Sweden 2026 - Day 6 - The Baltic Sea

Yesterday we got our fill of the grand city of Götborg, so today we drove to the mouth of the estuary, in Langedrag, to put our foot (or Géraldine's foot to be precise) in the Baltic Sea. Everybody seems to have had the same idea, because all parking lots were full, and a stream of people was walking toward what I imagine was the beach. We went around the marina, found a parking spot, and walked along the rocky sides of the marina until the street turned into a hiking path. Some crazy old people were swimming in the sea like it was a warm tub, but when Géraldine dipped her toes in she almost turned blue.

The coast of the Baltic Sea is bound by rounded knobs of granite and gneiss, sculpted by the glaciers, in between which there might here and there be a tiny beach. Swedes of all ages were happily splashing in the water, or stretched over the boulders to catch some sun. Reminded me of the coast of Main or the coast of Brittany in France. For us it was a lovely walk, but the idea of getting in that cold water seemed like insanity (cruel parents tossed their toddlers into the frigid waters like if they were seal pups).

On the way back to the car we stopped at a tiny café, where the chatty owner was full of wisecracks. When we asked for cappuccino he answered he only had Swedish coffee ... then, after some reflection he added that it was not true Swedish coffee because that would imply a cup half full of coffee and half full of vodka. So we took our simple coffee to one of the outside tables and soon the old timer came to sit with us while trying to repair a fan. He encouraged us to look for strange things in the marina, such as someone falling from a boat or rookies getting tangled trying to launch a sailboat. Then he attempted to guess where we were from (failed miserably) and on knowing I was Mexican told me of the years he had spent working by the Mexican border in Texas, and the fun times he had in Cd. Juarez and Matamoros. The conversation then drifted into fish and I mention I had not been able to taste a real Swedish fish, like herring. He jumped up from is chair, went inside, and a few minutes later came back with a small filet of smoked mackerel, which he had smoked himself and two dollops of his self-made mayo. So I finally tried some local fish! Then, as we were saying goodbye he asked me if I wanted to try pickled herring, and on hearing my affirmative answer again went inside and brought out a jar, which he gave me as a present "because you are Mexican and I like you". He was indeed a very kind man.

After our visit to the coast we had to drive 350 km on the way back toward Stockholm (altogether too much driving in this trip). We are spending the night at a horse farm where the owner rents some small cottages. She breeds Icelandic horses, which I always thought were short, but the ones we have seen so far are full size. Tonight we plan to go for pizza to go and bring it to eat in our wonderful terrace.