Dita Parker

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

It's oh so quiet

It is. And über hot and humid, which spells home and paradise for me, my Southern home; not your typical Scandinavian midsummer. One of my summer sons was born on a very long and dry one, another on a cold and rainy one. You could hardly tell where spring ended and fall began. Such is the weather up here in the northernmost North. Unpredictable.

One thing's for sure. Come visit any major town around midsummer and run into other visitors wondering where everyone is and if maybe Chernobyl blew up all over again and only the locals have been evacuated. An exaggeration maybe, but only a slight one. Visit a suburb and get a definite feel of a fallout heading your way. 

July, or the three to four weeks following the Solstice are The weeks to go on vacation up here. And off people go, for several weeks at a time. Summer cottages, trips abroad, visiting relatives far and wide, tours of the country, Europe, America. We haven't seen most of our neighbors for a while now. You can throw late night garden parties without much bothering anyone. If you can get anyone to attend since no one's home.

I love going downtown in the summer. Everyone's smiling. No one in a hurry. The ever-efficient northerners don't freeze in their tracks in the winter. The cold doesn't stop them from functioning. Give 'em a heatwave and watch them go in slow motion. Finally. But good lucking getting in touch with the head honcho of anything or even meeting friends anywhere. Gone, baby, gone.

As if it weren't quiet enough, we're driving ten hours toward the middle of the country and disappearing into the woods for a week on an estate with a long history by a lake with no name. Definitely out of my usual fare, out of my comfort zone even, and a staple Scandinavian holiday.

And if you never hear from me again, the mosquitoes won the war on mosquitoes. 

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