The year of 1871

She looked eastward for a long time as the sun painted her old country orange with it’s last rays of light. Scandinavia was more and more becoming a thin jagged line on the horizon as the boat steamed westward.

She then turned her head towards the bow, the setting sun and the greatest adventure ever. Over there. America. Her heart raced with both hope and fear at the same time.

As she brushed her long blond hair from her blue eyes she suddenly realised that she wasn’t fröken Andersson no more.

She was Miss Anderson.