In the woods...

A wooden horse's silhouette was dancing this morning to the sound of a waterfall, deep in the forest. It was all silent, but birds sang in the distance, and the sound of roaring waters was amplified by the breeze. The sun sent its first rays through my caravan's window and over my bed around 2:30 am, but it never set in the first place. In the woods here, there's no night in the summer.

The caravan is a white 1973 Swedish-make with a green stripe encircling it. The inside walls were recently painted in white and soothing blue, but the smell of hippie days still scents them. Although it is very small, it has everything basic, a microwave, a TV, a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room and a bedroom.

Small is cozy, cozy is warm, and warm is nice.

One wooden table and two stools are placed symmetrically outside, beside a blue water tank and an old wine barrel, which could be used for storage at a later stage this summer. Candles are placed evenly on the table, an ashtray also, and an Arabic tea pot. Behind the table I have placed two necessary luxuries, a big steel plate where I can burn wood and coal for barbequing, and a bath tub attached to a small old basin.

I have not started using the tub yet, but I have to do it soon, since the only way to get a hot bath here is to pour water in the basin, put wood in a chamber underneath it, then burn the wood to heat the water. After that I can take hot water using a bucket into the bath tub and enjoy a bath in the never-setting sun.

The caravan is parked at the mouth of a forest, a thick and a dark green forest it is, homing elks, deers, colored frogs and unidentifiable flying objects. Close to it is a 150-year-old barn, used long ago for keeping sheep, and for many years later, used as a stable for horses. Nowadays it is a storage space, almost abandoned.

I started cleaning the barn yesterday, and managed to sweep 3 trailer-loads of hay and 2 loads of sand out of the barn and dumped them in a nearby field. The barn's floor is wooden and rotten, and the walls are uneven: they need support at some points, and a raise in others. The floor should be taken apart so a new wooden floor can be constructed instead.

Behind the barn there is a wide field where horses were sleeping this morning, playing and grazing all yesterday afternoon.

In this place, miles away from civilization, people seem very generous and nice. Close by lives an 84-year-old lady, who made me and her son brunch in a basket and brought it to the field, and cooked us soup for supper at her house. Her grand daughter spent all yesterday afternoon cleaning, feeding and riding a big dutch horse.

A couple knocked on my door in the evening and invited me to a summer sauna session. I have seen other people around, walking, fishing, swimming, or working in the fields, but did not manage to talk to them yet. I just kept our conversation at the level of hallå and a hand gesture. I doubt that there are more than 10 people living in the 10 kilometer radius around my new residence.

This is the beginning of a new chapter of my life, and the end of another. I gave up politics for peace, I gave up noise for silence, I gave up cars and five star hotels for a caravan and a bicycle, I gave up extended families for animals, I gave up money for soul, and friends for love.