Cabin fever.

I wish it were possible to explain the feeling of being on the water in Sweden. It isn't. But I will do my best.

First of all, Swedes have very loose standards of what it means to be an "island." Many are no more than oversized boulders, poking their heads out of the sea, cluttered by birch trees and a handful of cabins. These cabins themselves are a national treasure. There are more or less only two different possible paint colors: either a rusty red or a sort of butter yellow. Picturesque as gingerbread houses with their white trim and shingled roofs, they look to hold no more than half a bedroom each. Beside each of these sommarstugas - or, at the very least, on each island - is a Swedish flag. Somehow the humble blue and yellow seems less obnoxious than "patriotism" in the States. The feeling of driving between all of these islands - what feels like thousands of them - is indescribable. I wish there were an extra-wide angle lens on my camera, but even that wouldn't capture the ultimate bliss I feel, sitting on the stern with the sun on my back as we glide (albeit at a snail's pace and with the faint smell of diesel in the background) through the water without a care in the world.

[Cue montage of cabin photos:]

[even this could be considered an island]

Of course, this is a slight exaggeration. There are certainly "mega-cabins," especially closer in to Stockholm, and there is the occasional blue house interspersed between the red and yellow. Yet I so admire the "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" mentality of the Swedes. Why mess with perfection? There is a verb in Swedish, räcker, which means literally to be sufficient. Such a word does not exist in English because such a concept does not exist in our culture. Is enough ever enough? Isn't bigger always better? The Swedes don't seem to think so.

Today we went on the boat and rode all the way into Gamlastan (the "old town" island of Stockholm). It took about 2.5 hours each way, but we couldn't be bothered to go any faster. We had time. [Another vocabulary lesson: orkar means "to be bothered to" in not so many words, hinner means "to have time." Such an efficient language.] We stopped halfway there to have lunch, where I had a fantastic shrimp salad. Then we braved the big waves made by the wakes of the giant tour boats to go into the city. Except that we didn't leave the water. We just rode around in the 25º C (77º F) weather, looked up at the bustling city, and turned around. There'll be time for that another day.

Dinner tonight was the same as it has been for three nights in a row now: cheese platter and wine. Nothing wrong with that. Followed by ice cream, of course. This may not be good for my waistline. But at least I'll be tan.