Etikett: motorhome travel

Read this post in Swedish

Preface
Some days stay with you, like pearls on a string. This is one of them. A day that began with rain and grey skies, and ended in deep reflections, play in the waves, and a troubadour singing for a scattered crowd. Here’s my story from our last day before heading home – written just as it happened.

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From rain to sunshine – the day took a turn

Yesterday began with clouds, rain, and wind. However, by late morning, the sun broke through, bringing back the warmth. Despite the gloomy start, we had breakfast outside. Somehow, food always tastes better outdoors – even the driest toast becomes delicious. That’s how it is, at least in my world.

Even before the sun appeared, my husband and I took a walk down to the lake – just to see it.

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Photos, swims and dancing waves

My husband had bought a new camera lens, which sparked his creativity. I’ll try to include some of his photos here – let’s see how that goes.

Once the sun came out, we couldn’t resist the water. I lost count of how many times I swam – but it was a lot. One of the swims was from a rocky outcrop with a ladder into the lake. The wind had stirred up fairly large waves, and it took effort to descend without being tossed against the rocks. Still, what a swim it was! The movement felt like a full-body workout. Surprisingly, Lake Vänern was warm.

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Sitting on the ground – and getting back up again

In the afternoon, our daughter arrived with little Alfred and her partner. My husband took charge of the grill, and as usual during camping trips, the food tasted amazing. Since we only have three chairs, my daughter and I made do by sitting on the ground.

Now, being 60 years old with a stiff hip and aching back, getting up again wasn’t my most elegant moment. It probably looked quite amusing. Yet with a bit of help from my daughter, I managed just fine.

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Playing in the waves – childlike joy

Later, when the others went grocery shopping, Alfred stayed with us. So he and I went down to the lake again – this time under heavy clouds and even bigger waves. We swam and played in the water for over an hour. Bathing with children changes everything – it’s not just about swimming; it’s about adventure. Together, we chased waves and explored the shoreline. By the time we got out, my fingers had turned purple-blue with cold – but I was still smiling.

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Bruno the dog, dishwashers and the best eggs ever

After they left, my husband and I went to do the dishes. This campsite has one of those super-fast dishwashers – two minutes and you’re done. What a luxury!

Earlier that morning, we had seen Afghan families having breakfast by the sinks. One woman was cooking a traditional egg dish called Tokhm-e-tomato – eggs fried with onion, tomato sauce, and Middle Eastern spices. It smelled absolutely wonderful. I tapped her gently on the shoulder and told her – this is one of the tastiest things I’ve ever eaten.

Later on, we met a man from another Middle Eastern country who told us he had owned a restaurant and used the exact same kind of dishwasher. I mentioned that my husband and I had looked into buying one ourselves, though it’s a bit bulky and expensive for a regular home. Still – imagine getting your kitchen cleaned in just two minutes!

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Respect in the small moments – when hearts want to speak

I stood a few steps behind her. The scent of the food lingered in the air while she focused silently over the frying pan. I wanted to say so much. Over the years, I’ve worked with many boys from her part of the world – boys who arrived in Sweden alone. And I always carried the image of a mother far away – perhaps someone like her – cooking, worrying, hoping.

In my work, I tried to offer those boys what I believed she would have wanted for them: dignity, safety, care, and deep respect.

I wanted to thank her – not just her, but all the women I’ve never met yet still carry in my heart. I wanted to say: I saw your sons. I listened. I tried to be worthy of your trust.

But I stayed quiet. I hesitated, unsure if we would understand each other. Maybe that was a mistake. Sometimes, it doesn’t take perfect words. A smile. A hand on the shoulder. A simple presence. That’s often enough.

People talk about culture clashes. But not here. Not on this campsite. Here, we shared meals, stories, swims, and dishwashing tips. Here, we were just people.

If only we could take that simplicity with us – into society, into our politics, into our everyday encounters. What if we led with curiosity instead of fear, and respect instead of suspicion?

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Evening music and a soft goodbye

That evening, there was live music at the bar. Not many people showed up – perhaps because of the weather. A troubadour gave it his all, trying to capture the audience. He was good – had a nice voice and plenty of witty remarks between songs. But most of us were busy socializing.

Still, I appreciated his effort. It added something to our last night here.

This post turned out a bit different. But these are my words, from our final day at the lake. Tomorrow, we pack up and drive home – to celebrate my mother-in-law who turns 81 today. She’s one of the kindest souls I know.

Then it’s back to work for my husband for a week – and after that, two more weeks of spontaneous camper freedom. We don’t know where we’re going yet. And that’s exactly the beauty of it – the freedom to just go.

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What do you think?

• Have you ever sat on the ground at 60 – and needed a hand getting up?
• Have you experienced warm encounters across cultural boundaries?
• What’s your most memorable camping moment?

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Reflection

Sometimes, the most powerful bridges are built quietly – with a glance, a plate of food, a shared laugh. That’s where humanity lives.

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“Live today – right now. Yesterday rests in history, and tomorrow waits out there in the distance. What matters is now.” – Carina Ikonen Nilsson

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