Mental Health Day

A couple of weeks ago, my one Swedish friend invited me to tag along on a test-run of her new commute. Instead of coming to work at Tjärnö, she'll soon be working at another marine lab about 120 km away. Jeremy and I agreed that the girls could spend the day mostly on their own, and I took the chance to have a day off.

It was a super Swedish day!

The electric car my friend drove was quiet and beautiful and eco-friendly, everything a Swedish person could wish for. We arrived at Kristineberg, a marine research station with a long and distinguished history. It is also helpfully located at the edge of a gorgeous fjord.

While my friend got her work done, I went for a walk. Normally, I'm hesitant to tromp around in nature, but it felt like a waste and an insult not to explore the local scenery. I chose a nearby footpath, not knowing where it led. I marched through tall grasses. Bird song, buzzing insects, and the sound of my own footsteps path were the only sounds.

As I pressed on, I debated whether or not to keep going. I realized that no one in the world knew exactly where I was. When the path turned muddy, it seemed a perfect excuse to turn back. But someone had thoughtfully laid down boards along the path, so I pressed on.

The path finally emerged in a meadow. At the end of the meadow, the sea!

What is it about the water that pulls us toward it like a magnet?

At the water's edge, small stones on the shore gave way to boulders and rocky crags above. Some of the rocks on the ground held shimmering bits that glistened in the sun. Among the rocks lay a thousand tiny shells.

One small, perfect spiral.

I stood on a large rock, yellow with lichen, and peered over the edge into the water. The ocean floor seemed entirely made of rust-colored rocks. The coppery bottom was punctuated with shimmering bits of oyster shell. Greenish-brown seaweeds swayed gently in the current, and a rare, clear jellyfish floated by.

I was so tempted to jump in! Despite knowing the water was beyond cold. Despite my general timidity. Despite having no swimsuit. Or towel. Or spare clothes.

I resisted the urge to soak myself and returned the way I'd came.

For lunch, my friend and I met in the lab's cafeteria. We ate steamed fish and boiled potatoes, covered in a creamy dill sauce. I ate from a plate on top of a tray, as everyone did. Afterwards, I put my silverware, food scraps, glass, plate, and tray in separate racks to be cleaned. It was a typically Swedish meal, eaten in a typically Swedish way.

After lunch, I opted for another walk. The lab is located near the community of Fiskebäckskil, which had the completely adorable population count of 379 souls at last count. Although it looked like a long walk to me (because I'm quite lazy), everyone assured me it was only a short walk and well worth the effort.

View of town, from the lab.

I found a path to follow and walked past a lovely sandy beach. Small naked Swedish children played in the water, while their father watched them from the shore. I found a tiny, private beach which I had all to myself.

Footpath to Fiskebäckskil. (Say that 5 times fast.)

The shoreline on the way to town.

Secret beach.

The town was a maze of steep and narrow cobbled streets. It reminded me of my first impression of Marblehead, the town where we lived in Massachusetts: It was too cute to be a real place, and looked like a movie set called "Quaint Seaside Village".

I think this is the school. I love it.

I found a stylish modern hotel, which stood in stark contrast to the older, traditional homes lining the streets of the village. I drank strong coffee and ate tiny delicious chocolates sitting on their fabulous patio.

I could have eaten a handful of those chocolates.

I literally stopped to smell the roses.

After my caffeine fortification, I clambered up a rocky hillside to an old windmill. Coming back down from the windmill's high perch, I made the poor choice to jump from a rock onto the mossy ground below. Though it was only a short drop, I managed to twist both my ankles landing on the uneven surface.

After saying several swear words and resting for a bit, I got back on my feet and gingerly picked my way back to the road. My ankles, though sore, carried me all the way back to the lab (where I promptly put both feet up and took some pain medicine).

Windmill selfie. Before the fall.

View from the windmill.

Soon enough, it was time to climb back into my friend's car to head home. As an added bonus to my very Swedish day, we dropped one of her colleagues off near the local IKEA on our way back.

I was glad to find that in my absence the girls had needed only minimal supervision from Jeremy. One of the benefits of our time in Sweden has been the amount of independence we've been able to give them. I hope to continue this trend when we're back in San Diego.

Although I was off my feet for the next several days and my ankles still aren't quite right, I'm grateful for a day away from my usual routine. For a day away from mom duties. For a day of wandering and exploring Sweden on my own.