Things have started for real now. I’ve had lectures and met my new classmates. Girls, most of them, from all over the world. They seem to be a fun bunch of people. And Stockholm Resilience Centre seems like an intimate and innovative place where people can get the chance to grow. It feels like this is going to become a very nice two years of master’s studies, it really does.
But I’ve also been to the geoscience building, being greeted and hugged by so many people that I strongly, so strongly felt that I didn’t want to leave. Old geography classmates, student council folk, Tarfala classmates and other odd acquaintances that I’ve picked up over the years. It is a friendly place, and I’ve been so involved there, there are so many memories contained within those concrete and glass walls. And I feel I’ve been appreciated. It is a place where my quirks and irregularities have come to good use. The geoscience building at Stockholm University is really a place where I feel I belong – both socially, intellectually and physically (I love the light that all those huge windows give! I don’t mind the cold, not with my huge supply of knitted pieces of clothing). It feels sad, officially not being a part of that anymore.
I will probably keep on spending a lot of time there, on reading days – sitting in the library and just happen to go down to the lunch room at around noon to see if there are any nice people there to share a meal with.
But. I was supposed to tell you about the end of the Tarfala course. I was supposed to tell you several days ago already, but, you see, I had a lot of sleep to catch up on. All through the weekend, I was so exhausted that I could barely get out of bed. Well, yeah, so, here goes – better late than never.
At lunchtime, to get a break from the fieldwork and the writing, we went on walks.
In the small pond-like gathering of water below Isfallsglaciären, we found these beautiful polygons. Probably rain water that had fallen on this clay-y silt – a very sticky silt, as it turns out. We stood there, stamping our feet, seeing the dry-seeming silt slowly liquefy and our boots slowly disappearing deeper and deeper into the soil. Too late, I realised I had taken the game too far – I could simply not get the silt to loosen its grip on my boots. Johan had to pull me out. That’s what happens when you play with wet silt.
I get this urge, sometimes, and it is hard to quell. In the middle of the meltwater jokk from Isfallsglaciären, standing on a stone with the other at (what I thought was) a safe distance, I started singing. Some Dobrogosz gospels, a Swedish folksong or two. With all this magnificence around me, it was impossible not to. It was liberating and cleansing.
Afterwards, Christoffer told me they had been listening to me, down there by the lake. Johan said that I had been quite loud. Oh, well. I’m pretty sure they thought I was kind of queer already, so. At least I got to sing.
After dinner one evening, we had cricket practice. Every year, there’s a cricket game between Tarfala Research Station and Kebnekaise Tourist Station, and we were all part of this year’s team, supposed to defend Tarfala’s honor.. It was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. Balls and having to hit them, be it with my foot or a bat or a racket has always scared me. But some of my classmates were really good. I guess it’s time to leave that childish fear behind and accept my poor sporting skills as they are, and just enjoy the game.
We got some sunny days too, warm enough for some crazy people to undress and sit outside by the mess building, sheltered from the wind, getting a tan while writing on their reports.
On Sunday, we hiked over the mountain to Kebnekaise Tourist Station for the cricket game.
Crossing the Storglaciären meltwater jokk was no easy task. We had to build our own temporary bridge with rocks and an old plank. Johan, always the gentleman, stood on the other side of the very unstable bridge, making sure everyone got over safely.
The hike went past an ice cave.
And the view of Tarfala valley was, as always, amazing.
At the top of the ridge, everyone gathered to look at the view. Perfect spot for a group photo, using the self-timer. So, there we are, all of us, top row from the left: me, Daniel, Christoffer, Erik, Elin, Johan, Robert and Kajsa. Kneeling: Sandra, Gisela, Sara and Emilie. Great group. Really great group.
The climb down was steep. Scary steep. But, I don’t know, this time I didn’t mind. Going down doesn’t for some reason feel as serious.
The cricket field at Kebnekaise Tourist Station. Not the ideal place to play cricket, to be sure, but it was beautiful.
Tarfala teammates waiting to bat.
It didn’t go very well for us. We lost against the mountain guides and other outdoorsy jocks at from Keb. Not very surprising really, considering the Tarfala team consisted of science geeks. Annoying, all the same.
Afterwards, Keb treated us to an incredibly luxurious dinner, with salad and everything! Having lived on the very good, but still very fresh vegetable poor food at Tarfala for almost two weeks, this was such a treat. Despite the loss, I felt it was my duty to interact with the Kebnekaise people, so I sat down at a table with only strangers and had a really nice time, hearing them talk about the mountains in the area, how silly some tourists can be and just being amazed at just how outdoorsy some people can be. Across the table from me sat a young, incredibly beautiful guy who shared his beer with me and after having come over a very endearing shyness, started telling me about the wonders of physics, his eyes shining like stars. He wanted to understand how things work, and his innocent excitement was very catching. In another context, had I been a couple of years younger, he might very well have been the perfect man. A physicist and a mountaineer. With that lovely, soft, northern Swedish accent. Where can I find men like that in Stockholm?
All in all, it was a very nice evening, and I didn’t get to bed until after 2, last of all the Tarfala people. I think I did a good job, defending Tarfala’s honor as valiant losers, if not better athletes.
The lecture hall at Tarfala Research Station.
It is an incredibly beautiful place, Tarfala. The changeable weather and the dramatic landscapes makes it impossible to get bored. I would love to go back there some day, preferably sooner than later.
Leaving was rough. Literally. We got up at four and started walking through the rain, before it had gotten really light yet. I couldn’t think, and had to put all my concentration into keeping my feet moving.
When we got down below the treeline, autumn had arrived without us noticing it. The colors had shifted into yellows and there was something in the air, that faint, soft smell of decay.
In a way, going down felt just as tough as walking up. 23 kilometers is always 23 kilometers, I guess. And with only a couple of hours of sleep in me (obviously, we had to do the full, proper evening routine at the station our last night there, with sauna and jokk swimming and tea in the common room afterwards – I didn’t get into bed until almost midnight), I hurt all over when we arrived at the Nikkaluokta tourist station.
Shower and lunch, and then the noon bus came and picked us up. I fell asleep on Johan’s shoulder. When we arrived in Kiruna at the train station, and he nudged me to wake me up, I felt even more lost. I think the bus driver could have continued all the way to Stockholm, just as well. I was very comfortable where I was (even though, I suspect Johan wouldn’t’ve agreed with me). The train ride was comfortably spent playing cards, watching movies and eating sandwiches, chips and sweets, and when it was time to crawl up into my train compartment bed, I fell asleep instantly and didn’t wake up until we were half an hour from Stockholm. Now I know 23 hours of hiking is what’s required to make me able to sleep on a train!
I’ve been back in the city for almost a week now. To start with, it felt strange. I took a walk with Hanna on Södermalm and was almost frightened by all the hip people just, like, existing, being perfect and composed and cool. There, I wanted back up into the mountains, where hiking boots and a little mud on your sleeve is all you need to fit in. But eating leftover apricots with Natalia, starting to watch Homeland with Lina in the evenings and planning dinners with Kirke soon quenched the longing and I fell pretty content. I’m where I ought to be, spending my days with the people that make me happy.
Yesterday, I met up with Hannes at the university campus after my last lecture, and after some time sitting outside on the grass, drinking the late summer sun, we decided to go in and crash the new master-students-at-the-physical-geography-department-mixer. Lina was there, having just started the hydrology master, and Johan too (my old Tarfala classmate and Lina’s new hydrology classmate). There was cheap beer and carrot sticks and when everyone else had gone and we were the only ones left, I just simply didn’t feel done with the evening. Neither did the others. So, we ended up taking the tube to Bergshamra, stopping by Johan’s to pick up a bottle of rosé and beer, and going to some cliffs by a lake. The water was completely still, except from when a couple of kayakists paddled by, and even though the sun pretty soon went down behind the buildings and trees on the other side of the lake, the slow darkening of the sky developed into a beautiful show of colors. I just couldn’t not swim. It wasn’t really cold, just a little biting on the skin.
Once it got too dark and too cold to stay on the cliff, we returned to Johan’s and he made luxury hot coco for us. Sitting there, with the cold of the lake slowly leaving my body through the hot and sweet chocolate, I thought that this must be one of those perfect evenings. With the perfect friends. Hannes, who never makes me doubt myself. Lina, the best roomie a girl could ever ask for. And this completely new acquaintance, Johan, who makes hot coco for you after a late summer evening swim. A definite keeper.
If this is how this autumn term is going to be like, I can’t wait for it to get properly started.
Katja Malmborg 