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Friday, April 26, 2013

GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE: June 24 Norway

Thursday June 24 
OSLO, NORWAY
At 7.30am we arrived at Oslo East Station, now amalgamated into Sentralstasjon, Oslo's Central Station. Here Donna and I sorted out our finances over a cafe breakfast.  It was delicious and just what we had both needed after spending overnight on a train.

We then wasted a frustrating hour, or more, trying to find the Tourist Information Centre, finally  locating it, a mile from the station, through a maze of city streets. I sincerely hope that it has since been moved to a more convenient location to Oslo's Central Station - one that tourists can find without needing to be language or cypher experts!

By 9.30am, Donna and I were finally armed with pamphlets, and a map of the city and our earlier frustrations soon evaporated in the excitement of a busily culture-laden day of activities.
Full of youthful enthusiasm and confidence, we headed directly for the Munch Museum to Edvard Munch's masterpiece "The Scream"
Edvard Munch
by kind courtesy of 
Edvard Munch was never married. But he referred to his paintings as "his children" and could not bear to be parted from them.  He lived a solitary life on his estate outside Oslo for the last 27 years of his life. Although his reputations inceased, he chose to remain isolated, surrounding himself with the entire panoply of his lifetime of creations.
When he died in 1944, at the age of 80, the authorities discovered, hidden behind locked doors on the second floor of his house, a collection of 1,008 paintings, 4,443 drawings and 15,391 prints, as well as woodcuts, etchings, lithographs, lithographic stones, woodcut blocks, copperplates and photographs.
The final irony of Munch's life is that today, he is famous as the creator of a single image that has all but obscured his lifelong influence and achievements as a pioneer painter and printmaker.
The Scream is the artist's most famous image. He reproduced it many times, and in different media: painting, drawings and prints. In his diary, in an entry headed, Nice 22 January 1892, Munch described his inspiration for the image: 
One evening, I was walking along a path, the city was on one side and the fjord below. I felt tired and ill. I stopped and looked out over the fjord - the sun was setting and the clouds turning blood red. I sensed a scream passing through nature; it seemed to me that I heard the scream. I painted this picture, painted the clouds as actual blood. The colour shrieked. This became The Scream. 
the above excerpt taken from:   
www.artic.edu/aic/collections/exhibitions/Munch/resource/171
It was an epic moment for me to be there just feeling the raw emotion of Munch's masterpiece. It was centrally placed, commanding an uninterrupted view from two adjacent directions. Initially, I was surprised by its size, and gazed at it for a long time. The subject matter itself soon commanded all my attention, inexorably drawing me, inviting me to identify with Nature's Scream.

Donna's tap on my shoulder brought me back to reality, reminding me that it was time for us to leave the Munch Gallery, and walk back to the centre of Oslo to see the famous City Hall.

photo by kind courtesy of www.ardenwebsales.com
Every year, on December 10, the Nobel Peace Prize is awarded during a ceremony at Oslo's impressive City Hall, a modern structure that captures the history and culture of Norway. 
photo by kind courtesy of www.mayang.com 
The brick facade of Oslo City Hall is decorated with historical themes. Two tall towers and an enormous clock echo the design of traditional northern-European town halls.
the above excerpt taken from
http://architecture.about.com/od/greatbuildings/ss/OsloCityHall.htm

The warm sunshine beckoned us both outdoors. So after taking in the glorious interior of the Oslo City Hall, we took the tram to

by kind courtesy of http://oslo-norway.ca/attractions/frognerparken.html
The tram ride was short. And the 26C (82F) sunshine, tempered by a warm breeze, ensured that our extended ramble through Frognor Park was a most enjoyable outdoor experience.

This beautiful urban park in Oslo is where the world-famous Vigelandsparken is situated. The park contains 200 amazing fountains and sculptures created by Gustav Vigeland, that are integrated into the beautiful setting.

Gustav Vigeland (1869-1943) worked on the sculpture park from 1924 until his death in 1943.  Frogner Park is a "must-see" for all visitors to Oslo.

As I had done many times in the parks of central London, I shed my shoes and walked barefoot through the soft, cool grass. For the few minutes it took to reach Vigeland's Sculptures, my feet were cool, relaxed and happy.  Then it was back to concrete walkways which necessitated sneakers. But seeing Vigeland's epic outdoor exhibit close up was worth all the effort involved in getting there.

VIGELAND SCULPTURES 
The Vigeland Sculptures depicts human experience, and expresses through bronze, granite and cast iron, the joys and sorrows, frailty, hardship, hopes and humour of everyday life.  Each figure, or group of figures, evocatively depicts human emotion to convey how friendships and family connections create meaning in the Circle of Life.
Vigelandsparken is one of Norway's most visited attractions. The unique sculpture park is the life work of sculptor Gustav Vigeland, who also designed the Nobel Peace Prize Medal.  With more than 200 sculptures, in three different media, Vigeland was also responsible for the design and architectural outline of the park: a monumental artistic creation with a human message that is well worth seeing.
 above excerpt taken from
http://www.visitoslo.com/en/product/?TLp=181601&Vigeland-Sculpture-Park

photo by kind courtesy of  www.activistchat.com 
 Press here to see more photos of the inspirational Vigeland Sculptures 

Frognor Park is so extensive that it took several hours for us to properly appreciate the sculptures.  Indeed, we became so engrossed with the massive exhibit that we'd completely missed having lunch. So we decided to take the tram to the town centre, where we enjoyed an early smorbrod supper.

by kind courtesy of scandikitchen.typepad.com 

Suitably fortified, Donna and I decided to spend the rest of that afternoon and evening in separate pursuits and meet at the train later. I then caught the ferry to the 
home of the Kon-tiki, the raft used by Thor Heyerdhal to sail across the Pacific Ocean.
by kind courtesy of
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Bygd%C3%B8y_lovely.jpg
Because I had lingered in Frognor Park, I arrived at the Kon-Tiki with only a few minutes to spare before the exhibit closed for the day.  
by kind courtesy of www.kon-tiki.no
I would have dearly liked to spend more time in the presence of Thor Hyerdahl's iconic raft. But revelling in its voyage and adventure was not to be.  How quickly time seemed to vanish that day.

Reluctantly leaving the museum at 6.30pm, I rambled along the coastline to the

 Norsk Folkemuseum 
which is part of the Norsk Museum of Cultural History
by kind courtesy of 
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Norsk_folkemuseum_0.jpg
There I saw Norwegian national houses in   picturesque village setting, and happily watched lively displays of folk dancing till 8pm

by kind courtesy of 
http://www.bestourism.com/img/items/big/7382/Norwegian-Museum-of-Cultural-History_Folk-dances_11484.jpg
Thoroughly exhausted and quite time-disoriented, I left the museum. Then, I climbed a cliff, clambering over rocks like a mountain goat.

Upon arriving at the top of that 'cliff', I inadvertently entered private property and, worse, gate-crashed someone's grand garden party.
by kind courtesy of
Almost a hundred people were gathered in an exquisitely tended garden. Women were dressed in long Victorian laceand wore splendid hats in addition to the obligatory parasol. I thought perhaps a theatre group were practising a play there, till I noticed the lavish spread that had been provided.

Couples and small groups of friends were quietly sharing refreshments at large ornate iron tables that perched at the edge of the manicured lawn. Except for the quantity and style of food upon the table, the entire scene felt more English than Norwegian to me!

My body was living in 1976, yet my mind was witnessing
an idyllic scene from a hundred years earlier.
Was the long Scandinavian summer twilight
playing tricks on my perception of time?
Where was I?  
Or more precisely - WHEN was I?

Time seemed to be slipping, slipping.... 
but into the past, not the future!

I had had no intention of intruding upon this, or any, gathering. And much as I was curious about what exactly was happening there, time was of the essence. To catch the last ferry of the day back to the city, I had to navigate a path through that garden to the entry gate of the property.  I could not return from whence I had come. There simply wasn't enough time!

Moving hurriedly and awkwardly through the throng of polite society, I mumbled abject apologies for my intrusio. Then I walked, as quickly as possible, towards the ornately carved gates of what seemed to be an extensive country estate.  Later, when I looked at my map for its name, it seemed not to exist.

With no time to ponder where or 'when' I had visited or what had just happened, I reached the road and thumbed a ride to the 8.20pm ferry.  It was the last ferry of the day off that peninsula.

For once in my life, I was at a loss for words, but very happy not to have been asked to explain myself! How could I, when I didn't have any idea what had just happened to me.

by kind courtesy of 
http://www.visitoslo.com/en/product/?TLp=181623
FERRY WEDDING
I anticipated using the short ferry journey to centre myself and make sense of my odd experience.

But it was a small boat, and I was the only 'tourist' on board.  So when the other three passengers struck up a friendly conversation in English with me, it would have been churlish not to reply.

Dagfin, Ghost and Anna were three English-speaking Norwegians who were working and studying in Oslo.

Dagfin was very playful and amusing, and he was also unabashedly attracted to my dark looks. Announcing to his friends that fate had brought us together 'at sea' so that we could be married, Dagfin tied together our sneaker shoelaces.  Once we were both thoroughly immobilized, he jokingly announced that, by Norwegian Maritime Law, we were now officially married!  Amazingly, my participation in this event had been totally unnecessary!

In the space of 10 minutes, our brief encounter had precipitated an umpromptu maritime wedding! Very weird indeed! But then my entire evening felt like I'd stepped into an alternate dimension.

The ridiculousness of Dagfin's execution of our brief and highly irregular marriage ceremony made all aboard chuckle, which was the perfect way to break my reverie and end a very busy day of sight-seeing.

Dagfin's antics aside, my three new friends seemed like a level-headed, interesting group of intellectuals with whom to converse for an hour or so that evening. So, when the ferry docked and they invited me for drinks, I happily agreed to accompany them.  My only request was that they escort me to Sentralstasjon for my train connection to Copenhagen on time....which they did.

10.40 TO COPENHAGEN
by kind courtesy of http://grist.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/scandinavia_map.jpg
As I was retrieving my back pack from the station locker, my travel companion met me with vexing news.  Donna had arrived early, intent on reserving our couchettes for that night's journey.  But she  discovered that there were not enough couchettes for all the passengers travelling first-class.  On the contrary, they were at a premium and thus available only on a first-come-first-served basis.

More practised travellers knew this, so all couchettes on the Oslo to Copenhagen train had sold out that morning, while Donna and I were eating a leisurely breakfast!  No wonder the cafe had been so empty!

Donna and I were thus forced to travel in a 2nd class carriage, since all 1st class carriages were made up with couchettes.  Instead of a horizontal and restful night's sleep after our busy day of sight-seeing, we had to catch naps whilst sitting upright on the incredibly uncomfortable second class seats. There were no reclining seats in 2nd Class, and not much padding on them either.

I tried to meditate, but in vain. Between crying infants and partying teenagers, there was little peace to be had in our carriage.  It was even difficult to ponder the experiences of my busy but interesting day in Oslo. And when I finally did sleep, my dream was downright bizarre!
I was at a lavish outdoor Victorian wedding, set in Frognor Park. Half the guests were in Victorian finery while the rest were dressed like ancient Vikings. The latter somehow managed to sail their full-sized ships through each of the fountains in Frognor Park, whilst simultaneously carousing with tourists amid the Vigeland sculptures. There was more, but you get the gist!
Despite the vivid adventures of my technicolor dream world, to say we enjoyed the ride to Copenhagen would be a gross overstatement. But Donna and I did have some amazing memories of our jam-packed day in Oslo to share, during the first part of our journey south above Oslo harbour and Fjord.

Donna had been stunned enough to learn that I had been "married" on a ferry! So I decided not tell her that I gate-crashed a Victorian Garden party.  She already thought of me as weird and reckless, and I was in no hurry to confirm her assessment of my character!

The scenery was spectacular and Scandinavia's summer sunshine meant we could actually see the view, even though it was almost midnight.
by kind courtesy of oslo-norway.ca 

To pass time, I mentally calculated the distance travelled from London to Copenhagen, our next destination. Discounting the miles we walked around towns and cities, to-from-or-within their exhibits, I estimated we covered a staggering  5395km or 3270 miles of territory by rail, ferry and airplane.

That distance is equivalent to one-eighth of our planet's circumference. And we'd only been travelling for one week.

No wonder we were so tired!  

Thankfully, relief was at hand. We were going
to Denmark specifically to relax and play!
At least that was my intention
NEXT WEEK!
June 25-26
Denmark
Auntie Stine's Cottage
Kronberg (Hamlet's) Castle
Sex on the Beach
Tivoli 
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Friday, April 19, 2013

GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE: June 22-23 Sweden North to South (956 miles)

Tuesday June 22:  
Kiruna to Luleå (163 miles)


I returned to my Ferrum hotel room to sleep for a few of hours, after Kurt left for work at 5am. Donna and I then shared a leisurely, silent, breakfast before we boarded the 10am train to Luleå on the
by kind courtesy of www.worldatlas.com 
My companion did not say much at all during that trip.  And I was simply too tired to ask why. Discovering the reason for her lack of conversation would have to wait until I'd slept off the rigours of the previous night.

At 2.30pm we arrived at Luleå (Loo-lay-oh) a university city on the coast of northern Sweden, not far from the border with Finland.
by kind courtesy of www.newfriends.se
Our overnight train connection to Stockholm was not due to leave till 9 pm. So Donna and I secured our couchettes for later, stowed our packs in the station lockers for the day and then decided to spend a few hours apart from each other. 

 Ostensibly, we would later be able to share our individual experiences during the long journey to Stockholm.  But, privately, I knew we both required an extended 'time-out' from each other.

 THE UNIVERSITY TOWN OF LULEA
by kind courtesy of  www.mtu.edu 
NORBOTTEN MUSEUM
by kind courtesy of


This is one of 24 regional museums in Sweden. It is the county museum which serves the vast Norbotten area of Northern Sweden.

There are always changing temporary exhibitions on display, many in the fields of contemporary art, photography and local cultural history. Permanent collections deal with archaeological finds and the history of the area.

The main building in Luleå was built in 1936, but the museum has projects all over the north involving archeology, archive and photo, documentation, art, cultural tourism and education.

I enjoyed the detailed archeological history of the area. And the simple yet vivid Lapp history that lives on through their weaving and domestic crafts warmed my heart. A nation that preserves, with such care, the contributions of their ancestors, teaches its children the true value of family.

by kind courtesy of: www.potolkimaker.com 
It was odd to stroll alone through a town where few spoke, or even understood English. Here, I was a stranger in a strange land that looked like a cross between a town in America's wild west and a traditional Swedish village, like the one re-created in Skansen.

Its shops were modern, and the people on the street were conservative and quiet in both dress and manner. The town seemed to have escaped the social chaos of the 60s and early 70s.

Buildings seemed purpose-built to withstand the extremes of weather. And I especially admired the civic common sense that provided a sheltered boardwalk, alongside but, necessarily, higher than the road.  Pedestrians thus have access to shops throughout the heaviest snowfalls of Luleå's long, dark winters.

The Gulf of Bothnia borders at the eastern edge of Luleå. Here, I selected a sun-warmed rock upon which I sat cross-legged and meditated for an hour. Listening to the waters lapping against the rocks whilst breathing in the heavenly aroma of flowers that emanated from this unexpected jewel of a town was a real pleasure.  And being happily alone in my reverie was an added bonus.

        BEAUTIFUL LULEA
by kind courtesy of www.isep.org
On that first full day of summer, however, flowers bloomed in the smallest nooks and crannies of that little seaside town.  And their sweet fragrance continue to waft into memory, beckoning me back to Luleå.


Tuesday June 22:  
Luleå to Stockholm (521 miles)

Donna and I were later reunited on the station platform in plenty of time to board the overnight sleeper. We had both stocked up on food and drinks, since we had discovered that the journey back to Stockholm would take 16 hours or more. 

The long, bright evening, played havoc with my internal clock, so I spent much of the night awake. It gave me the opportunity to write up my journal, after which I found a way to get some air.

Precariously perched between the moving carriages, I enjoyed the breeze created by the moving train, and listened, for a while, to the clickety-clack of the rails.

EURAIL THROUGH SWEDEN 
by kind courtesy of http://www.eurail.com/trains-europe/trains-country/trains-sweden
The train travelled almost due southwards through Norbotten. The scenery changed only gradually, the dry winds and treeless mountains of this northern zone resembling those of Dornoch on the North East coast of Scotland.

    NORBOTTEN SCENERY
by kind courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org 
But this open landscape yielded first to evergreens, then to birch forests and  finally, to well-tended farms and larger towns.  Sweden's traditional  red houses, with steep pitched roofs, were in evidence throughout the country.

TRADITIONAL SWEDISH RED HOUSE
by kind courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org

It is a tribute to the sensibilities of the Swedes that long before our train entered each humble town or hamlet, the heavenly fragrance of its blooming summer gardens would welcome us.

This warm, floral greeting from one household to another was a visible overture of friendship.  It took time and effort to produce such gardens.

I applaud their dedication and found the results as tender as they were was stylish.  But this combination of soft yet strong, distant yet welcoming, sensitive yet stylish is - as I was learning - typical of Swedes. When they can neither see nor touch those with whom they are connecting, they simply utilize their remaining senses to explore alternate ways of communicating.

After eight uninterrupted hours of sleep on the train, Donna and I reached Stockholm at 1pm in fair condition. Since we would catch the overnight train to Oslo that same night, we again parked our back-packs in the station lockers. Then we reserved our couchettes and headed out for the day.

Wednesday June 23 1pm: Stockholm
Our attempt to tour Stockholm without a guide was a totally disastrous experience! Happy to be walking instead of riding in a train, we had wandered through the city streets, and soon become hopelessly lost.  Happily a friendly Frenchman helped us to choose a tour, then gave me his phone number and address in Paris, for whenever we arrived there!

STOCKHOLM FROM THE HARBOUR 
by kind courtesy of http://www.tripadvisor.com/Tourism-g189852-Stockholm-Vacations.html

We finally decided to take a Canal and Harbour Tour of Stockholm, ending at the Vasa Museum.

The view of the city from the vantage point of a canal cruise is not to be missed.  Donna seemed to have shaken off her depression.  And we had come to a wordless truce upon stepping off the train at Stockholm.
Truce is good!!

MODEL OF THE VASA
by kind courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Vasa_stern_color_model.jpg
We were standing in front of the original timbers of an ancient Viking warship. 
The Vasa is the world's oldest boat, and was dredged up from the bottom of Stockholm harbour in 1961. 
Built in 1628, the Vasa was designed to be the jewel of Sweden's navy.  BUT, on the very day it was launched, it tragically sank, right in front of a cheering crowd of thousands.  
There is still something haunting about this ship, perched on its stand inside the museum, bristling with hundreds of baroque carvings, and the massive guns that dragged it to its watery death.
Now reclaimed from the watery grave, the Vasa currently resides in its own specially-built edifice. The humidity level within this museum is kept uncomfortably high, to preserve the centuries' old timbers.  Without this important precaution, the ancient wood would disintegrate and turn to dust.

After Vasa, Donna and I amicably decided to go our separate ways for the day.  Solo exploration was no hardship for me, especially since I had originally intended on taking this trip solo. I find it easier to know my true responses to new places when I am completely alone.  Of course, being alone in Europe was not going to be easy.  Especially with a travelling companion in tow.

 Donna was a colleague whom I had known only peripherally, until the day she 'decided' she would 'join me' on my carefully planned, and much anticipated, solo Grand Tour of Europe. At first her decision thoroughly irritated me. But, eventually, I reasoned that sharing lodging and some food expenses might lessen both of our expenses. With little fanfare, my plan to travel solo was thus expanded to include another.

My Mother had been ecstatic that I would not be travelling the length and breadth of Europe alone.  And since Donna spent most of her travelling hours reading, she was hardly much of an imposition.  We had only ever been professional acquaintances, never friends, so it was inevitable that our personalities might clash from time to time.

And clash they did for the frenetic pace of our first four days of travelling together, though exciting, had also been stressful. It was inevitable that cracks would appear in our relationship. Donna and I had grown up in different worlds, and had radically different approaches to life and how to live it.

by kind courtesy of motivationalplus.com
My purpose in travelling was two-fold:
  1. to know each nation's soul through its contributions to its citizens and humanity via SCience,  the Arts, Edu-ca-tion and Architecture. 
  2. to learn new ideas and customs through interactions with dwellers and other travellers.
I had no idea why Donna was travelling.  
I suspected that this trip would test us both to the core. It would either cement our friendship or we would part ways, never to meet again. And, oddly, I was  ambivalent about the outcome.

DJURGARDEN
After we separated at the steamy Vasa museum, I thoroughly enjoyed the warm, breezy walk through the leafy pathways of Djurgarden. With nobody else around, I focused on the intense colours of the leaves and grasses on the banks of the stream, wondering what made them so incredibly vibrant.

I concluded that the same shallow angle of the sun in these northern latitudes that permits almost 24 hour of summertime sunshine, alters the way in which our eyes see colour. We get the same effect at lower latitudes but it is only at sunrise and sunset that sunlight slants in on the same shallow angle.  But the light levels in the mid-latitude sunset and sunrise are far weaker than those that created the brightly glowing greens I witnessed that afternoon in Djurgarden.

My spirit felt very peaceful in this place of magical light and bright translucent colour.

Even the songbirds were happy and the whole forest was alive with sound.  So, when I was sure no-one could hear me, I whistled a song back to them. Then I remained very still, as a curious male thrush hopped into view to check out the even more curious human who was singing to him.

Although it was once the game park that fed the household of Sweden's Royalty, Djurgarden was donated to the government in 1948.  It is now open for everyone to wander through and enjoy, and is a delightful place in which to unwind during the early summertime.

"Djurgarden", an original painting by Marcus Forslund, perfectly captures the translucent greens and carefree spirit of Djurgarden for me.
  
Standing proudly at the edge of The Baltic Sea in the grounds of Djurgarden is

 WALDEMARSUDDE 
Home of Sweden's "Painter" Prince 
by kind courtesy of panoramio/photos/medium/63389301.jpg

The youngest of Oscar II's four children, Prince Eugen (1865-1947) was more interested in becoming an artist than in inheriting the throne. Turns out he was no Sunday painter; he became one of the great landscape artists of his day, referred to as the "The Painter Prince" by Swedes. Today, his former home and studio, one of the most visited museums in Sweden, serves as an art gallery and a memorial to his talents. 
This lovely three-story mansion on the water was acquired by the prince in 1899, and he lived here until his death. The house and park were willed to the Swedish government upon his death and opened to the public in 1948. The rooms on the ground floor are furnished just as the prince left them. You can see the prince's paintings upstairs and in the gallery adjoining. The prince was not only a painter, but a collector, acquiring works by such great Scandinavian artists as Edvard Munch, Carl Larsson, and Anders Zorn. The prince's studio is on the top floor and is used for temporary exhibitions. 
The garden has centuries-old trees and panoramic views of Stockholm harbour. That's not all: The park is filled with sculptures by some of the greatest masters in Europe -- Carl Milles to Auguste Rodin -- and is also studded with classical Roman and Greek sculptures acquired by the art-loving prince. 
taken from http://www.frommers.com/destinations/stockholm/A21031.html
What joy it was to saunter slowly through the perfumed flower-laden grounds to the waterside villa, which now houses the Prince's paintings.

WALDEMARRSUDE WINDMILL
by kind courtesy of commons.wikipedia.org
From Waldemarsudde, I noticed the Old Mill, a windmill built in the 1780s by the water's edge in Djurgarden.

This windmill somehow felt very familiar to me! Although I knew I had not seen it before that very moment, just the sight of it elicited very deep, real feelings of joy and good fellowship.

It would be several weeks before I was 
to discover WHY I had such strong 
feelings about this place  

 And that process of discovery would blow my mind!

After thoroughly gorging myself on nature and art at Waldermarsudde, I caught a bus to the station, where I met Judy from Australia, who had also booked passage on the same overnight train to Oslo. We shared a meal together, chatting amiably about our travel experiences to date.

Wednesday June 23 10pm: Stockholm to Oslo (270 miles)
Before the train was to depart, I was also reunited with Donna.  Still disinclined to engage her in a meaningful discussion about whatever was bothering her, I spent the first part of the journey in conversation with Judy.  Then, around midnight, I bid them each a goodnight, put in my ear-plugs, curled up in my couchette, and slept like a baby till the train pulled into Oslo early the next morning.

NEXT WEEK!
June 24
Norway
OSLO
Munch Museum
Frognor Gardens and
Vigeland Sculptures
The Kontiki
Fjord-climbing
Garden Party
Surprise Wedding

GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE June 24 NORWAY
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Friday, April 12, 2013

GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE: June 21 Sweden's Lappland (770 miles)


Monday June 21, 1976: 

 I dreamt that I needed to phone to check which of Stockholm's two domestic airports we needed that day. And it was just as well I did, or we would have chosen the wrong airport and missed our flight to Kiruna.

A few hours later, our SAS flight north left Stockholm via Arlanda Airport and we ate lunch at 25,000 feet. Kiruna is located within the Arctic Circle, about 770 miles (1240 km) north of Stockholm.
map photo by kind courtesy of steelguru.com
photo by kind courtesy of www.docstoc.com 
We arrived at our windy northern destination to discover that Kiruna airport had only one taxi available in which to chauffeur visitors into town and to their hotels. So Donna and I joined Bo and Hans whom we had met on the flight.

It was a short, but friendly, ride to town, squished together in that taxi. So much so that, by the time we reached Hotel Ferrum, both men had invited us for supper that evening.  


HOTEL FERRUM, KIRUNA, SVERIGE
Our pre-booked room was spacious and airy and had a magnificent view of the mountain and mine. Donna and I changed into jeans and then enjoyed an escorted trip to the town's Iron Ore Mine - the largest deposit of Iron Ore on the planet world.
photo by kind courtesy of www.kirunashotell.se -
The excavation of Kiruna's iron ore is a gigantic engineering feat that, sadly, involves the gradual levelling of the the town's mountain.  Our tour took us underground, where we wore hard hats and saw a drill, the size of a house, in operation. It was very impressive but also extremely noisy!
photo by kind courtesy of barentsobserver.com

Nature does not quietly 
surrender her mineral bounty

After taking photos of people beside the 8ft. diameter wheels on those huge mining machines, I walked around Kiruna, and breathed in the crisp, cool, clear air that was blowing in from the west. Then, I returned to the Ferrum for a bastu - which is what the Swedes call a sauna.
photo by kind courtesy of www.tumblr.com
The hotel's unisex bastu was deserted. Located on the top floor, it was the first one I had ever seen that had a window in it - with a view of the mountain.

The solstice sun's long flirtation with the horizon, on this longest day of the northern year, made it very easy to lose track of time.

I had travelled a thousand miles already, learning new customs, language basics and currencies along the way. While I welcomed the challenge, there was still far to go, and we had not scheduled much time for relaxation. So I happily surrendered to the restorative dry heat of that deliciously silent bastu. After all the hustle and bustle, being there alone was exactly what my soul had needed.

After returning to my room, I had a quick shower and remained in my towel, allowing my body to cool down naturally whilst folding my now dry lingerie.

So, when Hans opened the door without knocking, and then let himself in, I shrieked in surprise.

The poor man looked as shocked to see me as I was to see him. He immediately turned his back and explained that he just wanted me to have what was in his hand. Keeping my composure, I put on my hotel robe, then bid Hans turn around and show me what it was he had in his hand!
photo by kind courtesy of http://fleursflorist.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/Rose_and_Freesia_Handtied-300x200.jpg
He had brought Donna and me a fragrant vase of pink miniature roses with some fragrant freesia.  What a sweet welcome to Lappland!

I was sincerely moved by his flower gift, and thanked him, assuring him that we were both looking forward to having supper with him.

Hans then left, but returned a few minutes later to inform us that Bo had to work and was thus unable to accompany us to dinner that night. By way of an apology for breaking the date, he had sent a bottle of wine, which Hans quickly opened.

He poured 3 glasses, then we all toasted to Bo's health and our upcoming evening with Hans before ushering him out of our room so that we could get finish getting ready for dinner!

Donna and I also needed time to recover from the distinct pleasure of receiving both flowers AND wine from two complete strangers!  We simply had not expected to be treated like royalty in Kiruna. Who knew that Swedes were so romantic?!  Maybe it's their hot Viking blood?!

Our vase of pink roses had alerted me that Donna's 
and my stay in Kiruna was sure to be a lot more 
meaningful than either of us could have anticipated.

The dining room at the Ferrum Hotel looked like an IKEA store on steroids. It could have comfortably seated several dozen people. And the magnificent floor to ceiling windows faced the town's raison d'être, its mountain and mine.

The furniture was ultra-stylish, reasonably comfortable and very Swedish. There was even a small dance floor with a surprisingly accomplished dance band playing that night.  

Hans welcomed Donna and me, pulling both of our chairs out for us.  This simple act of courtesy instantly alerted every male there to the fact that at least one of us was potentially available!
photo by kind courtesy of http://whynotbook.com/hotels/view/Scandic-Ferrum-Hotel-Kiruna-Sweden-56388
We ordered our meal, and sipped the wine that Hans provided for the table. His manners were impeccable, as one would expect from a Swede.

But around us, things were rapidly becoming quite bizarre! A couple of dozen men had quietly occupied the tables around us.  And, when they thought we were not looking, were quite openly leering at Donna and me.

It was obvious that the news of our arrival 
had reached the ears of every man in town 
since all the iron-men were seated all around us.

I'd half-finished my glass of wine, when a smiling stranger approached our table and politely asked Hans if he might dance with me!  Hans wisely deferred to my judgement.  And seeing no harm in dancing,  I smiled and rose to my feet.  

We chatted as the stranger guided me across the floor.  He spoke perfect English and, of course, wanted to know why we two ladies were in Kiruna. I explained that I was a university student in Canada and so had wanted to see, with my own eyes, the planet's largest operational iron ore mine.

At the end of our dance, my partner thanked me and returned me to my table and Hans. Donna had also accepted a dance, so poor Hans had been sitting there patiently watching us while awaiting our food orders. He seemed genuinely content with his role as our chaperone.

Hans further explained that for us to refuse to dance, would be considered bad-mannered as all the men were there only because we two young single women were dining there that night!
He spoke the truth! No sooner had Donna and I taken our seats and a quick sip of wine than we received more dance requests. Subsequent invitations followed, as quickly as we were deemed sufficiently refreshed to dance.

Thankfully most of my partners spoke English. Being able to converse with them took my mind off the pain of having my toes - and shoes - so cruelly crushed!

Without realizing it, Donna and I had injected ourselves into 'testosterone-ville'!!  Like most mining towns in the 1970s, Kiruna was comprised primarily of young, strong, healthy males, many of whom regularly spent months at a time separated from their wives and/or families.

We scarcely had time to eat, much less digest our meals. Each man took turns at respectfully approaching our table to ask one or other of us to dance. Some men were flirtatious, others painfully shy and some just hungry for the scent of a woman.  Yet all of our partners behaved like perfect gentlemen. Unfortunately, most of them danced like engineers with two left feet!

 That night of dancing brought me face to face - quite literally - with the intense loneliness that is often experienced by those who work in geographically isolated locations. Most of these men staunchly deny the depths of their loneliness, which is another noble act of sacrifice for their family. Thus their pain and selflessness often goes unnoticed and under-appreciated.
I saw varying degrees of loneliness in the eyes of my dance partners that night. And I gasped to suddenly realize the toll it takes on a person's psyche to spend a lifetime away from their loved ones - especially when it is for the sake of providing for those very same loved ones. 
What a cruel, lonely fate! 
We need to honour those men and women 
who quietly labour, in emotionally barren conditions, to provide for loved ones

Somewhere between our entree and dessert, as I was pondering the psychological effects of loneliness on the human body, Kurt asked me to dance. I dutifully followed him to the floor, expecting the worst, but was delighted to discover he really could dance the foxtrot!

Both my parents had been keen ballroom dancers, so I had grown up dancing on my Daddy's feet.  Dancing with Kurt reminded me of the way it had felt to dance with my now deceased Father. And I enjoyed it so much that, custom or not, I refused to dance with any other partner for the remainder of that night.

Hans was very good natured about Donna's and my popularity with the other males, thanking us for sharing dinner was him then bidding us both a genteel goodnight when it was over.

Kurt then invited both Donna and me outside to witness the midnight sun for ourselves.  After an evening of dancing, we wisely decided against climbing the mountain in our dresses and heels. Instead, we traded a slightly improved solar view, for the opportunity to chat quietly with this knowledgeable man, whilst slowly walking around this now deserted town. Everyone, except us, seemed to be asleep!

My mind rebelled against the sky's being so bright at 11.30 at night. Though the sun was dipping downwards to almost touch the horizon, tonight there would be no sunset at all.
photo by kind courtesy of tripwow.tripadvisor.com
 Midnattssolen lyste mjukt färgning molnen rosa, Välkomna Sommaren!

The 24-hour bright sky, following days of non-stop activity, played havoc with all of my senses. How does one get their bearings, when the sun never sets?

Even though I'd helped to consume a few of bottles of wine with and after dinner, I was not in the least bit drunk or sleepy. All that dancing must have exercised the alcohol right out of my system!  Donna, on the other hand, was quite weary and so returned to our room.

I chose to spend the rest of that awesome night with Kurt.

In public, being with Kurt had felt more like a one-on-one tutorial than romance! As a Geological Engineer, he was eager to explain all the intracacies of iron ore mining in Kiruna. And since I was already a 3rd year geology student, ours was an intellectual match made in tectonic heaven!

But Kurt was also a fit, handsome, and very sexy, divorced, 34-year old Viking man. And I was a fit, divorced, emancipated 27-year old Canadian woman.  We knew we had only a few hours to share before I would forever leave Kiruna. So, we did not waste time in being shy!

 Though short and sweet, our time together was so compelling that, upon my return to Canada, Kurt and I remained friends and communicated, via snail mail, for many years.

I had spent less than 48 hours in Sweden,but was 
already in love with this country and her people!
Tack för den varmt välkomnande, Kiruna, 
och för de underbara minnen
by kind courtesy of jenlemen.com 
My crazy adventures in Sweden had only just begun. 
for the very best was yet to be!


NEXT WEEK!
June 22-23 
Sweden
LULEA, Lappland
Norbotten Museum
Coastal Lappland

 STOCKHOLM
Harbour Cruise
The Vasa Warship
Waldemarssude in Djurgarden
Painter Prince Museum

 GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE - June 22-23 SWEDEN North to South to NORWAY 

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