Travel Tales from Stockholm
In The Kingdom of the Ridiculously Nice – Stockholm
An Introductory Nutshell: A 7am arrival, a cheese sandwich, five pints of black coffee and a desire to kill the drunken herd sitting at the table next to me.
After spending the night under a café table on the ferry from Turku to Stockholm I was very pleased to finally brush off the bread crumbs and head to the hostel for a short nap before venturing off into the streets of Stockholm. I'd had an intensive day so a decent rest was much needed. Once I was safely on the dry land I tried to make sense out of the Swedish transport system. All of a sudden I was approached by a middle-aged Swedish man in a smart suit. He spoke in his native tongue and waved a small piece of paper at me. I apologised for my poor Swedish and he replied in fluent English.
“I was merely inquiring if you need a bus ticket. You see, the one I bought earlier does not expire for another hour and I don't need it anymore. Here, have it.” The man said.
I thanked him in my poor Swedish. I never had the chance to use the free ticket as I had already reached my hostel by foot before any buses showed up. I later learned that the people of Stockholm are thoughtful like that and that pretty much everything is within walking distance in this pleasant, clean metropolis.
The hostel I had chosen was located on Sodermalarstrand - near the Old Town. Or to be more specific, the hostel was floating on the surface of the river Riddarfjarden. I'd never slept on a boat so a night spent in this particular rented bed was indeed a very unusual experience.
I had to scrap my plans of taking a nap before heading out as the room was steaming and packed with snoring people. I know myself far too well to even attempt sleeping in conditions like that. Instead I walked down the Vasagatan - past the railway station, bought expensive cigarettes from a Seven Eleven and had a coffee in Wayne's.
Everything seemed unreal in this bright, pre Nine.O.Clock world. Stockholm is one of the first places in world where the smoking ban has kicked in so I sat outside, smoked, drank coffee and watched people on their way to work. I vaguely remember having a job where I was expected to get to work in the early hours. In my memory it was a dreadful experience. The Swedes however strolled down the street - rather care free. They looked terrifyingly happy.
I'd obtained a brochure that included details of Stockholm's museums. There are about seventy museums in the capital of Sweden and a vast portion of them don't charge entrance fees. The rest are quite cheap so I decided to expand my cultural horizons and headed to the Music Museum as soon as it opened. I was the only person there not accompanied by children but I enjoyed trying out the instruments which were made out of unimaginable things. It was also fun to gaze through the collection of every single instrument in existence and listen to audio samples.
It was still painfully hot, way too early to be awake and obscenely dirt-free
After I left the Music Museum on Sibyllegatan it was still painfully hot, way too early to be awake and obscenely dirt-free. I was later told that the cleanliness is due to the lack of heavy industry in Stockholm. The majority of the population work in the service industry - which is apparent when you look at the amount of retail facilities and tourists in central Stockholm. I wandered up and down the Drottning gatan where the Ahlens City department store can be found. Here I gazed at the shop windows on Kungsgatan and came to the conclusion that I had yet to see anything distinctively Swedish on these streets.
As the afternoon approached I found myself sitting on stairs at the Sergelstorg. This central square has been constantly developed since the 1960s and the architecture is ultramodern. On one side there is the Kulturhuset which translates as the culture house. That is exactly what it sounds like. The modern glass building consists of various exhibitions, magazine and newspaper reading facilities, and shops selling cultural commodities. Also theatre and dance performances take place here.
After finishing another expensive cigarette I was approached by a man who told me he's staying in the city over the weekend for a reggae festival. Then he asked me if I had any drugs to sell. People were to mistake me as some sort of drug dealer quite frequently during my European tour. I blame my haggard appearance - caused by the chronic lack of sleep.
I left central Stockholm and ended up in the National Museum. One of the on going exhibitions - Design 19002000, was the highlight of my stay. It consisted of everything from carved glass artefacts from the 1920s to the post-modern designs of the 1980s. As a die hard Pop Art admirer I spent a long time sighing in front of the glass cabin which contained the 1960s plastic furniture. I decided never to travel again until I could afford to buy a bubble chair or something similar.
In addition to the breath taking design I came across another sign of Swedish politeness. When I first arrived at the National Museum I was told to leave my bag in a locker. I needed a coin to lock one. I rummaged my pockets to find change but found none. I asked at the information desk if I could break a note and they offered me a coin on the condition that I return it before leaving. Looking back at the niceness of the whole nation I feel rather bad for not giving the change back. I genuinely forgot. My sincerest apologies - people of Sweden.
I later lost the brochure of museum details on Strandvagen. I was admiring the luxury apartments and decided to sit down and revise the museum brochure for a bit - on a bench. It was here when all of a sudden a cockroach jumped off a tree and landed on my shoulder. It was the size of my head. I dropped the brochure, screamed and ran away from the scene as fast as I could. So there I was, without a map and any museum details. That's how my cultural expansion ended.
I headed to the Old Town to rummage around the boutiques recommended by my friends. I needed a cheap wedding gift. I was left speechless by the old buildings, especially around the Stortorget which is the oldest square in Stockholm. It was very pleasant wandering around the narrow alleys of the Old Town - even though my narrow budget didn't allow me to purchase anything from the diverse selection of quirky little shops.
The waitress clearly knew that haggard tramps like me should not be there in the first place but she chose to ignore this
At the end of the day I scraped together some Swedish crowns and had a pint at the Oasis - a floating beer garden and restaurant. The waitress clearly knew that haggard tramps like me should not be there in the first place but she chose to ignore this, served me a good, honest Swedish pint and had a nice chat with me about tattoos.
The next morning I left the hostel and killed a few hours by lying in a park at Norrmalm. I was confused and tried to work out all the streets I had walked up and down. I couldn't tell if I'd gone round in circles for the past thirty-six hours. Everything seemed to be surrounded either by the sea or a green area of some kind. I had to cross a bridge wherever I went. How many bridges where there? The streets were filled with smiling people at all hours. Was that how they were behind closed doors? I quit trying to work out Stockholm and tried to take in some of the positive vibes. They would be much needed in the cramped, poorly ventilated train I was about to get on.
- Laura Rosten
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