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Blueberry Soup We kept the grill from the barbecue. Sharon placed it on top of the stove's windscreen and pronounced it toasted bread excellently. She had been making toast in our frying pan, which didn't do much for either the bread or the pan, mostly causing the Teflon to peel off. All the Teflon she had ingested should help to keep her innards slippery. In Göteborg we found Arran and Rebecca waiting outside Central Information; their neon orange and green framed bicycles were easy to spot, even without their touring gear. I was surprised to learn they could still ride their bikes without packs; mine was as skittish as a new born colt whenever I tried that. Whoa! Arran and I bought shrimp salad and baguettes from a deli. In the park we munched while watching birds float on the canal. Göteborg had a large university population of young adults on bicycles. A group of burly guys sat nearby drinking beer. We hadn't seen one cop.Rebecca went to the university where Yvonne worked. She wanted to send e-mail back to the university in New Zealand through Internet. Rebecca came back to the park without getting through; Yvonne had already left. We followed the busy and well-maintained cycle path out of town, twenty-seven kilometers to Sarö. After fixing a flat on Arran's Fat Boy tire, we arrived at Yvonne's at seven-thirty. We found Yvonne sitting on her steps. Arran had taken the only house key with him. We were in time to help with supper, since Yvonne couldn't start before we returned. We sampled soup created from rose hips. Yvonne divulged tourists didn't usually like it. She said Swedes also made blueberry soup, and drank it out on the cross-country ski trails. Yvonne made a stir-fry with reindeer meat while Arran and Rebecca concocted apple crisp with custard for dessert. Yvonne mixed the reindeer into a lavish sauce that we poured over rice. Savory with Swedish beer. Pass more Rudolph please. |
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