Sweden adventures #10

Friday - leaving Herrang.

I get up at half five and pack up my tent. Ali's still up and comes over to say goodbye again. Lovely guy.

Of course I'm at the bus stop twenty minutes early. I have two apples for breakfast and then it's two buses, the subway, a train, a bus, a ferry, a walk, another ferry, and I'm on my island, Grötö, porridge island. The toilet on the train was the nicest bathroom I've seen in a week. Now to find the hotel. It shouldn't be too hard, there is only one on this island.

I find it, I'm the first to check into my cabin which I'm sharing with friends I know from when I lived in the States. Turns out later that they would have been here already had they not boarded the wrong ferry and as a result ended up spending three hours on boats... I put out my tent to dry and start working on my speech. The speech will reveal the truth about how the happy couple met.

It was spring 2011. I lived in a flat in Princeton with Parween and Sally. Sally lived in the attic, illegally. It was Saturday night and I was going to go to the Princeton University Spring Formal, a party where everyone dresses up nicely. I was going with a Princeton graduate student - my toy boy at the time - and Sally joined us.

When we got there, we first went to a pre-party - the purpose of which was to get drunk quickly and avoid the formal part of the evening, the ballroom dancing. Arriving at the pre-party, Sally pointed out to me that there were only couples, and I looked around and it was true. Apart from that one guy. I said "I think the guy in the top hat over there is single." And the rest is history. I don't remember many details from the party. Sally and the guy in the top hat got drunk, he came home with us, left thirteen hours later, and now they are getting married.

Sweden adventures #9

Thursday at Herrang.

I get up at noon and pick up my laundry. Today is not a good day for drying clothes. I miss breakfast again, so go and have lunch and end up chatting for hours. I have a good meditation session by the lake. I try and get my tent organised for my early departure tomorrow morning.

I run into Jack and Carolin, his German housemate in Herrang, have a chat and then buy bus tickets for my travels, so I won't have to worry about that tomorrow morning.

I run into Ali who has turned out to be my favourite person at camp this year, we have a coffee in the bar. Ali has recently started to play the trombone. He has even brought it along to Herrang. One day here, he decided to practise, so he took his trombone and cycled into the fields for some privacy and to not to disturb anyone. He played for a bit when suddenly three moose appeared out of nowhere - a male with big antlers and two females. I wonder if the trombone playing attracted or offended them.

I stay for the daily meeting but then say goodbye to Ali and go to bed. I'm giving today's party a miss. I don't want to feel terrible tomorrow when I cross Sweden on public transport and meet old friends in the evening.

Sweden adventures #8

Wednesday at Herrang.

I get up early and have breakfast in Heaven's Kitchen, the camp restaurant. Today, there are no morning classes so people have a lie-in and the breakfast room is empty.

I chat with a Swiss guy and then walk over to the lake for meditation practice. Meditation practice gets thwarted by a group of dressed up people clearly aiming for the float in the lake, but too many of them to fit into the one boat left on the shore. They somehow manage. Later, I find out that two of them just got married and are one of two couples this week at Herrang who are spending their honeymoon here.

I make a mask at the mask-making workshop. The theme of tonight's party is masquerade and dressing up is mandatory. My Swiss army knife is very popular at the workshop so I leave it when I'm done.

I get my dancing shoes and get a backie on someone's bike to the blues class. Blues class is fun, and I consider taking a private lesson with the teachers, but then they are too busy and I'm not actually sure what I want to learn. I'm loving the blues class though. It's a beginner's class, and I've been dancing blues for many years. I feel like Monica in the show 'Friends' must have felt when she took a beginners' cooking class even though she was a professional chef. She just really liked being top of the class and getting loads of praise from the teacher.

I'm trying to fulfil today's mission to make it a productive day: Find stamps. The Lindy Hop Shop is closed so I suspend my mission and get a coffee in Bar Bedlam instead. When I try again they are open but don't have stamps. However, I'm right in time for the Herrang Week 5 Group Picture.

I then go to Kuggen, the village store, for stamps and offend the cashier when I say that all the Swedish coins look the same (they really don't). It actually is a productive day: I drop off laundry - my hand washing with regular hand soap wasn't that successful. I also charge my phone.

I take a long nap and go to the daily meeting, then change and dance a bit with a mask on - masquerade night. I go to the blues music jam session, drink wine, have a few more drunken lindy dances and go back to my tent, but on the way stop for a shisha with people I know, and it's half five and proper daylight when I finally go to bed.

Sweden adventures #7

Tuesday at Herrang.

I get up at noon, have breakfast at the Ice Cream Parlour - yoghurt and banana - and hang out here for many hours. I seem to be hosting a salon with various people passing through, staying for a while and then moving on. We discuss the Swing Patrol empire in London, which seems to push other swing dance providers out of the market. We have a Swedish language lesson, and a pop-up shoe repair workshop. At five, I practice some balboa and then have dinner in Bar Bedlam.

I attend the daily meeting and go back to the tent for a nap but don't properly wake up until half three at night. Now I can't be bothered getting up and being all sleepy - even though it would have worked with tonight's theme of the party - Slow Drag.

Sweden adventures #6

Monday in Herrang.


I get up at ten, take a shower and do some laundry in one of the outdoor sinks of the school building, which is at the centre of most accommodation and daytime dancing. I chat with someone who is getting ready for classes, brushing his teeth next to me. I danced with him only a few hours ago.


When I'm done with my laundry it's too late for getting any breakfast around here so I get lunch instead. At the cafe, I chat with a guy about meditation. He plays me some of his own music on his guitar in a back room, and I don't know where to look. It's not that it's bad, but he's so earnest, the situation a bit intimate, and I don't really know what facial expression would be appropriate. He offers to meditate with me but I politely (hopefully) decline and take a nap instead. Later, I see him meditate with someone else on the grass.


I get a coffee and hang out by the Ice Cream Parlour. I meet new people here, and catch up with some I have met earlier. I spend hours here doing nothing much but holding court on the comfy chairs with my company, conversation, and activities continuously changing.


In the evening, I watch the daily meeting in the library, then I join the cinephiles in the red camper cinemateque, the local cinema in a campervan, to watch an old movie. I have a tin of matjes (pickled herring) and some cashews for dinner and get ready for the dance. My friend Jack from Edinburgh was supposed to arrive today, but I haven't yet seen him. I need to find out where tonight's secret blues party is. The laundry?


Turns out there is no blues tonight, but I find Jack and have a drink with him and a staff member from Brazil, who's giving us all the camp gossip. I'm dancing a bit more, but the bebop swing theme doesn't agree with me - the live band is great but doesn't exactly inspire me to dance. I have an early night at half three.

Sweden adventures #5

Sunday.

I see someone distributing posters with information on "secret" blues parties - perfect! Also, tonight's theme is New Orleans Jazz - my favourite music, and great for balboa dancing too.

I'm slowly starting to enjoy the lack of structure to my days. Thanks to earplugs I don't sleep terribly, and when I get up, most people are in their classes and I don't need to queue for a shower. Once covered in insect repellent and sitting with a nice coffee somewhere in the shade, I'm content.

There's nothing to fill my day. If I get too hot I could take a dip in the sea anytime. I read, or nap, or wander the grounds and watch one of the many dance classes, looking out for opportunities to socialise, but happy to just contemplate life on my own.

I walk to the lake and sit there for a while - a beautiful spot.

I browse the Lindy Hop Shop and find a dress that fits, but I can't be quite bothered. I take a nap. I make a cup of coffee - black - and sit down outside the Ice Cream Parlour. Things have changed. Everyone is playing with their smart phones. I don't remember this from four years ago, but maybe that's because then it was me who was distracted by her smart phone. The camp even bans electronic devices from many common areas to encourage a spirit of connecting people. The ban is not working.

Are people afraid of sitting down on their own and feeling socially awkward with nothing to busy their hands with? A lot of people here have come on their own. Herrang is expensive, and when one person can afford to go, their friends may not, or they may have other priorities. I find small talk with strangers exhausting most of the time. But the conditions here are ideal. People here are friendly, we all have the dancing in common, and the camp is quite successful at creating an atmosphere of a happy world where everyone is friends with each other. This is as easy as it gets.

I get a lot of chat later.

I have dinner at Heaven's Kitchen, which is quite expensive, but at least I can eat as many vegetables as I like. After almost three days of snacking, I crave some greens. And chicken. No bread though. I'm thinking of quitting bread for a while.

I watch the daily meeting in the library today, which is more comfortable and less crowded than the ballroom. Afterwards, I take a taster class in ska dancing which is great fun, and for the first time since arriving in Herrang I feel part of the camp.

I freshen up and join the party. In the library, tonight's theme is New Orleans, which is my favourite style of jazz music for dancing, and maybe listening too. It's such a happy music. The room is nicely decorated too. After a slow start I spot a few balboa dancers and we are all relieved to have found each other and can stop doing this lindy nonsense. But alas, the standard is so low!

A few dances remind me of my early balboa days - only that now it's bad leading and not bad following that's the problem. There is one good dancer, but he looks like he is having the worst time throughout our dance. I'd rather dance with a clothes horse than with that person again. Then, there is this guy who almost rips my arm out.

I have one nice dance with a German guy before leaving to check out the secret blues party in the Russian Kitchen, a disgusting self-catering kitchen for the campers. All I can face doing here is boiling water, using my own mug for tea. I spend most of the night here and have some lovely blues dances and chats. I have some of my box wine, which is improving my blues dancing.

To finish the night I walk over to the ballroom. It's daylight already, roughly 4 am. I have some great dances with someone who promises me to dance lindy in the style of balboa - and it works! Or maybe it's the box wine working its magic.

Sweden adventures #4

Saturday.

It's change-over day in Herrang. Most people are leaving today, and new people are arriving to take part in week five. It is hot, and I walk to the beach for a bit. There are only a few people here, and it's nice and quiet compared to the camp area.

I walk back to the camp, hang out in front of the Ice Cream Parlour, and make new friends. Exhausted from this, I go back to my tent, read, take a nap, and start getting ready for the evening.

Some heavy showers are passing through. I check my tent but it's holding up ok. My new fancy mat is quite large, and it will be difficult to orient it in the tent so that neither head nor feet will touch the tent skin.

Every night at Herrang, there is a daily meeting. This is part entertainment with dancing and singing performances, part education with historic film clips from old dance movies and interviews and discussions with some of the original dancers from that time who get invited to Herrang every year, and part administrative announcements. People start queueing for this meeting half an hour before it starts so they'll get good seats. Not everyone fits into the ballroom where it is shown, so it gets live broadcasted to other areas: the bar, the dance barn, and the library.

I see someone at the meeting I met four years ago, and haven't seen since. Florian and I have a mutual acquaintance in Berlin, so I have heard of him occasionally. In fact, this was him: *click*.

After the daily meeting, I go back to my tent, have some snacks and put on some make up to make up for not putting any effort into what I'm wearing. I slept in these clothes last night.

At the dance, I am very pleased to find a dance floor where they are playing blues music. However, the main event certainly is lindy hop. I stopped taking lindy classes years ago when I became more interested in balboa and blues. I'd describe my lindy as solid and uninspired, my blues as awkward and variable, and my balboa as carefree and relaxed.

I'm quite awake at 2 am in the morning, not having done anything all day. I'm on the look-out for other balboa dancers but the music isn't really suitable for balboa anyway. I leave at 3.30 am, it's already getting light outside.

Sweden adventures #3

At Herräng dance camp. Friday late afternoon.

I have successfully negotiated my bus-plane-train-bus-bus trip. Everything worked out perfectly, and it looks like I get to pitch my tent in bright sunshine. I even succeeded in getting some cash - not enough, but some. Herräng is a tiny village, the next cash machine is seven miles away.

I bought some groceries in the next town earlier today before boarding the final bus. And a box of wine. There's only one small grocery store in this village, and it has been known for its empty shelves.

When my bus arrived in Herrang I just followed a French couple with big packs. They looked like dancers and seemed to know where they were going. Four years is a long time, but eventually my memory of the place has come back to me.

I pitch my tent after finding an ok spot. All spots in the central area will be super noisy, so I pick one which is not in the sun all day. I chat a bit with my tent neighbour, but that's it for social interactions today. I go to bed for a nap and fall properly asleep, and when I wake up it's 1 AM - perfect dance time in Herrang, but I just can't be bothered.

Sweden adventures #2

At Edinburgh airport.

My pack is packed beautifully. I put a foam mat inside, around all my other stuff. This gives it a nice cylindrical shape without any bulges and dents, and it's also protecting my stuff. My pack is 12 kg. This makes me want to go on a long walk.

I haven't travelled with hold luggage in years - four years in fact. I'm not enjoying the queuing, I much prefer to travel light. But once I'm rid of my pack it is actually quite nice to zip through security without negotiating liquids and electronic devices.

An American talks to me. He's friendly but he looks like he isn't and could turn aggressive any minute. One of those faces.

My plane is full of Swedish hunks.

Sweden adventures #1

Here comes the first part of my travel notes from my recent holiday in Sweden.

I'm embarking on a very similar - if more compressed - trip as I did four years ago. Then, I travelled from Glasgow to Stockholm, spending a few nights there (*click*) before I went to the famous Herräng dance camp (*click*), and then on to Grötö, Porridge Island, a tiny island off the coast near Gothenburg. My friend Leo's family has a summer house there, where I visited him and my other friend and former flatmate Sally, who had been on holiday there. And this is where the two of them are getting married in a few days.

Then, I was on an eight months long trip around the world. I had a lot of time on my hands. Now, I feel like I'm abandoning my boss at work during the busiest time of the year. So I'm only taking nine days off, two and a half of which I'm going to spend on crossing Sweden to get to my multiple destinations quickly - using public transport.

What else has changed since 2012?

• I have a new boyfriend
• I have no acne anymore
• I have some grey hair and lines
• I have a home and a job
• I'm much happier with my dancing skills, but less keen to use them

Good morning!

Swedish wedding

A cheerful and tearful occasion - weddings always make me cry, but Swedish ones are the worst! All those thoughtful and moving toasts from friends and family - many of whom I knew from my time in the States where I had introduced the bride to the groom. Seeing them again, getting married! Seeing a lot of old friends again! They are all such good people and I miss them a lot.

Swedish holidays

I was away in Sweden for a while at a dance camp and a wedding, and I will report in detail soon. And I missed Scotland! When coming home late at night my plane landed in pouring rain, and the rain also poured into the buses that were waiting to take us to the terminal. Lovely. I was cold and tired, I missed the last local bus and took a taxi home. Halfway there, I realised that it was just after midnight and that it was my birthday. Having no one else to tell I told the driver. He said happy birthday and said he was a leo too. That was sweet and a little pathetic too.

So, here's to everyone who thought of me (without the help of Facebook!): well done and thank you, especially for cards and messages! And to everyone else: try again next year! (I probably forgot yours as well...)

Probation passed

I am now a proper Civil Servant, unfireable, invincible, ready to change the world, undermine the system, tell certain people in my organisation what I think of them, and planning my next career break.

My end-of-probation review was a nice chat, very flattering, full of praise etc. Listening in to my boss and me during a very heated discussion only one hour later, you wouldn't believe a word from his favourable review report to HR.

In my job, it's normal to rotate posts every two or three years. In between posts I now see space for travel and projects. What should I do? Bolivia and Chile? Programming boot camp? A road trip in a Tesla car on autopilot across Canada? India??? Walk the Pacific Crest Trail?

A new bike for £96!

Twice a year I take my bike to the service, because I found this shop that I quite like, and they are doing a much better job much more quickly than I could.

Inspired and encouraged by my friend Kat who for a while had a 90 minute commute each way by bike (in Britain!) I cycle on average a hundred kilometres per week, mainly through my own commute, so my bike parts wear quickly.

At my last service, more parts of my bike were replaced than remained and I ended up with a new bike that was still dirty enough to not attract thieves, but it's fast and the brakes brake beautifully!

Harrassed!

I spent a night in a jazz bar with friends, chatting and drinking, and not really listening to the music, when a guy touched my hip repeatedly, intentionally and knowingly against my wish. He followed me around the room so it was clear that this was no accident, and I started to shout at him to stop touching me. I deliberately made a scene to draw attention and show him that he couldn't get away with it. I was feeling quite brave, being tipsy, and having my friend Jack with me.

He shrunk back from me but didn't say anything, and his pal was very apologetic and angry at his friend which made me think that this might have happened before. I kept shouting for a bit and suggested they leave, but when his pal said that they had just got drinks and if it would be ok if they left after finishing the drinks, I said fine.

My other friend Calum came over and asked what the commotion was, and when I told him he went off and told the bouncer - even though I didn't want to make a fuss. I didn't really know how to feel about this. I grew up quite sheltered and have never been in a similar situation - verbal abuse or sexism, yes, but never actual sexual harassment! I wasn't scared - rather the opposite, I almost enjoyed shouting at that poor guy!

My friends asked if I wanted to take this further, but I thought that was disproportionate, especially since the guy was so taken aback when I shouted at him. For some twisted reason I didn't want to get him into trouble, and I think the fact that he wasn't white also played a role - I did think about racism in the police. But my main reason was that I didn't want the hassle of talking to the police this late at night in my tipsy state.

I was wondering though if I was letting other women down by not reporting the incident. Calum said it was absolutely up to me, and the three of us left soon after. We cycled together for a bit, and then stopped for chips, only that the chippy was closing up and we had potato fritters in a bun with ketchup instead, which was quite disgusting, but preferable to the only other option, a haggis pie in a bun, and actually quite nice. Sitting by the canal in the dark in the middle of the night eating greasy food was brilliant.

And then Calum's phone went. The jazz bar bouncer called - he had a police officer there who wanted to ask Calum a few questions about the incident. At 2.30 in the morning. I shook my head at Calum while he answered the questions. No, he didn't see the incident himself. No, he didn't know my last name. I was quite grateful. To him, for reporting it in the first place, but then letting me decide what to do or not to do, and to the jazz bar staff for taking this seriously.

Looking back (through the alcoholic mist...), it seems quite silly. That guy's touching my hip had more the quality of playing tag rather than anything seedy. But if I hadn't been with my friends and if the staff hadn't reacted as supportively, I might have felt very differently about the incident.

When I talked to my friend Nat about this the following night she said that these things happened all the time in some other bars and that the staff there wouldn't do anything. I wouldn't go to such a place! In fact, I was having this conversation with her in the same jazz bar, because I can trust that such behaviour isn't tolerated there. But the discussion must have left an impression. That night, I dreamed of being followed and threatened by a young, skinny, crazy guy with a knife - a Swiss army knife, would you believe it - and I woke up from shouting for help.

Oh well, Schwamm drüber as we say in Germany. I'm just not a pepper spray kind of girl.

Cobbler

I took some shoes to the cobbler to extend their lifetime a bit, but oh boy was that cobbler scary! This wasn't the experience I had had in mind at all!

The shop looked old-fashioned and no-nonsense from the outside, and not one of these chain stores that double up as key cutting services. It actually has an old wooden sign above the door saying "Gorgie Cobblers", how quaint! But instead of a frail old man with glasses and little hair, a tattooed brute "welcomed" me and refused to do any of the things to my shoes that I had in mind. In fact, I'm not actually sure what it is he is going to do - I was too scared to ask too many questions, let alone take my business elsewhere.

At some point during our short exchange he said to me "this is the heel." when I referred to the part in question as "the back bit of the sole". And he seemed furious about having to explain the correct term to me, or maybe he thought I wasn't taking his profession seriously. I certainly am now!

Heatwave!

The temperature outside has reached 24°C and it feels just like a few weeks ago in Athens at 40°C. Too hot. I couldn't find my shorts. I must have got rid of them since the last summer which was three years ago. I feel taken back to that time, my first summer in Scotland, when my impression of Scottish summers got seriously skewed.

But how lucky am I to have taken this week off work?! It's the Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival again, and I'm volunteering, going to gigs, hanging out with the musicians. Highlights so far were catching up with the other volunteers and staff, many of whom I hadn't seen in a year. Wandering from venue to venue, never knowing who I would run into. Announcing the bands to thousands of people at the free open-air event. Of course hanging out backstage with the musicians - so cool, I'm still getting star struck all the time. An amazing drum solo by EST's Magnus Ostrom, which might have been two, five or ten minutes long, I couldn't tell, but I wouldn't have minded if it had gone on for much longer - it was so good. Seeing him in his underpants before the gig. Cycling home at night in a T-shirt - no jumper needed! The discounts on drinks in the festival venues. All this music, all this skill!

Good times.

Pentlands once more

I hadn't been to the Pentlands in a few months, so it was high time to rectify this and blog about a Pentlands walk for the seventh time!

I met up with my man in Bonaly, where I had walked and he had taken the bus. For me, walking a few miles to get there was slightly faster than the bus, less hassle, and also quite nice. The walk took me through a former railway tunnel which is now part of the Water of Leith cycle path. The walls were covered in an interesting mix of graffiti and lichen.

We headed for the hills, meeting a bunch of sweaty soldiers on the way, who were running with heavy packs and big automatic guns in their arms. Shouldn't common sense around running with scissors also apply to guns? Those that weren't out of breath greeted us politely. Cheerful soldiers!

We then climbed higher and I couldn't wait to tell my man to turn around - because suddenly, this amazing view over Edinburgh opens up. He responded to it sufficiently pleased, and I rewarded him with a long break and a cup of tea. The secret to getting people into hillwalking is breaks and snacks. Lots of snacks.

After the initial climb the walking was fairly easy for a few miles along the Glencorse and Loganlea Reservoirs. Then, we had to climb a bealach to get up to the first of a couple of hills we were going to cross before descending to the pub, the Flotterstone Inn. The climb was fairly steep and I'm not sure how much my man enjoyed this bit, but a family with four young kids were ahead of us and made it seem easy. Only their little girl wasn't having all that much fun - she reminded me of myself when I was little and taken hillwalking against my will.

Over the hills and down again was great walking, and busy too - lots of other walkers, usually in pairs, and runners, usually alone. We finished at the pub with a nice coffee and then took the bus home.

The route, starting at my house at the top, finishing at the pub

Walk profile

Colinton railway tunnel

Low clouds over the Pentlands

 Big pack for all the snacks!

Edinburgh of the South

Work sent me to Athens a few weeks ago. I was accompanied by my boss, and we had a few meetings with members of the Greek government, the European Commission and academia. These meetings were slightly bizarre and much more political than I am used to in my day job, but I won't go into details here.

That week, Athens had unseasonally hot weather. But while I generally prefer my summers Scottish, I do enjoy going out at night in a hot country. I spent a few lovely evenings eating out with my boss with various views of the Acropolis by night.

Athens is also known as the Edinburgh of the South. The main feature of its skyline, the Parthenon on the Acropolis, looks just like the Scottish National Monument on Calton Hill.

We got a flavour of the social unrest troubling Greece these days. Demonstrations happen on a daily basis, and no one seems to know much about the different groupings demonstrating, who they are and what exactly they want. The military presence on Syntagma Square was quite disconcerting. I can't help but wonder if this is what awaits the UK if they don't get their shit together very soon.

Here are a few pictures, but really it was too hot to take photos.

Plato in the Academy of Athens

The guards in front of the parliament.

Imagine holding this pose at 40 degrees!

Loved the shoes.

Military getting ready for the nightly demonstrations at the parliament on Syntagma Square

Too hot to climb the Acropolis, so I explored Athens' "Traditional Plottery"

Dinner on Friday night, boss and I shared a litre of wine.

View at dinner