Under certain circumstances, sitting down on the ground and staring blankly in front of yourself is great solid fun. Such as, for example, after a week of marathon-style “get it done before vacation” work, after packing a thousand bags, after driving non-stop for ten hours – that’s it, you know you are there. This is what I felt this morning while watching my children chasing each other in and out of the shallow waters of Bullared lake in Northern Sweden.
Yes, technically it is Sweden, although we are some five hundred meters from the Norwegian border. The camp site which is to be our home for one day and two nights is red and blue from Norwegian flags on everybody’s porches. Locals call themselves “Svorsk” which is a cross between “svensk” – Swedish – and “norsk” – Norwegian.
This camp site features the best of Scandinavian traditions in vacationing. An individual in possession of a mobile house would rent a plot of land at a camp site, which would be big enough for the camper itself plus some more. “Some more” becomes gradually equipped with a wooden patio, fence, some fixtures to cremate sausages on and a tacky garden figurine. People like us who are just passing by and renting a cottage for one or two nights are invaders of this paradise of relaxation.
Geocaching, kicking off at the beach, paddling canoes on the still waters of the lake (it is so quiet that you can, in fact, hear bubbles in the swirls of your boat’s wake), cooking simple food and spending the entire day with just my family – if the whole trip is like this, I’d say it is a success.
The kids are turning blue, even if we moved closer to where summer is warm enough to be called summer with good conscience, it is still Scandinavia. It is time to get them out of the water.
