Sweden – Page 3 – Malibu to Malmö

I was right about the sunshine, wrong about the rain.

The sunshine did not last. Saturday morning, I woke up to grey clouds and a deep desire to get out, go for a run, breathe deeply into life. By the time I got out the door the unforgiving sky was threatening to rain. Then came a fine sprinkle and then a full London-style, persistent, wet drizzle that could almost count as rain. But I ran to the park anyway and found that unlike any 50-degree rainy Saturday in California, the park was packed, completely full of people. And it began to occur to me that Swedish people are not hindered by the California delusion that sunshine is necessary for outdoor enjoyment.

There were the usual outside people, the kind that don’t really have a choice, dog owners. But there were also plenty of other people strolling along the park’s extensive paths — couples with babies, family’s with little children on little bikes, runners of all ages, single people walking, running, just enjoying being outside in their water-resistant clothing. I saw plenty of red-cheeked smiles.

I was not wearing water resistant clothing so I was quite sweaty and rain drenched by the time I stopped at the library, which was also full of people enjoying a rainy Saturday morning in the relative tranquility of Malmö’s public library.

This place, by the way, is beautiful. Located on the edge of Malmö’s Slottsparken, this urban library is a modern architectural masterpiece. Half of the library is old, a castle-like museum that has housed books for seventy years. The other half, which was finished in the late 90s, is a massive glass box, ushering light into the main hall of bookshelves, illuminating even the grayest of days. This half is called a “Calendar of Light,” and is a perfect example of modern Scandinavian genius for drawing the light inside. I love it.

While at the library I picked up a stack of travel books to help us plan our fall escape. Our son has a week off from school at the end of October and has already planned to make his first solo international trip, going home to visit friends in LA. Kip took the week off from work, so now we just have to decide where to go. Spain? Italy? Morocco?

We both want to get a little autumn sunshine, but we don’t want to break the bank either. I find myself checking historical weather averages of different places within reasonable travel distance. If we are going to travel, it would be nice to get a little unbottled, natural Vitamin D. I know that there is joy in the rain, but I still want to find a little sun, just for a week in October before the real winter arrives.

I woke up to a patch of blue sky warming the cold streets where pedestrians were still scurrying, faces against the wind, hurrying on to work and the places they always go on a Friday morning.

It looked like the little blueness would work into full sunshine, if only for an hour before the clouds picked up in the afternoon. Maybe I was in a cynical mood, but I thought about Ray Bradbury’s short story, “Summer in a Day,” and felt that I had to get out. As quickly as possible.

Since I don’t yet have a place to go in the middle of a Friday morning, I grabbed my bike, the one I have hardly ridden since college but somehow made it on the shipment from California. And I rode across Malmö.

Malmö is small and covered in designated bike paths, so it is not difficult to ride across it in less than an hour.

I rode to the beach and walked out onto one of the piers. There was a trio of older women walking together, touching hands, laughing, speaking a middle eastern language I did not recognize, letting the gentle sea breezes tease the scarfs around their faces while they posed for a picture together. A Scandinavian man rode his bicycle to the pier, walked past the women in their coats and scarves, stripped down to his shorts and jumped into the frigid ocean water. That is so Malmö.

I rode up the beach, into neighborhoods I did not know, ones still transitioning from the old industrial shipping docks to modern apartments. A few fishing boats clung to the docks, reminding the present of the past. Even human infrastructure has a limited purpose, a time and a day, a moment of usefulness. Abandoned rails nearly hidden in the sidewalk testify to that. I wondered when the newly constructed apartment buildings along the docks would be outdated and laughable.

I stopped to observe a swan family. The “ugly ducklings,” almost the size of their mother paddled behind her gracefully, effortlessly gliding along. I wondered if they would stay for winter or fly somewhere south. I wondered when they would grow white feathers and look like their parents.

The cob stayed behind, nonchalantly guarding his flock while serendipitously eating the water plants growing at the edge of the bay. This summer I saw a swan attack a golden retriever that had gotten to close to his cygnets. I wondered if this was the same bird. I kept a respectful distance.

Then I rode home, feeling warmed by the sun.

A Californian living in Sweden

Tag: Sweden

A Drizzly Saturday Morning in the Park

A Moment of Sunshine