Almost 25 years ago my dear hubby and I (young, in love (which we still are) and not married yet) went on a holiday trip.
We took Olaf, our sweet little Jack Russell terrier to the vet, where he could play and have fun with his friends, the vet’s dogs. It was good to know he was at ease there, so we could go on holiday. He was our little baby, you know.
We packed our old Volvo station car and set course from the Netherlands to Scandinavia.
It was cozy in the car, with sometimes loud music on (and of course we had to sing along), snacks and the road map on my lap. GPS didn’t exist for us, just yet. But I loved to follow along on the old taped map with circles round every little city and village we had been before. Lunch, gasoline and breaks were always taken at the same Service Area along the road. And we still see the same ladies working behind the counter.
We took a roundtrip across Eastern Norway and visited some interesting places.
I remember we drove by a wooden carved sign saying “Husfliden”.
It was a little road up into the mountains to an upgraded shed. Behind it was a little lake. The water was so clear and ripple free, you could see the reflection of the mountains in it. It was a challenge to discover the dividing line between landscape and reflection. So beautiful!
The little shed was a cute shop which was fully packed with handmade items of all sorts.
We saw a middle aged lady coming from the main house to the shop. It was obvious she was baking, with the flower hanging off her chin and her hair loosely in a messy bun. The sleeves of her blouse were rolled up and she was drying off her washed hands on her apron. She welcomed us with much enthusiasm and told us, “Velkommen, jeg heter Maria”. And when we said we didn’t understand Norwegian, it was no problem at all for her to speak English. We said we were visiting Norway as tourists and were curious what “Husfliden” was exactly. Here face lit when she started to tell.
In winter when there is little to no activity in the evenings, the people around the village were creative in all sorts of things.
Sweaters were knit by the fire, wood was carved in outhouses and little pieces of furniture were painted.
Of course there was always more than these creative people could have use for themselves. That’s why Leif, Maria’s husband, remodeled this little shed to be a shop. Maria collected every item people had made during the cold days of winter. She filled her shop with these beautiful one of a kind items which were displayed in every corner and on every shelf.
This little key cabinet caught my eye.
It was in dep red with a painted wreath on it. I noticed that the word for “keys” was not in Norwegian, but in Swedish. Maria told us that the old chap, who painted this little cabinet, was Swedish from origin. That’s why it said “Nycklar” instead of “Nøkler”. I loved the story and decided I wanted it. It would be perfect in our home.
Even after all these years, with us now living in Norway, we still have and use the Swedish-Norwegian key cabinet.
All our keys in one place and, with everyone having his/her own key fab, it’s so easy to grab your keys and be out the door.
Do you have a special holiday souvenir you still use? And how do you organize your keys? Just leave me a comment below, would you?
I would love to hear from you.