Chapter 11 9

【reunion】 The airport security patted me on the shoulder to wake me up, it was 5:21.Sitting up in my sleeping bag, I noticed that the passengers who had to check in at this counter bypassed my camp and queued up. I slept all the way, on the plane, and on the bus from Skavsta Airport to Stockholm Central Station.On the train to Uppsala, I took out the photocopied materials to review, but the journey was not long, and most of the time I looked out the window, wanting to see as much as possible about Sweden. The Uppsala Archives are housed in a tall brick building, a twenty-minute walk from the train station between the university's botanical gardens and the hospital.The young woman at the counter was fluent in English and checked my appointment.

Campbell, yes, I'll take the material to the reading room.Please lock your belongings in the cabinet and take out the things you need to use in the transparent bag. Can I bring a camera? Yes, but please don't use flash. A few minutes later, she put three large textbooks and a pair of cotton gloves on the table in front of me.The three materials are all leather-bound, each with hundreds of pages, and the words on the spine are: Forsamlingsbok︱LEKSANDS Forsamling.Looks like a census done by the parish.The time that the sisters stayed in Sweden should be between the two winters of 1916 and 1917, so 1910 to 1916 and 1917 to 1931 I have borrowed both.The writing was crooked, but still legible, though the content was difficult to read.The names are arranged horizontally and numbered, and there are eighteen vertical columns. The project name is in Swedish and the characters are very small.Some names have been crossed out in entire rows, for unknown reasons.Finally I went to the young librarian for help.

What does the word trop mean? Similar to a farm.These are zoned records, so these guys all live on the same farm, get it?This column is occupation, this column is date of birth, this column is parish of birth, this column is where they lived before After a few minutes of explaining, she was called away by another reader who needed help.I decided to ignore these fields, anyway, I haven't found the name of the person, and it's useless to know the meaning of the fields.I looked at the end of the 1910-1916 book and the beginning of the 1917 book, and found nothing, except that the sisters were both misspelled and dated wrong.There are a few people whose names include Charlotta and Elenora, like Gomberg.Ireneola, Otti.Erica.Charlotte, Anna.Ilenola, but they are all middle names, and they all appear in a whole family of strange names.Yin Mozhen did not appear at all.

I went to the bathroom to wash my face, looked at myself in the mirror, and thought, everything can be saved.Maybe they weren't here when the parish census was made in 1917, or maybe they weren't counted.I went back to the reading room and opened another thick volume, which was Fodelse︱och Dopbok for Leksands forsamling.The content covers the period from 1906 to 1920 and is arranged in chronological order, which is much easier to check than household registration records.Wearing gloves, I followed the names with my fingers. April 20 Anderson.john.April 14th, Tura.Margarita.May 13th Russ.ufo.Charlotte, May 17th.Vivian.May 30 Sifan.August.

I retract my fingers. Charlotte, May 17th.Vivian.Father: Charles.Francis.Grafton, October 9, 1987.Mother: Eleanor.Thames︱Anderson, March 21, 1991. I turned around, shaking my head.But looking back, the things in front of me still haven't changed.I came all the way from nine hundred miles just to see this, to prove myself a fool.I took a picture of the page and stared at it for a while, although there were some dashes and ones in the other fields, but I hadn't bothered to study them. A few minutes later, I stepped out of the archives and headed for the train station in the afternoon sun.It's so stupid that I keep guessing based on guesses, just because I want to believe, because I want to believe that I can find things that others can't.But the answer is on that page.

Maybe it doesn't matter if I'm smart or not, and it doesn't matter if I'm smart, because there's nothing to look for, because Eleanor is Charlotte's mother.Even if she wasn't, there's no evidence left, so it wouldn't take long for an expert, let alone an amateur like me with only seven weeks, to find out.I walked quickly, passing everyone on the sidewalk, past the red gate of Uppsala Castle, and the terraced gardens. I whispered to myself: Even if Yin Mozhen was really her mother, her name would not be on it. I'm crazy to believe that things are any other way.Pitcherd warned me that all the birth and death records were checked, but I ignored it and insisted on coming here.I followed the circumstantial evidence in the letter to these obvious records, checked everything I could, and I was fed up.

Above the bushes peeped the church steeple.Anyway, I am not in a hurry now, so I will walk through the alley and look in from the church porch.It was dark and cool inside the church.I walked slowly across the nave, craned my neck to look at the ribbed vault and the stained glass above.I sat on a bench facing a huge astronomical clock.It was carved wood, lacquered royal blue and burgundy, and had a plaque stating its function, and saying it was made in 1424. This astronomical clock has two dials, the upper dial has twenty-four Roman numerals, representing twenty-four hours, and the sun and moon revolve around those gold-plated numerals.The lower dial is a perpetual calendar, which currently displays the religious festivals from 1923 to 2023 in Latin, with the zodiac signs on the periphery.I sat there looking at the lion, Aries, Pisces and Cancer in gold relief, and St. Lawrence standing forever in the center of the dial.The astronomical clock clicked, counting down the centuries.

At noon, the church organ played "In Dulci Jubilo" (In Dulci Jubilo), and the three oriental sages with servants between the upper and lower dials began to revolve around the Virgin and the Holy Child. In 1916, eighty-seven years ago, she walked into the mist of the Somme with all her secrets, and I would lose a huge inheritance in six weeks.I walked out of the church, across a bridge, and into the visitor center at the train station across the square.The young ticket agent waved to me. Is there a train station in Leksand? What? I wrote Leksander on a piece of paper and showed him.He typed it into the computer.

If you catch the next train, you'll be there at six fifty-three.You have to change trains at Borlänge. The train took me all the way north, through endless pine forests, stopping at smaller and smaller towns.I bought a bag of bread, cheese and fruit at the grocery store near the Borlänge train station, and wolfed down half of it after changing trains, trying not to worry about my accommodation for the night. It was almost seven o'clock when the car arrived at Leksand, and the sun was still shining brightly close to the horizon.There was only one taxi in front of the train station, the driver was sleeping in the driver's seat with the windows open, and the talk show on the radio was playing very loudly.I knock on the door, the driver wakes up, and I show him a map I've photocopied from the British Library.He blinked at the map and spoke wearily in Swedish.I pointed to the circle drawn on the map.

Can you give me a ride there? The driver blinked again, speaking English this time. There is nothing there, it is a very small island. Is there a bridge to go across? He shook his head.Why do you want a bridge?There is nothing there.What are you doing there? vacation.Or at least give me a ride to the lake? The driver shook his head and muttered to himself, returned the seat back to its original position, and started the engine. boarding. We drove for fifteen minutes among thick spruce and birch, and the radio kept playing a rap program.We turned a corner and drove onto a dirt road where the lake glistened through the birches.The muddy lakeshore is where the road ends.

arrive.Want me to leave you here? Yes. It was getting dark, and it was not easy to go back. I know. I paid my fare and leaned my backpack against a tree.The orange sun is still hovering over the treetops on the other side of the lake.I studied it, the water surface was shimmering, and the small island in the distance was densely wrapped in the woods. It would be a long way to swim there, but my swimming skills were very poor. I walked along the lake and found two plastic-covered boats in a thick spruce grove and muddy trails dragged in and out of the lake.Touch the mark on the boat, it's still wet.As it was getting dark, I found a flat ground near the boat as a camp and laid out my sleeping bag.If someone comes to pick up the boat, I can see it, and I can ask them to take me to the island.I have no tent, but there are no clouds in the sky either.I read "Daily Life in the Trench" in the purple twilight until it was too dark to see. The next morning I walked along the lake, trying to figure out how to get to the island.The trees grew so densely that I had to walk into the lake several times to get around them.I walked along the lake like this, and finally made a full circle around it. Back at camp, in the middle of the day, I went to the boats and lifted the plastic sheeting. One was an aluminum fishing boat with an external engine, and the other was an eight-foot white boat.I turned the dinghy over. The hull is made of lightweight plastic, so it didn't take much effort to turn it over.Inside the boat were two aluminum oars tied together with nylon cords.I took my oars and looked at the birch trees across the lake. no solution anymore. I grabbed the bow and hauled the boat out into the lake, and the boat pulled smoothly on the muddy trail.When I got to the lake, I took off my shoes and threw them into the boat, rolled up my trousers, looked around, and suddenly felt that someone was watching me, that there was an audience in the woods.Although I don't know why someone wants to look at me, and I don't know why that person wants to look at me, but I am so anxious, and I can't get rid of this feeling.I went to the stern, pushed the boat into the lake, and jumped in.The boat rocked merrily as I put the oars in the oarlocks.I pulled hard and the boat slid forward and out.Look at the woods again, no one. I paddled to the north of the island, and it was such a strenuous effort that my arms got tired within ten minutes.I'll take a break before continuing.The trees and sky are reflected in the mirror-like lake.There is a small wooden pier at the northern end of the island, and I paddle along the shore, trying to avoid the wanton growth of branches on the shore. Finally rowed to the pier.The pier is very rough, and a boat has already been parked before me, which is an aluminum boat like this one.I tied up the boat and set out on a path among thick birches and spruces, up a steep slope.On the path, I heard talking and laughing ahead.Near the top of the hill was a treeless slope, and there were two wooden houses painted dark red with white window frames.The two wooden houses were separated by lush grass, and the smaller one was on a higher position and looked much older.In the open space next to the larger one, a group of young people sat around a table, talking and laughing.They didn't see me, I walked forward slowly. The group is drinking beer from cans, and the paper plates on the table are empty.The young man at the head saw me, his eyes widened, and he stood up.The others were still talking, but when they saw him get up, they all turned to look at me.A girl in a funny paper cone hat stood up and said something in Swedish to me. I shake my head.Sorry, I only speak English.I'm looking for a house that was previously owned by a relative of mine named Soames|Anderson. The Swedes kept looking at me without taking their eyes off me, and I looked up at the orange sun above the trees, feeling a little dizzy.I said that I came to Sweden to trace the family history. My relatives used to have two houses here, one was a summer house and the other was a barn.My grandmother was born in that summer house in 1917, when the barn was used as a studio. The girl shook her head. There is no barn here, and the other house is very old, but our family doesn't use it. Do you know when they bought this place? She shrugged and said: A long time ago, the 50s, right? The girl looked at me carefully. She had long straight hair and wore round plastic glasses. I brought friends here for a party She didn't finish her sentence, and everyone else was still looking at me. The young man said something to her in Swedish, and she seemed to be dismissive, and responded sharply.They talked for a while, and then the girl turned to me and said: did you eat?There's food in the house, why don't you play with us? She forgot to smile and made up for it after a while. I sit down and the party goes on.A young man with denim pants cut off to wear as shorts introduced himself as Christian, and they were here for a traditional late-summer crayfish party.He politely asked me a few questions about my visit to Sweden, then went into the house to look for food, brought out a plastic pot of potato salad, put a can of cold beer in front of me, and patted me on the shoulder. Here's for your lunch, we'll be starting dinner soon anyway. The girl with glasses is called Korin.There were three others, two women and one man, all young, and I was too inattentive to remember their names.They're all drinking, and there's a cardboard box next to the table full of empty beer cans.I wanted to see that old house, but I didn't get a positive answer after asking twice. It's a mess inside, Korin said: and I don't know where the key is, so I have to call my uncle. is there something in it? Colleen shrugged.Lots of trash, tools and furniture.Such an old house should be kept instead of demolished, but it is not practical to use it.My uncle talked about cleaning up and redecorating the house, but it was all talk and no practice. Christian puts another can of beer in front of me. He said: Another can.How did you get here? Take the train from Uppsala. But how did you get to this small island? I slept by the lake last night, and in the morning I spotted a boat and rowed over. Everyone laughed, thinking I was joking. Corinne said: We should cook.Tristan, do you want to stay for dinner? Christian grinned.He had only just rowed over. In the twilight, we went into the newer house, opened bag after bag, and dumped frozen crayfish into a pot of boiling water.Corin spread tablecloths on the tables outside, and I helped another girl hang paper lanterns from the trees.After everyone was seated, Corinne led a toast in Swedish before we drank aquavit, a golden Swedish liquor with a strong caraway flavor.Each gnawed on a dozen or so crayfish, loudly sucking juice from their red shells.I only eat salad and potatoes. Corin asked: Don't you like crayfish? I am vegetarian. Then another can of beer.Christian said: This is dinner. We drank beer, vodka, and water of life.These Swedes insist on looking each other in the eye every time they toast.At first they spoke English, asking me about San Francisco and my relatives in Sweden, but over dinner, everyone spoke Swedish more and more.Corinne sat across from me and met my eyes several times, but didn't speak to me. After dinner we walked down to the lake, where there was a fire pit, and Christian and I lit newspapers under the cone.We started drinking the water of life seriously, because all the other wines were gone.A man staggered into the forest and did not return for a long time, and the men sent to look for him did not return.I threw a few more pieces of wood into the fire, and the fire got hotter and hotter, and everyone had to step back a little.I suddenly realized that the time was past midnight, that is to say, today is August 28th. Today is my birthday, and I said: I am twenty-three years old. The Swedes cheered and congratulated, Christian gave me a bear hug, and Corinne gently blamed me for not saying it sooner.They sang happy birthday to me in Swedish and drank the water of life.I continued to add to the fire, watching the smoke swirl up into the sky, and the stars became clear and blurred to my eyes.I finally came here, and I have achieved something.I broke a twig in half and threw it into the fire.Corinne elbowed me. How does it feel to spend your birthday with a bunch of strangers? Not bad, it's beautiful here. She nodded.Sorry, I was weird this morning.When I saw you, I thought I saw a ghost Me too, when I heard your voices when I got off the boat, I thought there was a ghost, but I didn't expect there were people here. Otherwise what do you think? I shook my head and said: Nothing.I thought to myself, come here, see the house is gone, I can forget She gasped.house.I've forgotten it all. Colin grabbed her water of life, led me up the hill, took out the phone in her pocket, dialed a number, put it to her ear, and winked at me. my uncle. Talking on the phone in Swedish, she led me into the kitchen of my new house, squatted down and opened a lower drawer to find a bunch of keys.After she finished talking on the phone, she put the phone back in her pocket. He hasn't slept yet, and has been watching TV all night.He said the old owner had left boxes of stuff.bring it on I followed her down the slope between the two houses, and the stars above the trees were so bright.The dark red pine siding of the old house had been worn down by centuries of harsh winters and western sun.Colin took the key and twisted it in the lock, and pushed open the small wooden door. Happy birthday. The room was in disarray.In the darkness there was a huge pile of boxes and furniture piled up to the ceiling.We looked around for light switches, but there was a big table full of boxes blocking the wall.I went to get the headlamp in my bag, and when I came back Corinne had cleared a path and found the switch, but it didn't work. Maybe the bulb is bad, or the fuse is blown. I turn on my headlights and shine it on the piles of plastic boxes and chairs, behind them a chainsaw and a pile of paddles and planks leaning against the wall. Colleen laughed.Have you ever seen so much trash? Of course, my parents' garage looks like this. Let's move down a storage box and open it up to have a look.Inside were unopened vacuum cleaner filters, cans of wood paint, boxes of white packing tape, and a thick catalog of SKF ball bearings.There was a knock on the door behind us, and Christian stood by it, and he said something in Swedish to Corinne, and she turned to me and said: We're going to swim in the dark, will you come? Maybe later.Can I stay here and take another look. Colleen shrugged.Okay, but if you find anything, please let me know.Also, don't make a mess Christian interrupted: Come for a birthday swim. Go down in a moment. They left without closing the door.I put a headlamp on the whole house and there are cracks everywhere, the ceiling and walls are dark wood, the beams are low, and there is some kind of decorative fabric on the opposite wall, but it's all dusty, can't see out of tricks.I took another storage box off the table and looked at it.Car repair manuals from the 1970s, yellowed composition books filled with Swedish, and photo magazines with brittle paper.I moved the boxes behind me one by one and piled them up, cutting a path to the stairs.