I went to Sweden, thanks to my dear friend Brian, to celebrate Midsommer with some Swedes and old friends. Brian's got a cool island called Danmark's Holme outside of Stockholm, so everyone stayed in old houses from the 60's. The old inhabitants of the island left everything in their homes - pictures, posters, beds, blankets, furniture, kitchen ware, etc, so we stepped back in time. There was no electricity or running water, which meant wandering around with oil lanterns, bathing in the cold sea, and using the dreaded outhouses.
The sun never sets in Stockholm, and the nights never end. We cooked and cozied up by bonfires, sat in the hot tub then plunged into the freezing sea, ate herring, drank Swedish Schnapps, sang Midsommer songs, had a dance party until 7 a.m., collected sea glass, and took the boat out and around the Swedish isles.
Sweden was magical, and I have to go back. On my last night, Brian woke me up at 3:30 a.m. and told me that I had to come see the fog that had set over the island. It was so thick that we could barely see ten feet in front of us. We went to the bon fire, near the beach, and watched swans bobbing serenely around this enchanting little island which seemed to be enveloped by a cloud. Ash was blowing up and swirling around the glowing orange fire, and white bits rained down on our shoulders. The fog gently and slowly lifted, revealing the surrounding green hilly islands. It was one of the most mystical and beautiful moments of my many travels.
The man who made it all possible, my fellow wanderlust-er, Brian.
Sweden in the 60's.
Where we had our Midsommer's meal.
The sun rose at 3, even though it had never fully set. Oceanna called me out to see the blazing orange sky, and I couldn't grab my camera in time to catch it. I got this bit, though.
Boating at 6.
Stockholm on my last night.