The thing I love most about Californian history, is how quickly it became a state, full of glistening cities and people everywhere. In 1849 when some lucky miner found gold, everyone ran to Cali, hoping for similar luck, bringing with them hope, strength, and determination. Despite the tough weather conditions at times, the miners were determined, and when many of them failed in their conquest, they abandoned the towns that were only called home for a short time. Now these mining towns are unihabited, and slightly haunting, with only the memories remaining.
When we arrived in Kiruna, the story was similar: a mining town, created only at the beginning of the 20th century, once the mining was deemed feasible. However, with such harsh conditions, it’s impressive all the same how those determined miners decided to establish themselves in Sweden’s northernmost city. Of course when compared with the Sami people who had been living there for 6000 years, I suppose it’s not as amazing.
The city itself, however, is not abandoned. Although small, it is rather cheery in those dreary rainy days, with adorable little shops, and a delicious cafe. We were surprised when we went out on a Saturday night, and the “city” was buzzing with life, all of the bars filled to the max with locals catching up with a beer or drink. It was surprising to see so much life, so many concerts and bars for such a seemingly small mining town. However that was Saturday. The next day, when we awoke, we saw the other side to Kiruna. In desperate search of a late breakfast, we came across the supermarket, the only open source of food on that desolate Sunday. The streets seemed vacant, as the bars cleaned up the rest of the festivities from the night before. And all was silent, as if it were a ghost town, silently waiting for Saturday to arrive once more.
