A new day, and the sun is peeking through a bit… So we go to the little town (which was highly recommended to us to visit) and take in the lovely atmosphere – pretty little houses, feel-good atmosphere, pure relaxation.

We stop at a stylishly designed coffee shop and are not disappointed: delicious sandwiches, hearty cakes, cool sound – just made for tourists (who are happy to pay a little more).

We move on, see a playground and run to the swings, laughing at ourselves and the nonsense we are doing. It’s only then that I notice: rubber on the ground and wooden chips over it, the swings secured several times and of course without edges, bolts or anything else grim, and children playing with helmets on their heads. – The mothers are happy, chatting, happy life.

Trosa is not big, it is perfectly dressed up. And the seemingly deserted streets are littered with signs, warning signs, etiquette markings – so that even the big kids can get through life safely… From the outside, I feel like I’m in Astrid Lindgren’s Sweden; everything is picture-perfect, bright, soft colours. But in essence, anything but courageous and freedom-loving: conformist, dirigiste, restrictive.

Yes, I feel cramped, it cuts me off mentally, I feel socially sheltered at every turn. And controlled. – Have the Vikings overcome themselves here? Is this now the culmination of a long, polished social development? Are we in paradise?

ArgoFram, we’re moving on! – The weather remains fresh, but at least it’s nice enough that we can now see the islands and enjoy the ride. The fairways are sometimes very narrow, but well marked; the landscape is mild, the colours are spring-like. – At Stegeborg we enter a lovely fjord towards Mem, the entry point with the first lock into the Göta Canal. We want to sail right across Sweden to Gothenburg. It was our wish to cruise peacefully through Sweden’s lakelands so that Martina could get on the plane at Gothenburg and return to Tallinn. Easy.

At Mem we learn that the lock only opens on Monday (today is Saturday). And that you have to register at least five days in advance. But this can only be done on Monday, because no one works over the weekend. And that you are then led from lock to lock in a convoy… That it is impossible to stop or spend the night where you like. – That’s how Sweden’s state-owned companies work in the low season!

We meet other boats, robust canal boats whose owners have long since registered and are waiting dutifully. They and their loved ones are enjoying the peace and quiet; biscuits are being made in the galley, it smells wonderful from the heated interior of the ship; the grandchildren are lively and playing below deck (because outside it is starting to rain again). But we turn away, turn back, back to Stegeborg.

I am baffled. But it’s my own fault, I didn’t take care of the details of this passage. I simply drive towards it and now have to live with the fact that it won’t go on as I wanted.

In Stegeborg there is a petrol station on the water, a kiosk, an old castle (with an interesting history, which I will soon forget in detail), an airfield, some very nice and exclusive houses – and another Swiss boat, a ‘real’ yacht, which is moored here to enter the channel on Monday. We chat briefly, get valuable information (because the boatman, as a retired engineer, is very detail-conscious and has great experience in Sweden’s archipelago). But then we go to the kiosk, which is also a kind of coffee and where there is an employee who is incredibly funny and knows many even more incredible stories to tell. Meanwhile, outside, the rain pelts down as hard as it can.

After dinner, we take a warm shower and snuggle down in the blankets without making a decision (about what to do next). There is no hurry now. We are here and will see tomorrow.