Stockholm

 Stockholm

Our time in Stockholm was short but enjoyable.  We had a vigorous hike after disembarking that saw us gaining and then losing considerable amounts of elevation before at long last arriving sweatily at our eventual destination:  Gamla Stan – Stockholm’s old town. 

We didn’t have any excursions planned – nor time to do them anyway, so we mostly wandered.  And oh what a place it was to wander.  Narrow labyrinthine alleyways and pastel facades. 

Fantastically huge churches.

A gorgeous Romanesque palace.

And also, randomly, a surprisingly good place to meditate.

And between buildings you’d catch a glimpse of the beautiful Stockholm harbor, with its busy traffic of ferrys, and smaller personal boats, and old sailing ships.  

We stopped to let the kids shop for stuffies and to enjoy the Swedish version of korvapuusti (kanelbullar). Close, but not quite as good.

We stopped for a glass of wine, and for a weird lunch that was a fusion of Swedish and Italian foods -- spaghetti and meatballs but with Swedish meatballs.  Mostly we stopped to gawk at the beauty.  Of all of the cities we’ve been to on the trip this felt perhaps the most traditionally European.  The Swedish enjoy Fika -- a coffee and pastry break that is essential to their zen.  Similar to British tea time.  So we partook.

You can see how Sweden became a major European power in the 17^th century.  Throughout there were monuments to its military prowess.

The approach to Stockholm would have made a naval invasion virtually impossible, and the harbor itself is perfectly situated for the shipping of cargo.  It also provided a slightly warmer climate:  I’d estimate that the temperature here was a good ten degrees warmer than in Helsinki. Fahrenheit of course.  

School was in session, and it seemed like every block had a bustling playground filled with happy kids.

We were there long enough that in the early evening school got out and the laughter spilled from the school yard and flooded the narrow streets.  It was heartwarming to be in a city with such happy people.  We managed to pick up a smattering of Swedish.  Enough to know that “Tak” means thank you, and “mat” means food, and “infart” means entrance.  Seriously.  Infart.  Dweebs.

After we’d had our fill of pastries and wine and stuffed animals 

and meatballs we headed back on an equally grueling hike back to the ship.  

Then it was more ballpit, more Valle Viking, and some cheap champagne at the duty free shop.  We then went back on deck for as long as we could stand the increasingly frigid weather, to watch as much as we could of the beautiful Stockholm archipelago slipping away.

I hadn’t wanted to go to Sweden.  I didn’t think it would be worth it.  I was wrong.  It was yet another of the most magical parts of the trip.  I still don’t know if I like the country or its people.  All of my aforementioned beefs still remain.  But I respect it.  It’s like hot yoga.  Or Greek yogurt.  Or Shaq.  It might not be for me.  But I can objectively recognize it as amazing.

Hej Hej