Anfasteröd Gårdsvik => Stenungsögården

Good morning from Anfasteröd Gårdsvik!

We awoke to the most beautiful view of this campsite and thanked Anna, Ulrika, and Agnetha once again for this spot. The chainsaw had since been shut down, and the family members of our Dutch neighbors were already dueling in the "Loudest Yawn 2025 Contest." The camper zombies with their trolleys shuffled across the site here as well. Just more slowly, since the site is laid out in terraces. But none of this bothered us at all. We immersed ourselves in our usual, perfectly structured morning routine: coffee from the in-house roastery, quick business checks, and phone calls. Cleaning up the traces of the previous night's partying meant sweeping, wiping, and polishing the interior of the monster, doing the dishes, and occasionally practicing self-care. But that, of course, only comes second or third.

After cutting the last connections to our terrace with at least a tear in the corner of our eyes, we rolled downhill to the exit. We learned that this spot would never be re-occupied. They were so happy to have us there.

First, we headed for Smögen, which Kadir's friends had warmly recommended to us. It was relatively touristy, but still extremely worthwhile. No sooner said than done. The journey there took us along highways, but when we had to leave them, we were overwhelmed by the beauty of the Swedish archipelago. Shimmering water, with boats of all kinds traveling in all directions, and rock formations rising here and there. Added to that were colorful, mostly red, wooden houses that couldn't be more Scandinavian. The captain maneuvered the olive-green rock into the first large parking lot at the entrance to town. I completed my task of organizing a parking ticket to his satisfaction, so we set off on foot to downtown Smögen. I'll say it right away: our pedometer apps could barely keep up with the tally. While we had barely taken more than 1,000 steps in the past few days, today we had taken a whopping 7,764.

Smögen turned out to be exactly what we'd predicted. A pretty little village nestled in the rocky coastline with various souvenir shops and waterfront restaurants. Before we decided on a restaurant, we naturally walked around the area. After a brief debate, we opted for one of the fish restaurants and, despite the threat of rain, opted for outdoor seating. I asked the head of the culinary department to help us choose the dishes. And so, a short while later, we were treated to raksmörgås (spicy morsels) and calamari. What can I say? There really couldn't be better crab sandwiches on this planet. Unbelievable. When it finally started to rain heavily, we headed to the parking lot. After all, we still had one more destination to reach.

Since this was a matter of the heart for me, I took the lead. I drove our military-era Benz toward the island of Tjörn. This meant we had to head back toward Gothenburg. Shortly after leaving the mainland over a bridge, I drove the all-terrain vehicle to a campsite so we could secure a spot. We wound our way past the properties of Gothenburg's high society on small roads back to the coast. Naturally, all the spots with electrical hookups were taken, so I entered into a brief negotiation with the very friendly lady. Things always get done. But sometimes you have to explain that to the person ;) So we got the very, very last spot with electrical hookups. I paid and pointed out that we would be parking our mobile home in an hour or two.

Before that, we had a very special destination in mind. More than forty years ago, our homeroom teacher at the time organized pen pal relationships with Swedish girls of the same age. They lived in Skärhamn on the island of Tjörn. For all younger readers: there was a time when people wrote letters to each other and included envelopes with photos, for example. The pictures sent by Anne, Maria, Ulla, Ulrika, and Jeannette didn't diminish our anticipation of the school group's visit. And since we had gotten along so well during our days in Bremen-Huchting, Acki, Jörch, Kornemann, Nils, and I organized a ferry trip from Kiel to Gothenburg. Fortunately, we were picked up there and were allowed to stay with their respective families. Everything that happened on the outward and return journey, as well as in Skärhamn, doesn't belong in this blog post. However, I can say that it had a lasting impact on all of us and continues to have an impact today.

So now I was standing in front of the house at Sandholmsvägen 9. I rang the bell, and yes, my heart rate was a bit higher than usual. Would Anne herself or another family member open the door? It would be good if it weren't the reincarnation of Thor... and nothing happened. Unfortunately, nothing at all. I went to the house next door and spoke to the two men sitting on the terrace. One of them explained that he was a tourist himself and had been in the country for five days. The other was either on his 17th drink of the day or he simply couldn't hear or speak any better. Unfortunately.

I returned to the vehicle and noticed a person scurrying behind the curtain in the object of my desire. I decided not to ring the bell again. People certainly have a reason for not wanting to open the door to a stranger. Besides, there was a military special forces monster standing at their front door. So, this behavior is understandable.

I drove our mobile home to the next address, Gunnarsviken 11. Maria, who was staying with Jörg, was living there at the time. I made a short film for him, but didn't ring the bell. Maria's mother was already a bit touchy-feely. Especially since the captain and I had another music project in the pipeline, and the time at the campsite seemed just right for that.

So I steered the green monster back to Stenungsögården. Arriving there, we witnessed a wedding celebration. This gave us the idea of stopping by in Crocs and flip-flops. It would certainly have added a very special touch to the event.

In the end, however, we sat at the table and chairs that had apparently been set out especially for us and enjoyed the pastis conjured up by the bartender. Actually, only after we had finished off the puddles of the remaining gin and tonic as a welcome drink. That evening, another global hit saw the light of day. We could hardly tear ourselves away from all the versions and remixes. But unfortunately, at some point, the time had come and tiredness overcame us. We quickly made our way to the washroom 1.7 km away, making sure we didn't forget the access code during the walk. Suffice it to say: one of us managed to do just that, or rather, Kadir, for understandable reasons, simply walked off and came back empty-handed with a very worried expression. But we survived this test too. It was time to say goodbye and individually reflect on the day.

Good night, Captain