Let's call him Olle. Around 60 years old. He has never sat in a kayak. We stand in a circle on the lawn with our paddles and I am trying to explain how it works. All the others have at least tried paddling at some point before. When Olle realizes he is the only one who has never paddled, he looks a bit embarrassed.

I try to reassure him, saying: "That's exactly why you're here."

This is a beginner course in kayak paddling, intended for people just like Olle. We will try things out carefully, get a feel for what it's like to sit in the kayak, and glide forward at a leisurely pace.

I talk about capsizing. I always do that with beginners, because I know it's the big fear when you're about to start paddling. It's natural. I explain that if people capsize, it's usually when getting into or out of the kayak. That once you're seated, most people feel quite secure.

I also say, completely truthfully, that even after all these years I still place my hand on the dock when I've sat down in a kayak I've never tried before, and lean carefully toward the dock to see how much I can tilt without capsizing. To get a feel for where the limit is. And that when my students do the same thing, they soon notice they can lean quite a lot.

It's a nice evening. No sun, admittedly, but no boat traffic either, and the lake lies mirror-smooth. We glide along the shore, the greenery hangs out over the water, and coots bob on the surface. I glance carefully back at Olle, wanting to see how he's doing. Sure enough, he's keeping up, even if it's not exactly fast going.

I paddle up to catch the fastest ones and ask them to wait a bit so the group can gather. I turn my own kayak so I can see everyone in the group. I ask if everyone is sitting comfortably.

I point out my favorite swimming rock. I tell them that my sister lives on Stora Essingen and that I sometimes paddle there and invite myself over for dinner. I demonstrate a simple steering stroke. I drink some water. All of it really just so everyone gets a short break.

When we then continue, I paddle closer to Olle and ask him how he thinks it's going.

"Well, it feels good. You have a great attitude here."

I'm happy when he says that. He actually says it several times during our short little tour.

A great attitude.

And I think that's how it should be, even though I don't know exactly what he means. Maybe he means the person he spoke with on the phone when he called to book. Was it Malin? Maybe the guys and girls who work on the dock and help participants get in and out of the kayak and adjust their foot pegs? Or me when I did the briefing on land? I don't know. Maybe he means all of us.

I used to often end the tour by doing a roll, meaning what was formerly called an Eskimo roll. Capsizing the kayak a full turn and coming up on the other side, without leaving the cockpit. To be honest, it was mostly to advertise our rolling courses.

But I've largely stopped doing that. I don't want participants to be impressed by me, but rather by the sport of paddling. Besides, if I ever receive complimentary comments (yes, it does actually happen!) I always feel a certain discomfort.

Is it the Law of Jante? My small-town background? "Don't boast!"

I don't know. But praise often makes me uncomfortable.

I practice rolling in an indoor pool during winter, together with truly skilled paddlers. Some of them must be considered among Sweden's elite.

And don't get me wrong, they are lovely people. And I learn a lot from paddlers who are better than I am.

But still, there's no getting around it. It's the beginners who make me love this job!

I honestly don't know why. Maybe it's the joy I see in people's eyes when they discover the magic of gliding completely silently across a still water surface. When I've managed to make an anxious participant feel calm on the water. When someone suddenly understands how to steer with the paddle, without a rudder. Or simply discovers that Stockholm becomes a whole new fantastic city that looks completely different from the water.

Because you do become impressed by Stockholm when paddling on Lake Malaren. If you hadn't realized it before, you do now. Our capital is stunningly beautiful!

There's no roll today either. As I said, it's the kayaking experience that should be highlighted, not the instructor. Whether Olle was impressed by me, I have no idea. I don't even know if he thought I was a particularly skilled paddler. Because that's not what he said. He just said:

"You have a great attitude."

Thank you Olle, for saying that.