5 things I loved about the land of Vikings

Note: this started as an Instagram post but got really long and I figured I’d post it here as well…

A couple of weeks ago, I got back from a trip to Sweden and Iceland. I saw the Swedish countryside, the grand old city of Stockholm, and the weird and wonderful Land of Ice. I got rained on more than I prefer on holiday. I ate more than my share of Swedish pastry. I laughed more than I have in a while. And I loved both places for so many different reasons…

1. Friluftsliv. Swedes embrace the outdoor life better than anyone. We kayaked (in the country and in the city), backpacked, slept outdoors, foraged for wild mushrooms (and later turned them into dinner), walked for kilometers on end, ate apples from the tree, picked berries at the side of the trail, fell asleep by a lake with stora björnen over our heads…

2. Fika. Afternoon coffee and cake as an excuse to take a break and talk and laugh and share stories or gossip or recount family history… We don’t do this enough here, so busy are we at being busy.

3. Skyr. Like yogurt, only better. With muesli, or fresh berries, alongside Swedish pancakes. Followed, later, by buns (of the cinnamon variety)… this is why friluftsliv exists. And the double-digit kms.

4. Trolls. Or lava rock that could be any matter of ancient fabled thing. That mythology wends its way through the culture(s) is romantic in a medieval castles and dragons kind of way.

5. Rúsínan í pylsuendanum. Icelandic for the raisin at the end of the sausage. A rainbow, a parting of the skies after a downpour, chance meetings with kind strangers…The icing on the cake as it were: that which tops off something already good (or maybe it’s just a raisin).

 

Whatever. Just go!


Want to read about Sweden? Or Click Here for the Iceland story.

 

Writing while not travelling

I write nearly daily. Sometimes the ramblings are mere crap flung on a page, to unstop a dam and let the quality words out to play. Hopefully. [some of the less-crappy bits are HERE, if you’re curious]

Case in point: I finished this today, a mélange of exasperation, daydreaming and misfit ranting. I’m not sure I like it as much as other things I’ve penned, but the words badly wanted out and I like it enough.

The more I travel, the more I want to see and hear and learn and experience. The more I become a member of a larger sphere of experience and citizenship, the less I feel beholden or attached to this small (and shrinking) one from which I hail. This citizen of the world thing has merit: belonging is a mindset.

And if belonging is a mindset, I need to wonder whether one belongs because they strive to fit a mold. Or: if belonging is an effortless thing, where once you find that place, you won’t want to ever leave, will I find itHave I already?

And does it become a place to leave once you’re there?

As part of my inquiry, I’ve been writing (much crap flung in the process) about our capability to take things for granted, about the meaning of true friends, about being fromlessabout the insecurities of living in a really weird time.

And as I write, I read…in doing so, I stumble across inspiration for the next adventure (and the one after that); in the process, procrastinating by plotting points on a map or two (or 6) and planning the first leg of the next holiday.

Some of the best books read in the past few months (travel, fiction, fantasy that approximates our absurd reality…). Africa, Pakistan, Eastern Europe, Discworld:

2018-07-07 16.04.26Glorious Sundays such as today are meant for forest bathing. And so I go, to break in the new hiking boots, to contemplate my place amidst the trees and forest critters, to indulge my aging pup, to visit my secret cache of wild blueberries, to breathe in the mossy air in hopes of dislodging stagnant words…

I don’t know why, but this made me think of a brilliant Soul Asylum song: