HD5: Stockholm, Sweden

7.11.12 We arrived in Stockholm about 6AM, before the sun was even awake. However, by the time the bus drove from the harbour to the city, the sun decided to peek its head above the horizon and before long the entire city was bathed in a soft pink glow. Stockholm is gorgeous in its own right, but at sunrise it’s one of the most spectacular, breathtaking sights I’ve ever beheld—I say that about a lot of things, but I say this seriously. I was literally at a loss for words at the sight: old European-style buildings painted either orange, pink, salmon, coral, yellow, mustard, or variations of those colours, with wrought-iron window sills and black accents, hanging flower baskets, window flower baskets; elaborate cathedrals; and cobblestone streets backed by the glimmering Baltic Sea (Stockholm is the Scandinavian Venice). Needless to say, I instantly fell in love with Stockholm. (It’s only shortcoming was that, throughout my entire stay in the city/country, I never saw an attractive man. Sweden, as far as I saw, is completely void of attractive males. This fact made me question my newfound dream of moving to Stockholm.) Sasha took us on a tour of the city: we saw the royal palace (where the Swedish king works but does not live), the “Big Church,” the harbour, beautiful statues, Museum Island (though we wouldn’t enter the museums until our return trip), and went to a famous overlook of the city. The city is built on a hundred different islands with canals running through it, hence its nickname of being the Scandinavian Venice. Stockholm is a photographer’s paradise—I would have given anything to own an SLR camera at that point: my little Nikon point-and-shoot didn’t give the city justice in the least bit. We were even privileged to witness a changing of the guards at the royal palace; it was shockingly different from any military ceremony I’ve seen: the guards were unprofessional, for lack of a better word. Their eyes wandered, their steps weren’t exactly synchronized, and I even noticed a couple of them smirk at each other. A random observation that my whole group made was that the guards had humongous feet. Perhaps they just wore large shoes, but my lands, their feet were not proportional to the rest of their normal-sized bodies. You know what they say about men with large feet, though—perhaps it was just Mother Nature’s way of making up for their lack of pretty faces. We had breakfast in a little café and then explored the city on our own. One of the girls found internet access on her smart phone and updated us on the presidential elections in America, to our dismay. None of us are Obama supporters and some of the girls deduced that this was a sign of the second coming—if the world lasts another four years, I’ll make certain to vote. Ironically, the election outcome was pasted on the front page of all the Swedish newspapers and magazines, which resulted in us having a political discussion with a sweet shop owner. We discovered that most, if not all, of Sweden is pro-Obama—Europe, actually, is pro-Obama; she was surprised that we were supporters of Romney. My right-winged roommate kindly explained to her why Romney would have improved our economic situation, while Obama had just put us deeper in debt and will most likely continue to do so. (I don’t know much about politics, so I just sat back and listened.) It was interesting to hear a European’s opinion on American politics; it’s also interesting how interested the world is in our politics—while I just discovered that Sweden has a royal family and a parliament (but that could just be my egocentric ignorance). (Sweds are actually happy with their government and economic situation, though many leave to find work in Norway simply because the pay is 3 times higher there—another interesting fact.) We had a very pleasant conversation about other topics as well and left feeling like we’d made a friend. In fact, the Sweds are a very friendly, grateful people; having been in Russia for three months, we were taken back by how many strangers smiled at us when we passed on the street. I felt, for the first time since leaving America, I could be my usual smiley self in public places; what a relief! I hope Russia doesn’t ruin that natural tendency for me. Our day in Sweden was an enjoyable one; I looked forward to the time we would spend here on our return journey. Once we boarded the bus that afternoon, we drove past the Stockholm Ikea—the largest and busiest Ikea in the world (Ikea is Swedish). Ally, my roommate, worked in the Draper, Utah Ikea and regularly reminds us of her love for it; she was super excited to see the headquarters, though disappointed that we didn’t have the time to explore the inside. Ahead of us was a nine-hour drive to Oslo, Norway, broken up by a dinner break at McDonald’s and few potty stops. I ordered the most delicious sweet chili chicken wrap ever and a chocolate muffin at McDonald’s—if McDonald’s tasted like that in the States, I would eat there all the time (it’s a good thing I don’t live in Sweden, I suppose). Shelley purchased “Swedish fish” at a nearby convenient store, though, of course, the Swedish Fish we’re accustomed to in America are made in Canada; these Swedish fish we nasty (we later discovered that they were salted herring flavored, which is a Swedish delicacy—yum!). When in Rome, do as the Romans do, right? Whatever, I’ll take McDonald’s over herring flavored candy any day. We arrived at our hotel outside of Oslo late at night, right before I nearly threw up from carsickness. I was rather cranky, but a hands-free hot shower, water bottle full of the purest water I’ve ever tasted, and comfortable bed eventually soothed me. Shelley, my roommate for the night, and I decided to watch a little bit of the election news on BBC News before we fell asleep; we could hardly imagine how America itself was reacting to the results. Ironic how I was in the land of kings and queens and America was the country unhappy with their government; it’s funny how things work out.