MIN ULRICA - ÖSTERSUND - DAY 19
We wake up and eat Mjukbröd macka for frokost. I haven’t had this since we’d visited Farmor over 12 years ago. It’s also homemade, and can’t be bought in the store- It can only be found in the north of Sweden in bakeries. It reminds me of my Swedish upbringing and childhood, and I’m in a state of bliss. Gebba runs to ICA next door for something, and I reminisce over my Swedish upbringing once more as I chew my special bread. She comes back, and tells us there’s a sign on the front door that says it will raise the rent on all of the apartments 40%! Thankfully there’s a union, (like an HOA) to fight this, but the general idea is for the owners to raise the rent so high, that if people like Gebba who’ve lived there for 18+ years can’t afford it, move out, and the government places immigrants there, and then pays for it. I thought I left all the scummy landlord people back in California, only to be reminded that there are scummy people all over the world. I hope the union wins, and Gebba can keep her place...I also hope they find a good place for the immigrants to stay. Everyone deserves a good home without forcibly being removed from it.
We finish breakfast, get ready, and walk 30mins into the city of Östersund to meet Ulrica. I’m anxious because I haven’t seen her for so many years, but I know when we see each other, it will be like no time has passed between us. She’s family, and never a stranger.
We come into the city, then her apartment, and all of a sudden, there she is. Min Ulrica. She’s 45 now, and still beautiful as ever. My parents and I exchange happy tears with her, and take turns sharing a long embrace making up for the years we’ve missed together.
We come inside her apartment, giddy to see each other finally. We give her warm slippers made by UGG, and she gifts me a ball cap. She knows I wear these, and it says “Norrland”- Special to northern Sweden. I accept it with care, and plan to wear it with great pride when I come back to home in the States. It’s already getting too cold to wear it with my hair up in Östersund- Winter is coming.
Ulrica has planned for us to go to the Jämtland Museum. She’s been reading all of my emails, and thought of me for the art there. I’m excited to do this, but mostly I’m just thrilled to spend time with her. I’ve missed her terribly, and although I held back tears when meeting, I had cried over the phone the night before when speaking with her, and over our previous emails before I had left for this trip.
We walk over to the museum, and catch up on life. Ulrica tells us about her niece and nephew, Adam and Julia. They live nearby. Adam builds computers, and Julia is a journalist, going in for her Masters. Ulrica also catches us up with the status of her parents. The “kids” and her mom and sister are doing really well. Ulrica’s health fluctuates, and so does her Dad’s. But these are strong Swedes of the North, and I’m optimistic that they’ll remain strong. I say this with a grain of salt... I hate to have my loved ones suffer, and to hear that Ulrica struggled the most with her illness last year, pains me the most.
We arrive at the museum and begin with the 17th century art installments, to whatever you call this decade. We admire each era, and are rather impressed with Östersund’s collection. We notice one painting of Icarus. I explain that through pop culture, we’ve only known half of the story. What we know is, the moral of the story is that Icarus should never become over confident and “shoot yourself in the foot” by flying too close to the sun, only to fall. But the second half of the story, the lesson we often miss, is essentially for Icarus to not fly too low, underestimating yourself, so that you’ll drown and never reach your destiny. Our favorite piece is a poster in Swedish by Lars Fuhre, “Allt är ditt fel”, meaning “It’s all / Everything is your fault”. It’s a typical Swedish, cynical poster, and we find it completely hilarious. I plan to look up the entire poster series, and buy one.
The museum is massive, and carries on to a diverse array of Scandinavian history and culture. We move into a section of the Sami people, who reside even more North of Sweden, Norway, and Finland. We suspect, some are of Russian and Asian origin and / or descent. They are mysterious people, leading difficult lives, surviving the freezing temperatures with their reindeer, and through traditions of survival, passed down from generation to generation.
We take a break, and Mom buys everyone lunch. We all have meatballs with potatoes and lingonberries. These aren’t IKEA meatballs. This is the real stuff. The good shit. I inhale everything in a nostalgic frenzy. It doesn’t get better than this.
...But then it does. We take coffee, and my favorite, apple cake with vanilla sauce. Oh my fuck. It’s SO. DAMN. GOOD. My stomach has been feeling better, but if it doesn’t after this, then my stomach be damned. This was totally worth it.
In the midst of inhaling my favorite foods, Mom tells me Dad had a revelation in Göteborg. He said the nature was so beautiful that, “Someone must have created this”. He’s Agnostic, and has fully rejected all religion after the untimely death of his father when MY dad was only 16 years old- My biological Farfar, Sven Svensson, whom I’ve never met. I questioned him if he’s suddenly admitting to believing in God. He brushes it off, and then gets interrupted. Enthusiastic to change the subject, I never got my answer. My mom and I just exchanged looks.
Totally satisfied in our bellies, mind and soul, we walk off our meal by exploring the KISS exhibit one floor down. Scandinavia is known for its long history of Black Metal music, and overall love for Rock n’ Roll. This section is popular amongst all museum goers- A sea of blondes in black t-shirts...I among them. It’s a fun time for all of us, and the exhibit transitions over to the rock period of Jämtland. My most remembered band here, is the SHIT KIDS. I’ll check out their music when I get home to the States.
Downstairs is the entire history of the Swedes, beginning from the Vikings all the way to the Middle Ages. Gebba and Ulrica got a bit tired at this point, and I’ve seen everything I wanted to see, so we decide to finish up a bit early before experiencing the ENTIRE museum. Walking through this last section, we’re completely dazzled at the Viking artifacts found throughout Northern Sweden. One intricate cross was found in 500AD, and we have difficulty fathoming how long ago this existed. Moreover, we were entirely impressed at the intricate craftsmanship for the time, and for how well it's been preserved. After our eyes absorbed every detail of every excavated piece, we took our fascination with us and left.
We walk Ullis home, but not before grabbing some ice cream, and walking to two gas stations to rent a car. We part ways at the first gas station to let Ullis go home and rest. We’re so happy to have this time together, and we say goodbye with the excitement and promise of seeing each other tomorrow.
The rest of the walk is nice, as we were extremely lucky to have perfect weather. We’ve been walking for quite some time now, and I mostly feel bad for Gebba. She’s in her 80s, and is getting tired now as well. We figured, once we have the car, the drive back should make up for this.
We pick up a brand new car, where all the language on the screen is in Arabic- We can’t figure out how to change it. We drive home, and enjoy a nice potato and sausage dinner. We have Pickebröd with this. It looks like mjukbröd, but is dry like a cracker instead of a soft bread. Admittedly, I’m still stuffed from lunch, but I eat as much as I can so as not to be rude to Gebba, who’s been working SO HARD to house us, entertain us, and feed us.
We discuss our plans for the following day, to visit Frösö Kyrken (Frösö Church), along with William Petterson Berger’s house across the street. (Berger’s house is actually closed for the summer, but the outside surrounding nature is worth touring again after all these years). On top of his music that made him famous, Dad tells me that Berger was a gay man, and had an affair with his chef. Berger also had a very short temper, and a special window in his house, so when he had visitors, he would look out to see who was visiting, and could decide if he should open the door or not. What an unpleasant man, but I suppose this is what the patriarchal historians would deem “A Creative Genius”.
After calculating and finalizing our plans for the following day, Dad wants to finally sit down and hear all about my travels to Norway, and meeting our Gudding family for the very first time. It just hits me that after working the weeding, we’ve been traveling so much and so fast, that I haven’t been able to do this yet. Gebba is eager to hear all about it too.
We sit in the living room, as I tell all about their cousins- Ove in particularly whom I have a special connection with. I show them all of the photos on my phone of them, and old pictures of Bjørg’s photo albums of the family. It turns out, that after all this time, they were looking for us too- Apparently their mom, Bjørg, had photos of our family and knew who we were, but because our Farmor and Bjørg were such tight- lipped Northern Scandinavians, no one thought to ask them about the other family- We barely knew the other existed. The information we did have was too little to actually find one another. Foster Gebba and Dad loved all of this, and I know Foster Mona would have loved this too, if she got the chance to sit and listen. With the controlled chaos of the wedding, it was simply impossible. I told everyone I’ll put them in a group chat when I get home so they can catch up properly. Everyone is excited to meet each other, and truly I’m thrilled.
We all sleep happy.
