Vrango

I woke up in Gothenburg with no plans. I had heard good things about the city's pub culture and the previous night confirmed them, but the city wasn't renowned for it's sights or daytime entertainment. A South African guy who'd been there awhile (because he lost his passport at the pubs) recommended the islands off Sweden's west coast, which were only a tram and a ferry away, so I headed out.

The port

I took thee ferry to the last stop, a small island called Vrango. I had no map, plan or any clue what this island was about and I was keen (talkin like an Aussie) to find out...as long as nothing resembled Lost.

The first thing that struck me was that there were more ice cream stands (5) than cars (0), although it looked like the stands were closed for the winter. Boats were the primary vehicle. To get around on land, locals walked, rode bikes or rode on the back of a friends bike. These people never needed cars, never wanted them and probably never will. Props to them.

As I walked along the "main" street I was surprised to see so many Swedish flags. These people were pretty self-sufficient, so I guess I expected a more independent attitude. Every house had a blue and gold flag waving proudly-some had two or three.

The water-as it was in the middle of Stockholm-was so clean, a perfect crystal blue, very inviting despite the whipping winds. In Stockholm, when the weather allows, you can jump right in off the docks in the middle of a metropolis of 2 million people. Try doing that in the Schuykill and you'll emerge with an extra leg and missing an ear.

After covering most of the perimeter of the island, I stopped to check the island map posted in the town center. They had little icons for the ferry, the helicopter and the fotbolsplan. I should have known there would be soccer out here. I followed the signs and stumbled upon the local mens soccer club playing a squad from one of the other islands.

It was an interesting lineup-some of the players were balding, some hadn't finished puberty, some were fat and some were tall and skinny. One of them, who I believe is Doug Yeates' Swedish cousin, was wearing fullbody Under Armor under his jersey. They weren't terribly skilled, but were having a blast playing in front of a small crowd of their neighbors and friends. They must have thought I was terribly lost.

Swedish Doug