The storm had intensified, and the speakers at the
pier announced the cancellation of the 4:00 PM ferry. This last Sunday evening
departure usually took weekend visitors back to their homes. The return trip
from Sandhamn, the farthest of the archipelago islands, to Stockholm typically
took two and a half hours, during which the regular passengers—familiar with
one another by now—would chat along the way.
Despite the sudden worsening of the weather, about
seventy passengers were gathered at the pier that evening. After listening
attentively to the announcement in both Swedish and English, the crowd stirred.
As the congestion began to thin, the summer residents were the first to leave.
Chatting with their neighbors as they returned home, some sent messages from
their phones, informing their workplaces they would work from home the next
day. They appeared content to extend their weekend.
Meanwhile, tourists sought information from the
locals, and upon learning they were stranded on the island due to the
cancellation, they leisurely waited to see what others would do. Most
passengers reacted with Scandinavian calm, quietly criticizing the ferry
company or speculating that their travel insurance might cover the hotel costs.
Among the crowd was a group of seventeen people who
had celebrated their 25th graduation anniversary in Sandhamn. They hoped to
recreate the legendary gatherings of their high school years at Henrik's family
home on the island. After a five-hour "celebration marathon," they
were ready to head back home.
Years ago, the same house had hosted these gatherings.
Back then, sausages were grilled on the veranda, beers were popped open, and
conversations lasted until morning. High school romances occasionally
blossomed, and they slept on couches or in sleeping bags on the veranda, diving
into the icy sea at dawn. But this time was different. Now over forty, the
years had created distances between them. Throughout the day, they had lingered
around Henrik's carefully prepared table or barbecue, catching up on each other's
lives with questions like, "What are you up to these days?" and
"Are you married?" They subtly competed to determine who was more
successful, who had aged more, and where life had taken them.
Now, stranded at the pier, they looked uneasy. The
group grew tense. Those closer to Henrik hurried off as if unwilling to give up
their spot, heading toward his house. The remaining ones either didn’t want to
impose or hadn’t acted quickly enough. Some had simply grown too distant from
their youth to consider sleeping on couches, preferring to stay at a hotel and
head to work once the ferries resumed.
Among the travelers were three women from out of town
who had missed their connecting trains. They expressed their frustration by
saying they had always considered Sandhamn an impractical choice from the
beginning.
Helene, a lone resident of the island, lingered at the
pier, reluctant to return home after storming out during a quarrel with her
spouse. She had come to the harbor intending to spend the night at a friend’s
place in the city center. Her disappointment at not reaching the city was
palpable, and she lingered, unwilling to go home.
Those in a hurry considered hiring a water taxi to
reach Stavsnäs and continue to Stockholm by road. However, they soon learned
via phone that water taxis, too, were unable to operate in such weather.
Half an hour after the announcement, only nineteen
people remained stranded at the island’s sole pier. Among them were eleven
members of the graduation group, Helene, a German tourist flirting with her in
German, an elderly tourist couple from Geneva named Charles and Celine, their
daughter who lived in Stockholm with her Swedish husband, and a young couple in
their twenties, entirely absorbed in kissing, oblivious to their surroundings.
In this extraordinary warm September evening, they sat
on benches in the waiting room, its three sides enclosed by glass, watching the
torrential rain. Unhurriedly, they struck up conversations, forming an unusual
camaraderie over their shared predicament.
The crashing waves against the pier, the occasional
lightning from the eastern storm clouds, and the sun piercing through the
clouds behind the island to bathe the sky in crimson created a romantic
atmosphere. Watching the scene, they deepened their conversation, touching on
topics like the new weather patterns caused by climate change, their weekend on
the island, and the red hues of the sun defiantly breaking through the storm
clouds. The discussion naturally drifted to politics, the indifference of leaders
to climate issues, the rain's impact on Europe's wine harvest, and finally, to
wine and the beauty of the sunset.
The sunset was indeed stunning—a dramatic
juxtaposition of dark clouds and crashing waves on one side, and a radiant
patch of red at the precise point where the sun was setting.
Retired physics professor Charles, behind his
black-framed glasses with his hazel eyes moving, eagerly dove into the wine
conversation, starting with "Allors..." In his strong French-accented
English, he continued, "Why don't we head to the -merveilleuse- hotel bar
behind us? A retired man like me can't spend his money on anything better.
First round is on me!" While North Europeans rarely decline an alcohol
offer, they followed Charles with slight objections like, "Are you sure?
We’re too many!" due to a genetic shyness.
Charles's wife, Celine, gazed at her husband's
cheerful demeanor with love and admiration. A former ballet instructor, Celine
nodded in approval, her shiny brown eyes under her dark bun, adjusted her
shawl, and elegantly entered the redwood Seglar hotel's bar on her husband's
arm, like a butterfly. Their initiative, as the oldest in the group, set the
others in motion. Despite the pouring rain, they dashed under shared umbrellas,
laughing, and filled the bar immediately behind the dock.
As the wind still howled outside, the warmth inside
was a contrast. The hotel staff seemed unprepared for the sudden crowd, but
soon, three bottles of Primitivo arrived at the table. Charles raised his
glass, saying, "To new friendships!" The graduation group repeated,
"To old friendships!" They laughed, but a cracked voice saying,
"What a friendship, huh?" sharply interrupted the laughter. Under
Charles’s surprised gaze, Anna continued grumbling.
"When I said Sandhamn was a ridiculous idea, no
one listened. Here we are. The ferry's canceled, the train’s gone. Great
planning!" Erika, sitting next to her, sighed. "Why Sunday, not
Saturday?" Isabelle added, "Anna, we all said that, but Henrik's
group 'overpowered us.'"
Meanwhile, Martin, coming from the lobby, joined in.
"Who’s this Henrik group, girls? I don’t know. You tell me." Martin’s
unnecessary loud remarks sparked a conversation that spread to the other
tables. Minor disagreements from high school, fueled by accumulated years,
turned into a bigger quarrel. Everyone was talking at once. A family, disturbed
by the noise, grumbled, "What’s this noise! People should show some
respect!" Isabelle turned, grinning, and scolded the woman, "We’re on
vacation, relax a little."
Laura, trying to calm the situation, joined the
discussion, "What’s done is done. We’re here now, and we’ll wait for
morning. Look, I came all the way from Switzerland and I’m not
complaining," and added with a somewhat smug tone in Anna's ear,
"Sometimes life overturns our plans, but in these moments, it’s best to
focus on the opportunities the new situation offers, not the disrupted plan.
Unforgettable memories are born from these imperfect plans. I raise my glass to
broken plans!" She clinked glasses with a few people who joined her. Anna,
increasingly irritated by the "all the way from Switzerland" emphasis
and the following spiritual nonsense, sarcastically replied, "But I’m not
from Switzerland, madam," and added in a hoarse voice, "That’s why I
won’t carelessly pay for the hotel like you."
Charles, trying to smooth things over with a laugh,
said, "No, none of us are that rich; it's just an urban legend," and
laughed uneasily, adding, "And it’s late," before excusing himself.
Charles managed to stop the argument. The storm
outside had also calmed. It turned out that Helene was Henrik’s neighbor, and
later that night, she decided to head home. On her way out, she took Anna and
Erika with her, both of whom had no money to pay the hotel, as an excuse to her
guests and husband.
Later in the evening, Martin, having pushed the lobby
sofas together, declared a "new high school party" in the hotel
corridor. They began sharing wine bottles and confessing secrets of their old
high school crushes. The atmosphere Henrik had failed to create at the summer
house was starting to form here.
The next morning, those who woke up at the hotel at
seven saw that the previously angry sea now gently licked the dock like a
docile cat under the sun, and with a peaceful calm, they sipped their coffee.
Most of the passengers who had disappeared the day before for the 8:00 ferry
had returned, along with a few new ones. The ferry at the crowded dock was
greeted with a weary enthusiasm as if it was welcoming a beloved after a long
journey, and the two-and-a-half-hour ride passed in the blink of an eye. When the
passengers arrived in Stockholm, they hugged each other sincerely, bidding
farewell with wishes to meet again. None of them would ever forget Sandhamn.
