Who knew the notion of an anthroposophical cul-de-sac could be taken so literally?
I imagine these are the genuine anthroposophical headquarters in Sweden. A miniature underground Goetheanum turned upside down, from where the anthroposophical movement is governed. Something positively esoteric, in every way, unknown to all but the highest echelons of the anthroposophical society. I always suspected all the fanciness of Ytterjärna, all the anthroposophy applied to building and design, was just for show anyway. No, here’s the real deal. Hidden by the asphalt of an unassuming end of a street in a high-profile area (who, except the intrepid detective, mr Dog, would ever look there?). You enter via a magic flowerpot. And from the upside-down Goetheanum leads a subterranean escape route — a mole tunnel — to the Swiss embassy down the slope. Just in case. Or perhaps if you go there and find the magic button and press it, you find yourself instantly transported to the higher worlds?
The dead-end road with extra etheric forces is a discovery that made my day. No, more than that. It has cheered me up immensely and Dog knows I needed it right now. The other week, I was asked a question about a rather wealthy anthroposophical foundation, Vidarstiftelsen. (Website.) The foundation owns several properties and also a couple of registered companies that in turn own real estate. Among the real estate owned directly by the foundation was a mysterious one in Djursholm, in addition to a couple that were not at all mysterious (they’re located in Järna and one hosts the anthroposophical Vidar Clinic).
This post is about the mysterious property in Djursholm. The mere existence of a property of this nature really did surpass my imagination. Or perhaps not. Not really. But it made my day, nonetheless.
Djursholm, for those of you who don’t know, is a rather posh suburb. The area where the mysterious property is located is, it turned out, in the most exclusive part of Djursholm. It’s a location to die for, in other words; large villas, close to the sea. To quote wikipedia, for once:
Djursholm is the wealthiest community in Sweden with the most expensive property prices in the country. It was built as a garden city with large villas, most from the turn of the century, along winding roads. Already from start the elegant seaside quarters attracted many well known academians, cultural personalities and industrialists.
To begin with, the only information I had was the property description, that is, only the area (Danderyd Djursholm) and a number (2:85). With the help of google I got nowhere, but I was only mildly curious at this point in time, I didn’t expect anything out of this adventure. But still, I couldn’t help but wonder what this property was, so I then asked the Land Survey. They sent me a an extract from the land register.
And this, this extract, is what piqued my interest. What had seemed like some plain old boring matter suddenly became utterly exciting, because it was so mysterious. The property still had no address, but the Land Registry told me that properties in their register only have addresses if the municipalities report the addresses, so they advised me to check with the municipality. But, still, I got a load of information. I got to know name of the street block in which the property was located, for example, even though I had no way of finding out exactly where. But the information was weird enough to make me contact the municipality for that elusive address.
One reason the information so intrigued me was that the property, the land, was only 71 square meters. It was registered as an ‘industrial’ property. In a residential area, which was, of course, not impossible, but yet another intriguing aspect of it all. And, basically, 71 square meters — that’s like a two-room apartment. For a plot of land, it’s extremely tiny. What on earth can you do with 71 square meters? (Not much, it turned out, but let’s not jump ahead.) Build a homeopathic Goetheanum? I hoped for one! The property had been in the foundation’s possession since 1965 — that is, for 57 years! — I learnt from the land register, and the plot had been measured and classified in the 1920s. There is, however, a cryptic part of the entry that suggests to me it might have had a previous connection with the neighbouring properties.
So I asked the municipality for an address, and the reply was swift. The property had no address, but they could inform me of its location, with the help of a map and the addresses of adjacent properties. You see the map to the left. (The black numbers are street numbers, thus the address of the adjacent property is Ysätervägen 16.)
I can’t enough emphasize the strangeness of this: this is not an ‘anthroposophical area’. This is not Järna. I would expect to find 71 square meters of anthroposophical dead-end-road in Järna, where lots of the land is owned by anthroposophists and anthroposophical legal entities, but here? I began to look at the place on online maps and available footage, for example google maps. Here’s a screenshot, in which you can also spot the sea to the right. The white wall presumably belongs to the adjacent property (number 16), and that gives you an idea (a better idea than my photo above, it must be admitted). Basically it’s that space in front of the wall where all you can do is turn your car around. Or, possibly, disappear down a magic letterbox only to reappear on the sofas of spiritual beings and the rest of the gang. Sipping on champagne, I imagine.
Of course, I had to go and see if there was really a magic button somewhere over there. It’s not so far from here, 15 minutes on a train and then a walk, but we walk a lot anyway. I found nothing. One of the neighbours, the Moroccan embassy, was erecting party tents in their garden. Workmen were doing something on another property. It was a silent evening otherwise; almost nobody seemed to be home. We met some gnomes, who reported that no anthroposophists had been spotted lately.
I guess the risk is this plot of land will remain a wasted space for ever. But — use your imagination! What — aside from a mini Goetheanum! — could it be used for? The gnomes had some ideas but wanted me to keep them confidential. What do you think?
I want to know the history behind this mystery, but I wonder — would Vidarstiftelsen tell me? Or are there any anthroposophists or others who know more about this? Somebody curious must have wondered about this before? Any hints? Please tell me! (As always, answers in Swedish are of course welcome! Or, if you know something, but don’t want to submit a comment, please email me!)