September 18, 2025, Visby, Gotland- When I was in sixth grade, in 1961-62, our Social Studies focus was on “The Old World”. The class studied certain aspects of each time period, from the beginning of civilization to the Medieval Period. Somehow, the walled city of Visby, on the Swedish island of Gotland, has always stayed in my mind.
When the time came to plan a visit with a long-time friend, who lives in the port of Nynashamn, near Stockholm, I noted that Nynashamn is the mainland ferry connection to Visby, and Gotland. So, a short visit to the walled city was in order. In between days spent with my friend, her husband and children, here I am in the walled, old section of Visby, which is also a modern port and the site of a Swedish military facility.
It took three hours and ten minutes to get here, on generally calm waters-not bad at all for the Baltic Sea, this time of year. A further bonus was that once I got into my room and got organized, the sun came out and the sky pretty much cleared. It was time to check out the walled sections of town.
Boende BnB is around the corner. (It is actually pronounced Bo-EN-dee.)
In the process, I came upon Wisby Hof, an elegant place built into the wall, and which had Schnitzel-“Gotland-style”, so having indulged in other faves, like pizza, tacos and baked fish already this week, Wisby Hof it was, for dinner.
Wisby Hof
After dinner, I looked to see whether there were any places at which one might walk along the top of the roof-as there are on similar structures in places like Old Manila, Luxembourg Ville, or Rennes, the capital if Brittany. The answer is “No”. Looking at the stone that is used to build the wall, I can understand why. It would be problematic to allow the numbers of tourists who come here each year to scale the wall. It also accents the purpose of the wall as a formidable defense, against both seaborne attackers and against Swedish opponents of the Duke of Gotland.
My after-dinner walk went back to the closest church to Boende.
Vardklockans KyrkaThe village that lay protectedEvery narrow street has its story.So does every other narrow street.
Let’s look at the wall itself!
Section of wall being refurbishedTwo of four towers on the wall’s east flankLarge section of wall, between eastern towersRuins of the Churches of St, Hans and St. Per. The towers of these churches were pulled down, in the 1530s, so that their stones could not be used as fodder to bombard Viborg Castle, in Russia. The destruction, however, only got so far. The site is now considered part of Swedish national heritage.Section of wall that protected the Churches of St. Hans and St. Per.
September 16,2025, Nynashamn, Stockholm County- The monitor scratched his head, when I asked where I should tap my card to pay for the train ride from Stockholm to here. “There ought to have been a green gate”, he said quizzically, “but you are here and did not get stopped. It appears you have a free ride.”
This is unusual, but as it turned out, he was correct. No one who looked to be over 65 was charged for the train ride. I will take the bonus. There was likely some point in this journey where I overpaid for transport. Thus, there was a rebate from the Cosmos.
Stockholm, with its ornate buildings, well-curated parks and celebrated heritage, is for now a genial memory. The impossibly crowded hostel of Saturday night became more manageable, almost empty on Sunday night and mildly occupied on Monday. As I checked out of my room and organized my bags, a large group came in. The day manager’s scowl only deepened, but his dissatisfaction with the place and the situation, whatever the cause, can only be helped if he speaks up.
I made it from Radhus Station, about 300 meters from the hostel, to Nynashamn Train Station, in about an hour. There was one Metro Train, a 1/2 mile walk and clear instructions to the commuter train that brought me here. The language may be different, but it is not unintelligible. Besides, there are enough people just about everywhere who can speak English.
Nynashamn is a small city, with my hostel about 2.3 miles from the Train Station. I was let off at the top of a hill, near some apartment buildings. After waiting out the rain by standing under a tree, I asked an apartment maintenance worker where First Camp was. He led me to the trail that took me the rest of the way. I was able to connect with the manager, after ten minutes, and am now the sole guest of First Camp Hostel, for the next day or so.
A walk to Nynashamn’s center led to upholding a tradition-Taco Tuesday! Taco Bar is open and thriving-and while there is no discernible salsa, beans or rice, the tacos and enchiladas are faithful to my expectations. First Camp definitely meets those expectations as well. Time with friends will follow, tomorrow, rain or shine.
September 15, 2025, Stockholm- Beata and Cesar died in each other’s arms, as the “greatest ship” of their time capsized and sank, shortly into its maiden voyage. Cesar served in His Majesty’s Navy and Beata, his wife, was along for the stationment as flagship of the Reserve Fleet guarding the Stockholm Archipelago, in the midst of the Thirty Years War. The warship Vasa, with 64 guns and as many as 250 people aboard, did not make it out of Stockholm Harbour. 50 people went down with the ship that day-August 10, 1628.
A horrified public alerted the King’s Council, as Gustavus Adolphus was in Poland with his commanders, seeing to Sweden’s part in the conflict that had started as a civil war between rival princes of the Holy Roman Empire (essentially modern day Germany and Austria, with parts of northern Italy). France, Denmark, Poland and Russia had taken sides in the conflict. The Swedish king, styling himself a modern-day Augustus Caesar, was not to be left out.
Thus, in 1626, he commissioned the building of Vasa, named for his own royal house. Two years later, the great ship was deemed complete and seaworthy. The king had seen the completed ship with his own eyes, just prior to leaving with his army for Poland. He heartily approved of what he saw, and left the ship to its captain to steer towards the battle front.
The reality was, however, that the great ship was top-heavy, and in short order it became a testimony to the falsity of hubris. Gustavus Adolphus, and the Swedish nation, as great a military power as any of the era, were fighting on several fronts, feeling beleaguered by Catholic forces in Jutland, to the southwest, as well as by Poland and France. The king was therefore impatient to get the Vasa built and underway. Those immediately under him were cowed by the force of his personality, and kept their misgivings about the vessel’s seaworthiness to themselves. Further, an inquest after the ship’s sinking established no culpability in the matter. Vasa’s bronze guns were salvaged, but the ship itself was forgotten for centuries.
In the 1950s, King Gustav VI Adolf, namesake of the ship’s patron, commissioned a salvage operation, which was completed in 1961. Vasa’s hull was found mostly intact, owing to the brackish waters that impeded parasitic damage to the vessel. Its structure is now mounted in a dry dock, for all to see at the Vasa Museum.
Here are some scenes from my visit to Vasa Museum, this afternoon.
Entrance to Vasa Museum
Hull of VasaLion image and air portal on port side of VasaView of Vasa’ s rigging (above and below)Images of Roman soldiersReproductions of colourful images from the sides of VasaGun ports on stern of VasaStarboard side of VasaDepiction of King and his Admiral, being briefed by Shipyard Mistress and her Crew ChiefFull port side view of Vasa, from aboveLifeboat from Vasa
I left the Vasa Museum feeling somber at the massive sense of loss that the Swedish people must have felt in the wake of the capsizing and sinking. It was surely on a scale similar to America’s losses at Pearl Harbor, or the attacks of 9/11/2001. Now, however, the country has chosen to share its great ship with the world. It is a cautionary tale, about hubris and impatience.
The Viking Museum, which I visited after taking lunch in Vasa’ cafeteria, was much more presentational, less graphic. Three docents were on hand to detail different aspects of Viking life. It was pointed out that the term, “Viking” refers to an inhabitant of a vik, or seaport. To that extent, only a fairly small percentage of Norwegians, Danes and Swedes were Vikings. Most were small farmers or inland fishermen.
Docent explains Norse farm lifeModel of a Viking residenceGuide stone, of the sort found at the entrance to a Northern village
After an hour or so of listening to discourses, one of which was almost nonstop for thirty minutes, I took a walk in Djurgarden, the royal public park, east of the Museum Quadrant. This, too, is one of Stockholm’s crown jewels.
Entrance to DjurgardenRiverside in Djurgarden, Stockholm
I walked for about a half mile into the park, along the river, then doubled back to the tram and on back to Nomad Cave. Stockholm’s heritage is engraved in my memory.
September 13, 2025, Stockholm- The small prismatic light showed briefly, against the small cloud. I had not seen a sunbow in many years, but the fact that it was followed by a cloud image of an angel was most comforting and reassuring. Another such prismatic would follow, about twenty minutes later.
I bid farewell to Iceland, around 10:30, and headed for this old and storied colossus of the north. I had achieved a sampler of that crossroads island, finding Reykjavik as cosmopolitan as anywhere I’ve been. There were no Blue Lagoon, Northern Lights or puffin watching, but I did stand on the edge of North America-at least on the edge of its tectonic plate. I did catch a glimpse of Reykjavik’s history, and enjoyed fresh fish. I did get sprayed by the outer mists of a geyser. I did come to appreciate just how hard the people need to work at making life successful there.
Ananada Express got me to central Stockholm in short order. I then had to cast about to find an information booth-eventually meeting with success at the Metro Station, and was able to connect with the receptionist at Nomad Cave Hostel, a couple of times, getting the general location of the facility, taking the right train, getting off at the right stop and with help from a nearby restaurateur, the numerical address of the Hostel itself. The lettering is faded, so it took another phone call to verify the locus.
Once there, I entered the door code (All the lodgings I have booked in Sweden have door codes. They exist elsewhere as well. Iceland’s hostels have them, and there is such a system in San Diego.) Opening the door, and….I stood and readied myself: The stairs downward are immediate, and steep. This is good practice for any encounters I might have with medieval castles, over the next seven weeks. I made it downstairs, bags and all, with no trip-altering tumble. The receptionist processed me and went over the rules-and the two remaining door codes-for the sleeping dorm and for the baggage storage room. Shoes come off at the base of the stairs, so it’s a good thing that I brought my comfy slippers. (I customarily remove street shoes at Home Base I, and in anyone else’s home, so this is no inconvenience.)
The dorm room itself was a sight to behold! There were eleven other people,which I expected. There were eleven other sets of bags, scattered random personal clothing and other items. Every step needs to be made carefully. I placed my bags in the storage room and took out everything I would need for Sunday, putting those items in my in-dorm locker.
There are top and bottom bunks. I got a bottom bunk-“owing to your age”. That’s fair, though I can still climb up in a pinch. The young lady who had the top bunk, for some reason, latched onto me-even to the point that while I was lying in bed awake, she asked me, several times, to stop snoring! I listened for the sound of someone sawing wood and eventually convinced her that the offender was in the next bunk over. She would be leaving early Sunday morning, and so finally relaxed and went to sleep. I followed suit after that. (No, there were no breaches of manners or decorum!)
One last item of note: Meno Male, just down the street from Nomad, is a family-owned pizzeria-with reasonably-sized pies, made with the finest fresh ingredients. This is a true bit of Italy, in the heart of Scandinavia. The love shown by the gregarious owner for her adult daughter is classic Italian. Their warm greeting of “Ciao” and farewell of “Arrivaderci”, for each patron is doubly heartwarming. A cousin of mine and his wife are, as I write this, themselves in Italy, no doubt enjoying the real deal, on the ground. Meno Male would be a regular haunt for me, if I lived here.
Two days and a morning lie ahead for me in this metropolis. I look forward to yet another Old Town and to the great ship, Vaasa.
September 12. 2025, Keflavik, IS- It was rather fortuitous, that today should be the day that I was able to visit the European-American Continental Bridge. Here, near Iceland’s southwestern tip, two tectonic plates are separated by a now slight gap, called the Silfra Fissure, which is widening by a few centimeters each year. Eventually, there will be even more distance between the two continental shelves. https://perlan.is/articles/tectonic-plates-iceland
I engaged the services of a local gentleman, in bridging the gap between my hostel room in the Keflavik suburb of Kellir and Pingvellir National Park, where both the Bridge and active, free-flowing hot springs are located. Here are some scenes of the park:
PIngvellir National Park, IcelandThe geological limit of North America-for nowThis could be the surface of the Moon.An Indian gentleman ran here (from Bengulu).Pingvellir Canyon, with a wealth of volcanic soil.The summit of Pingvellir-EastThe summit of Pingvellir-westThe midpoint of the continental gap.Stay off, and avoid a hot foot!Tapping into the Earth’s might (above and below)Saving on coal
Thus was my last full day in Iceland, for now, proving to be the most auspicious. Mankind has once again seen the fruits of division. Let’s take a lesson from Mother Earth, and show that there can be unity, even as we move through tension.
September 11, 2025, Reykjavik- The transit policeman was not moved by the story that a ticket jumper told, of suffering cell phone glitches. After allowing him four free stops on the westbound bus, he gently but firmly sent the miscreant on his way. (On Icelandic buses, one pays by phone app or by debit card. The young scofflaw could not do so, because he had neither phone app nor card.)
I was headed to the Baha’i National Centre of Iceland, on the far eastern edge of the Capital Region. Somehow, the instructions had me heading south, a mistake that the transit officer helped me correct, with little trouble other than about an hour was spent on the bus that more accurate information in the first place would have been helpful. I got on the bus to which the officer referred me, finding that the new driver had minimal command of English. He did, however, understand the bus route to which I needed to connect, and let me off at the right place. From there, I took Bus #5, found a supermarket near my stop and got directions to the Centre.
The Baha’i National Centre of Iceland is on the second floor of a modest office building, but seeing it from across the road, it felt like I was approaching a palace. The soft-spoken office manager, Badi, was alone and had work left to do, before day’s end, but took forty minutes or so to share the community’s activities and plans, over tea and a Danish croissant. He went through the history of the Faith in Iceland (first established here in 1972) and outlined plans to one day build a House of Worship in a salubrious location that is now known as “the Temple Site”.
The temporary seat of our work in Reykjavik.Badi is a soft-spoken, but genial host.
After this visit, I walked to the spot which Badi had outlined for me on a map, and found the bus driver was headed to downtown Reykjavik. He had an empty bus, so I was a “guest of honour”. This chauffeurage took me steadily westward, past the entry to the Ring Road, which posted “Vik, 177km”. (Vik is a market town in southern Iceland, well to the east of Reykjavik.) He got me as far as the main bus terminal in downtown, and I bid him the best of evenings. From there, it was a six-minute walk to Hi Loft, a short breather and on to a fine dinner of fish soup (more like a thick chowder, but still delectable), at Reykjavik Fish Company.
Despite the rather terse mood in which I found myself, given the two horrible incidents of gun violence in the U.S. yesterday and the commemoration of the tragedy that took place 24 years ago today, the day ended up being well-spent. No intense exploration of scenic wonders, but spiritual sustenance became the order of the day.
September 10,2025, Reykjavik- One one side of Laugarnes Recreation Area, the last remaining natural preserve on the north side of Reykjavik’s bay, there is a large collection of items that would not look out of place in Corner Brook’s Rock Art Wall or any number of back yard “personal treasure” collections around the world, from Spain to Vancouver Island and from Nigeria to the Philippines-or so stories claim. It is the Recycled House.
A scant 100 yards away is the Museum of Soren West and Sigurjon Olafsson, featuring the works of two intrepid artists of the mid-Twentieth Century- workers in stone and metal (West); stone and wood (Olafsson). Olafsson worked for a time with the Danish Resistance to Nazi occupation. Homesick for his wife, he returned to his native south Iceland and was an invaluable source of information to the British and American forces who kept the island safe from the Axis Powers. West has been focused solely on the promulgation of sculpture, having grown up in Denmark, in a relatively more peaceful time. He has been an intensely influential figure in teaching the medium, especially on his home island of Fyn.
The two very different museums co-exist with one another and are careful not to overlap one another’s collections onto the other’s property. Here are a few scenes of each. I first went around the grounds of the Recycled House.
No one gets past him! Note that the lith, overlooking the Bay and this “watchman” are perfectly aligned, as to the western border of the property.These “backyard guardians” of the Olafsson Museum show the same sense of order.The demarcation line.It’s amazing what one can do with cast-off metal.Nothing gets tossed out here.
Here is the house itself:
There is even an “observation Chair”.Many are the watchmen!Hrafn Gunnlaugsson lives in this house. He was the director of “The Raven Flies” and other films about Viking life in his native Iceland.
Now let us turn to the pieces in the more conventional museum.
If this figure looks like he’s thinking, it’s because Sigurjon Olafsson probably WAS deep in thought, while crafting it.Here’s a piece by Soren West,showing a whale spouting, or at least that’s how I interpret it. Soren West just calls it “Skulptur”.Here are two wooden pieces, one mahogany and the other, fir. Both represent balance.
By now, I was getting exhausted. I had walked as far as the small ferry terminal, which sends boats to the islet of Videy, across the short channel, while waiting for the Olafsson Museum to open.
Here, then, are a few more scenes of the afternoon.
A view of the “Visitor Center” at Videy, (Vih-DAY), using a Zoom lens from the opposite shore. Even if I had wanted to squeeze in a short ferry ride, the captain was done for the day. This was as close as I was going to get. The mountain in the background is Esja(EsYA), also across a channel from Videy.
I did squeeze in a Volcano Express, virtual reality ride, at Harpa Performance Center. Here is a look at the Center. The ride? Trust me, there was a “whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on”, and we were all strapped in.
Harpa Performance Center, Reykjavik
My overall image of Reykjavik and its residents is summed up by this master work of a graffiti artist who immigrated here about five years ago.
Icelanders, old and new, are thriving by learning to live with the volatile nature of their island home, and putting it to use. (Thermal energy heats homes and purifies water).
September 10, 2025, Reykjavik- There was no trip to Akureyri, in northern Iceland. The taxi which was to pick me up at 8:15, and bring me to the bus terminal, was stuck in a traffic jam on the east side of town. Yes, even little Reykjavik has rush hours. The road system built during World War II has yet to upgrade and adjust to the doubling of the number of drivers in the Metro Area. There are now 249,000 people, in the Capital Region of Iceland, 138,000 of whom live within “Reyk”‘s city limits.
So, the flustered taxi driver showed up at 9:06. By then, the bus had left for Akureyri. The next one would have put me there at-11:45 p.m. I called and let them know I would not be coming. The energy is more for me to stay in the Capital Area-Reykjavik and Keflavik, on this visit. If this is the only change in plans during this journey, I will be fortunate. I then asked him to go to HI Loft, a hostel near downtown.
It was a lovely morning, with a break in the rain, and fair skies, in fact. I left my bags at HI Loft and headed to the waterfront. Reykjavik’s Baywalk covers areas east and west along the sea front. I walked as far as the ferry stop that takes people to Videy, a small islet between east Reykjavik and Esja, the capital’s “Neighbourhood Mountain”. While Esja itself is enticing, it is a focus for another time. There was much to captivate me along the Baywalk.
Here are some scenes from the downtown waterfront and the Laugarnes recreation area, in northeast Reyk. I started out at a government office building, just west of the park which honours Reykjavik’s founder.
National Government Office Building, downtown Reykjavik.
Random sculptures appear around town. This one is an abstract of a milk maid, near a very old Kaffehus. I stopped in there and got a cup of green tea, to counter a heavy dose of acidic foods and drinks, these past few days.
This is Ingolfr Arnarson, who led the first settlers in Reykjavik, in 874. He named the place (Reykjavik means “smoke cove”, in Old Norse), as the smoke from distant volcanoes was visible as the party approached. A dragon and the Norse god Odinn are included in the sculpture.
Reykjavik is, understandably, a major draw for cruise ships. Here is one that is given the old name for northern Norway’s Svalbard: Spitsbergen. Longyearbyen is that territory’s capital and only port. It is a name that befits both places.
Cruise ship, “Spitsbergen”, in Reykjavik Harbour
Sculptures continued to be placed, along the Baywalk. Here is one that replicates Solfario, a model of a Viking ship.
Yes, there was a bus parked here this morning. The scene was different in mid-afternoon.Solfario, on a cloudy mid-afternoon in Reykjavik Harbor.
In between these two visits to Solfario (Sun Voyager), I spent time at two very different neighbouring properties: Recycled House and a small sculpture museum that celebrates the work of Sigurjon (Sih-GUR-yon) Olafsson and Soren West (pronounced Vest). I will discuss these attractions, and the sliver of trail that takes one to Videy ferry terminal, in the next post.
September 9, 2025, Reykjavik- It turns out that my trusty laptop had had its screen light minimized. I walked about the north side of this bustling Icelandic capital and found the computer store that had been recommended to me by the manager of HI Dalur, where I am spending the night.
So, here we both are, giving you the skinny on the first night and day of Europe 2025. Let’s go back a bit:
Home Stretch- Yesterday morning, as I left HB 1, wearing my bush hat and sunscreen, the three neighbour kids lined up and greeted me from their yard. Dad was in the background, saying “Don’t bother him!” Those precious little ones will never be a bother.
After a short walk over to Yavapai College, I was picked up by the shuttle to Sky Harbor International Airport. Mentor: A gregarious gentleman from Saskatchewan was my seatmate, after joining the group at Hampton Inn. Turned out, he was also going to Calgary and had lived in Sweden, one of the cornerstones of my time on this side of the Atlantic. He corroborated my agenda in that country and in Denmark. He also saw me to the right counter for West Jet, a carrier well-known in Canada, but less so in the Southwest U.S. For good measure, he “talked me into” not using my TSA special access number; I wouldn’t have been able to use it,anyway, as we were there before the quick processing line opened-and few people were processing at that time.
Snags: The bugbear of modern travelers is the plethora of electrical outlets that don’t work. They are in airports and cheap motels, as well as ferry boats and some national parks (though not many people go to those for the WiFi). Trains tend not to have WiFi at all, at least in the United States (though that is supposed to change next year.) I will see, next week, how much progress European train stations and cars have made, in connectivity. We got that settled, as mentioned above.
Language: Everyone on the plane spoke English (They were Canadians, Captain O! ) Everyone here, so far, speaks English, also. Some of the hostel workers speak it better than I. All those who I encountered this afternoon, including a couple of very well-dressed ladies, took the time to corroborate the concierge’s route map.
Sights Seen: Here are a few small gems seen in the Dalur and Laugarnes precincts.
Keflavik International Airport (Okay, so not at the northern edge of Reykjavik). It was the first thing that caught my eye here.Dalur’s Reykjavik Camp Ground.Reindeer near a forest preserve, Laugardalur, ReykjavikThermal healing venue, Nautholsvik, ReykjavikLaughursdal Lutheran Community
I leave you with the notion that this people, the increasingly diverse community that makes up Reykjavik is among the most dedicated to kindness and helpfulness found anywhere.
September 7,2025- There is much that I will miss about Home Base I, during the next seven weeks.
“It’s raining!”, the lady said, as she passed me on the sidewalk, this morning. It was not raining, so maybe her comment was sparked by my bush hat, which was meant (along with sunscreen) to guard my face and neck from UV rays. Such silliness is rare in Prescott, these days. Most people with whom I am even mildly acquainted have wished me safe travels, on the journey that starts tomorrow and will end the last week of October. There is much to be done, in those seven weeks. There are those who see it as an extended vacation-even though I am no longer working for wages, save a few chosen gigs in the schools. There are others who are confused when I say I will see them in two months, probably because they themselves just returned from a long trip. Most, though, have encouraging comments to offer.
I had a pleasant conversation with several fellow American Legionnaires at our usual breakfast this morning. Some are planning their own trips, across the U.S. and down to Mexico. Most will keep the home fires burning.
Another visit, to a couple who had recently gone on a night photography trip to the Navajo Nation, gave me an opportunity to see just how striking the Milky Way is, relative to the great monadnock ( single monolith rising from a surrounding plain) called Ship Rock. I have observed that sacred place many times, and photographed it from a fair distance. Our galaxy’s stars are most visible at night, from a southwest angle. In order to view it, one must be accompanied by a Dineh (Navajo) guide. This is what my friends did, and they had a great time. They were not among the recent travelers who seemed confused by my farewell. They have been to many of the places on my itinerary and wished me well.
A sizable group came to the last event of the day- a Spiritual Feast, which I was honoured to host, at the home of other friends. We had a lengthy and fruitful consultation about several matters. Then, most of the friends also wished bon voyage. The spiritual feast, a Baha’i institution, is always more special when a large group takes part. It is even more special when the assemblage takes on the nature of changes that are engulfing society, and works at discerning those events and processes that proffer good from those that bring ill. Our mission is to promulgate the good in individuals and in communities.
So, after all that, I have readied my backpack, and will have enough time tomorrow to pack my carry-on, by rising early. There will plenty of time to doze off, on the shuttle to Phoenix.
There is much that I will miss about Home Base I, and much that I will treasure about the places that lie ahead.
A Sagittarian Seeker 