Home in Sweden - 3. Digging up old connections

When I was about 12 (I think) I had a pen-pal called Anna. Actually, I had two pen-friends but the other one was from Canada. I will write about her if and when I ever move to Canada. I got to know both pen-pals through IYS - the International Youth Service. We signed up, I cannot even recall if I had to pay for it, and we got a little rectangular piece of paper with potential pen-pals on them, their names and addresses. I wrote to quite a few potentials actually. This incessant need to write which I suffer evidently begun at a very young age. Of all the potentials, only two became what I would call real pen-pals.

Anna was, of course, Swedish. If she were not, she would not feature here as part of my quest. We wrote regularly to each other for a while. We exchanged photos, sent each other coins from our respective countries and taught each other words in the language of our respective countries. She asked me if I liked Roxette. They were just becoming famous at that time and she was so proud of them. I think she had a cat. At least one of my pen-friends had a cat, and the other a dog. I am pretty sure Anna was the one with the cat. I also have a photo of the cat somewhere. The cat also used to sign off some of Anna´s letters with a paw-print. Somewhere in my stamp collection are many of the Swedish stamps which I received from Anna. That is, sadly, all I I can say about my correspondence with Anna or about Anna herself, because that is all I remember. I cannot remember anything else about her, or where she lived, or anything about her life. I don´t even know if I still have her letters. I hope I do, but I doubt it. I would very much love to read them again and relive that time.

Even though I cannot remember anything about Anna, I find myself thinking about her a lot lately. I remember her fondly and I wish we had kept in touch. I enjoyed writing to her almost as much as I enjoyed receiving her letters. But I suppose as a child or teenager (which I probably was by the time we stopped corresponding) one doesn´t know much these old connections could mean twenty years down the line. I tried looking for her on Facebook, but I suppose 300 million users is not quite everyone in the world. Perhaps she is married and now has a different last name. Who knows? In any case, I didn´t find her. I would love to get in touch with her and tell her that after all these years, I will be moving to her country.

On a completely unrelated note, about three years ago while I was a somewhat regular at the climbing gym at home (hmm... maybe that was four years ago then), I found myself standing at the counter of the gym. I had forgotten my membership card but wanted to be let in anyway. I explained to the guy at the counter that I was a member and gave him my name. He then asked me for my identity card number. Knowing me, it was probably more out of mild irritation than curiosity that I asked him why he needed it. I mean, surely he should be able to find my name in the system. He said "yeah, but there are two persons with that name". !!! I couldn´t believe it. Those who know me would know that my name is rare. The only people I know with my last name are my siblings. I even googled my name once, triggered by the fact that my boss joked about googling my name to see what I have been up to. I did not know if he was seriously going to do it, but I thought that I had better do it as well then. So even if I couldn´t stop him from finding out what he would find out, at least I would know what he found out about me. From experience, googling someone´s name usually brings hits relating to more than one person having the same name. In my case, all I found was stuff about myself. So it seemed to me that I was the only one with my name, not only within my world and the people I know, but also in the entire Google world! Imagine my surprise when the dude at the gym told me that there was another one of me. I refused to believe him at first. I was convinced it was a mistake in the system or registration and that they probably just had me on the list twice. No, no, he said. One of me was registered with an national identity card number and the other was registered with a passport. Not just any passport, a Swedish passport! That was of course less significant to me then. Actually it was significant only to confirm the Scandinavian origins of my first name. I was more excited about the fact that there was actually another person out there with my name! I was tempted to stalk the gym and wait for the other me to show up. But then, what would I say? "Hey!! You´re my name-twin"? I would think I was nuts! Aside from that I had to work and sleep and all that - all not stalking conducive factors. I walked away from the counter amused, and that was it. But now it sort of feels like I am going to the land where the ONLY OTHER PERSON IN THE WORLD with my name comes from. The first thing I am going to do when I get my hands on a Swedish telephone directory is to see if "I" am already in it!

But that is it. That is the extent of any "Swedishness" I have encountered in my life. Unless you count Ikea, which I am do not. Until now, that is.