I was supposed to go to the natural history museum with Christoffer today, but waiting there by the main entrance in the sun, that still felt like the warm summery kind, I just couldn’t make myself go in to the dark halls with stone displays and dinosaur bones. So when Christoffer arrived, I convinced him to cross the highway and go to the Bergianska botanical garden instead.

It was an amazing afternoon, warm like it was still summer, and there were even flowers still in bloom.

I only had my phone to take photos with, so the beauty of the garden doesn’t really show, but really, walking down by the lake, with kayakers paddling by and flower beds full with ferns. The Stockholm botanical garden has nothing to be ashamed of.

The waterlily house, humid and fragrant.

In the orchard, the apple trees heavy with fruit, we laid down on the grass in the sun, watching the dragonflies come and sit on my colorful Liberian skirt. I could have staid there for hours, smelling the air, sweet from the fallen apples decomposing in the grass, but I had places to be and too soon, we picked up our stuff and went back to the tube.

It was a very nice early autumn afternoon, in a lush and pretty botanical garden. Trust me, I know botanical gardens.

Yesterday I came home from university and felt like I needed to do something practical, after a week of lectures about the state of the world’s ecosystems and the climate system and everything else that’s essential for our life here on Earth (really crappy, the state of everything, apparently – not that I didn’t know before, it’s just depressing to hear it so bluntly put several days in a row in slightly different ways). I needed to do something useful. So I decided to start cleaning the bathroom.

And once I started, there were so many other things I could do. Half way through the bathroom cleaning, I went outside to shake out the rugs – it’s incredible how much dust there can be in a rug. And while I was doing the bathroom rugs, I thought I might as well do the other rugs.

And my bed cover quilt.

Back in the bathroom, while cleaning the toilet, Lina walked by and maybe she felt bad for letting me clean all by myself, because she asked me if I wanted some wine.

And seriously, guys. Wine and bathroom cleaning turned out to be such a hit that I honestly can’t understand why I haven’t thought of it before. Crawling around on my knees, scrubbing away the dust from the pipes behind the toilet just became so much more fun when the room wasn’t completely level and the floor not really still. Lina stayed, sitting on the floor by the door and then Natalia arrived for our tv show night, got a glass of wine and joined Lina on the floor, keeping me constantly laughing in my yellow rubber gloves and apron, on my knees on the blue plastic floor.

Cleaning has never been as fun, and it’s been a long time since our bathroom was this clean.

 

As long as I am concerned, if someone tags the grey tube carriage wall with a purple marker in Arabic, I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.

(It could say something very offensive, though. I have no clue. In case it does, I apologize.)

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.

 

So now I’m lying in the top bed in the sleeping compartment on the train bound for Stockholm. Just a short while ago, we stopped in Umeå. I’m incredibly tired. It’s been a very long day. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.

I haven’t written anything for a couple of days. We’ve had lots of things to do. I’ll tell you about them tomorrow too.

When we arrived with the bus in Kiruna, I got cellphone reception for the first time in two weeks. Already I’ve made almost-dates with Natalia, Hanna, Frida&Marita&Jocke and Hannes. My need right now is so strong I waste no time.

Hopefully, I’ll sleep more tonight than last time. I have to be presentable tomorrow, when I meet my new master’s classmates for the first time. Nighty night.

During the last couple of days, we’ve started playing a game called the foot game in the evenings. It was Christoffer who introduced it, and it is very simple. The person who starts touches her foot to one of the feet of the person standing next to her in the circle. This person then has to move that touched foot and touch it to one of the feet of the next person in the circle. And on it goes. Pretty soon, the circle has disappeared and people are just standing in a huge, human knot of feet and hands holding on to each other to keep their balance. When you fall, you’re out.

It is a great game to break the ice in a group of people that don’t really know each other. You can’t really be stiff and shy while hanging on to someone’s shoulder to keep your balance at the same time as helping someone else not to fall by holding on to their wrist. You have to talk, ask for help and, above all, laugh.

In this case, though, I don’t think the ice breaking was really necessary. We’ve been here for more than a week, spending almost every waking hour together as a group, sharing meals and sauna and sore feet. Still, we end up playing it almost every night. I think people have started to miss the physical contact they might have access to at home. Boyfriends and girlfriends that you can’t even call here, because there’s no cellphone reception and the wi-fi only works if the weather is feeling lenient.

Under the disguise of a game, we can get our need of closeness to another human being satisfied without it becoming ackward. The lengths we go to to be close.

I don’t have a significant other to miss back home. I’ve realised, though, how dependent I’ve become of Lina. Having someone at home who is just around, someone to tell all the small things to, who doesn’t think you’re petty or bitter or annoying, because she knows there are other sides to you as well. Someone to just give a spontaneous hug.

It’s good to be away. You realise what you’ve got at home.

When we woke up this morning, the mountainsides had white contours. It had been snowing, and just about when breakfast was over and it was time for us to go out into the field again, it started again. I spent hours walking around on the wet and slippery moraine, looking for the biggest lichen, trying to compensate for the sudden wind bursts of tiny, wet snowflakes. It felt like being in the middle of a freezing cold desert sand storm with large grains of sand filling the air.

Getting back to the station felt like such a wonderful reward. I’ve never felt more deserving, sitting on a comfortable chair in the warm common room with a cup of hot coco in my hands.

There is a family of seagulls living in Tarfala valley. There’s small fish in Tarfala lake, so I guess they’ve got enough to eat here. But still. It feels strange. Hearing those seagull cries in the evenings, so distinctive of the coast, feels out of place and weird. I wonder how they found their way here, over the mountains. If they got lost, and then decided to stay.

We also get visits from reindeer from time to time. Shy animals walking up the valley on the other side of the jokk. Such a picturesque sight, the reindeer, the valley glaciers and mountains.

When I was having kitchen duty tonight, though, a reindeer strolled past the kitchen window. Stopping to eat, looking around, relaxed and carefree. I only had my phone, and had to take the picture through the kitchen window, but you can still kind of make it out among the stones.