Village party, VŠstanvik, Sweden. Chris Maluszynski. June 2012.

Last night me and Eivind took our bikes from Leksand to the small village Västanvik, 5km outside town. Leksand in itself looks like something a tourist board could only dream about. The winding road took us through blooming fields, along mirror-like lakes into yet another level of reality – or what it more seemed like – unreality.

The little village looks more like an illustration from an Astrid Lindgren children’s book than anything you could imagine being real. Kids and adults were playing games and dancing together in the street, the bakery was handing out pizzas and the local old-timers were repelling mosquitos with homebrew under a tree. I kept waiting for this dreamland theme park to close down, but it never happened. Instead – a band with some of Sweden’s jazz elite started playing in the old wooden firestation and the dance began.

The guys under the tree kept repelling mosquitos until the night sky started turning into morning, when they made a bold decision: in the brother’s kitchen there were fewer mosquitos and possibly some whisky. Unfortunately the brother was asleep and not too keen on the smell of “mosquito repellent” in his kitchen, so they went back out into to the morning light looking for another safehaven.

And still no one was closing down dreamland.