Saturday in Stockholm

Saturday morning—July 17
Stockholm

We have been very ambitious tourists in Sweden. We arrived here last Wednesday about midday on a brief flight from Copenhagen and rode a taxi for 35 minutes to the Gilbertson’s exchange home in the northern suburb of Spanga—that’s “Spong-a”, but I can’t write the little dot above the first “a” to indicate its sound. We spent Wednesday orienting ourselves to the nice home, a newer three bedroom residence with lots of windows. The windows are handy because the weather has been beautiful but warm, and we have appreciated any available breeze, especially at night. The home comes complete with a newer Volvo that is air-conditioned and with a GPS that speaks English. With the Copenhagen home the car’s GPS spoke only Danish, and we eventually learned the words for “right” and “left”, fortunately. It is a bit intimidating to begin driving a nice new car where you are totally unfamiliar with the surroundings and completely dependent on a soft but strange feminine voice to guide you to the grocery store. Phil handles it well and courageously, and the rest of us offer him lots of friendly advice.
On Thursday we drove three hours north of here to a small town named Sundborn to view the home of the famous Swedish artist Carl Larsson. Both Rose Ann and Carole have been big fans of his paintings for years, and since Phil is studying Swedish art this place was a high priority on our list of destinations. The drive was pleasant, and the day was sunny and not too hot, and we enjoyed about three hours at the Larsson home. Larsson lived from 1853-1919, and he and his wife raised 8 children in this home. He managed to make a living as an artist, and most all of his popular paintings feature his family and his home. It’s still possible to recognize his home and yard in his paintings. After the deaths of their parents the Larsson children chose to maintain the home as a place for Swedes and others to come to and appreciate their father’s work. In fact, a cute little girl—maybe 4 years old—was holding a tray to give out crackers with jam, and I was told she is Larsson’s great, great granddaughter who lives nearby. There is a pleasant restaurant serving traditional Swedish food on the grounds, and there are tour guides and a shop, but it certainly doesn’t feel like a tourist trap. About a half mile down the road is a church where in his later years Larsson did some decorative painting, so we walked there also. I’m sure the town doesn’t number more than 500 people, and it is filled with red-painted homes with white trim and features a tranquil river flowing through it. We made a whole day of the journey with 6 hours of driving and three hours of soaking up Larsson’s story and his art.
On Friday we left the home early to take a train into Stockholm’s Central Station, only a 10 minute ride, and walked about 10 blocks to the harbor where we boarded a ferry to tour the archipelago. Northern Minnesota’s boundary waters and Washington’s San Juan Islands would be in the same category as this area around Stockholm—lots of islands begging to be explored. The Swedes love this country, and many of them maintain summer homes or rustic cabins on islands that might hold only one home or bigger islands that resemble a town. The ferries were full of day-trippers and residents either going home or into the city for supplies. We didn’t run into many other out of country tourists. On the 3 hour ride outbound we enjoyed a leisurely fine lunch served in the dining room. We stopped at several islands to hike around and explore, and finally we spent some time in the clear, cold water. I even took a half hour nap in the shade. Returning to Stockholm we leisurely walked through the city to the train. It was our most ambitious touring day, and we returned home 12 hours after we had left.
Today is our last day here, so we are resting. We’ll take a brief trip into the city to pick up our bus tickets for tomorrow’s journey to Oland (pronounced Ooo-lan) a long, narrow island about 150 miles south of here. The bus eventually boards a ferry for an hour and a half to take us to a town close to where our friend Jerker has a summer cabin. We’ll join him and his wife for two nights there followed by a day of tourist travel before going to a Stockholm hotel the night before we fly home.
We have found great delight in what Swedes love—great natural beauty in ocean, lakes, and trees; long days filled with sunlight and cool breezes; simple food and drink; and abundant time with great friends.