Stockholm in a Day

Stockholm is a small city when compared to the urban sprawl of most metropolises. Sweden's capital city is packed with personality, though. My cousin, Tina, acted as tour guide as I hit some of the highlights of the city that I had previously missed. Although I had been a tourist, plus one (shout out Seth!), not more than a few weeks ago, it was raining and I was jet-lagged so I missed a couple of things to see here. One thing that I missed was an area called Gamla Stan, which is Stockholm's old town. Tina and I walked around the narrow medieval type streets and had coffee in the town square. Tina and I both enjoy people watching and town squares are always a prime location.

Gamla Stan has a constant flow of people and they are all tourists, save for the workers. I always like figuring out which group of people is a tour group. These are always easy to find because they are always holding up some random object so that their group can identify them as the guide. Some hold up umbrellas, some hats, others hold up a shoe, or a bouquet of flowers. If all those sound like a bunch of random shit to hold up, well it is. I have no idea why someone who is a professional tour guide wants to identify themselves to their customers by using whatever they grabbed on the way out of the door, but they do. If I were a tour guide I would have a bunch of those aluminum balloons made with my face on them, maybe even a thumbs up for good measure. Unfortunately I'm not a tour guide. I could still get the balloons made, though, just for good measure.

After we touched on our Stockholm sightseeing Tina was nice enough to take me to a soccer game. It was awesome. As we turned the corner I got my first glimpse of European soccer fans. The pubs surrounding the stadium were packed with soon to be drunk soccer (football on this side of the pond) fans. Everyone had their team colors on, having a good time waiting to go into the game. We stepped into the stadium and took our seats, six rows up from the grass. The game started a bit slow but ended with a bang as it was tied, then AIK, the team we were rooting for, scored a last minute goal to win the game.

The actual sporting event is only half the experience, though. There is a section of a few hundred guys that chant and sing the entire game. I was impressed that they were able to keep it up for the whole 90 minutes. They even had a huge bass drum. I always wonder how guys get drums by security, but I'm guessing security just waves them through figuring that if the guy with the bass drum does something illegal it will be easy to find him, on a count of the bass drum. Sports fans in the stands at sporting events are just the best. Sometimes I think people are rabid sports fans just so they have an excuse to curse loudly, drink ridiculous amounts of beer, and have a reason to drink ridiculous amounts of beer before 5pm on a Saturday. Whatever the reason may be, sports fans are some of the best people to observe in their natural habitat. The game was a great way to round out my tour of Stockholm.

The Applefabriken

If you came to Stockholm and looked up what there was to do you would most likely not find the Applefabriken on any lists. Not even Rick Steves would have the Applefabriken in his book, and Rick Steves knows all. That is why I love when I can hang out with people who live in the cities that I travel to, because they do not do what tourists would normally do. I like it even more when the people that I get to see the sites with are my family. Today my family took me to the Applefabriken, which translates to "apple factory." After a picturesque drive through the Swedish countryside we arrived at the Applefabriken. The Applefabriken is a little farm that has an organic farm with a small shop and cafe. The cafe out in front of the shop looks like the Shire from the Lord of the Rings. There is a garden in the cafe area, which is surrounded by green grass and hedges then the garden adds a burst of color that makes the place feel as if it is right out of a storybook.

What do you do at an apple factory? Well, in case you didn't know, apples are not produced in a factory, implying that they are man made, they are grown on trees, so the "factory" is a play on words. That was sarcasm not an insult to your intelligence, but I guess pointing that was an insult to your intelligence. Anyway, back to the story here, so at the apple factory they have an incvredible array of apple juices, jams, drinks, as well as other fruit/vegetable products. I had a few of their pastries, some tea, and a spot of rhubarb lemonade. All of them were delicious. I must say that the ambience of the garden was an especially delightful addition to the presentation of the mid-afternoon snack.

The Applefabriken has another unique quality; it is a place where travelers can come work off their room and board. Travelers who do not have enough money to live in hotels or even hostels can come and work on the Applefabriken farm and in return the nice folks who run the farm give these travelers a place to stay and three square meals. They feed them more than just apples too. I asked.

I am soaking up as much time with my family while I am here so today we traveled with the little ones. It is so much fun having kids around because they just see the world so differently. When I see a beautiful garden I am awed by the bursts of colors offered by the different flowers

and the kids couldn't wait to run through the garden, which gave a perfect setting for a game of hide and go seek. I also love the sound of kids laughing. I am not able to communicate well with my little cousins because they speak Swedish and my cousin Tina translates for me, but then you have to take into account that they are 4 and 10, so by the time Tina translates they have moved on. I found that there are things that I can do that transcend verbal communication, like peek-a-boo. For nearly the entire car ride I played peek-a-boo with my little cousin Eveline. I don't know who was having more fun, me or her, but we were both laughing hysterically.

The day rounded out with a swim in oneof Sweden's ten million lakes. Sweden actually has over 97, 500 lakes. That number is not an exaggeration, look it up. Freaking ridiculous. It makes swimming in the summer time very easy, though. Today I felt like a Swede, minus the genetically beautiful face, and tall, muscular, nordic body, and the language. Yep, I blended right in today.

An Amusing Park

Tivoli Gr na Lund is an amusement park smack dab in the middle of Stockholm. Today I went with my cousin Tina, Marten, and Marten and Nina's daughters. I felt like an adult at an amusement park for the first time in my life as I went on the kid rides with my little cousins. I really had no adult duties in the form of saying no or making potty runs, partly due to the language barrier (they speak Swedish) but mostly due to their father being there. I think of it as renting children. I get to have fun and play with them then when things get real I look over at their dad. It's a great deal for me.

It was my first time as a full grown adult riding the smaller children rides and I must say that kids rides were not made to fit adults. It was actually a fun experience spending the day on kids rides because it is hilarious watching dads and moms squeeze into these little rides and still act like they are having fun even though they are so obvioulsy uncomfortable. I was laughing at the children that are so involved in their own world while riding the rides that they don't even notice their parents sitting next to them cramped into a fiberglass elephant spinning in circles.

Gr na Lund is a fun little park. I was surprised by how many rides and attractions that they were able to pack into the middle of Sweden's capital. The park was a ton of fun, mostly because it was fun for me to hang out with my little cousins. I was able to get on most of the rides except for "Insane." It is one of the main attractions there so we waited in line and as soon as we got to the front of the line the ride started to have problems. We waited as they said it would only take a few minutes to fix the ride. After about 30 minutes the engineers were still working on the problem and as I looked over and saw four workers flipping through what looked like an instruction manual I realized that even if they told us the problem was fixed I would probably be insane to ride it. My first foray into Swedish amusement parks was a blast.

A Strange Journey to a Familiar Place

To get to Sweden I took the ferry. At first it sounded kind of pleasing what with the water, a cruise liner filled with people, a sundeck. The reality was much different, however. Let me preface this by the story of how I finally arrived at the ferry. My day started at 4 in the morning when I got up to catch my 6 o'clock train. I walked through Krakow with my back pack, made it to the train station, and got into my train cabin with a punk rocker guy from Warsaw. This was all no problem. Except that the punk rocker was incredibly popular so his phone rang every five minutes, which meant that I woke up from my train nap to the sound of this guys ringer. His phone ringer was hilarious. It was an english speaking death metal band and it wasn't until a few times through hearing it that I realized the lyrics were saying "I would F*** the ground, I would F*** the sky, I would F*** a lion but I won't F*** you." It was an inviting ringer and a comical way to come out of a train nap.

Upon my arrival to Gdansk I stepped off of the train, out of the train station, and into a completely alien world. Since Seth has gone I no longer have the aid of the inimitable Rick Steves, so I was mapless and clueless as to where I needed to go to catch this ferry. As I stepped out of the train station I saw water, so I just started walking to the water. Sometimes my body works independently of my brain and this was one of those times. My brain thought, "hey, maybe we should find out where we are going before we just wast our time galloping around a city we have never even heard of." My feet just plowed away. After I got to the water I realized what a ridiculous idea walking there was so I headed back to the train station. At the train station there was this handy kiosk with a sign that said "Tourist Informatin."

The gentleman there informed me that the ferry port was 6 kilometers away, or roughly 3.5 miles. Walking was no longer an option. I took the tram to the stop that mister information told me to get off at and got off. The tram stop let me off smack dab in the middle of a residential district. No port. My window of catching the ferry was closing as well. The ferry leaves at 6pm and there is one every two days, so if I missed this one I was screwed. I walked around the houses for an hour, which took me up to 4:30pm. Finally I thought to get back on the tram thinking that maybe I just got off on the wrong stop and that there must be a tram stop that lets you off right at the port. Common sense would have one believe this. No dice. I rode the tram for twenty minutes and saw the same neighborhood twice (the tram goes in a circle that is about half a mile long, it is the most assinine public transportation design I have ever seen). Finally I got back off at the stop mister information gave to me and began to get a bit frantic. It was now 5 o'clock and I didn't even have a clue as to where to catch this damn boat. As I walked through

the neighborhood that I have now become quite familiar with I saw a human being (rare in these parts) and I ran up to him and bombarded him with English. Luckily he spoke enough to tell me that I was near where I needed to go, just needed to go around a couple of corners and I would see a huge cruise liner that said "Ferry" on the side. I thanked him immensly while cursing mister crappy information and speed walked toward my destination. The other thing that I did not have in my favor was that the trees in this particular neighborhood are all thirty feet high and overgrown. This is great for shade and nature and all that, but terrible for lost Ameicans looking for a huge boat.

Finally I found my way through this industrial port via a dirt trail that led to the ticket booth for the ferry. I tell no lies when I say that this is the only way to get to the ticket booth. I literally had to traverse the wilderness through an industrial park to get to the ticket booth. The whole time I felt as if I was trespassing. What the F? I would not take my family through there. Anyway, I made it with 9 minutes left to spare.

Once on the boat I walked around to get my bearings. I quickly realized that it was going to be a long boat ride. I was the only person on the entire boat who spoke English. Awesome. The crew only spoke a few words as well. Please note that I am not saying this as a dig against non-English speaking countries not speaking English. If anything I have been embarassed going to countries where I can only say "hello" in the native tongue. I was just lonely not having a single person to talk to. It is difficult walking around a place and not understanding a single word and no one being able to understand you. I tried to have a couple of gesticulated conversations, but to no avail. Eventually I gave up and went to my seat to sleep.

After all of that I ended up back in Stockholm and my cousin Tina was waiting at the docks for me. It was great to see a familiar face after feeling so unbelievably anonymous for the past day. It was an experience, though, and I am glad that I took a ferry instead of the plane because sitting on the deck watching the sunset on the Baltic Sea was a beautiful sight. It was the only time on the boat that I felt small in a good way. Here is a picture of my new baby cousin as well. She was one of the reasons I came back to Stockholm. What can I say, I am a sucker for babies.

Schindler's Factory

I made my way through the industrial section of Krakow to find Oskar Shindler's enamelware factory. Schindler, as most know, saved over 1200 Jewish people by employing them in his factory. Schindler was able to negotiate a special label for his factory that gave his workers near immunity from concentration and death camps. Many people come to Krakow to visit Auschwitz and Birkenau, two of the most notoriuos concentration/death camps that the Nazis formed. I passed these up in favor of visiting Schindler's factory. I was much more interested in the better parts of human nature than the atrocities we are capable of.

I made the two mile walk to the factory only to find that it is closed on Mondays. Shit. It was still moving. There is a plaque that says "Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire." The quote is written in English, Polish, and Hebrew. The factory itself is nothing much to speak of. It is interesting that tucked into this dark corner of the industrial district (there is a car junkyard on one side and a textile factory adjacent) is a building that saved hundreds of lives. The walk back into town was interesting as well. Like I had said before, Krakow has not changed much, definitely not since the 40s when Schindler's factory would have been in full swing. I could not help but think of how terrifying it must have been to walk home from work for those employed by Schindler.

Krakow really can feel like a time warp in some areas as well. If you find the right street where there aren't any cars parked (not even on the sidewalk) and there are a scarce amount of people, it feels like you are in a movie from the 30s.

The rest of the day I spent with a couple of guys that I met at the hostel and we went antiquing at the flea market. As un-manly as that might sound, they have all sorts of crazy stuff there. For 2 euro you could buy a 6 inch tall bust of Stalin or Lenin, a must for any classy mantle. I do not understand some items in flea markets. Why would one want to buy a photo album of other peoples family pictures? It is beyond me.

So Many Pigeons

Pigeons in Europe are a different breed. They are brave, overfed, and arrogant. Pigeons will fly right at you, then change direction at the last minute and I swear that I can hear them chuckle as they fly by after I duck down. I love all living things, but just like annoying people in the check-in line at the airport, I don't necessarily "like" all living things. As I was walking in the second largest medieval square in all of Europe here in Krakow I was wading ankle deep in pigeon. The little bastards just coo around with their head bobbing and chest out, bold as can be. Here in Poland they have vendors who sell bird feed so that the kids can join the fun and increase their chances of Avian Flu by having a pigeon eat out of their hand. I was just waiting for someone to make a sudden move or some angry child to run through the square and scare all the pigeons into flight so that we could all get dumped on. Luckily my fears were layed to rest as I made it through the day without being made into a pigeon toilet.

Besides the pigeons, though, Krakow is an otherwise beautiful city. It is definitely charming in a unique way. The world wars left Krakow in relatively good condition since nary a battle was fought here and it was missed by most of the bombing raids from both sides of the war. Krakow is in a bit of a time warp becuase of this, which gives it a different style.

I have not quite figured out how to warm up to Polish people yet. Most everyone I have met seems to be all business. I smile a lot when I talk, mostly because I am just a heppy guy, and when I say something in english I get the same reaction, which tends to be loud Polish and quick hand gestures. For example, today I went to the market to get some pineapple juice and as I got to the counter I showed my credit card and asked if they accept it. I used my best english combined with some pleasant hand gestures and, of course, I flashed the smile. What I got back was a forty something Polish woman yelling and flailing her arms as if I had just stolen her newborn child. While she was in mid-flail I placed my card in my pocket, got out some cash, and placed it gently on the table. As she made change she smiled and said something in Polish. My eyes were stuck wide open and I gave her a blank stare as I backed out of the shop, not fully comprehending what had just transpired. Maybe she was angry at the pigeons and I was her scapegoat.