June 30, 2009
Generally, I prefer to be well prepared for any kind of exam. Seeing as how I haven't been in Seattle, it's been difficult to practice with Larry. The first day or so involved a lot of remembering how to dance, especially my dances (Storpolska fr. Vemdalen, Slängpolska fr Malung, Gammalvänster fr. Oviken). Things are going better now that we've been at it for a few days. Leif and Margareta are, as usual, full of gentle and constructive adjustments and, occasionally, a compliment.
The weather here has been wet and mosquito filled. We have managed to have dry enough weather for the evening camp fires and hot-dog grilling. Friday night we took a little trip down to Boda to catch the Boda Spelmann playing on home turf. David was on his way up to visit from Uppsala and met us in Boda. It was great to see him and talk to him in person (Skype is nice, but it ain't the real thing). It was really great to dance with David.
The rest of the week progressed as to be expected. General drama unfolded that comes from being with the same people for too many days in a row. Mostly we worked on our dances, relaxed and grilled hot dogs. They way things are supposed to be at Furudal.
Our last night there was probably the best, in spite of its misadventures. After dinner, four of us from Seattle (me, Larry, Tom, and Karlyn) headed down to grill the last of our hot dogs. We tried to get Bonnie to join us, but it was pretty late already. We were the only ones who headed down that night and, while we had firewood, we were lacking anything to start a fire with. Instead of grilling hot dogs, we sat and enjoyed the view and each other's company, swapping stories until the mosquitos had sucked us dry.
Cold and not quite ready to say good-bye to Furudal we stayed up late watching TV. The rest of the gang bailed sometime during the Danish mystery program with Swedish subtitles. I sure slept well once I finally went to bed!
Showing posts with label grilling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grilling. Show all posts
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Sunday, August 3, 2008
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!
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!
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