Maglehammering

So our efforts to write consistently have tumbled, but less than a week before our return, there are many things to recount.

Our time in rural Sweden, where we were until the last Sunday in June, can best be characterized as improbable, hilarious and shockingly rural. Shocking, not because we were so far from urban life that our hearts stopped; rather, we became strangely implicated into a very different, but important, sort of community. Let's explain.

We stayed in a town called Maglehem, population about 60 (exponentially greater in sheep and cattle). Despite the months of hype we collaboratively generated in our minds about "the farm," we performed very little farm work. On the local road all there can be seen are rows and rows of crops -- there are probably about a dozen farms within walking distance, but we weren't at one. In fact, besides planting three herb patches and wearing work gloves our WWOOF activities were more concerned with local manicuring and chore time than agriculture. Our host Magnus is a gourmet chef, B&B co-owner, father, guitarist, accountant, and graphic designer -- so mostly our job was to keep up with him.

Our first couple of days were expectedly routinized, and (though physically intense) rather satisfying. We painted about 35 pieces of wooden furniture, weeded a giant overgrown slab of earth,and moved some sharp giant hedges from place to place. To counter the bruised fingers and sunburns, we were served four meals a day, provided with creaky little bicycles and given access to stunningly calm and silent local beaches. At first, there was some talk about a music festival, and since we weren't at all sure what a multi-genre festival in the country could mean, we just kind of went with it.

After assembling a sad little circus tent to cover the main stage and preparing about a hundred onions (among other, friendlier vegetables), it was announced that we, along with two other hilarious volunteers and amazing humans from NY, were the responsible food vendors of the event. For the next three days our food tent, which was adjacent to the main stage, was inundated with hungry swedes from breakfast till midnight. We manned as many sausages, beers, veggie stews and coffee cups as possible. There was a lot of "english, please" and "potato salad with that?" but for the most part people seemed more focused on eating than on the foreigners feeding them and were, consequently, quite friendly. (Exceptions include a couple of famously awful town drunks and some fellow obsessed with Alabama who had, well, a lot to say.)

After the event we were given two days of relaxation, which involved a very long bicycle tour of the countryside, a post-solstice trip to Ale's Stones (considered Sweden's equivalent to Stonehenge), and a walk through Malmo. The week that followed, while heavily detailed and often hilarious, was devoted to improving the site of the B&B, which is in a bit of disrepair. To sum up, imagine us wielding chainsaws, wheelbarrows, hoes and rakes all at once. Yes.

While we'll think of Magnus, his space and his 100% sausage-fed- super-volatile-wooden axe-throwing-4-year-old son, what we'll miss most about Maglehem is its rolling green loveliness.

Copenhagen Revisited

Suddenly, over a week ago...



Our time on the farm (more on that later) has been surprising, relaxing, and exhausting all at the same time. However, let us not forget that prior to our rural adventures, our trip South of Stockholm began with a trip to Denmark, and a visit with a much-missed friend.



Sarah Jean is by far the most gracious American ex-pat living in Copenhagen for six months. We only had two days with you, SJ, but they were nothing short of magical. From claymation trips to the moon to drinks at the meat packing plant, you are the (honorary) Danish hostess with the mostess.

Plastic Adventures in Stockholm

UPDATES!

Sorry for the lack of posts... we've been traveling about and our internet has been spotty whilst our activities have been many... here are some backlogged treats...

Big Gray

**Meant to be published 6/11/10...

"After one day of splendid blue clarity (inspiring long bike rides and Swedish grass naps), Stockholm's skies have reverted back to their normal but nevertheless enjoyable gray. Let's begin with what's splendid.


1) Swedish city planning.
Though there are plenty of possible winding-through options, the streets of Stockholm are both lovely and navigable. In fact, we've opted out of public transit as a whole in favor of outdoor, plein-air meandering, and have still only opened a map twice.
2) Ed Ruscha
A favorite, it was a real treat to see a showcase of this much adored painter at the Moderna Museet.
3) Plastic
Who would have known that Swedes were some of the foremost innovators of polyethylene and thermosensitive plastics? Today we watched a film interview with a man who collects plastic objects (he has over 4000) - mostly household goods, and most of which have hardly changed in design since the 1950's, but he considers them to be very beautiful treasures.
4) Spring babies
There are innumerable young, healthy mothers out pushing strollers along the waterways of Stockholm. Some of the baby carriages are the most inventive I've seen. And the babies look like the baby-est of babies; ever so formless and wide-eyed.
5) Swedish earnestness
People here are interested in one another. They glance at eachother on the street without staring; they talk to one another; they aren't presumptuous or aloof. Nearly everyone has approached us initially speaking Swedish, mistaking us for their friends.

Other Stockholm treats: party buses, wharf-side photography museums, Swedish/Indian vegan meatballs, and mysterious bathtubs.


It's good to be Swedish.

In a few hours we will be venturing Southbound by train... while we may be sad to leave Stockholm behind, we take comfort in an imminent reunion with our dear friend Sarah Jean. Maybe Copenhagen nights will be dark enough to allow my glow in the dark t-shirt to actually glow in the dark."

Syllogisms

Things that are far away feel faraway.
Stockholm is far away.
...does not at all feel so.

An animal and a familiarity mix in a cloud.
A dog and Stockholm mix.
We may, after all, be in a cloud.


After a very long 26 hours of travel, we arrived in Stockholm yesterday (Monday) morning. While our adventures in a partially deserted SFO, a 757 that looked a hundred years old, and a lucky exit row seat next to a seeerrrious Zionist could warrant an entire post, we'll spare those memories for moments of "oh yeah, that happened." Arlanda airport looks like a treehouse built in an Ikea. Everything fits together really nicely and every surface seems to be age-and-scratch resistant (this has become apparent throughout the city as well). On our little bus ride into town we were instantly struck by the stretching flora that is Sweden. In turn, I instantly thought of elves and tricky forestfolk waiting to do tricks on us in the trees. And built into a high gray cliff we spied (in our delirium) a large, flat, silver door. Tricks indeed.

We were greeted by our host Agnes who quickly took us around the area and dropped us at the apartment before zooming away. The place is in northern Stockholm, in an old building (though nothing feels old here at all) that reminds me of the building in Little Otik. The apartment is super neat, it features small cacti, a selection of DVDs, a liquor cabinet, many white things and a view of a leafy courtyard.


Yesterday we spent about six hours wandering. We scaled Stockholm diagonally, crossing its most variant corners, though we have hardly found a spot yet that feels uncomfortable, dangerous or unlivable. There has been a consistent mild wind that often swoops up hundreds of tiny gold leaves and snows or whirlwinds them through the air. People here look like they're smiling even when they aren't (no wonder l'image de bonheur of Sans Soleil is based not far from here). Seriously, though, we've been greeted with openness and friendly lovelies almost everywhere we turn. People seem excited about having visitors from California - and in short, we don't get the impression that a huge load of tourists come through here.


Stockholm is a city that covers several islands and is connected by a series of bridges and ferries. Some of these islands are heartbreakingly perfectly preserved nature parks with a spattering of old houses that look intensely Bergmanesque. Today, we spared our feet the distance and rented some hefty Dutch bicycles, which go fast over curbs and gravel alike. While we'd slept the morning away, the day was hardly lost; we bended around the Djurgarden (one of the island parklets) surrounded by freesia bushes, canals, cattle, small wooden docks and families of swans.


Cycling holds true as my preferred way of getting around; our bikes allowed us to have dinner in the southern district of the city (a long walk) where our waiter pumped us for information about Burning Man. While we were hardly of help, he remained convinced that it was the ideal event for meditation. After eating we enjoyed a minimalist jazz performance in a funny little bar whose geometry made it acoustically and visually overly complicated.


Though it was eleven pm on our way back, the sky and water were both cobalt. Birds don't ever give up at night because light is always there. (The one outside our window is singly going at it right now; he almost sounds tropical.)

As for pups, there have been plenty; this is just the beginning...

Lapphund