Farewell to Furudal

Let's start with saying I have a love/hate relationship with goodbye's. It won't surprise many of you to know that I love to feel like I belong somewhere, and sometimes it takes leaving that place for me to fully recognize that I belong. That said, It hurts that much more to take an instant of belonging and compare it with an uncertain future without the support of my cherished friends. The last night at Furudal was one of those goodbye's.

The campfire was crowded. More people came than had been there all week. We grilled hot dogs until there weren't any left to grill. C-G and Brita made pancakes, served with jam they made with berries picked in the Furudal woods. Everything was delicious. Have you ever tried to make pancakes at a campfire? It didn't look easy, but it sure tasted good!

Eventually, Martha broke down and started in on the evenings musical entertainment. She played for a while with some others and eventually it got down to her and Chris. I knew I would join them eventually, but I was enjoying the feeling of being surrounded by friends; wrapped in their warmth I felt safe and clear-headed.

Suddenly, there was a cry from the crowd! It was time for fattigman. Martha had asked earlier if I knew anything about fattigman and I had replied, 'Yes, It's a Norwegian cookie.' Of course, even I can be wrong sometimes. This fattigman was a highly entertaining children's game/song led by C-G and Brita (have I mentioned that I think they're awesome?).

Once the rich man became poor, we all sat around the fire again, and I arrived at that eventually from above, joining Martha and Chris with my fiddle. We played some great tunes. We played them at a blistering, undanceable speed, but they were hot! We even took requests from some of the locals who came down to the fire to join us. (Three young men!)

We played until the mosquitoes were winning and then turned in for the night. In the morning each group of dancers got one more round of classes. We washed our last bits of laundry (in the direct Swedish sun, it hangs dry in about two hours), presented our dances, and crammed everything back into the suitcases. We were on our way to Östersund!