preraphaelitepunk.com

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.