I’m a city girl.
I like skyscrapers, bright lights and commotion. I leave my windows open because the sounds of muffled drunken laughter and car horns traveling up the sides of my building help me fall asleep. Being no more than fifteen minutes from anything I could possible need – groceries, clothing stores, auto repair, emergency center – is comforting to me.
Being in the middle of Swedish countryside is out of my element.
The winding dirt roads lead into lush, vibrant green rolling hills hiding small villages and shops. There are animal and produce farms tucked away a couple kilometers off the main road. In the morning, the fog lifts slowly over the roofs of sleepy cottages sprinkled throughout the villages to reveal the brightly painted houses each adorned with a Swedish flag out front.
The water in the Mjölkeviken is so still and untouched, it looks like glass. Even a whisper echoes off the rocky cliffs concealing the bay, which is also surrounded by forests
It’s about a thirty-minute drive into the next biggest town, Kungälv. It’s an hour to a major city, Göteborg. It’s so peaceful here that it puts me slightly on edge. I look out the kitchen windows and there is nothing but darkness, not even lights from the neighboring cottages. There is no noise outside except for Minerva (McGonnagall, duh) the cat meowing to be let inside.
I hear wine is great at calming nerves. Did I mention it’s $14USD for two bottles of decent wine? Perhaps the silence won’t keep me up too late tonight after all.