The Allure of Regional Pride: Värmland, Sweden

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The Värmland region of Sweden is a place that seems to fill its residents with a considerable amount of regional pride. People who don’t live in or aren’t from Värmland often echo the feeling that Värmland is the most amazing place, that it would be “like a dream” to live there, and that it embodies what many consider to be “the real Sweden”. Sort of smack in the middle of everything, Värmland is mostly rural, its largest city – the virtually unheard-of (outside Sweden) Karlstad (except for IKEA furniture named after the city) is uniquely placed at a near-equidistance from the Nordic holy trinity of Stockholm, Oslo and Gothenburg. Värmland is not known for city life, of course. It’s the landsbygd – truly rural and in many ways untouched. For those who love nature, Värmland is it.

And it seems to me (in my very few years as a Värmlander myself) that Värmlanders (current and former) bond with each other – in a similar way to how people who come from a small town and meet somewhere else, far away, do. Even though Värmland is a big place and coming from the eastern edge is not totally the same as coming from the far west on the border with Norway (life there, which is where I call home, has been affected by an influx of both Norwegians and their massive border shopping centers) people connected to Värmland do seem to consider it home forever – long after they leave to put down permanent roots elsewhere. There is a sense of pride and identification with the place that people from Värmland adopt – and transplants, like me, fiercely take on. I feel protective and proud about Värmland for some really inexplicable reason. Maybe just because living here has given me the kind of inner peace that I did not really imagine ever having. I never felt at home anywhere, but Värmland is home. As exotic and wonderful as my “native stomping grounds” – Hawaii – is, Värmland is home. I spent most of my formative years in the lovely and diverse Seattle and surrounding environs. But Värmland is home. Yes, Sweden is home, but more than that, Värmland is home. When you meet Swedes, they may tell you they came from “some small town but now live in Stockholm” or will introduce themselves using the city they currently live in. But when you meet a Värmlander, it’s almost a guarantee that s/he will self-identify as a Värmlander (if their värmlandska language does not give them away! Even those who have long left Värmland still consider themselves proud Värmlanders – you can take the Värmlander out of Värmland but not Värmland from the Värmlander). The regional identity assumes almost equal importance to the national identity, and I have not noticed this anywhere in Sweden as I have among Värmlanders.

Heading into the long Easter weekend, I drove home and felt a growing sense of relief, contentment and pride once I crossed into Värmland. Happy.

Together At Last at Twilight Time: King of the Forest and Me

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“I count the moments, darling, until you’re here with me at last at twilight time…”

It had been a long while since I had seen a moose. In recent winters, it seemed as though I saw at least one each day – or at the very least, at least once a week. This past winter though I think maybe I have only seen one or two. Until this evening, as the longer days of spring stretch into a longer dusk, the twilight makes it much more difficult to see when the wildlife starts creeping out into the road. This evening, heading home, barely paying attention, my eyes were drawn to a new clearing where the area had been (sadly) deforested. A few stumps here and there and a few stray trees framed the enormous forms of two moose just standing among the stumps. I had almost forgotten how massive these creatures are – but was reminded why they are referred to as “kings of the forest”.

Immediately I thought about a news report my mom had seen after a forest fire near Seattle. The reporter on scene said something stupid like, “And now the elk are left trying to make sense of what has happened.” As if we can know what the wildlife is trying to make sense of – if anything?

I also knew I wanted to write a note about the trials and perils of twilight driving – which then made me think of the song “Twilight Time” and how my mom and I had gone on a mad chase trying to track that song down after hearing a Spanish version of it in the film Barcelona. You know – way before the internet and Spotify would have given us instant access to every song our imaginations desired.

“Here in the afterglow of day, we keep our rendez-vous…”