Kirkwall, the capital of Orkney, was an odd place. We lived there, in a hotel with wonderful rooms and the most amazing breakfast, but with a facade and a floorplan that didn’t all feel like a hotel’s. And that was kind of the feeling I got of Kirkwall as well. All the grey houses and the wind made it feel bare and abandoned – but once you looked into places, like the café where we had cream tea, most things were just wonderful. It was as if the extreme weather meant that people saved their coziness and friendliness for inside, while the outside was kept grey and bare – because the island weather would only peel it off anyway.
The main shopping street in Kirkwall. Narrow, but still occationally frequented by cars, and bordered by cute little shops.
On the street parallell to the main street. Grey.
The houses behind the Kirkwall Hotel. Also grey.
Kirkwall did have a cute little library though, with a good collection of Swedish and Finnish children’s books (Astrid Lindgren and Tove Jansson) and Swedish crime novels of doubtful quality (Camilla Läckberg and Stieg Larsson).
The sun going down, seen from the Kirkwall harbour. The wind turbines creating a hopeful skyline – at least for me.
Katja Malmborg 