"One man, one
woman.Two friends
and two true
lovers. Somehow
we'll help each other
through the hard times."
— Benny Andersson
& Björn Ulvaeus, 1977
One year and one month before making the leap from the U.S. to Bulgaria during the Summer of 2008, I made a similar leap from West Hyattsville to Takoma Park — two Maryland suburbs located a mere borderline apart. I know what you're thinking — the two don't compare, right? Well, in some ways they do. You see, the foolish reservations over moving out of a space I'd occupied for over 10 years made for extreme complications. I'd become dangerously set in my ways of living in a familiar environment. And the convenience of the Greenline Metro, located a block from my pad, justified my actions. This would all change after some key events. First, my older brother Thad scouted out the perfect studio apartment in Takoma Park, then, after perusing through the shopping isles of IKEA, the world's largest furniture retail company, I began to imagine various ways of decorating my new place at a reasonable cost — and in no time at all, my reserved mind was free from its chains and I was more than ready to make that leap.
Fast forward to early August of 2011, and the world's greatest furniture store is making a leap to Sofia — where eager Bulgarians have been anxiously awaiting the first store ever to open up its doors in the sunflower capital of the world. But unlike the millions of fervent Bulgarian furniture buyers, me and Sarah couldn't spare the extra time to join in their enthusiasm. We were already overly enthused about our big vacation to Sweden, the second of two birthday gifts generously bestowed by my girl from the north country — and, coincidently, the home of Ingvar Kamprad, the sole innovator responsible for pleasantly polluting the world with the great IKEA.
Speaking of sole innovators, Kamprad is just one of many more hailing from the land known for the world's best meatballs. So, stay tuned if you will, as I clue you in on five more innovators that made a huge impact on my life, while sharing many memorable highlights from my days in Stockholm, Norrköping, Gotland, Visby, Fårö, Malmö, and Ystad — that included a game of hide and seek, a visit to the biggest-oldest ship in the world, a surrealistic ride through a movie set and some hard times and broken promises in between — during my long awaited Swedish Sojourn . . .
One drizzly afternoon, during one of the most unforgettable sixth days of August, one man and one woman — that's me and Sarah — arrived in The Kingdom Of Sweden, a Nordic country on the Scandinavian Peninsula bordered by Norway and Finland and the third largest country in the European Union. Uncomfortably perched in the same position throughout a three-hour long flight from Sofia must have worsened my old knee, an unfortunate injury I suspiciously acquired the night before during my birthday-dance-party celebration. Though no longer swollen to the size of a cantaloupe, it was indubitably stiff as a board. So much so, that I could barely bend it to the walk off the plane. But after my converse sneakers planted themselves firmly to the soil of a long awaited dream destination-come-true, in my mind — the harassing drizzle magically morphed into sun rays and my stiff knee became as flexible as a rubber band. In other words, I was happier than a brat at Chuck E. Cheese's."I've been so lucky,
I am the girl with golden hair.
I wanna sing it out to everybody.
What a joy, what a life, what a chance!"
— Benny Andersson
& Björn Ulvaeus, 1977
The first stop on our Swedish Sojourn was Stockholm, the capital and largest city of Sweden. Sometimes referred to as the Venice of the North, it is best known for its beauty and abundance of exquisite architecture, clean and open water, parks and streets filled with health conscious, humble and cordial citizens.
Speaking of beauty, after his first visit to Stockholm, legendary talk show host Dick Cavett said it perfectly when he bluntly declared, "there's an unfair amount of beautiful women in Sweden." So, to my girl-watchers out there, if you're looking to feast your eyes on what could possibly be some of the world's most beautiful women, then Sweden just might be your home. This was a not-so surprising feat that equaled Bulgaria, a country culpably plagued with countless raven-haired Megan-Fox-types. But unlike Bulgaria, the typical physical characteristics in Sweden veered toward the lighter side — as natural blond hair colors, due to a lack of sunlight, occur more frequently in northern European populations. And I do mean frequent — I'd never seen so many natural blonds in one place in all of my life.
Our first accommodation on our Sojourn was the Archipelago Hostel in Gamla Stan, located in The Old Town Of Stockholm. Though expensive, with prices in the five-star range, the cleanliness and professionalism made up for the high costs. And to break the price a bit, we had to break an old promise. After a nightmarish stay in Ireland, which resulted in a sleepless night due to blatant sex and loud snoring, we made a promise to avoid dorm-rooms when traveling. But thankfully, our dormitory stay in Stockholm never came close to our Irish experience. There was a quiet teenager and an elderly woman, who snored loudly — but both parties got in around 5am, close to the time of our morning exploration.
"Money, money, money.
Always sunny in
a rich man's world."
— Benny Andersson
& Björn Ulvaeus, 1976
While on the subject of high costs and promises, after hearing that Sweden would be far more expensive than England — where one could easily spend up to $18 for a Burger King meal deal — a week before our trip, we vowed a no dining out promise and Sarah made a needed return to her backpacking roots and came up with the idea to stock up on granola bars, instant cereal, juice packs and my favorite — trail mix for the Sojourn. She also suggested scouting out local grocery stores in Sweden for non-perishable items, like pasta to cook in the hostels.
"It'll be like hard times in Sweden." Sarah delared. "We'll be living on nothing but trail-mix for lunch and perhaps spaghetti for dinner — but the money we save will be well worth it, right?"
"Of course! Besides, I absolutely love spaghetti — it's one of my favorites. I can eat it everyday and not get sick of it." I stated firmly.
Sarah smirked.
On our first full day in Stockholm, it rained like cats and dogs — non stop. This disappointing weather pattern set the tone for our entire Swedish Sojourn. Somedays wet as the Pacific, other days dry as the Sahara. But whichever way it swung, we were prepared for it. Mainly because we came equipped with our trusty REI rain-jackets and our usual rainy-day plan B, which is to focus on indoor activities such as ferry rides, shopping outlets and museums.
So, when the rain was unbearable, we made a dash for places like the Stockholm City Hall, a major tourist attraction standing high and mighty on the eastern tip of Kungsholmen island, a spectacular view and thrilling ride on the Skyview, a 330 foot lift inside a spheric cabin, Sweden's own H&M, a tour of two museums, the newly opened Photographic Museum which featured a paired exhibition of American photographer Robert Mapplethorpe and Northern Women In Chanel, and last and certainly lustfully, the Lust & Last exhibition at the National Museum of Fine Arts, which also featured the works of two of Sweden’s foremost historical painters of the 19th century — the great Anders Zorn and Carl Gustaf Hellqvist.
Though the aforementioned rainy day activities were memorable, the best by far was a view of the biggest-oldest ship in the world at The Vasa Museum, which displays a 226 foot Swedish war vessel from 1628 — one of Sweden's most popular tourist attractions and symbol of its "great power period." It's difficult to describe in words the wondrousness of the Vasa. I can only convey that it's one of those iconic destinations one must see to believe, right along with the Grand Canyon, Neuschwanstein, The Eiffel Tower or The Great Pyramid.
After our indoor fun, during the evening hours, we made our first promise to dine out just one time only during our Sojourn. Hey, it's not everyday you get the chance to go to Sweden, so we had try the cuisine at least once. Besides, all my life I'd long to taste a real Swedish meatball cooked in Sweden, so this was my big chance! Would it live up to the hype? Or fail to deliver like real Italian pizza did for me in Italy? Well, there was only one way to find out. So, we grabbed our best threads and hit the Old Town in search of a fancy place to dine. And in a matter of minutes we located a restaurant near our hostel called Martne Trotzig. Once inside, I wasted no time ordering a helping of Swedish meatballs. And after one taste, it certainly lived up to the hype. They were so good I felt like slapping somebody's mama right there!
Towards the end of our dinner, our celebration was cut short after Sarah scornfully reminded me, "They'll be no more dining out after this. Remember, we must keep our no dining out promise. So, from here on out — its trail-mix and hostel-cooked pasta."
At that moment, still joyfully gobbling down the last of the Swedish meatballs on my plate, I found it hard to agree. So with a half-smile, I nodded and wistfully uttered, "Hey, no problem. Like I said, 'I love trail-mix and spaghetti.'"
Sarah smirked.
The next morning Stockholm was sunny and dry. So after a quick switch from our crowded dorm-room into a single room of our own, one man and one woman, that's me and Sarah, began our first exploration of the city — outdoors. Some memorable highlights of our exploration include the extravagant Hötorget buildings and the striking, yet controversial, Kulturhuset, a symbol for Stockholm that critics find oversized, malplaced and aesthetically unpleasing, Sveavägen, a major street in Stockholm, famous for being the street where Swedish Prime Minister Olof Palme was assassinated, The Stockholm Palace, the official residence and major royal palace of the Swedish monarch, Sweden's parliament better known as The Riksdag, and my favorite — the Stortorget, the oldest square in Stockholm located in the Old Town.
"Who can live without it,
I ask in all honesty?
What would life be?
Without a song or a
dance what are we?
So, I say thank
you for the music,
for giving it to me."
— Benny Andersson
& Björn Ulvaeus, 1977
Speaking of major, like my pilgrimage to the Beatles in Liverpool or Phil Lynott in Dublin, one might snort or giggle after learning that the major most reason Sweden topped my list of long awaited destinations was to complete a pilgrimage to Anni-Frid "Frida" Lyngstad, Björn Ulvaeus, Benny Andersson and Agnetha Fältskog — collectively and better known as ABBA.
Formed in Stockholm in 1972, two men and two women went on to become one of the most commercially successful acts in the history of pop music. Together, they topped the music charts from '72 to '82, selling over 375 million records worldwide, making them the fourth best-selling popular music artists in the history of recorded music. Oh, and don't get me wrong — selling a bunch of records and producing a silly musical don't make you number one in my book. Making real music does. And that's simply what they did, by crafting some of the best pop songs ever.
Because of the enormous success of these well crafted pop songs, 20 or so years after the group's initial break up in '83, fans can now relive the whole ABBA experience through The ABBA City Walk, a guided tour of the essential ABBA related sites in Stockholm. But holding true to our no dining out promise, which, obviously, also includes high priced tours, we decided to pay $5 for our own guide and complete the tour ourselves. And with Sarah's expertise guiding skills, we managed to find about 13 of the 15 sites mentioned inside the guide. We also purchase the Stockholm Card, an expensive commodity, but highly recommended, as it grants unlimited transportation and museum entrees throughout Stockholm.
The first and most important ABBA related site we decided to hunt was the ABBA Park Bench photo from the groups 1976 Greatest Hits album. It features both couples sitting on a bench with one couple looking miserable and the other happy and kissing. This seemingly nonsensical site will certainly leave most of you shrugging your shoulders and asking — why, Owen, why!?!
Let me explain.
The importance of this photograph dates back to my early childhood days in 1977. During the height of ABBA's popularity, their infectious hits, such as, "S.O.S.", "The Name Of The Game", "Know Me, Knowing You", my all time favorite — "Dancing Queen", and many others, were in constant rotation on a variety radio stations throughout D.C. — from Pop and R&B to Rock and Easy Listening. In those days there wasn't an MTV or YouTube channel to easily find out what the singer of your favorite song looked like — one had to rely on saturday morning music programs like Soul Train or American Bandstand to find out. And it wasn't a guarantee that your favorite bands or singers would be featured on these shows — especially if the singers were from a far away place like Sweden.
And although ABBA did eventually appear on the latter program in '76, my first encounter of the band's appearance came just months prior to their American television debut after rummaging through my sister's record collection. At age 6, and keeping in mind that most of the band's songs we're rhythmic and soulful, which was a common attribute for African American music artist during the late 70s, I'd just assumed ABBA was a Black band.
In fact, I was pretty certain that "Dancing Queen" was sung by The Three Degrees, an all Black female trio liken to The Supremes, known for the number one hit "When Will I see You Again." So, you can say it was quite an eye-opener to see an album sleeve filled with four white Swedes siting on a park bench. A few months later, I was furthermore confused when I heard them speak. During an an interview with Dick Clark on Bandstand, the sound of their thick Swedish accents made me suspect that, "not only we're they white, but they were also from another planet!"
To cut a long story short, as I got older and deeper into ABBA's music and roots, I realized the special importance of that first cutesy encounter of the band. So, in getting back to the first ABBA related hunt, you can perhaps sympathize with my feelings of desperation to find this bench.
And desperate was the case. The only scent we had to go on, besides the original photograph in hand featuring the band on a dark green bench with a crooked tree in the background, was a street sign and nearby cafe called Ulla Winbladh. When we arrived at the park near Tivoli Grona Lund, a child could see that this was going be the most difficult ABBA site to find on our mission, and, possibly, the most difficult landmark we've ever hunted — but you couldn't tell me that. From the start of the search, I was as confident as Barney Fife on a Mayberry murder mystery.
"Owen, how will we know it's the right one? It's a huge park and they'll be hundreds of green benches everywhere!" Sarah reasoned.
"Trust me — I'll know it when I see it. Won't take long at all."
"You think so?" Sarah sarcastically replied.
"I know so. This album cover has been with me since my childhood. I know it like the back of my hand." I insisted.
"But Owen, the photograph was taken almost 35 years ago! I'm sure the scenery around it has changed."
"It don't matter, I know the bench. I know the crooked tree. I got this!"
Two hours later, and a couple of heated arguments in between, one with Sarah, and another with an annoying tourist who'd never heard of ABBA, we were still in that park searching for the bench. As mush as I hate to say it — Sarah was right. The scenery had changed drastically. Every bench had been newly designed and there wasn't a crooked tree in sight.
Tired and exhausted, we were just about ready to call it a night when Sarah, The World's Greatest Navigator, spotted that familiar Ulla Winbladh street sign and cafe, which led us directly to a bench that looked similar to the bench in the original photograph. It was green, but there was no crooked tree behind it. At this point, still not a 100% sure whether it was the real bench, you can damn well believe it was going to be the ABBA bench that day! And in a dash, we politely ask the first friendly Swedish stranger passing by to snap a picture of us sitting on it for the memories.
The next morning, it was time to hunt down the second most important ABBA site on our pilgrimage — another photograph from an album sleeve. This one wasn't nearly as difficult to locate, but ended in disappointment. Released in 1975, the overlooked Elva Kvinnor I Ett Hus (Eleven Women In One House), the 5th solo album by Agnetha Fältskog, is simply a buried delight. It's my second favorite ABBA related album under the classic Arrival. The front sleeve features Agnetha relaxed on the floor of a seemingly mysterious empty room at Bastugatan 36 in Stockholm. But it's the back cover that's most striking — as it displays the uniquely chic architecture of the home's exterior.
After our slight disappointment, we made up for it by easily locating the great Polar Music Studios and Offices, one of the most famous recording studios in Scandinavia — founded by Björn and Benny, the Sheraton Hotel, where ABBA — The Movie was filmed, Hamburger Bors, where Frida and Benny got engaged, ABBA's favorite night club Wallman's Salonger, the China Teatern where ABBA — The Movie premiered with all the members in attendance, and last but certainly not least, The Royal Swedish Opera House, Sweden's national stage for opera and ballet also known as the venue where ABBA delivered the first ever live performance of "Dancing Queen," ironically in front of Queen Silvia.
"Waiting in the morning rain.
Lord give my restless soul a little patience.
Just another town, another train.
Nothing lost and nothing gained.
Guess I will spend my life in railway stations."
— Benny Andersson & Björn Ulvaeus, 1973
After a tranquil train ride through the most sublime Swedish countryside you can imagine, Sarah, who was steadfastly glued to her Kindle, and me, to my Little Silver iPod, arrived at the second destination of our Swedish Sojourn — the alluring and seemingly untravelled Norrköping, a city in the province of Östergötland in eastern Sweden.
Often called Sweden's Manchester, this former industrial city, known for its textile industry, ended up being one of the most surprising and delightful highlights of our Sojourn. You see, after settling into another remarkable little Swedish hostel, where we enjoyed a dorm room to ourselves, and broke our first no dining out promise, from lunching out at a nearby kebab restaurant that was so good it'd make you slap somebody's mama twice, we anxiously made our way to a Swedish hidden gem — the picturesque Strykjarnet (Iron), one of many other splendid industrial buildings located in Norrköping's enticing textile town, set around the Motala Strom, a river system that drains Lake Vättern, the second largest lake in Sweden.
After an early afternoon of exploring more of the town and snapping numerous photographs, as it got later, we kept our no dining out promise and stocked up on more non-parishable food items at a local grocery store and returned to our hostel. That's when my Miss Sarah Child whipped up a splendid spaghetti course for supper. After dinner, with stomachs full and feeling proud to have kept our promise, we turn in early to get a good night's rest for next leg of our Swedish Sojourn.
In the morning, a miscalculation of time resulted in a 20 minute dash, literally, to Norrköping station where we barely made our train to Kalmar, a city in Småland in the south-east of Sweden, situated by the Baltic Sea. Kalmar was added to our Sojourn because it holds a special significance to Sarah, as it, not so surprisingly, shares its name with a small town in her hometown of Calmar, Iowa — which graces a giant-sized photograph of Kalmar Castle in its main post office.
Speaking of castles, during the picturesque train ride to Kalmar, I made the quick change from Owen Davis, mild-mannered school teacher to The Brave & Fearless Castle Hunter. And along with my trusty companion, Sarah, we were good and ready for hunting. But as the train taxied into Kalmar station, we'd soon discover that we'd be facing the easiest Castle Hunt of our lives.
You see, directly out the window, a little under a quarter mile away, there she was as clear as day — Kalmar Castle. And boy was she grand! We ended up eating a good helping of crow that day, too — as we originally assumed that Kalmar Castle would be a shabby little old fortress of a thing that a few small town folks were trying to make a good on. But to our surprise, it could easily rank up there with the best we've seen. The interior was quite grand and next to the usual majestic decor, it included a tour of a women's torture chamber and the entire staff were dressed in medieval costumes, giving the overall experience authenticity.
Speaking of medieval, the next stop on our Swedish Sojourn was Visby, arguably the best-preserved medieval city in Scandinavia, located in Gotland, the largest island in Sweden and the Baltic Sea. Oddly enough, the most unlikely memorable highlight of Visby was our transportation and lodging. It included a five-hour enchanting sail across the Baltic Sea and the most unusual two-night stay at The Visby Women's Prison, a one hundred-fifty year old confinement, cleverly converted into a hostel. Not used in decades, much of its classic old-school prison characteristics remained intact, including iron barred windows, dungeons, strange corridors, an exercise yard and watch tower.
Another unlikely memorable highlight was our lucky timing. We arrived just as the Visby Annual Medieval Festival was in full swing. And like the staff at Kalmar, just about everyone was draped in the most authentic medieval costumes you could imagine. And Visby's alluring medieval architecture, old church ruins, and notable historical remains, such as the Ringmuren, a dusty medieval defensive wall surrounding the city, reinforced the antiquated scene.
After exploring Visby, it was hard times again trying to keep good on our no dining out promise. But we somehow managed to locate another grocery store and painstakingly consumed more trail-mix for lunch and spaghetti for dinner. To relieve the pasta and peanut monotony a bit, we joyfully stumbled upon a couple of semi-cheap junk food concession stands peddling freshly-baked donuts and goo-filled Gummi straws to snack on for desert.
"You can dance, you can jive.
Having the time of your life.
Ooh, see that girl, watch that scene.
Dig in the dancing queen."
— Benny Andersson
& Björn Ulvaeus, 1976
The next stop ranks as my number one most memorable moment of the Sojourn, the remote island called Fårö, a small Baltic Sea island north of Gotland, off Sweden's southeastern coast. A popular summer resort, with a population fewer than 600 and its own dialect — claiming to be the oldest language in Sweden — Fårö comprehensively has no banks, post offices, medical services or police. Oh, and due to a lack of children, Fårö's only school was forced to close little under a year ago. This also brings to mind my ever-so-present European celebrity status in Sweden. Besides Fårö, where I'm almost certain the local residents rarely see Blacks or Americans, I received little to no star power in the other parts of Sweden, which wasn't a surprise considering that the country is made up of 1.3 million immigrates originating from the Middle East, Africa and Latin America. In other words, there a decent number of people of color in Sweden — so I didn't stand out too much.
Fårö is also a good point in the story to conclude with the second reason why Sweden topped my list of the most desired destinations — to pay another pilgrimage to a native Swede of whom director Woody Allen considers to be "probably the greatest film artist, since the invention of the motion picture camera," the late great Ingmar Bergman, the most influential film director of all time.
From 1952, roughly through 1976, one man and one projector changed the way we view cinema forever. Films like The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries epitomized the art house movie. Legendary directors such as the aforementioned Allen, Stanley Kubrick, Spike Lee, and Michael Haneke, to name a few, owe Bergman a debt they can only hope to never have to repay. But before I go into debts and payments to the illustrious Ingmar, I should inform you that getting to Fårö was a mission of its own. From Stockholm, one must take take a train, a bus, and two ferries and another bus. This intricacy is probably one of the main reasons why the reclusive Bergman loved the island so much.
"I only wanted a little love affair.
Now, I can see you are beginning to care.
But baby, believe me, it's better to forget me."
— Benny Andersson & Björn Ulvaeus, 1976
This is another good point in the story to inform my fellow cyclist of the bike riding situation in Sweden. It was wonderfully likened to Germany with regards the countless cyclists and bicycle lanes abound. At times, it was difficult to remember the lanes were there, resulting in an angry toot or beep from an oncoming biker. Speaking of Germany, let me now confess that I regretfully cheated on my Bad Boy, again.
Yep, it all went down at our lodging place in Fårö, a cozy little B&B not far from the main coast. Since there was no breakfast included, the owner of the B&B, an amusing Swedish man named Max, lent of us some green military bicycles to explore the island. The bikes, apply named Soldier Boy and Soldier Girl, were a bit weathered and worn, but the idea of taking a bike ride through the island was so appealing that we jumped at the offer.
Soldier Boy, my Swedish doxy bike, could never hold a candle to my Bad Boy, in fact no other bike in the world could — but he served his purpose well in Fårö. On the other hand, Sarah's Soldier Girl, was as slow as molasses due to a rusty crank and crooked rim. Sarah, a pretty fit girl, but unexperienced biker, assumed the slow pace was normal, so after a day of pleading, "slow down," and "I need a break," curiosity got the best of me. So, I test rode Soldier Girl and quickly detected the problem. Unfortunately we had already ridden half way across the island, so to make it back in a timely fashion, we switched bikes and after an hour or so, I quickly understood why Sarah was begging and pleading. Experienced or not, Soldier Girl was as tough as nails to peddle.
When we finally made it back to the B&B late and tired, the next morning, Max, thankfully, had plenty more green military bikes to spare. So, we replaced Soldier Girl with Soldier Girl 2, a much easier ride, and it was like smooth sailing for the rest of our days on the island. Afterwards, the stiffness and swelling of my injured knee was minimized. So, though I fully regret having to cheat on my Bad Boy for a second time, I didn't feel as guilty this time, considering that the constant peddle rotation might have sped up the healing process of my knee.
"The grass is mellow
and the sky is blue.
My paradise is waiting
here for you."
— Benny Andersson &
Björn Ulvaeus, 1975
Bergman, sometimes credited as the true father of the slasher film, after a pretty clever rehashing of the The Virgin Spring into The Last House On The Left, a premise highbrow film critics loathe, lived and died on Fårö where several of his films were made during the mid-sixies to early seventies, among them, Through a Glass Darkly, Persona, Hour of the Wolf, Shame, The Passion of Anna, and my favorite Scenes From a Marriage.
And you can bet your best pair of sunshades that after stepping foot on the island, it felt as though we stepped onto a Bergman movie set. Like a familiar scene from Persona, there was an abundance of those iconic stoned fences that actors Bibi Andersson and Liv Ullmann trotted through. There were few roads, some paved, most graveled, and a constant array of huge rain clouds overhead that seem to match picture perfectly with the endless fields of wildflowers and unique pine tree shrubbery. Believe me, the place was pure surreality!
The temperatures on Fårö were wonderful, too. Overcast days, not a drop of rain, and a warm gentle wind — but not warm enough to swim in my opinion, as we spotted a couple of locals on the beaches. Speaking of locals, like Mayberry again, everyone seemed to know one another. Doors, cars and bicycles were left unlocked and unattended. This worry-free lifestyle took some time to adjust to, but in no time, we were leaving our bikes unattended and windows opened while we slept through the night. But the front doors to the B&B stayed locked — tight. Yeah, that wasn't happening. I watch way too many horror movies to have not learned from them.
In addition to exploring some of the most iconic backdrops from Ingmar's 6 films, such as the bizarrely shaped rauks and old windmills, we paid a visit to The Bio, Fårö’s only cinema, an old burgundy barn that Bergman converted into a private theater — where we regretfully missed a rare screening of Scenes From A Marriage due to a lack of subtitles, and The Bergman Center, a museum dedicated to the 6 films he made on Fårö.
Because there was a lack of gorcery stores and restaurants in close proximity to our B&B, Sarah and I were pretty much forced this time to keep true to our no dining out promise. So, in addition to more trail-mix for lunch and spaghetti for dinner, which was getting about as boring as a DMV line, she prepared a side dish of yummy potato salad from that grocery store we found in Visby. No joke, the stuff was so good, it would make you slap the hell out of somebody's mama! Period. Forget the twice! The only unfortunate thing was that we couldn't find any more during the rest of our Sojourn.
"In this peaceful solitude.
All the outside world subdued.
Everything comes back to me
again in the gloom. Like an angel
passing through my room."
— Benny Andersson
& Björn Ulvaeus, 1981
Bergman died peacefully in his sleep at his home in Fårö on July of 2007. I remember it like yesterday, so it was quite surreal to have the opportunity pay my respects to one of my all time favorite film makers. And similar to our situation at Kalmar, Ingmar's resting place was located just a short block away from our B&B at the Fårö Church grounds. So, early the next morning, Sarah and I made our way to the cemetery and I approached Bergman's grave alone.
As I stood there staring at his plain rock-shaped tombstone, that he eloquently shares with his last wife Ingrid Bergman, not to be confused with the iconic 40s actress of the same name, I began to reminisce over the many, many late nights watching his films in my teenaged years. It's quite curious what comes to mind when you are paying your respects to someone special. Because at that moment, it became apparent just how much Ingmar influenced my life.
I guess you can say, I too owe him a debt I can only hope to never have to repay.
On our last day in Fårö, we met a Swedish dude named Stefan at the B&B. Standing a towering 6 foot 7, this fellow biker was just about as cool as they come. He gave Sarah and me some much needed 411 on Fårö, Bergman, and his country. Unfortunately, it was a real bummer to part ways so quickly, as it would have been pleasurable to hang out longer. But information and expressions of a possible Balkan tour were relayed — leaving a strong possibility of our paths crossing again in the near future.
Our journey back from Gotland just may have set the tone for many more broken promises. It all started after the cheap tickets on the sail barge were sold out, forcing us to buy expensive first-class seating, which included some laughs from The Little Fockers on the tube. Nevertheless, having an ample amount of leg room just might have boost the recovery of my injured knee — so this may have been money well spent. However, as for the broken promises in Malmö, the third most populous city in Sweden, after Stockholm and Gothenburg, there is no way I can come up with a valid excuse. So, I'm going to give it to you straight.
The first broken promise happened right upon arrival, when we splurged again on one of the most expensive accommodations in Malmö, the historical Mayfair Hotel, known for its delectable continental breakfast served in a dining room from the middle ages. But before partaking, we relaxed with a little BBC on a massive flat screen television, eating delicious Granny Smith's and eventually catching some z's on a king-size mattress likened to a cloud.
In the morning, after devouring our ancient breakfast, which was truly superb, we explored most of Malmö, including some spectacular views of the massive St Peter's Church, built in the early 14th century Gothic style, and the towering HSB Turning Torso, the tallest skyscraper in Sweden and of all the Nordic countries. It was lunch time at this point, and before I could reach into my pocket for some more trail-mix, the third broken promise occurred when I walked past MAX, a fast-food chain, similar to Burger King, founded in Sweden.
"You smell that?" I curiously asked.
"What?"
"Burgers and fries!"
"I'm a vegetarian, don't you remember? I try to avoid the scent of cooked meat."
"Okay, whatever you say. But I gotta have one! If I eat another bag of trail-mix or bowl of spaghetti I'm going to burst!"
"Okay, but only if we can stop by that tasty-looking desert place we passed by on the way here. Deal?"
"Deal!"
Sarah smirked.
And with only a day left — that pretty much put an end to our no dining out promise in Sweden.
Besides being known as the city in Sweden where we broke the most promises, Malmö will also be forever known as the place where we got catapulted back into some good old fashioned castle hunting and located the most unusual castle we'd ever come across. Malmö Castle, apply nicknamed Ghetto Castle, due to its conspicuous mixture of medieval and modern architecture and tasteless clothing stores and coffee shops within its courtyard, is historically known for being one of the most important strongholds of Denmark. The first castle was founded in 1434 by King Eric of Pomerania and demolished in early 16th century, then built again during the 1530s by King Christian III of Denmark.
"One man, one woman.
One life to live together.
One chance to take
that never comes back again.
You and me, to the end."
— Benny Andersson
& Björn Ulvaeus, 1977
After a tiny snooze on a short train ride to the 7th and final destination on our Swedish Sojourn, Ystad, a town dating back to the 11th century known for the fictional detective Kurt Wallander — my injured knee was totally absent of pain or stiffness. On the other hand, that annoying rain that greeted up at the beginning of our Sojourn came back with a vengeance. It didn't let up once during our exploration of Ystad.
To make matters worst, yet keeping in mind that Ystad had some of the cutest colorful fairytale-like homes I'd ever seen and two large medieval churches — the Church of Saint Peter and the Church of the Virgin Mary, known for its Jesus crucifix with hair rumored to be authentic — the town itself sadly paled in comparison to our previous stops, resulting in a slight dull moment at the end of our Sojourn.
Nevertheless, during our over-night train ride back to Stockholm Airport, we had the pleasure of sharing our sleeper-room with some pretty cool travelers. Like us, one man and one woman — Khaled, a native Nigerian ex-pat living in France and his French born girlfriend Carol — were on their way to explore Sweden. Knowing what they had in store, we anxiously suggested a few good spots for them to visit during their stay.
In the morning, before going our separate ways, we warned the couple of the high costs in Sweden. But they had already been informed and came well prepared with non-parishable food items and high intentions to scout out local grocery stores at each stop. It was as though they too had made a no dining out promise to themselves.
I wished them luck.
Okay, before continuing with the exciting conclusion of the story — please pause and click here to check out more photographs from our Swedish Sojourn, that tell a far better story than I can.
One week and one day after our Sojourn, Sofia also got a touch of Sweden when that long awaited IKEA store made its grand opening. So, early the next morning, one man, one woman, and one best friend — that's Me, Sarah and Joe — gassed up Xena and Sport, and made our way there to do a little shopping. When we arrived, after fighting through heavy traffic, it was apparent that the place was as packed as a shopping bag after a Macy's super sale.
Having skipped breakfast, the first section we hit up was IKEA's signature food court to scarf down more Swedish cuisine. Obviously, I ordered the Swedish meatballs with that yummy sauce on top. It was good and helped ease my craving. But not like Sweden where it was good enough to slap the hell out of somebody's mama. After brunch, the three of us shopped 'til we dropped. We picked up everything from kitchen counters to a beautiful bonsai tree — which, by the way, added a bit more status to my celebrity after a few Bulgarian strangers paused to ask me where I found it.
After we purchased our big pile, I scoped out the section near the check-out counters selling packaged food and went gung-ho on a few bags of them swedish meatballs, hoping to ease my Swedish cuisine cravings for good long while. Besides, since Sarah recently showed me how to cook spaghetti, it had been the only thing I'd been preparing for lunch lately. So, I needed a substitute fast — especially since I'd reached my pasta limit in Sweden.
Anyway, after we helped Joe deliver his goods to his apartment — back home, while I was constructing our new kitchen counter and Sarah was putting away the the groceries, she called me into the kitchen to relay some bad news.
"You ain't gonna like this."
What?"
"You're favorite Swedish meatballs. They were manufactured here in Bulgaria and contain pork."
"What!?! You're kidding?"
"Read for yourself."
After reading the fine print, I was too distressed and disappointed to comment. I just stared straight ahead, expressionless, as if I was going to cry. Then Sarah grabbed the rest of the bags from the freezer and placed them back into the shopping bag.
"Sorry, O. We'll have to give these to Joe. And I guess it's back to your favorite spaghetti."
Then she smirked.
Be seeing you.
O
