Ok. What a day. Admittedly, it started slowly with a lazy morning, frustratingly aimless but I finally made the decision to bike to Gamla Uppsala - my second visit there. Gamla Uppsala is a series of burial mounds constructed from 400-600 AD - there are seemingly five mounds but three of them (the most prominent three physically) are the only certain burial mounds. Another is believed to be the place of the Thing, a dark ages type of administrative meeting (of sorts - more of a loose counsel). I had visited this place once before with a group of Germans in my first week here, but the rushed visit and emphasis on social interaction didn't allow time to really explore the place.

So I started with the regular bike down Kyrkogårdsgatan, but took a turn before the overpass and headed, now on bike-paths, toward Gamla Uppsala. The weather was splendid, I'll let pictures speak for themselves.


















Instead of returning home, I took the bike path to the centrum, found myself dumped on some outlying street of Uppsala (Swedish signage = poop) but navigated fairly well into the center of town. Went to go check out Systembolaget in the hopes of picking up some wine for mulled wine, but stupidly forgot my passport. So, headed home but promptly went back out to Cafe Őfre Slotts for tea and (for once) school reading. I did not at all want to move by the time seven o'clock rolled around and the cafe closed. Most of my feelings of being at home have definitely been in that Cafe - it's amazing!
Went home, met Mariella in the kitchen, and - was then seized by an outlandish idea! I've learned that if I've got the instinct or inspiration to do something I had better do it then. So I headed out to jog back to Gamla Uppsala on the same bike path (7:50 pm). The whole project was a two kilometer walk followed by a three kilometer jog, so it wasn't too hefty. But it was the devil cold outside and not at all light. Anyways. Off I went, fortunately received a text from Manon, informed her of my foolish behavior - but then she had the brilliant idea to meet me there when I arrived.
The jog was much, much shorter and easier than anticipated and was lit well until the last half mile or so. I arrived at the mounds after maybe half an hour. And although on a superficial level I'm sorry I haven't got pictures, the place at that time, the whole experience, could never be photographed. I don't mean in a literal way. With the wind and cold, and the night sky, you feel a very immediate sense of being in your own time, but then the size, the weight of the barrows seem to anchor everything in stillness. It's very grounding because you feel filled with something or absorbed into something. It's a place that demands respect and distance but cannot help but be personal as well. So when I arrived on the southern end, I felt at first great joy and then - no less energetic - great quiet. After a paced stroll to the opposite end (jumpstarted by RIDICULOUS frolicking), I met Manon and we sat on the first mound, alleged location of the Thing, talked, watched, etc. I severely depleted her licorice supply because I was freeeezing and hungrig! We took a walk around the first barrow, rounded the back just in time to see someone scramble to the top of it and, on the return trip, could see them kneeling on top with a lit candle. Presumed pagan ritual occurring.
Then came home. Hot shower (well needed!). Then Manon came over for tea and the Daily Show. And so one hell of a great day ended.