Skiing in Kitzbühel and Youthful Carousing

Cable cars above Kitzbühel

In February the Majornas high school closed for Winter Break.  As it was explained to me, Swedish students needed to escape the long dark nights and get out into the fresh air and sunshine.  Our school organized a ski week to Kitzbühel, Austria.  We were housed in a gasthaus, which was a student pension. The accommodations weren’t fancy, but comfortable. We had fluffy duvets. These were new to me since they hadn’t hit the American market yet. The furniture was rudimentary and the bathroom was down the hall.

Our pension looked a bit like this.

We were located a little out of town but close to the ski runs.  I had not skied much in my life.  When I was 10, I was invited for a ski vacation in Vermont with a friend and her family.  I fell down and broke my ankle, on the first day, so I spent the week on the sofa, reading.

Here is a picture of Gudrun taken that fall by an apple tree. I should have included it earlier.

During the week in Kitzbühel, my skiing improved quite a bit and I became increasingly adventuresome.  As I remember Gudrun was more experienced than I.  Along with racing down the mountains, we were also entranced by the ski instructors who seemed incredibly handsome and alluring.

A view of Kitzbühel

The gasthaus provided nourishing meals.  I remember the delicious kaiser rolls served for breakfast. Wikipedia tells me: “Kaiser rolls have existed in a recognizable form at least since prior to 1760. They are thought to have been named to honor Emperor (Kaiser) Franz Joseph I of Austria."

Every morning they were served with butter, jam and a delicious white cheese. I enjoyed this repast at a sunny table with a view of snow covered mountains.

Dinners were hearty with pork roast or sausages or maybe Wiener Schnitzel.  Then maybe there was a piece of apple strudel or Gugelhupf for dessert.  I doubt we had Sacher Torte but I’ll include a picture of it here…with plenty of whipped cream. Austria has so many delicious dishes.

Crispy Wiener Schnitzel

Apfelstrudel

Sacher Torte from the famous Sacher Hotel.

One evening we all loaded into a bus and went into town to see the sights and visit the cafés and bars.  I went with a group of friends into a rollicking bar.  There was singing and toasting. Being a neophyte I drank several glasses of sweet Austrian wine.  It probably tasted like soda pop to my uneducated palette.  That night, back in the hotel, I was sick as a dog.

Now let’s get back to those ski instructors.  Three of them invited, Gudrun, me and another Swedish girl to go dancing at a local hot spot.  We got all dolled up with skirts, high heels and stockings. (I can’t believe we even brought such finery on a ski trip.  But this was the 60’s)  One of the ski hunks had a car and we piled in.  It was a drive of some distance on narrow, icy mountain roads.  We never arrived at our destination because the car broke down.  The guys fooled around under the hood for a while but couldn't get the vehicle to start.  It was decided that we would begin walking until a car drove by or we passed a chalet. In retrospect this seems like a bad decision.  Perhaps the ski gods knew of a house down the road.  My German was rudimentary so I probably didn’t understand the decision to venture forth into the cold.

I don’t remember how long we walked in our high heels and stockings, slipping and sliding…and freezing. At long last we arrived at a snow-covered chalet.  A middle-aged couple welcomed us in and hustled us before a roaring fire.  They brought steaming mugs of tea laced with rum or maybe Schnapps.  I remember that my feet were freezing and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably.

Much later we got back to the Gasthaus.  It was past curfew. The door was locked so our companions hoisted us up onto a low roof and we managed to open the window to our room and climb in.  That night we three girls piled into one bed with extra comforters and cuddled to keep warm.

The next day, when I really looked at the ski instructors, I realized that they had lost much of their shiny veneer.  

  

Sexual Mores, Sandwiches and Speeches

While in Sweden I made a good friend.  Her name was Barbro and we felt a rapport right from the start. She must be commended for putting up with my broken Swedish.  Together we strolled the streets of Göteborg; window shopping and chatting.  We visited a couple of museums and went out for lunch.  I remember the delicious smörgås (open-faced sandwiches) that were much too pretty to eat.

When plans were shaping up for me to spend a year in Sweden my parents were concerned about the liberal "sexual mores" in Sweden. I mention this because Barbro had a boyfriend who went to another high school.  During the week she slept at her house part of the time and in her boyfriend’s bed on other nights.  At that time in America, this would have been shocking…and probably today as well. But her parents seemed to think this was just fine.

Several times during my stay, I was invited to give presentations to English classes at various schools in the area.  The choice of subject matter was left up to me.  The English teachers just wanted their students to have a chance to listen to American English. 

Initially, I talked about school, current music and the like. But I didn’t feel these subjects were weighty enough.  I decided to research American Indians, Religion and the National Parks.  What I needed was access to the internet so I could google these lofty issues but this was back in the dark ages. I needed an encyclopedia.

St. Andrews Anglican Church

I had attended services at  St. Andrew’s Anglican Church. This was an English language church in Göteborg. The Rector hailed from New Zealand and was all fire and brimstone…not into an up-lifting message.  But the church had a lending library that included a variety of books and encyclopedias.  I spent several weekends researching the culture and habits of the Arapahoe and Comanche Plains Indians vs.the Chippewa and Shawnee Woodlands tribes. In school my teachers had thrown those diverse peoples into the same basket. 

A Comanche squaw out on the plains.

The Chippewa claim to have the most beautiful women.

My research took on a life of its own. I remember studying the Mormon religion and wondering how anyone could take Joseph Smith for real. Then there was Mary Baker Eddy and the Christian Scientists. Somehow I claimed to be knowledgeable on these extensive subjects.  I blush now at the naïveté of my 18-year-old self.  I would have been better off discussing Elvis Presley, rock n’ roll, stirrup pants or fried clams at Howard Johnson’s.

Here is my 18-year-old self.  This was my Swedish school photo.

Swedish Christmas and a Memorable Train Trip

In Sweden the Christmas Season begins with the festival of Saint Lucia. She is credited with bringing food to the persecuted Christians who were hiding out in the Roman catacombs in the year 304.  She wore a crown of candles to find her way so her hands were free to carry bags of food.  In Sweden on December 13th, young girls don a white robe and a crown of candles and bring Pepparkakor (gingersnaps) to shut-ins.

Gudrun, my Swedish sister, wore the crown and brought Lussekatter to us for breakfast on Saint Lucia's day. These are buns flavored with saffron and dotted with raisins.

Lussekatter - St. Lucia buns

In the Jungner family Christmas was celebrated for three days.  Each day we ate special dishes and relatives visited.  One day there was a buffet with cold meats, herring in different guises, salads, meatballs and special potato dishes.  During the season we drank glögg (spiced mulled wine) on various occasions.

Glögg - warm spiced wine often served with raisins and almonds.

Gunnar, my adopted Swedish father had a special gift for me.  In a card shaped like a car, he enclosed a round-trip ticket to Paris.  There was a message thanking me for acting as chauffeur for the family.  What a kind and thoughtful gift!  I would be able to spend a week visiting my French family that I hadn’t seen for 2 years.

This trip turned out to be a riotous experience. The train left in the late afternoon.  We were to arrive in Paris in the morning. I had a seat in a couchette compartment.  This compartment had three seats on each side in the day time.  At night the seats became beds for two individuals. Above bunks folded down out of the wall to form two additional beds.  So at night six people could sleep quite comfortably.  Normally you were given a pillow and a blanket.

Daytime couchette compartment

Night time.

As luck would have it, I shared my compartment with 5 other young people.  When I slid open the door a young man got up and offered to put my suitcase up above. He introduced himself and explained that he was going to Paris to visit friends. In our compartment there were 3 guys and 3 gals. We were all young and exuberant. Each of us represented a different nationality and spoke a couple of languages. From the start we chattered away translating for each other. This brought on gales of laughter.

At Malmo, the entire train was put on a ferry to cross the Baltic Sea to Germany.  The train cars were rolled down into the hold of the ship.  Once the ferry had left port we could exit our train car and go up on deck.  There was a restaurant up there and a dance band.  The three fellows invited us girls for dinner and dancing. What a lark!  We danced until the band gave up.  Then we all went below to go to bed together in our cozy couchettes.  I remember we told stories and jokes. As I fell asleep I listened to them being translated from language to language followed by a ripple of laughter.

How wonderful to be 18 - charging into life, unfettered and joyful! I was incredibly lucky!

Sunshine, Swedish Meatballs and School

The Dalecarlian painted horse has become a symbol of Sweden.

Gudrun and I attended the Majornas högre allmänna läroverk (Majornas higher general grammar school).  Although I had a Swedish tutor that helped me with grammar and speaking, I didn’t understand much of the class lectures for the first few months of school. I mastered the art of seeming mesmerized by the lesson while my mind escaped into elaborate daydreams.

Eventually, I was able to understand the readings and lectures.  I particularly enjoyed Swedish poetry. I remember a poem dealing with the unpredictability of life. It compared our existence to a seedling clinging to life on a rocky coast, battered by waves, wind and rain. The theme reflected the rugged geography of Sweden.

Our modernized school.

I didn’t always shine on English quizzes.  As in France, students learned British English.  I used to get the wrong prepositions.  For example if a sporting event doesn’t occur due to weather, Americans say it is rained OUT.  In Britain one says it is rained OFF. To be enrolled IN a course versus to be enrolled ON a course…different FROM vs. different THAN etc. 

By Spring, I was able to sit for 8-hour-long exams.  We wrote essays on various topics that were graded by several teachers. For example we would write about the Great Swedish Empire of the 1600s. It would be graded by the history teacher for historical facts and by the Swedish teacher for the grammar and development of ideas. I imagine my opus was jam-packed with errors.

One day we participated in an all-school “orienteering” competition.  We were dropped off in the woods in groups of 4.  With the aid of a physical map and a compass, we found our way over rough terrain and through heavy woods. There were several check points before reaching the final destination. The contest took most of the day and we were outfitted with warm clothes, sandwiches and a thermos of coffee. The winning group completed the run in the least amount of time.

Orienteering tools.  Part of the trick is to carefully read the map so that your group doesn't get stymied by an impassible  stream, bog or a steep gorge.

Guess what?  They really do eat Swedish meatballs (Köttbullar) in Sweden!  They were on the school lunch menu once or twice a week.  Usually the meatballs were served with a pool of puréed potatoes and a lake of lingonberry sauce.  Another school lunch favorite was hash (Pyttipanna) served with a fried egg on top. This was also served with a lake of lingonberry sauce or sliced beets.

In the winter we left for school in the dark and came home in the dark. It was debilitating. Sometimes at noon, the girls would stand pressed against the warm wall on the South side of the school.  They would raise their faces up to the sun like worshiping sunflowers.

Breakfast in Bed and Midsummer's Night in Finland

The first morning in Sweden, I was awakened by a light tap at the door.  It was Greta, my adopted Swedish mother, bringing me a breakfast tray. I plumped up my pillows and she placed the tray on my lap.  There was a thermos of coffee and a pitcher of warm milk. Two pieces of toast were arranged on a pretty plate.  One was covered in thinly sliced cheese and the other was spread with a delicious berry jam.  I said,“Tack så mycket" (thanks so much) - one of the few phrases I knew in Swedish at that point. Breakfast in bed!  Wow!  What a treat!

This was repeated every morning.  I awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and I could laze around in bed and wake up slowly.  I wrote my mother about this delightful occurrence and she wrote back: “Debbie, I am disappointed to hear that you are staying in bed and not helping Greta with breakfast.  Get up and offer to help.  Shame on you.” You get the gist.

The next morning after receiving this commandment from home, I insisted on getting up and helping to carry trays up to the other members of the family.  Pretty soon, Gudrun was coming downstairs too and we sat at the breakfast table and had our coffee with Greta at the big kitchen table.  We chatted and laughed.  But Greta was not happy.  Finally after a couple of days, she begged me and Gudrun to stay in bed.  She wanted to sit quietly with her coffee and cigarettes and contemplate her day. She did not want help and she did not want company.  So the upshot was I had breakfast in bed for the entire year!

Savonlinna is the town where the Olavinlinna Castle is located.  See above on the East side of Finland. It's a hop, skip and  jump from the Russian border. In 1961, at the time of the Cold War, the proximity to our Number 1 Enemy provided a frisson of excitement and fear.

In the latter part of June, the family attended a Scandinavian medical conference in Savonlinna, Finland.  We took a car ferry across the Baltic to Helsinki and drove from there to Savonlinna. At that time there were not as many hotels as their seem to be now. Gunnar and Greta stayed in a hotel, but Gudrun and I were housed in an empty hospital ward.  There were perhaps 20 metal beds in the room.  

On the hospital grounds was a little rustic hut that was used as a sauna.  In the chilly mornings we donned our bathing suits, wrapped up in towels and went down to the hut. We slipped inside and sat down on our towels. I remember there was a wood fire and we threw water on it to create steam.  After roasting for 15 minutes, we flew out of the hut and jumped into the icy cold lake, screaming and laughing all the while.

On midsummer’s night, there was a medieval feast in the Olavinlinna castle.  The dinner took place on long trestle tables and we chowed down on rustic victuals like Knights of the Round Table or Viking Lords. Musicians entertained us with medieval airs on period instruments.

Olavinlinna Castle with the town of Savonlinna in the background. The town is surrounded by lakes.

Part of the magic of the evening, was that we were celebrating Midsummer’s Eve.   This is one of Sweden’s major holidays.  If you think about the long, dark winters, it’s no wonder that summer and the arrival of long, sunny days are to be celebrated. I just checked.  In Savonlinna on June 21st, sunset is at 10:57 and sunrise is at 3:16.  So there is a very brief night where it barely gets dark. People stay up all night and drink aquavit (water of life), a strong spirit flavored with spices and herbs. Children make crowns of flowers and in some villages they perform folk dances.

I remember wandering the castle after the dinner and climbing up on the ramparts as the sun set.  Later curled up in my hospital bed, I could hear the twittering of birds that were welcoming the new day.

Göteborg (Gothenburg) and Enhanced Driving Skills

Here's Sweden in orange.  Göteborg is on the bottom-left near the tip of Sweden.  It's an important port.

Göteborg

We arrived in Göteborg on a sunny day.  Gudrun’s parents were there to greet us as we stepped off the ship.  For a day or two I felt a little dizzy, as though I were still on the rolling sea.  I just learned this is called MDdS syndrome (mal de débarquement syndrome).

The family consisted of Gunnar, Gudrun’s father that we called Papa-lilla.(little daddy) - a term of endearment; Greta, Gudrun’s mother and Lars, her little brother. I remember the story of Greta and Gunnar’s romance.  Greta was somewhat of a party girl.  She wasn’t settling down with her studies and her parents were worried.  They decided to send her away to stay with an Aunt who lived in lapland in the northern most reaches of Sweden.  Up there she would have no distractions and could devote herself to her studies.  As it turned out the only eligible young man for miles around was Gunnar who was in residency in a small hospital in the wilderness.  Of course Gunnar was entranced with the pretty Greta and they became engaged. They were a happy couple but quite mismatched.  Greta enjoyed society while Gunnar buried himself in his research.

Another view of Göteborg

The Jungners lived outside of town.  Their large, comfortable house was perched on a hill above the sea. The first floor contained a living and dining room as well as a large kitchen.  Upstairs were four bedrooms and a bath.  During Gudrun’s absence, her parents had turned her bedroom into a sitting room with sofa and chairs.  A spiral staircase led up to the remodeled attic. There were two bedrooms with a bath in between.  My room was decorated in deep, royal blue and gold. The bed was built-in and surrounded by book shelves. Blue wall-to-wall carpeting covered the floor. Under the window was a desk and chair. It looked out on a road that wound down through fields to some woods and several summer cottages.  Beyond was the rocky coastline and the sea. I loved the view and that cozy little room. 

After a week or so, Gunnar came home with a new car. He presented me with the keys.  Before leaving the States I had obtained an International Driver’s License.  The legal driving age in Sweden at that time was 20 and Gudrun couldn’t drive yet. Greta had never learned and Lars was too young.  So I became the designated driver/chauffeur.  I will never forget the first day. I headed out on the road in fits and starts.  I had never driven stick-shift and I had never driven on the left side of the road.  Gudrun, Greta and Lars were all in the car and giving advice.  It was a hair-raising experience.

Maybe the car I drove was a little Saab like this.

Off to Sweden on the Kungsholm

I love the colors of the Swedish flag! Blue and yellow have been used as national colors since King Magnus III's royal coat of arms of 1275!  The cross represents Christianity. (Wikipedia)

After a year in France, I returned to the Washington D.C. area to complete high school at BCC, Bethesda Chevy Chase High School.  My French sister, Luce, arrived in the late summer and spent the following year attending school and perfecting her English.

At BCC, I made the acquaintance of a Swedish girl, Gudrun Jungner, who was in the USA because her father, a renowned biochemist, had been invited to do research at NIH. (The National Institute of Health).  He had a one year fellowship.  Gudrun  wanted to stay on after her parents left and receive an American high school diploma.  After my adventure in France, I was ready to try another international experience. (I considered myself oh-so-cosmopolitan) So together we cooked up a plan. We invited our families on a picnic.  Once our parents were sitting across from each other we sprang our plan.  Pretty sneaky! Eventually, they agreed to the exchange.  So Gudrun stayed on at my house after her parents left. A year later, after graduation, we left for Gothenburg, Sweden on the Kungsholm, a Swedish-American ocean liner.

The Kungsholm 

My parents drove us up to New York on a sunny June morning.  They accompanied us up the gangplank. Together we found our small cabin and dumped our bags.  We were hyper-excited. Up on deck we tearfully bid my parents adieu.  The majestic Kungsholm pulled away from the shore and we continued to cry as my parents disappeared from view.  Then we looked at each other, screamed with delight and started to laugh hysterically.  Our adventure had begun.  Two 18-year-old girls, unsupervised, on a week-long voyage.  We scurried downstairs to unpack.

Don’t imagine a romantic cruise, we were crossing the North Atlantic and the North Sea.  The weather was terrible and we barely went out on deck.  I was seasick a good part of the time, but that didn’t keep me down.  We participated in activities and went dancing every night.  I ate all the delicious food but didn’t always keep it down.  Sometimes I went to the swimming pool in the bowels of the ship.  Being in the pool water counteracted the effects of the roiling sea.  I remember one time going upstairs when the ship plunged sharply down a wave so that I was almost going downstairs. Oh-la-la!

I remember we drank a cocktail called a White Lady: Cointreau, gin, lemon juice, sugar syrup and an egg white; all shook up. I haven’t had one since!