Yes, it's Juliet! Amazing the stuff you remember from high school English classes, isn't it? Anyway, I'm not thinking of Shakespeare's play at the moment, even though it is quite topical with TWO productions beginning in Stockholm this week. The beautiful Juliet I'm thinking about is the one we saw here in Nynäshamn last year.

My intrepid husband has just discovered that she is available for charter, complete with her crew (including a chef). I looked at the website, drooled over the specs and pictures (check out that marble bathroom, will you!), but failed to find a price. I suppose it is the age old notion that if you have to ask, then you obviously can't afford it. Which is so true in this case, but wow, what a gorgeous boat. Of course, the only reason I'm not going to email and enquire is that pets are not allowed onboard. We can't possibly dream of sailing sans Lambi, Bruce and Sheila, so like Romeo, our Juliet dream will never be consummated.

On the subject of bathrooms, our renovations have begun and we will be living onboard the boat rather than at the building site. The builders have been great so far, but there is mess, power cuts, water cuts, dust, noise and all the other annoying things that come with a major renovation of all 35 apartments in our building. We have the painters due in our apartment on Thursday to do all of the window frames (they need two weeks), then there will be drilling through our clothes storage room for new piping and in late November/early December (builder's estimate - my guess is to add AT LEAST a month to that!) we will have a brand new bathroom and in January they'll do the kitchen. I don't know why there is a delay, but I'm not complaining.

We went out and looked at tiles and fittings and managed to agree without any bloodshed. Who'd've thunk it? I won't post pictures or even tell you the colour. You'll have to wait until they are on the wall and floors in our bathroom, but we are both really happy. We had already decided to ditch the bathtub and opt for a shower only. But the cubicles they offered sucked big time - tacky patterned frosted glass and so small that even Kate Moss would have to breathe in to step inside. The alternative was somewhat bigger but with a shower curtain to billow then wrap itself around you. Nope. Not this little black duck. So we've decided to have a clear glass wall built the length of the bathroom with a sliding door in the middle. This should be a huge shower and as it is a small bathroom, it will look more spacious with this solution.

The golden autumn light still continues to stun and delight.



Have I mentioned that I Love Autumn!


I know, I know. Could I blog anymore about Autumn? Well, yes I could. And I probably will. It's just such a wonderful time of the year. It makes me very happy and joyful. Plus it's a great time to find the extraordinary in the ordinary, isn't it? The colours. The fresh air. The clear skies. A time to forget all that small stuff and go out celebrate life.

And on that note, I may not be around for a few days - work to do plus we hope to sail away for the weekend while the painters do their thing.

It is a golden late September day; last night I smelled for the first time this year the distant savour of frost. It is still far away in Norrland, but heading steadily southwards following the flight of the swallows and before it pushing nights of jewel-bright sharpness and days of astonishing radiance. On those days, the sky is a dazzling blue in contrast to the soft, almost mysterious gold yellows and flame reds of the leaves and the grass is still green, a green that is deeper now than at any other time of the year. I am still not used to the reversal of the seasonal colour schemes here in the northern hemisphere. Here it is spring that has frail, yellow hues and summer is full of a dusty density. I suppose I'll get used to it.

It is so quiet in the forest at this time of the year. Not silent, but instead a gentle rustly quiet, except when the wind blows. The trees make noise in the wind, like the rustling of paper, and when the leaves move the birds move with them; crows and doves and gulls taking flight, spreading their wings against the sky.



The last few days have been shrouded in mist and fog and it has been strange to walk along and sense the shapes ahead, then see them emerge as people, trees, cars - even the morning train came gliding out of the silvery veil of mist in a surreal sort atmosphere of mystery reminiscent of Dr Zhivago or Oriental Express. The mist really does give the scene a special charm. But it is the leaves that I really love. The dark yellows come first followed by the reds, then the browns and oranges and soon the trees will look like a forest fire, with all those burning colours set against the greyish morning skies of October.



I really love this time of the year and I rejoice in the new season. I feel energised and more alive in autumn. We have been occupied this week with making plans for trips to galleries and markets, seeing friends, visiting family and socialising. It is a busy time for both of us, but at the same time it's wonderful to feel a desire to get things done, to start new projects and complete old ones, to write, create, and just live.

But I still continue to put my foot in it with the Swedish language, causing my husband a lot of laughter and a wealth of teasing material. You would think that I had learned my lesson with the whole fish episode earlier this year, wouldn't you? But obviously I'm a glutton for punishment.

This time I was lazing in bed early in the morning, waiting for the weather report. Here, the radio weather is before the 6.00am news, so the radio was on a little early and a woman was rabbitting on about a play that is opening in Stockholm shortly. I was not really listening as I was reading a book at the time, just waiting for the magic words väder rapport. So, in my barely awake brain, I swore that she said that the play was about "a tiger that came to Stockholm and he didn't have enough money to buy a hamburger". All this is in Swedish, by the way. I know, I know - I should have kept my mouth shut, consulted my Swedish/English dictionary while I made breakfast and saved myself a lot of humiliation, but I was still not fully conscious. So, I turned to Lars-Göran and said, Did she really say that a tiger didn't have the money to buy a hamburger in Stockholm?

*sigh*

When he finished laughing, he told me that tiggare meant beggar, as distinct from tiger, (which in my defense is pronounced "tigger") means tiger. And he is still getting far too much mileage from that slip-up.

Damn. I hate not having the upper hand.

Yesterday I finally got a taste of what it was like to be Superman. No, I didn't prance around Nynäshamn in tights and cape and wearing my undies on the outside of my clothes. I'm saving that for Halloween. But I did get a haircut.

I know, I know. You are all about to press Email Marie and tell her that I'm confusing heroes and I really meant Sampson. But bear with me a minute or two.

On the way home in the evening, I popped into the supermarket to pick up icecream for my little icecream-a-holics. While I was there, I ran into an aquaintance and said a cheery Swedish "Hej!" to her. She turned and glanced at me, then frowned and gave me her best "Piss off. I don't know you" look that is the usual greeting one gives unknown people in this country. Then I saw the slow dawning of recognition overtake her face and she changed immediately to a welcoming smile and a warm greeting, followed by the explanation that she didn't recognise me because I'd had my hair cut.

Let's get this into some kind of perspective here. My hair is thin, blonde, dead straight and I wear it in a bob (or page style as they call it here). I got about 8cm cut off the length. That's it. I didn't suddenly change the colour and style to this:



Nor was I tempted to get a poodle perm (sorry, Lambi). Just a few measly inches off the length. And I used to think how fake it was that no-one cottoned on that Superman was really Clark Kent minus the Nana Mouskouri-style specs.



(Did you check out the intense stare they both have? I'm still cracking up over that. Where are the little men in white coats when you need them?)

Lars-Göran and I literally had tears of laughter running down our faces when we listen to Mastering Swedish - Lesson 1. For any of you out there who are trying to learn Swedish (or another language) or those of you that have crossed that particular hurdle, I'm sure you'll get a laugh out of it.

It is all part of Slay Radio's Crash course in Swedish, which has four hilarious lessons. You can even contribute suggestions for future lessons.

Priceless!

The temperatures have done an about face and this morning when I looked at the outside thermometer at 6.00am, it was 14.7C, quite a change from Saturday's 4C at the same time. And as an added bonus, it is sunny as well. Our thinking is that these warm days will be few and far between from now onwards so we took advantage of the day to haul Fiona out of the water and check out her hull and see how our epoxy work was holding up. So just after brekkie, we took off and sailed from the pier around to the boat club.



Lars-Göran picked up the mobile crane, drove it down to the pier and with me holding on to the ropes, we raised her out of the water.



We were really surprised to see that there was almost no barnacle growth on the hull. We usually raise her twice a year to clean her and there are always patches of shells on the hull, but not this time.



The hull was smooth and looked good with no sign of the tell-tale bubbles that signify the onset of osmosis. Hopefully we have fixed that problem. So it was out with the high pressure cleaner and in a very short time, the hull was washed and Fiona was back in the water. How great to be able to do this on a warm day. I feel sorry for the poor sods who have to do this in the freezing cold. There are some advantages to being able to drive the crane.



After her wash, we took her back out past Nynäshavsbad and after doing a quick snoop around the guest harbour (nothing interesting there) we took her back to her pier spot by Smörpundet. It was still sunny, bright and warm.



We've checked out the forecast and later in the week looks good for sailing again. We have social engagements this week and a party on Sunday, but will try and squeeze in at least a day out on Saturday.

Meantime, I think my sofa and bottle of red is calling out my name.

Weekends are the time we get to do what we choose, to relax, to forget about work and study, to check out the neighbourhood or just chill out. Despite the fact that it is brass monkey weather today and that we have just come back from nine weeks out sailing, what do you think we did?

Yes, despite the promise that we'd stay on land, after only a few days we are back out on the water, but this time just for a bit of day sailing. By the time we tied up at the pier just after 6.30pm we had travelled nearly 30NM - so much for the promise of a quick sail and an afternoon lazing in a bay.

We set off from the pier with a stiff breeze pushing us along Gårdsfjärden and past the sailing club. As it is Saturday, the kids are out in their small boats for sailing lessons.



It is sunny with gorgeous blue skies, but don't be fooled, even though Lars-Göran is sporting the sunnies. It is piercingly cold and even the Viking himself has to wear the winter wooly beanie, long-sleeved druggie shirt (for the non-Australians, a druggie shirt is a long flannelette checked shirt), jumper, fleece jacket AND windproof sailing jacket.

Why do we do this?



We were not the only ones out today, with the horizon dotted with sails which surprised us somewhat as often people forget about their boats once the season is over. But where to go for the day? It's funny that you never really check out places close to home, you sort of take them for granted, put it on the back-burner and think that "we can do this anytime" and head out for places further away, thinking you can check out the home waters some other time.

So we felt we could finally sail to nearby Gunnarsstenarna, which is only 5NM away and a place where we have never been before. When we pass by the area we are often on our way to somewhere else or on our way home so we see the islands in the distance but think we'll take a look "next time". Today was that next time. The name means "Gunnar's Rocks" and at one time they were important fishing grounds and later an important military outpost, but these days it is a bird sanctuary and inaccessible for several months of the year. The island group consists of half a dozen low, bare rocks and a small lighthouse.



Somehow I always thought there would be more, but at least we now know what is there. Had it been more than nine degrees outside we might have anchored and looked around, but by now we were feeling a tad cold, so we turned northwards and set off to anchor in the bay at the north of Nåttarö where we ate a warm lunch - vegetable and noodle soup with bread and cheese. I really needed that. We had hoped to simply tie up to one of the two piers there, but despite the cold, both piers were full of sailing boats. Is everyone here insane?

The trees here are just starting to turn gold and it is always good to see these places in any season as they have a quite different character from month to month.



Autumn really feels as though it is just round the corner. Given that Wednesday is the Equinox and the full moon is in the sky this seems to be about right.

I love this time of the year, it has the same resonance as spring for me, a time of expectancy, promise and also of beginnings and endings. The light grows in its dimness as silence and stillness begins to envelop the earth. It is moment when there is more than usual reason to stop and listen, look and wait.

The last couple of days of our sailing trip flew by in a flash. It was considerably colder than it has been, so we felt some pity for the feathered members of our crew and opted to go directly home, covering the last 85NM with only a single stop around the Nyköping area. There is the tail end of a tropical hurricane (Maria) heading this way and we'd like to be home before the rain and gales hit.

We did beat the storm home and everyone was happy to be back in the apartment. Though not so happy when we discovered that the painters had not been as we had hoped and that all the preparation was for nothing. Well, that's not quite true as they are apparently now coming during the first week of October (maybe...), but we were hoping to not be here when they were.

There are signs of autumn being here with these little critters busily stocking up



I so love watching the squirrels, but Lars-Göran is pretty non-plussed by them. I get excited when I see the minks playing out in the archipelago and when I see moose by the water, but Lars-Göran just goes "Hmm...yeah...whatever". I guess I can understand it as they are common animals here whereas I see them as being so exotic. I used to feel the same way when we had overseas visitors come to Australia and say they wanted to see kangaroos and koalas and I'd secretly roll my eyes and think "Oh God, no. Do we have to?"

The birch leaves are starting to turn golden yellow and drop to the ground, but I'm careful to keep that to myself as Lars-Göran becomes depressed at the thought of the end of summer. Unlike him, I like the cool months and even cope quite well with the darkness. His theory is that I have had so much sunshine in my life that my internal "sun batteries" are full and I can do without it for a few months without feeling the effects. Sounds like another of his crackpot theories if you ask me.

I think we will have to plan a few sailing trips over the autumn and winter months to break up the long, dark months for him.

But for the moment we are enjoying being on dry land and snuggling up on the couch with a plate of cheese and biccies - and a glass of red wine.

Cheers!

I forgot to mention that a couple of days ago we passed one of the boats that we "met" on the internet - the British sailing boat Kissen. I had found their blog earlier in the year and while they are moored further south in Loftahammar, it appears that we sail in roughly the same waters, so we had emailed one another to see if we could meet up when they were around in Nynäshamn. As it turned out, we were not there when they were and I thought we'd not see them this summer. I enjoy reading their blog, as does Lars-Göran as it is always interesting to hear what others think of sailing in Swedish waters. And he is a Brit, so he writes with that wonderful dry humour that appeals to me as well.

Anyway, we passed out on the route several nautical miles north of Loftahammar. We were sailing at good speed north towards Arkö and they were powering south towards their home harbour, so we were ships passing in the night (except that it was 11 in the morning...) Still, we waved and shouted a message. Perhaps we can arrange something more concrete next year.

We also had a close encounter with royalty today in the form of Kejsaren (The Emperor). And here he is, complete with crown on his head:



This is a well known sea marker west of the island of Aspöja. I laughed so much the first time I spotted it, complete with its glittering, gold crown. I don't know how it got its name or headwear, but there is a sign attached to it which reads:



This warns that those who damage or steal the crown will be forever cursed. Despite the dire warning, I was still amazed that it hadn't been souvenired by some light fingered sailor. Lars-Göran had to quip that Swedes were not thieves unlike people from some other country, who we all knew were descendents from convicts.

He doesn't want to live long, does he?

Today we are heading more homewards again. We left Påskallavik in the afternoon thinking we'd moor at Oskarshamn for the evening, but the winds were so good that we flew past there in an hour, so we continued on through the archipelago, deciding that we'd stop and take a look at the small town of Figeholm, a few kilometres north of Oskarshamn. One of the reasons we were curious about the town was that our friends Bosse and Ann purchased their boat, Tintomara II from here.

The sea entrance to this area is fascinating as it's the beginning of the archipelago and the small islands make a tremendous impression. Figeholm has a small, friendly harbour where we tied up Fiona to a bouy and went into town and looked around. And yes, they also have a Konsum, so Lars-Göran could buy ice-cream. As with many other small towns we visited this trip, Figeholm used to be a busy, thriving harbour town with timber and shipping dominating the economy until after World War 1 when it gradually died away and today it is a pretty, but sleepy backwater of 1,000 people.



We visited the local folk museum and looked at objects from the more booming times here in the nineteenth century when it was a big shipbuilding town with a much larger harbour and population. Today there is something of an air of neglect about the place. When we looked at the main square, it was overgrown with weeds and it looked as though the local council had forgotten it existed. Which is sad to see.

When we left Figeholm, we kept making plans to stop in one or other place for a few days, but the winds were so good that we wanted to sail and spent days doing around 30NM at a time, quickly covering the ground between here and St Anna's archipelago. The other consideration was that we wanted to get the birds home safely as the weather has suddenly turned very chilly. While it is still clear and sunny, the mornings are very cold and short of running the heater all night, we are worried about keeping the boat warm enough for Bruce and Sheila. They are native to the Australian desert and while they have adapted very well to sailing around the Baltic, they don't like the cold. This morning it was only 12C inside the boat with a forecast tomorrow of 5C in the morning. Far too chilly for my little feathered darlings.

We thought about staying near Harstena again, but as they are forecasting strong winds tonight and it can be a little exposed there, we decided to try a new place instead and it turned out to be a great find for us. The islands of Håskö and Lisselön lie a couple of nautical miles west of Harstena and we could see from the chart that between them lay a protected, deep "lake" that we could anchor in and be safe from all winds.

But what a surprise to find so much more there!

We thought that there would be almost no-one out sailing at this time of the year, and that we'd be alone here on this tiny island. But it seems that this place is well known among travellers and we saw that there was even a guest pier here where several boats were moored. If you enlarge the picture, you can even see that there is a sauna and hot tub on the pier. No wonder there were so many boats here.



We lay outside in the bay and in the morning we took the dinghy and rowed ashore to see what was on the island. It is apparently privately owned, but the owner has decided to make a living from a variety of sources. He runs a farm, with several well-fed cows ambling around.....



In addition, he has a small scale fish farm set up in the bay, the guest pier where you can moor for only 30kr, the sauna and hot tub that one can hire out. When we went for a walk, we saw small, newly built cottages that one could hire and there is even a small kiosk that has fresh and smoked fish from his own fish farm, some very basic household supplies - and essentials like ice-cream. I was so surprised to see such entrepreneurial initiative, but I could see that it allowed him to still live on the island and make some money.

All around the island, though there were reminders of the older times when this was strictly farmland - things like this very old barn, roughly hewn from the trees on the island. I don't imagine that it would pass building inspection these days, but it has stood the test of time anyway.



From the hill above the guest harbour you could look back on the farmhouse, kiosk and see Fiona anchored out in the flad. The other boats are hidden from view in this shot, but are lying close to the buildings on the right.



The people who used to live on the island centuries ago made their living by fishing, farming and by acting as pilots. One of the more famous of them in the sixteenth century was "Hasse i Håska" who helped pilot King Gustav Vasa's ship through these stone-filled trecherous waters. One needed local knowledge to come through here safely, which is why these local guides were so highly prized. Very often this skill was passed from father to son and there are generations of families who guided boats for a living.

We went for a long walk all around, through the woods, up the hills and along the fragrant meadows. While it was a cold morning, the day is bright and sunny and everything still looks green and fresh.



It was a beautiful, well kept place with lots of open pastures, woods full of berries and more mushrooms than I've ever seen in my life (yum!) and such a great view of rolling fields down to the glittering water. It is good to know that this is still a living island. So many of these small landholders have abandonned their islands as they can't eke out a viable living. But this owner seems to have found a way - and good luck to him.



The evening sky darkens and a look at the clouds foretell that there will be a northerly gale overnight. It feels good to be safely moored, though the strong north winds bring an unwelcome chill straight from the north pole to here.



It seems we are in a race against time to get the birdies home if this cold continues. They seem happy enough, but each day is getting shorter, the sun is not as warming as it was even a week ago and we also feel that we are ready to snuggle up in a warm apartment as the autumn winds sweep in.

Wimps, aren't we?

What a magnificent, sunny day! With a forecast temperature of around 25C, it really does feel like summer again and I know that we are very fortunate to be able to spend this time out on the water. The wind is brilliant today as well - enough to keep us coasting along at 6 knots with only the foresail raised and we had a marvellous crossing of Kalmarsund, sipping coffee, munching on ANZAC biscuits, and playing Eric Clapton on the stereo. Does it get better than this?

Our route today takes us right past the paper mill, so we can get a closer look at it. And it is every bit as ugly as I thought it would be.



We were also "lucky" that the wind was blowing our way, too. Hmmm... nothing like the smell of lye first thing in the morning. I don't know how people who live nearby can stand the smell. We were only passing by, but I thought I was going to be sick as it was so revolting. Lars-Göran thought you could get used to it, but I'm not convinced of that.

We followed the inner route past the mill and along the marked channel behind the islands. It was very different to sailing out in Kalmarsund, much less wavy which pleased the dog, but we found the landscape, consisting mostly of pine trees a bit monotonous. Still, if you never give it a try, you'll never know.

The purpose of this trip is to go to places we haven't been before, so we decided to moor at the small town of Påskallavik, about 12 kilometres south of Oskarshamn. As it is going to be a glorious day tomorrow, we are hoping to stay here and look around while our washing dries. Lars-Göran has read that they have a Konsum shop, so his mouth is already watering at the thought of me buying him ice-cream. The guest harbour was still open (I told him to ring first, but being male, he knew better.....again!), which we discovered while tying up at the pier. Before we had secured the ropes, a woman with a receipt book appeared from a nearby house. She had seen us come in and it seemed a bit churlish to tell her we were only staying for half an hour to shop. If the truth be told, we were too lazy to move again, so we shelled out the mooring fee and relaxed for the day in this pretty little sleepy town.



Påskallavik´s guest harbour and the marina are adjacent to a park area with a small beach and offer a spectacular view over "Blå Jungfrun" as well as over the open sea and the first of the 5,400 islands within the Oskarshamn archipelago.

This town has only 1,300 inhabitants these days, though in earlier times it was much larger, with the wealth mostly based on a stonemasonary. We found it a very quiet place, set out not unlike Timmernabben, with a long main road hugging the shoreline with the town stretched out along this coast road.

In the morning we did the washing and while it dried, we took out the bikes and rode around to see what was here. We passed by the church, a very pretty and typical stone church, covered with white plaster work. I read on a plaque outside that it was dated from 1865. We were not able to go inside, though as there was a funeral service on at the time and we didn't want to intrude.



Along the main road were many fine, large homes overlooking the water. They all had big garden areas and offer a light and airy atmosphere.



Another thing that I found charming were the cute wooden letterboxes. We also have these in Nynäshamn and I had thought that one day I would go around town and photograph some of my favourites as I think they are wonderful. Many people, especially in the country area paint their letterboxes with some theme that reflects the owner's interests. I've seen ones with birds, pets, boats, cars, flowers, island scenes etc. But this one in Påskallavik is really very individual and something that appeals to me greatly.



I am sorry now that I live in an apartment, now. I want a house in the country, with a letterbox featuring all of the family - humans, dog, birds, boat - and of course an Aussie flag. Okay, we can have a Swedish flag, too, if we have to...

This is the sort of country cottage I'd like...



But I saw that the former manor has been turned into apartments, so I'll have to look elsewhere.

The other reason we wanted to have a look at the town was because it was the home and working place of the sculptor Arvid Källström. I had seen his statue Ölandsflicka in Borgholm and thought it might be nice to pass by and see some of his other work. Now this may well fall under the category of Ignorant Artistic Critiquing, but here goes. I actually admit to not knowing much about art but I do know enough to say that this here sculpture is shithouse:



I kid you not, this six metre long, gaudily painted concrete monstrosity is meant to be the goddess Venus. I bet Sandro Botticelli is turning in his grave. And to make it even stranger, this piece of "art" is sitting in this guy's front garden along with several other pieces of questionable lumps of concrete. And we thought those wog gardens were a bit heavy on the concrete flamingoes and kitschy Mexicans. You can check out the rest of his front yard here (but not while you are eating. You have been warned). I can't imagine what possessed him to put these in front of a lovely traditional red wooden cottage. I know that if he was my neighbour, I'd be complaining to the council about it. However, he seems to be somewhat revered here, with this being a tourist attraction. It was also heavily featured on postcards of the town. I couldn't think of anyone I hated enough to send THAT postcard to.

It goes to show you that Frank Zappa was right when he said Art is making something out of nothing and selling it.

One of the joys of travelling around to see new places is the chance to sample the local speciality foods of the different regions. And Öland has some foods that are unique to this island. This called for a little shopping excursion to seek out what was available.

First stop was to pick up some traditional bread from Sörens Bröd on Södra Långgatan, where they have been baking bread since 1910. The flagship of the company is Ölandslimpa which is a flour/sour dough mixture spiced with whole carraway seeds. But I decided to be a little different and chose a loaf of Ölandsgrova, which is also a sour dough mixture with carraway, but in addition, it contains dark malt making a very rich and tasty bread.

To accompany this, I then bought some cheese from Ostbutiken. The local cheese (Ölandsost) is specially aged for between three and eight months and flavoured with cognac (Kvarngubbens Cognacskubbe) or carraway and cloves (Ölandsfåk). I chose the latter one. And to wash it all down, the local svagdricka, which is a light and somewhat sweet brewed malt based drink. I'd describe it as a cross between cola and beer. Sounds a bit naff, but it goes well with bread and cheese.

However, this was merely the appetiser. What I wanted to try was the infamous kroppkakor (literally "body cakes"). So that meant moseying around to Ängsgatan to Ölandskroppkakan where they are made.

Despite the somewhat off putting name, they are not a strange type of cannibal food but potato dumplings filled with a spiced pork mixture, served with lingon jam (a bit like cranberry sauce) and butter. And washed down with milk!



I have seen recipes for kroppkakor, but I believe they are not easy to make. It is a mixture of raw, grated potato, mixed with a little potato starch and flour. This is then shaped into balls and filled with a mixture of minced pork, finely diced onion, pepper and allspice. You then put the kroppkakor in a large saucepan of boiling water and let them simmer for about 30 minutes. Voila, they are ready when they float like happy icebergs in the water!

The trick seems to be getting the consistency of the potato mixture right. If they are not made correctly you end up with a mushy mess at the end of the boiling. It seems far easier to buy them ready made and simply do the boiling bit yourself. And they were very tasty. The people in Småland also make them with a slightly different flavouring to the pork mixture and each region swears that their kroppkakor are the best.´I like them all!



We survived the body cakes and after a good night's sleep, we took another of the forest paths through slottsskogen and on to the king's summerhouse at Solliden. It is another very warm, almost summerish day and it is great to be out in the fresh air. Lambi also tagged along for the ride, though as you can see she is not my faithful friend, preferring to wait for her pappa instead.



Solliden Palace is around two kilometres away from the harbour area, just south of Borgholm Castle. It was built in 1906 as a summer residence by the current king's great grandmother, Victoria. It had been suggested to her that the fresh air, mild climate and sunshine in Öland would be good for her health. She commissioned this Italian style white palace, surrounded by extensive parkland and gardens and since then it has become a summer oasis for the Swedish royal family.



The gardens are immaculate and looked wonderful, especially on such a warm sunny day. The minute that we paid our entrance fee and went inside the gate, Lambi started begging to be carried. Fortunately, Lars-Göran had brought his backpack with him, so he put her in that. We were both puzzled as we were sure that she'd enjoy sniffing around in the grounds, but she had other ideas. Just as we were wondering if she was okay, we heard the unmistakable sound of snoring emanating from the backpack. The little rat was asleep! So Lars-Göran had to carry around the snoring backpack all afternoon. I guess she is feeling her age.

Close by the palace, we saw a beautiful little thatch roofed wooden cottage.



This has been used by the royal children as a playhouse, but before the palace was built, this was a crofter's cottage where he lived with his wife and seven children! The mind boggles at where they would all have slept in such a tiny house.

Next to the palace, quite appropriately, was a small scale Italian garden. It wasn't something that appealed to Lars-Göran, but I loved it! Memories came flooding back to me of the beautiful renaissance gardens that I visited several times in Italy, especially Villa Medici in Rome, Villa d'Este in Tivoli, Villa Lante in Bagnaia, Villa Aldobrandini in Frascati, Boboli in Florence and Villa Farnese in Caprarola. Such gardens are very formal and geometric and based on a classical style developed in Italy in the 15th and 16th centuries.



There are a number of features characteristic of the Italian style that are present here: water features, geometrically-shaped beds, sculpture and the contrast of sun and shade within the pergola that stretches along the edge of the garden. Another feature of Italian gardens is also the lack of flowers with the plants being primarily evergreens for texture and shape, often in manicured topiary. I think Lars-Göran found it too formal, but I found it to be a delight. I recalled the words of the famous Renaissance architect-scholar Leone Battiste Alberti (1404-1472): "There (in the garden) you may sit and enjoy clear brilliant days and beautiful prospects over wooded hills and sunlit plains, and listen to the murmuring fountains among the tufted grass." Just beautiful!



A little further on and providing a strong contrast to the Italian garden was an extensive area set out as an English park. My favourite trees here were the big London plane tree (the same ones that line Frome Street in Adelaide). There were also lovely copper beech trees and in keeping with English tradition, this park provides light, open views of the entire area. In contrast to the formality of the adjacent Italian garden, this area showed a deliberate lack of any kind of symmetry and a restrained wildness.



The water feature that we saw in the Italian garden area earlier continued down the slope and culminated in a cascading waterfall that was a gift from the Swedish government to the king on his 40th birthday. It was lovely to stand there and listen to the gurgling water, hear the sound of your footsteps on the gravel path and look up to see the formal garden and the clear, classic lines of this Italian-inspired villa.



On the edge of the English park we followed a pathway down through the garden to a secret garden enclosed behind a hedge and found ourselves in a beautiful perfumed and sunny rose garden. This is known as the Dutch Garden as it was a gift from Queen Wilhemina of the Netherlands in 1926. The roses were in bloom and the fragrance was wonderful.

I am a great lover of roses and here were a select but very fine collection of bush roses, hybrid teas, miniatures and climbers. I recognised the clear yellow, large petalled Peer Gynt, the classic Queen Elizabeth as well as the pretty cascading Ballerina - all of which I had in my garden in Adelaide.

Of the varieties that I didn't recognise, I was very taken with the velvety dark red, highly perfumed Ingrid Bergman (a gorgeous hybrid tea rose) and the elegant pale pink Queen of Sweden (a beautiful old fashioned rose from David Austen). Again, it was such a joy to be here.



We walked arround looking at the croquet lawns, the rockery and enjoying coffee and cake out in the sunshine. You won't be at all surprised to learn that the white fluffy member of the wandering trio actually sprang to life when she sensed food on offer. But as soon as the cake was gone, she made a beeline for the backpack. What a lazy animal!

We rode back to town along the esplanade (Villagatan) and admired the elegant turn-of-the-century homes with their large gardens. I wonder what one of these would set you back? They used to have a lovely view across the bay, but now there is an extraordinarily ugly hotel built on the beach, so they get to see the service entrance of that instead.



A walk through the centre of town to the main square brought us to the church, a large and rather striking building dating from 1872 with it's high tower and pointed spires.



We then wandered down various streets, looking for a post box. You could buy postcards at every second shop in Borgholm, but the post boxes seemed to be well hidden! The town boasts many beautifully restored and well cared for larger villas. Many of them are now bed and breakfast places but there are still some that are family homes. I really liked the tower in this home - and the cute little porthole windows on it.



It's been a great, sunny stay here in Öland. Tomorrow we are heading back to the mainland. The forecast wind direction is south-west and we are not in the mood to beat against a strong headwind, so we are thinking of heading back north again across Kalmarsund and this time taking the inner route behind Dämman and see where we end up.

Now I'm off to cook some more body cakes.

It is a warm but slightly cloudy morning with the promise of good weather later, so we have decided to haul out the bikes and ride over to the ruins of Borgholm Castle, which lies a couple of kilometres from the harbour. We can see the castle clearly from where we are, so it should not be too hard to find the way there.

The road south of town is a beautiful leafy street and this leads to a fork in the road that was thankfully signposted (not always the case in Sweden, believe me). Both roads led to the castle, one via the paved coastal road and the other was a pedestrian pathway through a wooded area. We thought we'd take the forest path there and return via the coast when we were finished. This area is known as Slottsskogen (The Castle Forest) and was cool, green and lush in the morning light. The trees, mostly oak, beech, ash etc provided a shaded canopy that hid the castle from view. This was not always the case, with most of this area being chopped back so that the sentries in the castle could see potential enemies from far away. Today it was peaceful and full of the twittering of birds and scurrying squirrels. We rode part of the way and walked some of it, especially when the white fluffy one wanted to jump down and sniff around.



The castle is enormous and probably one of the best known buildings in Sweden. It is in a magnificent location, as it sits on its high limestone cliff, visible for many miles in every direction. It is a striking landmark for anyone sailing off the coast and from the precipice of the castle you can see the lowlands stretching out below you to the north, south and east with the shimmering blue waters of Kalmarsund to the west. Borgholm Castle is slap-bang in the middle of it all, rising so dramatically above a completely flat plain that you get dizzy just looking over the castle walls at the drop below.

Inside the ruins you get a good picture of the grandeur of the place and we marvelled at it's sheer dimensions and the aura of strength and power it exuded. The area pictured below was just inside the entrance area in a courtyard where the horses were secured. The people are dwarfed by the surrounding three stories of stone walls. It is really impressive today and I can only imagine how awed the peasants were by this place.



In many respects, Borgholm reminded me of the great Scottish fortress strongholds, especially Stirling Castle which I visited several years ago. That castle, also perched on a high, rocky cliff with a commanding view had the same rugged strength, which was quite a contrast to the stately, gentle beauty of the English castles that I'd visited on the same trip with their pretty gardens and rolling lawns. Borgholm is not a pretty castle, but speaks instead of power and domination and gives us a glimpse of some of its violent history.



Borgholm was certainly one of the most strategically important and formidable strongholds in Swedish history. There has been some form of castle here since the Middle Ages and from that time until the late eighteenth century it was the scene of battles, sieges, destruction and reconstruction. At times the castle (and the country) were held by Germans, Danes and finally the Swedes with the main court being held here until a change in the political winds decreed that the power base moved northwards to Stockholm.



The castle has undergone many, many extensions since it was first constructed in the 1100's. The castle museum displayed models of three of these rebuildings. The first castle was erected within a ring-wall in the twelfth century and was quite simple in form and looked very much like a stronghold.

Between 1572 and 1592, King Johan III decided to transform the old fortress into a magnificent renaissance style castle. I really loved this design with the beautiful decorated round towers at each corner of the rectangular building, plus a further tower on each of the four walls. The state apartments were situated facing west with wonderful a vista across the water. It was so elegant and tasteful and looked like a fantasy land palace.



However, during the bloody Kalmar War of 1611-1613, the castle was severely damaged, so the king of the day, Karl X Gustaf commissioned an architect to transform it instead into a restrained classic baroque style fortress. I have to say that this was the least attractive of the three rebuildings, but there was no doubt that it sent a message of strength, power and domination to anyone who was thinking of laying siege to it.



These plans were only partly carried out and continued under subsequent kings, but finally was discontinued in the mid eighteenth century, after which the castle fell into a rapid rate of decay. I read in the literature at the museum that there had been a plan to turn the castle into a post office! I cracked up laughing at that one. Apart from the fact that it was a tad large to handle mail for a tiny island, it was also a steep two kilometre climb up to the castle, so who could be bothered collecting the mail. I said to Lars-Göran that it was the most harebrained scheme I'd ever heard and he shook his head and said "Sadly, I recognise my country."



The stand-off and neglect continued until October 14th 1806 when a fire broke out in some outer buildings that were being used as a clothing factory. There were strong north easterly winds blowing at the time and the fire quickly spread, reducing the castle to a shell.

And speaking of laughing, I also cracked up when I read this sign in English:



At first when I saw The Blasted Church, I was hoping for some juicy scandal involving separation of powers between chuch and state. I mean it sounds exactly the sort of thing that the Tudor English king Henry VIII would have screamed at Thomas More when he was told that he could not divorce Catherine of Aragon and marry Anne Boleyn instead. Hmm, perhaps he wouldn't have been quite so polite about it, but you get my drift.

However, a quick glance at the Swedish text told me that they had made a rather literal translation of the heading into English. The text talks about a church built in the village at the foot of the castle that had been blown up by the Swedes so that invading Danish forces could not use it as shelter. While the word sprängda certainly could be translated as blasted (as in blown up), you would not translate Den Sprängda Kyrkan as "The Blasted Church" unless your intention was to amuse visiting Australians. For any Swedes reading this who are a little confused, when I read "The Blasted Church", I immediately translated it as Den Jäkla Kyrkan - which is not really the same thing at all....



We spent over three hours here walking over every square inch of the place and viewing it from all angles. Even from above, the view down to the central courtyard was awe inspiring.



It is a building that doesn't leave you unmoved. Its sheer size is overwhelming and its location is fascinating. Really, it has an imposing atmosphere, which leaves an unforgettable impression.



From high in the tower we looked down to the town of Borgholm itself and the harbour in the distance, with Fiona quietly bobbing up and down in the water. As you can see, the sunshine and blue skies have returned and in the early afternoon we decide to take the coastal road back to the harbour.



Tomorrow we are going to visit the other royal residence here at Solliden. But first we need to rest our weary legs and crack open a bottle of red wine.

It has only just occurred to me just how dark the nights have suddenly become over the last week or so. The sky is really black now and the stars have reappeared for the first time in many months. I had almost forgotten what true night looks like after the summer months of "almost dusk" nights. And I do have to say that I like it. There is something very comforting about a deep, dark night.

The winds are a bit so-so for heading south, so instead we are heading more south east across the straits of Kalmar to the town of Borgholm on the island of Öland. Lars-Göran used to laugh at the way I pronounced the word Öland. I used to say "Öl-and" (in English that would sound a bit like "Earl-and"). I guess that was amusing to him as "öl" is Swedish for beer and "and" means a wild duck. You can imagine him quacking as he drank a cold beer when we were here last time. I tell you that he is picking up Aussie humour far too fast for my liking. Anyway, now I've learned to say "Ö-land" (more like "Err-land") which means island country and is a much more appropriate name. Unless of course you happen to be a wild duck that likes beer and you live here. But you can't please everybody.

I really love this island, which is considered the premier holiday destination by many Swedes. It is reputed to have the most sunshine in Sweden and every summer the place is packed with happy holidaymakers, staying in guest harbours, caravan parks, camping grounds, towns, farms etc enjoying the lovely flat countryside, sandy beaches and oodles of sunshine.

Even though it is September, it is still very sunny on Öland and we snigger when we watch the evening weather report and look at the cloud over Stockholm and the big yellow sun hovering on the map over Öland.



You would think that it's mid-July, wouldn't you? We had our afternoon coffee here on the beach, soaking up the sun's rays and enjoying the view across the bay.

Borgholm is the largest town on Öland, with around 11,000 inhabitants. The whole island is only 137km long and 16 km wide with Borgholm lying in the middle of the west coast facing the Swedish mainland. It is naturally the most popular tourist town on the island and during the intensive few weeks of the summer season, thousands of tourists descend on the town. The king also has his summer residence nearby, adding that royal touch to the summer here.

The guest harbour has mooring space for 250 boats and is usually extremely busy, with barely a free space available. But not today...



You've got to love the peace and tranquility of a late vacation. We were all alone in the harbour despite the sunshine, warmth and blue skies. It was funny to have a choice of pier spots and to simply tie up alongside the chosen space - something that would be impossible from mid-June to mid-August. But our peace was short-lived, foiled by the money-grabbing nature of the town. While it is undoubtedly a beautiful town, it is very much a tourist trap and you get the distinct impression that your wallet, rather than your person is what is most welcome here.

The guest harbour guide reports that this harbour closes on August 31st. When we moored we double checked at the office and saw the sign saying that they were closed for the season. All of the mooring buoys had been removed, the hoses were disconnected from the taps on the piers and we were surrounded by the sounds of silence. Great! So, imagine our surprise upon returning from a look around to suddenly find the office open, the sign saying they were closed was mysteriously replaced by one saying they were open from 4pm to 8pm and there was someone on duty to collect our 300kr mooring fee! We felt cheated and were not prepared to shell out that sort of money, so we moved Fiona a hundred metres to the outer harbour near the ferry terminal, where we happily stayed for three days - FREE...



The town is very expensive, even by Swedish standards. For example, a simple plain Margherita pizza for one person costs 90kr (compared to 37kr on the mainland)! The main street is full of cafés, restaurants, ice-cream parlours, t-shirt and souvenir shops á la Glenelg or Manly style, but many of them were closed for the season. Already??

It is not all bad news however. One of the main reasons we wanted to visit was to check out Borgholms Slott, the ruins of the large castle that you can see high on the hill in the background of the last photograph.

But that is another blog entry.

The local heritage society in Mönsterås has a wonderful heritage centre (hembygdsgård) in the middle of town and we cycled over one afternoon to take a look. I like to visit these places as they provide an excellent insight into Swedish architectural history as well as a snapshot of Swedish life in pre-industrial times.



This particular place had over a dozen different buildings set in beautiful park-like grounds, each one a museum preserving a particular piece of Mönsterås history. The main entrance was through a large manor house, typical of those in Småland in the nineteenth century.



Our guide was a local man in his seventies who spent over two hours with us (we were the only visitors that day). He talked at length about the exhibits, answered all of our many questions about the town and its history as well as the history of the houses on display and he took us wherever we wanted to go. There was a fully equipped ninteenth century apothecary complete with a herb garden, analysis room, laboratory, distilling room and so on. There was also an old village shop with all of its fixtures and fittings intact.



The furniture and interior fittings were authentic pieces from that time. I did like the kitchen area with the wonderful old wooden stove, though I'm sure that I would not like the idea of chopping wood etc, especially on a frozen winter morning. Give me the convenience of modern technology at times like that. It can be so easy to romanticise the lifestyle of these simpler bygone times when we see places like this, but you have to also keep in mind that it was a lot of hard work.



One small cottage really captured my fancy. I thought it was some kind of playhouse as it didn't seem big enough for adults. It turned out to be a simple two roomed, low ceilinged crofter's cottage with a roof that made me laugh out loud. I mean, most of us in Australia grow our lawn around the house, not on the house!



He told me that it was peat (torv in Swedish) and that it was dried and packed onto the rafters that had first been covered with sheets of birch bark. It provided a cheap roof that was well insulated and easy to repair. However, during the summer months, especially when there was a lot of rain, the seeds in the peat sprouted and it looked as though you had a lawn on your roof.

Inside the house it was simply furnished, though we noted that these people were not totally destitute as they could afford wallpaper. Many poor people had to make do with newspaper on the walls instead of paint or wallpaper. We also saw that compact living was in force in those days with the large room being used as living, dining and bedroom for the entire family, with a tiny kitchen annexe at the side.



I was commenting on something to Lars-Göran in English and our guide turned and apologised that he could not speak any English. I assured him that I understood Swedish, but said that sometimes I don't know the Swedish word for something and then I revert to English. He asked where I was from and was delighted when he heard Australia. Apparently his father was born in Australia. His grandfather had a job as a cabin boy aboard one of the trade ships operating out of Mönsterås. When the ship arrived in Australia, he jumped ship and took off to the Victorian goldfields - something that was a common occurance in the goldrushes of the 1850's. He stayed on in Australia for several years, returning to Sweden to marry his childhood sweetheart and take her back to Australia with him. He owned some farmland and lived happily there for many years, started a family, later returning to Mönsterås to live. Who would have thought that anyone here even knew where Australia was, let alone had a connection with it.



The next day, again bright and sunny, we went to have a look at the church. Situated high on a ridge, it towers over the old parts of town and the warm colours of the exterior made it look very inviting. The chuch had been closed each time we passed by, but this morning we heard the bells ring out so we took a chance that it would be open. We spoke with the very friendly and helpful verger who gave us some information about the building and the parish. She also loaned us the keys to the choir loft so that we could go upstairs and look at the church from above.



There has been a church here on the hill for over 1,000 years. Initially there was a wooden church, probably constructed by the local villagers. In the thirteenth century a simple stone church was built. Unfortunately this was a politically volatile region and by the seventeenth century the church had been all but destroyed by the warring Danes. In the eighteenth century when the region had stabilised, the present church was constructed. It is a beautiful, well preserved structure and the muted colours they use on the interior give it a great sense of peace and tranquility.



In the centre you can see a glass case that contains two very old, historic bibles. There is a Latin Nürnberg bible dating from 1523 in excellent condition and a Swedish Karl XII bible from 1703. The altar painting depicts the scene where Christ is taken from the cross and is copied from the one in Kalmar cathederal.



Evidently this is a thriving parish, with over 100 people attending Sunday services, which is somewhat surprising in this day and age of dwindling church attendances. Outside in the square was a memorial display commemorating Mönsterås's most famous son, Carl Boberg, a pastor here who in 1885 composed the well loved psalm O Store Gud which has been translated into 200 languages. In English, we know the hymn as How Great Thou Art. I never realised that this was a Swedish composition.

Outside the sun shone and the huge handblown glass windows were filled with warmth, light and a sense of being out in nature as the cool green colours from the trees streamed in with the sunlight. It was a lovely church.



We've really enjoyed our few days here. The town is pretty as well as quiet and the people are very open and friendly. I was surprised by the number and variety of shops here in a town of only 5,000 people and certainly the local supermarket was the best Konsum I've been to in Sweden, both in terms of price, range of products and freshness of everything. I had to post a few postcards and bought my stamps at Konsum (which doubles as the local postal agency) and the girl at the check-out told me to quickly pop out and post them as the guy was clearing out the postbox. She said she'd total up my groceries and I could pay for them and the stamps when I got back. That was typical of the people here and I'm so glad that we made the effort to visit.

This is the final evening's view from the cockpit. It is so warm and nice that it feels like high summer again rather than early autumn.



Such a peaceful, relaxing place. To show you how relaxed one can be here, I read about one Mönsterås resident that took it really too far. This woman, Karolina Olsson (or Karlsson as she later became) fell asleep for thirty two years! Apparently, on October 20th 1875, she fell asleep aged fourteen and woke as a forty seven year old in 1908! It seems that she lived a completely normal life after that and died in 1950, aged 89 in one of the aged care facilities here in town. Now that's what I call a good sleep.

Time is ticking away, so we will be heading south again in the morning, now that we finally have suitable winds, but I get the feeling that we will certainly be visiting this town again in the future.

Oh yes, I almost forgot. They have toothbrushes! Yay!