Nilas felt Casper’s gaze on him. He was thinking, trying to come up with an appropriate response. Finally, Nilas shrugged and offered, “Okay. I guess having a look won’t harm. But I have to tell you, I have no idea what the job market looks like for engineers. I mean, if it’s as dead as the shipyards, I’m toast. I might have to look at re-training or work the assembly line at Volvo.” Nilas laughed at his words, and Casper looked relieved that Nilas wasn’t so stuck on Stockholm as he’d feared after all.
***
Two weeks later, on a Saturday morning, they were on a plane from Arlanda to Landvetter Airport. The journey only lasted one hour, compared to the five-plus hours the train ride would’ve taken. They’d decided to use that time for sightseeing together. They’d made reservations in a nice hotel on Gothenburg’s largest street downtown, aptly named “Avenyn”—the avenue—and reached their room before ten a.m.
The hotel had a couple of advantages: besides being centrally located, it would also connect them directly to the airport by bus, and it was only a five-minute walk from the university where Casper would have his interviews the coming week.
The avenue was impressive. Over a mile long, it began at a large square at the foot of a hill, with the city’s symphony hall, the city theater, and arts museum. Smack in the middle of the large square was one of Gothenburg’s famous sights: the Carl Milles statue of the sea god Poseidon, standing tall inside a fountain. The avenue stretched all the way down to Göta river, past the old town with its impressive moats. Streetcars traveled on part of the avenue, and it was busy with people strolling and window shopping. The sun was shining, and for a spring day in May, it was comfortably warm.
“So, what would you like to do first?” Casper asked.
Nilas shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we could just walk a bit? Down to the old town—see how it compares to Stockholm? At some point, I’d like to go to their famous city park, Slottsskogen, just to see if it’s really as big as I’ve read, and, of course, head out to the coast.”
“Your wish is my command, beäjvviebájttuo!” Casper chuckled. They began walking down the avenue, and soon crossed a small bridge into the old town of Gothenburg.
“Odd,” Nilas remarked. “There’s really not that much left of the old city here. Not like Stockholm.”
“I know. I remember reading an article that much was torn down in the fifties and sixties, in an attempt to modernize the inner parts of town. The old houses were really not up to spec with regards to sanitation, and rather than spending a lot of money on renovations, they just tore them down. You see the same thing in Stockholm, in Norrmalm or Södermalm for instance.”
Nilas shrugged again. “I guess. I’ve never thought of it much. It’s a shame, though. Just imagine, if the old city walls were still here, and all the old wooden buildings. This would be so beautiful. Now, it’s just a bunch of ugly modern buildings from the sixties and seventies. And shops, everywhere.” So far, he wasn’t impressed with the town.
“Don’t give up yet. We’re not really in the center. I hear the old stock exchange is nice, and the crown building, where King Karl X Gustav held the Reichstag before he died, is said to be very impressive, not to mention the old canal into the city.”
A few minutes later, they had reached Gustav Adolf Square, Gothenburg’s heart, so to speak, where a statue of the famous protestant king symbolically marked the spot where he commanded Gothenburg to be built back in 1632. It hadn’t been the first attempt by the Swedes to build a city on the West Coast, but each previous attempt had been thwarted by the Danes, who ruled the land north and south of the river reaching the West Coast at this spot. Finally, using Scottish, Dutch, and German engineers, Gustav Adolf built a reinforced city with moats, walls, and several forts surrounding it, which against all odds, stood up to any further Danish attempts of conquest and destruction, and eventually became the country’s second largest city, its industrial and transportation hub, and—for a short while, had almost become the capital of a country encompassing all of the Nordic countries.
Casper and Nilas walked around the neighborhood, and were impressed, not least by the city’s oldest building and the history it told of a once not-so-peaceful part of the world. Today, just a few hundred yards away, down by the river, they could easily take a ferry over to Jutland and Denmark, without ever having to show a passport or ID. Much had changed in the Nordic countries in the past centuries, but Gothenburg still stood halfway between Copenhagen and Oslo, at the mouth of the Göta river, Sweden’s largest, with an impressive harbor where most of the goods to Scandinavia were unloaded and where most of the country’s exports departed from.
They took a sightseeing tour on one of the Paddan boats: a specially built open barge, designed to be able to pass under the many low bridges crossing the moats in multiple places. They took the street car to Linné Square, from where they walked through Slottsskogen, the city’s largest park, which also included a small zoo, until finally taking a street car out to Saltholmen, where the city meets the ocean.
By that time, it was already late afternoon, and they decided to come back another day and take the local ferry out to the archipelago. They called a taxi and returned to their hotel, where their room was ready for check-in. They were pretty tired after a long day of sightseeing and went straight to bed after dinner. For Sunday, they had intended to explore some of the various neighborhoods that might be of interest to them, should they decide to move to Gothenburg.
“You know what, beäjvviebájttuo, I think we should add Änggården to our list. Did you see how beautiful that entire neighborhood is? So close to Slottsskogen and on the doorstep of the Botanical Garden. I know you’d be right at home there, and by bus, I’d be at the university in less than twenty minutes.”
Nilas yawned, tired from the day’s walking, but he nodded. “You’re right. I thought those houses were pretty spectacular. The only drawback is the freeway next door, but unless we go there to have a look, we’ll never know how bad the noise pollution is. I’m really looking forward to seeing the Botanical Garden, too. I hear it’s incredible. Quite a few specimens were supposedly collected by Linné himself.”
“Well, it looks like we have a plan, then. We’ll walk from here—” Casper pointed on the city map to their hotel’s location “—through Vasastan to Haga, the old wooden quarters, which I hear are really pretty, and from Järntorget we can take the street car to the Botanical Garden, or walk if you’re up to it.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. I don’t mind walking, if the weather’s okay. By the way, when is your first interview on Monday?”
“Ten in the morning. Why do you ask?”
“No reason in particular. I was just wondering what to do with the day. I think I might head out to the archipelago, see some of the islands. I hear they’re very different from the ones we have back home.”
“I wish I could join you, but I’ll be in meetings all day. After my meeting with the prefect and his people, I’m to meet with union representatives and later on with the deacon. Tuesday, I have a meeting with the student representatives, although that won’t take as much time. I was hoping we could go to the sea in the afternoon?”
“Anything particular in mind?”
“Have you heard of Marstrand?” Casper asked, and Nilas shook his head. “It’s a city, albeit a very small one, on an island, just off the coast about twenty miles north of Gothenburg. There’s a fortress on the island, and it’s pretty impressive. We used to go there once every summer when I was a kid, kind of a day trip on a sunny Sunday. It’s been at least fifteen years since my last visit. I’d just like to share that place with you, if you’re interested?
Nilas smiled. “Of course! Anything to learn more about my man piques my interest. Since I’ve still not been able to meet your family, nor visit your hometown, whatever morsel of information I get about your past is gladly accepted.” There was a pinch of bitterness in Nilas’s voice. They’d visited Nilas’s parents at least twice ev
ery year after their first visit in 1984, in the summer and for the Holidays, sometimes more often, particularly if there was urgent need for help with his kin’s reindeer herd, but never once had he met Casper’s family. They were barely on speaking terms, and after they’d found out that Casper’s “roommate” was, in fact, his lover, they’d never spoken to Nilas again. These days, whenever they called, which was very rare, they merely asked to speak to Casper.
It was what it was, but it still hurt Nilas not to know more about Casper’s youth and upbringing, and Casper was well aware of that.
“I wish things were different, trust me, but I don’t think they’re ever going to change their minds. Mom and Dad are as conservative as they come, and they’re just afraid of losing face in town if people knew they had a gay son. Not to mention in church…”
“I know.” Nilas let his head drop in response. “Let’s not talk about it. Instead, let me ask you, how is your research going? Do you think they’ll accept that as a basis for your professorship? I won’t presume to understand half of it, but you’ve been working on that stuff for years now.
“I wish I knew. I think so. I would even hope so, given that I’m following the Gothenburg methods and all that, but in all honesty, I think this is much less about my publications and research than if I click with the other professors, the prefect, and deacon. If they think I’ll make a valuable and personable addition to their research and teaching team, they’ll support my application. If not, then even the best research won’t help. Not to mention that I’ll have to woo the union and student reps. Universities are more about politics than merits today, and I highly doubt Gothenburg is different from Stockholm, or any other university, for that matter. But I’m optimistic. The preliminary discussions have all been very positive.”
“Good. I think I’ll have a look at the local job market, too. Provided your meeting on Monday works out.” Nilas smiled and kissed Casper on the cheek.
“Really? Have you changed your mind? I thought you hated Gothenburg.” Casper was getting excited.
“Hate? No, I don’t think I’d go that far. It’s just that I’ve always felt at home in Stockholm—protected, I guess. I mean, this city doesn’t exactly have a good reputation when it comes to gay rights, what with all the skinheads and hate crimes. Being out and open here just isn’t as easy as it is in Stockholm.”
“I know, beäjvviebájttuo, but remember, we’re a couple. You’re not single, you’re not out there dating. Our lives are pretty mundane, boring even, and most of the crimes against gays occur at cruising sites or outside the gay clubs. We haven’t been to either of those in years.”
Casper knew full well, that a wrong turn or simply two men walking down the street was enough for some people to lose their shit. Nilas shot him a look saying as much.
“Okay, here’s the deal. Why don’t you go out and look at the city on your own Monday and Tuesday, and see for yourself how safe you feel? Like I said the other week, if you don’t want to move, we’ll stay put, or I’ll see if I can find a position elsewhere. It’s not like linguistics research is limited to Gothenburg.”
“I’m tired. All the walking today has left me exhausted…” Nilas yawned again and kissed Casper, who tried to joke through their touching lips.
“What? No hotel sex? And I bought a brand new pack of condoms at the airport this morning…” Casper instantly felt a change in the kiss and how the flame of lust had awoken in Nilas. “Well, well, seems we’re not as tired after all…”
* * * * *
Discovering Gothenburg
The two lovers spent the next day walking through the central parts of Gothenburg. They’d grabbed a copy of the local Sunday newspaper to check the real estate section, to see if there were any available apartments to rent, or condos or houses for sale in the neighborhoods they visited. They quickly decided that Vasastan, as centrally located and fancy as it was, was way too expensive for them. There were no listings in Haga, so they kind of gave up on that, too. Linnégatan, the street leading from Haga to the park and the Botanical Garden, was also very expensive, and while there were many brand new condos available, they just didn’t like that street. Something just didn’t click with them.
Their visit to the city park and the glimpse they’d caught of the neighborhood called Änggården had somehow enthralled them, captured their imagination. It felt to Casper as if they had both been attracted to that particular little neighborhood, which he couldn’t explain. The houses were circa 1900. Constructed on a stone basement, with a cellar, most were two stories tall, with red-tile roofs. Some were stand-alone villas; others were built in rows of town houses. There were a lot of trees in the neighborhood, and it was absolutely peaceful and quiet, despite the nearby freeway.
Finally, they stood in front of a two-story villa at the far end of one of the little streets. The house was in bad shape. It was painted in a very dark brown, almost like dark chocolate, the yard was overgrowing, the lawn hadn’t been mowed in weeks, the flowerbeds were in a disarray, and on the white window frames the paint was flaking. It still looked inhabited, though.
“Wow!” Nilas said. “Can you imagine living here? I can almost see kids running through this yard.”
Casper laughed. “Well, certainly not ours, beäjvviebájttuo, that’s for sure. Your sister’s, maybe, if she ever came to visit. You like it?”
“Like it?” Nilas pretended to be offended. “Look at this place. It’s absolutely beautiful. The structure seems intact, and with a bit of love and a good paint job, this house will look like new. I wonder what it looks like on the inside.”
“Does it matter? It’s not for sale.”
“Well, let’s knock on the door. What have we got to lose?”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course I am. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? The owners tell us it’s not for sale. It’s not like they’re going to hurt us…”
“Hey, you were the one talking about hate crimes last night, not me, but all right. If you want to go and have a look, let’s do it.”
They walked up to the gate, which was shaded by a tall red maple tree, and entered the property, walking the few steps up to the main door. Nilas knocked. Then they waited. There was no telling if anyone was in the house, but since they’d already come this far, they might as well wait. After a minute, they heard a shuffle inside the house and steps approach the main door.
An older gentleman opened the door. He was tall, slightly hunchbacked, with a mop of white unruly hair. He had kind eyes and a thin smile as he asked the boys what he could help them with.
“We’re sorry to disturb you, sir. My boyfriend and I are from Stockholm,” Nilas began, “and we’re currently looking into relocating to Gothenburg. We are looking at different neighborhoods, and, well, we stumbled across your house and just had to ask if it was for sale, by any chance? It’s such a beautiful structure and it has so much character. I just couldn’t walk by and not ask. I hope you accept my apologies if the question is a bit unorthodox.” Nilas blushed and tried his best to smile at the old man who seemed a bit perplexed by the question.
“Well, well. Now, that’s a first. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me this before. Why don’t you come on in? I’ll show you around.” He gestured Nilas and Casper to come into the house.
Casper gave Nilas a questioning look, but Nilas had already put his first foot forward and was in motion to enter the house. Casper quickly followed suit.
“If you go straight down the hallway and turn right at the end, that’s where the kitchen is. I’ll make us some coffee if you like.” The old man followed them into the house, watching as they carefully removed their shoes in the hallway before proceeding to the kitchen. The house was dark, and there were a lot of wooden surfaces: hardwood floors, wooden paneling, complemented by really old-looking wallpapers in subtle off-white colors. The kitchen looked very simple: a stove that appeared to be from the fifties, a simple wooden table, and a v
ery simple wooden floor. The two windows were framed by straightforward white curtains with a delicate flower motif.
“Please, gentlemen, have a seat. Can I offer you a cup of coffee? I’ve just set on a new pot.” He looked at Nilas and Casper, the latter of whom responded.
“Thank you, sir. I’d love to have a cup.”
Nilas merely nodded. He still wasn’t a big fan of coffee, but he didn’t wish to impose on this kind stranger with his preference for drinking tea. A couple of minutes later, the old man had set the fragile porcelain cups on their matching saucers, with silver spoons, a little jug of milk, and a small jar of sugar.
“Go ahead. I usually drink my coffee black, but I’m not sure how you like it. Please help yourselves.” He gestured to the milk and sugar. Casper quickly helped himself to some milk and a spoonful of sugar. Nilas politely declined.
“Now, tell me,” the old man looked knowingly at Nilas, “you can’t fool me. You’re not originally from Stockholm? Your dialect gives you away. If I’d have to venture a guess, I’d say from somewhere far north? Gällivare or Kiruna maybe?”
Nilas had to chuckle. “No, you’re right. I wasn’t born in Stockholm. My family is Sami, from Ammarnäs in Sorsele commune. But I’ve lived in Stockholm for a decade now. First to study and then to work.”
“I see.” The old man seemed pensive. “I haven’t been that far north in a great many years. I did my military service up in Boden, way back in the 1920s, after the first war. I think the last time I was up there was in the late seventies. And what about you?” He turned to Casper. “Where do you come from?”
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