Sweden. Week one. No electricity, no plan – but we lit a fire.

The first morning in Sweden felt somehow special. Maybe it was the air. Maybe it was the fact that after days of traffic jams, ferries, and the big question "Where exactly are we going now?" we were finally in the right place. Our van was parked behind the Old Western Store near Annelöv. A quirky spot, between cowboy decor and birch forest – for us, the first real "We're really here" feeling.

Old Western Store, Annelöv

So: fire bowl out, sausages on it. Not because it was planned that way, but because it was the easiest thing to do. And because we wanted to slowly grow into it. Into the outdoors. Into existence without plugs or plans. The first evening: flames, the smell of barbecue, two relaxed dogs – and us in the middle of it all, somewhere between adventurous spirit and tiredness. A good start.

The next day we continued toward Lidhult. The route? Forest, forest, lake, moose warning sign, forest. And suddenly: a campsite right by the water, surrounded by nature, as if reserved for us. A public fire pit right on the shore—we couldn't have chosen a better spot. Firewood was ready, and we lit the fire with string, flint, and a bit of campfire pride. No survival kitsch, just a good feeling. The dogs were constantly wet from the lake, we were happy from the view of the water—and Rita grinned as she cooked dinner over the open fire. No electricity, no stress, no frills.

Lidhult, Hängeviken

In Mullsjö, the next test: our outdoor shower. Not solar-powered, but functional. And above all: open, in the middle of nature. No neighbors, no campsite hustle and bustle, just us, the forest, and the water. Rita showered first – with a view of the greenery, shampoo in her hair, the wind on her skin. I stood protectively beside her in case a Swedish hiker came hopping out of the forest. Of course, no one came. Just silence. And the feeling: This is what real outdoor life feels like.

The week passed as if in fast-forward, yet at the same time very slowly. We woke up with the sun and slept with the last glow of the embers. Breakfast with a lake view. Coffee outside. Cooking on the fire, the occasional light shower, then another play of light between the trees. Our dogs, Mooi and Milo, explored every nook and cranny as if they'd always been there. We explored with them—just a little slower.

What did we miss? Honestly, nothing. Sure, the internet was on and off – like a Swedish "maybe tomorrow" promise. Netflix worked occasionally on the iPad, but the real programming was on outside. Our shower – whether inside with a showerhead or outside with a view – wasn't luxurious, but it was enough. We were clean, fed, and satisfied. And that's what counts.

This first week wasn't a dress rehearsal. It was the introduction. The beginning of what awaited us. No electricity? No problem. No plan? All the better. We had wood, fire, dogs, coffee—and each other. That's all we needed.