I so enjoy listening to the Nordic languages. Though I didn’t grow up with the opportunity to hear my great-grandparents speaking in their native tongue, it just feels like home: the way words are held in the mouth and gently rolled about, the sing-song prosodic rise and fall of speech lending itself to the clucking of a doting grandmother.

The grand privilege of being able to tread the soil of my heritage has not gone beyond my notice. ❤️🇸🇯🇸🇪🇩🇰

FRIDAY, July 14
On our 600 km bus ride from Oslo to Stockholm, we alternated between scenes of the north shore of Lake Superior, the forests of Michigan’s upper peninsula, the rolling farm fields of northern Wisconsin, and the marshes of Ashland county. Julie and I felt right at home among the birch and pine forests with lily-pad lined ponds as we counted deer in the rye fields and smiled at the bobbing fireweed lining the roadsides.

SABBATH, July 15
Today began with some sweat on the treadmill as I worked my wiggles out (I stopped at the WC first thing – I’m learning), followed by sink laundry and a shower before breakfast.
Our group cobbled together an informal church service in a hotel conference room: communal hymn singing of Swedish and Norwegian tunes, prayer readings, and immersive story-telling by Dr. Brian Strayer. His penultimate story was met with a unanimous cry of, “Don’t stop!” so captivating was his story-spinning prowess.

We set off into the warm Swedish summer sunshine, cheered by blue skies and wispy cirrus clouds far overhead.

“WATCH OUT!”: the communal and repeated cry as our large group inevitably strung out into a murmuration which blocked multiple crosswalks in succession. Bells dinged, buzzers beeped, riders grunted – these Americans narrowly avoided death by scooters (or their riders) in the bike lane on multiple occasions.

First stop: the Royal Palace for the changing of the guard. We were treated to over an hour of goose stepping, flag flapping, band marching pomp & circumstance. Jess’ favorite part: the female platoon leader with a SWORD. I guess I’m moving to Sweden to join the military.

The herd was released to their own devices for procuring lunch prior to our planned afternoon activities. Armed with Google Maps and walking shoes, Julie and I set off in search of a WC. We found a shrunken Quonset hut encrusted in green tiles, boasting toaletten available by credit card. Not the cleanest Swedish restroom we’ve encountered, but it did the job. We meandered back to the marina rendezvous point and joined our group of constantly counted 33 — God bless those who are in charge of wrangling us.
The rest of the afternoon was spent on a boat tour of the Stockholm archipelago: 14 islands joined by a web of connected waterways. A large percentage of the touted 1 million registered boats in the city joined us on the water for a picture-perfect blue sky day.

The fulfilling day was capped by a wonderful dinner (roasted beets, baked pasta dish, chocolate and raspberry dessert), the delight of which was superceded only by the rich conversation shared with tablemates. Strangers are becoming friends on this wonderful journey.