Train of thought
I can’t believe I haven’t blogged since last year! Jokes aside, I hope you all had a lovely New Years. I sure did, I got to eat, laugh and dance with some of my favorite people in a town I’d never been before. I love discovering new places!
I would like to share something I wrote on the train back to Jönköping a couple of days ago. Any and all feedback is much appreciated so don't hesitate to comment after you've read!

I enjoy travelling, feeling like I’m on my way.
I’ve made a few trips in my life, some quite long ones and many many short. On some of them I’ve been sick, on some I’ve been tired, and some trips I didn’t even want to go on. But for the most part I have chosen my destination, and getting there has been a smooth ride. I’ve known that after the flight, train ride, drive or walk is over, I’ll find something that is worth the effort - be it family, a friend, a lover or a sight I’ve longed to see.
I have two bags with me now. It’s not even a fraction of what I own, but it’s a big duff bag with colorful stripes and a small black backpack, Kånken model (Swedish classic, look it up). My bags are pretty heavy, they’re filled with my favorite stuff and I’d be devestated if I lost any of it. The journey to Jönköping is just over 4 hours long, including a one-hour waiting session to change from the bus to the train.
Just like me, but not at all. They are on such a long journey, across oceans and over mountains. They are sick and tired, they don’t even want to go, but they have no choice. By boat, by raft, by foot or truck… Nowhere near as comfortable as I am right now, with my laptop and heat and sufficient lighting and everything. 4 hours is nothing compared to several months...
I’ll be getting off at my destination in 15 minutes. Some of them won’t. For some of the refugees, the long and tiring journey will end at a train station in Sweden. They will be sent back because they don’t have proper ID’s.
This is not an attempt to make a political statement about the newly inforced border controls. I don’t know what to think of them. I don’t know how many people have come here during the “refugee crisis”. I don’t know about the state of our finances. I don’t know if it’s true that we can’t afford to help these people. I don’t know a better solution, I just don’t like this one. I don’t like the thought that my country is slamming the door, putting up fences and sending back people in need. I’m embarrassed. All I can think of is the tired people on the run, holding on to whatever little hope they have. All I can think of is the dangers they’ve faced to get this far. The relief they must have felt after making it all the way to Europe, only to be sent back and told that they are not welcome.