Day 1. First Impressions

I truly believe in first impressions. They set the background, the tone, and whats more they last in ones memory.

Neither of us have really had time to think much past actually getting to Stockholm. Many people have told us Stockholm is a beautiful city and Sweden is a lovely country, however I don’t know much about either. So my knowledge is somewhat stereotypically limited to the following; Aba, tall blonde people, long days in the summer, long dark cold nights in the winter, and it is bloody expensive. The next few days, weeks, years may change that, but only time will tell.

Descending into Stockholm this morning, the plane banked steeply over the city. Below, the historic streets of Gamla Stan lay nestled enclosed on their little island, the rest of the city clung to the banks of the various inlets. It looked… well, like I had been told… beautiful. Further afield the island studded Stockholm Archipelago lay, it’s thousands of islands just dying to be explored and by the looks of it – conquered! OK, so perhaps the Vikings had long since sorted out the conquering bit.

The passenger next to me was a keen mountain-biker and runner and although he had left Stockholm for a small town far away from the city life 5 years ago, he was enthusiastic about it as a big city in the mind of someone who likes the outdoors… which was encouraging to say the least. The last thing either Tina or I wanted was a ‘big city’ with limited access to an outdoor living.

Stockholm Arlanda Airport was quiet, clean, and efficient and appeared reasonably under utilised giving it a quiet, spacious feel, as was the train into the city. I transferred to the T-line of the tunnelbana (a great word seemingly a mix of English and German, a pattern that seems evident in a lot of Swedish – if only I could speak German!), and before too long I found myself arising from the depths of Stockholm to a beautiful clear day (temperature a pleasant 20^o) in the suburb of Risne, a far cry from the damp cloudy and chilly days of Southern Germany the last week and a half.

I had booked an apartment over the internet in New Zealand months ago and was pleased to easily find it in amongst a series of widely spaced four story flats interspersed with large tracts of grass, trees and children’s playgrounds. Mike – the apartment owner, an amiable bloke, met me and showed me around. I think it will serve our purpose well for the next month while we search for something more permanent. A walk around the area later in the afternoon confirmed the amount of open space, and the amazingly quiet neighbourhood. I think Ana is going to love running around here and making things a bit noisier.

In need of food I went off to the supermarket. I was slightly shocked by the cost – 321 SEK (approximately NZ$60) for not a lot.

321 SEK worth of grub

Making a coffee back at the apartment I found my first mistake. I had purchased a litre of fil (sour milk). Not bad tasting but I didn’t dare put it in the coffee. I had also purchased some inlagd sill (pickled herring). A whole rack of jars had stood out at me and I couldn’t resist giving them a go as many people had told me about how unappetising they were. To be honest, I quite liked them, although I’m not too sure how acceptable it would be to eat them for lunch in the office! I’m also unsure where these particular herring were caught but I have heard that Sweden has a special dispensation from the European Union to catch and eat fish from the heavily contaminated Baltic Sea, such is the country’s appetite for pickled herring and alike. Probably best not to eat them on a daily basis then.

As I write this, it is 9 o’clock in the evening and the light is beginning to fade outside. It rises at 4.10 am tomorrow morning, so I had better get some sleep before it wakes me up!