Travels Continued 5

TUESDAY, JANUARY 20, 2015
The Between Days in Verona and Padua

Sweden has a great concept and term called “Mellandagarna” or “Between Days” for the week between Christmas and New Year’s.  It is generally assumed that everyone is on vacation during this period; my office even officially closes.

Carl and I spent the Between Days stopping in Verona and Padua between our main destinations of Val Gardena (see previous entry below) and Venice.

Both Verona and Padua were Roman cities, but that layer of history is much more obvious in Verona with its Roman theater and arena.

Most of the exterior shell of Verona's arena was torn down and reused elsewhere in the city.  Carved marble stairs.

I was impressed with Verona’s ambitions to show even the invisible evidence of its Roman and early Christian history, and throughout the city there were glass panels in the sidewalks and roads protecting but revealing archeological digs and finds.  The foundations of churches have also been excavated, and I was fascinated to see floors of even earlier churches (from the 300s!) revealed below today’s floor, and then Roman temple mosaics below the early Christian floors.  It seems that in the New World, the modern Church refuses to believe/admit that the colonial Church purposefully built its churches upon existing temples in order to stamp out heathenism.  However, in Verona, the church not only admits but displays the fact that the structures were built upon existing pagan temples.  

Saint Elena's church in the Cathedral complex with its layers of churches and temples

The layers of Verona’s history is also visible in its street grid.  Built in a sharp bend of the river, the Roman city had a perfectly rectilinear street grid with the ovular Arena and the rectangular forum forming two open landmarks within the grid.  Today, the street grid is still “readable,”

but it has mutated and softened over the millennia.

The blocks have become less perfectly square, diagonal streets have been created, secondary alleys have bisected the blocks, and the rectangular forum has mutated to a diamond form.

Once a rectangular Roman forum, Piazza della Erbe now has a medieval character.

Being the archi-dork and urban-planning-dork that I am, I am completely fascinated by how the Roman groundwork has survived and mutated over two thousand years.

I also really enjoyed seeing slightly more recent layers of Romanesque history visible in Verona’s churches as well as Gothic details visible in Verona’s facades

and in its churches.

Church of St. Anastasia.  I have seen similar ceilings in other churches, but those ceilings were painted in the 1800's in imitation of gothic ceilings.  This ceiling is the real deal.

Continuing my layering theme, I thought it was also really cool that in several churches, you could see several layers of murals, the newest being from the 1400's.

Basilica of San Zeno

 
You can definitely tell that Verona was a prosperous city up until the 1400’s or so but that it lost its wealth before the 1500’s due to its almost complete lack of Renaissance details.  The major exception to this is the interior of Verona's cathedral.  While pure Romanesque on the exterior, the interior was re-frescoed during the Renaissance.  These trompe l'oeil frescoes turn the moderate apse into a "what the..." moment and turn the modest side chapels into ornate building facades.  

Verona was also remarkable due to the sheer quantity of marble used to pave streets and sidewalks.  Even modern crosswalks make use of large slabs of marble!  In Sweden, royals paid good money to artists to imitate marble by painting columns and walls with a marbled pattern because they couldn’t afford real marble.  And in Verona, there was so much marble around that the city was even paving the streets with it!

Left: view from our hotel window

Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet is set in Verona, but he based his story on events which actually took place in Sienna.  I was therefore disturbed to learn that while in Verona, it is possible to visit “Juliet’s house” (complete with balcony), “Romeo’s house,” and “Juliet’s tomb.”  We avoided these “attractions”...

Despite the Romeo and Juliet hype, Carl and I really liked Verona.  It is a very manageable city with a walkable historic district and a palpable sense of history.  Even so, Verona is very much a living city with a marked urban pulse.  However, we didn’t love Padua.  Despite the fact that the university in Padua is one of the world’s oldest and that it was even where Galileo taught, there are very few historical buildings left in the city and you get no sense of enchantment or allure while wandering Padua’s neighborhoods. 

Our main reason for visiting Padua, however, was to see the 14th century murals in the Capella degli Scrovegni.  The murals were incredible and I would definitely recommend a quick stop to visit them even though I didn’t find the rest of the city so impressive.  Every other painting I have ever seen from this era have been flat and unrealistic, but the Scrovegni murals are positively genius in comparison with their animated, emotive characters (one character even has tears rolling down her face!) and realistic perspective.  Recent restorations have even revealed that the artist even sculpted with the paint, using thick globs to make the murals more three-dimensional, a technique that was centuries ahead of its time. 

It’s always fun to explore new places, but Carl and I were itching to get to our final destination of the trip, Venice.  New post coming soon!

You're not allowed to take photos in Cappella degli Scrovegni so I found photos here: http://www.afar.com/places/scrovegni-chapel-padua.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 11, 2015
Christmas Skiing in Val Gardena, Italy

Thanks to the amazing number of holidays we receive over Christmas and New Year’s, Carl and I were able to take an 18 day vacation while only taking four days off from work.  Continuing our holiday tradition, we celebrated the holidays on a ski trip with Carl’s aunt (see “New Year's in Lofsdalen”  and “Low Noon in Lofsdalen").  Like last year (see “Christmas Skiing in the Italian Dolomites”), we went to Val Gardena in the Italian Dolomites and even stayed in the same apartment hotel.  This year, however, our kitchen view was even better!

We flew from Stockholm to Munich and then took the train down through Austria and into Italy.  The trip for Carl and I was surprisingly efficient, although Eva unfortunately missed the train due to her delayed skis.  She managed to catch a later train, however, and her skis were delivered a couple of days later.

On the train, passing through Austria

Carl and I are starting to realize that skiing over Christmas in Europe is an iffy proposition as snow may or may not have begun to fall.  We’ve now skied for four Christmases in a row, and the snow has been iffy all four years.  This December in Val Gardena, they received very little snow and even had valley temperatures of 45 degrees!  Even though Val Gardena has extremely extensive snow making equipment, they were unable to start making snow due to the warm temperatures.  However, the temperatures cooled a few days before we arrived and working around the clock, the folks at Val Gardena managed to open over 200km of runs for Christmas week.  Blasting enough snow to cover 125 miles of slopes sure isn’t very sustainable, but the three of us sure did have fun on the surprisingly good snow.

The upside to the not-snowy weather was that we enjoyed sun and magnificent views almost the entire week.  It was so warm and sunny that we were even able to eat lunch and to enjoy coffee breaks outside five out of our six skiing days!  Again, Carl and I reveled in the amazing food that the small, independent restaurants serve on the slopes—polenta with wild mushrooms, creamy lasagnas, spinach and cheese dumplings, homemade tortellini, baked local goat cheese wrapped in local prosciutto, ricotta dumplings filled with Nutella, the world’s best cappuccino...  I’m drooling just writing about it!

cappuccino with a view

The delicious, affordable food is one big difference between skiing in Italy and skiing in the US.  Another difference that we noticed on this trip is that in the US, lift operators tend to be 20-year-old ski bums.  In Italy, however, they were almost exclusively men in their 60’s.  We speculated that they are probably retired ski teachers who still enjoy being out in the mountains as much as possible.

Speaking of being in the mountains as much as possible, I wouldn't mind spending a lot of time staying at one of these cabins...

Val Gardena doesn’t have an abundance of steep and challenging slopes, but it more than makes up for it with the sheer distances that you can cover.  There are several slopes that are more than 10km long, and you can ski down 1800 vertical meters (5,900 vertical feet!) without stopping!  Not only are the runs long, but the interconnected slopes mean that you can cover huge distances without ever repeating a slope.  Between chair lifts and ski runs, it’s possible to cover about 90 km of terrain in a single day, opening up a vast network of ski possibilities and an endless array of superlative views.  Even though we were at the same ski resort as last year, we skied many new areas that hadn't already covered.

Carl and my longest day involved skiing over several passes and up to Marmolada, a distinctive, glaciated peak in the Dolomites.  Marmolada is so far from Val Gardena that the views are completely different, and the height of the peak means that you can see range after range of craggy peaks.  When we got off the cable car at the top, the view was practically infinite and the valleys were filled with white rivers of clouds.  Indescribably beautiful.  I would have loved to take a second run down Marmolada, but the trip up and down again is so long and we were so far away from Val Gardena that we were constrained by time to one run down the marvelous mountain.

At the top of Marmolada

Even though Val Gardena’s runs are generally more relaxing than challenging, there are several World Cup runs in the area.  Another new zone for us was exploring Corvara and the crazy long, crazy steep World Cup run down to the town of La Villa.  In my experience, most black runs consist of one or possibly two short steep sections with longer, less crazy sections in between.  This run, however, is nearly vertical for its entire 2km distance.  I was nervous skiing down this run, and my thighs burned by the end, but it was very satisfying to know that my ski skills have improved to the point that I can gracefully (if slowly) make my way down such challenging slopes.

At the top of two of Val Gardena's most challenging black slopes.

 
The areas that we did repeat this year felt new because we could actually see the scenery and the surrounding peaks.  While we did get glimpses of the surrounding beauty last year, the weather was fairly cloudy and we didn’t always get a sense of the scenery around us.  This year, however, repeated slopes felt new and unexplored because we had amazing vistas of the rugged Dolomites.

We were up early every day and skied hard all day long.  By sundown, we were utterly exhausted and ready for evening relaxation.  Eva, Carl and I took turns cooking, and it was super luxurious to have a lovely, relaxing meal after such strenuous days.  We rarely managed to stay awake past 9:30 pm and collapsed into bed shortly after each dinner.  Although we were tired, I really enjoyed our cozy evenings together.  Thank you Eva for another great Christmas together! 

Carl and I on top of the world

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 09, 2014
Day of the Dead in Mexico

My mom has visited us in Stockholm twice now, so this year it was our turn to visit her, in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico!  We timed our trip to coincide with Sweden’s dreary late-fall weather and Mexico’s Day of the Dead Celebration.  Seeing my mom, lounging in the warm sun, and soaking in the colorfulness of Mexico was the perfect antidote to Stockholm’s grey and rainy November (see my recent blog posts “Greyest, Darkest November in Stockholm's Recorded History” and “The Depression of November” here).

Mom lives about 20km outside of San Miguel on the back edge of a small farm.  The property and views are gorgeous, and Mom’s sage-enshrouded cottage is super cute with a front porch perfect for lounging in the sun, watching the hummingbirds flit through the flowering sage, relishing novels, gazing at the mountains across the valley, and watching the sunset.  Mom’s cottage is about an hour from the city center by bus, and after a few days, the friendly bus driver knew exactly which driveway to stop at to let us off.

San Miguel is a little short on traditional must-see sights, but does have a Disney-esque church

(I'd just like to point out that this cross is made from faux cactus trunks.  Interesting interpretation in an area that has no sizable trees!)

and it is a Unesco World Heritage Site for a reason—the city center is nearly unchanged since colonial times and walking the beautiful streets is a true pleasure.

I love the warm, rich palate of ochers and golds and vermilions and oranges which color most of the cities buildings.

The city is composed of closed facades with very few openings onto the street.  Behind the street facade of every house is a courtyard—sometimes tiny, sometimes generous and lusciously planted.  It’s very rare to get a glimpse into the courtyards from the street, and I am always full of fantasies about what you might find behind the walls.

The house on the right is just a facade; behind the facade there is no building!  "Renovation opportunity" ...

Although the courtyards are generally hidden from view, it is easier to catch a glimpse of the numerous rooftop terraces,

 and every now and then there’s a beautiful courtyard with colonnade that’s open to the public.

The city is also chock full of beautiful doors and window surrounds and other 300-year-old building details such as street altars and public fountains. 

As postcard-worthy as San Miguel is, not every corner is perfect.  Wire chaos like this reminds you that you are still in Mexico...

  
San Miguel, like any other Catholic city from the period, is brimming with churches.  The churches are generally not trend setting, but they are a local interpretation of the hottest trends coming out of Rome, through Spain, and finally, slowly, to Mexico.  The exteriors are generally replete with detail,

but the interiors are comparatively poor and simple.  However, I can’t help but share the focal figure of one church.  The figure is not Mary who was clearly depicted to the side.  Who, then, is this?  Drag queen Jesus?

A good bit of our trip was dedicated to Day of the Dead—attending lectures, visiting alters around the city, watching parades, and visiting cemeteries.  I find Mexico’s mixture of Catholicism and native beliefs (known as Syncretism) fascinating, and the lecture helped me to understand the origins of the Day of the Dead celebration as well as the multitude of symbolism.  For example, marigolds are used in abundance, their bright color and strong scent guiding the spirits home.

Marigolds for sale in a market and used on an altar (this one honors the extinct passenger pigeon).

Incense is also burned to guide the spirits.  The number of levels in the alter refers to the levels of the heavens and of the underworld, and a glass of water appears on every alter to quench the tired spirit’s thirst after the long journey through all of those levels.  Sometimes, toiletries such as soap and a toothbrush are even included so that the soul can freshen up after the journey!  Each alter is dedicated to one or several loved ones who are pictured in photographs on the altar, and the loved one’s favorite foods (enchiladas, guacamole, sweet breads) entice them back home.  Favorite sodas, cans of beer, and brands of tequila also entice the spirit to stay for a while, and it is not against the rules to join the spirits in imbibing.   

The altar might also include some of the honored one’s favorite objects such as a cd, a toy, a cookbook, or a pair of shoes.  Piles or crosses made of salt and ashes serve a purification role.

Skulls and skeletons whether made of sugar, papier mache, plastic or bread remind that we all die in the end,

and Katrinas, the fancily-dressed skeletons, remind us that we all end up dead, no matter our station in life.

When the breeze stirs the papel picado (garlands of cut-out paper), the family knows that the spirit has arrived.

Some of the altars that we visited were truly works of impressive, if temporary, art.  Perhaps the temporary nature of the artworks is also symbolic.

The Day of the Dead celebration is at least 3000 years old, and while it has changed and adapted to Spanish colonialism and modern times, I am surprised at how little Christian symbolism has been incorporated over the last 500 years.  Besides a few crosses, we didn’t see much that referred to Christianity at all.  Although the holiday was moved from August to the end of October to coincide with the Catholic All Souls Day, the church has more or less turned a blind eye to the celebration, probably knowing that forbidding it would end any native support and collaboration.   

We happened upon a market with about 25 stalls selling nothing but sugar candy creations for the altars.  Instead of putting the loved one’s favorite food or toy on the altar, some people used sugar substitutes instead.       

Sugar hens and sugar chicken mole with a side of rice.

The alters are generally in people’s homes and are for the private family only.  However, the other main part of the Day of the Dead celebration takes place out in public, in the cemetery.  The entire family and any close loved ones walk to the cemetery together, bearing gardening tools, tremendous bouquets of flowers, a picnic, perhaps some chairs or a blanket, perhaps an umbrella to block the sun.  They then spend the day visiting the grave of a dead loved one.  Although there is a perceptible party atmosphere, the visit starts with work—clearing the grave of debris, perhaps painting it, planting new flowers and bushes, and arranging massive quantities of flowers and flower petals over the plot.  Then it’s time to sit and relax, say some prayers, tell stories about the deceased, enjoy a picnic and share a beer with the departed, hire a mariachi band for a song or two in honor of the dead, and to celebrate the life of the dead loved one.  We did see a few more somber groups, and I assume that they were honoring a more recent deceased person, but the atmosphere in general was quite upbeat and festive.  Day of the Dead is a celebration of life more than a mourning over death.   

Another highlight to our trip was visiting a nearby pyramid in Cañada de la Virgen.  Compared to past experiences at Teotihuacan, Chichen Itza, and Calakmul, the pyramid is fairly small and the complex isn’t so impressive.  However, we went on a guided tour with one of the archeologists that dug out the site, and the visit was totally fascinating and captivating.  I would highly, highly recommend a visit with Coyote Canyon and Albert Coffee—he makes the entire Mesoamerican civilization come alive, and his explanations of how the pyramid is aligned to the surrounding context, various complex astronomical phenomenon, and to the Mesoamerican calendar makes the pyramid more than just a pile of stones.  I was especially fascinated to learn that the sacred bodies that were buried in the summit temple actually died more than a millennia before the pyramid was constructed; these ancestors had been worshiped by and carried by the community for over a thousand years before this temple was built to house them.  Wow.  That really put ancestor worship in perspective for me, and the Mexican focus on the family suddenly seems like such a natural extension of that practice in the modern world.  

We spent almost the entire two weeks in San Miguel and with my mom, but Carl and I did take a bus to the next city over for a couple of days.  Guanajuato is also a Unesco World Heritage Site due to its colonial city center and due to the unique cityscape which is crammed into a relatively narrow and very steep-sided valley.  Climbing up Guanajuato’s steep, narrow alleyways literally takes your breath away, but you are luckily never lost—you know that the town center is always downhill.

 And once you get high enough, the views out over the city’s small, colorful boxy buildings are mesmerizing.

 
Despite being so close to San Miguel, Guanajuato has a unique character and flavor; even the color palate was totally different with lots of hot pinks and neon yellows and greens.

Guanajuato is a much edgier city with a huge student population, and the city is a bit grungier and less perfect and trim than San Miguel.  Both cities have a well-used and formal main square,

Guanajuato's main square

but while San Miguel’s streets form a perfect closed grid, Guanajuato’s medieval maze of alleyways on the steep topography leaves oddly formed open spaces which have become neighborhood squares and gathering spaces.  Judging from the churches, Guanajuato has always been a far wealthier city.  From above, it is clear that Guanajuato’s basilica is completely out of scale compared to the surrounding cityscape.

Guanajuato is a mining town, and for 250 years running, the mine produced 20% of the world’s silver.  In the 70’s, the mining engineers were put to work for a different purpose—rerouting the city’s stinking, cesspool-like rivers and relieving the city’s congestion by rerouting the surface roads into the former riverbeds and newly blasted underground tunnels.  These tunnels are also pedestrian thoroughfares and they lend the already highly topographical city yet another dimension of depth. 

We didn’t visit any of the mines, but we did visit a beautiful hacienda owned by a mining family as well as Templo La Valenciana, a Churrigueresque church donated by a mine owner.  It was curious that the church paid for by a silver mine baron had three gigantic alters filigreed with massive amounts of gold.  I don’t know if I’ve ever seen such three-dimensional altars as these.  

In Guanajuato, we stayed in a really atmospheric room, and our hotel even had a great roof terrace with a wide-reaching view.  I would have loved to have had time to spend an afternoon relaxing on the terrace with a book.

It was sad to leave San Miguel and even sadder to leave my mom at the end of our two week stay.  It’ll be a while until we see each other again—the main downside to living overseas is how rarely we get to see our family and friends. 

When we landed in Stockholm, the fog and drizzle were so thick that the cloud cover was only ten feet above the ground.  I immediately thought, “Welcome to Stockholm in November!”  Going back to work and getting back into our routine in such dreary weather after our colorful, flower-filled, sunny weeks in Mexico was a challenge, to say the least.  But now we’re quickly approaching Christmas and winter jubilation!

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2014

Last Camping of the Season on Lådna

Carl and I have noticed that the second weekend of October seems to be prime leaf season in the Stockholm area, so we try to time a camping trip for that weekend every year.  Last year it was Ekerö, and this year we took the ferry out into the archipelago to the island of Lådna. 

After spending the night in a forest, we walked across the inhabited island and rowed ourselves in public rowboats across the channel to the Lådna Nature Reserve on the island of Lådnaön. 

Each island in the archipelago has its own character despite similar topography and flora.  Lådnaön was a blend of historic agricultural meadows, scenic barns, pine forests, hardwood forests, sandy beaches, and glacier-polished waterside cliffs.  We spent a good bit of time exploring the island’s trails, but we also had plenty of time for reading in the warm sun (it turned out to be the last warm weekend of the year!) and for lazing in our hammock.

   
Even so, the weekend passed all too quickly and we soon had to row ourselves back over to Lådna.  While walking across the island to the ferry, I enjoyed peeking at all of the summer cottages, many of them historic.  I particularly fell in love with this one whose glassed verandahs are about 30 feet from the water’s edge.

It’ll probably be at least six months until we’re out in the archipelago again, so in the mean time we’re hoping for lots of snow and cold temperatures to make for a great cross-country skiing and long-distance ice skating season!

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2014

Office Study Trip to Lisbon

Corporate tax law in Sweden makes it relatively inexpensive for companies to sponsor study or teambuilding trips for their employees.  For example, Carl’s company goes sailing every fall and goes on a ski trip or weekend retreat every spring.  It is common for architecture firms to go look at exciting, new architecture in a European city.  Often, the architecture trips are to inexpensive and relatively close locations such as Copenhagen or Berlin, but I have friends who have even gone to Beijing and New York on study trips paid for by their firms.  Every firm has a different process for planning and executing the trips, but in my firm of about 125 people, the office picks about six or eight destinations that are within budget and then the employees get to choose which trip they would like to join.  Every year, the destinations are a little different, and this year’s choices included Reykjavik, Marseilles, Berlin, Amsterdam, the Venice Biennale, and Lisbon.  What a smart way to keep architects motivated, especially if they are working on less than ideal projects!

I had been in Lisbon for a couple of days in 1999, and my impression was actually fairly negative.  But fifteen years later, I decided that it was time to give Lisbon another try, and I am so glad that I did.  The extensive old town is charming with scenic alley after scenic alley climbing up the steep hillsides,

winding by colorful, tile-covered buildings,

eventually reaching high viewpoints with scenic vistas out over the city and to the water beyond.

Frequent tree-shaded plazas dot the old town, providing a breathing space in the dense landscape of tight, twisting alleyways.

The topography is fairly extreme and the city is dotted with pedestrian elevators, funicular railways,

and bridges which cross from high point to high point.  

Even many of the alleyways consist of staircases which climb and climb and climb.

 
Traveling with 13 architects was a bit of a challenge as all had different priorities and different ideas of what was important to see.  At times, we split into smaller groups and other times all 13 of us wandered around together.  Our dinners were pre-arranged group affairs, and it was fun to catch up with everyone at the end of the day and hear about what the other groups had seen.  None of us were particularly impressed with the food in Lisbon, but we did have one lovely four course dinner with excellent wine from the Porto valley.

Most of downtown Lisbon consists of historic buildings, so there aren’t that many contemporary projects to study.  However, we did see an interesting project by Álvaro Siza who rebuilt a large block in the Chiado neighborhood after a fire had leveled most of the buildings in 1988.  The architect decided to open up the extensive interior of the block to the public.  However, this was especially challenging due to the topography: the block is on a steep hillside, so one side of the block is several stories above the other side.  From one side of the block, the building facades look original and they blend into the neighborhood.   The pedestrian enters the project through an opening in the facade.  After passing a few small eateries and boutiques, a bank of elevators take you down to the parking garage and an escalator takes you up, further into the interior of the block.

There are several more cafes and small stores at this higher level, as well as a private green space for residents.  To exit the courtyard, you walk through a large portal through the more modern side of the block.  The modern facade is extremely simple, but the pattern of openings is reminiscent of the historic buildings in the area.  Although the context, site, and program are extremely complex, I really appreciated the simplicity of the architecture.

We walked through the Expo ’98 area of Lisbon, most of which felt over-scaled and desolate.  There were a few projects that I liked, though, including this apartment building (this is the back side, the front side is similar but which much bigger openings leading out to balconies)

and this glass facade with connecting glass bridge.

The highlight of the Expo area was Calatrava’s commuter rail and subway station.  At street level, it is a massive concrete structure, but despite the massiveness, Calatrava managed to make the beams and columns and arches feel like they are flying.

Above, the train station is covered by an undulating glass roof supported by a tree-like steel structure.  I found the roof structure intriguing, but I must say that it was prettier from a distance. 

One of the days we took the commuter train to the last stop at the small seaside town of Cascais.  There, we saw a beautiful project of a modern hotel called Pousada de Cascais which has been inserted into a historic, 16th century seaside fortress.  

Parts of the project consist of new buildings while several historical buildings inside the fort have been renovated for the hotel.

I just loved the simple, clean detailing and how modern details have been inserted into the historic fabric.  A truly brilliant project by Gonçalo Byrne Arquitectos. 

Next door to the fortress hotel is another beautiful project, this time a parking garage.

I never would have thought that building a parking garage next to a historic fortress would have been a good idea, but Miguel Arruda Arquitectos Associados project from 2009 proves that even a parking garage on a sensitive site can be beautiful.  Similarly to the hotel, uber-simple details make the project sing.

Night shot from: http://www.worldbuildingsdirectory.com/project.cfm?id=1937

Another nice project was the 2007 Santa Maria Lighthouse Museum by Francisco and Manuel Aires Mateus which consists of several moderately sized white volumes.  Simplicity was also the key to the beauty of this museum.  I also liked the giant “Judd” pivot doors which remind me of my visits to Marfa, Texas.

I didn’t love the Casa das Historias Museum by Eduardo Souto de Moura, designed to house Paula Rego’s body of work.  Both the color of the concrete and the conical volumes seemed out of place.  Perhaps if I knew more about Rego’s art I would understand the building better?  I also found it odd that the conical volumes enclose the gift shop and the cafe but not the art collection.  What an odd use of the so prominent shapes.

 
The timing of our trip to Lisbon was perfect—in addition to great architecture, our trip had the added bonus of providing a last taste of summer with warm temperatures and piercingly blue skies.  Our two-and-a-half days in Lisbon was a good taste of the city, but there is definitely more to explore another time!   

MONDAY, OCTOBER 06, 2014

Weekend in Mariefred

I’m getting behind on writing about our Travels!  This trip was a month ago and I already have two more trips to post!  Life is busy but I am thankful that it is filled with such fun activities!

One thing that Carl and I managed to cross off of our summer to-do list was a weekend trip to Mariefred.  Mariefred has three main attractions: a three-and-a-half hour steamboat ride from Stockholm, a fairy-tale castle, and a charming historic town center.  We had actually visited the castle when my dear friend Mia visited last summer, but our priorities were such that we decided to go and gorge at a cake buffet at a neighboring palace instead of taking the boat or wandering through the town.  At the castle, we saw the charming town beckoning across the bay, and Carl and I decided that we must simply come back and visit another time.

After more visiting friends spent a few relaxing days in Mariefred this summer, Carl and I decided that the time had come to stop thinking about visiting the town and to finally do it.

Saturday morning in mid-September, we hopped onto the steamboat for its final journey of the year.  Mariefred is on the coast of the large Lake Mälaren, which empties into the Baltic at Stockholm.

Until very recently, the town was almost exclusively accessed by boat, as the interior of Sweden was a vast and daunting forest.  Today, it is much quicker to get to Mariefred by train, but it was lovely to take the boat with its relaxing pace and beautiful views.

It was exciting to see part of Stockholm from the water,

but the scenery very quickly changed from urban to country, with a good number of jealousy-inducing summer cabins along the waterside.

Long stretches showed no human habitation at all.

 Finally, approaching the city, the fairy-tale Gripsholm Castle loomed into view, dominating the skyline.

 
We spent most of our first afternoon in Mariefred visiting Gripsholm Castle.  I have posted lots more information and many more photos here.

Gripsholm Castle as seen from the town of Mariefred, definitely impressive, even today.

Dinner was at the town’s one dine-in restaurant, a charming pub at the grand hotel.  Our candle-lit dinner in the cozy dining room was tasty, if not a religious dining experience, and the charm of the location more than made up for slightly-less-than-gourmet quality.     

We stayed in a uber-cute bed and breakfast in the center of town.  Although the look is completely different, the way that Mariefred's lots were constructed was much like old Spanish and Mexican cities with the private realm hidden behind a wall.  In Mariefred, the old workshop and storage buildings were the wall, creating a blank, impersonal facade on the street.  However, once you step thought the wall, you enter a lush private garden that leads to the main residence at the back of the lot.

The Bed and Breakfast's entry from the street was through the green building.  Once inside, the private garden stretches back to the main residence.

At our bed and breakfast, the owners live in the main residence and the guests stay in old log-cabin workshop/storage buildings from the 1700’s.  The rooms were really well-designed and painstakingly restored.  Sunday morning, we ate our huge breakfast in the lovely gardens. 

Our room was upstairs in the "loft."

Stuffed, we wandered around Mariefred’s charming town center which is filled with brightly painted log-cabin structures.

It was too late in the season for there to be very many tourists, but everyone was out and about running errands, sitting in cafes, and generally enjoying the sunny day.  Despite its small size, we were impressed with Mariefred’s liveliness.   

Next to the castle, on the mainland, is the historic royal stag-hunting ground.  Stags are still kept in the park, and there is still a yearly hunt.

However, during other parts of the year, the park is open to the public, so Carl and I spent a divine lazy afternoon on an oak-covered hillside, reading in the sun, and gazing down at the castle and at the water.  The afternoon was all the more poignantly beautiful because we knew that it was likely to be the last summer day of the year. 

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2014

Iceland Part II

After our road trip around Iceland, Carl and I returned to the Reykjavik airport where we exchanged our teeny tiny rental car for an overly large SUV and picked up three dear friends from our time in Texas.  With our jetlagged friends in tow, we set off for our rental cabin (via the Blue Lagoon!) in the south of Iceland.

We had decided to meet in Iceland because it is sort of half way between the US and Sweden, and because it is much cheaper to fly there than it is to fly the whole stretch across the Atlantic.  How cool is it to be able to say “when we meet up in Iceland...”?!?

Our rental cabin was about 8 miles from the main Ring Road—just far enough to feel like we were way out in the country, but close enough to “civilization” to be able to easily day-trip around the region.  Our cabin was just at the edge where the gravel secondary road turned into a “F” road—a road so remote and infrequently maintained that 2WD cars are not allowed to drive on it.  The entire interior of Iceland is crisscrossed with F roads, a veritable backcountry Shangri-La that Carl and I yearn to visit someday.

The road sign right before our cabin warning that regular 2WD cars are not allowed any further!

Staying in one place and sleeping in a real bed for the week was such a luxurious treat after our two weeks of road-tripping and camping.  The cabin was cute and comfortable, and it was so wonderful to spend extended evenings at the dinner/game table with our friends.  Ironically, we saw more sunsets while staying in the cabin than while staying in the tent, because we generally stayed up much later with our friends than we did when it was just the two of us.

Because we knew that we would be spending a lot of time in the area later on in our trip, Carl and I had driven straight through southern Iceland.  During our cabin week with our friends, we explored quite a bit of territory in Southern Iceland, stopping at a plethora of sites along the way.  Waterfalls, turf buildings, mountain vistas, day hikes, and hot springs were continued themes during our cabin week, but of course with the added spice of our friends’ company.

It’s hard to prioritize, so here are a whole bunch of the beautiful places we visited, roughly in chronological order.

Day 1: 

The Blue Lagoon is ridiculously expensive but the experience of soaking in this mineral-rich water is well worth it!

Day 2: 

The glacier in the distance has spewed out an enormous desert of sand and gravel.

Almost all of the bridges on Iceland's main Ring Road consist of only one lane.

These farms at the base of the cliffs give you a sense of the massiveness of the landscape's scale.  Photos by Mia Frietze.

One day we hiked up a ridge beside a glacier in Skaftafell National Park.  The view down onto the glacier with all of its texture was just gorgeous.  Photo on the right by Mia Frietze.

Svartifoss.  One of MANY waterfalls that we visited!

More roadside scenery.  Photos by Mia Frietze.

Day 3:

We parked and started walking in the pouring rain through this river valley...

to Seljavallalaug pool.  It is fed by natural hot springs and despite the man-made concrete pool and changing hut, you can only get to it by hiking.  We counted no less than 13 waterfalls in the hills above us while relaxing in the warm water.

Seljalandsfoss, which you can walk behind.

Gljufurabuifoss looks like this before you enter the canyon

and like this once you've rock-hopped through the canyon to the waterfall!  Jennifer's description of the canyon waterfall was so perfect and poetic--Gljururabuifoss is like finding a waterfall in a geode!  Photo on the left by Jennifer and Alex.

Day 4:

Even though we (accidentally) rented a 4WD vehicle, I didn't feel comfortable driving on Iceland's rugged 4WD-only roads or with fording rivers of unknown depth and current.  In order to take a daytrip into the interior, we hopped on a 4WD bus.  Our bus wasn't completely tricked out because our destination wasn't that far in the interior, but some of the 4WD buses were even equipped with a snorkel so that the engine can keep firing under water!

Once we arrived in Landmannalaugavegur, we hiked up to the top of the peak on the right in the left-hand photo.  The hike was steep,

but the scenery was incredible, in every sense of the word.  The photos look fake, but the mountains really were that colorful.  On our hike, we passed large patches green and purple dirt, colored by the various volcanic chemicals.  I was also fascinated by the braided rivers in the flat, sandy, gravelly valleys.

After the rigorous hike, we rewarded ourselves with a relaxing soak in the hot river which winds through the valley.  Photo on the right by Mia Frietze. 

The water was crystal clear and just the right soothing temperature.  You could adjust the temperature by moving closer to or farther away from one of the many hot springs trickling into the river.  Photo by Mia Frietze.

Carl and I loved our first little taste of Iceland's interior (photo by Mia Frietze)

and we have vowed to return here one day for more colorful hiking and relaxing swimming. 

We finished the perfect day by grilling hotdogs on our cabin's porch and enjoying the peaceful (but windy!) scenery.

Day 5:

Hekla, Iceland's most active volcano, as seen from our cabin porch.

Reykjadalur means "Smoky Valley" and is filled with steaming fumaroles, pits of boiling mud,

and a hot river, just the right temperature for an hours-long soak.  Photo by Mia Frietze.

More roadside scenery--even the hay bales in Iceland are gorgeous!

Day 6:

Keldur is a Viking-era turf farm with a more modern-day addition.  The turf farm was just a couple of kilometers from our cabin.

Some interior details at Keldur.

Even the spring house and the field sheds were constructed of turf!  So cute and picturesque!

Day 7:

A random, unnamed, roadside waterfall tumbling at least a thousand feet.

Approaching the Atlantic.  Photo by Jennifer and Alex.

The juxtaposition of black sand and white breaking waves was just exquisite.  There were even hundreds of puffins fishing just off the shore, and hundreds more nesting in the cliffs above the beach!

Jennifer and Alex, in black rain coats and black rain pants, exploring this seaside basalt cave.

Outside of the cave, Mia and Carl climbed the giant basalt columns.

Skogafoss, seen from below and from above.

Even more gorgeous roadside Iceland.  Photos by Mia Frietze.

Modern-day farm sheds nestled into the cliff.

One had corrugated metal siding and roof while the others had concrete gables and turf roofs.

Day 8:

Pingvellir was the site of Iceland's yearly Viking-age parliament meeting.  The area is located over the edge of the two Atlantic plates which are sliding apart at a rate of a few millimeters every year.

There's not really much to see at Pingvellir, but the sense of history is impressive.  I was most impressed, however, but these modern-day wannabe "turf" buildings.

It wasn't exactly a destination that we had in mind, but I am pretty sure that we found Iceland's ugliest church.  The interior was complete with gigantic, gaudy, Murano-style blue-glass chandeliers.  And I couldn't help but love the still-life composition with the blue-painted concrete angel and the lawn tractor.  Wow.

Gulfoss was mind-boggling huge, and mind-boggling gorgeous.  Even more mind-boggling is the fact that this incredible waterfall was slated to be damned for electricity production.  The local farmer's daughter walked barefoot all the way to Reykjavik in protest.  Luckily for us all, she was heard.

If it weren't so green, I could have mistaken this scene for Texas.

Before flying out, we had time for one final hot spring soak at Hr...  This one's not in the guidebooks...

Thank you Carl, Mia, Jennifer, and Alex for such a memorable week in Iceland!  Now that I'm looking back at all these amazing photos, I can't believe how much incredible scenery we saw and how many gorgeous experiences we had!

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 04, 2014

Iceland Part I

Since moving to Sweden, all of our summer vacations have been above the Arctic Circle.  This year, we decided not to head so far north and traveled instead to the comparatively southern realm of Iceland.

When planning our trip, Carl and I debated between a backpacking trip in the interior and a roadtrip around the Ring Road.  In the end, we decided to go for the road trip option in order to maximize hot spring visitation.  That ended up being a great decision because it rained, a lot, during our trip.

The rain and crazy thick fog was a bit disappointing at times.  We didn’t do as many hikes as we had planned, and most of the hikes we did do ended up being soggy ones.  We drove through entire regions of the country without seeing a thing, and many of the mountains and volcanoes and fjords were invisible in the low-lying clouds.  Setting up a wet tent every evening got old, as did taking down the tent in the rain many mornings.   

While I’m naming all the bad things about Iceland, I may as well mention that it is expensive.  To rent a car is to spend a fortune, and gas is on the order of $11/gallon.  A dingy hotel room costs at least $200/night.  Dinners out are not all that much cheaper then they are in Stockholm. 

Even so, despite the expense and the rain and the fog, Iceland was wonderful.  Some of the landscapes were unforgettable.  The hot springs were blissful.  The food was delectable.  And all that rain meant that we say a rainbow nearly every single day.

We didn’t eat out often, but when we did, the food was incredible.  Some favorites included raw smoked lamb, freshly caught lobster baked in a garlic cream sauce, ”volcano bread” which is steamed in underground thermal vents, and skyr, a low-fat yet incredibly creamy, rich yogurt.  All sheep in Iceland are free range, and every lamb dish we tried was unbelievably tender and rich in flavor. 

We drove a total of 1724 miles over 15 days—some days we didn’t drive much at all, while other days were almost entirely spent in the car, making mileage.  We generally followed the Ring Road, but we did make a few worthwhile detours, especially in the northeastern part of the country.  Because that area is so far from Reykjavik, we figured that we would be unlikely to ever return, so we decided to see as much of that area as possible.

The Ring Road is Iceland’s main road, and yet it is tiny.  Most of it consists of two narrow lanes, but not too long after leaving the Reykjavik region, the middle and shoulder lines disappear.  Almost all of the bridges are one lane bridges, and some sections of the Ring Road are even gravel.  One mountainous gravel section is even at a 19% grade! 

Iceland's main road: sometimes paved, sometimes gravel

Secondary roads were even smaller and the rutted, potholed tracks tested the limits of our little car.  One secondary road had a one-lane tunnel that was 12 kilometers long!  There were wider passing areas every now and then, but it was still nerve wracking to drive through that tunnel.

Hairpins from the sea's edge to a mountain pass

Another fjord-side secondary road is so prone to rockslides that it has had a cross with the inscription "Whoever goes by should bend down and honor this sign of Christ" since the fourteenth century!

 
We didn’t get more than a few hours into our drive before we realized that impressive waterfalls are everywhere in Iceland.  There are stretches of road where there is a thundering waterfall falling a thousand feet or more literally every half a mile.  Driving through Iceland is to sound like a broken record:  ”Waterfall!  Waterfall!  Waterfall!”

Dettifoss is Iceland's most powerful waterfall with the greatest flow of water.  The scale is grandiose and hard to fathom, much like Niagra.

Waterfalls were just one of many astonishing roadside landscapes in Iceland.  The landscapes along the Ring Road were so varied, and everyday brought a new type of terrain and scenery.  One day it was a misty  glacial lagoon filled with bobbing icebergs,

the next a black sand beach strewn with diamond-like ice chunks and icebergs just offshore, thrashing in the waves.

Another day it was puzzling, swirling lava formations,

and another lava basalt columns like a giant’s staircase stepping down to the sea.  

Another day an emerald-green slot canyon slicing into the mountain mastiff,

the next a turquoise volcanic crater next door to a steamy lava field reminding that Iceland’s next volcanic event could occur anytime.

Another day a glacier spilling down the mountainside

to an impossibly green, flower-strewn meadow.

Yet another day, mountains jutting straight out of the sea

while the next day brought the most perfect, volcano-shaped volcano.

And then photogenic ruins of seaside farms followed by lava fields and troll- riddled mountains.

And midnight sunsets that last nearly until the sun rises at 2 a.m.  

All of this, hardly without leaving the car.

In addition to an ever-changing slideshow of fantastical landscapes, roadside Iceland revealed that Icelanders have a quirky sense of humor not unlike Texans.  One favorite was a solar powered vending machine selling cokes and candy bars in the absolute middle of nowhere.  Another was a shower head gushing hot, geothermal water.

We camped every night except for one, sometimes in organized campgrounds (warm shower!) and sometimes out in the mountains, but within a short walk of the car.  

Only once did we backpack into the mountains and spend the night.  We hiked up, up, up on a ”trail” which was marked but which didn’t consist of a path at all.  Apparently, not enough people hike the trail to wear a path into the heath.  After hours of serious uphill hiking, we came to a mountain lake, still halfway covered by winter ice.  Sadly, as we climbed higher, we climbed into the clouds and our magnificent mountain view was replaced by drizzle.  We were elated to descend the next morning out of the clouds to find a magnificent view of the valley with its winding river, the fjord, and the distant, snowy mountains.

Although we didn’t spend the night, another memorable mountain hike led us to a turquoise blue mountain pond among gargantuan boulders.  The loop was unexpectedly still covered in snow (apparently Iceland had an unusually harsh winter with an unusual accumulation of snow) and we spent quite a bit of time hiking through increasingly large snowfields.  Toward the end of the hike, skis would have been a much more efficient means of reaching our goal.

Just about every day brought a new and exciting adventures, vistas, and experiences, (and more waterfalls!)  but there were two things about our Iceland road trip that were above and beyond.  First, I loved loved loved soaking in the hot springs.  Some of the hot springs were in relatively developed areas,

This beach on the Atlantic coast outside of downtown Reykjavik features geothermically heated water in the lagoon and a long, linear hot pot

the lagoon at Myvatten

but we often drove way out of our way on bumpy, jarring roads just to spend an afternoon soaking in some scenic spot.

The changing rooms at Selardalslaug are candlelit!

Another spring was waaaayyyy up a mountainside with an incredible view out over the valley below.

Sadly, bathing is no longer allowed in this incredible grotto spring:

Our favorite hot spring wasn’t even in the guidebook—we found out about it through the horse trainer where we rode Icelandic horses one afternoon.  The hot spring is right on the edge of a river, just above a gushing waterfall.  You can only get to it by hiking, and some local has spent a good amount of time digging out the pool and lining it with rock benches.  We spent several hours soaking in the warmth, listening to the river, and enjoying the view, and only left because we were starving for dinner.

Seeing and learning about turf houses was my other favorite thing about Iceland.  There were a few one-off turf buildings such as the cutest church you’ve ever seen

and the hobbit-iest hobbit hole you’ve ever seen

and the most adorable sheep sheds you’ve ever seen,

but I was even more amazed by a couple of turf farmhouse complexes.  From the outside, I thought that these complexes consisted of discrete buildings,

but actually, the various gabled rooms were all interconnected by internal corridors, stair cases, and passageways.

The plans of Glaumber and Laufas turf farms

The construction of the turf complexes varied by location and available materials.  One was completely turf—bearing walls, roof, and all—while another one had a good bit of structural stone.  Both varieties had an internal heavy timber structure.  Wood was so valuable on the island that if the family moved, they would take the internal timber structure with them, collapsing the turf buildings.  The interiors of some spaces were completely finished and well-lit, and you'd never guess that you were under tons of earth.  Other spaces were dark and quite rustic with exposed turf walls.

The slope of the turf roofs was perfected over the centuries—any steeper and the rain would run off, drying out the plants, while a shallower pitch would cause the rain to sit for too long, leaking into the building.  I found it interesting how the complexes had such a clear front and back with relatively fancy and wood-intensive gable entries while the backsides were so utilitarian and unfinished.

I was also fascinated with the depth of the walls which created quite intense window openings.

 An afternoon of puffin watching also topped our list.  It was late afternoon and the puffins were coming in from the sea with mouths full of eels.

Contemporary architecture in Iceland is also constrained by a nearly complete lack of natural resources.  No trees, very little stone, no iron, not even any lime to make concrete is found on the island.  Ash and pumice are the most common constituents of the earth’s surface, but they are not very structural.  Turf was a good solution to the problem in historical times, but now every little thing is imported.  This has led to a sad proliferation of ugly prefab structures covering the island.  Only a few buildings aspire to greatness, and many of them are churches.  It seemed that just about every little town had a modern, concrete church in one form or another.  Sometimes swoopy, sometimes more Art Deco in look.

Blondus Church

Stykkisholmur Church looks like a UFO with horns from the front and like a Ronchamp wannabe from the side

Akureyri's church was designed by the same architect as Iceland's most famous church (below).  Guðjón Samúelsson was deeply inspired by Iceland's basalt columns.  I found it interesting how the darker sand finish was used to force a shadow line, even under Iceland's continually grey skies.

Hallgrimskirkja in Reykjavik.  Basalt inspiration is more than apparent with the not-so-subtle hexagonal theme.

Towns that didn’t have a modern, concrete church had a historical church covered in corrugated metal.  It took me a while to notice the odd material choice, because the texture creates shadow lines that aren’t so different than the board-and-batten siding that the buildings originally had.  The corrugated metal is also painted in bright, clear colors like wooden buildings.

Many historical houses in Iceland are also now covered in sheets of corrugated metal.  I’m betting that the first person to employ this economical, durable material on their historical building was laughed out of town; now, the lack of wood and the harsh conditions all but require the use of the corrugated metal.

Other than the churches, we didn’t see very many attempts at great contemporary architecture.  The swimming center at Hofsos was one exception with its beautiful quality of light in the changing and shower areas due to translucent channel glass.

Not only was the bath building beautiful, the pools were right by the water!

The Harpa cultural center in Rejkjavik was another grandiose exception, see my separate blog post. The cultural center at Akureyri was also an attempt, with much more success in the interior

than on the odd exterior with its faux concrete basalt column facade.

After two weeks on the Ring Road, Carl and I felt like we got a good taste for the ”exterior” parts of Iceland.  However, we really didn’t venture into the interior of the island at all, and Carl and I would love to return one day to hike through that fantastic landscape and to soak in the interior’s many undeveloped hot springs.  Maybe next summer???  Although it feels like it is a million miles away, Iceland is, after all, only a three hour, inexpensive flight from Stockholm...

SUNDAY, JUNE 22, 2014

Long Weekend in Västerås

Not too long ago, Carl and I had an unplanned long weekend.  Wanting to do something with the time but not having a lot of time for planning, we decided to explore one of Stockholm’s nearby cities.  Somewhat randomly, we chose to visit Västerås, which lies at the western end of Lake Mälaren, the lake that runs through Stockholm, eventually flowing into the Baltic Sea at Gamla Stan.  It only takes an hour to get to Västerås by train, but even though many commute to Stockholm every day,  Västerås has an entirely different vibe than Stockholm.

Founded where a small river emptied into the large Lake Mälaren, Västerås was Sweden’s second largest city in the 11th century.  Important iron, copper, and silver mines were a bit inland, and the raw metals were transported by boat along Västerås’ river and then across the lake to Stockholm.  Västerås Castle was initially built in the 1200’s to protect the ore from pirates as the boats made the transition from protected river to open water.  Eventually, the castle was enlarged so that it could protect the entre city from water attack.

Originally, the castle was just a tower.  During the Renaissance, the castle had four corner towers.  Today, the castle is a bit simplified from its Renaissance heyday, but the textures are still quite rich.

The castle was the setting for two of Sweden’s most important parliament meetings, both under King Gustav Vasa.  (Although Sweden had had kings for millennia before Vasa, he is very much a founding father figure because he routed out the Danes from Sweden and because he founded Sweden’s first dynasty.)  In 1527, Vasa decided to join the reformation, making Sweden an officially protestant country.  Then in 1544, Vasa changed the kingship from being an elected position to being a hereditary position, thus founding the Vasa dynasty.  (Ironically, this change resulted in a bloody ending for Vasa’s oldest son Erik XIV whose sovereignty was cut short when he was imprisoned in Västerås Castle and poisoned to death by his brothers.)

In more recent history, Västerås was a very important industrial city with a huge percentage of the population working at steel mills.  When the mills began to close in the 1970’s, Västerås began a long decline.  Today, the city is a bit quiet with a very laid back vibe that is quite different than Stockholm.  However, business seems to be humming along and a number of new chic and hip bars and restaurants have opened in the last few years.  Västerås is proud of its working-class background and prides itself on having a populace that is much more “real” and “authentic” than Stockholm.   

The club and bar scene is definitely booming in Västerås.  Unfortunately, we can testify to this first-hand as our historic hotel was situated right in the middle of a cluster of popular bars.  The music was blasting and the crowd was hopping until 3 a.m. both nights we stayed there.  While the late-night revelry was a bit annoying, the view from our room out over the historic district was quite charming!

Although a most of the city burned to the ground in 1714, a couple of quaint historical areas remain.  My favorite was probably the über cute stretch of log-cabin and half-timbered buildings along the river.

A close second was the neighborhood of Kyrkbacken, originally a working-class neighborhood just uphill of the church. 

Being such a large and important city, Västerås was the site of a bishopric and the resulting cathedral still stands.  I must say that Västerås cathedral is probably the ugliest, blockiest, least graceful or imposing cathedral I have ever seen.  And I have seen a lot of cathedrals!

One redeeming quality is that the interior plaster is thin enough that you can see the pattern of the structural brickwork.  Very cool!

Västerås must have had a building boom during the 1910’s and 1920’s as there are quite a few wonderful national romantic buildings in the downtown area.  I love the national romantic style with its modernish reminiscence of medieval castles, turrets, steep roofs, and fairy tale-like buildings.  Even though I know that the good ol’ days really weren’t so great, the buildings truly evoke a romance and a yearning for vanished times in me. 

Only the backside of this building really reveals that this isn't an original, medieval building.

Some more examples of the national romantic buildings in Västerås:

Clockwise from top left: The telegraph/telephone office, the city hotel, a cemetery entrance, a more simple apartment building, a fancy apartment building, and a school.

Sadly, Västerås’ building stock from the ‘50’s, 60’s, and 70’s is just plain ugly.  The City Hall from the 1950’s was built on top of a medieval cloister, and I believe that the architecture, especially the clock tower, is meant to recall the monastery.  The City Hall has none of the romance of the National Romantic buildings and is just awkward and foreboding. 

There are a couple of interesting new developments along Västerås’ waterfront.  I have written about them in my post “Not-so-Successful Waterfront Redevelopment in Västerås: Lillåudden.”

One of the main reasons we chose to go to Västerås was to see Anudshög, a Viking-age burial site just outside of the city.  The site consists of several burial mounds, one of which is the biggest burial mound in Sweden.  The mounds tend to be ovular or circular with the cremated remains buried at the bottom of the mound with the departed’s most prized possessions.  A mound of stones was erected over the remains, and finally, the stone structure was covered by a thick turf layer.  

Nestled between the burial mounds are five stone-ship-settings , also burial monuments with cremated remains buried in the center of a ship-formed ring of standing stones.  Given the water-based Viking society, the boat/death symbolism of traveling to the beyond seems obvious.  I have seen several stone-ship-settings in Sweden, but it feels magical and mysterious every time. 

Left: Two stone ship settings.  Carl is walking in the middle of the closer one and gives a sense of how large the standing stones are.  Right: From the ground, it's harder to get a sense of the purposeful ship design.

An important road ran just past the burial site in Viking times, and the road is still partly lined by standing stones and the odd rune stone. 

About half a mile away from the burial site is a pre-historic labyrinth that is about 16 meters in diameter and consists of about 3000 precisely laid stones.  The Tibble Labyrinth isn’t the only prehistoric labyrinth in Sweden, but we don’t really know what their purpose was.  The informed but uncertain guess is that they were associated with spring rites, and that a young woman was placed in the middle of the labyrinth.  The first young man who followed the path to the middle without touching the stones “saved” the girl.  Any who tried but who touched a stone along the way was disqualified from the game.

Usually, Carl and I leave a new city feeling like we have only scratched the surface of the amazing things to see and do there.  However, when we left Västerås, we felt like we had seen and done most of the things that Västerås has to offer.  We had an enjoyable, relaxing weekend in the city, but I don’t feel a need to return in the near future. 

Carl and I took all of the above photos with the exception of:
Tibble Labyrinth drawing: http://www.ukforsk.se/ukf/uppslag5.htm
Tibble Labyrinth photo: http://didgeridoo.se/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/Tibble-labyrinten.jpg

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