Swedish summer in Västra Hamnen
Today, like nearly every other day for the past month, the sun rose early, pouring into the apartment like the savage heat of a Mexican vacation.
The birds started their daily chattering around 4 a.m. in regular observance of their fowl social hour. And before long the radiant sun was pressing through the layers of our drawn window blinds and thick, velour curtains. It was hot, really hot.
I usually keep my extra thick face mask handy, just in case I wake up and cannot get back to sleep. The face mask is amazingly effective, cradling my closed eyes in soft satin and soothing darkness. I am sure that I look scary, but not nearly as scary as I look when I only get four hours of sleep.
This morning I slept in, thanks to the mask and the relative quiet of our apartment with the men gone on their schools-out, summers-in motorcycling adventure. I stayed in bed late and then took extra time to journal, read, pray, and drink coffee on the balcony under our tree, now thick with its summer leaves.
It has been a mixed week for me, a few days of enjoying our life here, and a few days of struggling with the ongoing search for a job and the ongoing problems I cannot solve. The futile job search is a difficulty I should have expected, coming to Sweden without highly sought tech skills or a proficiency in Swedish. But even so, looking for a job can be deeply discouraging, and some days I just need a vacation from planning and thinking and trying. And so, this morning I decided to do just that.
Micah brought me an avocado-cocoa-spinach-almond milk-date smoothie, and we talked about life, not the distant future, just the present; and when the smoothies were done I told her I thought we needed to go for a long, hot run and jump into the ocean.
She was reluctant, not so sure about the jumping-into-the-ocean part, but I prevailed and we ran across Malmö in the midday heat. We ran through some of our favorite parks with the tall trees and their delightfully shading green canopy. We ran past the museum that she has not yet been to and then on to the long sandy beach strand. We ran along the beach, choosing a trail and avoiding the stream of people using the bike and pedestrian path. And then we ran through our “old neighborhood,” Västra Hamnen, the stylish new apartment village where we lived in a small, temporary apartment last summer. That already feels like a long time ago, even though the anniversary of our arrival is next Saturday.
It was almost 80 degrees again today in Malmö, and I was surprised to see how much of the grass had turned yellow, sun-scorched like California in September. Everyone is talking about how unusual the weather has been, and Swedish officials have even sent out social media warnings, urging people to use less water.
When we arrived at the docks, I took off my running shoes, walked to the end of the pier; and to Micah’s surprise, jumped in. Last Saturday I met my friend Jennifer at the docks and she urged me to jump without thinking. Jennifer often gives me really deep advice without realizing it. “Just jump in,” she says with her cute shrug and reassuring smile. And she was right. It really is the best way, because even in June, the water is still freezing cold, and the only way in is sudden, full immersion.
Later in June Micah jumped off the highest point at the docks.
But here is a nasty secret most people don’t know about California: the water is cold there too. It looks warm and balmy in movies, but it is not Hawaii. In the 14 years, I lived within three miles of the Pacific Ocean, and I only swam a few times. And when I did swim in the ocean it was almost always in August when the warm sun had finally warmed the water to the mid-60s. In June I was more likely to wear a sweatshirt to Santa Monica beach than a swimming suit.
According to some resources, the water in Malmö is actually almost the same temperature as Malibu throughout the summer months. Today it was about 62 degrees, and it was 63 degrees in Malibu. But unlike swimming at the beautiful California beaches where you have to brave past each cold, crashing wave; getting fully immersed in the Öresund Strait is as easy as running and jumping from the public docks. And after the cold shock of it all, nothing feels so exhilarating and calming as washing away all the sweat and dirt in an instant.
After swimming around long enough to feel warm, we got out and did what everyone else on the dock was doing. We let the sun dry us and then we jumped in again — like the sauna routine without the sauna.
Families around us shared picnics, parents with small children, young people with grandparents. Couples talked or read books, both in English and Swedish. One young man next to us read a biography of Stalin in English. Two young women laid next to each other, reading the same novel in Swedish. I wondered if they had a book club or if it was for a class.
The crowd was wonderfully age-diverse, elderly men and women sunning and swimming alongside teenagers. I noticed again, how gracefully Swedish people seem to be able to transition from winter white to golden brown. I, on the other hand, got the first sunburn I have had in years.
After we swam, Micah and I walked slowly back to the apartment, stopping to play on an empty playground, talking about the creative play structures and her childhood friends. We watched an endurance race with multiple obstacle stations, teams of people crawling under a maze of ropes, crossing the city moat on connected barrels. It looked like fun, the kind of thing Kip would like. We watched for a while and then meandered to my favorite falafel stand. I ordered a kycklingrulle, a middle eastern chicken burrito, the best fast food deal in Malmö, and we walked back to the apartment. Satisfied. Happy.
One of us said we liked the simplicity of our life here. The other agreed.
It is Saturdays like this that I want to remember when somebody asks what we did in Sweden.
I wrote this piece in June 2018.