I've been meaning to tell you this for over a year.......

There is actually a hostel at the airport in Stockholm that is built into a 747 Jumbo Jet.  I kid you not.

In 2009, after spending time together in northern Sweden, Sara was flying back to Macedonia and Charlie and I were heading back to Maine so we were looking for someplace to stay the night before our flights.  Stockholm hotels were out of our price range which is why we had been spending our time up north reindeer country.  But, Sara, being young and wise in the way of youth hostels, found us the Jumbo Hostel at the Arlanda Airport.

After returning our rental car, we walked across the street to what looked like a gigantic plane parked in a field.  It was, actually, a gigantic plane parked in a field.  A series of metal airport-like steps led up to the entrance where we were immediately told to take off our shoes.  I'm not sure why, but I am a rule-follower so the shoes came off.

The rooms were off a narrow corridor and were small but we fit.  There was a double size bunk on the bottom in our room and a little crow's nest upper bunk that little Sara could squeeze into.  Our suitcases went under the bottom bunk and there was room for one of us to stand up at a time--just not room enough for that one person to actually turn around.

It was great fun and cheap and very convenient to the airport.  A bus stopped right across the street to take us to the terminal.

The Jumbo Hostel is even listed as #1 on a website devoted to the World's Weirdest Hotels.

The Jumbo Jet was different and weird, but according to this website there is a hotel in Idaho inside a giant wooden dog.  I think that might be my next trip.

Sweden with Sara

Sara and I actually hatched the plot for this vacation in an early Sunday morning google chat conversation several months ago. We desperately wanted to see one another and she felt that she could use a restful respite outside of her peace corps posting. Charlie had expressed interest in the Baltics to follow his ancestry and shortly after I woke him up that Sunday morning with my jotted notes of prices, times and possibilities, it was a done deal.

So, the first week was spent in an incredible journey through art history and cultural history in Latvia and Estonia and then we flew from Riga to Stockholm. As we exited through customs, there was an adorable little American girl with a backpack, a sweet smile and a sign that said MOM. There is no picture because I was flying into her arms.

On the internet, we had found a little inn on the banks of Lake Siljan about 3 hours north and west of Stockholm called the Klockargarden. In our rented Volvo (oh yes, a Volvo--how can you not love Sweden?) we made our way out to the Swedish countryside. Charlie drove while Sara told us all about Macedonia and her experiences. We arrived at our destination just in time for dinner at the Inn. Reindeer! Yes, we ate reindeer! It was delicious and didn't taste anything like chicken. I could eat reindeer every day. Oh I love Sweden.

The Inn was just what we had hoped for. Everything was beautiful, restful and comfortable. Just the place for three people to spend time saying a year's worth of words to each other.

We spent 3 delicious, happy days in the Swedish countryside before heading back to the airport in Stockholm for one last night--and it was a doozy! Sara had found our accommodations for us. It was called the Jumbo Hostel and was located at the airport and was inexpensive and was inside a jumbo jet--yes, you heard right--a jumbo jet. I expect to post more about that some day when I am short on material.

After stowing our belongings in our overhead compartment, Charlie settled down to listen to a baseball game on the internet and Sara and I took a bus into Stockholm for one last mother-daughter evening until the next one.

The next morning, we flew off in our different directions--tears were easy for me as we headed back across the Atlantic but my ears are still full of her stories and laughter to get me through.

Last Days in the Baltics

Over the weekend we took our rental car and a good map of the Baltics and went off to see two churches that had paintings by Johann Maddaus over their altars.

The first church was in north central Latvia in a town called Tirza. Charlie had e-mailed with the pastor and he had invited us to their Saturday evening bible study. We attended and were treated like celebrities.

Charlie was asked to talk about himself and his great-grandfather which he did as we sat in a group with the pastor translating. I noticed an inchworm making its way across Charlie's lap as he spoke and gently removed it to my hand. During the bible study of I Corinthians which was entirely in Latvian, I tried to keep my inchworm within the confines of the cover of the Book of Common Prayer--it gave me something to do.

After the bible study, we went into the sanctuary and knelt before the altar for communion. Then, we did what must be universal--coffee and treats put out by the ladies of the church. We heard more stories through translation of the horrors of the Soviet Times. This church was spared the fate of being turned into a factory because the Soviet administrator in their district was kind but the church was used to store fertilizer. What I understood was that the Soviets did not actually close the churches, they taxed them at an extremely high rate and when the taxes could not be paid the churches became the property of the State. Bible study could only legally be conducted in churches and they were closely monitored by KGB. This pastor said that after he first attended church he was no longer allowed to travel.

After the lovely Saturday evening service, we drove up into Estonia for a Sunday service at a church in Paistu where there was another altar painting and another group of believers who have lived through times that I cannot even imagine.

This marked the end of our art tour and our reservation that night was in Otipaa, Estonia, which is the location of a World Cup race in Nordic skiing. We stayed in a guest house that used to be the old Soviet athlete dormitories--can you say ugly? But, it was definitely another experience to add to the mix.

Now, we are back in Riga, Latvia and heading to the airport soon for our flight to Stockholm where my beautiful daughter will meet our plane. She flew in last night and stayed in a hostel at the airport--we will all hop into a rental car and drive to Lake Siljan for a few days of relaxation, conversation and hugging. I can't wait.

White Storks in the Baltic

This trip has not just been all about visting churches and un-earthing old art--there have been WHITE STORKS everywhere!

Estonia, where we are today, is the northern reach of their breeding area. They are beautiful birds with enormous wingspans. They weigh up to 10 pounds, are about 3-1/2 feet tall and have wing spans that reach almost 8 feet.

Apparently, they bring good luck and seem very sociable, nesting near farm houses.

I got too close to this one and he took flight--I'll spare you the pictures of the struggle to get his 10 pound body off the ground, but once it was off the ground, it was grace all the way.

Soon, I saw him again perched on top of the highest, biggest, sturdiest nest that I have ever seen.

This and that

After staying in downtown Riga for a couple of nights, we rented a car and moved out into the suburbs to a hotel that we found on Booking.com called Mezaparks. It was located right on a beautiful lake. An added bonus that was not mentioned in the Booking.com information was that it was on the site of the Latvian Olympic Committee grounds. It looked like much of the construction on the facilities had ceased when the economy tanked--there were half-finished dormitories and buildings and the fields were not in the best shape but I saw enough to have me rooting for Latvian athletes at the next Olympics.

Once we checked into the Mezaparks hotel, we drove south to Rundale Palace near the Lithuania border to see an exhibit of 19th centuries portraits. The curator at the art museum had told us that one of Johann Maddaus' paintings from the museum had been loaned to the exhibit. So we drove down expecting to see one portrait and were surprised to find five! While not an art historian, I am self-employed and can imagine that perhaps portrait painting was dependable, steady income.

We toured the rest of the palace and were impressed with the opulent life style of the Russian and German nobility who used the palace prior to the 20th century. I did not find any information on how it survived the years of occupation.

The next night was Riga fest with music and art in all of the plazas. We had spent the day visiting churches and learning about the struggle for freedom and the cost of occupation but set out in the evening to experience the joy of freedom Baltic style.

At 10 p.m. (way past our Maine bedtime), Charlie joined 4000 runners in a 4.5K race through downtown Riga. What fun this all is!

Churches into Factories

This morning a Lutheran pastor who Charlie had corresponded with came and met us at our hotel to take us to see the site of a church that had one of Johann Maddaus' paintings on its alter. Foreshadowing: note the word had in the previous sentence.

He pointed out a little church in the woods as we drove past it and told us that in 1987, when he was a teenager, he read an article in Soviet Youth magazine about the pastor of this church who knew karate. He indicated that while the article was meant to ridicule the man and his congregation, he was intrigued and set out to visit the church. At that time in Latvia (what the Latvians refer to as Soviet Times) there were few churches and the ones that existed were full of KGB. Only four years later, freedom flowed through his country and they were all free to worship and to speak without fear. This pastor told us that he and many other of the current Latvian Lutheran pastors came out of that congregation.

Today, this man pastors two churches. One that has been restored from its days serving as a factory for the Soviets and the other which has not yet been restored but where services are held twice a month. It is this un-restored church where we believe one of Charlie's great-grandfather's paintings was over the altar. Whether it is in storage with some of the other artifacts saved from churches before they were turned into factories, we were not entirely clear about. I hope so.

Churches into factories
Cemetaries into roads
The systematic destruction of a culture.

Here today, even with the hardships of the difficult economic climate you can feel the energy of a culture pulling things out of the attic and digging their memories out of storage.

Riga Latvia

In downtown Riga, there is a monument called the Statue of Liberty. It was erected in 1935 during a brief period of Latvian independence and then used as a symbol of hope during subsequent occupations.

Between the World Wars Latvia was independent, but in 1940 the Soviet Union occupied the country before Nazi Germany moved in a year later. Do you remember from Hogan's Hero's the dreaded Russian Front--I think this was it.

After World War II, the Soviet Union controlled the Baltic region until 1991. Tragically, one totalitarian regime after another after another with mass deportations; nationalization of property and the suppression of national culture. It is heartbreaking to think about and just as emotional to look around this city and see the cultural pride and restoration that has occurred in the last 18 years. My parents traveled here in 1992, just after the breakup of the Soviet Union, and the description that they gave of the city does not coincide with what I see a decade and a half later.

Charlie's great grandfather was a moderately well-known artist in Latvia in the late 19th century and we are here on a exploration to learn more about him and to document his body of work for the family. Our first stop this morning was the National Art Museum where the curator showed us the one painting that awaits restoration in their archives. Another painting that has been restored has been loaned to an exhibit in a nearby palace where we will visit tomorrow.

Later in the day, we met with a historian who knew where the artist, Johann Maddaus, was buried.

Apparently, in the 1970's the Soviets began removing the grave markers from the cemetaries and putting roads and parks and buildings where families were buried. The man who helped us find Charlie's family plot told us that cemetaries had been his hobby since he was a child and he would look for the secret graves. That sent a shiver right through me--this man was my age and his childhood memories include mass killings and secret graves and the disappearance of people who dared to question.

The chapel in the picture was stripped and without a roof during the Soviet era and after 1991, the people who returned from exile in Siberia formed its congregation and re-built the church. The cross in the picture is built from pieces of the railroad that carried them to exile.

This trip is definitely turning out to be an eye-opener for me.

Tomorrow we are renting a car for a few days and heading out into the countryside to see more pieces of ancestor art in various churches throughout Latvia and Estonia.

Stockholm--August 17, 2009

We landed in Stockholm at 7 a.m., Monday morning after a night flying across the Atlantic with two children in the seats behind us alternately kicking our seats and playing with their trays--but it's all good on vacation. For the record, the food on Scandanavian Airlines was yummy. After taking the fast train into the city, we stored our luggage in a locker at the bus station and set out to explore Stockholm.

We first went to Gamla Stan which is the oldest part of the city and dates back to the 13th century. We walked the cobblestone streets and watched the changing of the guard at the Royal Palace. Stockholm has many museums and with our weary brains decided to only sample one choosing the Nobel Museum dedicated to the 800 Nobel laureats.

After walking around for six hours and starting to mumble with exhaustion, we decided that it was time to retrieve our bags and make our way to the ferry terminal. After a few missteps, we managed to find our boat 2-1/2 hours before departure giving us time to settle into our cabin and take a long nap before leaving port and heading out to the Baltic Sea. For several hours as we cruised around the islands leading to the open sea, we were in a parade with ships heading to Helsinki or Tallinn, Estonia or Rostock, Germany. After a night of being gently rocked by Baltic waves, we arrived in Riga Latvia this morning.

Two observations so far.

• I think that Europeans have enviable style, hair and body-mass indexes.
• Everyone we run into has enough english to communicate with us but we can barely croak thank you in their language. That embarrasses me.