(Kännestubba = Shan-e-stu-ba)

Internet, Hallelujah! Internet cafes and laundromats are hard to come by here in Sweden, but we make do.

From the Journal of Carl Lundblad, my Great Grandfather, 1914:

…On September 3 we went down to Småland to Hanna’s birthplace. That is in Hultsjö parish and the farm is called Kännestubba. We went by train early in the morning, 7:46, from Jönköping and changed trains in Nässjö. After having seen the town a bit we continued the journey to Sävsjö and were met there by a carriage and went the two mile long road passing lakes and fjords and the church’s school house and the parish house, manor farms and cottages, farms and small cottages with straw roofs, beautiful meadows, fields and potato fields, cliffs and hills, trees of all kinds and sizes, juniper bushes and heather, lingon and blueberries. At last we arrived at grandmother’s old cottage and were by then wet from the rain which had fallen quite copiously but were soon dry standing in front of the fire at the open fireplace. Then we had good coffee and sandwiches and felt happy. We were at home for several days and had the pleasure of all kinds of things among which were picking lingonberries and game parties and coffee klatches in every cottage. One day I and Alfred Svensson were out fishing for a whole day and caught a perch….

From the Scandic Swania Hotel in Trollhäattan by Ciara, 2007:

Sweden is completely rural outside of its cities- no sprawl. Rural as in quaint farms all painted the exact same shade of barn red. And it’s flat. There are a handful of houses painted yellow or white. Turns out the red color was traditionally made from the refuse of a large copper mine in Sweden, and it was used because it was cheap. Tradition keeps the buildings red. We held a contest to see who could spot a blue or green house. I actually saw a purple one. But just one. The lack of creativity (influenced by many stringent city planning regulations, not just by a love of tradition) keeps the rustic landscape covered in pristine farmland and lush forests, and dotted with small villages clustered around tall white steeples. It’s truly beautiful, and I can easily imagine my great grandparents greeted with the same view back in 1914.

Since we didn’t have a carriage waiting to take us to the little backwater village of Kännestubba, mom and I gave up on the train and rented a car. We had lunch in the closest town and asked the waitress for directions, as we still had not been able to locate it on the map. Turns out the village comprises about six houses. We stopped along the way at the parish church and looked in vain for a grave marker of a recognizable relative- almost every single inhabitant was a Johnson or Peterson. Parking at random in front of a barn red house in the village, we happened upon the only person in our Swedish experience who didn’t speak English (we speak no Swedish). Magically my mother managed to convey that her grandmother came from there (and we were corrected as to the correct pronunciation of the village).

The old woman invited us into her house and phoned a friend who worked as a research librarian in the city, who also fortunately spoke English. Ingrid served us a quite excellent Fika while we waited for Ulf to call back with info. He located the name of the farm where Hannah was born and gave Ingrid directions, and she drove with us to the house. The current house was built after Hannah emigrated, but there were still stone steps along one side that belonged to the original cabin (left). Afterwards we went over to Ulf’s 17th century farmhouse where he served us dinner and researched more genealogy. My mother is amazing at talking to complete strangers. We left Kännestubba armed with Hannah’s family names and locations, and three new friends. Pretty good for a day’s work!

We left Carl and Hannah’s path and drove to Vaxjo for the night.

From the Journal of Carl Lundblad, 1914:

On Wednesday evening, August 19, we left beautiful Stockholm in order to travel to Jönköping and left at midnight from Riddarsholmen on the boat Victor Rydberg through the Göta Canal. Very pleasant and interesting trip on the whole. We passed Södertälje and Vadstena, Motala and Hjo and Söderköping. Passed through 36 locks in all including 15 stacked locks at one place and 5 at another and individual locks and bridges… Were met there by our brother-in-law, Anders Petterson, who immediately arranged a car for us and took us to their home at Klostergaten 36 where we were the rest of the time. We have been out on some shorter trips. We have been in Huskvarna, a very beautiful natural spot….

From an internet cafe in Uppsala train station by Ciara, 2007:

Though it took Carl and Hannah, my Great Grandparents, a day an a half to get from Stockholm to Jönköping by boat on the Göta Canal, we decided to take the extra day and visit the Viking graves in the old capital of Sweden, then take the train to Jönköping (above photo). We didn’t actually have the luxury of a choice, as the boats stop running after August. Would that the guidebooks have mentioned so many things close after August. Beware traveller! Go to Sweden during the summer.

Yesterday in Stockholm, after writing from the train station, we visited the map store across the street to try to find maps that have individual farms listed. We found maps of the parishes from which my great-grandparents hailed, but they didn’t have the farm maps in stock. The Vasa Ship was huge and had beautiful carvings on it. We had fika in a little cafe along the water and then took an hour-long train north to Uppsala, the medieval capital of Sweden. Uppsala is relatively boring, compared to the charm and vibrancy of Stockholm. We took a cab to the bed & breakfast in a suburb, where I promptly crashed.

This morning Marit (the B&B owner) drove us to Gamla Uppsala to see the ancient burial mounds (left) and the 13th century church that the guidebook proclaimed to be the most beautiful in all of Sweden. The mounds contain viking cremations and legend has it that pagan human sacrifices were conducted nearby. We went to the Viking Museum, where I got reaffirmation that a romance novel set in Stockholm in the early 1800′s is a fantastic idea. Apparently the 19th century was the age of Viking Romanticism. Awesome cultural backdrop, is it not? Afterwards we had lunch in Odin’s Mead hall where we quenched our thirst with its famous horns of mead.

We took the train to Jönköping and stayed on Klostergatan, the same street where my Great Grandparents stayed in 1914, purely by accident. Unfortunately we didn’t realize the coincidence until after we left, so we didn’t get a photo.

Picturesque buildings topped with mansard roofs and turrets, decorated with stone carvings and painted in peach, cream, apricot, rose, saffron, and buttercup, line the curving cobblestone streets on the small ancient island of Gamla Stan, “Old Town”. Along the waterfront float white archepelago boats, while bicyclists and pedestrians wander over bridges connecting the fourteen colorful islands that compose the city. Stockholm is beautiful. Forget London – Stockholm has the romantic setting, cosmopolitan culture, and court intrigue to make it an excellent setting for a Regency-style romance novel. Take Gustav III for example – the king instituted a renasaince of high art and culture, building a royal opera and theater in the 1790′s, and creating a noble society where the opera was the place to see and be seen. He was murdered by assassins at a masquerade at the opera, which was the inspiration for a Verdi opera. What better backdrop for a novel?

My Great Grandparents traveled back to Sweden in 1914 and my mother and I are loosely following my Great Grandfather’s trip journal. It took them sixteen days to reach to Stockholm by boat and train:

…after having traveled the whole night we arrived there the next day, August 6, at 10 o’clock in the morning, hungry and tired after having traveled 2 nights without any sleep to speak of. On our arrival there the town was full of refugees and in a mild uproar because of the war.

Fortunately it only took my mom and I forteen hours or so to reach Stockholm by plane. Today is our third day in the city. On Thursday we visited the “New” Royal Palace, so called because it has only been in existance for 250 years, as opposed to the previous Tre Kronar Castle that existed in its various forms since the 13th century, until it burned down and the new palace was built. It is fairly boring as palaces go, square with little detailing or carvings. There are no formal gardens attached. We walked around a few of the nearby small island parks, admiring the bike lanes and the historic boats and the fabulous architecture that makes me drool. I adore Stockholm!

Yesterday we walked to Skansen, the world’s first living history museum founded in the 1890′s, where historic buildings from all over Sweden were relocated. A few of the buildings were open with historians in traditional garb available to answer questions. I wish there had been more. It differs from an experience like Sturbridge Village or Colonial Williamsburg in that the buildings represent It also has animals from around Sweden, many of which are endangered. In the late afternoon we took a two-hour boat tour under the bridges of Stockholm and finally saw the modern part of the city. I prefer the historic districts, of course. It rained.

Today we will see the Vasa Museusm, the 17th century worlds-largest warship that, Titanic-like, sank on its maiden voyage. Fortunately it sank into some brackish mud that preserved it. Then we are taking the train to Uppsala, the original capital of Sweden built on a pagan sacrifice spot.

The weather is colder than we had anticipated, and we may have to indulge in the scandinavian’s talent for knitted wool sweaters. Fortunately for us, everyone speaks english here. I’ve finished two books by Stephanie Laurens, my new favorite Regency author. Her heroes are the epitome of true romance alpha-males: possesively protective, always honorable, gentlemen to the last. I intend to write a post on all her wonderful books, but it will have to wait till I get back from my travels.

Giant, chiseled blond men wielding axes feature prominently in my hopeful expectations for my maiden voyage to the ancestor-land, Sweden. Fortunately we plan to visit Foteviken, the Viking living history museum near Malmö. I am sooooo pumped. The Museum is a reconstructed Viking village in which the inhabitants recreate medieval handicrafts, occupations, culture and way of life. Villagers engage in traditional 12-century activities, including shipbuilding, sailing, archery, tanning, pottery, smithery, and music. They make their own clothing and build their own houses using medieval tools and materials. The Rough Guide to Sweden notes “the place has become a Mecca for people from all over Europe who want to live as Vikings, together with a not inconsiderable number of characters, sporting wild beards and lots of beads, who firmly believe they are Vikings.”

It occurred to me that I should use this opportunity to research for a Viking romance novel, hence the title of today’s post. I should probably have prepared for my trip by sampling some of the many Viking romances here. I’ve read On a Highland Shore, which I gave three Hearts, but in general Men-In-Kilts float my boat more than barbarians.

My trip to Sweden is actually more conducive to the Great American Novel, should I care to write about depressing things. My mother and I are taking the trip together to walk in the footsteps of her grandparents. It’s a story about love and loss and the American Dream, full of immigration, culture shock, out-of-wedlock births, family abandonment, family secrets, adoption, suicide, you name it. Interwoven with the story of my great-grandmother is the story of our voyage to Sweden, visiting the places written about in the journal of my adoptive-great-grandfather, to search for the ghost of Dagmar and find out something about ourselves, our own identity as Swedish and American and Woman. Deep huh? Ah, Real Literature. Give me Happily-Ever-After any day.

We fly into Stockholm on September 13th, stay for three nights, then travel north to Uppsala for a day, where the 200 birthday of Carl Linnaeus, the Father of Modern Taxonomy, is being celebrated this year. Then we travel to Växjö to visit the immigration museum that has records of the 1.2 million Swedish people who left for the United States between 1850 and 1930, where, hopefully, the researchers will have uncovered some information about our long-lost relatives. Armed with places and names, we will visit the towns where my mother’s adopted grandparents and biological grandmother came from, potentially knocking on doors and introducing ourselves to hither-to unknown second cousins. Next we travel south to Lund, the oldest city in the country and south again to Fotoviken, before returning to Stockholm and flying home. Somewhere during the trip we plan to take a boat ride on the Göta Canal (connecting the North Sea and Baltic Sea), bicycle through the countryside, and drink Kaffe in little cafes while people watching.

I will attempt to blog about my journey when I can find internet cafes.

Ha det så bra!