It’s been two weeks since I left Gotland, but Visby hasn’t left me. Medieval Week still flickers in my mind—the sound of music drifting through cobbled streets, the smoky scent of tar on ship masts, the glow of candlelight in medieval taverns.
And then there’s the ghost.
If you read my last post, you know what I mean. The glowing figure I saw by my bed at the Clarion Wisby is still etched in my memory. Was it a trick of the light? My imagination after too much mead? Or maybe, just maybe, a spöke with a story of its own.
That’s what I love about Visby: history never really stays in the past. It lingers—in ruins, in shadows, in whispers carried on the sea breeze. Once you’ve felt that, you start noticing it everywhere.
Back home, I’ve thrown myself into a different kind of journey: learning Swedish through SFI (Svenska för invandrare). Some days it feels like battling a dragon armed only with flashcards—but I’m starting to see the beauty in the struggle. Each new word feels like a key to unlock the culture around me. And funny enough, the classroom has its own ghosts too—the ghost of who I was before I moved here, learning to live between two languages, two worlds.
Visby gave me my first taste of how the past breathes into the present. Now, with autumn approaching, I’m following that thread into the haunted corners of Sweden: ruined churches, forgotten castles, legends that refuse to die.
Visby gave me stories. Now it’s time to chase the rest.
Swedish Word of the Day: minne (memory). Because some memories don’t fade—they haunt you, in the best way.
Swedish Wanderlust 