Memoirous

My days in Skene were centered around Ulrika and her family. Time here is very fluid and the most important thing is to relax, because eventually something will happen, people will gather their things, start a project at midnight, or simply sit around a table as the room grows dark and they light candles while we continue to chat. I've come to find over my years of travel that the people I collect and know are not “typical.” Yesterday started with a typical Swedish breakfast at a point sometime before noon. Typical in the sense that they emptied out the refrigerator onto the table. There were tea choices, juice options, and, of course, 3 or 4 cheeses, meats, and fish tin tins along with spreads and an array of toppings. Then there was the bread–three or four different kinds. There is no stopping the Swedish breakfast train. After eating we went to the second-hand store. It's not just me, but everyone loves to get a deal. I found more things for my daughter and grandsons. Then w...

When Ulrika mentioned we would leave early, I had my own idea. She just meant before 2 pm. AFTER the Swedish breakfast. They had prepared their camper or caravan for me to sleep in. It was absolutely perfect. My own potty, electric cooker for tea, and a cozy bed. I felt like the New Zealand author Janet Frame in the dramatized bio movie, Angel at my Table (very last scene). So because we had such a late dinner, this a.m. we had what was intended as our after dinner (last night's) snack. Nevertheless, a full smorgasbord. Ulrika said before we depart (noon?) we'll have a second breakfast with eggs and bacon to hopefully catch up. I'm personally not sure I can eat a second breakfast after all that I had at the ender/starter meal. After eating again we left for Stockholm around 2. We stopped at a roadside plaza for the restroom and to climb around in an abandoned castle. I know, not what you'd expect in the US. It was modest, with a tower and several rooms, built in the mid...

  Friday, September 5 Tranas to Boras to Skene, meeting up with Ulrika. This a.m Lotta came downstairs in her robe saying she was going to jump in the lake. I declined to join her. She relished the idea it would be cold. These Nords! So calm, so practical. Let's see. I started my trip picking up a package at my hostel from Lotta of trekking poles and a folding knife and a nondescript envelope of money. Approximately $50 cash, since I couldn't get any in the States before leaving. I was to pay her back after getting to Tranas and pulling out currency. My train left Stockholm station so early, my plan was to open the package before boarding and leave the box for trash. I was reminded of the opening to the old TV show, Mission Impossible, my mission if I chose to accept it, was to hike Kungsleden. I accept. So my trip began with intrigue, the feeling of subterfuge, working undercover. Lotta's mission if she chose to accept it was to get me to the bus station in Granna on time ...