I spent 3 days in Stockholm. Gamla Stan, to be more accurate. This is the island they call Old Town. It is the something something Medieval something something. Oldest. Best kept. Prettiest. I forget. Something I have noticed while traveling is that everything you visit has a qualifier. What makes it important in the grand scheme of things. I don’t put much stock in that stuff.
Awesomely, I don’t think Stockholm does so much either, because a lot of their stores said, “Probably the best souvenir shop in town,” or “Probably the best Swedish meatballs in town.” Probably. Reading so many reviews (as we all do these days) of restaurants, or attractions, it still remains so subjective. What mood was that person in? Does not getting a fork 37 seconds after requested make the whole place a shitbag?
I’m a big fan of reading the general gist of a place, and deciding if it sounds interesting. But I must admit that some stars on the review scale is a good thing.
My hostel was in the heart of Gamla Stan, and once I got to my room, and saw where my bed was located, I pulled some diva shit and requested an upgrade.
Learned on this trip? Never get a room with more than 6 people. 6 people sounds is more than enough in a room.
In Gamla Stan, I started with a room for 20, and my head would have been right near a door that sounded like Thor was live in the cut. NEXT.
Gamla Stan is tourism squared. Which was nice for people watching. It is one of the 30,000 islands in the archipelago that make up Stockholm. This was news to fucking me. 30,000! Stockholm is an archipelago! I like that I flew here from Norway with no real knowledge of it’s geography. Really, I do.
I found a cute cute cute bakery that sold me a Swedish cinnamon bun, and a mango ginger smoothie. I went back the next day for seconds (this time with the almond sugar fatty delicious mess they slather on top with cardamom. YUM.).
One night, I ate at a restaurant that gave me the ultimate potato pancakes with caviar and creme fraiche, and some Swedish meatballs. Playing in the background? Robyn. PERFECTION. A dream had been fulfilled that I was not aware was an actual dream until it came to fruition.
Outside the single room of my hostel was surprisingly quiet after 10pm. It seems that everything closes exactly then, and people just go right the heck to sleep.
Except for two nights.
One, a Frenchman shouted for his lover(?) for over an hour to no response. He ended up taking running kicks at the door around 5 or six times, before he gave up and sat on the stoop crying.
Another night, a girl stopped below my window and cried passionately(and theatrically) for 5 minutes, before breaking into maniacal laughter and marching off.
I was tempted to throw down a chocolate bar I had been given, but she was wearing headphones, and I had no way to alert her of the falling confection.
So I wandered around Gamla Stan for a day, eating and shopping, then spent a day in Sodermalm. This is the hip side of town with countless thrift stores and cool looking people. I ate sushi there, and went to the photography museum.
I also got some really good sleep, and took some pretty great showers.
I also had an elk steak. It was aaaiiite.
It DID look like a dick though, didn’t it?