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In 1974 I quit my engineering job in Southern California, and prepared for a walking tour of Sweden. I had a Swedish traditional costume (Leksand), my fiddle, camera, and a small cassette tape recorder. In December of 1973 I had met a couple of visiting folkdancers from Strömsnäsbruk in Småland. They said I could use their address to get mail from home. They were the only people in Sweden I was even a little acquainted with.
Armed with a few addresses of Swedes I got from friends or relatives, and with the roster of the Swedish Folkdance Association "Svenska Ungdomsringen för Bygdekultur", I set off for Sweden as soon as I heard the snow was melting in the south.
Göteborg, March 12, 1974 9:40 p.m.
My trip started off with a bang. The weather is real nice, but not perfect. (It could be clearer). Copenhagen airport is typical of all big international airports. - Not much different from LA, SF, or Seattle. / It was a good thing that I watched them unload the baggage from the plane there. My sleeping bag (cost:$100) got separated from the pack, and it wasn't labeled! I ran through the "no entry" door and got the bag back with the pack, so it came to Göteborg all right. I was disappointed that no one wanted to look at my passport.
I've been mistaken for Swedish by many people, but my mouth always gives me away. I'm just not very fluent in Swedish yet. I'm staying in the Hotel Eggers. It's a tiny room, and costs Skr 56:-! The bathroom's down the hall, although there's a sink in my room. My first experience shows me that Swedish toilet paper has no perforations!
Göteborg (what I've seen of it) is a charming city with excellent public transportation and many old buildings. As far as I can see it's free from litter. I've noticed several "Korv Bar"s. (Korv is sausage).
I sent my journal in the form of letters home. I wound up misidentifying many things, and explaining things that were self-explanatory to me. This was my first international trip, and I had mistakenly entered Sweden through the wrong gate - thus becoming an "undocumented alien". (What came of this will be seen in a few months.) The monetary exchange rate in 1974 was about Skr 4:50 = $1.00. As a 23-year-old novice traveller, I thought $12 expensive for a hotel room!
Kungsbacka, March 13, 1974 11:00 p.m.
Well, I was right and everyone else was wrong! In my own experience so far, about half of the Swedes can speak a little English, and the other half can't at all.
At the hotel in Göteborg they spoke English, and wandering around the city I met a nice guy who spoke English (I ran into him both Tuesday night and Wednesday morning). My money -except for a few hundred kronor is all in the bank now, to be withdrawn at my leisure. It's gaining interest in the meantime. I bought a cap. I got my hatchet (Swedish steel), a knife (Finland), some new shirts, a sweater, and some jeans. I left Göteborg after noon - walked to Kållered. Because it was getting late, and I had to be here before late, I took a bus to Kungsbacka, then walked south to Hanhals, and west to the little black square on the map right after the "ö" in "Korsö". Hopefully I'll get to see the castle at Korsö tomorrow. Anyway, the black square is what I was told is the home of Tore Börjesson, a fiddler. Now it's the home of his brother. But they (his brother's family) gave me some cookies and milk and took me to the home of Ingvar Magnusson - the brother of a friend in LA.
(Incidentally, many Swedish farmhouses have evergreen branches as foot-wiping mats at their front doors). I've been invited to stay tomorrow and play the fiddle at Mrs. Magnusson's birthday party. None of these people speak English (except that Mr. Börjesson's son speaks a very little - about as much as I speak Swedish.) Ingvar tells me that he has a girl who speaks English, but I haven't met her yet.
I saw three familiar birds - dove, pigeon, and mallard. One unfamiliar one - similar to a crow. I'm staying at the Magnusson's in my sleeping bag on a mattress. We are approximately on the "M" in "Myrekulla" on the left page of map 7 in the Bilatlas, east and south of Kungsbacka.
Before I left for Sweden, I had bought through the mail a copy of "KAKs Bilatlas", the Swedish Automobile club's road atlas. I left it at home for my family to follow my travels as I pinpointed my location according to the identical book that I bought my first day in Göteborg. I had no concept of distances, and I brazenly introduced myself to anyone connected with fiddle music whenever I had the chance. The hospitality I received was tremendous.
Kungsbacka, March 14, 1974 10:50 a.m.
This is a dairy farm. There are quite a few cows and calves, and one horse. It's very large, no doubt some type of work horse. They have a dog - a Västergötlands spets. It's a very small breed, common in Sweden but not internationally recognized. The girl's name is Maude. (that's not the Swedish spelling, I'm sure, but that's her name.) She's the farmhand. Mrs. Magnusson's name is Karina.
The people around here are exceptionally friendly (with the possible exception of the man who rode by me in the dark last night on a bicycle and didn't stop when I asked him for help. Many people say "hej!" when they pass me on the street.
All the windows I've seen so far (except in the barn) are double-paned, with at least two centimeters between the sheets of glass.
The two cities I've been in - Göteborg and Kungsbacka - are made for walking. There are wide sidewalks and few parking spots. There are many Kiosks and "Pressbyrå" - places where one can walk up and buy magazines or refreshments. There are also several "Korv-bar" - sausage bars. A "bar" here is anything but a place to buy liquor.
Most of the non-evergreen trees are still bare, but the pussywillows are all budding everywhere. The only bodies of water I've seen up close are the canal in Göteborg and Rolfsån (Rolf's Creek), which I crossed in the dark last night. From the air, though, I saw dozens of lakes in the vicinity of Göteborg. I expect I'll see a big lake tomorrow - Lygnern. Unless something comes up with the fiddlers to make me stay another day, tomorrow morning I'll set out for Fjärås, then along the south shore of Lygnern towards Skene.
[pause]
I just had a little tour of the area. Ingvar drove me into the village of Myra to pick up his son at kindergarten. Incidentally, on the map the double red line is like freeway; solid thick red line just highway, not divided. Yellow roads are narrow country roads, barely wide enough for passing, and thin red lines are dirt roads. Many of the "yellow" roads have a narrow lane marked off on one side with a dashed line for bicycles.
Sweden was a brand new place to me, and I tried to make note of as many new things as I could. "Maud" is the correct spelling of the Swedish name. I am embarrassed at my ignorance sometimes. What I thought were pussywillows were actually birch trees. They are found in abundance all over the southern half of the country.
[pause] 2:30 p.m.
I've been observing the local flora and fauna. I saw two magpies and some other large birds I couldn't identify. There are quite a few sparrows around. The wind is primarily from the southwest (off the coast), so a lot of trees have been planted on the southwest side of the house at approximately 20 meters. I've noticed a type of chestnut tree with inedible fruit - looks to me like a buckeye.
[pause] 9:00 p.m.
All I've done is eat all day! First "smörgås" (sandwich) for breakfast at 8:00. If I'd gotten up earlier, I would have had regular breakfast. At 10:15 was "kaffe" (coffee), with five different kinds of cake and cookies. At 1:00 p.m. was "middag", dinner with pork chops, vegetables, potatoes, salad, and pineapple for dessert. "Kaffe" again at 3:00, this time with seven different kinds of cake and cookies, then we snacked on fruit. At 8:00 we had "smörgås" for supper, with an egg dish, fish, two kinds of meat, cheese, milk, and four kinds of bread. I sampled everything but the herring and cheese.
I was invited to stay a few more days, but I don't want to overdo it here. They are very nice people, and I'll visit them again when I can speak better Swedish. I can talk very well with Anders, the 12-year-old. He sticks to simple vocabulary and speaks slowly and clearly for me. I can also do pretty well with Mrs. Magnusson. Maud is just the hired hand, so I only saw her a little. She is 24, very good looking, and has a very proper British accent in her English.
I'm doing pretty well in my Swedish, though. Tonight I told them how to pan for gold. I was mistaken in spelling: Mrs. Magnusson's name is Carin. I should get to a post office tomorrow, probably in Fjärås.
Fotskäl, March 15, 1974 6:15 p.m.
Am I tired! I walked 3 1/2 Swedish miles today. (35 km = 22 miles) I still don't have any stamps, but I should get some in Skene tomorrow. I went today through Myra, Vallby, Fjärås, Öxared, Tostared, Sandryd, Vilg, and Fotskäl. I'm in my tent now about a kilometer past the church in Fotskäl. I saw three churches today (I couldn't get inside any) with graveyards around them. I've never seen such neat graves! They're all marked with stone monuments, bordered with polished granite, covered with raked gravel, and there's a fresh green wreath on each one. I saw 4 or 5 small lakes, and of course, Lygnern. It's a very large oblong lake, and quite beautiful. About half of all the houses I've seen are typical Swedish red with white trim. The weather threatened rain today, but it was just cold - not wet.
Överlida, March 16, 1974 8:00 p.m.
I covered a lot more ground than I thought I would today. First, when I woke up, it was 6:00. I looked out the window of the tent and it was foggy - I didn't have to open the window to know it was cold. I got dressed slowly and ate a little, so it was 8:00 before I started to take down the tent. As I was doing so, a man came up and seemed surprised that I would camp when it's so cold - thank goodness for goosedown! We chatted a bit (in Swedish, of course), and he walked away. By the time I was ready to put on my pack, he came back with a tractor to get some logs next to where my tent had been. He evidently was the owner of the property, although it wasn't fenced in.
There is an ancient law in Sweden called "Everyman's Rights". Among other things, it allows travellers to camp on public or private land overnight, if no damage is done.
My feet and especially my back were quite sore from the previous day, so I decided that I'd take it easy and rest often. In fact, my back was so sore that I decided I'd accept any ride offered me. I got to the church at Hajon (look at page 8 in the map book) and didn't even try to go inside. I didn't even want to take the trouble of taking a picture. A little north was a store, where I decide I was going to buy some food. There was also a letter-box so I could mail the letters I'd been carrying around for a few days. I didn't know the word for "can opener", but lo and behold, the girl who worked at the store could speak a little English! We talked a bit, and I was invited to eat in the back room. She offered me coffee (her name is Inger Ericsson, for the record), but I turned it down. When her boss came in and offered me some, though, I took half a cup. I'll bet that she's glad that the six years of English she had in school weren't entirely wasted. The boss said that he is going to Lappland in August, also (you know I am). He's not the first who's told me that that is the most beautiful part of the country. Just before I put on my pack to leave, he took two pictures of me. I get the impression more and more that I am the only long-distance walker in Sweden at this time of year.
My short-term goal was to get to Småland, and establish my home base in Sweden. On the way, I wanted to get stockings to go with my Swedish costume, which I knew I would be using eventually at festivals. I had an address for someone who sold them in Överlida.
Before I got to the main road, I saw a good-sized grass fire on one farm. I didn't see anyone tending it, so I assumed it was out of control. But another farmer nearby stood calmly clipping his hedge, and the cars that went by ignored it, so I guess it was purposely set to destroy the old remains before plowing for a new crop. I had noticed many places where fire scars existed in farm fields.
When I got to the main road at Hjorttorp, I caught a bus into Skene. Then I took the wrong road and started walking to Kinna instead of Örby. When I saw Örby Church's steeple in the distance behind a hill to my right, I realized my mistake. Incidentally, there is one point where one can see Skene's church, Kinna's church, and Örby's church just by looking in the three different directions from the same spot. I went to the railway station in Kinna, and this time asked directions to Örby. The lady at the kiosk was the second person in one day who could speak English. When I was finally on the right road, a car stopped, and the couple asked where I was going, and could they give me a lift? I hopped in, and with some difficulty explained all that I was doing. I was headed for Överlida, but they thought I might like to take some pictures at their favorite spot of beauty. So when we got to the fork in the road south of Örby, we went right instead of left, and followed the shore of Östra Öresjön to Hyltenäs. A forty-room castle was built there in 1917 (one bath), and burned to the ground in 1923. There is a beautiful view in all directions from the hill where the castle stood. From there they drove me to Öxabäck and on to Överlida. I went into the hotel there, and arranged for the man who sells stockings for Swedish costumes to meet me there. I bought the stockings, and got the address of a fiddler, Oskar Selin, who lives in the building around the corner. He was home, so I decided to spend the night in Överlida Hotel.
Oskar is originally from Hälsingland, and is the only fiddler in the area. I got 1 1/3 cassette tape of his playing - some of it seconding with me. After I learn a few tunes off it, I'll send it so Grandpa can hear it. There's a lot of talking on the tape, too - all in Swedish. He will be in Hälsingland at the same time as I, so he gave me his address there, and an invitation to stay there. That may be around the time that Donna (my cousin, who was thinking of travelling in the summer) comes to Sweden.
Swedish doors don't have knobs, they have levers. One really doesn't have to worry about theft here, at least in the smaller towns. Packages to be delivered are left by the side of the road, and I can leave my pack untended without worrying. I have a blister under my right big toe. My back feels much better, so I should be able to walk at least 25 km tomorrow toward Fegen. It keeps threatening rain, but I won't complain so long as it only threatens.
My encounter with Oskar Selin was a pivotal one. It was my first experience with the genuine fiddle music of Sweden as it is normally played. I knocked on his apartment door, and was politely invited in, when I told them I was a fiddler. We had a very hard time communicating, and our "jam" was rather strained. I wanted to hear anything Swedish that could reflect on American fiddling, and he was trying to figure out any Swedish tunes that I might know. (Other than formula folkdance tunes, my repertoire was almost nothing.) Besides a few token common tunes, such as "Gärdebylåten" and "Fiolen Min", he played several tunes from Hälsingland, and some from Dalarna. Before I mailed that tape home, I listened to certain tunes on it several times, and eventually got one of them into my head well enough to play it: the well-known "Skänklåt från Dala-Järna", which I had never heard before.
To hear a music clip, click here.
Ätran, March 17, 1974 11:30 p.m.
Here I am in a hotel again. Twice in a row! If this keeps up, I'll be lucky to be able to afford to stay till September. Today I started south from Överlida, and realized that it was Sunday, and I hadn't stocked up on food! I had just one chocolate bar and half a box of raisins, and three rolls. I got as far as Mjöbäck having eaten one roll and some raisins. I stopped at the church there, and observed a little of the service. There were hardly any people in the congregation, but the Lutheran Evangelical equivalent of a high mass was going on. The minister preached the sermon from a pulpit 15 feet off the ground. I went outside again and took some pictures. It started to rain, very lightly. I saw a man in a parked car outside the church, and asked him where I might get some food. He told me that the only place he knew of was the hotel in Älvsered. I walked about a kilometer south of the church, and a car stopped and gave me a lift into Älvsered, where I had a huge meal. It was the cheapest meal they have - 10 meatballs, carrots in cream sauce, cucumbers and lettuce, and fried potato slices - three potatoes worth! When I finished eating, I started southeast towards Gunnarp. It turned out to be a dirt road, well packed. what with it being such a small road, and Sunday, and raining, I only saw 10 cars and one motorcycle between Älvsered and Gunnarp. About 1 1/2 km before I got to Gunnarp, I met two families on the road, also walking to Gunnarp. They live there, so they invited me for coffee. I also got my canteen filled with "lemonade". ("Lemonade" is what they call any fruit drink. This was blueberry.) They had a new piano with two keys that didn't work, so I fixed it. It turned out that their 16-year old daughter was going to a gammaldans tonight, so I was invited to go along. I danced a lot of dances I haven't done since I left Seattle, and also played with the band a little. One member of the band brought me to the hotel here in Ätran. The dance was in Mårdaklev. The guy who brought me here plays the guitar, his name is Thore Thorson, and he invited me to stay at his house whenever I get to Varberg (due west of here, on the coast).
There's some fire escape in this hotel. You sit on a little strap and jump out the window. A rope and pulley slow you down. The lakes I've passed are all in the thawing stages. I even saw a pair of ducks in one lake.
Sweden in 1974 observed what in America are known as "blue laws". All the stores closed by 1:00 on Saturday afternoon, not to reopen until Monday morning. I was really in a pickle without any food, because there was none to be bought where I was. The restaurant at the hotel saved me from going hungry. The gammaldans (old-time dance) in Mårdaklev was my first public music experience in Sweden. The dances - waltz, hambo, snoa, mazurka, polka - were familiar to me from my college days in Seattle. Playing the fiddle and following the band, I was able to pick up a tune - "Wiggen" - which I later found was one of the commonest accordion polkas in Sweden. The title is the same as that of the hammer in Scandinavian mythology of Tor's Hammer. So "Tor's Hammer" is what it became known as when I returned home and taught it to others.
March 18, 1974. See March 19, 1974.