Gothenburg

When I cycled into Gothenburg, I was met with clear skies and friendly faces. After making my way through mostly small towns and primarily cooking each meal with a small camp stove, I was eager to try some proper restaurant food. My first stop was an Indian restaurant. Not to sound like a broken record, but this first meal in Gothenburg provided me with my favorite Indian meal to date. Being the only patron eating in the restaurant at the time (I noticed that Sweden was not exempt with orders being primarily to-go via Grub Hub and Door Dash), my request to speak to the chef was soon accepted. I learned that he was also the owner of the place and had moved to Sweden from Northern India in search of improved opportunities for his family. After scaling the steep language barrier a few more times, I thanked him for the meal and made my way towards Haga, Gothernburg’s old town.

Reaching Gothenburg was a big milestone for me. Cycling the 350+ miles in between there and Stockholm proved that I could manage wide distances on my bike, even while camping each night. Looking towards the future, my confidence in reaching Rome on two wheels seemed more manageable than it had initially seemed. After all, I had only done a single day-long trial run with all my gear prior to my trip, so when I landed in Stockholm I had no idea how feasible my plan to cycle thousands of miles would be.

While in Haga, I tagged up with my mom’s coworker and friend Gunilla. It turned out that I had arrived in Gothenburg a few days early, so I booked a stay at a hostel downtown right near Slottsskogen, which is giant park with museums, a zoo, and several criss-crossing walking paths. Indeed, Slottsskogen felt like a stroll through a forest that happened to have well-slotted attractions for tourists and locals alike. I spent an afternoon there, and was let into a natural history museum for free on account of being a “student”.

While staying at the hostel, I befriended a people from all over the world (which became a pattern throughout my journey). I shared a room with one guy from Sweden and another from the U.S. We all became quick friends and met other people in the hostel from Australia, Whales, Germany, and more. My first night at the hostel was Karaoke night, so we all met up in the lobby and walked over at around 9pm. Though it took nearly 30 minutes to walk there, the sun was still at least partially up the whole way. I sang Karaoke for the first time that night with Cole, the guy who was also from the U.S. Of course, we sang Country Roads by John Denver. When we finished singing the crowd cheered and clapped despite how bad we sounded. We walked back much later at night and stayed out nearly until the sun rose.

The following day I went out and bought a comfortable seat to replace the plastic one I had ridden from Stockholm. My butt was soar and in need of some proper cushioning, especially if I was going to make it to Rome. That night was Saturday, which was bar crawl night for the hostel. I went out with the same crowd minus the American guy Cole, and the Swede, who had both left that morning. Cole and I had bonded over long distance cycling, since he had done a trip of similar magnitude back in the U.S. by riding from coast to coast in a bike race. I missed them that night and ended up leaving the crawl a little early.

The following morning I made my way from Gothenburg down to my mom’s coworker Gunilla’s sister’s house down in Mölndal, which was only around 10km South. Naturally, I got to the house before Gunilla, and nobody home spoke English. Through hand gestures and broken Swedish, I communicated to Gunilla’s brother in law (a short man in his 70’s who’s hard of hearing) to the best of my abilities that I was the son of Gunilla’s coworker. Not sure if this relation would put me anywhere above the average stranger, I eventually persevered in convincing him that I had planned to be there.

Gunilla arrived shortly after I did, along with the rest of her family. In total, there was about twelve of us, and we passed the afternoon eating, drinking, and chatting. The summer Olympics were underway while I was visiting, and we watched Sweden’s pole vaulter Armand Duplantis win the gold medal and world record for men’s pole vault. This sent everyone in the house into an exuberant uproar that I happily joined in on. That same evening, I mistakenly poured myself a full glass of Schnapps thinking that it was white wine. Duplantis’ victory helped me see the bottom of the glass before anyone suspected a thing.

I spent the next two nights at Gunilla’s niece and nephew’s house (names?), who also lived in Mölndal. While there, I took a day trip to the islands off the coast of Gothenburg, specifically Gonso and Styrsö. These two main islands are joined by many smaller ones in between, which constitute yet another archipelago along Sweden’s coast. There weren’t many people on the islands and there was much natural beauty to enjoy and it was easy to cycle from place to place. Everywhere I looked on each island were magenta colored flowers that contrasted well against the light gray rock and vibrant green grass. The water was smooth and it’s surface perfectly reflected everything brought before it, until a boat made it’s way through or a bird landed on top of it, which would send ripples in all directions as far as the eye could see.

After the islands I pedaled back to Gunilla’s sister’s house in Mölndal and enjoyed their hospitality and company. It felt refreshing to be around people that felt like family. It felt like I could sit and relax and not plan out my next journey, meal or water stop. It felt like the comfort of home. After receiving help with washing my clothes and being handed a day’s supply of leftovers, I began packing my stuff. While I was doing so, Gunilla’s sister and brother-in-law came over to say goodbye. I explained to them how much farther I had to go — that I was bound for Rome — and Gunilla’s brother-in-law’s eyes lit up and he asked his wife to take a picture with me. They waved to me as I pedaled away which made me sad, but the unexplored road ahead has a way of livening a traveler’s spirits and I was left with nothing but gratitude for the kindness they showed me.

This was a moment in which it became clear that there is something besides a human’s basic needs (i.e. food, water, shelter, etc.) that’s essential for an enjoyable trip — human connection. I began to see moments like being with Gunilla’s family or meeting people in hostels as opportunities to “fuel up” my social battery, which again was imperative to a successful journey. Never in my life had I felt this need so acutely as when I was traveling by myself on my bicycle.