A Travellerspoint blog

Entries about scandinavia

Probably the best capital in Scandinavia

Possibly the best cat cafe in Europe

semi-overcast 8 °C

Copenhagen is a straightforward journey from Stockholm, just five hours on a comfortable train with free wifi. It's an overcast day and the countryside we pass through doesn't engage my attention, to the point where I have to battle to not fall asleep. Things liven up slightly when we trundle onto the Øresund Bridge that crosses the strait separating Malmö and Copenhagen, but even there the pervasive cloud and a calm sea lack much in the way of excitement.


The weather is crisp so I decide to walk from the railway station to my hotel. This stroll reveals that Copenhagen is even more full of rabid cyclists than Stockholm was, and here amongst the biking hordes can also be seen baby carriers and goods compartments. Apparently more than a third of the residents of the capital cycle to their place of work or study, a figure I don't find hard to believe. Once again, as a pedestrian I feel in a distinct endangered minority.


My hotel is rather grander than I was expecting, despite being the same price as my Stockholm residence, but the money seems to be going on the impressive lobby and besuited reception staff rather than the tired decor of the room. It's in a good location though, and not just because there's a Tesla showroom nearby. Copenhagen turns out to be as walkable as Stockholm but it's still handy to be close to a subway station.


I'm glad that I can mainly use just my own two feet, because the public transport system looks excessively complicated - you have to count zones and county boundaries in order to determine what kind of ticket you need. I save myself some mental straining by only using public transport on days when I know I'll be doing enough travelling to justify a twenty-four hour ticket covering all zones. The trains have plenty of dedicated bike racks and no-one treats bikes as a pain in the neck - contrast that with the looks you'll get if you try to get on a commuter train with a bike in the UK. The system seems to run on an honour basis but, on the one journey I take where there is a ticket check, no-one is found wanting. (Which reminds me that the metro in Stockholm is not run on an honour system - at one station I'd seen a guy vault the barrier to get in for free, and the chap in the ticket booth just looked at him open-mouthed.) If you so wish, you can sit at the front of the metro trains here and watch the tunnel go by. I also find a company offering Segway sightseeing tours of Copenhagen but such things seem to be a sight in themselves, which goes against my general travel policy of trying to keep a low profile.


Copenhagen boasts one of the few cat cafes in Europe, Cafe Miao, and having visited a similar establishment in Vienna last year I am eager to see what a Danish version looks like. The set-up is not much different, with the main cafe consisting of a large area where customers can order food and drink and have the opportunity to interact with the cats. There's assorted feline memorabilia and some climbing apparatus, as well as a cats-only area where the animals can get away from the humans. However several of the cats here are inquisitive and will happily initiate contact with their two-legged visitors, which was not the case in Vienna at all. In fact the tabby, Tiger, is so intrigued by my stir-fried vegetables that he constantly tries to get onto my table, from which I have to regularly evict him. The white cat, Snehvide (Snow White), is a new arrival to the cafe and, though friendly to me, isn't yet on amicable terms with the other cats. My favourite is Guffe, a sleepy ginger who seems to get most of the attention from other customers. I return to the cafe several times, noting that its clientele is predominantly twentysomething Danish women.


I find Copenhagen to have rather more of interest to me than Stockholm, even though one of its most famous tourist sights, the Tivoli Gardens, is closed, and another, the Little Mermaid statue, seems like a triumph of hype over substance. The statue is small, barely four feet tall, and rather plainly sculpted yet it attracts busloads of visitors. I see it for the first time by night, a surreal experience because a canoe safari is there at the same time and their bobbing head-torches provide the illumination. Frankly, the Gefionspringvandet fountain nearby is considerably more interesting.


I spend most of my time plodding the capital's streets, even though there's a similar shortage of sunlight as there was in Stockholm. My hotel is in the Indre By, or Inner City, neighbourhood. The City Hall features some statues of what I can only assume are mythological creatures, but I don't know what the story behind them is.


The Stock Exchange building has an excellent spire consisting of four intertwined dragons' tails.


I read that the Order of the Elephant is Denmark's highest chivalric order, and around the capital can be found elephant emblems.


I admire Rosenborg Castle, built in the Renaissance style, from the outside, and have a pleasant amble through the pretty, neighbouring Kongs Have (King's Garden), containing a statue of one of Denmark's most famous sons, Hans Christian Andersen.


The district of Christianshavn contains Vor Frelsers Kirke, a church with an astounding spiral staircase that runs outside the steeple. It's a highly distinctive look but, with my dodgy head for heights, I'm not tempted to climb up.


Nearby is Christiania, a self-proclaimed autonomous neighbourhood that is famous for its cannabis trade. There's a counter-culture feel that reminds me very much of Nimbin.


Nyhavn is another of Copenhagen's most famous sights, colourful buildings on either side of an inlet in which a number of sailing ships are moored. It's very scenic and also a particularly touristy area in the evening. At 10AM one Saturday morning, I hear music still pumping out of the Hong Kong club, one of the tracks somewhat incongruously being a-Ha's Cry Wolf. A few patrons stagger out into the morning air. There's a depiction of Nyhavn in a window of the Lego store, Lego being one of Denmark's most successful exports.


There are several enticing day trips available outside of Copenhagen and I take one to Hillerød, a small town to the north which is the home of Frederiksborg Castle, a stunning Renaissance building situated on a lake. I take the audio tour for the interior, which is the first audio tour I've ever done using an iPod Nano. The room numbering is somewhat bizarre, in that the number above a door indicates the room that you're currently in rather than the room you're about to go in to, but there is so much to see that you would need a couple of hours or more to really do the interior justice. The chapel in particular is a riot, with shields and cloths and paintings and stained glass and carvings all over the place. It certainly helps that I've picked the sunniest day yet of my trip, and the natural light inside is most welcome. Much of the interior is not original, having been recreated after a fire in 1859, but that does not detract from the splendour of the luxurious fittings. I notice that paintings of the Danish royal family from a couple of hundred years ago all seem to portray them with very large eyes - I don't know if this is a stylistic quirk or an anatomically correct representation.


I've had so little sun on this holiday so far that I don't dare linger inside the castle as much as I might have liked. There are some extensive gardens and a deer park adjoining the castle, and I hasten out to see them while the going is still good. The water features aren't working in the gardens but I can still appreciate the details, such as the bushes grown to outline the shape of a crown. Unfortunately the sun decides that it's had enough, and I begin to regret not seeing the grounds first instead of the interior. However the deer park is still highly enjoyable, not because of the deer (of which I see none) but because of the colourful autumn foliage.


Returning to Copenhagen, I stop off in the district of Bispebjerg to see the eye-catching concrete Gothic church Grundtvigs Kirke. Its plain interior only serves to emphasise the soaring vaults. Outside, birds wheel about its towers and in the setting sun its silhouette reminds me of an Indian temple.


Following my usual MO, I also visit Assistens Cemetery in the Nørrebro district. There's little fuss and adornment about most of the gravestones but the cemetery doesn't feel like merely a place in which to bury the dead. People sit around chatting on benches and joggers crunch along the tree-lined paths - apparently it's a popular sunbathing venue in summer. There are a number of luminaries buried here, including Hans Christian Andersen and Niels Bohr, though there are umpteen signs for the former and not a sausage for the latter (though the owl on Bohr's funeral monument is distinctive). I see FRED written on quite a few graves but it's not a name, just the Danish word for "peace".


Another pleasant place to potter around is Frederiksberg Park, a mixture of trees, open spaces, and the ubiquitous joggers. I also see a group of hardcore athletes doing hill sprints near the park's palace, their exertions in stark contrast to the families wandering along with young children in strollers.


If it's possible, it seems as though the English language is even more a part of life in Copenhagen than it was in Stockholm. I see and hear English everywhere, with its usage in signs and shop names widespread - I encounter a burger joint called "Hot Buns", and find a bar with the slogan "You shake ass, we shake cocktails". It must be a bit of a nightmare for immigrants to either Sweden or Denmark, to have to learn not one but two languages, and it's not as if either Swedish or Danish is particularly close to English. A small illustration of this Sweden/Denmark/England connection comes in the form of Kenneth Branagh, who I see on Copenhagen's main shopping street, filming an episode of the (originally Swedish) TV series Wallander.


I'm no more tempted by bar hopping in Copenhagen than I was in Stockholm, but I do attempt to briefly take the temperature of the city on its main nights out. Friday night is ludicrously busy everywhere, and even at 9PM there are plenty of "refreshed" punters out and about. Saturday night is conspicuously less hectic, and in fact even during the daytime there aren't as many people around.


Foodwise, Danes are also keen on meatballs, here called frikadeller. I pop down the road from my hotel to Cafe St Petersborg to sample them, and note a few differences in the presentation - here they come with boiled potatoes, which beats pureed mash when it comes to mopping up stray gravy, and red cabbage is served instead of lingonberries. The serving size is also rather larger than in Stockholm. Though Denmark seems generally even more expensive than Sweden, this is perhaps the best value for money meal I have in either country.


My time in Copenhagen draws to a close all too quickly, and I'm left with the feeling that perhaps I should have taken a day or two from my Stockholm itinerary and reallocated them to here. However that would have flown against the general Internet consensus of the relative levels of interestingness of the two cities, so I don't think I could have known in advance that I would feel this way. I've liked Copenhagen a lot, despite its expense and crazy cyclists. But it's now time to head for Germany.


[I have some logistical information about visiting Copenhagen that is too dull to put in here - I'll add a link to my other blog when I have detailed it there.]

[I also took a lot more photos than just those shown here - you can see them at my Flickr account here.]

Posted by mohn 04:08 Archived in Denmark Tagged europe denmark copenhagen scandinavia Comments (0)

Thank you for the music

Walk in, dance out

overcast 8 °C

I've come to Stockholm because of a lifelong love affair. I'm here to visit ABBA the Museum, an extensive memorial to the group that opened in 2013. I would be here regardless of ABBA's somewhat maligned reputation in the mainstream media, but a bonus is that I'll get to wash away the bad taste of Pierce Brosnan roaring his way tunelessly through When All is Said and Done in the film Mammia Mia! Though the cast of that film looked as though they were enjoying themselves hugely, and it can't be denied that the film (and stage show) have rekindled interest in the group in recent years, I don't view ABBA as kitsch or cheesy. I'll grant that some (but not all) of their lyrics are on the banal side, but to me pop music has always been about music, not lyrics. If I want my brain to be stimulated by words, I'll read a book.


I was just a bit too young to catch ABBA live, with them splitting up before I had reached my teen years. Though my sister and I had all of their albums, I don't recall ever seeing the group even on TV, other than in music videos. It didn't help that I was living in Saudi Arabia, a country not known for its promotion of Western music, for half of their career. So, a bit like with the Beatles, another massively popular group that was before my time, my experience of ABBA was based almost entirely on listening to their music on a cassette. Unlike the Beatles, though, I loved ABBA's music then and still do now. Even as an adult, I've not been big on going to concerts, but of the four concerts I've been to in my life, two of them were by Bjorn Again, the ABBA tribute band.


I'm also here in order to continue my long-term project of visiting different European capitals. I actually have been to Stockholm once before, a stopover of several hours at the airport when flying between New York and London back in 2005 (the cheapness of the ticket made the detour worthwhile), but that doesn't really count. All I remember from those scant hours is marvelling at the exorbitant cost of a Diet Coke (that hasn't changed), and watching the staff move around the terminal on foot scooters.


The first company I worked for out of university had a Swedish branch, and it was the fervent wish of all my fellow new joiners to be seconded to that branch, convinced as we all were that the place was knee deep in statuesque blondes. Freshly arrived in the country, as I walk through the centre of Stockholm en route from the railway station to my hotel, the percentage of blondes does not appear to be appreciably higher than in Yorkshire, which I can't deny is a minor disappointment. But even taking into account that this is a capital city rather than the provincial English town in which I live, people are dressed smartly and with an eye on the conditions - there's none of the T-shirt bravado that pervades the Northeast of England in winter. There's also more of a cosmopolitan feel than I was expecting, with non-European faces in a minority but not a minuscule one.


With Stockholm (and Scandinavia in general) notorious for high prices, I'm lucky to have found a decent hotel room for only about £90 a night. It's an Art Nouveau construction in a prime location on Strandvägen, one of the city's most prestigious streets, neighbouring a number of other impressive buildings overlooking a small bay. On the way, I pass the old bank where, in 1973, a hostage situation led to the phenomenon called Stockholm Syndrome being named. Close to the hotel is a theatre outside of which stands a bronze statue of the late Swedish actress Margaretha Krook - for those with cold hands, the statue contains internal heating coils in order to keep its temperature at 37 °C.


My hotel room has some pleasant period furnishings, but I can't help mentally comparing it with the massive Premier Inn room I'd enjoyed at Manchester Airport prior to flying here - that was twice the space at half the price. One thing both rooms have in common though is a thick duvet, which is much too warm for me for this time of year. I have to sleep with limbs hanging outside of the bed so that I don't overheat. The door to my room opens the "wrong" way - into the corridor rather than into the room - though I will see this elsewhere throughout my stay, so it must be a Swedish design principle. The hotel supposedly is popular with people working in the film industry but, despite me sitting in the lounge most evenings drinking a beer, I don't see anyone familiar - the star-spotting will have to wait until Copenhagen (see next blog).


The receptionist tells me that I've picked the worst month in which to visit Stockholm and I soon see her point. It's a good temperature for walking around rather than taking public transport, but sunny days are few and far between. Even when the sun does put in an appearance, Stockholm is sufficiently far north that sunrise is late and sunset early, plus the sun doesn't rise particularly high in the sky so you can find yourself blinded if walking in certain directions. It's a challenging environment for taking photos.


More unsettling is the plight of pedestrians here. Along with the predictable movements of motor traffic and trams are more unpredictable dangers: jogging and cycling are both very popular, and joggers and cyclists can - and do - appear from any direction. These people aren't messing about either, with many cyclists going full pelt. Of course the residents of Stockholm are well used to such things and know how to avoid getting run over, but I'm not at all accustomed to it and, after a couple of close calls, I find myself checking nervously in every direction for two-wheeled terrors. It's slightly stressful to not be able to always assume that the pavement belongs to pedestrians only. Jaywalking is not illegal here but, with all these different road users to get used to, it becomes easier to just obey the signals. The amount of exercise going on around me in the shape of jogging and cycling no doubt also contributes to the general fitness of the average Stockholmare - I see very few fatties.


The city is spread over fourteen islands but they are so interconnected that you might not even notice some of the individual islands, though you are rarely far from water. Many of the ferry services seem to shut down over winter, but for getting around in the centre of the city you probably wouldn't want to take to the water anyway. There's plenty of public transport available but the city is generally walkable. The underground is worth a few trips simply because the different stations all have their own character and design.


I visit ABBA the Museum early in my stay. Just the thought of it, even though I have very little idea what it will be like, brings a smile of anticipation to my lips. And when I enter the place, that smile only broadens, with Waterloo thundering out of the PA system and setting my heart pounding. The museum itself is extremely comprehensive - not only does it give a chronological history of the group, with audiovisual exhibits every step of the way, but you can also see detailed backgrounds of each of the four members, tour costumes, numerous platinum/gold/silver discs, ABBA merchandise (including the clogs shown below), the helicopter from the Arrival album cover (see earlier in the blog), the original mixing desk from Polar Studios, and much else besides. I'm pleased to hear that Michael Tretow, ABBA's studio engineer, is a big fan of Two for the Price of One, one of my favourite tracks. With the group's music playing constantly, it's heaven to be immersed in those great tunes, even if it's half-term and the place is soon crawling with kids who have been dragged here by their parents. I'm sure I'm not the only visitor who leaves on a high, but the museum shop doesn't take full advantage of that by having only a modest range of gifts (I find literally just one pen, and even that is plain).


However no museum can ever explain why certain songs resonate with a particular listener, so while my visit has been excellent and I would certainly recommend the place to any ABBA fan, it's still a mystery to me why ABBA's music makes me feel emotions that just never arise when I listen to the Beatles or Bob Dylan or Led Zeppelin or Elvis Presley or the Beach Boys or any of the other groups/solo artists commonly mentioned among the greats. Perhaps some things are destined to be ineffable and perhaps that's no bad thing. I'm just grateful that we have their music.


The rest of my stay in Stockholm involves much walking around outside and in. Near ABBA the Museum is the Vasa Museum, dedicated to the Vasa, a large warship that sunk in the harbour on its maiden voyage in 1628. The main reason for its sinking was a design flaw that put its centre of gravity too high - its sister ship was built just one metre wider and went on to be one of the most successful ships in the Swedish navy. The Vasa was salvaged in the early 1960s and is a sight to behold. The ship is covered in ornate carvings and, though its immersion removed all the paint, there is a scale model that shows just how brightly coloured it would have been in its day - not my image of a warship at all.


Not far from the Vasa Museum is Skansen, an open-air museum and zoo that reminds me of the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History. It contains buildings from different eras from around the country, including a couple of excellent belfries and some Sami structures. I'm not really a zoo person, but I won't be venturing anywhere in the near future where I can see indigenous Swedish fauna so I take the opportunity to catch a glimpse of some moose, brown bears, lynx, and reindeer. From here I can see the nearby Gröna Lund amusement park, closed at this time of year and its rides motionless.


The central island Stadsholmen contains a concentration of sights. With much of Stockholm's architecture bearing more than a passing resemblance to that of other European capitals, I figure that the contents of its various palaces will also seem familiar and thus limit myself to just the Royal Palace. It doesn't disappoint, with ornately decorated rooms replete with paintings, tapestries, thrones, and OTT sculptures aplenty. Unfortunately the interior is dependent on natural light, and with little sunshine around it's rather gloomy inside, making it difficult to make out much detail. However I'm taken by the White Sea Hall, with its excellent trompe l'oeil ceiling suggesting a celestial horde in the sky above; Karl XI's Gallery, based on the Versailles Hall of Mirrors and where the Swedish Royal Family hosts a dinner for Nobel laureates; the Hall of State, an enormous affair with a ridiculous silver throne; and several rooms devoted to the various royal Orders, in one of which I see a medal for the "conscientious care of reindeers", only given to Sami people and only rarely at that.


In connection with the Royal Palace, I also visit the Treasury, containing crowns and maces and the like (though a guided tour taking place at the same time makes moving around rather difficult), and the Armoury, full of armour, weapons, and royal carriages. The Armoury also contains an exhibition comparing the palace intrigues of Elizabeth I of England, Erik XIV of Sweden, and - bizarrely - some character from Game of Thrones, a series that I've never seen (or read). Outside of the Armoury, I see an Estonian tour bus, improbably dotted with pictures of elephants, chameleons, and lemurs.


South of the Royal Palace is Gamla Stan, the Old Town, characterised by cramped streets and colourful, narrow buildings. It's also by far the most touristy place in Stockholm though not in an oppressive way. Inside the cathedral is an impressive sculpture of St George and the Dragon, partly made from moose horns.


To the west of the city centre lies the City Hall. a stylistically odd building that combines stars, balconies, gold naked statues, and a gold tomb among its various ornaments. Topped by three gold crowns, one of the national symbols of Sweden, the City Hall is best known internationally as the venue for the Nobel banquet, which follows the prize-giving. The place is awash with Russian tour groups when I visit.


Not far north from my hotel is the Historical Museum, where I spend a couple of hours catching up on Swedish history. One exhibit concludes that any collective notion of Swedishness has only existed for about a century, making it a rather younger country than you might think. The Gold Room lives up to its name in spades. I'm both worried and intrigued by the cloakroom, which appears to have no security whatsoever, but my coat is still hanging there when I finish my visit.


I don't spend much time in Södermalm, a trendy district on an island of the same name, just to the south of Gamla Stan. However some of the best cityscapes of central Stockholm can be seen from Fjällgatan, an elevated street on its northern edge. I go there twice, once during the day and once by night, but the night-time view is less interesting than I would have hoped.


I take one trip outside of central Stockholm, to the Woodland Cemetery (Skogskyrkogården) south of the city. There are no ostentatious tombs here, with small, plain gravestones the order of the day. Even that of its most famous resident, Greta Garbo, is only remarkable because of the number of votive candles in front of it. What makes the place is its very tranquil setting amongst hundreds of trees, producing a serenity that was no doubt part of the reason why it was given a UNESCO World Heritage listing.


Swedish cuisine may not be universally lauded but I go to town on one of its mainstays - meatballs. Known as köttbullar in Swedish (which is confusingly pronounced with a sh sound rather than a k at the beginning), they are usually served in gravy with pureed mash, lingonberries, and pickled cucumber. I try them at a number of restaurants around Stockholm, including the atmospheric Pelikan, and conclude that there are definitely worse things to have for a de facto national dish. I'm assuming that it's in one of these dark restaurants where one or more mosquitoes gives me a dozen or so bites on my leg - after being nibbled in Salzburg in October last year, I'm no longer surprised that I attract mosquitoes out of season and in countries where you wouldn't expect them. I also try a cinnamon bun (kanelbulle), which is a favourite Swedish snack, but all it does is remind me that I'm not mad keen on cinnamon. With no Japanese restaurants in the town where I live, I also take the opportunity to visit a ramen restaurant, where the ramen contains the most, and largest, slices of pork I've ever seen in a ramen.


One factor that makes Stockholm such an easy place to travel around is that almost everyone speaks English - not just young people or educated people, but pretty much everyone. I only have language trouble twice in my stay, once with a server in a cake shop in Gamla Stan (of all places, given how touristy it is) and once with a member of staff at the station, but on each occasion they immediately dig out an English-speaking colleague. I try not to assume that everyone will speak English, and initially preface my interactions with the Swedish phrase for "Do you speak English?", but this seems to cause confusion more often than not and eventually I stop using it. I hear English spoken everywhere, even amongst people who seem to be local, and sometimes I hear Swedish conversations into which bits of English are slipped. Signs and adverts make use of English. It's strange that a country whose native language seems much further away from English than, say, French does, should be one where nearly everyone speaks English. And of course my schoolboy sense of humour is intrigued by the preponderance of farts, slags, and sluts in the local language.


There are various Swedish stereotypes that I read about, though not all of them are backed up by the empirical evidence of my stay. Apparently Swedes have an extreme liking for preserving their personal space but, being non-confrontational, won't make you aware of the fact. So it's a no-no to sit next to someone on the bus if spare double-seats are available, nor should you stand close to someone at a bus-stop. I don't notice this myself but perhaps this is due to such unwritten rules being suspended in Stockholm, which has a high population density by Swedish standards. A more obvious difference to the UK is that there is a great deal of tolerance for children - when I visit the Armoury at the Royal Palace, the number of strollers clogging up the place would have Brits tutting and shaking their heads in exasperation, but here there is only patience.


From a tourist point of view, most sights don't open before 10AM or even 11AM in some cases, which means that it's impossible to make an early start. Visiting at this time of year, which is essentially the beginning of the off-season, also means that some sights have reduced opening hours or may not be open at all. Stockholm seems to be further than the UK along the route to a cashless society, as I see several places (such as the shop at ABBA the Museum) that only accept cards.

From a personal point of view, Stockholm is the first city in which I decide to rely on Google Maps for navigation. I have a Moto G phone which can cache Google Maps for all of Stockholm - I do the caching via the Wifi in my hotel, after which I don't need a phone signal. I can't describe how much easier it is to whip the phone out of my pocket to check on my whereabouts, rather than have to pull out a map. I don't need to rely on finding street signs to tell me what street I'm on, I don't have to fight with a folded piece of paper in the wind and the rain, and looking at a phone is such a natural thing to do in a capital city that I don't look like an obvious tourist. The main downside is that using Google Maps will erode my already poor sense of direction, but its ease of use is so seductive. On top of that, I also find that unless the light conditions are poor then my phone can also take passable photos, which means I don't have to dig my camera out of my bag. This is a major change in how I travel.

Stockholm nightlife has a good reputation but these days I feel as though I'm too old and losing too much hair to want to go out to bars and clubs on my own. The centre doesn't feel dangerous at night so I spend my evenings wandering its streets in the dark, finishing up with a beer back at the hotel.

In total I spend a week in Stockholm, and though it's pleasant and safe and civilised and generally easy to get by in, it doesn't particularly grab me and that's nothing to do with how expensive everything is. One thing I'm increasingly finding with European cities is that there are many similarities between them, courtesy of historical continent-wide cultural movements as well as events through the ages that have affected Europe in its entirety. As such, the cities that I've visited most recently all contain echoes of ones I've seen previously, which can perhaps make them seem less novel and hence less interesting. I would no doubt find more variety if I visited smaller cities and towns that had not been in the front line of historical change, but there are various reasons why I'm not doing that. ABBA the Museum, in particular, and also the Vasa Museum have been highlights but I don't think I needed an entire week here.

So, channelling the spirit of ABBA, it's now time for Another Town, Another Train hence I will say So Long to Stockholm and begin to look forward to my Arrival in Copenhagen.

[I have some logistical information about visiting Stockholm that is too dull to put in here - I'll add a link to my other blog when I have detailed it there.]

[I also took a lot more photos than just those shown here - you can see them at my Flickr account here.]

Posted by mohn 12:40 Archived in Sweden Tagged stockholm sweden europe scandinavia Comments (0)

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