Tomorrow sees the 50th anniversary of King Carl XVI Gustaf being crowned king of Sweden. While there will be lots of celebrations in Stockholm tomorrow (I guess) today saw an unheralded and very small galley approach the palace steps and deposit a couple of women amid a lot of pomp and circumstance. I figured it was Queen Silvie and Princess Victoria returning from fika on a nearby island.
However, I was wrong. A load of dignitaries had been arriving over the last few days in order to help the royals celebrate his golden jubilee. Incidentally, it makes him the longest serving Swedish king ever. The pair of women were, perhaps, a couple of seafaring princesses from some other Scandinavian royal house.
We watched the very slow approach of the galley as we made our way along the harbour towards Skeppsholmen. We were not alone. A lot of other people were taking photos and just standing in solemn confusion as to what was happening. It was all jolly fun.
We were in Stockholm to take the obligatory Stromma tour of the archipelago, with the necessary and delicious lunch. And, as the weather apps had predicted, it was a lovely day. Which was very handy as we had to walk from Skeppsholmen to Djurgården because the trams were packed solid.
We managed to squash Sharon and Jud onto one but we decided a walk was the better option. Sharon and Jud were going to the Vasa so their time was a bit taken up while we were just roaming around the waterfront.
In fact, we stopped at the Glasshouse Bar for a mid-walk drink. I visited the same place for a light lunch last summer and we almost sat in the same seats. Erich the barman poured me an IPA and Mirinda an iced latte which we took outside. It was glorious sitting in the sun.
Having adequately refreshed, we continued on our way only to discover a plaque to a Nobel prizewinning author which Mirinda almost translated and a horizontal representation of Yggdrasil which doubles as somewhere to sit. In the centre is a stump with a big red snake curled around it. It’s all very cool.
Odin said there were lots and lots of serpents beneath the great tree, so I can only imagine this was one of them. There are also carved representations of the various animals that also inhabit the tree.
Having reached Djurgården, we walked around the foreshore, where Mirinda was asked directions from a woman. She was either Japanese or Chinese and had very few words in English or, I’m guessing, in Swedish.
She typed into Google Translate asking ‘Where is the boat?’ She then waved her green SL card. Clearly she wanted the ferry, so Mirinda pointed her in the right direction.
She set off but only managed to walk a few metres when she stopped and decided to go back in the opposite direction. Mirinda intercepted her and indicated where she had to go. This wasn’t the first time she’d been asked for directions today.
Outside the Opera House, a woman asked her where she was. She wanted to go to a church on Gamla Stan. Mirinda didn’t know where the church was, but she pointed across the road, showing her that Gamla Stan was just behind her.
She was being very helpful, like she normally is, a bit like the chap on the train into Stockholm who, upon hearing Mirinda and Sharon talking a little bit too loudly, informed us all that it was a quiet carriage and we should all just shut up. That was pretty rude, we thought.
Actually, he was ruder than that. He even put his fingers in his ears a little later when Sharon and Jud were talking to the ticket inspector. I suggested he’d been fast asleep when suddenly his dreams were invaded by a loud and boisterous group of Australians. He woke with a start and decided he had to tell us off.
Mind you, I forgot to thank him for letting us know we were in a quiet carriage given the signs indicating the fact, were very, very small. Probably to avoid waking anyone up.
But that was all a minor, though much laughed and talked about, event in an otherwise wonderful Stockholm day.
Our train trip home, in the noisy carriage, was loud and, pleasantly, uneventful.
He was very rude indeed. Most un-Swedish