The trees in the thick forest were so close to the train some branches hit its sides. We were going slowly, not more than thirty kilometers an hour. “Imagine going in 70,” my dad said. “That’s what they did when we went to school, it was a bumpy shaking ride I tell you.”
Everyone was dressed up, the women had their finest jewelry and the excitement was as high as on the annual market day. And sure it was something to celebrate; the railway that used to connect our small town with the surrounding villages was turning a hundred years old. The old trains were rolling on the railway all the way to Åseda, thirty kilometers away. It’s the first time since they closed the railway a very long time ago. The conductors and the drivers were all dressed up in the traditional clothes of people who work on trains; dark blue suits, small hats and the tickets were old fashioned blanco tickets.
I went on the train with my father and his girlfriend. Outside the small station in the middle of the idyllic Swedish countryside with red houses, green grass and a pine and birch forest we bought a cone with traditional caramels. The farmers were all whispering excitedly about their old memories of the trains going back and forth between their home and school.
It was a real country side day. One of those days that are just perfect from start to end. The whole morning I was playing board games with my youngest brother, then there was the train ride followed by me hitch-hiking to Malmö for my friends moving-in party and a long night of laughing, dancing and tricking. As I woke up today I had a late breakfast with a good friend, and then another friend and I started hitch-hiking to Öland. Though we only made it to the next town. We are sleeping here tonight and tomorrow morning we’ll be on the road again.