Adventure in Sweden - 9.19.2010

After a day of planes and a night of art, music, and the chilly air of autumn I love so much, I slept late into the morning. Suzanne and her fiance Bennet shared a beautiful brunch with me. I like my Sundays lazy and slow. Sunday in Sweden was just that. A long walk. A cat nap while Suzanne and Bennet voted (it was election time.) A family dinner at Siv's. I think this first full day made me finally realize that I was actually in Sweden.

Lake Mälaren
Suzanne and her dog, Mimmi, took me down to the edge of the lake. We parked the car and explored the new boutique that had just opened in the old tulhusset (customs house.) We walked out of the harbor and roamed for well over an hour, maybe two, among the apartment buildings by the water. We crossed the red bridge to more apartments. Past an old and unused brick building. Around some old boat sheds. We paused at a lighthouse boat to peek inside and walk to the bow. At the marina, far from where we started, we turned back.

Adventure in Sweden - 09.18.2010

Traveling requires patience and preparation. I packed my suitcase the day before and I made sure I had my passport, iPod, and a warm scarf. But of course, plans including airports and airplanes rarely go smoothly. To save money I booked two flights: EasyJet from Amsterdam to London and Ryanair from London to Västerås. To fly direct from Amsterdam was too expensive.

I had to wake up around 6:30am to get dressed and get to Purmerend for the 7am train. It took about fifty minutes to get to the airport but at least I didn't have to take any transfers. I bought some breakfast first thing then discovered that my first flight was delayed by 45 minutes. All I could do was wait and try not to bite my nails about possibly missing the flight out from London. EasyJet and Ryanair are discount airlines or "busses with wings" which means there are no seat assignments and everyone lines up then rushes to board for best choice of seats. So I waited for the gate number to be posted. Then I waited in line for security. Then I waited in a tense line at the gate, everyone eager to get on ahead of the people around them.

At London Stanstead it is a maze of escalators and busy corridors to get from one of the terminal to another. And then a tram to get to the central building where one has to go through Border Control and security again even if they are taking a connecting flight. And then another tram to get to the next terminal. With all the lines and stress of getting where I needed to be on time I completely passed out on the plane to Sweden. When we landed, unloaded, and lined up to have our passports checked I felt like I was dreaming. I couldn't believe I was in Sweden. Even after Suzanne and Siv welcomed me with warm hugs in the lobby I still couldn't grasp the fact that I was in Sweden.

As we drove back to Suzanne's apartment the first thing I noticed were the trees. Tall, thick, masses of trees. The Holland that I know is flat, green pastures. Moist air, misty mornings, and canal. In Sweden the crisp air, the trees, and their leaves' faint prelude to fall immediately reminded me of Minnesota. That is when I felt safe even though I still felt like I was dreaming. That feeling of comfort and love never faded or faltered once during my stay.

Västerås Kulturnatt (Culture Night)
Fortunately, my first night in Sweden lined up perfectly with Västerås' annual culture night. Various events and activities were hosted throughout the city by all sorts of businesses, galleries, museums, and what not. It was the perfect introduction for me because we spent the night walking around the city from one place to the next.

Suzanne and I began with a local vocalist's recital of Edith Piaf songs since Edith is a favorite of mine. "Je Ne Regrette Rien" echoed in my head from then on. As we walked towards our next point of interest we stopped at Formgruppen which is a local craftsmen's shop that sells wool, ceramic, and wood creations.


Then we continued on to the new Karlsgatan which had just opened the previous weekend. We listened to Torbjörn Grass play a twelve string guitar and harp guitar. Then we wandered the gallery. I found a painting by Elsa Backlund-Celsing that I'd love to share with you but I didn't take a picture and I can't find one on the internet.

We met Siv at the Konserthusset and attempted to watch some couples doing the tango but the crowd was too large. So, we packed ourselves in line for the dance school's recital in the large auditorium. From there we marched arm in arm to listen to the Maria Choir in the warm, candlelit Domkyrka.

My first night in Sweden ended with a bang. The closing of culture night was celebrated with fire dancers in front of the town hall and fireworks from the bell tower.

Adventure in Sweden: An Introduction

Tomorrow I will begin a seven day sequence of posts about my seven days in Sweden. It would be impossible for me to include every detail and much will be left out. Some unintentionally so. In order to prevent any confusion I shall set the stage.

I stayed in Västerås which is approximately 53 minutes west from Stockholm by train. It sits on the shores of Lake Mälaren which stretches all the way to the Baltic Sea. Every night, except two, I was hosted by my mother's Swedish "sister", Suzanne. I brought one suitcase. I took over five-hundred pictures. I had the time of my life.


Grandma Sue.


In order to give you a sense of what going to Sweden meant to me I shall tell you a story.*

Once upon a time in Sweden there was a girl named Greta who fell in love with a boy named Emil. Emil left Sweden for the great land of opportunity, America. Greta had to wait until she was twenty-one before she could join him. Her family was sad to see her go, especially her sister, Helga. In 1920 Greta traveled to the US all by herself and married Emil. Not too long after the birth of their first child, they bought a beautiful new house on Rose Avenue in St. Paul, Minnesota. They raised six children in that house. Five girls and one boy. One of the daughters, Susan, is my maternal grandmother.

Every three months Helga would receive a letter from Greta in the US with updates on her children and life in the US. After some time these letters began to include updates on her grandchildren. My great-grandmother Greta died barely a year after I was born. All that is left of the one time I met her, when I was too young to remember and too chubby to walk just yet, is a photograph. My mother named me after Emil by combining two female names she liked that still echoed his.

Helga also had many children. The youngest is Siv. My grandmother and Siv are cousins. While growing up Grandma Sue returned to Sweden with her parents a few times through the years to visit the branches of the family that remained in the homeland.

In 1972-1973, Siv's stepdaughter, Suzanne, lived and went to John Marshall High School with my mother. They have stayed in touch since. I met Suzanne and her son Erik, who is two years younger than me, for the first time in 2000 when they visited the US. I was twelve at the time and I don't think I had any concept of how big the world is and how small it can be at the same time. Or how it is such a blessing to have a family full of history and love. Flash forward ten years and four generations down. Emil and Greta left Sweden but Sweden never left my family. And I finally got to go "home."

*Some details are not precise. I'll have to double check my facts but this is a true story.