For my last day, Gothenburg has given me hot and sunny. It's beautiful like this - later today there will be people everywhere trying to catch some sun. The cafés will all be full and so will the parks. The movers came, the movers went. There are few things so depressing as an empty flat when you're locking it up for the last time. It's been a hard year - so many trials, so many challenges, so many adjustments, all of them played out somehow within those white walls and beautiful high ceilings. The flat was a character in its own right in our story this year. Perfectly situated "downtown", overlooking Vasagatan which in itself was a constant entertainment watching people kommer och går, I loved its big windows, balconies, and back stairs.
No matter what, the one thing I could consistently count on to be perfect was The League of Extraordinary Women. These are the expat ladies, all transplants to Göteborg from all over the world. These are the women who've been there, suffered through that, made it to the other side and knew I would too. These were the ladies who knew who to call to fix it, how long it would take, whether it was worth the bother. They understood every rough day because they'd been there, but rather than wallowing with me or trying to pollyanna me out of it, they supported with a story, or a smile, or just their presence. I admired their strength, their confidence, and their neverending belief that there was always room for one more.
Saying goodbye to the League was hard, as was saying goodbye to Peter, our choir director. I chickened out of telling the Askimkyrkakör how special they were to me, how those Wednesday nights were the highlight of my week because no matter what else was going on, I knew that for 2hrs I would be surrounded by beautiful people and beautiful music and all my troubles would fade away. I don't think any of them knew just how much this token Canadian treasured the time she spent with them and the harmonies we made.
When the police investigator came looking for witnesses after the shooting, he asked if I had seen anyone suspicious in the neighbourhood, and I said no. Truthfully, I couldn't even tell him who was a regular in our building. We never met the doctors across the landing, though we encountered many of their patients and the only contact we ever had with the other tenants on the 1st floor was when they opened their window to yell at us for parking where they didn't want us to park. No, the people I knew in my neighbourhood were an odd bunch. I can tell you that screaming lady hasn't been around for a while, the old woman who yells at you when you walk past. I hope she's ok. The factum man is off crutches, but he's lost a lot of weight and I'm afraid it's because he's not well, rather than as part of a health regimen. We have new beggars this Spring. These folks are much less willing to take no for an answer. Dancing Accordion Man is back. I guess he wintered over somewhere else. He moves around - last week he was near Kungsgatan, but on a sunny day like today, he'll probably be under the big tree beside the bridge over the canal near Saluhallen, switching his tune to a tango to try and entice every pretty woman that walks past.
I am sad to be leaving my friends. I am fearful of what lies ahead. But as for today, like Dancing Accordion Man, chin up, get your dancing shoes on & go get a great day.
