Sun shines in Stockholm.
We have our differences with car GPS, it thinks that I’m driving in the river and on a field. Looks like I forgot to change Eastern European map for Western European one. So I have to decide in a long tunnel which way to go based on my non-existent Swedish geography knowledge. I choose well.
Rushing south, pressed between Swedes. Surprisingly a lot of trees and forest by the road, only some clear-cut areas. Fields are nicely separated with forested hillocks and thickety ditches. Along the day hills grow bigger. Under moss dark rock becomes visible. People here have managed to drive over numerous foxes. It starts to rain, behind hanging grey shreds is dark blue cloud. In gas stations are efficient eateries.
The only wrong driving move happens two kilometers before reaching accommodation and results in ten penalty kilometers. The hotel is in a building that used to be Jonsered’s textile and saw factory. Chairs and cups are old.
I go to check out a forest path next door. The forest is nice. Big trees, big rock, anthill, traces of horse and horse manure. Only rain interferes with the arrangements.
Google says that the only place open for dinner is a pizza place. The pizza-maker seems to be an immigrant and speaks painstakingly Swedish with me. My knowledge is enough to get pizza and beer. Local old men are drinking beer and discussing world affairs. Big screen on the wall shows football.