Day 3: Two Scares and an Offer

In which I get an offer from a Swedish Au Pair (retired) and I don’t become that guy in “Into the Wild”

July 4, 2023 Matfors to Stode

Today’s Stats

---

Gulps of Magical Healing Water Swallowed | 4

Number of Dog Bites Sustained | 0

Kilometers Walked | 25

Total Kilometers Walked | 40

---

Highlights

An Offer

One of my intentions for this journey is to find my way to whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing next in my life - a job, a van down by the river, something else?

Last night I stayed at the home of a former Swedish Au Pair, who had worked for a family in Woodland Hills. Now developing software, we quickly dug into what, specifically, their company does. Turns out, they are currently supporting some very old COBOL software. “COBOL”, I humbly bragged (humble bragged?) , “I was a little bit COBOL famous in my CS department in the early 80’s.” Raised eyebrows. “We had to take it as Freshman and when I was as Sophomore, I gave a stack of my COBOL printouts (can’t call them software even - they were literally reams of punch paper printouts) to a friend, who used them, then passed them to a friend, and so on and so on. By the time I was a Junior, whenever I met a younger CS major, they’d say, Are you COBOL Chris Angelli?”

The next morning, as I was leaving, Frederick said, “We need COBOL programmers. If you’re interested, get in touch.”

COBOL Chris. Has a ring to it, no?

A Scare

Also today, I stopped for lunch at a lovely spot and as I was packing up I dropped my pack’s rain cover down a ravine. I knew that if I left it there I was guaranteeing 30 straight days of rain, so I decided to retrieve it. The ravine was scrabble with a water drain emptying into it. My mantra during this endeavor was “Don’t become that guy in Into the Wild. Don’t become that guy in Into the Wild. Don’t become that guy in Into the Wild.” I found my pilgrimage mantra.

Although this was probably the more likely scenario.

Another Scare

Late in the day, two dogs charged me, fangs bared and barking, blocking the way. I stood in the street with my hands over my ears crying. A family-filled Volvo slowed to check on me. I showed them the scars from my second, most recent dog attack. Luckily scars don’t require a Swedish or English description. The Volvo set a pick for me while I walked past the property. Just like Judy did for Larry Bird at that bar in Philly.

Then I took a swim and sat on a porch.