Saturday, lördag, was a modest market at Stortorget. The vendors vended berries, jam, tunnbröd (flat-bread, like Vasa), vegetables, sausage, dairy products, etc.... It was fun to see all the local produx. I got to talk to an old cheese-maker about pasteurisation (all her products, including milk, hard-cheese, moldy-cheese, & fill (cultured milk) were made from unpasteurised milk).
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| Präsgatan. There's something about cobblestones... |
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| If carrots are as tasty by any other name, it would have to be morötter. |
This morning, Sunday, is really quiet in Östersund. Allegedly, all the pious Lutherans are in church, but an experience during my pre-provender promenade i morse ("in the matin/early-morning) corroborated my suspicion that this is "bulshit;" a characterisation which I quote verbatim from a young Swede named "Thomas," whom I happened to meet on the sayd walk. Besides his oral dissent, this fellow himself embodied the alternative hypothesis for the Sunday serenity in that, at 6:30 AM, he and his friend "Johan" were still drunk in the streets.
Their company could easily have become tråkigt--tedious--but instead it was pretty fun to talk with them. The best part was that they didn't realise I wasn't Swedish. I told them before too long though, just to end the charade on my terms. The best part was first they thought I was from Umeå. Anyway we walked along the cobblestones by the harbour for a while before the two decided to go home and go to bed.
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