We ran out of anything to do early
the next day, and showed up at our B&B a little early. The lady
had sang in the Stockholm opera for many years. She was lonely, and
happy to have somebody to talk to. She said she married an opera
singer, and when her reviews started getting better that her
husband's, he divorced her. She insisted that we come down for a
glass of wine before bed. We don't really care for it, but went, just
to be sociable. She had very fancy glasses, and a decorative
decanter, along with all sorts of other goodies she had fixed. She
just kept refilling our glasses.
She suggested breakfast at nine,
but we had a big day tomorrow, and Barbara just has a coffee fit well
before nine. No addiction, though. Barbara begged her down to 8:30.
But I think she realized the problem, though, because she brought up
a thermos of coffee later. The next morning, we watched all
her birds outside just flock to the oleo sprinkled with oats she
pampered them with while eating a great breakfast ourselves.
We said goodbye, and headed for
the tourist office in Saffle. They lined us out good on the really
big festival spread out over a dozen locations on a very large
peninsula. Selling farm good, crafts, whatever they had. The area was
called the Varmlands. We worked our way down the peninsula, then back
up, hitting most of them. The parking and traffic was a problem. At
one site, young men were getting to shoot an actual shotgun at
targets. They acted like they had never actually seen a real gun
before. That seems to be the case with most all countries we have
been in. Most people in the world seem to have the impression that
all Americans carry guns, like the wild west days. I have overheard
many conversations to that effect, all over the world.
Barbara was in her element, with
these great crowds of people. Once, we were waiting in a very long
line for the toilet. They all stood in absolute silence, not a word
spoken. Barbara, of course, spoke. “You Swedish people sure are a
quiet bunch!” An old man, way up the line, added, “Yes, we have
always been a very stoic people.” That broke the ice, and the words
came flooding out, along with much laughter. By the time our toilet
turn had arrived, every one of them personally knew us, and all about
our travels. A common question: “Do you have kin here? All other
Americans go to Southern Europe.” Did we look blonde to them? Well,
I could have been. A long time ago.
By the time we got back off our
tour, we were thinking about finding a place to lay our heads. The
people at the Tourist office had been so helpful, we went back. They
booked a Hostel on down the road. The directions sounded easy, but
then nothing ever is. It was another Hostel, Barbara wasn't very
happy about it, but our budget was. We thought we again had it to
ourselves, but we walked right into a couple of guys when we walked
down to the TV room. Barbara screamed. I did not. I'm more stoic.
Barbara just does not like it, when someone we didn't invite walks
into our Hostel.
We saw the attraction that place
offered before we left. It had a rushing river, and a series of locks
and dams lifted and lowered boats from one large lake to another. At
one point, there was a “Only one in the world” thing. Starting
with the river on the bottom, a boat canal directly above, A foot
bridge directly above that, then an automobile bridge directly above
that. Four modes of travel occupying the same geographical space.
Five, if a plane flew over. Pretty cool.
We drove to Gotsberg. A major
city. Actually, there are two little dashes above the “o” in the
name to show how it is pronounced, a characteristic of most of their
long words. But my computer, to my knowledge, can't do that. We
figured since it was Sunday, the traffic would be light. It was true
of most cities in the world we have seen, but not here. And in Los
Angeles. We wandered aimlessly among the hoards of humanity awhile,
before an avenue of escape presented itself, and we took it. The
highlight of the day occurred when Barbara spotted a Bull Moose, in
all its glory, just outside the city by the interstate. We had been
seeing Moose signs along the road, and watched for one so long, we
had given up. Actually, the tell-tale signs of wildlife, usually road
kill, was very light the whole time.
When we found a hotel, a ways down
the line, it was too high. But, they said they had an older version
across town, but we had to fix our own bedding. We took it. No
breakfast, but $100. Isn't that just the way things are? We were
beginning to look at that price as “A cheap bargain.”
We got a Kebab tonight, along with
a Pizza. Their way of doing things was very different, and Barbara,
in trying to figure out how to handle it all, got every single person
in the cafe to helping her. Remembering Hillary Clinton's book, I
told them, “It takes a village to keep her straightened out.”
Many knew what I was referring to, and laughed. Most countries, all
over the world, know about and love everything American. And, they
loved us. Its just America in general they have a problem with.
Kebabs were beginning to not be so good. Getting a bit old, because they're the
cheapest. So just quite naturally, we have seen a lot of them. But
the pizza was good.
The next day we just sorta took it
easy. It drizzled all day. We went to a Bibliotek (Library) and
Barbara got a free hour on a computer. She found we were still pretty
close to budget, better than we had feared. That pepped us up. So
Barb just had to go to a mall, spend some money. A worker at one
store was looking at us and laughing, while we were still a long way
off. Were my pants unzipped or something? But no. He was one of the
crowd last night, helping Barbara order Pizza. “Was the Pizza good?"
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