When it became clear to myself that I might actually be doing this trip, I contacted a pair of Belgians who recently moved to Northern Sweden. They were available on the dates I’d pass by, so one night my tent sat itself down on their lawn..
Unfortunately, my visit was really short, not more than one evening. The next day I would pass the border to Finland. I took a detour down Gammelstad, sort of like ‘Bokrijk’ for Belgians.
I hadn’t really a big plan of what to do. There was time. Limited, but time. Norway was rumbling in my head. Midnight Sun Film Festival was. Nature, wherever, whatever. One Swede tipped me about Lofoten… I could, right?
Along the route a green jacket flashed by, together with a not-so-happy face. I was thinking. Turned around. Got back. Told him to get in.
‘t Was an anti-many pro-hmmmm German on his way to protest the building of a nuclear reactor. Conversation was difficult. His English is kind of German. My German is kind of bad. But laughs were had and company is good.
I dropped him off in Ii.
Yes, Ii. A town not many Swedish miles from Oulu. I met up with a Finnish friend, let’s call her M, who I met in Madrid. Small world.
I could stay over for a few days in all kinds of luxury. Warm room, a bed, kitchen with food, sauna… Hesburger?
Beats having wet clothes and smelling.
We also visited Oulu and sorta danced through the night.
Due to shitty planning on my part I didn’t get to meet my hard-rocking Oululainen amigo T. known from the famous Hangöverizer.