Summer of the ´17

With influensa on the rise and sun buried somewhere under grey cotton for heaven today, looking back on travel memories up the end of summer/fall is like a warm cup in your hands 🙂 gets you warm from the inside.

No you know what…
I had just one heck of a wonderful year in 2017!!!


Step once look twice

The first day at home started with a bone chilling fight. That would be me in pygamas trying to open a frozen door from the garden, to get to the car and check tire dimensions. Hurrying not only for -5C that my airy home pants welcomed more than my own legs, but also for car workshop waiting in the phone. I mean, why check the dimensions before calling? That would be smart, and that is not allowed in a fluffy warm blanket, in a lazy sunny freezing morning. Right?

Checking on the tires I realize one is nearly bold (front left: yeah, what do you think? Carry a precious weight for driver for the last 10000 km) and one is actually year round. So okay, if stopped by police I get one tire (60 euro) less in fine. Hmmmm… Nä. And the national-wise hunt for winter rims&tires for my bug for a car continues. In the end a set of both is found on a 2 days delivery distance and 500 euro price tag. Hm. Well it is a choice with no choice really ))) What is the price of freedom against its value?? 🙂 and kaching!: the set is eventually on its way.

Sitting by the kitchen table (where else you get strategically close to coffee machine) with the computer and phone, I suddenly realize I am not alone in the kitchen. The sound of quirk-quirk music hits through silence together with another chilling memory of 2 months floor-less kitchen last winter, when field mice seeked warmth (hard to blame, I’d do the same)) in the house and organized thier private water supply by chewing on the howes to a dish washer (that I would probably pass). Last winter, squirking under the sink turned into squirking on(of) the floor when the water level underneath got high enough. We fill the dishwasher twice a day, it didn’t take long… So, with this colourfu picture in my head, I got to search for a screwdriver…

No I know where my tools lay in the house okay. I just don’t know why the repairing company last winter, had to use plastic howes again, and even expecting more occasions of inspection, then screw the floor of the sink closet underneath all the rest of equipment???? I need to be a freaking plomber to get all this shit out and in again!!! A moisturemeter, whatever the right name is. A moisturemeter, mousetrap and a cup of coffee. Yepp. And the screwdriver goes back to its idle. Together with the screws: what’s the point? The floor sits tighter than a virginity belt on a crusader’s girlfriend.

Back to the phone. My old blind dogs morning toilet, there were flakes of blod in urine. Sorry for details. I don’t know if I would rather not learn them, either. I don’t know what I am craving less for now, put on hold on the phone: to get the bill for the veterinar investigation (around 300 euro, kaching!!) or to learn the diagnosis. To hear vet’s honest recommendation or to take the decision… Even if I want to keep calling or not. I don’t know.

No time available until next week. Am I more worried or relieved? I don’t know…

BZEEP! A message. From the handy man hired to fix the water communications in the old ghost house I got as a side project. After faults in the installation that costed a neat and round 1000 euro, I asked him to stay away and wait until I get back. ”I changed the pipes!” – a happy message. He is a nice person actually. ”You did WHAT???” …no answer.

Breathe. One. Two. Three. Four.

Meeting with the bank went fast. My company account is now closed, all services and credit cards are cancelled. Stearing at the finalizing paper from the tax authority, a sudden vivid memory came up: sitting with a bright soul close friend of mine on the day he had to announce his company bancrupt, one year and a month ago. It eas heavy but it was a new beginning; we would go sailing around the world, we agreed. A week later he was sitting on the corner of my hospital bed counting needles in my arm, talking sence into my foggy head about how I should take care of myself. And a week later he himself was gone. Just like… snap. One year and a week ago. He went sailing alone I guess. Maybe it is good we didn’t have a chance to say goodbye and he didn’t ask if I want to follow with. I don’t know.

Even in fase with my senses, it feels so heavy. Serenity, freedom and happiness moments of the last month seem to be compensated against present concerns by unfair exchange rate. One more distant memory from my childhood popped up (is it some kind of freaking memory geizer today???), of me being affraid to be happy. Because each truly joyful moment would be followed by tripple amount of tears: the rule that has proven itself. It wasn’t worth it to allow myself to be happy, it cost too much. God I wish I could forget this now!!

The last jacket of three I bought on my North Cape journey got zipper broken during my regular night walk with the dog as the last accord of the day. In old fairy tales, maid would need to wear out three pairs of iron shoes to get to her destiny, does zipper count in modern interpretation? ) It is time, it is time…

I left my heart in Istanbul

  1. Today leaving the city that has vibrant energy and colours landed on shapes and interactions; a wispering story behind each piece of patterned tiles hidden in garbage and bushes, an equal strong and quick answer to each message you leave here, in Istanbul.  This time, my regular globetrottermood: no sightseeing whatsoever, only experiences: sun, sounds, colours, energies, people, small tasks, languages, tastes. Oh and languages is something that is served as a local specialty here: feeling of crossborder unity has never been stronger than while a conversation about matrimonial experience, taken in a mix of English (as a minority), French, Turkish, Swedish, Russian and Arabic, all between same two persons.  
  2. The thing I am not going to miss when back in Sweden, is a constant  background of polis/pray megaphones. I met people who were kind, proud, strong, ambitios, caring, aware, helpful, joyful, tricky, inventive, curious, active and mindfull. The level of entrepreneurial energy doesn’t seem to change since Ottoman empire,either. With that ball of fire that the soul of the nation is, any restrains: political as religios, seem to be ridiculous and serving any other interests than country’s; and therefore even more sad you become as you think about the development of events in recent years. 
  3. Every time I come back here, there is a glimpse of fear in my heart: what if this will be the time when the balance needs to be restored and instead of excitement, dissappointment comes up? What if one day I return striving for historical and cultural autenthicy but find nothing else than slogans on ruins wrapped in plastic and Insta-filters? Well… if this city, this meeting point between Europe and Asia, will perish for brainwashing and money goules,  maybe there is not much left to save your heart for; the Dark Ages will officially arrive and that I will certainly not be able to live through, anyway. So I lean on providence, hope for the best of human nature and I leave now, I leave my heart in Istanbul 🙂

Istanbul: the last breath of history trying to learn us something…

All mixed in this city: old and new, strong and soft, muslim and ortodox, freedom and pressure… I don’t know another place where I feel as much home as here, the place where none language sounds foreign, and all cultures of Europe have some root or brunch. If I ever go looking for the tree of the eternity, I will be here.  I was not born here but you are in my blod, Istanbul.


Going home from North, 23/6 afternoon

Taking the same route home is fun because it helps to recollect and live again through funny moments, like this one. Great name for a lake: Resposibility. Here I shared a midsommar dinner with a group of local fishermen. Passing by the lake, I did see theit boat, but it was a bit too far, I was a bit in a hurry 🙂


I did take my time with the forest though 🙂 Silence, humidity, smells and textures…. Excitement 🙂

Well, yes… way back home was kinda another story. The rain, not-at-all-summer cold, road maintainance… It was like the decompression camera, turning me back to reality so that my blood would not boil and kill me.

As the evening was falling down there was once again, time to look for a calm place to stop. …Don’t know how manny more kilometres I drove just fascinated by the views, before I had to admit I was exhausted. And before I found the spot which was NOT a private garden ))) One of beautiful sights of Sweden, close to a metropolis, you know…



Coming home fromNorth Cape: What is looking on pics from summer journey, a half year after?

Okay ))) The first morning of the last day with the midnight sun started with a healthy consideration: why on earth am I in the middle of the forest, sank in the moss and squeezed between the trees? Charmed  by the altitude transition, this reaction would be the first sign of awakening… Good I guess! But you can’t help the feeling that the magic is running out. Awakening. 20150623_114213

Stopped for shopping in Pajala, and god knows what made me drive up to the wooden church I saw on the GPS. It appeared to be a place of a bit of a special story, the preacher Lars Laestadius realm. A man was passionate about folks quit drinking and get to their families insted. A great example of that good retorics and prescribed roles make miracles  quite torn away from the reality: he himself was mostly away and hunting och picking flowers, while his own wife was struggling with the death of every second child she gave birth to (and they had 7 who survived, do the math), accepting people who came for healing – and making the very medicins out of the herbs she had around.

The story of an outstanding effort and result where women’s part is kinda… lost. No wonders it was knocking in the house before my visit, scaring poor guides – young girls, doing their summer jobs in the old house-museum. Behind the stories of social changes and great success, there are stories of sorrow that must be outspoken.

So what we have here, is the memory that people paid to the couple, preacher and his wife. Oh, and he got a bronze bust as well, on the hill by the house.

Wet through shoes and back to my well dust car 🙂 yes, keep the distance on the parking! Or you’ll share the roads I’ve gone, quite literary.


Pure. allegory. of choice. and freedom. (Pick&Mix as you wish).


First time I sat behind the steering wheel of a SUV, I didn’t feel any difference really. Well, it didn’t go as fast as the rest of the cars could, and it took a bit more excercise to get into it, then in most of the other cars. And it also took some time to get the point with extra gears as well… What a misery, am I on the wrong place? But it felt right, becides, I didn’t have any other options. That old jeep was all I had to choose between.

Even to deal with our own experience, we need learning and guidance. I didn’t quite got yet what I had in my hands when I experienced a mixture of joy, relief and revenge, as I managed to get out of the blocked parking (for the 150-th time!! some folks just don’t see the problem of double parking!) by crowling over the pavement edges, stones and gras. I still thought it was a funny coincidence, happening to have a right tool for the temporary challenge.

Sometimes I peeped into the autosports pages in newspapers, filled with jealous cravings about big badass forest monsters, driving where there is no walking possible. I knew my place: with abilities and possibilities in this life, forest driving is out of reach. The idea basically is, why would I needed offroad when there are so many roads to choose between? Seemed perfectly logical until some years later, I appeared to be behind the wheel in an old jeep, in the middle of the quarry. I was confused. There were no roads to choose between. There was a lot of snow covering the ground with not any signs of directions whatsoever. There was space, though if that of any comfort. But choices for emply space were kinda out of my level 🙂  ”Where can I drive?” – I asked a guy in another car, – ”can I drive behind you? For I don’t know where I shall drive…” – ”Well… where do you want to get?” – ”Eh… (Alice in Wonderland experience there))) since I almost could see the answer) …I don’t know.” – ”Well then drive wherever you want.

At that point, with every braincell screaming: the barriers of logic are usually broken painfully,  the road stopped being a matter of multiple choice for me, and became a philosophical issue.


The path is never an obstacle in itself ) the lack of tools and friends is.