Looking for my viking origins

There's not much sun in Denmark. Most of the days are grey and cold, also because it is a very windy country. However, there are exceptions: two places are said to be significantly sunnier throughout the year than the rest of the country. One is Bornholm, an island in the south, off the coast of Poland. The other is Skagen, the northernmost tip of Jutland, the Danish mainland which stretches from Germany towards Norway and Sweden. This is the story of how I ventured to this very last tip of Denmark together with 4 other friends, and then continued by sea to Sweden.

The beginning of the journey

In order to get to Skagen from Copenhagen you most likely pass from Århus. Århus is Denmark's eternal second city. In terms of population, university, economy, cultural offer it gets close to Copenhagen, but it doesn’t quite reach it. Since we have only little time, we just drive through it. We only stop in a supermarket and  then continue towards Alborg. 

In Alborg, which is much smaller, we stop to check out the situation. The streets in the centre are old and decorated. There are few buildings and many brick houses of various colors. I’m thinking that it’s a pretty sweet town when we run into the Christmas market. Then it gets REALLY sweet, almost TOO perfect. But we’re all in a very good mood and we gladly enter one of the bars, where we sit at a long table. We drink mulled wine and enjoy the nice atmosphere, with music and lots of people. But mostly we drink mulled wine. In fact when we go back outside I don't feel the cold anymore and I feel quite tipsy. That was really good mulled wine…

Århus

Alborg

Concerning Vikings

One interesting thing about this area is that it was infested with Vikings. Together with Skania (the southern part of Sweden) and with southern Norway, this was the epicentre of their civilization. Now, as you know, the Vikings have never been a unified kingdom or empire. They had in common a religion, the way tobuilt boats (light, agile, shallow boats) and, how to call it... a certain "lifestyle". But they did not have the organicity of an empire. For many centuries each region was on his own and often fought against the neighbors. Sometimes, however, came the right circumstances for collaboration. One where the incursions towards "the lands of the West" (Ireland, Great Britain, France, Baltic countries, etc.). There were occasions, such as for the memorable Sack of Paris, where the Vikings joined forces to sail and torment the coasts of Europe. 

Before reaching Skagen we stumble across the Jelling Stones. Jelling is the place where Harald Bluetooth, the King of the Danish Vikings, had the conversion to Christianity engraved in stone. Legend wantsthat, behind this unexpected decision, there were Christian priests who cured him from a serious illness and convinced him that a failure to convert to Christianity would bring him back to illness and certain death. So Harold converted himself and forced his people to abandon Odin and embrace the new religion. 

What strikes me, however, is that I see no trace of the Vikings around. Beyond some curious grassy, Teletubbies-like hills, where Kings of the time were buried, nothing else remains from them on the landscape. Isee streets, white churches and country side villages but they are all from a later period. If it weren't for these stone graffiti and for ships that, from time to time, are exhumed from the Kattegat Sea, you would almost think that this whole Vikings story might just be a myth. Maybe invented where too much mulled wine was being poured...  

Parked viking boats outside of Roskilde's Viking Ship Museum

Where the Baltic meets the North Sea

In the meanwhile, we reach Skagen. A tongue of sand diving into the water. The light here, and especially the light of the “blue hour” (at dusk) has attracted many artists in the past. In the 19th century, various painters settled here and brought to Denmark the artistic revolution of the French Impressionists. They are the so-called "Skagenmalerne". 

We cross Skagen-city and head straight to the beach. The point of attraction is in fact there. That’swhere the land ends and the two seas meet each other. It's not a vision of strong impact, but it's one of thosesymbolic places. Somewhere there in the sea is also the Danish border. And we would love to swim across the opposing currents, but it's December and it's not the Mediterranean Sea, so we’re also happy to just dip our feet.

Unfortunately, Skagen is also the point where our paths divide. My friends will give a second chance to Århus on the way back, while my route continues towards Sweden. From the port of Frederikshavn you can reach Gothenburg in two hours of ferry. Always remember that you’re entering a country where alcohol is expensive and it’s only sold within the state-run System Bolaget. So you can understand the suitcases filled with beer that Swedes bring home from Denmark.

The last tip of Denmark near Skagen

The viking fellowship, from the left: Laura, Flor, Carina, Me and Callum

It's written "Göteborg", but it's pronounced "iotebori"

My cousin Adam is waiting for me at the dock. He is a second cousin (our Swedish grandmothers are sisters), same age as me and, although we have never seen each other a lot, for me he has always been thecool cousin who lives in Sweden. I will sleep at his place for a few nights and in the daytime I’ll explore the city. However we start from the nightlife: we head for a beer. The people in the pub are chill and dressed between the hypster and the scruffy. I like it. While on the next day I meet also the rest of the family. It's different to meet them in Sweden, in their neighbourhood, while it’s usually them coming to Italy to visit us. This time I let them guide me and tell me the stories of their city.

Gothenburg wasn't here in Viking times. It was built in the 1600s at the behest of the Swedish King. There was a swamp, nothing else where Gothenburg stands now. It was designed by Dutch architects, and at first it was also animated by Dutchmen, merchants who were invited to settle in and start their trade here. As time went by the city grew, especially thanks to its harbour. From here many people left looking for better luck, but once the industrial sector developed many came to stay. Volvo was born here and still has its headquarters in the city. Since the 1960s, Gothenburg became very lively and distinguished by its music scene. 

Gothenburg harbour

Fiskkyrkan is one of Gothenburg's symbols: looks like a church but it's a fish market

The district where we stay is called Majörna. For a long time it was inhabited by fishermen, then by the low working-class. The bourgeoisie didn't want to live there because it's not close enough to the centre, I suppose. Instead, today, it is a popular district, picked by families because of its “lively tranquility”. Still a little bit Soviet-like looking, Majörna lies in between the green of Slottskogen and the social corner of Håga cafés and Järntorget pubs. So you can meet funny people on the old fashion blue tram, and not only when it’s Way Out West time, Sweden's largest music festival!

But be aware, you will remain a little bit disappointed by the city. For Gothenburg is nowhere near as old,nor big, nor elegant as Stockholm. I’ve told you about its recent history, so you know what to expect. Instead of spending too much time in the center, take a VästTrafik ride from Saltholmen to the archipelago. I’m talking about a boat, public transport on water like in Venice. It costs very little and there's a cafeteria inside, where you can have a coffee and enjoy the view as you cruise along the jagged islands around the city. 

The Sailor's Tower located next by the Maritime Museum in Majorna

Somewhere in Gothenburg archipelago

The tragic epilogue of the journey

For this time I'm not staying longer in Gothenburg. I have a train to Uppsala, where I have an appointment to check out an apartment for next year. Yes! Uppsala will be soon my new home, as I’ve chosen to conclude my studies there. It's near the other coast of Sweden (60 km from Stockholm) and it's a student city, a bit like Lund is for the region around Malmö. There would be a beautiful, still running, 70-year-old train (the Blå Taget) which travels regularly between Gothenburg and Stockholm at normal prices. But I don’t know that at the time, so I get on board of a regular SJ. I don't buy a ticket, since my Interrail Pass is still valid from a previous trip.

Soon later, the conductor comes in and asks to see my ticket. He was very fast, I am not prepared.

"Just a second," I tell him. And I start looking for my pass in the backpack pocket and my jacket, but it's not there. After an awkward minute: "I'll come back in five minutes, okay?" he says.
"Okay," I say, but I've already understood: I won’t find it, I definitely left the interrail pass in my room in Copenhagen.  

So when the controller comes back I explain the situation to him. He tells me that either I buy a ticket on board or I have to get off at the next stop. So I try to buy one through my credit card, since I have no Swedish currency on me. The payment is rejected. 

I get off at the next stop which is Alingsås. I don’t know yet, but that is the hometown of my gramma.I intend to continue the journey, and I manage to buy a ticket from a from a machine. It says “from Gothenburg to Stockholm”, but I assume it twill stop here too. So I wait at the bench. Thinking that my young grandmother might have done the same 70 years ago makes me shiver. But I doubt she ever waited for a train which is not stopping there, cause that’s exactly what I’m doing. After a long time I have the confirmation from a man. Damn me! 

I buy another ticket and I go back to Gothenburg, where I try to exchange the unused ticket to Uppsala for a later one, but they won't let me do that. At that point I'm no longer in the mood to continue the journey. I don't want to spend any more money on tickets which would be free, if only I hadn't forgotten the interrail at home. So I decide that I'll end up my journey here and go back to Copenhagen. 

Back than I had no idea, but maybe the bad luck from that day was providential. Six months later I would find online the ad for Villa Varsätra, a beautiful house in Uppsala which would become the "collective" for me and my friends. That communal period changed my life and, who knows, maybe if I wouldn’t have forgotten the Interrail many things would have been completely different!

My gramma's sister Ingrid and I in Alingsås

The Black Taget

Text translated from Italian through www.DeepL.com/ and adapted