Orebreo (UREreeBRER)

Swedish place names are mindbogglingly tricky to pronounce. You ask someone to teach you, at the fifth attempt you manage a rough approximation of what they said, then two minutes later it's gone. You need to reverse the intonation that comes naturally to you as a native English speaker, channel the Muppets' Swedish Chef', then flatten all the vowels as if you were born in Dewsbury. It's exhausting.

Right now it is tipping down. We are parked on a free place on the outskirts of 'UREreeBRER'. Free is good. The parking is a few metres from the navigable Svårtan Närke and set in swampy mixed woodland. The temperature today is a full 10° warmer than yesterday, it means the rain is warmer but Sweden's infamous mosquitos have decided it's party time. One benefit of the recent chilly spell is it has been bug free.

We took a short walk down to the river during a lull in the rain and decided that a visit to the town centre could wait till tomorrow morning. What is the point of getting wet?

We woke to rain, but the sky was brighter and by 10ish had cleared. The centre of town was about a twenty minute walk along the riverside path. Before you reach it you pass through Wadköping, a collection of wooden traditional houses small shops and industrial buildings moved to a small park by the river from the town centre and nearby villages.

 

Swedes seem quite keen on these open air museums, partly I suspect because it's much easier to dismantle and re-erect a wooden building than a stone one.

Orebreo most famous monument is it's large moated castle on the edge of the modern town centre. It is impressive, but largely rebuilt in the early 20th century to become the regional governors residence. The white stucco was stripped off, roofs and attic windows added to the towers and the the thing generally adapted to resemble a picture book version of what a castle should be.

As for the town centre it's pleasant rather than especially attractive. It was around noon on a Sunday and the place was only just coming to life. One thing that felt familiar - it had just as many second rate fast food joints than a British high street, fewer charity shops however.

The town used to be a textile manufacturing centre but in recent years is more famous for its university. Lots of young people out and about in lycra, running, jogging or walking very briskly. It looked like a pleasant place to live.

Sunday awoke as we walked back. The road that had been empty this earlier was now lined with parked cars. Some belonged to the allotment owners busy tending plots, or perhaps relaxing in the 'mini-chalets - an upscale version of our humble shed; most had lace curtains at the windows  and a small deck with patio furniture and a gas BBQ. Vegetable growing was not the only Sunday activity on show, the riverbank was lined with fishermen, each occupying a designated fishing spot at regular intervals along the path.

We had lunch back at the van, then set off for a small spot in the middle of the countryside. 'Destination on unmade road,' the sat-nav announced. We were heading to visit Maria and Svenerik, a Swedish couple we met in Isla Cristina in Spain. 'You must visit us in Sweden,' they said. So we are!