Stockholm

Everything you have heard about the women in Sweden is true. Everything.

Never, ever, ever have I seen such a concentration of gorgeous women in my life. Sitting in the station in either Copenhagen or in Sweden will provide you with hours of quality entertainment as you watch solid tens walk by.

Now that that has been said, I will tell you a little bit of what happened in Stockholm...

When I arrived at my hostel, a conversation took place that went something like this:

Hostel Guy: So are you hear for Pride?
Me: For what?
Hostel Guy: Gay Pride weekend is this weekend in Stockholm. That's why all the hostels are full.

(At this point a man dressed as Zorro with leather chaps walks by - No joke)

Me: Oh. Well....Alright. Ummm.
Hostel Guy: Anyways, here's your key.

Soon after that I met some folks from Germany who had completed their planned camping trip early and decided to spend their remaining time in Stockholm. After eating dinner at the hostel we all went out and walked around the city at night. Stockholm has a lot of bridges and islands, so at night it's really a sight to see.

The next day I slept in really late. Not sure why, but maybe it had something to do with the continously bad weather. I was planning on going to the Vasa Museum - a large museum dedicated to the Swedish ship that sank 400 years ago, but by the time I got up and took the metro and the ferry to the island, there were only two hours left and a massive line to get in. So I wandered around the Island, checking out a cool park and the Nordic Museum instead. I also found an aquarium with a really cool entrance. That entrance alone enticed me to spend over an hour inside looking at their fake rain forest (complete with fake rain).

When I got back to the hostel I met up with my roomates (three guys from Switzerland) who were planning to go out that night, so I decided to join them. After eating some dinner (one of them is a chef) we pre-gamed in the room, sang a rousing version of "Ob-la-di-Ob-la-da" and then headed out for quite a night. Sometime during the night I gave them my key (I still don't know why) and we got seperated, so I ended up locked out of the hostel at 7 in the morning, ringing the doorbell incessantly in hopes that someone would get up and let me in. A guy around the age of 65 walking past in the street did notice my situation, and offered to give me a hand.

Guy: Are you locked out?
Me: Yeah, I don´t have my key.
Guy: Are you here for the festival?
Me: (Far too rudely...I regret it) NO. No, I'm just...here.
Guy: Hmmm, well, let me see.

So he starts pressing the doorbell (like I had not thought of this already) and then jamming random buttons on the keypad in hopes that it would just open itself up if he continued to jam the numbers 2, 7 and the "#" symbol. He realized after about two good minutes of pressing random buttons that it wasn't going to work and then invited me for coffee. I told him it would be better for me to keep trying then to stay up another four hours until reception arrived, and he turned to leave, apparently insulted. I thought he was gone until I heard a voice from down the street.

"I am gay"

At this I just slowly turn my head to the side and wait for him to say something else.

"And I'm old so I have no interest in you. I just was offering you some coffee because you have a very long time to wait. I hope you survive."

I'm a little stunned at this, because when I told him I think it would be better if I stayed and waited I never even considered he was gay. So I kind of mutter a feeble "OK, well thanks man" and resume my door-bell ringing. Two minutes later, someone opens up.

The next morning I get up to go to the Vasa Museum, but as I am walking there I noticed that the streets were blocked off and people were crowded all over the place, waiting. I asked someone what the deal was and they told me.

How could I have forgotten so quickly? The gay pride parade. Always good for a laugh and can provide hours of entertainment. But I wouldn't have time for both. I would either have to watch the gay pride parade or go see the Vasa. Culture vs. Entertainment. After a half an hour of debating with myself, the Vasa won out.

The museum was great. In case you don't know the story of the Vasa, you can read about it here. It's better than reading me ramble on about it. It was tough to take good pictures because it's so big and you're so close, but I did manage to take a few.

I went out that night again with the Swiss guys and ended up watching the sun rise over Stockholm with a Swedish girl named Sandra. I didn't have time to enjoy the sunrise or her company for much longer though because my train left at ten. So I said goodbye to Sandra and to Stockholm and began my travelling marathon to Amsterdam a few hours later.