Euro-Camping in Sweden

Lauren and I camped several days during our trip down the east coast on our bicycles.  On  the first few nights we found small private camp sites in idyllic campgrounds on the outskirts of towns, making it easy to get to food and drink after setting up camp.

Later down the road,  we were introduced to a phenomenon which may be quite common everywhere but the U.S.:  the mega-campground.  These places have undeniable assets: multiple outbuildings with hot and functioning showers, full kitchens for hostel-type meal preparation, rooms with tables and chairs and often some books, electricity, and heat.  So, if you wish, you can easily get out of the smelly confines of your tent and far away from your tentmate's annoying habit of putting on headphones and singing along, off key and irritatingly loudly, to "Sail Away" by David Gray.

These camping suburbs were a source of bemusement and incredulity to Lauren and me.  In hindsight, and with experience, I see their appeal and charm: European families are on vacation, out of their homes and into second homes, their kids have the run of the place and its bike paths, jungle gyms, etc. It is an economical and simple "home away from home".

But their sheer vastness  did intially shock. A picture is worth a thousand words; Lauren and I shot this in a campground that could hold 2500 people.

We had fun at these places.  Some of them have mini-golf, pools and water slides, none of which we used, but one place featured a band playing swing music on a rickety stage in front of a wooden dance floor. We we were just about to give it a go when a couple finished their own dance and passed us on their way off the dance floor. The woman immediately approached Lauren and asked if she could braid her hair. Before I could even register the appropriateness of such a request, Lauren gamely and without hesitation said "sure". Birgitta confessed that she had been admiring Lauren's hair earlier while we had been eating at the same restaurant, and that she loved to braid beautiful hair. So, while she braided, I got to know Jonas, we all became friendly, and after the braiding session they brought us back to their campsite for a beer.  They had come on a Honda GoldWing Motorcycle and towed a small trailer to carry their tent and sleeping supplies. They had almost gotten a divorce the previous evening when Jonas confessed he had forgotten the instructions for putting up the tent, which was evidently manufactured by Ikea.  You can see his bumper sticker for the wagon;  it seemed  horribly un-PC until we realized the irony:  how can the thing be a "pussy wagon" when it's barely bigger than a Fischer-Price toy?  Then it seemed pretty damn funny.

The Dance Floor

The Braiding

Ta Da!

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