My landing to Stockholm’s distant Skavsta airport was accompanied with necessary drama by John Grant’s Black Blizzard playing on Spotify. Through the clouds came a countryside aflame with the colours of Autumn, with additional synthesiser fanfare. Minutes later, a walloping wind buffeting the plane’s descent had Grant howling about eternal winters to soundtrack my terror. Bumpy landings and I don’t get on, but Sweden and I get on just fine. My third visit to Stockholm, once in the depths of winter, one in the middle of summer and now in Autumn confirms its standing as one of the most beautifully sighted cities. It is built on fourteen islands, so access to water and woodland is as easy as finding a cinnamon bun. Stockholm’s jewel in the crown is the spectacular archipelago of 25,000 islands heading east into the Baltic sea, where 50,000 holiday cottages dot the landscape. If you ever have the chance, board a ferry to one of the islands. You won’t regret it.
Stockholm is a perfectly proportioned capital, its size making it a haven for walkers if you don’t want to use the excellent public transport system. It’s less pretentious than London yet the occasional glimpse makes itself apparent whenever you see the sign saying “Stockholm: The capital of Scandinavia” which is hardly going to get the neighbours cheering you on. And come to think of it, all the coffee shops are as obsessed with damned filament lightbulbs and deconstructed brickwork as everywhere else. And the hair – so fussed over…but enough.
The old town, Gamla Stan, is where I head to first to meet my friend who recently secured a job in the city. We eat at a decent Thai restaurant where a meal of chicken satay, rice and salad and a coke comes to about £12. Sated on satay, exploring Gamla Stan and the more historic parts of Stockholm is a joy. Even under a gun metal sky, it lifts the spirits, but in Autumn sunshine, it is spectacular. The terracotta buildings of Gamla Stan are deeply atmospheric and the mixture of government and Royal buildings mixed with smaller residential buildings in a warren of streets makes for a great opportunity to wander aimlessly. I walked from the cosy cafe Fabrique on Lilla Nygatan towards the Royal Palace, all austere and somewhat clinical as all palaces seem to be. Some streets would lead you to believe that Stockholm’s main economy is tourist tat but it’s easy to find a quiet street to cut through if you can live without reindeer toys and t-shirts declaring your love for Swedes.
Across the Strömbron bridge and onto Södra Blasieholmshamnen leads you towards Skeppsholmen, home of the modern art museum, worth a visit just for the gallery shop. Galleries always have the best shops, and this one has a particularly good selection of posters of past exhibitions. The view from the Skeppsholmbron (Skeppsholmen bridge) is a delight. Standing in the centre of the bridge you will enjoy 360 degree views of the city and the water around you where I took a moment to just enjoy the view and relax. To be in a city centre, hearing horns blare and knowing hundreds of thousands of people are around you and yet feel completely alone is rather surreal.
The next day, in search of a cinnamon bun I could tell the grandkids about, I headed to Kafé Esaias on Drottninggatan. Heading north from Sergels Torg, the street is dreary at best and plain grimy for a long stretch until the central shopping district thins out. It is a reminder that city planners can really balls things up. Finally, I reach Kafe Esaias and feel that this cinnamon bun is well earned after all that urban decay. Good news – it’s one of the best cinnamon buns I have ever had. My grandkids will definitely be hearing about this cafe, and if I have to hire grandkids to tell my story, so be it. I sat in the cafe for a long while, enjoying the atmosphere and the coffee before working out what to do next. Then I sat a while longer and came to the realisation that I have a great aptitude for just sitting.
Forcing myself back into the city, I settled on a walk to the Vasa Museet – a museum dedicated to a ship that capsized and sunk on its maiden voyage in 1628. The walk takes you down Strandvägen, a picturesque boulevard that is part harbour and part esplanade. In the beautiful light of Autumn, Stockholm was ravishing and Strandvägen banished all thoughts of Drottninggatan from earlier in the day. Stockholm uses its waterfront exceedingly well and boats of all sizes are present, but the closer I got to the Vasa Museet the more it became clearer that only the mast of the boat was visible with the rest of it encased within a large building. It really is a fascinating museum, and I now get why people say it’s worth setting aside half a day for. Entry costs SEK130 (£11) but you get a seriously comprehensive museum which explains why the boat fell over as soon as it launched from Stockholm harbour, in slightly inclement weather. It’s a classic tale of pride, greed and ego overtaking common sense. Common sense would be making sure your boat has enough ballast to keep it on an even keel in a storm. Common sense would be to say to the King that the boat wasn’t ready, though King’s of old were never known for their gentle temperament. The boat had beautiful sculptures on it, all to add to its sense of greatness and when the cannons weren’t visible, you’d have mascarons of fierce lions staring you out. Seeing this up close is very special; time has been kind to the boat and the sculptures are remarkably detailed to this day.
Everything about the Vasa was about power and superiority, but this is also a story of human ingenuity. When the Vasa was rediscovered in the 1950s, they decided to lift it (apparently the filling it with ping pong balls or freezing it in a block of ice weren’t very practical) by spending two years digging tunnels underneath the hull and then slowly moving it to shallower waters using two pontoons. The museum has excellent visualisations of this, to show just how incredible the raising of the Vasa was. The reason that there’s anything resembling a ship left is because the Baltic is brackish and in these waters, a shipworm that would usually feast on the wood was not present. What’s left is sensational; indeed, I read that over 95% of the boat is original and the visitor is left with an intriguing point that this boat was one of a kind and had it successfully set sail, we wouldn’t be left with this incredible wreck to marvel at.
If the Vasa museet is Stockholm’s must see attraction, there are plenty of other museums and galleries still worth some of your time. I found the photography gallery, Fotografiska, to be a diverting spot for a couple of hours – of course it had a great shop attached and a brilliant location near the socialist utopia/concrete hell that is Slussen. Many people find the gallery by following the road that clearly leads to it, whereas I clambered over road works and found myself trapped by a cliff on one side and a metal barrier to the other, so don’t take that route. With a rotating selection of exhibitions, you’ll find the majority of the space taken up by a major exhibition with smaller displays on the upper levels. At SEK 120 (£10) it can’t possibly match up to Vasa museet, but the gallery does hold some impressive events to make a visit worthwhile.
My journey back to the airport included a last stroll from Sodermalm to Riddarholmen, with the wonderful Riddarholm Church as its focal point. Yet again, it is mildly surreal to be in the centre of a city that feels so quiet and close to nature. Despite some fairly calamitous attempts to turn the city into a concrete mess, it stills feels manageable in scale and somewhere ideal for fans of walking. In fact, there’s a Swedish phrase “Lagom är bäst”, which is translated as “the right amount is best”. Perhaps this is a good way to sum up the reason that Stockholm is such an attractive proposition.
With its waterfront and islands, Stockholm easily offers up one of Europe’s most beautiful capitals and with the added bonus of the archipelago, the question isn’t are you going to visit, but when are you going to visit?
This is worth the flight alone.