Red clogs. My legs have two bright and beautiful red clogs to wear. They are the blood in my heart, the life of my kissing lips, the blush of my cheeks betraying my passions, the beautiful facade of these little huts all over the countryside. I found them during a random exploration walk pre hotel check-out on my last day in Stockholm. I couldn't translate the signs in this small shop (despite all my good intentions to learn a few words in Swedish, nothing really stuck, probably because I got Norwegian, Swedish and Danish all mixed up), but I could tell these little wonders were on sale. What can I say, I fell under the spell of Scandinavia, this Nordic land with a nature that seems to have a strong resemblance with my beloved and native Canada.
There has been magic in the air during this trip, despite the loyal insomnia, a rhinovirus and some rainy days. It must be the red shoes, turning me into a Dorothy after I survived one of the worst emotional storms of my entire life.
This adventure, like many of the other trips I have had the privilege to take in my life, was daydreamt about for many years before manifesting. I am a big fan of Pippi. I like the eco-friendly effort the Scandinavian countries are making. I admire the traditional embroidered outfits. I subscribe to hygge. My cousin has connections in Norway (he lived there as an exchange student for a year and I had the pleasure to meet his host family several decades ago), and this filled me with a mixture of envy and fascination, only adding to the mythical aura of these Nordic countries.
Months ago, I received an email from an international group I am part of and that seeks to raise awareness about a severe form of child psychological abuse called parental alienation. It was a unique opportunity to discover Oslo and, with extra vacation time, explore the neighboring countries. I contacted my friend who lives in rural Sweden to see if we could see each other. He immediately arranged for me to rent a tiny red house nearby in his village. He was kind enough to pick me up at the Sandefjord airport, where we started a conversation that almost lasted the two days I visited him in Näsbo (minus the few two-hour naps I had to take). Once I overcame the motion sickness on a very windy road, thanks to the crackers I had rescued from the airplane meal tray, it was an amazing mini-retreat of gratitude in connection with nature that awaited. I visited a mill, swam in a lake with my friend's daughter twice before sunset, petted his dog and 3 cats, had a breakfast in silence on the front porch watching a light rain the first morning, ate some berries and sour green apples from his front yard, and had a delicious pasta dish with forest mushroom sauce prepared by his sweet daughter. We were also even able to accomplish one of our goals, which was recording, in front of his beautiful red house, the introductory episode of our podcast “The Dandelion Reflections” (which will be launched very soon).
The conversation continued for the three-hour trip to Oslo, where he generously drove me. The compact room at the Citybox was very clean. After congratulating myself once again for bringing facial cloths (I had been confronted too many times with the perplexing discrepancy of scrubbing practices between North Americans and folks from other countries), I spent three and a half days learning at the conference, connecting and exploring. I got so busy and had so much to take in, I quickly found myself behind in my daily journaling. Berit, my cousin's host sister, invited me over for dinner (with delicious Norwegian salmon and apple cake dessert) in Asker. I spent a delightful evening with her and her family, practicing gratitude and seeing the importance of the connections with other people, so they are reminders of people we love and may have lost (her mother had passed since I had last seen them). My boyfriend joined me for the rest of the trip and after a few nights we went to Stockholm to spend time with two lifelong friends of his. We enjoyed each other's company thoroughly. My boyfriend had found splendid accommodations, and his friends took us to the archipelago to have lunch, and later to a cool rooftop bar.
Often, back in the room, I contemplated the content of my luggage, and smiled at how I had managed to pack the same way I always do: two to three items I wear the majority of the time, and four items I barely wear, which by the end of the trip ensures a creative, unexpected (not to say clashing) combination of clothes. But first of all, I ended up fitting in perfectly at the ABBA museum and second of all, that provides me with a good excuse to buy some clothes in more stylish Europe, ha!
So once my magic shoes found me, I was almost ready to go home (and show them off) but we still had Copenhagen as our last stop. I must admit I was looking forward to seeing the colorful facades and boats on Nyhavn, and above all the statue of The Little Mermaid, which had been mythical to me ever since I had been mesmerized by her from the cover of a travel magazine at the age of 18.
I had opened the book Lonely Planet only a few times but it just felt like reading an internal medicine textbook, with too much new info written in small font. So I decided to make peace with my natural approach, which is discovering places as I go, without fighting this tendency, and use the guide only as a dictionary or paper version of Mr. Google. I always thought doing an intake with a new patient worked better for me without looking at the chart most of the time. It allows an unbiased perspective. I can always read the travel guide (or the chart) right after! The experiential before the conceptual.
Since this is a mindfulness column, I wanted to conclude by packaging a few of my strategies, like ''sustainable traveling tips from Dr G'':
Pack clothes that are light (and that dry easily in case you need to hand-wash), comfortable and that you can combine in various ways. Prioritize colorful accessories including wallets, glasses, phone cover, luggage, in case the hotel furniture and carpets are dark. It makes your belongings easier to spot when you need to pack in a hurry.
Carry at least three pens (in case one dies, or another gets disassembled, like some of mine) and put them in three different, equally accessible locations. Be sustainable and cost-effective. Don't throw away food from the plane (or in general, but especially when you don't know when your next meal will be, or if stores will be closed at your destination), especially the non-perishables (which are not a problem at passport control). Remember my life-saving crackers in the car ride to rural Sweden! I often keep the unused tea bags from the hotel room, and it makes the trip last longer once I can enjoy them back home. Carry plastic utensils in case, a reusable plastic bottle (I clip mine with a carabiner to my day backpack) and a small, airtight plastic container that you can use to store some food items or leftovers. Bring a light reusable bag that you will use for groceries (I brought the Joy of Medicine string bag along; it is light, versatile, practical and meaningful).
When you have access to a bathroom, go use it before leaving the hotel room, restaurant or museum. Once more, even if you just did. In some places, ''toaletts'' (I like the Swedish spelling, it sounds closer to what my kids used to say) can be difficult to find or you might need to pay. I cannot think of many other fundamental human rights than the opportunity to empty one's ''about-to-burst'' bladder in silence and with complete dignity.
And this is going to be an adventure. So be extra Zen, attentive and regulated. Appreciate anonymity, the freedom to start feeling and thinking anew, and the fact that you left your story and persona behind. Use train rides as opportunities to meditate. And if you are an introvert like me, you will need silence and stillness to survive going through the shopping equivalent of Las Vegas, the Duty Free shop at each airport.
Your trip is not going to be made of the same tours or discoveries as your friend, relative or colleague who visited the same place (a certain museum might be closed, or the weather might lead to a cancelation), but everything that happens, a flight delay, even a rhinovirus, is an opportunity to expand our awareness through problem-solving, connections with other fellow human beings, and deep gratitude. Enjoy each moment to the fullest as a perceptive being in a new place. And until next time, Swede dreams!
Read Caroline's blog, Âme Sweet Âme here.
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