Alexey Moskvin

Baltic Exchange and beyond

Posts Tagged ‘forest path

Gävle to Nyköping

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Olle’s gift is a pyramid. It was left to him by his ex wife and we tread carefully on relationships. Olle has ‘widowed’ as his relationship status on Facebook. But giving it away, it feels like’s getting rid of something for him, just as I felt giving away the first wooden statue that started the project. The pyramid is made out of stone. I put it next to the sleeping bag, in the bag on the saddle, praying it will be ok. If I left it in one of the inner bags, aided by vibrations, it would’ve poked the hell out of everything in there.

I challenge the satnav and take smaller roads towards the coast, eventually I end up in a resort town of sorts. Getting a pizza for lunch plus a couple of coffee refills.

A disheveled guy approaches me at the car park and tries to make a conversation. I had a Harley, he says, very heavy. Is yours heavy? He reaches out and tries to lift it up by a handle, I grab his hand. You better not, mate, you’ll drop it. I ask to take a photograph of him. He smells of wine.

Puffing, I roll out the bike backwards, two older guys on the bench are watching. I smile and nod and set off, trying to look natural.

There is something I marked on the map and I can’t remember what it is. It’s taking me a bit out of the way and onto a forest path. There is some archeological site or something of that sort and I’m driving slowly, trying not to miss it. And I missed it – I can’t see anything there that’s worth looking at. Nevertheless, I drive all the way until it ends at somebody’s house. The fields are marked with electrocution signs, must be to keep horses in? Or out.

Meeting Marika. We walk around town, moving towards the harbour. The castle on the way. We talk about the town and Marika tells me the story about the key that was thrown into the river. It was the key from a cell in which a king’s locked his two brothers. He starved them to death. That’s what Nyköping is famous for.

It’s a quiet town. Amusing demolition works, the silo with bits sticking out. I am mesmerised.

We are dining in one of the places on the promenade. There was something happening earlier but we were a bit too late for that, we arrive just as everyone leaves. I tell Marika about that music event in Gävle. She is quiet and laughs easily, we don’t talk about anything in particular, we just talk about life.
It’s starting to rain and we are catching a cab back.

Oh, hello Tony. The toilet brush looks like Tony Blair. I’m not sure if that was the maker’s intention.

Marika has to leave early next morning, ‘I’d feel bad to kick you out if it was raining’.

Written by Alexey Moskvin

4 March 2012 at 01:34