I’ve imagined this trip so many times I could almost storyboard it.
I know what streets I want to walk, which ruins I want to cry in, what folklore I want to feel humming under my feet.
I’ve packed sunscreen, emotional armor, and a questionable sense of direction.
But truthfully?
I have no idea what’s waiting for me in Visby.
And that’s the part I’m starting to love the most.
🪄 What I think it’ll be like:
Candlelit ruins echoing with medieval music.
Saffron pancakes and sticky fingers and sea air.
Fire dancers, drum circles, too many layers of linen.
A moment where I stand in a grave field and everything goes quiet.
Finding the right rune necklace at the wrong booth.
Meeting someone whose story braids into mine.
🤷♀️ What I can’t predict:
How it’ll feel to walk through Norderport or Frojel for the first time.
If I’ll cry (I probably will).
If I’ll be overwhelmed or perfectly at home.
Whether the ghosts of my foremothers will feel like a hug or a haunting.
If I’ll get stuck in a tourist trap or lost in a side street and love it anyway.
If this will feel like the start of something, or the closing of a circle.
🧬 Because here’s the truth:
My J1c8 maternal line made it through hundreds of generations by facing the unknown.
They crossed water they didn’t understand. They gave birth in the dark. They buried their dead under stones and wrote no names.
They kept going.
And now I get to arrive—carrying their uncertainty, and choosing to love it.
🇸🇪 Swedish Word of the Day: “ovisshet”
Ovisshet (noun) – uncertainty
Used in a sentence:
Det finns skönhet i ovisshet.
(There is beauty in uncertainty.)
Swedish Wanderlust 