Some events in David's life

Even though it’s been more than a year since our group split up, we still keep in touch. Yesterday it was time for another evening together. This time, the focus was more on our new experiences and adventures, whereas before it used to be anecdotes from our 15–30 years of shared history.

I had the opportunity to take part in a youth camp organized by the orienteering clubs around Zlín. My intention was to gather inspiration, but my conclusion was that this is something we could never copy.

Nine days with the basic idea of orienteering training in the mornings and fun activities in the afternoons and evenings. Mobile coverage was practically non-existent, so here the phone was not the child’s best friend.

The days started with sweet music from the speakers that gradually grew louder until you realized it was time to get up and have breakfast. The youths were divided into teams, and each day one team was responsible for the dishes. When it was time to gather for training, “The Final Countdown” blasted from the speakers, and when the music stopped, everyone was expected to be there.

After training, the ladies in the kitchen served lunch, always starting with soup. The youths, who at every spare moment played badminton, shot air rifles, paddled, swam, etc., were always starving and came rushing when food was served. The amounts piled onto their plates often looked absurd compared to their thin bodies.

Afternoons always offered a leader-led activity of complex design. For example, a two-hour game was organized where the teams acted as pizzerias with home delivery. The challenge was to keep track of what customers wanted right now, what they would want later, whether ingredients should be stolen from the fortress defended by angry twenty-year-olds with plastic swords, or bought in the store. The customers were also vague with their addresses, making deliveries tricky, and if the pizza was late, payment was reduced or withheld entirely.

I personally felt wonderful at this camp. I was a mix of leader and tourist, getting to enjoy fun orienteering in beautiful sandstone terrain.

At last, I got to experience what I had hoped for over many years. Our youth team in FK Göingarna won the world’s largest youth relay in orienteering, Ungdomens Tiomila. We’ve been close before, but being close is not the same as winning. And we were treated to an exciting journey to get there. Several times the team took the lead, only to lose it again. It was a battle all the way, and the youth jumped with joy when our runner came first over the final hill. After five hours of running, the winning margin was twelve seconds!

Elena’s and my role in this was to handle all the practical arrangements for transport, accommodation, food, and service during the competition. Almost exactly 24 hours of work with only 2–3 hours of sleep, as it starts on Friday afternoon with the relay for under-14s, and then at 2:45 AM the big relay for youths up to 20 years begins.

It’s such a relief to get paid for not working (as described in post 250218). That gives me time to work on other things. I had planned to use AI to build a mobile game where, very simply put, you walk to certain locations and collect points. But AI isn’t quite that advanced yet. It became unmanageable. Working with AI is like working with a developer with dementia who loves to improvise wildly.

So I’ve shifted to slightly simpler projects, and since I’m involved in orienteering, there are many ideas. First, I built a small tool that calculates times for the courses at our winter trainings. Right now, I’m creating a tool that calculates points for runners’ performances that can be used to award the club’s challenge trophy.

To do this, I’m using an AI that builds a website to handle everything. The idea is that I describe how it should work in text, and the AI generates the necessary code. But it’s not as easy as it sounds — probably because I insist on having such advanced ideas. So I’m using another AI to check what the first AI is doing and to write instructions for it. Feels like a feedback loop, but it’s moving forward, albeit with many missteps. Sure, AI helps with coding, but you need to have a decent understanding of how programming works. I constantly have to question what it’s doing, guide it back on track, etc. Basically, a developer with dementia.

While drones and missiles flew over Ukraine, we got into the car at 2 AM and began our journey home. On this trip, we’ve focused on Elena’s parents and our own vacation. But the war is a constant presence, and in every longer conversation Elena has had with a Ukrainian, the topic has come up. It’s a people who just want to live in peace and be like other countries in democratic Europe. That transformation required persistence, motivation, and patience for the countries formerly behind the Iron Curtain. Ukraine also has a war to fight. A war that will determine whether it becomes like Belarus or the Czech Republic.

Our journey home was 1,800 km through Slovakia, Poland, Germany, and Denmark and took 22 hours. Two 30-minute breaks for meals. Four 5-minute breaks to refuel the car and empty our bladders.

Two nights in a “Double Room Plus” at the spa resort for 70 euro per night. In addition, there’s an entrance fee for the pools at 10 euro per person, plus lunch for 9 euro/personn and dinner for 9 euro/person. We splurged on a one-hour massage for 20 euro/person. The massage was so thorough that Elena now has bruises on her back.

It feels nice to feel wealthy — just think what this would have cost in Sweden. Some might think we are taking advantage of Ukraine’s poverty, but tourism is one of many ways to help make Ukraine wealthier. Of course, the war is an obstacle, and there is the risk it will continue for several more years. When I see young Ukrainian men, I can’t help but think that in a few years they might be lying in the trenches.

We have reached the Carpathian Mountains and spent a night in a ski resort. Even people in a country at war take vacations, but billboards about the war reminded them of the seriousness.

Elena and I started the day with a few hours of hiking in the mountains. We thought it looked like some parts of Sweden, but with a fun swing. After a short visit to the resort’s center, we got tired of the tourist crowds and set our sights on a spa facility near the Slovakian border. The road there took us down toward the Romanian border, and suddenly we got stuck in a long line. The Ukrainian border police had set up a checkpoint to look for deserters. Quite logical, since the border with Romania runs along a river that you could swim across. On the Ukrainian side, however, it’s lined with sharp barbed-wire fences.

In the cities, you can’t drink the water, but often you can in the countryside. Today we traveled through an area without water pipelines. Instead, each house has its own well with a beautiful little house built around it, and there’s also at least one public well in every village. Homeowners often install an electric pump to bring the water inside. We used one of the wells to refill our water supply.

The further southwest we go, the more hilly the landscape gets. We climbed up a hill to look at a ruin. But we spent much more time enjoying the view and listening to all the sounds from the village that easily carried up to us. Elena was a bit hard to convince but now agrees with me that Ukraine is a beautiful country.

The highlight of the day almost got missed. I use OpenStreetMap for navigation instead of Google. With OpenStreetMap I find it easier to spot tourist attractions, and today I noticed what looked like a ferry crossing over the Dniester River. I was very doubtful since it showed that the road to the ferry was a tractor path. But in a village I found a half-century-old sign that said Паром — ferry. The village road turned into a tractor path, which got narrower and narrower and the vegetation scraped the sides of the car. Eventually, we were at the riverbank. On the other side there was a parasol and an air mattress floating in the water. But the kids playing there probably weren’t working as ferrymen.

Very disappointed, I drove back at a slightly more aggressive pace on a tractor path that Elena probably felt should only be used by tractors. We rolled back into the village and continued out. Then I remembered the map had shown another ferry crossing nearby. Granted, I’d thought it seemed even less likely. The first one led to a village, the second to nothing. And the sign in the village was hard to interpret — it could have been pointing to a road leading to the other ferry.

Elena was skeptical but I was stubborn and after a few minutes of arguing about how amazing the experience could be, I got permission to turn around. And it was jackpot. Being the fourth car on the small ferry was nerve-wracking. I’m sure the tires were partly off the ramp but the ferryman directed us with full confidence.

A steel cable ran across the river, and the ferry was connected to it with two other cables. The ferryman released the brake on one cable and briefly started a small engine that pulled on the other cable. The ferry changed angle, the current caught it, and we began gliding across to the other side. To go back, they just did the opposite. The current did the work. We celebrated by even taking a swim in the warm water.

The heavy attacks on Kyiv last night set the city on fire. Meanwhile, our vacation continued southwest. In Kamianets-Podilskyi, we and other tourists visited the town’s fortress. But it feels different when it’s made for tourists, and neither Elena nor I were particularly impressed. From the fortress, however, we looked back toward the city and stood for a long time discussing Ukrainians’ sense of style. How can you build a large, palace-like house and surround it with a blue sheet metal fence? Unfortunately, it’s not an uncommon sight with new houses in Ukraine. And when we’ve stayed at newly built hotels, everything is so luxurious with marble, tiles, and so on. But the electrical outlets barely stay in the walls. Sinks and faucets are rarely straight, and moldings just stop if they didn’t reach any further.

In the countryside here in southwestern Ukraine, we are instead impressed by the old buildings. Many of the houses are plastered in gray and seem to be of incredibly high quality. We’ve seen countless abandoned houses. Sometimes almost overgrown with vegetation or with collapsed roofs, but the plaster on the walls remains. At most, the house has settled a bit and formed a crack in the facade, and then some plaster may have become water-damaged and fallen off. If people live in the houses, they look as if they’ve just been freshly plastered.

The day started at the local market where you could, among other things, buy severed chicken heads. A bit further on we found a charity market for the Ukrainian military. In every village we pass through, the local town hall always flies the flag at half-mast, and the cemeteries have many new graves with flags and flowers.

There are many memorials from World War II, but I’ve noticed that in many cemeteries where there are separate soldier sections, they’ve been left to grow over. Maybe people let go of the memory of WWII in 2014 when new soldier graves began to appear. The vegetation is very lush in the area we’re traveling through now, so it’s quite possible they’ve stood untouched for eleven years.

Our own journey took us to a school for children with intellectual disabilities. A boarding school with 140 students housed in an old palace. Beautiful buildings but very worn down. We spent the night in a castle where a man declared his own republic when the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was partitioned at the end of the 18th century. In his country, serfdom was abolished because he thought it was unjust. Religion was banned because it caused conflict, and he wanted people to make their own decisions. A kind of parliament was formed, and courts were introduced. Wedged between the Russian Empire and the Habsburg Empire, the micronation couldn’t defend itself, and after a few years, the Russians imprisoned him, which unfortunately led to his death...

Finally time to leave the big city. Our first stop was the theme park Kyiv Rus, which has met a tragic fate. The park was built fifteen years ago and shows what Kyiv looked like between the 6th and 14th centuries. The buildings are sturdy, made with thick logs, constructed in the same way they would have been back then.

Jousting tournaments and similar events used to be held here, drawing thousands of spectators. Then came Covid. The park is still open and some activities are still organized on weekends. The buildings, being solidly built with thick logs, have held up well. But the rest of the park has fallen into disrepair, and it’s fascinating to see the tall flowers and how nature tries to reclaim what it can.

We are heading southwest now, and it’s so beautiful. The area is mostly farmland, broken up by strips of forest. The roads are lined with lush trees and bushes. Ukraine is perfect for a road trip, but I wish I spoke Ukrainian. We sometimes pick up hitchhikers, and through Elena I try to ask them about their lives. Today, for example, we gave a ride to a woman on her way home from work at a large farm with about 50 employees. Their main focus is pig farming, but they also have quite a bit of farmland. They don’t have machines as large as those in Sweden, and there’s less automation, so more workers are needed.

Tonight we’re staying in the village of Ruzhyn, which has about 4,000 inhabitants. One of the farms runs a simple hotel as a side business, and our double room costs €14. It’s cheap, but the interior is worn and many spoiled Swedes would probably refuse to stay here. There’s nothing really wrong — it’s just a bit shabby.

PS. Today a gas station exploded near Zhytomyr. Probably sabotage, since a gas station doesn’t just blow up for no reason. We would have passed that station at about that time if I had followed the GPS’s original route. But I prefer the countryside and chose a different way.

When Elena’s father was young, he was always the one who stood out the most and made the most noise. He was the center of the party, the one who got himself and his friends the best seats. The downside of marrying such a person is that everything keeps revolving around them. It makes me uneasy that the adjustments needed because of Elena’s mother’s Parkinson’s disease mostly have to be made from her father’s perspective. There won’t be any nursing home this time.

There were several things Elena’s parents needed help with. One of them led to an interesting trip to buy a car battery. We went to an indoor market where vendors sat in their stalls. The whole market was dedicated to cars, and you walked around asking for what you needed. If one didn’t have it, they would tell you where else to look. Naturally, Elena’s father had to bargain, but luckily there isn’t much to criticize about a car battery. There are no dents, wrong colors, or flaws — so it was a quick round where he got a small symbolic discount so he could feel like he won.

We also visited an oasis in the big city — a family of eccentrics who refuse to sell their land to housing developers. So right in the middle of all the high-rises sits a house with a large garden, goats, and chickens.

One of the reasons for going to Kyiv was to look for potential nursing homes for Elena’s mother. In Ukraine, elderly care is a luxury you pay for. Elena looked into options costing around 450–550 euros per month, which means you get a shared room with three beds. The first home was located a bit south of the city, in what was once a summer cottage area but has largely been rebuilt with villas.

It was a pleasant place with a garden, fountain, common room, and more. In Ukraine, they love tiles and ceramic floors, so maybe it feels cozy, but to me it looked more institutional. So the main difference from a Swedish home was probably that more people lived in each room.

The second home we visited is shown in the last photo and was located in the urban area. It had the same price range but was significantly worse. The common areas were small and dull. The staircases were narrow, so the staff probably avoided moving people between floors, and there wasn’t much staff at all. The idea seemed to be that you were supposed to stay in bed. I don’t understand who pays 450 euros a month for that lack of service. Elena’s parents together have a pension of about 270 euros a month.

It would be interesting to know what a place in a nursing home in a smaller town costs. Everything is more expensive in Kyiv. Hopefully we’ll meet someone we can ask.

Before Elena moved to Sweden, she had never heard of orienteering, but it also exists in Kyiv. First, we ran a middle-distance race at Africa Beach, a peninsula in the Dnipro River. 4.3 kilometers where the surface was mostly soft sand probably burned off a calorie or two. It went well for me though, and I finished second in the men’s 45 class.

The next day there was a sprint orienteering race in a residential area. Sprint is Elena’s favorite, but unfortunately she suffered a “brain fade” when she was just a few meters from one of her controls and wandered around for ten minutes before realizing she had been in the right spot all along.

An unusual aspect when searching for a hotel is to look at where the Russians are bombing. In Kyiv, we found an apartment in a three-story building that is protected to the north by a row of 30-story high-rises. To the south stretches an old summer cottage area which has been transformed so that people have built houses on almost every square meter of land — but sending a drone there would kill too few people.

Here we are probably relatively safe, but the view is not exactly to my taste. For a big city whose country is at war, Kyiv is surprisingly clean. But it’s cramped and expensive. Buying strawberries or eating at a restaurant is twice as expensive compared to what we paid in western Ukraine. At first, I thought that Kyiv residents must be crazy to accept living so crowded together. Then I realized how grateful one should be for people who accept living close together. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be peace and quiet in the countryside.

We are staying for a while in Kyiv to visit relatives and friends of Elena’s, including her aunt.

In the evening we saw that our visit was mentioned on Facebook (AI translation):

An unexpected but very pleasant meeting took place at the Korosten City Palace of Culture named after T. G. Shevchenko. To visit the exhibition in the museum room of products from the Korosten Porcelain Factory, Mrs. Olena Ek and Mr. David Ek, who live in Sweden, came to the Palace of Culture.

During the meeting and the heartfelt conversation, it turned out that the couple not only are interested in the history of the local community but also support Ukrainians in their resistance against the armed aggression of the Russian Federation. They help people, as much as possible, to continue living and working for Ukraine’s victory. Therefore, Mrs. Olena and Mr. David offered to donate a color printer to the cultural workers of Korosten municipality as a sign of solidarity in the difficult situation the Ukrainian people find themselves in.

But the meeting also became symbolic because the honored guests mentioned are residents of the city of Kristianstad in Sweden — the very city where the famous Ukrainian Hetman Pylyp Orlyk lived in the 18th century. He is the author of Europe’s, and possibly the world’s, first democratic constitution. In memory of this important fact, a statue and a memorial plaque dedicated to Pylyp Orlyk, as well as the centuries-old historical and cultural ties between Sweden and Ukraine, have been solemnly unveiled in Kristianstad. Therefore, this is a symbolic occasion for us in connection with the celebration of Ukraine’s Constitution Day on June 28!

We express our gratitude to Mrs. Olena and Mr. David for their help, sincerity, and inspiration! We always look forward to more meetings in the future!

Korosten used to have a porcelain factory and we visited a small exhibition of porcelain that is displayed in Korosten’s Palace of Culture. The receptionist didn’t have the key to the exhibition room but could turn on the lights so we could look inside from the outside. After a while, a beautiful woman in high heels came by to see if she could find a key. While she was gone, the director of the Palace of Culture showed up and decided the matter was more urgent. He flung open a door with the motto “Where the hell is the key, there are Swedes who want to have a look!”.

The key appeared and he started telling us about the porcelain that was exported to 124 countries, and showed us a dinner set of which only two were made. One was given to Brezhnev and the other was kept at the factory as a keepsake. Then a fourth person appeared — a woman who was probably the one who usually showed the exhibition. But she mostly assisted with specific facts, as the director was far too enthusiastic.

After many interesting stories about porcelain and why we were in Ukraine, the beautiful woman returned and the director then came up with the idea that we should be offered tea. I have learned that the nicest thing you can do in such a situation is to say yes, so I surprised Elena by replying “Da!” when she translated.

Tea, cookies, sweets, gifts, and many more topics of conversation eventually led us to talk about how they have quite a lot of cultural activities for young people — and that we had a color laser printer in the car that we wanted to donate. Led by the director, we marched down to the head of cultural activities who, a bit confused, got a quick explanation that here were two Swedes who love Ukraine and porcelain and they had brought a color laser printer for the city’s youth.

More hugs and more thank-yous, and then the director and I helped each other carry in the printer. A table was brought out into the foyer in front of the national symbol of wheat, which was colored in Ukraine’s blue and yellow. The printer was placed there and everyone then gathered around it for photos.

When it was time to wrap up, Elena asked to use the restroom and I was invited into the director’s office where he searched the shelves for postcards, stickers, and other things to give me. When I spotted a small table flag and asked if it was the region’s flag, he yanked it from its place so the flagpole’s base went flying and disappeared somewhere. In a solemn voice, he said something that probably meant I should keep it as a souvenir, and handed it to me with another hug. By now it was honestly starting to feel a bit too much and I tried to say no, but it was hopeless. So when Elena’s bathroom break was over, it wasn’t just her who felt relieved.

After the meal, we took a long walk and discovered that the remains from the local glassworks had been used as fill material for the roads. It sounds strange but it seemed like they had mixed it around for a while so that it looked more like the polished glass pieces you can find on the beach.

By the school, we found a strange structure that we first thought was a garage but then realized there was no road leading to it. On closer inspection, the obvious became clear. If you want to protect all the school’s children from bombs, you need a fairly large shelter. So the school’s football field was replaced by a bunker.

In general, people spend a lot of time outdoors in the evenings, and in Rokytne this was especially evident at the sports field sponsored by the glass factory. From a Swedish perspective, it was impressive to see so many children and teenagers playing. The sports field resembled Swedish sports grounds, but schoolyards are more different. Here they seem to have the attitude that children should learn the hard way to be careful not to fall. The schoolyards have lots of equipment that encourages climbing and gymnastics, and it must be common for children to come home with bruises and scrapes. One of the pieces of equipment was especially interesting. Climb three meters up in the air and then improvise how you get down.

Which country do I want to sponsor with my vacation money? Ukraine, of course. So Elena and I went there. So close, yet so exotic. I usually hate shopping, but I dragged Elena into the local market in Volodymyr and bought strawberries and dried apples from an old lady.

In Kovel, I surprised Elena by turning into the museum dedicated to Ukraine’s most famous poet, Lesya Ukrainka. The reason? I had seen some pictures and noticed there were beautiful tiled stoves inside.

Then it was time for more David-style tourism – a decaying house in Volodymyrets. To find it, we had to stop and read the map, which clearly hadn’t been updated in years. I took a wrong turn and, true to form, accidentally ended up driving into an area full of soldiers. But putting on my best “confused tourist” face, I calmly kept driving before the machine guns could be loaded. Once we found the right place, we took a walk through a very charming town with exotic Soviet-style city planning. There were two grand avenues: one active and well-kept in the center, and the other leading to a district that probably was never built and has since faded into oblivion.

For our second night in Ukraine, we went big and chose the hotel’s finest room, complete with a sitting room, bedroom, and two bathrooms. We had to pay 30 Euro, and dinner added another 10 Euro. But it was worth it — there was a bidet! For the first time, I seriously tried how Southern Europeans manage without toilet paper. Better experience than expected. Elena is usually more barbaric than I am and, for example, can eat pizza with her hands — but this was her limit. Being rinsed in the butt like a toddler is a phase she considers long behind her.

Talk about taking customer relations seriously. Yesterday, I and three colleagues who previously worked with the surgical planning system Orbit took the opportunity to meet Orbit’s Norwegian customers while they were visiting Kristianstad. We brought them to Åhus, took a walk on the beach, and enjoyed good food and drinks at a restaurant. An incredibly pleasant evening, and I was reminded of how much I appreciate customer contact.

May turned out to be a month mostly focused on orienteering. On Saturday morning, we organized the Skåne Championships in sprint orienteering, and in the afternoon, the Skåne Championships in sprint relay orienteering. Very convenient to organize an event just 500 meters from where I live, and financially smart to run two events on the same day.

Managed the registration and timing at the Sparbanksloppet race in Glimåkra. A small race with 119 participants, and true to my habit, I implemented a few efficiency improvements. Most things worked well, but there are a few adjustments I need to make for next year.

Over the long weekend, Elena and I supported FK Göingarna’s talented elite runners in achieving great results. On Thursday, the third round of the Swedish League was held, where Sweden’s best orienteers will eventually be crowned. And since Sweden is one of the world's leading orienteering nations, many international stars run for Swedish clubs.

Elena and I aren’t fans of early mornings, so we headed to Linköping already on Wednesday. A successful move, as it included the Selin triplets — Svante, for example, is a Junior World Championship silver medalist, Wilmer a Swedish champion, and Tuva, who is also a skilled elite runner, but compared to her brothers’ medal haul, she can only beat them in looks.

Spending time with and helping elite runners is brilliant for someone lazy who still wants to feel successful. I could never manage their training routines, but by asking all kinds of deep questions, I can get a sense of what it feels like to be the best. And by helping them in various ways, I become part of their success. Their accomplishments give me pride and joy — without any real effort.

A warm Thursday was certainly pleasant but a shock to the body, and my own capacity felt far from elite level. On Friday, Elena and I went to Vadstena, known for its 800-year-old monastery. The goal, however, was to run orienteering in the city — not to be saved. But the old buildings made the orienteering especially fun.

The weekend’s highlight was the Tiomila relay with over 6,000 participants, and our task was to support the club’s runners with food, care, and service. Since the competition lasts nearly a full day, the support logistics are quite complex. Food must always be available as runners eat at different times. They also need good sleep, so a transport schedule is required to shuttle them to and from the hotel. As team leaders, we had to snatch an hour of sleep whenever we could. I took my hour in the backseat of a minibus between two transports.

But despite the demanding shift, it was without a doubt worth it. Our runners performed incredibly well, and we had three of our Czech club members present, which always adds extra joy.

For the 40th time, the UN Association in Kristianstad organized the Ukraine demonstration in the city center. Elena was, as usual, the interpreter, and today we listened to how the Central Hospital in Kristianstad is working to donate materials to Ukraine. Jan Lindelöf, chairman of the UN Association, also repeated our demand: Russia out of ALL of Ukraine!

Russia has previously received help from Iran and North Korea, and it is not very surprising that it is those countries. However, it feels extremely strange that the USA now seems interested in joining that coalition.

Sonia, who has now started practicing driving, suddenly wants to plan activities with the family. Today we visited Upzone in Åhus. Some of the obstacles are up in the treetops and are both difficult and uncomfortable to pass, but afterward, you feel satisfied.

Elena held an ECG course at Visby Hospital on Thursday and Friday, and I joined as a test subject. However, I didn't have to be there the whole time, so I took a walk in the forest and found an abandoned house – which was locked – but had an open window. And if there's a ladder under the window...

In addition, we went on some excursions, did orienteering in a beautiful Gotlandic forest, and participated in a photo quiz in Visby. You had to go to a location on the map and then match the correct photo taken at that spot. While walking through Visby's many alleys, Elena took pictures of beautiful doors.

Once a month, the UN Association in Kristianstad holds a demonstration with the motto "Russia out of Ukraine." This Saturday, I was one of the speakers and shared my encounter with the Ukrainian girls. To the Swedish audience, I focused on how the situation in Ukraine is moving towards improvement. To the Ukrainian audience, I emphasized that all corruption must be fought – both at the highest and lowest levels.

Last Friday evening, I returned home after an 18-hour train ride, 20 hours by bus, 3 hours by boat, and 5 hours of transfer time. Elena and Sonia welcomed me with spaghetti and meat sauce, as well as chocolate ball dough.

My relatives gathered 1,260 EUR (1,370 USD) before I left, of which 550 EUR (600 USD) went to Operation Change, 230 EUR (250 USD) to the girls at the nursing home, and the remaining 480 EUR (520 USD) to Jonas M's front-line deliveries.

I've been reflecting on what I took away from Ukraine. One thing is that Ukrainians are generally very kind. Take traffic, for example: it's much more intense than in Sweden. Higher speeds, smaller margins, more people taking liberties. But almost no one honks or gives the finger. They use both the brake and the steering wheel and adapt to what others are doing. As a non-Ukrainian speaker or Russian speaker, it's often difficult to make oneself understood, but Ukrainians are patient and often quick to pull out their phones to translate.

The second thing I take with me is their sorrow and, although they hide it well, also their sense of injustice. They didn't ask for this war; they just want to live in freedom and build a better country for themselves and their children. They understand that it is their problem that Russia has attacked them. They are incredibly grateful for the help they receive from other countries. But when I dug deeper, especially the women said: "Why must my husband, my son, my brother die?" Their rational understanding of the conflict clashes with their emotions. Moreover, they realize that even though they are tired of the war, they have no choice. They wish there could be a peace agreement, but will the Western world really protect them when Russia has regained its strength? Maybe they are forced to fight until they win the war? It's very similar to the situation during World War II. How many people today think that Britain should have sought a peace agreement after Hitler had conquered most of mainland Europe? How many think that the U.S. should have given up Hawaii and other Pacific islands to appease Japan?

I received some pictures. The first two are from the military facility where we delivered stoves and pallets. The third picture is from the girls at the nursing home. When refugees came from the east, they needed an immediate place to stay, so they moved into the abandoned student dormitory. At night, the refugees slept in the rooms, and during the day, the furniture was moved out or pushed together so the girls could renovate. They continued like this for months until all the rooms were somewhat renovated.

Yesterday, we received a very exciting assignment. We were to drive to a military facility and deliver stoves and pallets. The EU pallets are used for various purposes, including as flooring in tents and bunkers, with carpets laid over them. We drove through a training area with burning tires, trenches, obstacle courses, an area for urban combat training, and much more. Everywhere, there were soldiers training and the sound of gunfire echoed. We passed by a group that might have been returning to their tents after training. They looked tired and determined. Some of them were women. Further ahead, we reached the area where they live. It almost looked like an Eastern European campsite—tents with cars parked wherever possible, clothes hanging to dry, and some tables and chairs. We continued driving and passed an area likely used to acclimate soldiers to fighting with or against tanks. However, this area had sandy soil, so it did not look as dreadful as Donbas.

Soldiers helped us unload, making the process incredibly fast. Then, I told the major how fascinating it was to see this area and managed to get myself a little extra tour. The military had actually ordered us to leave as quickly as possible since they had been bombed the day before and feared a follow-up attack. We got a look inside a bunker, a logistics tent, and a tent where the staff managed their planning—almost like an office.

Today was the best day of the entire trip. I had previously been assigned the task of arranging a delivery to the women who had set up a retirement home. Since I am not only here to deliver supplies but also to learn more about life here—and life during wartime—I sent strong signals that the women picked up on. So, we started by attending a concert for the elderly, and I could imagine that it was a type of performance that might have taken place in a Soviet-era community center. Then, we participated in the food distribution. The food is delivered warm by World Central Kitchen, a nonprofit organization. Today, it was a type of large meatball made with ground meat, eggs, and rice, served with boiled buckwheat and a banana for dessert. There were some portions left over. My colleague did not want to take food from the refugees, but I was eager to taste it, and it was undoubtedly delicious. Some vegetables would have been nice, but the residents keep their own food supplies in their rooms to supplement the meals.

Then it was time to leave. My colleague is usually the talkative one, but now I was the one chatting away while he made several attempts to stand up from his chair. Eventually, my delaying tactics worked. A 93-year-old woman had fallen a week ago and fractured her arm. After the hospital visit, it was determined that she needed more care, so she was moved to a private care facility costing 2200 SEK per month. The average pension is 1500 SEK. However, she was unhappy in the new home and wanted to return to the women, and we were asked if we wanted to come along. I said YES. My colleague said NO. Since I had mentally prepared for this, I quickly suggested that my colleague take the car to the warehouse while I stayed behind.

The private care facility was in a nice, modern house with high fences surrounding it. To enter or exit through the gate, someone had to press a button at the reception. There was a beautiful garden with three cats. The reception was tiled, with a fine visitor’s sofa. But then, the conditions changed rapidly. The elderly lay in both rooms and corridors, with minimal space for personal belongings. The 93-year-old was impressively alert for her age and was annoyed by the mentally ill patients pacing back and forth or making various noises. However, the women’s retirement home lacked the resources to care for a 93-year-old woman with a broken arm. This issue was solved when the women arranged for a caregiver who, for 1500 SEK per month, would help her with hygiene, grocery shopping, and similar needs. So overall, she was moving to a better place for a lower cost. Rent at the women’s home is 40 SEK (which goes to the house owner), and beyond that, she only needed money for medicine, breakfast, and supplements for the provided lunch and dinner.

I spent seven hours with the women, and we delved deep into their lives, opinions, and assessments of Ukraine. I had mostly spoken with men aged 50–60 before, which had given me a rather bleak impression. But now, the age range was 22–38, and they saw gradual improvements. They told me that everyday corruption had significantly decreased. The most common examples of everyday corruption used to be bribing the police when caught speeding and giving money under the table to hospital doctors. But none of them had paid bribes for at least the past five years. If they received fines or other penalties, they had to be paid at the bank. Bribing the police was something they wouldn’t dare try—it was illegal, and there was a risk that the situation could become even worse. They also mentioned that their parents were used to giving money under the table, but now they sometimes faced the embarrassment of having their bribes refused.

Schools are improving. Children with different needs (ADHD, autism) are integrated into regular classrooms as much as possible. Children are generally not afraid of their teachers and could cooperate with them in a Western manner. Some old-fashioned authoritarian teachers remained, but a sort of compromise existed—these teachers knew about modern educational approaches, and parents taught their children that they would encounter such people in life and must find ways to work with them.

The people I spoke with belonged to Ukraine’s middle class in a major city, and while change varied in speed, they believed progress was happening in the villages as well. Some of them had grown up in smaller communities. In the cities, at least, there are extracurricular activities for children. The problem was that these usually cost money, which excluded the poor. All of them viewed Zelenskyy very positively and were annoyed by those who complained about everything he hadn’t done. They felt that people didn’t understand that Zelenskyy couldn’t decide everything on his own—there was a large number of "old political elites" obstructing progress. However, they did not want Zelenskyy to have more power. They did not want a “Putin” in Ukraine who could do whatever he wanted.

One concern was taxes. Roads and buildings are often in poor condition. One had to be insightful and a certain type of person to see the improvements and understand that change takes time—especially when so much money had to be spent on the war. They also felt it was unfair that low-wage earners making the minimum salary of 1800–2500 SEK per month still had to pay 30% in taxes. In general, the willingness to pay taxes was very low, and many tried to avoid it.

We had a long and interesting discussion about gender equality. It started when a delivery of furniture arrived, and the girls immediately stepped aside while several men, including myself, carried everything inside. "Of course, we could carry things – but we have men for that," was their response when I commented on how different this was from Sweden. It was fascinating to hear young women reason so differently than Swedes.

I occasionally asked slightly provocative questions to see if they truly believed what they were saying. In summary, both men and women should help at home, but with different tasks. Some things are done by men, others by women. And they were completely fine with the fact that, as women, they would have less "free time" than men—because men are expected to bring in more money for the household.

When I explained how things work in Sweden, they could see some advantages but considered them low-priority issues. The only aspect they found interesting to adopt was the Swedish approach that both boys and girls should learn the same basic life skills—how to cook, do laundry, do carpentry, sew, and so on.

In the evening, I rejoined my colleagues for a farewell dinner. Before the westbound train departed, I went into a store to buy some food for the journey. There, I was confronted by a military man in his 50s or 60s who, speaking 99% Ukrainian, talked to me for at least five minutes. He was so grateful for the foreign aid and for my presence that tears began to flow. From what I understood, he had fought in Donbas for three months, often without food or water. He had just arrived by train for a few days of leave. He was generally optimistic but carried visible sorrow and pain. When he mentioned Trump, I saw anger. I think he was trying to say that people are dying for freedom and democracy and that Trump had blood on his hands. There were many firm handshakes and hugs. It was the most overwhelming experience I’ve had hera, and it felt almost wrong to board a train away from the battle that will determine what kind of future my daughter Sonia will have.

First, we took a trip to the city of Zaporizhzhia. In Sweden, the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant is the most well-known, and it is occupied by Russia, but the city itself remains Ukrainian. We made a quick delivery of fire extinguishers before heading back to Dnipro, where we revisited the basement women who weave camouflage nets. After unloading, we were invited for a coffee break, and through an interpreter, I had the opportunity to speak with some of the women about their experiences. One of them had lived under occupation, and her strategy was to remain as invisible as possible. The Russians were primarily looking for men who could be forcibly recruited or suspected of sympathizing with Ukraine. As an older woman, she was left alone.

Eventually, it became unbearable to stay, and they used a humanitarian corridor to reach Ukrainian-controlled territory. The journey was 180 kilometers and took six days to complete. There were countless checkpoints and interrogations by Russian soldiers. The children slept in the car, while the adults lay directly on the asphalt. Stray dogs roamed around them, searching for scraps of food. She has now been living in Dnipro for two years. Her grandchildren have adapted and live relatively carefree, but she still cries almost daily over her lost home.

Two other women lived downstream from the dam that the Russians blew up. One of them was lucky and lived on a hill, so she was "only" surrounded by water. This allowed her to evacuate in a more controlled manner, bringing along two cocker spaniels and a bag of photographs. However, she had to leave behind another dog and two parrots. Many people managed to flee, while the elderly who couldn’t escape perished in silence. But the haunting sounds of dogs, cows, horses, and other animals left behind to drown still torment her. Another woman lived on lower ground, and for her family, there was no choice but to flee as quickly as possible, taking little more than the clothes on their backs.

It was difficult to ask them to share their experiences. Their pain was evident, but I wanted to hear their stories so I could pass them on to you. I tried to be considerate and end by asking how their children and grandchildren are living now, so they had something more positive to talk about. They all emphasized how important the sense of community in the basement was. Producing these nets, sleeping bags, mattresses, gloves, and more is not just a way to help Ukraine but also a form of therapy that helps them endure their situation.

When we returned to the base, the air defense system activated, and we could see tracer rounds in the sky. Whether they managed to shoot down the drone, I do not know. I neither saw nor heard any explosion.

I saw that the attack on Dobropillya made it into the news back home in Sweden. Russia carried out a so-called double tap—two ballistic missiles hitting the same location half an hour apart, targeting both the initial site and the rescue personnel who had gathered. About ten hours earlier, we were 400 meters from the impact site, delivering supplies.

We didn’t stay long at the base. Yesterday, a smaller truck was loaded with 100 fire extinguishers and two hospital beds, and two of us headed north for a delivery to Sumy. The truck was sluggish, and the check engine light was blinking, but since it’s an old vehicle with 350,000 kilometers on it, we kept pushing forward. Near Kharkiv, we took the left turn, and a few kilometers before Okhtyrka — 30 km from the Russian border — the truck started acting up. I spotted a bus stop where I wanted to pull over, and just before reaching it, the truck died, rolling the last few meters.

At first, I felt a bit lost. What do you do when your vehicle breaks down in the Ukrainian countryside? We sent an emergency message to Operation Change, and soon, three Swedes and three Ukrainians were working remotely on a solution. After a while, two Ukrainians showed up and started troubleshooting. Two became three, and three became four, but after a few hours, it was clear that the truck needed to be towed. It turned into a calm day in beautiful sunshine, and we spent the night at a hotel. This morning, we took a bus back to Dnipro. The truck will stay for repairs, and the delivery will be completed later.

After an afternoon at the warehouse, we are now back at the base. The time is 10:20 PM, and the air defense is firing its automatic cannons. Apparently, drones are approaching or flying overhead.

Two days ago, we once again headed east with two overnight stays in Sloviansk. We delivered supplies to eight locations. Fire extinguishers and adult diapers are things we frequently distribute. In this shipment, we also had a lot of dog food with us. A new experience was when a pastor guided us to a village where we handed out shoes, clothes, warming candles, and incontinence pads. We drove into the village where many people were waiting—and then we got stuck in the Ukrainian mud. Oh well, I thought, we’ll just have to stay here and distribute. But we weren’t allowed to start until the pastor had given his sermon and handed out bread. The idea was that we would unpack our boxes in the meantime. But quite a few people weren’t interested in the pastor or his bread—they just wanted to see what we had brought. It felt humiliating to have to keep people away from our boxes, but we couldn’t let them start taking things either. That would have been unfair, and in the worst case, it could have led to fights.

When we finally opened the doors, there was a scramble to find the best items. But despite that, the atmosphere was pleasant, and the people were very grateful. I think the biggest impact of distributing supplies in the villages is showing people that they are not forgotten. These are people who have stayed in their homes and still have their belongings, unlike those who have fled or been evacuated and lost almost everything.

Then it was time to try to get out of there, and one of the villagers brought his small tractor. But we were on a slope, and he insisted on pulling us upward, while we wanted to be pulled downward. At one point, we had a tow rope attached to a tractor in the front and another tow rope attached to a group of cheerful old men in the back. Luckily, we managed to make the tractor driver realize that it would be embarrassing if there was a tug-of-war between him and the men—and that he would lose. So he joined the "pulling backward" team and got us back onto the road.

At another location, we delivered toys, wheelchairs, and fire extinguishers and got help from a great young guy. It was perfect because he could move around among the boxes and crates much more easily than we could. I was impressed by his strength since the fire extinguishers are quite heavy. But the feeling of helping out among adults probably gave him an extra boost of strength.

In the evening, drones struck the city, but at such a distance that we didn’t hear anything while sitting indoors. However, the man we stayed with was outside smoking and saw two fireballs rise into the sky.

One sad thing I reflected on was that the cities in Ukraine, especially those in the east, are run-down. That makes it hard to really see the effects of the bombings. Here and there, there are collapsed houses, but unless they were hit directly in the middle, leaving an obvious unnatural hole, the damage could just as easily be the result of neglect. Surrounding buildings were likely damaged by the explosions as well, but it’s difficult to tell. I truly hope that Ukraine will be able to get its democracy, corruption issues, and the country as a whole in order so that it can go through the same transformation that Poland and several other Eastern European countries have experienced.

Today, I am so tired that I can barely remember what I did. But according to the photos, we loaded the car and delivered the supplies somewhere in Dnipro. What I do remember well, however, is a visit to an organization we were interviewing to determine if it is a legitimate entity that Operation Change should support. Three young women (20-25 years old) welcomed us and showed us a four-story nursing home they had set up six months ago when 140 elderly people had to be evacuated from villages in the Donbas region. A group of about ten friends had heard about the need and found an old student dormitory as a solution. Now, these ten friends run the nursing home around the clock entirely as volunteers.

I don't understand how they have managed to accomplish so much in such a short time, but they have secured assistance for new windows, room furnishings, rewired electricity, and renovated plumbing. The students' shower was in the basement, which does not work for elderly people in a building without an elevator. Instead, they have managed to install a shower cabin on each floor. However, even though this is a major improvement, nearly 40 people share each shower.

Each room houses four elderly residents, and while the heating is acceptable, moisture seeps in, so black mold is visible on the walls in almost every room, and there is no ventilation. Since the building lacks an elevator, most residents are confined to their floor. The women’s wish list includes refrigerators. The elderly receive meals served in their rooms twice a day, but any additional food—or leftovers they save—is kept in a bag next to their beds. The women worry about what will happen in the summer when it gets hot in the rooms and the food risks spoiling without the elderly noticing.

Poor girls. What an enormous task they have taken on and what tremendous challenges they are facing. One thing Operation Change can help them with in the near future is bedding. Currently, there are only as many sets of bedding as there are beds, which makes changing them complicated.

Full-day trip to a village southeast of Kharkiv, where we delivered hand sanitizer and stoves to a wonderful group of elderly ladies. A Ukrainian version of a sewing circle - except instead of preparing for a Christmas market, they are making supplies for the war. Their men came to unload the truck. They were a fun bunch as well — lots of instructions flying back and forth, with more focus on brute strength than strategy.

The ladies also take care of two bomb shelters, one of which was used as a torture chamber by the Russians during the occupation of the village. Now, it is once again a shelter, but they are trying to preserve the traces of torture as evidence for future generations.

Once the unloading was done, they treated us to a three-course meal with soup, chicken, and blueberry pie. They were such lovely women, and honestly, I would have loved to stay there for several days. But they were also worried. They spoke about soldiers who hadn’t been able to change their socks for 50 days because they were stuck at the front. They are anxious about what will happen now that Trump has become friends with Putin, but at the same time, they know giving up is not an option—it would only make things worse. They are deeply grateful for the support from Sweden and other countries, even though, in reality, we should be the ones thanking them—for taking on the fight against Russia so that we don’t have to.

Mostly warehouse work today, but we also made a delivery of nearly 100 stoves, which are welded together in Sweden and then sent to Ukraine. These are then distributed to soldiers at the front.

When we are not working, we stay in a house with a kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room on the ground floor. In the living room, our leaders have combined an office and a bedroom. Upstairs, the volunteers sleep on mattresses on the floor. It is simple accommodation—relatively fresh furniture but often a bit broken. The house was probably built by enthusiastic amateurs and will likely develop mold problems if it hasn’t already. The windowsills have peeled because condensation runs down from the windows. I’m just glad I don’t own it.

The location of the accommodation and warehouse is secret, and we turn off the GPS on our phones when approaching. Every morning, we check to ensure the vehicles haven’t been mined or tampered with. Each person always carries a first aid kit with supplies optimized for self-bandaging in case of an emergency. We have also trained to bandage ourselves using only one hand. We have protective vests and helmets as well, but we only wear them in dangerous areas. Otherwise, we just bring them in the vehicles.

Yesterday was a full day at the warehouse. Today, we first visited a basement where women produce camouflage nets, mattresses, and pillows for soldiers at the front. One might think it would be more efficient to buy these in a store and send them to the front, but the mattresses and pillows are specially designed to withstand frontline conditions and be easy to carry. Additionally, making them serves as a form of therapy to cope with the anxiety of war.

Next, we delivered stoves to a group that supports the military with supplies. They treated us to coffee and showed us a small exhibition of items they had received from the brigades they supply. Among the exhibits were parts of a Shahed drone, some things the Russians had left behind, and many paintings created by soldiers as part of their rest and recovery at the rear lines of the front.

Before coming to Ukraine, my relatives collected money and entrusted me to put it to good use here. Operation Change collaborates with many Ukrainian partners, one of whom is a builder who repairs bomb-damaged houses so people can continue living in them. He had come across a youth center that had been damaged in an attack. Since only the rooms with intact walls and roofs could still be used, he wished for help to restore the center. Because Operation Change ensures that funds are used correctly, I contributed 4,000 SEK to support the repairs.

Driving east from Dnipro means getting closer to the front line. There are many military vehicles in traffic, and the number of checkpoints increases, but the atmosphere is friendly when we are inspected. I thought the effects of the war would be more visible, but relatively few houses have been hit by bombs this distance from the front. The most apparent scars are windows replaced with plywood, trenches, and tank barriers.

We stayed overnight with a man to whom we delivered batteries. He and his comrades dismantle various batteries, such as those from power drills, and repurpose them into batteries for drones, which they then give to the military. He lives near Sloviansk, an area that was taken over by separatists in 2014 before Ukraine reclaimed it a few months later.

In the morning, we unloaded a ton of hand sanitizer for a woman who then distributes it to the military. While we were there, a bomb struck about a kilometer away. A little later, we were in another church when another bomb hit. This time, we could slightly feel the windows vibrate. As we sat documenting our work, the pastor suddenly paused for a moment and then told us that his friend had been confirmed dead in the first bombing we had heard.

The pastor was scarred by the war. He said he was bitter about what had been inflicted upon them but did not hate the Russians. He saw Russia as an imperialist empire with many different parts, where the only unifying force is military power. He said that as a believer, he was certain that this is the world coming to its end and that he was focused on preparing for his journey to heaven.

On the way home, we passed the checkpoints again. After showing our empty cargo space, I sat on the truck's loading ramp, enjoying the beautiful sunshine while the soldier interviewed me about where we had been, what we had done, who we had met, etc. Some questions were difficult for me to answer, and I offered to retrieve the documents, but that was not necessary. He noted the answers I could provide on his phone and carefully asked if he could take photos of our passports. It was a strange experience that the man with a machine gun across his chest acted as if I was the one holding all the power.

On Monday, a truck arrived from Sweden, which took a few hours to unload. There were clothes, toys, stoves, medical supplies, hand sanitizer, adult diapers, and much more. Hand sanitizer is used in the trenches as fuel for light and warmth. It is evident that women buy far more clothes than men, as significantly more women’s clothing is donated compared to men's. However, we had to take a short break when TV4 conducted a video interview with Bernard, one of the supervisors down here. Once everything was unloaded, we brought forward one of our trucks and loaded it full of supplies destined for Zaporizhzhia. Two others and I ended the day by starting a drive westward.

On Tuesday morning, we reached a city south of Kyiv. There, we received two trucks carrying fishing nets, which were unloaded and handed over to the military. The fishing nets are used for protection against drones.

Today, the truck was packed again, along with a smaller truck. Before the trucks were sent off, we recorded short videos where we explained where we were going and what the truck was loaded with. This is important for generating publicity, which in turn can lead to donations. Mats and I drove the smaller truck eastward to Kramatorsk, where in the evening we reached a church where part of the load was unloaded. The church supervisor kept asking, "Is this also for us?" and eventually became teary-eyed over everything we unloaded. He told us about the internally displaced people who had fled to Kramatorsk from cities further east and whom they were now helping.

I am here assisting Operation Change, a Swedish organization that started with just a few passionate individuals and has since grown to around 120 volunteers. Much of the work is done in Sweden, collecting, packing, and shipping supplies. The efficiency of Operation Change is impressive. Initially, I thought we would be delivering supplies directly to villages, hospitals, orphanages, etc. While this was common in the beginning, they have since built many contacts and now mostly deliver larger loads to individuals who then handle further distribution. Bernard and Jennifer are the "managers" on site, and I am deeply impressed by how they keep track of everything in the warehouse, instruct us on what needs to be done each day, and coordinate with the Ukrainians on what they want delivered in three days. Everything must also be documented. The Ukrainian customs office registers all incoming supplies. Operation Change then has to report where the materials go. That’s why we carry paperwork for each recipient that must be stamped and signed. It is a time-consuming process, but it prevents corruption, and Operation Change has a strict rule that everything must be traceable. Additionally, we take photos of the recipients along with the supplies they receive.

The journey began yesterday with a flight to Rzeszow via Warsaw. Already in Rzeszow, the war made its presence felt, as this is the airport that receives a lot of military equipment destined for Ukraine. Around the airport, anti-aircraft defenses are deployed, and trenches have been built.

Time was a bit tight, so I took a taxi to Przemysl, where I met my fellow volunteer. The station in Przemysl is divided into two parts. One side faces west and has the Western track gauge. The other side faces east and has the broader Eastern track gauge, and to get there, one must pass through passport control.

We settled into sleeper cabins with four beds and got to know a father and his two 15-year-old twin sons. Denis was very happy to speak English. They are Ukrainians but had already been living in Poland before the war. The father and one of the sons happened to be in Ukraine when the war broke out, and instead of being able to board a plane, the father had to drive his son to the border. He himself stayed behind.

The things the father told us were horrific and emotional, and tears came often. In the beginning, they barely had any weapons and were sometimes only armed with knives. One of his worst experiences was helping evacuate children from Mariupol—children who, despite starving, were so traumatized that they didn’t react when given a piece of bread to eat.

He spoke about when he was a sniper and ended up in a situation with Russians both in front and behind him. Wounded, he had to crawl back to safety. After six months of service, he was injured and had to leave the army. Paradoxically, it was a fellow Ukrainian who injured him. They were working on a trench when a soldier fell and landed on his leg so badly that he can no longer serve. The fortunate thing for him is that he still has all his limbs and is relatively mobile. However, the psychological scars are far greater and torment him day and night. Now, they were on their way to Zaporizhzhia, where his mother had been hospitalized.

After a night on the train, we arrived in Dnipro around lunchtime, where we were picked up by the two Swedes who have been here almost permanently since the full-scale invasion began. Within an hour, we were sent on our first task: dropping off a truck at the repair shop and picking up the one that had been fixed.

Otherwise, today has mostly been about information and training. GPS must be turned off when we are at the warehouse, accommodations, or recipients. Vehicles must be parked optimally for evacuation. Photos must not be taken in a way that reveals our location or where we are delivering aid. Yes, there is a lot to learn. Tomorrow, there will be more training and work at the warehouse in preparation for an incoming truck with supplies from Sweden.

For those who don’t know, my employer and I reached an agreement in December that I am "released from work due to lack of work" and will receive a salary for X months before leaving the company. It’s a solution I’m very satisfied with, and I’ve had no trouble keeping myself busy. In fact, this last week has even been quite stressful. Today, I produced 530 promotional mailings for Elena’s company, EKG-expert, under the shining February sun.

My mother’s cousin, Dag, had a lot of Super 8 films that his father, Valfrid, had filmed during the 60s, 70s, and 80s. This fall, we had them digitized, and today we held a screening for the family. Elena prepared the food, with a common theme of Ukraine. She cooked some dishes herself, while Ukrainian refugees provided the rest. Dag planned which films we would watch and acted as a commentator. I took care of the technical setup.

There were 31 of us who got to enjoy rolling wheat fields, tractors, garage relocations, but also girls in miniskirts, weddings, and the family's biggest bow tie. Even though we spent the entire afternoon on this, there are still a few hours of film left to watch, and I realize that I want to watch all of them together with Dag, as his storytelling about what we see on screen is at least half the fun. And today’s screening made it even better, as so many others could contribute their own insights.