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It’s always something of a letdown to come home after traveling abroad — especially when my dog is staying with my parents. Intellectually, I know he’s having a much better time with them than he’d have boarding at his vet’s (though he actually seems to like his vet quite a lot), but it’s harder on me because I usually have to wait until the weekend to pick him up, rather than collecting him immediately upon my return. Plus, as much as I like Atlanta, and particularly my neighborhood therein, it just doesn’t compare with London . . . or Stockholm.

There are several impressions about Swedish society, or at least Stockholm society, I want to record, particularly about environmentalism and parenting, but they need a bit more mulling over before I’m ready to commit them to the ether. In the meantime, and as I cull through my film and digital photography for posting on Flickr, I leave you with my favorite Stockholm photograph: the sunset on my final day there, a view from Gamla Stan over Södermalm:

Today was the Vasa Museet and the Nordiska Museet, which is conveniently situated right next door. Well almost. For once, I managed not to spend half the day wandering around. True, I did get on the #44 bus going the wrong way, only realizing it when we reached KTH, but that was easily fixed. It was also slightly embarrassing to realize that, after going halfway across town to catch the right bus, I realized that both museums were only slightly farther down the Strand than I’d walked the other day; I could’ve walked there from my hotel in maybe 20 or 30 minutes. Oops. I blame the fact that the maps in my guidebook are divided by island, so it’s not always apparent to an incautious planner that things are quite so close together — that, and I always forget how comparatively compact European cities are.

At least I got there in the end. If I’d gone the more efficient path, then I would’ve missed seeing the guy on the T-bana wearing a flag from the 2004 Olympics and a wreath of leaves on his otherwise entirely bald head. If I’d had the nerve, I would’ve taken his picture, but I wasn’t quite sure what he was doing or why, and decided to pretend that men running around with garlands and makeshift togas was completely normal.

Vasa Museet

Most of the museums I’ve visited thus far either have explicitly forbidden photography, or it hasn’t been clear whether it’s allowed; I prefer to err on the side of caution, so I haven’t been taking photographs in any of the museums until today. The Vasa Museet, though, states quite clearly that personal photography is allowed, so I actually have some interior photos today. (Over half the ones I took were with my film camera, and any decent ones will be posted on Flickr when they’re developed.)

Sidelong view, with people at bottom for scale.

Basically, the Vasa was a rather advanced gunship (the first of its kind to have two decks of heavy guns) built in the 1620s, which sank on its maiden voyage. It was salvaged in the mid-20th century, and they’ve built a big museum around it to preserve the ship and explain how it was built and how ships like it worked at the time. At first, it seems a little weird to have a museum celebrating a ship that was, in the most basic and practical sense, a complete failure — the whole point of ships being that they don’t sink, or pull a Poseidon Adventure on you in a calm sea. Given the fact that it only ever sailed a little over 4000 ft (about 1300 m) before capsizing, you’d think that the exhibits on “Life Aboard the Vasa” would have consisted mostly of the words, “Extremely short, actually.” On the other hand, the unusually high state of preservation (even though a lot of it had to be pieced back together) and the number of artifacts found in the wreck do make it a pretty interesting archaeologial find. There was one wooden chest that had survived amazingly well, with its owner’s hat, shoes, and other personal artifacts still preserved in astonishing condition; lots of tools, pottery, and provisions were also found. I suppose it’s no weirder than creating a museum for the Titanic — and the Vasa is far prettier.

Two views of the Vasa’s bow, or prow, or whatever the flat bit at the back is called. First photo was taken from the ground floor looking up, in a poor attempt to show the scale. Second is the bit at the top, taken from an upper floor.

I didn’t have as much time at the Nordiska Museet as I would’ve liked, unfortunately. Of the things I got to see, my favorites were probably the overview of Swedish furniture design from the late 1800s, and the slightly bizarre interactive exhibit about the history of alcohol in Sweden. (Currently, the government holds a monopoly on hard liquors, though apparently not on beer or wine; what I hadn’t realized was that, in the early 20th century, there apparently was prohibition and later a system of rationing that apparently could track who was drinking too much and cut off their supply . . . or at least had that potential. It was a little weird, an impression that was not helped by the fact that their English translations in that exhibit were all set right-aligned, usually on three lines, with line breaks in places that gave the impression that the captions were actually haikus with a few extra syllables, or free-form poetry:

(Not a real caption, but close enough.)

I’ll probably think of something else to report as soon as I click on the “Publish” button, but at the moment the only other thing worthy of note, besides my sadness that tomorrow is my last day here, and my slight anxiety about meeting my plane at 6:30 or so on Tuesday morning (yipe), is that “cool ranch” flavor Doritos are known here as “cool American” Doritos.

Item 1: If I do come to Stockholm again in the summer, it might be a good idea to stay farther away from the “night out on the town” areas. (I’ll be more familiar with the public transport, so being centrally located shouldn’t be as much of a concern.) Last night there were noisy revelers passing by my window until at least 1:00 AM, which isn’t too late when all things are considered, but which is quite late indeed when you’re tired and achy and just want to sleep. I think my favorite group was the one reasonably early in the evening, about a quarter ’til midnight: a bunch of guys standing in the alley beside my hotel, singing Mancini’s “Baby Elephant March” at the top of their lungs. Repeatedly. And very enthusiastically.

Item 2: Everyone here has the most amazing legs. I am not making this up: their thighs are all slender and not bulgy at all, anywhere, and the way their jeans fit just accentuates it. Men, women, kids: they all have these almost unbelievably slim thighs. I have seen more skinny thighs in the last few days than I have in the last few years; the people seem generally more slender than in the U.S., actually, but to me the absence of fat deposits from the upper thigh is the most noticeable thing. (Quite a few rather slim Americans still have saddlebags or other “problem areas.”) I’m not sure whether it’s all the walking and/or biking that they do, genetics, something to do with their diet (though I’ve noticed that the American fast-food chains always seem to be busy as I pass by), hours of sunlight, cosmic radiation, or some lingering boon from the ancient Nordic gods, but whatever it is, I want some of it. My thighs could do with some deblobbification. (At least my muscle tone has improved after all the walking I’ve done. Not that you could see any difference, but I can feel it.)

Gamla Stan.

Today’s main expedition was the Historiska Museet, which is probably my favorite of the museums I’ve visited so far. They’ve got an excellent collection of medieval (circa 15th century) carved altarpieces, if you’re into that sort of thing — which I happen to be — and a pretty fair collection of reliquaries, baptismal fonts, heavily decorated church doors, and devotional sculpture, as well.

Their Viking exhibit is also pretty extensive, though I found a little of the English text in the early Christian era to be a bit simplistic (early Christianity incorporated other faiths and symbols as it moved into a region — is this really news to anyone?).* There was also an exhibit on Swedish prehistory, but that was the last one I saw and, by that time, my back was hurting way too much (stupid messenger bag that lets me carry too much stuff around) to stand around trying to parse the untranslated descriptions into something I could understand. It was also a little too much in the “you are here!” school of museum design for my taste: films of campfires and waterfalls were projected on the floor and walls, and there was a soundtrack that apparently was meant to suggest the sounds of a prehistoric campsite. Perhaps I am stodgy, but I prefer my museum exhibits to be more old-school.

I spent most of the day at the Historiska Museet, and didn’t get out until a little after 3:30. My guidebook was wrong about the number of daylight hours Stockholm gets in November: it said less than 2 hours per day, but it’s always been at least light-ish by the time I’ve gotten up (say, 8:00 or 8:30), and it was only getting on toward dusk when I left the museum today. It’s also been quite warm, comparatively — I haven’t needed my hat or scarf at all, though there have been times I’ve wished I’d brought my gloves. (Apparently it is unseasonably warm this year, though: Folke mentioned yesterday that they haven’t had much of a winter yet.) I have no idea what the actual temperature has been, but I’d guess the highs have been around 38 to 40ºF (maybe 4 to 5ºC)? Brisk, but quite comfortable if you’re wearing layers. I do wish I’d thought to bring an umbrella, though. . . .

At any rate, I should be able to brave the bus system again tomorrow, and trek out to see the Vasa. If all else fails, I noticed that the #44 bus (one of the two lines suggested to get to the Vasamuseet) stops just outside the Karlaplan T-bana station; even if it isn’t the most direct route, it would probably be easier and more efficient to just go straight to Karlaplan and catch the bus there, rather than stalking randomly through the streets for a couple of hours trying to look as if I know where I’m going. It’s exploring, really — I’m not getting lost, as such. In fact, I’m starting to recognize places through which I’ve previously wandered, and figuring out how they all fit together. Of course, I’m only here for two more days, so by the time I’ve figured it out it’ll be time to go home.

Maybe I should just come back this summer, and stay for two weeks. Perhaps if the trip to Jena with my mom doesn’t work out, I’ll look into that. I’m slowly getting the hang of Stockholm, or at least a tenuous grip on it with the very edge of my fingertips. It’s a lovely city, with good working transit and a gazillion bicyclists all over the place — and bike lanes everywhere. Today I actually managed to place two complete orders entirely in Swedish — one for coffee (expensive, and had been left on the burner too long; yesterday’s soja latte was so much better) and one for a mushroom pizza “inte ost.” Heavens know how many grammatical and pronunciation errors I made, but I was at least vaguely understood in context, and got what I’d requested. (Until now, I’ve usually been asked, “English?” as soon as I open my mouth, which relieves one’s performance anxiety but also kind of makes it difficult to improve one’s speaking ability.)

Don’t particularly want to go home, actually. My lovely employer will just have to open up a European branch headquartered in Stockholm, and let me do my editing from here. My parents can ship Nigel over — he’d love this place; dogs can go almost everywhere. Sell the car, sell the flat, sell the furniture, put my books in storage until I can arrange to have them shipped.

Yeah, that would work. :)

***

*It’s possible, though, that the original Swedish was more intellectual, but I just couldn’t read more than every fifth word or so. I’ve noticed on quite a few occasions that, when bilingual museum cards are provided, the Swedish side may have five or six paragraphs detailing various aspects of the artifact, giving provenance and likely use; the English side often, though not always, is much shorter and along the lines of, “This is a belt buckle from the 8th century. Its detail is very intricate and probably symbolic.” (Exaggeration, but not by much.) Still, being functionally illiterate in Swedish, I’m grateful for any translation at all: I can scan the untranslated paragraphs looking for dates and words I recognize, and generally fill in the gaps, but even the scantiest of proper translations is still appreciated.

Oh yeah — I’ve been meaning to mention the elevator in my hotel. It’s the dinkiest little thing ever, and dreadfully cute, but not for the claustrophobic among us: I can reach lengthwise along the elevator without fully extending my arms, and it isn’t deep enough for two people to stand back to front, or in whatever order they wish to stand. Official capacity: three. (The only other time I’ve seen such a compact elevator was at my hotel in London on my first visit. I suppose if you’re retrofitting an older building, you work with the space you’ve got. Rather clever, actually.)

The photograph doesn’t really give you a sense of the scale, unfortunately, but I liked it anyway.

I think I’m going to start calling all elevators “hiss”es from now on. It’s a much more evocative term, really. :)

I actually managed to get a fair amount accomplished today — including everything I’d set out to do. Yay, me. Not only did I make it to KTH and the Tekniskamuseet, but I got a fair amount of walking around and photography in (albeit much of it on the film camera, so nothing’s postable yet), and made it out to an actual restaurant and a pub.

KTH.

Folke, my host at KTH, was a very sweet and kind guy who talked to me about his department’s current projects for probably 45 minutes; his own current research involves tracing the origin of moisture leakage in building envelopes by checking the isotope fingerprint of the water, which is actually rather a cool idea. He then showed me around the facilities — my favorite was probably the miniature test cleanroom, in which they can test the effectiveness not only of different airflows but of different garments; his description of people putting on the test clothes and “dancing around” in the little chamber was rather vivid, and very endearing. (Whoever said engineering is boring must not have actually learned some of the things they get up to.) He even gave me a copy of a dissertation on soft (i.e., lower-exergy) air conditioning in a warm, humid climate, which is pretty cool indeed (er, no pun intended, really).

Column finial at KTH.

After my visit, I wound up walking around again for a couple of hours, trying desperately to find a stop for the number 69 bus to take me to the Tekniska Museet. I’d gotten directions — there was supposed to be a stop on one side of T-centralen — but I swear I walked around the entire station and entirely failed to find it. (This is where a traveling companion really comes in handy: not only do you have someone with whom you can discuss the invisibility of things you’re seeking, but you also have another set of eyes looking for whatever it is, thus theoretically doubling your chances of actually not missing it.) So I walked around random streets, enjoying the crowds and the architecture and occasionally taking photographs, until I wound up along the Strand — and finally found a bus stop for #69. Good freakin’ god: I’d left KTH a little after 11:00, and it was about 2:30 when I finally found the bus line. Apparently I am navigationally challenged.

One of the buildings I photographed while wandering around aimlessly through Stockholm.

The main thing I’d wanted to see at the Science Museum was an exhibit on high-tech textiles, but I found that a little disappointing — not enough detail, more of a summary of cool things we can do (e.g., the woven mats with networks of fibers in them are not only used in car seats and beds, but can be adapted to clean up oil spills and then centrifuged to get the oil out). I consciously avoided the “Science Is Fun!” sections intended for children. Actually, my favorite bit was the machine room, a big hall full of models and actual full-scale relics from the 19th century on up: everything from windmills to diesel generators to motorcycles. Quite cool. I’d had high hopes for the iron exhibit, as well — tracing the history of iron and steel from prehistory to the modern day — but most of it was untranslated and my Swedish vocab is only enough for me to recognize bits and pieces. (That is, I could recognize when they were talking about iron and when about steel, and occasional details. Not very helpful; should’ve studied harder.)

I bought some lovely postcards for friends, which I shall mail if I get around to it and otherwise will just hand-deliver, and a CD of radio recordings from 1940. (Have I mentioned that I have a weakness for 1930s and 1940s music? Erm. Well, I do. Fred Astaire was quite sexy, actually.)

The restaurant and pub were nothing too exciting, I’m afraid. I did buy my first cup of coffee today, though: a nice soja latte. The lack of coffee might explain why I’ve been having these vague headaches lately. . . .

Coffee!

I haven’t quite decided what I’ll do tomorrow; possibly the Vasamuseet, though that’s another one that’s only really accessible by bus or by foot. I really must go to the bus Web site and figure out where I can catch the buses I need, so I don’t tramp randomly through the city again peering hopelessly at bus shelters in search of the numbers I need. It works, eventually, but it’s not dreadfully efficient.

As predicted, I’m deadly sore, particularly in the neck and back. Serves me right for trying to carry around so much crap (even though I decided to leave Errol the Mac in the room while I roam, the cameras and miscellaneous stuff still weigh a ton, or perhaps a tonne). On the other hand, I have successfully managed to locate the closest Tunnelbana stop, spent ages this morning just walking around trying to get a feel for the layout (I wasn’t lost, really!), and actually made it to two museums: the Medeltidsmuseet (medieval Stockholm) and Medelhavsmuseet (Mediterranean antiquities). I tried to make it to a third, the Historiska Museet, but apparently I went out the wrong exit from the T-bana stop, and by the time I found my way back it was only an hour before the museum closed, so I didn’t feel inclined to pay admission. (A lot of the museums in Stockholm have free admission, and quite a few of those that don’t are included in the Stockholm Card deal, but the Swedish history museum doesn’t appear to belong to either of those categories.) Still, I got a chance to walk through a park surrounded by a bunch of rather interesting Functionalist-type flats (not Tessinparken, but I think it was reasonably nearby) and meet some very lovely dogs.*

The museums I did manage to find were enjoyable, though a little small for someone accustomed to the British Museum. I’d say they were both around the size of the Michael C. Carlos museum in Atlanta: several galleries, but not huge. Maybe about a third to half the material was translated into English as well, but when it wasn’t you could usually figure out at lleast the gist of what they were showing you. The Medeltidsmuseet has part of the old 1530s city wall, which is pretty cool, and an exhibit on the practice of archaeology; those were my favorite bits. The walk-through exhibit of a building mid-construction was interesting, but a little simplistic; probably helpful for kids or those unfamiliar with, say, the different types of arches used in medieval architecture. (Indeed, there were at least two different school groups there during my visit. I must say that I was astonished at how well-behaved the children — who appeared to range from maybe 6 to 10 — were, and they generally seemed to be paying attention. Such a contrast to the typical U.S. public school trip, alas.)

Incidentally, one of my favorite new vocabulary words is Hiss, which means “elevator” or “lift.” Very onomatopoeic. This is one of my favorites, from outside the Medeltidsmuseet:

The Medelhavsmuseet was perhaps a bit smaller, or at least it seemed so, but more densely packed with stuff. The standard Egyptian, Greco-Roman, Etruscan, etc. exhibits were well presented, though I must say that they relied a little too heavily for my taste on putting all the discussion of objects in a pamphlet, rather than on a little poster inside the case; perhaps they took the pamphlet approach to save clutter when translating descriptions? Hmm. Anyway, the only thing there I couldn’t figure out was an exhibit on Pompei, which I think was possibly an installation art exhibit or . . . something. There were photographs from the actual Pompei, including photos of tourists’ behavior there, and then there were casts that were obviously modern — including one of teddy bears. Also suitcases decorated with rhinestones. Not sure what was up with that, because the only explanatory text I saw was in Swedish that was way too complicated for my rudimentary vocab, and the video running on loop near the entrance was equally beyond me.

Beyond that, I’ve just been trying to get the feel for how things work around here. Finding the tube stations, and figuring out that the Stockholm Card must be shown to the attendant and, despite the presence of a magnetic strip on the back, cannot be scanned through the machines, helped a great deal. Tomorrow I’m supposed to go to the Kungliga Tekniska Högskolan, and then I thought I’d brave the bus system to try to find the Tekniska Museet, which doesn’t appear to be accessible from the Tunnelbana. Yipe.

***

*Stockholm dogs, at least the ones I’ve encountered thus far, seem to be far friendlier than all the London dogs I’ve met. In London, dogs on an outing seem to be focused solely on their human, and seem startled if you wave to them or smile. Perhaps it’s to do with living in such a huge city . . . the dogs I’ve met here are largely more outgoing with strangers: still paying attention to their human, but alert to the possibility that passing strangers might be good for a pat on the head or an ear scratch. They do that same, “Hey, you’re looking at me!” gleeful response that I expect; one largish German shepherd nearly pulled his distracted human off her feet as he came over to say hej. You’ve got to like a city with such friendly dogs.

I’m here, but though I’m able to access my blog’s admin page, I cannot, for some mysterious reason, access Google. Not sure what’s up with that, but whatever. Please forgive any typos or nonsense, because I’m rather tired, having gotten very little sleep on the planes and also having walked about a gazillion kilometres, most of them dragging luggage that seemed heavier than I remembered it being back home in my flat.

My general, nonbinding, cranky-first-day impressions follow in list format, because I seriously doubt I could construct long paragraphs right now that are up to even my usual standards. (Scary, isn’t it?)

Anyway, I’m obviously incoherent and very tired, and also rather hungry. I’m going to try to rip open the soysage packaging with my teeth so I can eat something, and then maybe take a shower before I conk out.

• Stockholm International Film Festival: 16-26 Nov.
  As if there aren’t enough other things already on my to-do list for Stockholm. I need more time. (I leave Tuesday! I am so not prepared.)
  (tags: stockholm sweden art film)

• GreenDisk
  Computer media and accessories recycling!
  (tags: recycling recycle green media technology)
• ACT: Alternative Community Training
  Computer media recycling that provides jobs for people with disabilities — hopefully we can ship our old floppies, CDs, and cases from work. :)
  (tags: recycling green)