Wandering Sweden

     We ran out of anything to do early one 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 an “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. And what if a satellite flew directly over that?  Pretty cool.

     We drove to Goteborg. 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 expensive. 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 now? 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 the ordering, got every single person in the cafe involved, 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. It’s 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 sort of 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, pointing 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?"