Public transport explained by a pigeon

Quite often, on the buses, the driver will be a woman. This is so commonplace that I’m never surprised. Things have not always been that way. In Stockholm, in 1958, there weren’t any female bus drivers until the amazing Margit Claesson became the first.

It wasn’t universally popular. Some male commuters even refused to get on her bus, which, if you ask me, seems a bit self-defeating as a protest. Some of the male drivers were worse, though. One thing they did was to pull the handbrake on too tightly, making it very difficult for Margit to release. Such childish nonsense did not last and, these days, Stockholm even employs children to drive the buses.

The reaction to a female bus driver was quite strange given the first public transport service in Stockholm was made up of rowing boats driven by, you guessed it, women.

Rower Women had plied their trade around the Stockholm archipelago from the 15th century. They were strong, swift rowers who would move the people of the city around the many islands with a pair of oars, surly manners and foul language. And all for a small coin.

I found out about these amazing women today at the Spårvägsmuseet, the Stockholm Transport Museum.

Housed in an old gas works building, it is a superb museum, from top to bottom, with plenty to see and learn and, best of all, drive. I even drove a tram. Sort of. Well, I stood playing with a lever while a film from the 1960’s played in the window in front of me.

I was a bit confused by the video until I realised that everyone was driving on the left.

I spent a goodly few hours roaming the various exhibits, learning how the people of Stockholm interacted with mass transit. And it all started with a short video, presented by a very old pigeon who remembered the rower women, the horse trolleys, the first trams and the T-Bana. Amazingly long-lived, that pigeon.

The museum is situated quite near Ropsten station, a place I first visited in the summer, last year. I wasn’t that impressed with the area around the station and, today, my opinion hadn’t changed. Even with a lot of snow around.

Still, there was a train waiting for me at the platform and it took me directly to Gamla Stan for my second museum of the day.

The Judiska Museet (Jewish Museum) is housed in the oldest, existing synagogue in Sweden. It was, before 1795, an auction house until it was made into a place of worship, learning and culture; a centre for Sweden’s small Jewish population.

As usual, the Jews didn’t have the best of starts in Sweden. For a start, in 1685, a law was passed declaring that all Jews had to be baptised and converted into the Christian faith. Then, in 1774, Aaron Isaac was made the first Jew able to live and worship as a Jew without the need to be baptised.

Apparently, Aaron was a bit of a self publicist whose diary, while no doubt entertaining, does include a bit of exaggeration. Given my writing style, I have no problem with that.

The museum is small and enlightening. There’s, obviously, stuff about the Holocaust but, generally, the place is about how the Jews came to live in Sweden and how they overcame the obstacles of prejudice and misunderstanding. How their lives were not just spent in misery. There are heart-warming stories as well as enlightening facts.

My favourite part were the coats hanging from the ceiling.

Each one has the story of a successful business printed on it. They are fascinating as well as a wonderful testimony of perseverance and fortitude. And they look really cool, too.

The whole museum was quiet and reflective, small and perfect. Though ‘enjoy’ is probably not quite the right word, I did enjoy it.

And so, having visited two museums today, I walked to the Liffey for a beer before catching the T-Bana back home.