One of the most surreal experiences of my life was finding our long-lost family in a small, rural town in Sweden. In Hovmantorp, Sweden, a town you probably have never heard of, I had the most personal and meaningful travel experience of my life. It was all a long shot- making it to the small town, finding the location of the farm, finding someone who was actually related to me, and making our train connections to Copenhagen, Denmark.
When my friends and I were planning our spring break trip to Scandinavia, where my ancestors are from, I asked my Dad about the areas where our family is originally from. My Dad went on a school trip to Europe in high school. He extended his trip to visit the family farm in Hovmantorp and other relatives who lived in Stockholm. My dad had pictures and memories of the farm, but had no idea where it was actually located. My Grandma used to send Christmas cards to cousins who lived in Stockholm, but a few years ago, the card got returned to the sender with no explanation. We had an idea of where our family had come from and had presumably, where some people still lived, but had lost all contact.
My Dad helped me research how to get into this little farm town. My group of friends had discussed taking the train from Stockholm to Copenhagen. We were looking forward to seeing the countryside and the smaller towns along the way. We decided to use Swedish Railways for the trips since we had to transfer trains and risked getting stranded in one of the small towns. We used the low fare comparison to choose the cheapest trips from Stockholm to Alvesta to Hovmantorp. (Side note, if you’ve never used the price comparison charts, they are the best way to figure out the most affordable time to travel by date and time). Our trip included a 3 hour layover in Hovmantorp until we had to take the return trip to Alvesta and finally to our final destination of Copenhagen, Denmark. I was a bit nervous about the planning. This was a special side trip for my benefit and if we got stranded or spent a bunch of extra money, I would feel terrible.
We left Stockholm in the morning after checking out of our Air b n b. We had to run through the train station to make our train on time, but we successful made it. A few hours into the trip we had to switch trains and wait a bit in Alvesta. We made it on to the train to Hovmantorp. I started to feel a bit better about the plan and stared out the window. With every passing mile, we were getting closer to where my family was from and lived. I tried to soak in every detail to share with my family and in an effort to gain an understanding of where my ancestors lived.
When we arrived at the train station, we screamed tourists in a small town that was not used to the attention. People who drove past us watched as we looked like turtles with our backpack suitcases and snack bags. My dad remembered that the church where my great-great-grandpa was baptized and where some other family members were buried was only a little down the road from the train station. We wandered into the church grounds/graveyard. There was no one around. I was worried that the church was closed, but the door was unlocked and we entered. I was standing where my Grandma's Bompa (grandfather) attended church as a child and was baptized as a baby. Alex Johansson was the first of my line to immigrate to the United States. He was one of five brothers and only his oldest brother, Karl Uno Johansson, remained in Sweden to take care of the family farm. Karl and my great-grandma LaVerne's grandfather, Johan Carlsson, were buried in this church cemetery. On a whim, I had sent an email to the church while we were still in Stockholm to see if anyone had information about my family. My friends and I headed back outside to hunt for the gravesites of my family members. With the old patronymic naming system in Scandinavia, we passed by many graves with similar last names of people who were not even related. All of a sudden, I heard one of my friends say "Michelle is over there." She had been approached by two Swedish ladies who had received my email to the church! They were related to the historical aspect of the gravesite and helped me find the 2 graves that I was looking to find! I was ecstatic and a bit overwhelmed.
The ladies kept walking and showed me a gravesite for an Axel Johansson that had passed away in 1994. I tried to explain that while this was the name of my great-great-grandfather, he had immigrated to the United States. Besides, 1994 seemed too recent. However, the lady noted that whoever owned this grave, owned the land for the other two gravesites that I knew were my ancestors. She handed me a piece of paper with a map. She explained that the people who owned these gravesites also owned a small farm down the road. I thanked the ladies and turned back to my friends. I wanted to take in the experience of finding the gravesites a bit longer. I did not think that we would head to a stranger's property to see if we could find anything else.
We still had about 2 hours until our train left and were only a few minutes walk away from the train station. My friend, Sarah, had international data on her phone and said that Google Maps showed the farm only a mile or so up the road. I was curious but I did not think that my friends would want to go. We were tired, had all our bags, and my friend hurt her ankle on day 1 of the trip. My friends said the decision was up to me. I knew I had to go for my own curiosity, but also for my family's sake.
We hiked up our bags, left the cemetery, and headed down the road. We were back to getting strange looks as people tried to figure out how these tourists got lost in their small town. I tried to pay attention to the houses we passed, what they looked like, what my family might see if they left from this farm that may or may not be theirs. Suddenly, the sidewalk ended and we were walking on the side of the road itself. But we were not fair away. Our turn should be a bit up this road, so we continued on. We turned down a road and passed by a house, then by a field of cut-down trees. Then, I could see a red barn and a yellow house a little in the distance. "Sarah, is that where the house is supposed to be?" I could not believe my eyes and was unsure if it was true. The house in front of us looked like the pictures my dad had taken years ago. There was no guarantee that anyone related to me still owned the property. Any family that we knew about, we could only assume had passed away in Stockholm.
As we approached the property, I started taking pictures. This sure looked like the farm that I had been shown pictures of and I needed something to show my family. A blue car pulled in around the other side of the house. I froze. My friends looked at me expectantly. "Now would be a great time to say something, Michelle." I took a deep breath and headed toward the car.
An older lady got out and a young, blonde child ran past her into the house. "Hey...hi..." Okay I needed to say something good quick...Technically, we were probably trespassing in another country. "Hi...I'm from the United States...I think my family might have lived here. Axel Johansson..." She replied that she did not have any family that went to the United States. My heart sunk as I thought that I was in the wrong place and had been excited for no reason. I tried again. "Karl Uno Johansson..." She hugged me and started walking into the house...Well I had something right by mentioning my great-great-grandpa's brother. I was not about to enter a total stranger's house in a foreign country by myself. I quickly motioned for my friends, who were still standing at the end of the property, to follow me. "These are my friends who are traveling with me," I blurted out as I headed up the stairs.
I stepped inside. This could be it. THE family farm in Sweden. About all I knew before I taking this was that my ancestors were farmers in Sweden and that my various ancestors had immigrated from the Scandinavian countries years ago. I had recently reviewed some of the family names in preparation, but that was mostly to find the graves.
Lena took me over to a wall of family photos. She explained that her husband, Anders, was the descent of Karl and that Karl's brothers had immigrated to the U.S. There on the back of a photo it said Axel...United States. That was him. That was my family. This was my family standing right in front of me. In a blur, she gave me a tour of the house while I talked about how excited my Grandma would be that we were regaining contact with our family!
We shared contact information and took a photo. She lamented that her husband was not home to meet me. How implausible was it that I would show up in their kitchen from across the world with limited information to even know where to go in this small town? I wish we could have stayed longer, but we had to make our train. We still had to walk back to the train station. If we missed this train, I really did not know how we would make it to Copenhagen or at what time. I hugged Lena good-bye and reversed the walk. I was ecstatic. I was in shock. Our crazy, random trip to Hovmantorp was more than my wildest dreams. My friends and I all thought that we would be sitting in that church graveyard for most of our visit just so that I could say that I had been where my family is from originally. Instead, I saw the graves and personally met my long-lost family. Humbled and still in utter shock, I embarked our train back to Alvesta before we transferred to our final destination of the trip, Copenhagen. This was a different level of travel that I had not experienced yet. To have such a personally impactful experience that related to my family and was for all my family back at home. I had stood where my ancestors did quite literally. Follow your heart, you never know what you might find.