out glasses of champagne by the roaring fire that burned and reflected the beautifully laid table. “Kersti hates cooking, so please eat what she produces” Kjell, the father said. We knew we would get along fine after that! Laughing and talking late into the night we came to the conclusion that if our children decided not to marry, there were ways to force them…it was quite a relief and I only noticed later how nervous I had been of meeting them as we dived under our duvets in “Gudridur” though we had the choice of ready made beds in the house. But most of all it was lovely to see how Mikael and Camilla were happy to see us happy.
Kjell wanted to take us sailing in the morning, but the wind changed and instead of sitting on a boat under sunshades for lunch, we wrapped ourselves in sheepskins on the balcony, but outside we did sit!
Kersti is a designer and has her own outlet for clothes “for ladies”, and though the market is tough, has managed to find a niche she fills and took me there to see. I so wanted to find something that I both liked and that fitted me, to please Camilla who is so proud of her mum. And two tops did fit, to perfection, and gallant Mikael bought them for me, either to impress Camilla or make me happy! I don’t care which.
Before heading for the forests of Sweden we stayed with old friends in Oslo who had just got their flat ready after moving from the country-side to the metropolis of Norway. Nothing like it, is there, spending half the night with old mates after having met new ones? And discussing it all in detail with glasses of wine? Not that the wine is essential, but a nice additive to dig out memories from 25 years ago. Oslo is such a provincial town compared to New York, but we think of it as Tokyo! Anything is big after our little Skaftå with 6 houses.
A stiff, cold wind shuffled us towards Sweden, and as the roads improved and the houses got red, we found our way to Arvika where two new “friends”, or hopefully so, had invited us to stay the night after emailing with each other for 2 years, starting after the invites to my my dads 90th birthday party they could not attend: Ingeborg and Ylermi, both in their 80`s. Ylermi knew my dad when young, and I had seen so many photos of him in our family albums, in black and white, that I was sure I must have met him sometime, but no, we were total strangers. But not for long. Odd, how you can meet people for the first time and feel they have been part of your life, for that’s how we felt; warmly welcomed, with mutual friends and interesting conversation with two minds clear and lucid, with so much wisdom stored. And laughter, one does need that! Unusual to see two minds like theirs who thought in so different directions but which love and respect glued together like hard cement: rare and beautiful and much to be learned from.
Weather forecasts kept telling us from the tabloid front-pages that warmth was soon to come. Summer would arrive with +26c into Sweden in 2 days! One likes to believe, but slight scepticism creeps in when its +1, frost in parts and nothing much green anywhere. We were in timber-country and lorries carrying the green gold rumbled past, picking up loads from huge piles along the roads. As we walked along, in one pile we saw a fox trapped in amongst the logs. Dead. Been dead a long time, but still beautiful. Who had put it there? Had it got stuck? Why leave it? Nobody to ask, empty houses with white wood anemones along their paths, stood silently in front of the deep, dark forests. A bird sang. Another lorry passed. Too early for the summer-folk to sit in the windows drinking coffee.
We have mapped country churches in Sweden as best places to camp by. Along small gravel roads one always finds a church, peacefully keeping guard from devils and dark spirits, usually by a lake, with empty flat space to park on. An this time we clocked in two new ones! Woke up at 5 am with the sun high in the sky and the cuckoo making the air reverberate with its spring call in the chill mist. Or as the morning before, to huge herons dancing in a field close by. The mist cleared, would summer come today?
It felt like it, as we peeled more clothes off sitting in a town-cafe along the way, gasping at the cheapness of the bill and how wonderful it was to feel the sun on your skin.
This was the first time we would arrive at the little hamlet of Nyhyttan when there would be no family there to see. Since father moved away to live with my sister in Finland last summer, the house sold, it was only mothers grave by the white church that was part of me. But luckily only the body bit, for many people here are part of my heart! Sorrows and joys shared, memories to dig up. Tractors whizzed passed with much waving, but I had no idea who it was doing it, waving back. What matter?
Trotted over to old friends, for breakfast, lunch and dinner, or an impromtu sandwich with coconut fat (first time) a “shared” smoke or wonderful ramblings in the forests where we heard the warble of the wren, saw how beavers had felled trees and dammed rivers. We crept into chill old mines and saw lumps of ice in deep shady crevasses. Found the rare and protected Blue Wood Anemones, like elusive and shy elves; when children, these were the highest regarded flowers to be able to find and pick for your mum on mothers day. Now, of course, no picking. Or sat in a sunny glade on a little bridge, dangling our legs. When young, we had both “climbed” up Erikaberget, a track that meanders gently up along pine-coned and needled paths to a clearing overlooking Nyhyttan. Up there a fire is lit and sausages, albeit of the veggie variety then, were grilled while young hearts beat faster with potential hand-holding. Now it seemed we had hardly started the climb when we were already there at the top, though the forest is protected and magical in its untouched beauty. We are just used to more stiff climbs than this now.
Summer did come with its promise of +26c, and I could at last use the one T-shirt I had taken along. Just leaned back and let the warmth seep in, knowing this would not last. That’s the core of life, knowing it will not last, making each moment an event. Lichen grew grey and thick, the pine trees reached their gnarled branches towards the sky and a whisper of a blue chiffon scarf over my hair came to mind, dreams of long ago.
I got stuck with a Sudoku one morning. (Doing this to try to make friends with numbers) Asked my friend, she had no clue, but her mum apparently did. So I trotted over, hugging this lovely lady who 50 years ago made me welcome in her kitchen to bake Xmas cookies when we lived in just a room, and asked her for help. “Hmmm. Not an easy one this. But take this and that away, and put 4 here…” Problem solved in about 3 seconds and she is only 93. I need more brain games I think. But help I got and a piece of cake and a hug. What a treasure old people are who have their minds intact. And live life.
I love this place where people trot about in morning gowns, drive smelly tractors, eat birch leaves and pine needles, grow grass for drink or consume ham and cider and smoke to boot. All so different, so individual, somehow untouched by “what others think”. Be yourself here. Nobody looks at you sideways.
Planted a rose on mothers grave. Remembered her hugs. I will never see her again, but she is within me and that is comforting. Nora, the little town we walked about in, all built of wooden houses more quaint than the next, was half asleep still, with only one crappy café open, but all the shops welcoming you with really warm smiles and helpful advice. By the lake the wind was so strong it blew my socks off (if I had worn them), and so we retreated to the gentler, more sheltered forests again before turning our noses towards Norway. Hands waving goodbye, warm hugs.
The heat stayed with us all the way home, even across the mountain passes, where the rivers were swollen twice to their size, a flimsy swinging bridge giving you a feeling you were moved sideways when crossing. The snows were melting in a big way, flooding the lands and making the steep drops to the valleys striped with waterfalls. Like snotty noses. Rainbows appeared over the spray, you felt the thunder under your feet, the earth was on the move. Griegs “To the Spring” was all around you! Birds sang, the sun shone.
But the early Japanese tourists in Voss had their fears; cowering under an umbrella and hoods covering their heads, a group tried to look at the sights without letting one beam of sunshine destroy their pale complexion. What a way to walk through life.
All over Norway church bells were ringing, the annual Confirmations were celebrated and young and old swung about in their national costumes, silver belts glittering and hair blowing in the wind; it’s a day when you become grown up and were sent off to work, had to leave home, thus all the gifts of money from relatives. Now of course its different, but the money keeps flooding in!
In Lærdal the camping place had a summery feel, full as usual, and the sun stayed with us till 21.30 lighting up the old wooden houses that make this place so special. As it was Saturday night, a fever must have been about, for the youth of Lærdal decided “our” place was the very place to party and arrived in American cars with music blaring. We expected beer flowing and worse, but all these wonderful girls and boys did was sit down on the rocks, snogg a bit, laugh a bit and giggle. Not one beer can appeared! This was kept up till about 2am, still light, so who could blame them.
At home a gentle breeze blew, as the sun blazed its kind light down upon us. What joy for starved northern dwellers. We waited long, but not in vain.
And will remember when the rains set in again.
Back to Travel Doors slide show