Day 8 - Stockholm, Sweden (July 8th)

The weather forecast on our daily itinerary said 68 degrees and Janet thought she'd better bring a coat. I could tell from the morning heat that it was going to be at least 90 degrees and I was right. The MS Rotterdam was small enough to dock in Stockholm's harbour so it was only a twenty-minute walk into Gamla Stan, Stockholm's Old Town. With its quaint shops and winding cobblestone streets, Gamla Stan reminded me much of Tallinn. What made this one unique though was that the town square housed the location where Nobel Peace prize decisions are made, not to mention the freakiest gargoyle fountain we had ever seen (pic below). We heard that the subway system was an artistic endeavor worth exploring but the 30 Kronor fare (4.50CDN) suggested that we might prefer to get some exercise.

Across the bridge into new town, the price of t-shirts dropped considerably. The same t-shirt found in Gamla Stan for 120SEK ($20CDN) sold here for 60SEK ($10CDN). Even the outrageously priced ever present Pippi Longstocking souvenirs were cheaper. 200SEK ($30CDN) would have bought a doll the size of my hand. Hot Dog stands were plentiful on the main shopping drag and I decided to try the most extravagant one I could find. It was called a Tunnbrodsrulle Raksallad (pic below right), a Hot Dog wrapped in pita bread surrounded by mayonnaise, peppers and alfalfa sprouts for a pricey 40SEK($6.50CDN). Livelier and less touristy than Gamla Stan, downtown Stockholm felt more authentic. People dressed well, were mostly tall, slender and blonde. If we saw a fat person, it was more likely a North American tourist. In the shopping and business district, the architecture seemed geometric in style giving off a 60's era vibe not found in the other Scandinavian cities we visited (pic below left). We noticed that the prices for vodka were higher than any of the Baltic Ports we visited and liquor here was government controlled. The 1 litre bottle of Absolut that I purchased for 200 Kronor (35CDN) made me think I should have picked up an extra bottle in Estonia.

As much as we wanted to get the exercise, it was too hot and much more convenient to take the blue tourist trolley from downtown to Djurgarden, Stockholm's pastoral island of tourist attractions. We didn't have enough Kronor in our pockets to see both the Vasa Museum and Stansen so we flipped a coin. Vasa Museum won out. But none of this mattered when we realized that the price listed in our guidebook was grossly out of date and that we had just enough for a beer and a ferry ride back to Gamla Stan. We did squeeze our noses to the windows for a muted look but still regret not making the effort for the full tour as reviews from fellow cruise passengers were on the whole quite laudatory. The irony of it all is that I found some supplementary Kronor in my bottom pocket just as we were getting back on the ship. It obviously wasn't meant to be. Not knowing what to do with the extra Kronor, which amounted to about $6CDN, I combed the ferry terminal next door looking for someone who could use it. I must have looked suspicious pacing the terminals and I was concerned that it might be an offensive offering. I startled a weathered and nervous looking man who looked about 40 but was likely much younger. I explained that I was leaving Sweden and I could not use the money. "Would you take it? ", I said. He was the first Swede I met who didn't speak any English but the peace sign he gave me in return, made me feel that it was appreciated and not a thankless gesture.

Despite the breathtaking scenery that awed us while we sailed out of the archipelago, dinner was tense. Janet and I had been out on Promenade deck talking with Geoff and Shelley from Tucson, had lost track of time and didn't turn up for dinner until quarter to 9. Thankfully they don't lock the doors even though they warn you they will. Marty was unhappy about something and it didn't help matters that Janet was being aloof. I didn't realize til halfway through the meal that she was wearing sunglasses and hadn't given an explanation to our dinner guests. "Bloodshot eyes," was all she offered. I guess she didn't care whether or not they thought she was a lush or that the only sleep she could get were the few winks copped out on deck. Marty continued to roll his eyes at Janet throughout the meal, hide his face and sing a melancholy Yiddish ode every time his comments went over her. It was clear that Marty wanted to be back at the Captain's table with different tablemates. So to make it easier for him, we accepted an invitation back to our old table where Pearl and Alan were breaking out the champagne to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. There we stayed for the rest of the trip.