I can’t find any better word to describe the sunlight than “golden”. Everything it touched had a crisp look. Golden flakes of sun danced on the leaves, the grass, the water, the bursting flowers. Camping at night, there were stars and the sounds of insects. I rode past the native Sami people and their earthen homes.
Peace. I found a peace in the north of Sweden I hadn’t had in many, many years. Then I crossed the Arctic Circle and the mosquitoes in the forrest swarmed me. Before looking for a camping spot, I’d have to first (on the road, which they sprayed with anti-mosquito gunk) put on my long-sleeved rain gear plus gloves, long pants, and pull my hood as tightly as possible around my face so that only one eyeball, at the absolute most, was poking out. When I pushed my bike into the forest to find a place to camp for the night, the mosquitoes would swarm, thick. I’d set up my tent and get inside as quickly as possible and still then I’d have to spend the next 20 minutes crushing mosquitoes which had snuck inside. The next morning was the same drill, only in reverse.
I was only a few days from the Nordkapp. Funny, the closer I came, the farther I wished I still had to go.
I cycled passed through the very cute port city of Umeå, past the “painted farmhouses”, and visited the church village at Gammelstad. The older generations in Gammelstad were quite the clever folk. The farms were all settled largely around the 17th century and the families back then were quite conservative. Church was a major part of everyday life. The farmers would drive their horses into town on the weekend and stay in their tiny “church” house overnight so they could attend … church. There wasn’t any other way to make the trip from their farms and back.
Of course these farmers had families & teenagers. But without FB and email, how did their horny Swedish teenagers hook up? Their parents, instead of chaining them to the farms, went with the flow and drove them to town where, once a year, they were dropped off to pair up and sleep together.
Yes. That is correct. The teens boys and girls would couple off and then sleep together, alone as a couple, in their church houses.
Holy Crap! Why wasn’t I born back in those days? Today, in my College Station hometown, the Southern Baptists’ solution to sex is abstinence. Take teens on a church retreat, make them feel guilt about Jesus dieing on the cross and then make them promise never, ever to even masturbate outside of wedlock (shame on you James Dobson).
Those old Gammelstad farmers had a much better solution. They let their teens meet, sleep in a bed together (wearing some kind of clothes, of course), and let them ride out the night together. They would naturally NOT have sex, because they didn’t have any birth control and they knew that they would be incredibly ostracized in their community if they got pregnant.
So then what was the point? The Gammelstad idea was to force them to spend the night talking. If the couple didn’t have sex but had a great night chatting away and enjoying each others’ company, they could also – as a married couple – make the many long rides from the farm to the church town and back. If they didn’t have sex, but couldn’t hold a conversation, well that relationship was doomed to fail in the long run and it would be painfully obvious to the teens themselves.
After some cake and coffee, I headed out and stayed overnight in the Treehotel, a fancy treehouse only 60 km from the Arctic Circle. The coolest one is squared shaped and has 2-way mirrored glass all around. They are not only beautiful from the outside, but simple and relaxing from the inside.
Swedes. Very. Clever. People.
OXLAEY