I heartily recommend the Swedish breakfast. The hotel breakfast buffet, which I commented on before, is quite typical. Perfectly fresh and moist whole grain rolls and Swedish flatbread (sort of a chewy super-cracker) provided a platform for a lovely sandwich that could include boiled or smoked ham, some of the best salami I have ever had, fine-grained and no stringy or bony bits. Plus two kinds of cheese and a choice of sliced vegetables, and butter for the bread. I did not see or feel the need for mayo. Then hard or soft boiled eggs, fresh crispy bacon or sausage, two or three kinds of yogurts (some, including a kefir-like "sour milk" we don't see in the USA). I had lingonberry preserves with mine. Lest I forget, there were also pickled herring and anchovy, and oatmeal. Celeste and I found that we ate moderately, had sufficient protein with no cheap over-refined carbs, felt satisfied but not bloated and weren't hungry again until early afternoon. I honestly don't think this approach would work in the USA; too many people would over-indulge or take a doggie bag. The system depends on the Swedish understanding of a concept called "lagom" - translates as "just right" or "it's enough". This is typical of the laudable Swedish expectation that people will exercise self-control.We emptied our hotel room and drove over to the University area where we had arranged to meet our first "lost" relative - Anneli Svanholm. She is a student this year at Upsalla University in Linguistics. We spent a warm and friendly two hours chatting easily about our families, culture similarities and differences, current music, and many other things. Then we remembered our parking meter had run out, and said our goodbyes; we had a long drive to the north to Dalarna (pronounced doll'-arna). Dalarna is the home of the traditions of Sweden - beautiful handicrafts and arts, dreamy landscapes, and museums of the homes of famous Swedes such as the artist Carl Larson. It was a three hour drive for us to the town of Insjon (in-shoon), home to the folk school where Celeste expects to be studying in 2011. Sweden has for many decades supported these schools that teach traditional crafts such as woodworking, smithing, weaving and others. It is heartening to see arts, crafts and artists get the support, recognition and opportunity to exercise their talents in an income-producing manner (Swedes don't expect to pay Chinese import prices for artistic, quality handwork).
The nature of this landscape is a challenge to describe in words. We had heard it was pretty; and we live in a gorgeous part of New York state, the Finger Lakes area. But there was something truly exceptional about what we saw. Part of it was the extremely tall evergreens, towering over rocky outcroppings covered with a breathtaking palette of mosses, some so pale as to appear to be drifts of lichen-tinted snow, others rich and leprechaun green.
Around every corner were small farmsteads that were the polar opposite of what Malvina Reynolds described in her song as "houses made of ticky-tacky and they all looked just the same". These building shared a very narrow set of design elements, but like a handful of dice shaken out of a jar they came out in an endless variety of combination. They shared a sturdy, ages-old squared log style of construction; tiled roofs that one would have associated with the Mediterranean, one or one and one-half storey construction, and a limited paint scheme that bound the disparate whole together. There was first of all Falun Red - a deep, ruddy-rusty red that was based on local iron oxides; a magnificent slightly mustardy rich yellow; a delicate gray-green paint that resembled the velvety underside of certain flowers' leaves; and an emphatic blue used very sparingly as an accent trim. The sum of the effect left quite an impression.
After checking into our very handsome manor house hotel, we spent most of the afternoon getting a tour of the Folk School, Saterglantan. The two hours there strongly reinforced to Celeste that it was indeed THE place she wanted to come and study Swedish Weaving. I was particularly impressed with their philosophy of establishing for the student a deep sense of understanding the integrity the materials they were working with. For example, woodworking students fell trees, hand-split lengths of green wood, work it green on draw-horses and dry it for further cutting and processing. Weaving students harvest and process flax and shear sheep, working the whole from start to finish. Blacksmithing students spend two weeks living in the woods making charcoal, hardly sleeping while they tend the slow fire that transforms wood to charcoal. Overall, most impressive.
The next morning we concluded our brief visit to Dalarna by visiting the iconic home of Carl Larson. We greatly enjoyed a tour in English with a very well-prepared guide. Carl Larson was Sweden's most loved painter. His bold approach of painting his own family's private life, and his well-known love for them was quite transformational for an overly-formal
Victorian society that kept the children quiet and out of sight. Swedish families today tend to be very close and affectionate, and Larson gets some credit for that. The home and studio have been preserved as he left them, and have a deep imprint of the entire family.
The day ended when we reached our cousin Kent Svanholm's lakeside home after a six hour drive south. We re-fueled our efficient diesel, to the tune of nearly $7.00/gal. Once we found Kent, as tired as we were he and I found ourselves talking, comparing notes, and poring over genealogy papers until, both exhausted and excited, we finally crashed at midnight with plans for more family meetings on Thursday. Whew!
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