arriving in Stockholm

Luck was with me on my connection to Atlanta, luck was with me on my connection to Paris (where I landed at 6 in the morning on Saturday, thus in need of a morning breakfast treat)...

And luck remained with me on my flight to Stockholm (where I came in more or less on time, right around noon). I did have to check my suitcase -- it got too heavy for me to lift into the overhead. Once I decided to go that route, I relaxed in my packing and even threw in my flip flops in addition to the new sandals! The more useful item -- also a last minute decision on this one! -- for Stockholm at least, is an umbrella. The one and a half days I'm here are slated to have periods of rain -- tonight and tomorrow. And I am delighted. Rain means I need not be ambitious in my walks through the city. Rain means that I can take longer to head out in the morning and stay close to my hotel base. Yes, rain is my friend this weekend!

[An insert here about traveling alone as an "older" person: I have stamina. I have strength. I have drive. I have fortitude. What is less on my side is that I am easily distracted and thus forgetful. If I dont make a point of counting what I'm holding onto, chances are I'll put something down and forget about it. Like at the Paris airport, where I will have left my passport in the security screening tray. Or at the diner restaurant, where I will have put down my lens cap and then forgot all about it. Lost forever. I do that at home as well -- forget to take something while stepping out of the house, but of course, that is simply annoying and without much consequence. In travel, and especially after a sleepless night, I have to be more careful!]

In Stockholm, I'm staying at the Villa Dagmar. Finding an interesting hotel, centrally located (for me this means close to the best bakeries and to the market!) was not easy. Dagmar was a good fit. And my room is small but pretty!

Note the flowers. They asked if I wanted some in the room and if so, what kind. I said yes and please make them Swedish, in gentle colors. This is what I found:

Gorgeous!

So now what? It's not raining yet. I throw down my suitcase and head out.

Stockholm, they say, is a walkable city, concentrated in a small area and thus easy to navigate. Still, you have to have a goal, or at least a direction. This is a no brainer: I definitely want to see the older parts of the city (Gamla Stan, on the island). But before I get to that, I pop into the market, which actually has a secret doorway to it, straight out of my hotel.

It's a lovely and somewhat dignified market.

In addition to produce... (chantarelles! colorful tomatoes! strawberries!)...

 

 

... cheeses, fish and three kinds of lobsters...

 

 

 

... you could also buy one of these:

Their open-face sandwiches are so pretty and so tempting, but I resist. I'm focused on the bakeries, where I plan on following a Swedish tradition of stopping for "fika," which is their afternoon cake and coffee pause.

For this I go to Stora Bageriet -- one of the many bakeries with a solid following. There's a line, but not too long. And the pastries? Exactly as I had imagined them to be -- beautiful. My idea of the perfect, absolutely perfect companion to a milky coffee.

Which would you pick?

I walked away with two: the traditional cinnamon one (right, below) and the plum topped pastry (left, below). Superbly delicious, both of them.

I did not come all the way to Stockholm to limit myself to just one! I eat them at one of the numerous outdoor tables where I do some serious people watching.

(twins, dressed in Swedish colors...)

 I like my hotel neighborhood because it is on a street that for a good chunk of the day is totally car free, and the stores aren't for tourists, they're for Swedes. Or at least there are a lot of Stockholm locals. 

 

 

Walk over to Gamla Stan and everything changes: the old town is packed with visitors. I mean, not nearly as bad as some of the major capitals of Europe, but still, there are a lot of souvenir shops and people looking for souvenirs. 

 

 

 

Nonetheless, it's all very colorful. Much more so than I had imagined. And I also had not grasped the significance of the waterways here. I knew Stockholm was on the northern coast of the Baltic Sea, but the city itself is deeply inland -- part of an archipelago of many islands, and so I wasn't thinking I'd be always along a water's edge. And yet...

Stockholm is in fact spread over 14 islands and beyond that, there are thousands more and you can take a ferry ride to admire them. (If you stay on a ferry long enough -- like for about ten hours -- you can wind up in Turku, Finland.) Ferry rides take time and are a passive way of exploring a city you're visiting for only a day and a half, so I wont do any of that, but I do like walking along Stockholm's waterfront. (There is an unexpected cloudburst right as I get to the open waters, and of course I did not bring my umbrella along for the walk! Dumb me. No matter. I wait, it passes.)

 After crossing several bridges, I get to the island with the old town. I head toward its heart, which everyone would agree is at Strotorget Square. [On my walk there, I pass the Royal Palace. Sweden still has royalty -- the current monarch, Carl XVI Gustaf has been at it for quite a while -- since 1973! Talk about holding on to power past your prime!]

 

 

(Buildings along Strotorget Square)

 

I dont think of Stockholm as a real museum city, though they do have a very old ship you can admire at the Vasa (maritime) Museum and high on the list of popular sights is also the ABBA museum. No thanks. I prefer to just walk.

(Off the beaten path...)

((note pointy rooftops!)

Okay, I am officially tired. A brief pause at the hotel. And now it's time for dinner. I had chosen the Hantverket Restaurant for tonight's meal. I really do not remember why. I do these things back at the farmhouse when I have a spare hour -- I go through lists, check websites, and put in a reservation. 

People eat here at an earlier time and this makes me very happy, because I have not slept since my farmhouse night and even that wasn't restful because, as you may recall, I had to pack late into the night and get up early to catch my flight out. So I am tired.

And I want Scandinavian food! I order to fill that need. 

Mackerel, cucumber, potato crutons, yogurt...

 

Followed by rye bread toasts with chantarelles and spiced cheese, and finishing off with  strawberries with mascarpone ice cream and elderberry and strawberry consomme. I think there's a cookie in there as well.

 

The evening didn't quite end there. I'd been people watching and I'd noticed quite a few rainbow themed shirts and such out there. Too, Stockholm is bedecked with rainbow flags. Initially, I thought nothing of it. So the city is supportive of its LGBTQ community. No surprise there. But when I idly googled Gay Pride in Stockholm while waiting for dessert, I found out that actually this was Gay Pride week in Sweden and Stockholm had had a celebratory Gay Pride parade earlier today. Related to that, or maybe not related to it at all, there was a very glitzy drag queen joining some diners at the table behind me and after a while, she got tired of their company and came over to chat me up.

 

There was a lot of discussion of whether I should go out with them to some gay bars after dinner, but I gave a hard no to that. I'm twice their age and I've been traveling and I am dead tired. My late night bar hopping days are over under the best of circumstances. We settled for some photos and then I left.

So ends a very full day! Lovely city, lovely walks, great food, fantastic bakeries, friendly people. And aside from that one downpour, it didn't even rain. Yet. Maybe tomorrow! One can hope!

with love...

taking off

Early in the morning, I give a quick glance out on the garden. No snipping lilies. Just a look, and a smile.

I eat a very sentimental, very lovely breakfast on the porch with Ed keeping me company...

I water plants, I pause, trying to remember what else I may need in the next couple of weeks, and then Ed drives me to the airport and I catch a flight out, to Atlanta and then across the ocean.

Where to? Well, eventually to Poland.

I haven't been back since before Covid. On my last trip, in 2019, I still had my apartment in Warsaw and when I left, I didn't quite realize I'd never go back to it. (I sold it shortly after.) 

My returns to Poland have always been like that: very frequent and then, abruptly, I take a break. Sure, this time Covid pushed me to cancel any return, but once I resumed travel, I stayed away. Why? Well, it's complicated, but trust me, it felt right to do a short pause, especially since my friends came to visit me in Madison and then agreed to meetups in other European countries. 

But the itch to return, to visit, has definitely been nibbling away at me. 

This time, I'm not going straight to Warsaw. I'm stopping first for a couple of nights in Stockholm -- a city I do not know, a city that has great bakeries that I wish I did know, a city that I felt sure I would visit soon enough and yet I never got around to it. So, tomorrow I should be in Stockholm. See you then!

with love, of course!

It's August 1st!

My last morning of lily snipping. Just short of 300 still, but I'm done with the rigorous daily garden cleanup. Let nature do her thing.

So, one last photo run of a basically July garden, on the 1st of August. (Can you believe it's already August?)

(good morning, green froggie!)

(good morning, chickens!)

Breakfast, on the porch. I do something rare: I cut four lily blooms for the table. Their numbers may be dwindling, but that's all the more reason to enjoy them at every opportunity!

I get things ready then. For my August travels. And for my older daughter's birthday celebration. Tonight, at the farmhouse, with her family.

This includes a bit of driving around. Errands, and importantly -- cake. I decided not to bake one myself (no time for it) and so I pick up a pre-ordered chocolate one, with raspberry spread, cream and chocolate glaze from Madison Sourdough.

At home I run through my to-do list, and very quickly it is time to pick up Snowdrop. Thursday is just Snowdrop day, which on this particular occasion is a good thing because the girl can amuse herself while I cook dinner. (So can Sparrow... most of the time. But he leaves a bigger paper trail. Literally! His paper craft projects are legendary!)

She sort of kind of helps with present wrapping...

And we read, but I warn her that I can only give her so much of my time. Someone needs to cook dinner! And still, when Ed gets ready to go to the local farmers market, she begs to go. I throw caution to the wind. We go.

For the cheese curds from John. The Lemon cookie from Tom and Cat. For the conversation (and tomatoes) from Natalie.

And more corn from Stoneman's.

And now I have to speed cook! My daughter asked for Crispy Gnocchi with Burst Tomatoes and Mozzarella.  I'm on it!

Oh, but let's welcome the arrivals and do a family photo outside!

Happy birthday, oldest, awesome child of mine!

Happy, happy birthday!

(cake, with sparklers!)

They birthday celebrations end, they pack up the leftover chunk of cake, gather together the gifts, and head home.

What a day!

And now if you'll excuse me, I have to run upstairs and pack.

With so much love!

farmette days

Here's a difference between Ed and me (one of many): Ed was raised in the heart of New York City. Sure, his family spent summer weeks in upstate New York, and in his young adulthood he sequestered himself in a shack in a forest in Tennessee for many months, but really, he was thoroughly a city boy. And then, later in life, as he neared 50, he moved to the farmette. It was a complete flip for him: like a switch shutting off the power grid, he woke up with his urban soul turned off. He became a country boy. There is nothing about city life that appeals to him. Really, I can't think of a thing.

For me, if someone asked are you more of a city person or a country person, I'd say that it's like asking if I'm more Polish or American. The truth is, I take on the mood of the place I'm in. I was more Polish until I moved to New York. Then, again, I was more Polish in high school in Warsaw. Now, living as I do here, for 50 years straight, I am obviously more American. It's not even close. Still, when I go back to Poland, I feel that Polish water engulfing me once again. I'm still American and I check into a hotel using American documents and most often I choose to relate to the clerks in English (which is sort of bizarre, but I cant help it), but I feel that same pulse of Polish history and culture as the Polish person walking on the street past me. I cannot ever completely let go of my Polishness.

And it's the same with city versus country. I was born in the city, but lived the first few years in the deep Polish countryside. I spent summers there. I felt the seasonal change in forests and meadows, along riverbanks and fields of wheat. And yet, My formative years were in the city. New York, Warsaw, New York, Chicago.

And now, here I am in the country again, with a country wardrobe of roughed up shoes and summer shorts and sweatshirts rather than nice sweaters, and snow boots rather than sleek leather shoes. And when it's time to visit a city -- I am at a loss. Do 71 year old women wear shorts on hot days in the city? Do I need sandals instead of rubber flipflops (which I hose down before entering the house, because they are always dirty, as are, therefore, my feet).

I'm going to be visiting a whole bunch of big cities in the next couple of weeks. I mentioned this earlier here, on Ocean. And every few days it strikes me that I am quite unprepared for that much city. The absence of sandals in my closet was just one example.

All this to say that this morning, after doing the dirty business of lily snipping (only 285 today! yay!), after picking off a few weeds and watering the tubs of annuals, after taking just a few photos...

I sat down to breakfast, alone, because Ed was on a Zoom call and I knew it would take a very long time for him to come down...

After all that, I filled a bucket in the kitchen sink with soapy water, I brought down nail trimming gear and a bottle of rather colorless nail polish, and I attacked my feet. Because, you see, if you do get sandals (mine should arrive in the mail today!), your toes will be exposed, and country toes do not look good on city streets.

It took forever! 

I cant even remember when I had the last professional pedicure. Maybe never? Sure, I take showers, I clip nails to some short form, I keep clean. But my summer country feet are forever working away in the flower fields and that look of countryness stays with them. I had to take charge and attempt that metamorphosis -- from country back to city.

By the time I finished (and a sharp eye will note that my feet are not completely country-free!) it was time to pick up the kids. Unbelievable how time flies when you're trying to juggle identities and fit one into a mold you think will be a correct one, given your surroundings! [I will admit that the other day I also took out the ironing board and ironed a pair of linen pants for my upcoming travels! Last time I ironed clothing? When I was still teaching, so maybe ten years ago. And I only think I ironed then! I must have! Teaching has a huge performance component to it and looking frumpy doesn't exactly give you stature in law students' eyes, unless you're a white male and then you can get away with anything.]

Okay, hi kids!

It's hot today! We dont dally outside for long. We do the usual, with perhaps a little more play today. Feeling frisky!

Toward evening, kids are gone, Ed is biking. And I take out my bike too. Just for half an hour, but I missed the feel of a warm sun on my back as I bike past prairie fields.

And when I come back, I see that my new sandals have arrived. And of course, perhaps predictably, they do not fit. And so instead of making supper, I get into the car and drive to a shoe store because it's either that or wear rubber flip flops along city streets for the next two weeks.

(success!)

You could say that this day was all about feet. Weird, but true.

with love...

 

 

return to chaos

I'm in three places at once and it's not even 7 o'clock yet. Lily snipping (I stop half way to attend to other business), animal feeding, then quickly, I bike over to Steffi's House to let in a guy who has to fix the internet wiring. While there, I hustle the Polish visiting tenant to pack up. He has to be out of there within an hour or two. (He's moving to the sheep shed for a month!) Ed needs to drive over with his truck and remove the furniture we found for him. The real tenants are moving in for the next year and the place has to be ready for them. Can I have the garage door opener please? It's broken. Oh no! I wish I knew that yesterday! I pop into Tati's for breakfast foods. Too early. Baked goods not yet delivered. In the meantime the Mosquito dudes are on their way to give another push to the swarms of mosquitoes at the farmette. We need to corral as many animals inside as we can. The skittish chicken is impossible! We chase her, tempt her with a stale croissant (their favorite) -- it's no good. She flies off to who knows where. The others are in the garage, messing the place up, I'm sure.

Do we even have time for breakfast? Just barely.

(is "watermelon" breakfast?)

The young Polish engineer arrives with his junk for the sheep shed, How did he accumulate so much junk in his brief stay here? Oh, that's right. He and his wife (now in Poland) had a baby. Babies breed junk. Ed and I take over a lawn mower to Steffi's, Ed loads up the  stuff for Goodwill. I mow the lawn there. It's a hill and the grass is tall. Too tall. The mower jams every two minutes. Ed fixes the garage door opener then takes over the mowing while I try to sweep the mud out of the garage. Hurry! We have until noon!

Okay, house is ready for the next move-in.

Go home. But not for long. It's getting close to grandkid pickup time and I still need to swing by UPS (a return), the pharmacy, and Madison Sourdough to pick up cookies for Sparrow and croissants for... everyone. Wait, shouldn't I finish tidying the garden? 

Thankfully, the lily count is now below 300.

(Some pics from this morning)

Okay, pick up kids. I offer no resistance to the push to get ice cream at Tati Cafe. 

 

 

 

 

 

Bring the kids to the farmhouse. Read. Eat. Play.

Return kids to parents. 

Is that it? I'm sure I forgot something. Hmmm. I know! Groceries! No time to shop. Put in an order for delivery. I dont care if the fruit isn;t picked by me. I just need food in the pantry for the next few weeks. 

Exhale.

Collapse.

Eat reheated chili. Drink a glass of wine.

Watch the macabre Ripley series, then finally, finally, a switch to the Olympics. On the couch. With a smile, and love... 

Monday tasks

It is a day to push things forward. With determination! Things are happening this week. I have to be ready for all of it. Moving day (not for me, but it may as well be that), a birthday (not mine!), a trip -- and before that -- a flower bed to plant, some weeds to pull -- all on my mind, on this partly sunny, partly rainy, and buggy once again day.

So forgive me if I am rather brief here. 

Someone recently asked me -- how do I keep the number of snipped lilies in my head? Because I rarely mix things up. I mouth the numbers so that an automatic counting process can take hold. It works. Except on days like today where I lose it all and suddenly find myself saying one hundred and twelve when I'm fairly certain that a couple of lilies ago it was already two hundred and sixty. But, numbers do not matter any more. The Big Bed is almost lily free by now (not enough sun to keep it going into August, thank you shady trees!), and the lily field by the porch is packing up as well, though the tall spider lilies are late bloomers and from their towering spikes alone I snipped a whopping 35 lilies. So, some late bloomers are still going strong, but most are done. And as you may have guessed, I am also lily-tired. Ready to move on to other aspects of summer.

The garden, from this day? I'm never tired of looking at it!

Breakfast, on the porch of course. It's a good day for it, weather wise.

(Friendly, on a stump)

 

 

(Unfriendly, who is actually pretty friendly, on another stump)

Aside from planting a redo of a flower bed (with 17 new plants), I do nothing that warrants mention here. It is an absolute chore day - the type that makes you feel like a kid checking off boring homework assignments. You know the kind -- coloring in the map of the world or doing endless division problems. 

Except that... well, I a little bit like the occasional boring days. At home, going nowhere except to the barn and back. And to the flower fields of course. Days that perhaps have too much computer time, but nonetheless feel like they tidy up my life a bit. Chaos returns tomorrow, but today was very simple, gentle, and sweet.