Islamic Lapland
Muslims are colonizing Northern Europe
Surely good willed yet somewhat thoughtlessly, Arctic Alaska's employee recommends me to take an alternative road to Umea, very pretty, via Vihelmina, since there are construction works along the Bla Vagen route (Blue Way). According to my maps, though, that is a dirt road; but my informer claims it is mostly paved except for some short stretches. Thus, relying on his knowledge and good criteria, I take his advice. For the first few kilometres it is indeed paved, but shortly afterwards the gravel beings and, after a while, when watching from atop the higher stretches, I can't see where the asphalt begins again. Now, I don't know what he meant by short stretch, but it is now raining and I don't feel like ending up covered in mud; so I turn back and retake the Bla Vagen, hoping for the best. At the first petrol station I inquire, I am told that the works begin much farther, past the fork to Sorsele, which means I can head that town and then take highway 363 to Umea, thus bypassing the bad stretch. Good information, unlike the guy's at Arctic Alaska.
Too often, I'm afraid, we give advice without thinking that what works for us doesn't necessarily work for others, and that people don't always like the same we like. In effect, taking the Sorsele way I have managed to avoid the constructions, but not the boredom: if yesterday's route was unappealing, today's is long and utterly annoying: miles and miles of bendless road cutting through a monotonous forest landscape, going past barely a couple of villages without the smallest interest. Perhaps the only thing worth mentioning, yet not really surprising, is that on this part of Sweden the fresh waters are turf-tinged as in Finland, probably because both lands belong to the same continental shelf, and share a common geological substratum.
By the time I begin looking for accommodation, and since my gadgets can't find any lodging on road 363, I opt for catching back the Bla Vagen in Lycksele. Almost 230 km today. How far behind now those short stages at the beginning of this Journey to Nowhere seem! I must be getting tired of wandering around, since I’ve realized that little by little, subconsciously, I've been increasing the daily mileage: from 80 along Spain and France to 100 in Central Europe, then 150 around the Baltic Estates and Finland, and lately I'm driving over 200 km.
Lycksele is a regular sized town —considering its latitude— and, likely, this region's shopping capital, not too different from many Finnish towns as to architecture, street layout and housing style (maybe because for decades Finland has been under the Swedish rule?) After some search, on a by-street in the centre I find a hotel called Park that suits me for the night: 650 Crowns a single room. The man at reception, a Pakistani-looking dude, checks me in quite listlessly. Same as in Norway, I'm surprised by the amount of immigrants I see everywhere, mostly Muslims. Some 20% or so of the people I come across are from the swarthlands; most of them quite young, by the way. For instance, as I'm taking these notes, a van full of slum-looking blacks, six or seven of them, has just stopped by me. Later on, along my walk, I come across two tuned cars driven by blacks. Quite a counter-colonization. Is the West expiating its guilt complex?
Geographically, though, I'm still in Lapland, as some places' names evidence: Pizzeria Laponia, Lapland Hotel, etc. By the way, I am not seeing any restaurant serving Swedish food (supposing such a thing exists). Almost everything is pizza-kebab bistros or some Chinese and Japanese. Most of the food businesses are Asian, given that the pasta or pizza places have been monopolized by the Turks. Finally I find a restaurant that, from the outside, looks like something local; but upon entering I'm welcomed by three brown smiles: cashier, cook and waiter, they're all from Middle East. Gee! I'd really like to taste something Swedish. Is it that difficult? I will be extremely pleased to try Asian food when I go to Asia, but nowhere else. So, I keep trying, but only to give up in the end and surrender to stubborn reality: no Swedish cuisine whatsoever in Lycksele. At last I pick a random restaurant, run by four moors that drag me in with plenty of flattery and one dozen questions about my country —as if they cared at all— in the most genuine Marrakech tradition. Defeated beforehand, I submit myself to their ritual ways, then ask for the menu. Fortunately, among the boring international dishes, I spot and order a fish dish. I must admit it comes well cooked and served, including garnish and a side salad.
And that's all for today. Only a last, curious note about this town: about one in four shops is a hairdresser's, which I've counted in number of five. Once more, vanity proves to be the most regular customer, so that vanity-oriented businesses are the safest investment.