A Month of Bicycle Commuting In Sweden, 1997 (Part 2)

The rain holds off until about two minutes before I walk into Saab-Ericsson. Timed perfectly. I wonder how these people do it?
 

The course goes well. I'm beginning to enjoy this sort of thing again. Real students with real brains. Why can't we find them in the US?
 

One older guy joins the group. He is conspicuous, with a slumped stance, a large briefcase, and a weathered smile. He looks like someone who has come from Stockholm; indeed, he arrived this morning on the train (Let's see...three hours on the train, plus connections...he must have started around 4 AM!) He collars me at the coffee break and we get to talking. He works for a company doing automotive radar work. After class, he stops by my office and we discuss things for an hour or so, and he feels me out a bit about consulting for them. I do nothing to discourage him!

By time to leave, the rain has stopped, and it's a pleasant ride home. Even when there has been recent rain (which seems to be just about anytime), the streets are not messy. I don't arrive home splattered with street schmutz.

Dinner is sausage and beans, and (of course) a beer. Then I settle in for some work on my laptop.

To point out the obvious, it's almost May. Thursday is, of course, May Day, which is the equivalent of Labor Day in the US. Here all the socialists get out their red underwear, attach it to a flagpole, and parade around town. I suppose this gets it out of their systems for another year.
 

Today the course goes well, again, and people finally are showing up at my office and asking questions. Two of the guys from Ericsson Microwave come up to me after class and ask if I could spend a day at their place doing some consulting for their projects.
 

It's raining today. Bicycling in the rain is losing its novelty. I kick up a lot more grit and dirt these days than I did the first few trips, probably because my hill-climbing legs are getting stronger and I'm going faster. I have been parking the bike in my apartment, but tonight I park the bike outside for the first time. I really think it's safe, with the big lock I have, and I'm tired of the amount of dirt it brings in.

I go out walking in the evening, primarily to take out the garbage and to see what the large grocery store at the bottom of the hill on Utlandagatan is like. Unfortunately, it is closed. Instead, I walk up the hill on Eklandagatan and go back home by one of the pedestrian cut-throughs. Probably about a mile of walking. My ankle holds up OK, not great. I get a good look at the restaurant just this side of the grocery; not bad, all in all. Maybe a good place to take Julie. Very few other places are really within walking distance, and I don't feel like riding around in the rain, checking them out in detail.

I call Julie this afternoon, or this morning at her end. Really good to talk to her. She seems to have everything under control--what else would you expect? It will be good to see her. I think I better buy some food. There's nothing left around here, and David, the thirteen-year-old gastronomical black hole, will descend on us shortly.
 

Today is the last course session at Saab-Ericsson. I think that the whole thing has gone quite well, all in all. Still, I'm glad it is over for awhile. I can relax a little.
 

This morning, fortunately, the rain stops and the roads dry off pretty well. By mid-day we have clear sky and sunshine teasing us again. (Any minute now, it'll be pouring.) I have lunch with Herbert Zirath and Hans-Olof. After lunch, we walk outside to get a taste of the fresh air and sunshine, rare and wonderful as it is in southwestern Sweden.

I bike home a different way tonight: down the back side of the hill, past Ericsson Microwave. This is no shorter than my usual route, but it is a change of scenery. It goes down a long, narrow driveway, through the woods, just starting to come alive with the springtime. The roads are a little complicated, but I find my way across the valley and onto a road that I know will take me most of the way home. On the way home, I discover a little city of garden houses. Tiny houses surrounded by garden plots, many of which are beautifully landscaped, miniature country estates. Julie will be thrilled!

The bike commuting is going well; the only thing I'd do differently is to avoid the back pack. I'd use a rack and pannier bags instead; the pack gets pretty heavy and hot. These cool, dry days are nearly perfect for bicycle commuting, though. Let's hope they last. (Well, I can hope, can't I?)

Today is, of course, a holiday. Most stores and businesses are closed. Saab-Ericsson is closed, so I'm here at home with virtually no groceries. This morning it's cloudy, and it looks as if it could start raining any second. The local grocery store opens at 11:00, but I'm tired of it. Not enough variety.
 

I walk to the nearby, larger grocery. It's closed today. I bike down to the big place at the bottom of the hill, and it's closed all day, too. Not knowing what else to do, I bike into town, the usual loop past the train station and then west across town. It's a nice day for biking, cool and overcast. About 10:00 a few stores start to open, mostly cafes. I see a few small grocery stores open, but they're not much better than the local one, and it's not worth carrying a lot of stuff all the way back.
 

Around noon the sky clears, and it looks like it will be another sunny day. An hour later it looks like rain. Then sun again, then threatening. Typical Göteborg weather. I learn to ignore it, always bring my rain suit, and just go wherever I need to go.

Biking across the downtown area, I see a few groups of young people in traditional Scottish dress: tartan kilts and such. These definitely are real Scots, not Swedes in drag. I had noticed a sign on the sports arena that said, "Welcome Scottish Supporters," which may explain them.

Finally I do some shopping, but just enough so we have dinner Friday night. I don't know what else to do--there isn't enough stuff in the local market for more extensive grocery-buying. Maybe Julie and I can do it together on Saturday.

I spend the afternoon trying to work, but it's such a nice day it's difficult. I go out again, this time to the botanical gardens. Again, up the hill past Sahlgrenska (the big, local hospital) and down into the valley. There is no obvious bike parking, but everyone seems to lock their bikes to the iron fence, so I do, too. Now, I have to walk; I hope my ankle holds out. I find a map and plan a route that might minimize walking.

The gardens are really nice, well kept, with lots of trees, flowers, and flowering plants. It gives me the impression of something about to explode: one more week, and ka-POW! Blossoms everywhere! I walk quite a bit, maybe too much. I climb a hill and, standing on a formidable rock outcropping, I get a spectacular view of the city. From there, I can see that I have really have walked more than I should. I head back. Just as well: when I look at the map again, I see that the botanical garden is just one end of a woodland and mountain park that extends almost to Mölndal, a town at the far side of the city!

I get up at the usual time and work at home until about 9:15, then head for Saab-Ericsson. The security guard knows me by now, and I have no trouble getting in. This is my two-week anniversary and my last day stationed here at S-E. It's a nice day, lightly overcast and about 60 degrees. For the first time, I ride to S-E without a coat. But my rain suit is in my backpack; I'm no fool.
 

The parking lot is about half full. Today is the one day between a holiday and the weekend, so many people are not here. As you might expect, things are pretty quiet. The computer folks take advantage of the pseudo-holiday to work on the network; no email this afternoon. Most of the people I know are around, though, so I'm still useful.
 

About 2:30 I bike home. Hans-Olof picks me up at 3:00. Today we have some errands. Julie and David are arriving today, so we must pick them up at the airport. Also, the TV still does not work, because we need a decoder box, and it seems to require the full energy of several expensive engineers from Saab-Ericsson and Chalmers to get it. The decoder is in the name of the guy at Chalmers who ordered it, and he has to claim it at the post office in person. Therefore, we need to go to Chalmers, pick him up, then to the post office, take him back to Chalmers, and proceed to the airport. We are quite early, so we sit in the car and listen to CDs on the very nice audio system in Hans-Olof's new Volvo. We then go into the terminal (seeing some kilted Scotts getting ready to leave) and wait in a spot where we can see Julie coming through passport control. We connect; she see us across the terminal as soon as she comes in. A few minutes later she emerges from customs and we're on our way. Gee, it's good to see her.

Julie has brought me more reading material and a few CDs. Great!

Friday night: Julie and David are zonked. I make dinner, pasta al Steverino , the way I've been doing it. We crash early. David falls asleep with a book open beside him. We cover him up, still dressed, and that's that.

We're so busy on Saturday that I'm writing this on Sunday afternoon.
 

Saturday: Julie and David get a decent night's sleep and are up and rarin' to go this morning. First we do some grocery shopping at the larger grocery at the bottom of the hill. We decide to do the art museum, which is within walking distance for them, and within bicycling-alongside distance for me. On the way to the museum, we cross paths with Dave Rutledge and wife. At least she gets a chance to meet Julie.
 

The museum is as great as ever; not a huge collection but a very nice one. Lots of stuff by Anders Zorn, Axel Gallen-Kalela, and a collection of other Nordic artists most of us American homeboys haven't heard of. There is a large temporary exhibit of works by Bruno Liljefors, a nature artist. Most of his stuff is technically OK but intellectually I find it pretty superficial. We walk through the first half of the exhibit, and then just ignore the second half. At that point we've covered the museum pretty well, so we have a quick snack in the cafe and head off toward the harbor area.

On the way back, we stop at the train station and make reservations for Julie's and David's trip to Stockholm. We don't buy the tickets, because they can get 25% off if they can show their steamship tickets to Helsinki, which (of course) they don't have. We (OK, they) walk home along a street that more or less parallels the avenue, but leads us to the bottom of the hill on Rydbergsgatan.

At home, Julie makes chile for dinner, which we wash down with a couple of Pripps beers. They walked the entire way, and they're all tired. My ankle is pretty much at its limit. To have something to do, I try to hook up the TV decoder. It doesn't seem to work. I try everything, but no dice. Finally, I am forced to conclude that it's defective. I can get a very weak signal on most channels, but not enough to capture the sync. I can get a broadcast station off the air if I disconnect the cable and hold my finger on it. Damn! What a comedy of errors!

In the evening we figure out the laundry system, do a load of wash, and read All Creatures Great and Small to each other. Beats TV any day.

Today we get up bright and early at 7:00, have breakfast, and head out. Today we are off to Ellsborg Fastning, the old island fortress in the harbor. I guess it qualifies as a castle, although it was built much later (~1700) than the castles of Europe. Its original purpose was to protect Göteborg from the Danes. The fort was in use until the late 1800s, although not always as a military installation; at one point it was used as a prison.
 

Again we walk/bike into town. On the way, we stop at the train station and Julie buys her train tickets. This way, tomorrow she can just hop on board. While she is in the station, I stop at the bus-information stand and get some schedules for the bus lines we will probably need most. She will need a bus to the train station for her trip to Finland.
 

I park the bike outside the ferry terminal, locking it to the rack. MY LA instincts tell me to be concerned, since it will be there several hours, but my higher intellectual faculties tell me it will be OK. The ferry ride to the castle is very pleasant, and the ferry captain provides sight-seeing narration in three languages (Swedish, German, and English). We get a unique view of the harbor this way. On the island, we have a guided tour in English, in spite of the fact that some of the visitors are German and Swedish. (Although the guide is willing to give her talk in German and Swedish too, the few Swedes and Germans speak good English and would rather not sit through the whole thing twice.) David has a great time skulking though every creepy little room and closet. We have a snack--not a lunch--at the cafe. It's nice just to sit awhile. We kill a half hour waiting for the boat back to the mainland.

Julie and David are tired, and it is easy to talk them into taking the bus home. I have a ten-minute head start, so I'm waiting at the bus stop when their bus arrives. At home we relax a bit, and Julie starts an early dinner, pork chops and roasted potatoes.

In the evening, Julie and David pack for their trip to Helsinki. Looks like I'm losing them again. But just for a couple of days. Typically, it has started raining. I have plenty to keep me busy; tomorrow we start at Chalmers.

We're up at 6:30. We have our usual breakfast, and I leave for Chalmers. Chalmers is probably close enough for me to walk, but I take the bike, just to be safe. Julie and David take the bus to the train station. At Chalmers I promptly bump into my old friend Iltcho Angelov and Hans-Olof. They get me established with an office with a Power MacIntosh computer. I try to launch Netscape and it completely hangs the poor little Mac. When it comes up again, I quickly discover that it uses a Swedish-language version of the operating system. This is gonna be a long two weeks!
 

Dave Rutledge is one or two offices up the hall from me. He and I are invited to attend a seminar class given by an EM prof at Chalmers which, later that afternoon, we attend. I do some writing. I copy some technical papers and spend some time reading them. In short, I blow off the afternoon like a US academic.
 

In the evening there is a university-wide get-together for visiting faculty. I think about it and finally decide not to go. I feel a little awkward showing up alone, giving them no warning that I'm coming. They don't know who I am; I could be someone who walked in off the streets. Instead, I go home to an empty apartment, have leftover chile for dinner, and read for a couple of hours.

I ride to school without bringing rain gear. I'm really living on the wild side! As I leave, I feel a light drizzle.

I spend most of the day working on some technical problems. In the afternoon, Eric Kollberg mentions a problem regarding a certain type of millimeter-wave doubler, and I spend more time than I should playing with it.
 

Remember the decoder for the TV? As of this morning, it still doesn't work. Over the last few days the folks at Chalmers have called the cable company a couple of times, but so far no luck. This evening I futz with the TV some more, and, whattaya know, it's suddenly going! I have leftover pasta for dinner, and spend the rest of the evening watching the tube instead of working. See? Told you this would happen!

I'm still working on this damned problem that Eric suggested. It's easy to see what happens to either a nonlinear capacitor or a nonlinear resistor, but the combination is hard to deal with. I really should be able to do this faster. I spend too much time making money. My analytical skills are getting rusty.
 

Today I wear the full rain suit and bicycle to school. It is not far, and not raining when I leave, but far enough and wet enough to get splattered by time I get to Chalmers. Besides, I'm wearing clean pants, and God knows how heavily it will be raining when I leave. So, I bring the full kit: rain suit, backpack, etc.
 

Today the department head and a couple other major departmental players have invited me out to lunch. This is a formal, academic-visitor lunch, for which there is a special ritual. We are in a separate part of the university dining room, where there is a waitress, plenty of beer, and an especially nice lunch which, according to tradition, includes some national specialty foods. This is a standard sort of experience throughout Europe and Scandinavia; a very civilized custom.

I work into the afternoon, as much as my overfed and slightly inebriated state allows. The rain has stopped. I head home, with plans to do some bicycling.

It's really a nice evening: sunny, with lots of puffy clouds and blue sky. I have a ham sandwich for dinner, change, and head out on the bike. I start in a direction I have never gone, but eventually I find myself at Sahlgrenska, the hospital I pass often. I continue to Linneplatsen, the transfer point for our journey to Iltcho's home on Friday (did I mention this? We're going to see Iltcho on Friday) just so I know where it is. I continue through the park on the far side of the highway; I have never explored it before.

The park is wonderful! It reminds me of the parks in Düsseldorf when I was 9 years old. It has much the same feel. I bike up about half a mile of steep hills, following a sign to an observatory. Yes, it's there, on top of the hill, where all good observatories are located. But it's closed. However, right next to it is a huge Romanesque stone tower, like a castle tower. A beautiful structure, but with no apparent purpose, except perhaps as an observation platform. I bike around a bit more and find a spectacular Romanesque church, stone and brick, perched on a promontory overlooking the harbor. It's a clear evening, and the view is wonderful.

Of course, since it's a nice (if cool) evening, people are picnicking on the hill overlooking the harbor. One pair of guys even has a charcoal grill, lots of food, and probably (if they are true Swedes) a case of beer. I'm continually amazed at how people take advantage of "good" weather here. On any sunny day, especially a weekend, the downtown is mobbed and the sidewalk cafes are full. The temperature might be 45 degrees, but it doesn't matter; this is about as good as it gets, and if you want lunch alfresco, now is the time.

I continue down the hill toward the harbor, straight through the park by the canal to the Avenue, and home the usual way. It's still nowhere near sunset even as I write this (well after 9:00 PM.) Even as the sun begins to set, its path makes such a slight angle to the horizon that twilight lasts for hours. It's a summer night in Sweden. Quiet, soft, and at peace.

The three-week anniversary of my departure from LA. Or, so it will be in about 9 hours.
 

Today is a beautiful, sunny, clear day, but still a little cool. I get up and head for Chalmers, and, noting the light traffic, remember that it is a holiday. Ascension day, not celebrated in the US. Still, I come to Chalmers, at least to check my email and send back a review for one of the technical journals. Boy, those guys are good at finding me. I'm glad they don't work for the FBI!
 

I do some work and then head home. It is, after all, a holiday. I buy some groceries, have lunch, and work a bit in my room, waiting for David and Julie to come home. They do, around 2:45. Both are bubbling over; they had a good trip. The steamship between Stockholm and Helsinki, unfortunately, had the usual collection of party types, who raised hell all night, and the food was not as good as on the Viking line. So much for the experiment of trying a different boat!

One of David's jobs is to interview someone about his experiences during world War II. He has a wonderful interview with Reijo, our older friend in Finland. He undoubtedly will have done the best job in his class on this assignment.

I get a call from Hans-Olof. Herbert Zirath is still really sick, so dinner on Saturday is off. Bummer! Tonight's affair is still on, however, and Iltcho stops by to give me final instructions for getting to his place. Seems easy, but he is concerned that we might get lost.
 

Thursday was a genuine holiday, but today there aren't many people around, either. The usual story: holiday on Thursday, everyone takes off Friday. Still, Iltcho (workaholic that he is) is here, as is Dave, and a few others. If I'd known that so few people would be here, I would have ditched school and gone touristing with Julie.
 

Pretty uneventful day. I do some work, and about 3:00 go home. It rains all day. So what else is new?

When I get home, Julie is there. Instead of the Maritime Museum, she and David found a bus and went to Bohus Castle in Kungalv, about 25 km north of town. It is a good ol' creepy castle, full of dark passages and old rooms that have filled with water. She and David climbed around this place for two hours. They had a blast, but they're tired.

We go to Iltcho's house for dinner. Dave Rutledge, who is part of the party, meets us at our place and we travel together. I am apparently the guide, since I have figured out the bus routes (in theory, if not in practice.) We take the bus to Linneplatsen, and transfer to a trolley. The trolley parallels the route I often take to Hans-Olof's house, but eventually splits off toward uncharted territory. On the trolley we meet a pair of (very) young American Mormon missionaries. They approach us, but fortunately do not try to proselytize. Instead, they are curious to know who we are, and what brings us to Sweden. We tell them, but they seem more puzzled than informed, as if they're thinking, "Is that what college teachers do?"

We arrive at Iltcho's on schedule. His wife, Svetla, is there, as is his daughter Milena. Milena has become a delightful young woman, and she apparently is very bright, too: she has won 3rd place in Sweden in math, three years in a row. Iltcho and his wife seem especially pleased that we visited them; we are especially pleased to have the invitation. A good deal all around.

On the way home we reverse the process, taking the trolley and then the bus. A very well dressed but thoroughly plastered young woman gets off the trolley where we get off to transfer. She then proceeds to play in the street, dancing on the trolley tracks, and just wandering around. Finally she falls and can't get up. Dave is concerned that she might get hit by a trolley or a car, so he scrapes her up and leads her to a nearby hospital, where some people agree to call her a taxi. At that moment our bus appears, and Dave has to run to catch it. Luckily he does; it is the last one of the night. Riding away, we wonder if she'll remember any of this tomorrow.

I'm only a week away from my return to LA. Julie goes home tomorrow.
 

We start by going to Chalmers, where I have a phone, and call KLM to see if we need to reconfirm our reservations. Apparently we don't need to, but we do anyway. I also reserve a taxi for 5:00 AM Sunday. Her plane leaves at 7:00. Looks like we're in business.
 

From there we continue to the Natural History Museum. (She walks, I bike; Julie is a serious walker.) This is an old-style natural history museum, with lots of stuffed birds, drawers of butterflies, and strange and wonderful things preserved in formaldehyde. The top floor has a room full of stuffed animals, some a little disturbing: chimps, an orangutan, many other endangered species, baby animals. From the dates on the information cards, we can see that most were collected around 1900. Still, it bothers us a bit.

Julie and David take the bus home, while I bicycle. I make a quick loop through the park; I wanted to take a look at the flamingos we saw from the trolley last night. Just to make sure they're real. They are. I see something a little way up a hill, and I ride up to investigate. It is a seal tank, with two or three harbor seals in it. Every park should have one!

But the main thing about the park is the people. Relaxed, walking, pushing strollers, riding bikes, playing with kids, selling balloons, buying balloons, running and laughing, being themselves. And, even though it's a far from perfect day, there are a lot of people here. I like being one of them.

I feel comfortable here; I feel like I belong, especially when I'm out on the bike, tooling around town, doing what the natives do. And, although there are not many Americans here (last night notwithstanding), there are a lot of people from other countries. Except that it might lose some points for the cost of living, which is probably about 25% higher than in LA, Göteborg would easily make the top-ten list of livable cities if it were in the US.

The alarm goes off at 4:20 AM. Julie has a taxi reserved for 5:00. Julie and David get a quick breakfast, but I don't eat; I just don't feel like it, and in reality, neither do they. I get them out to the curb at 5:00 sharp, where the taxi is already waiting. After they leave, I return to the apartment and try to get a little more sleep. Just as I'm about to give up trying, I notice that two hours have passed almost instantly.
 

At 5:00, with the sun already up, it looked like a great day: bright blue sky and few clouds. By 7:00 there is a light mist, turning to drizzle, and by 9:00 it's raining. I had toyed with the idea of biking to Kungbacka, 25 km south, but since it's raining this is definitely out.
 

I spend some time working, but after a few hours, I need to get out. I decide to go to the Maritime Museum. The rain has stopped, for the moment, so I take the bike. Ever wary, I still take my rain suit.

The Maritime Museum consists of an aquarium and a museum depicting mostly transportation and commercial shipping practices from the late 1600s to the present. The aquarium is pretty small and not well kept; I don't spend much time there. The rest of the museum is full of wonderful ship models and displays. There are intricate models of all types of ships, including one of the Vasa, the ship that sank in Stockholm harbor when it was launched, in the mid-1600s, and recovered 300 years later, in the 1960s. Models of the elegant travel steamers of the 1920s look like something out of Poirot mysteries, and there is a lot of information on modern shipbuilding and ship technology. Too bad I can't read any of it: nothing is in English. But the displays and pictures are great.

On the way home, I stop by the concert hall and score a ticket for the Schubert chamber-music recital tonight. I hurry home, since the concert begins at 6:00, buy a slab of hamburger on the way in, fry it, eat it, take a bath, iron a shirt, and I'm out by 5:20. It takes only a few minutes to get to the concert hall (the rain has stopped; I'm tempted to say finally, but rain stopping is never final here) and I'm waiting when the doors open at 5:30.

The concert is in a small recital hall in the same building as the main concert hall. It is a much more attractive hall, wood paneled (a medium shade, not the bleached wood so popular elsewhere), with dark blue velvet seats. The front of the small balcony is decorated in wood inlay, very unusual for a concert hall, but striking in appearance and entirely appropriate.

I sit next to a nice guy about my age who is a civil engineer turned computer consultant and, like me, a lover of clarinet music. We have a nice chat during intermission.

The Schubert is great: two lieder and the octet. The clarinetist who accompanies one of the lieder is not great, but she is "alternate principal" of the orchestra. I think that my son Ben and his girlfriend Deb are both better. In the octet, however, there is a spectacular cellist, a young woman who appears to be about 18, although she's probably considerably older. (How come Swedes seem always to look young and healthy? Is it illegal to be old, fat, and frumpy in this country? In any case, I think I've picked out a wife for Ben; now, to find some way to get them together.) The concert nevertheless goes well, and I enjoy it immensely. The octet is really neat; a little of everything. When I leave, the rain has still stopped, the streets are almost dry, and it is a beautiful, warm, sensuous evening. I ride home without a coat.

9:00 PM: I look out the window. It's raining again.

Still raining when I get up, but it's stopped by time I leave for school. By mid-morning, the sky has cleared, and the temperature must be up to 60 F. Nicest day yet.
 

Today I teach again. Heavy stuff, harmonic-balance analysis. I lose about half the students' attention as the material gets more difficult. Some serious interest here and there, but some blank faces too.
 

After class I go out to lunch with Dave Rutledge at the small restaurant in the nearby industrial park. The restaurant is called Einstein, a name that is unimaginative and more than a little pretentious. The name is also appropriate, in the sense that it probably does better in modern physics than in cooking. We have a good conversation and a mediocre meal. The food is not nearly as good as at Saab-Ericsson, and, even worse, I have to pay for it.

More teaching today. I go through the material, but it's pretty heavy, and I'm tired. After lunch I go to Ericsson Microwave for consulting work. I only spend about two hours there; I don't think I'll bill them; it doesn't seem to be worth the trouble. After all this, I'm exhausted.
 

But, what's a little exhaustion when it's a beautiful evening and the bike path is calling? I grab a small snack for dinner (I had a good lunch) and head for the road. First stop is Slottskogen, the big park. I have a vision of sitting in the park slurping an ice-cream cone. But, it's not to be: the park is mobbed by people. There is some type of organized walk; all the walkers have numbers pinned to them, and cars are lined up on the main street, trying to get to the park. I have a hard time getting through the park with the mobs of people, and I give up and head for the road again. I wind around town and work my way out to the coast southwest of here. After following my nose through some residential areas full of beautiful, single homes and modest but neat row houses, I get to an area called Fiskeback, with a beautiful harbor and a view of the archipelago. I realize that it's a postcard day, and I didn't bring the camera. Damn!
 

I find my way back along unfamiliar roads and some familiar bike paths. Eventually I get to the harbor, and go home the usual way. Riding up the Avenue, I see that the sidewalk cafes are full, even though it's a weekday.

This morning the sky was blue, and I even considered going to work without a raincoat. I brought one anyway. Good choice: by noon it is cloudy and looks like rain again. I go out at lunchtime and feel the beginnings of a little drizzle. In an hour it is raining lightly again.
 

Today I teach a little in Eric Kollberg's microwave class. The students are a little bored, but perhaps they would be bored for anyone. It's right after lunch, and maintaining attention is pretty difficult. I cover much of the material on power amplifiers, but, of course, in two hours I can't cover it all.
 

After the class I meet with Julie Lancashire, the London-based aquisitions editor from Artech House (the publisher of my four books), who is visiting Chalmers. She has been my "e-mail pal" for a couple of years, yet I have never met her. We have a nice discussion about both business and personal things. It's nice to meet her face-to-face at last. We talk for a half hour or so, and then she's off to the airport. Going to Denmark and Helsinki next.

A nice, boring evening, watching some TV and reading. I make pasta (again) for dinner. It's raining.

More teaching. Only one more day, after today. This has been quite a long haul.
 

In the evening I clean out the refrigerator and start to pack. Finally I watch some TV and finish reading All Creatures Great and Small, a book that deserves more respect than the trivializing way it has been treated. It's much more than a "feel good" book.
 

I'm ready to go home. This is fun, but when it's over, it's over.

Last day. Fortunately, today we cover a section of the course I have taught frequently, so it goes well. Hans-Olof is here; he wants to sit in on this part of the course. He volunteers to drive me to the airport (accepted; thanks!) and have his son ride the bike back to his neighborhood and return it. Quite a good arrangement, actually. Saves me some grief.
 

Tonight I'm invited to Erik Kollberg's house for dinner. In the early afternoon I ride into town looking for a house gift. I settle on a box of Finnish chocolates, Fazer Wiener Nougats. Looks good to me, at least. I don't know how local stuff is viewed; unless I'm careful, I might get trash chocolates without knowing it. This should be safe.
 

Today the weather is not only pleasant; it's hot. California weather in Göteborg. The apple, cherry, and plum trees are flowering all over town. Downtown, in the park, rows of flowering trees seem to have detonated in an explosion of pink blossoms. On the way home, I stop at a "korv" (sausage) and "hamburgare" (guess what) stand for a sausage sandwich. I then make a quick stop at an ice-cream stand for dessert.

In the evening Eric picks up both Dave and me and takes us to his place for dinner. Eric's house is very nice. It is large by Swedish standards, located in a small development out in the country, well away from the city. From the living-room window, you see a green common area with a small playground and forested hills in the distance. It's a California evening, so we sit on his wooden deck enjoying the evening while reducing the wine content of the universe a little.

One thing seems strange: the Kollbergs don't follow the Swedish custom of removing shoes on entering a house. I see no shoes parked by the door, and Eric walks in boldly in his street shoes. I follow suit, but I feel a little uncomfortable. Does this discomfort mean I'm turning into a Swede?

Apparently the Ziraths have been invited along with another Chalmers professor and his wife. They are delightful people, and I relish the chance to meet Herbert and his wife, Hannele, again, socially. Dinner is wonderful, a large smoked salmon. Swedes seem to have the same love of sauces that Finns do; everything comes with either gravy or some type of creamy sauce. Tonight it is a cold cream and caviar sauce, which fortunately is pretty good. Normally I don't like that kind of thing, but this time it's delightful.

The evening ends about 11:00 and the Ziraths drive me home. It's a warm, peaceful evening, and at 11:30, when I finally get to my room, it's still twilight. I relax, unwind a little, and finally crash around midnight. I've already done some packing; there isn't much left to do tomorrow.

This morning I get up around 7:30, have a quick (and very simple) breakfast, do some cleaning, take out the trash, and finish packing. By 9:00 I'm ready to go, but Hans-Olof isn't picking me up until 9:45. The morning is warm but cloudy and it is drizzling slightly when I take out the trash. I am not at all nostalgic about leaving. It's been fun, but now it's over, and I'm eager to get back to Los Angeles. Can you believe that's possible?
 

True to form, Hans-Olof arrives right on time, with his older son Juan in tow. Juan takes the bike and heads off home while Hans-Olof and I head to the car with the two suitcases. In the car, he apologizes for not coming to more of the lectures at Chalmers, but he has been quite busy at Saab-Ericsson; this has been obvious to me, and no apology is necessary.
 

A nice day is shaping up in Göteborg. Although there are a few raindrops, it will probably be warm, at least, with minimal rain. In Sweden, you don't get much better.

The plane is more than an hour late leaving Göteborg, and I'm a little worried. I should have plenty of time, but I know that small delays have a tendency to stretch into longer ones, especially when airplanes are involved.

We arrive in Amsterdam, and it's hot. And humid! I don't expect Holland to be like this; it's like New York City in July. I have to take a bus from the plane to the terminal (always a time-waster), and I get to the gate just as the plane to the US is starting to board. Of course, it leaves late, so there really was no need for concern. Something about me and air travel: I can be two hours early, and still worried about missing a plane.

So here I sit on the plane, typing away at my little laptop on battery power. I don't like long plane trips, of course, and the prospect of mongo jet-lag doesn't help, either. A nice Grolsch beer (pronounced "hccchhrooowwlsch" in Dutch) does help, and after one beer and finally getting some food, I feel a bit better.

I get home. Julie is waiting, and we're a family again. Life is returning to normal again. (Well, as normal as it ever gets...)

I've returned to Göteborg a couple of times in the past two years. Most recently in August, 1999, to visit Iltcho at Chalmers, as a side-trip after a visit to Finland. Hans-Olof has moved to Ericsson Microwave, but Chalmers is still just as I left it. Iltcho Angelov was taken quite sick in mid-1998, landed in the hospital, and scared the hell out of us. He seems to be on the mend; he was able to travel to LA for our big symposium in June. I'm planning to visit Göteborg again in December, when I will be an examiner in a Ph. D. exam. I toy with the idea of doing some serious touring there, perhaps following the coast or the Göta Canal from Stockholm to Göteborg. First, I need to find some free time. Then, a damn good rain suit.

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