After brief interlude in Poland, I once again grabbed my backpack and ventured out. Seeking a unique “Nordic” experience, I found odd similarity to the western world just eloped.
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Stockholm the familiar
Aleksandra made the bus ride from the Swedish airport feel like a breeze. The Moscow girl studied renewable energy in the Stockholm, and returned for her graduation ceremony. Equipped with a few recommendations I began roaming the streets full of Starbuckses and 7-11s. I bumped into an African Independence Day celebration by Sergels torg square right next to a Burger King, asked locals (who all spoke English fluently) for more recommendations, and finally made it to the beautiful waterfront. Exhausted from compulsive walking, I nourished disappointing Swedish hops at a small American pub where nightlife was clearly not happening that evening.
With first impressions of acute westernization, I returned to my hostel where I met Pawel, a Ukrainian guy with family all over Poland wanting to move to Lublin. The Ukrainians are probably one of the most dominant immigrants in my homecountry right now, the ones taking many low-sector jobs no one really want to do. But somebody has to keep the society running, right?
I also met a Turkish helicopter pilot visiting Stockholm to practice on aircrafts he could not find in his own country. While the first night in city might have been underwhelming, at least my traveling comrades proved a colorful bunch.
Old Town and beyond
Briefly re-meeting Pawel in the morning, I ventured into the gloomy weather towards Gamla Stan island just south of the city center. Walking in I realized – oh crap, I am in Warsaw’s old town!
The resemblance was uncanny, with twisted cobbled streets and oxidized-copper-green church towers. You could even buy the same faux-clay cups in souvenir stores. Sure, the area is quite nice in itself, but for a Polak like me, it felt tad too familiar.
So I ventured further south from the island, walking down another street off all-too-known western restaurants and cafes. Beginning to shake my head.
Disappointing first impressions
Clearly I chose all the wrong neighborhoods, for I was really disappointed so far. While Stockholm is extremely beautiful and well-maintained, I hoped it would prove even more “different” from mainland Europe I visited before. Instead, it felt a lot more like the US, reminding me of Seattle with alternate architecture but more 7-11s and Dunking Donuts.
American bars seemed to be most popular here, yet alcohol was heavily regulated by the government. Outside of bars and monopolized chain of liquor stores which close at 18:00, you can only get 2-3% beers or alcohol-free. The few local brews I tried were quite disappointing too. Finally, food was nothing to write about with all the trendy streets full of kebabs, sushi and fast food. Asking locals for their specialties, all I got was a few unsure “uuh, meatballs?” Needless to say, I cooked most of my own meals.
However, my reasons for disappointment were entirely subjective and shaped by my expectations. Luckily, as I would find out the following day, my impressions were only half-correct.
But before the night ended, I once again met an interesting group at the hostel – two girls from Canada and a Scott, old friends from summer camp on a travel-reunion 5 years later. And so, with a disability teacher-to be, a recently graduated psychologist, and a forensic artist, this traveling web and game developer ventured into the night to the Lion Bar. With overly sweet Rekorderlig Passionfruit Cider, we discussed the goods and bads of Canadian and Scottish life.
Hopeful second glances at a graveyard
The following morning, after sipping tea with the Canadian girls and a Uganda guy devouring his plate of figs and watermelon (the only healthy breakfast in sight), I navigated my way to the metro. I observed the plentiful greenery amidst houses enroute to Skogskyrkogården, one of the locals’ recommendations from the first day.
I entered the big open grass field and climbed the hill in the middle. Gray clouds hovered over the trees surrounding my strategic vantage point as droplets of rain swayed in the cold rain. Escaping wetness, I ventured into the safety of the forest and suddenly realized – graves. Graves everywhere. Cold and dead amidst the trees. Yet, the birds chirped playfully.
The place was somber, but calm. A lone runner and one little tour made the Graveyard-Park a place both for relaxation as well as existential introspection. The few chapels and monuments added to its beauty. And the gloomy rain set the perfect mood. My first highpoint of visiting Stockholm would have not been as impactful in any other weather.
Stocholm’s hipsterville and witches
Backtracking north, I decided to try another “first” during my travels – a free walking tour. The amiable Lee took us through Södermalm, the trendy part of southern island where rents would put even New Yorkers and Londoners to shame. As we walked by the shore staring at the multiple islands in the distance, we learned of the brawny, vile-mouthed women who used to row passengers across the bay a few centuries ago. We saw the church which burnt down twice, rebuilt with the same old tree bark to preserve its authenticity. Lee also explained his own immigration from the US, thanks to Swedish free education. But his most interesting tale was that of the occult.
In 1600s, the witch trials began, fueled by kids’ stories of being taken away at night. Embellishment is an understatement, yet concerned parents demanded the local government convict someone. Justice being what it was in the 17th century, many women were burnt or decapitated. The kids got even smarter and began blackmailing the female denizens for money, threatening to point fingers. Eventually, however, the city found out about the scheme and convicted the children as well (justice being what it was in the 17th century). Fourteen people died in total.
As the tour drew to the end, we learned a few important Swedish concepts such as “fika” (coffee and pastry break) or “lagom” (not too little, not too much, just right). We also played a game of “spot the latte pappas” – dads with strollers, a frequent sight thanks to Sweden’s amazing 240-day paid maternity leave. There was also something about “konst” (art) and ABBA, but I was too busy taking photos of the delightful streets and decorated trashcans to post on my Facebook for attention. I had to pay the hipster dues, after all.
Herring and fika with a British friend
During the tour I began conversing with Agnieszka, a girl from Poland on a little get-away with her American boyfriend, and Jilly, British web developer on a weekend vacation. We stopped by a little shack to grab a knicker, fried herring on crispy bread with cucumbers and onions. Agnieszka had to depart at this point, but Jilly and I ventured back to the heart of Södermalm.
We stopped at an adequately hipster café with hand-painted caricatures of Prince, vintage furniture, and a defunct motorbike by the entrance. As we gave to the fika, we discussed the recent influx of Syrian immigrants and the discriminatory response of many Europeans, pondered the future of the British referendum to leave the Union, and exchanged our favorite travel stories. At hour’s end, Jilly had to leave to make her evening train. We traded no contact information. Memory of half day’s connection with a mutually interesting stranger would be our sole memento.
The big boat and final thoughts on Stockholm
As I reached the Viking Line cruiser I was to board, I promptly realized there was no cruiser. Perhaps getting too old, perhaps too undernourished to think clearly, I mistakenly showed up at the port an hourly early. Finding myself with the extra time, I figured I might as well indulge some more compulsive exploration.
I walked by the shores, overhearing partying crowds on the other end while taking touristy photos of boats with seagulls. I pondered the comfortable life in the stylish houses far away from the commercialized city center. After today’s events, I was definitely warming up to Sweden.
I realized Stockholm is not a city I would care to visit, but rather, one I would consider moving to.
Soon I was back at the port and embarking on my first ever cruise ride, destination Finland. I was yet unaware my needlessly purchased cabin would go completely unused as the night would prove too eventful to sleep.
