The House Husband in Sweden

Mirinda does not like riding in the back seat of a car. She says it makes her car sick. She has always said this, at least as long as I’ve known her. It makes her queasy, she says. If you add to this a rather rich and full Italian lunch, and you could be in for a projectile catastrophe.

In fact, we had a lovely lunch at Capricci, over at the Honstull market. Their tiramisu was particularly delicious. Highly recommended. It would have been a shame to see it again due to sitting behind KSP.

Tonight Mirinda was picked up by KSP and Anna Boom-Boom and, for expediency, was ushered into the back of the car. I wished them well as they drove off, with fingers crossed.

They were heading for a fairy filled wander in some woods, along with Nicoline. At the time of writing, I have no idea whether anyone was sprayed with vomit. I wasn’t invited.

To be honest, I was more than happy for the exclusion. After last night’s ATM wandering, and around four and half hours sleep, all I wanted to do was crash at the flat. Which I did after wishing them a fun and magical night.

My day had started with me heading out to the ICA to change a 500kr note in order to pay the laundry man. As it turned out, it wasn’t necessary. As it turned out, neither was my late night meander around Stockholm: The laundry man accepts Swish.

He was awfully nice, cheerful and pleasant but, seriously, why can’t he say on his website that he accepts cash and Swish? The site is fancy enough. And he has all the prices. Grrr.

So, yes, I headed up to the laundromat and spent two hours waiting for the clothes to be done. As I waited, lots of foreigners entered and told the same sad story: It’s well-nigh on impossible to get cash in Stockholm. Not just me, then.

Eventually, back at the flat, we headed out to Hornstull and wandered up and down the stalls of street food and tat. Weather-wise, the day was quite dull, so there wasn’t as many people about as would be were the sun out in full heat. Though I have to wonder how hot this woman was inside her inflatable cow.

At the far end of the market, the stalls dwindled as we found Tantoberget, a magical place filled with flowers, produce and cute little buildings. It is a land of allotments, cared for by loving gardeners. Very much a place of natural great beauty and somewhere Mirinda absolutely loved. She even stood and chatted in the garden of one chap, who explained how it all worked.

He had been on the waiting list for his plot for 15 years and is now a member of The Södra Tantolunden Allotment Garden Association. The association was started in 1917, although gardening had already taken place in the area in 1915, initially to grow potatoes. It is still a rule that, while you can grow as many flowers, shrubs and trees as you can fit on your plot, you have to include produce as well.

I have to admit that exhaustion did get the better of me after the first 300 plots so I sat on a convenient bench and read while Mirinda continued her extensive tour. She said the colours were particularly vivid through her new eyes.

Two of the small houses are preserved at Skansen. A red cottage from 1921 and a yellow one from the 1940’s. It’s a very serious business, gardening at Tanto.

And, that was about it for my day. Having left Mirinda in the capabale hands of KSP and Anna Boom-Boom, I headed back to the flat, rewatched an espiode of Seinfeld then fell asleep. I also listened to an episode of The Archers, but I’m going to have to listen that again, as I fell asleep in the middle of it.

NB: We are not including today in our International Cuisine Challenge because we didn’t really have dinner. Italian for lunch does not count according to Mirinda’s rules of the game.

The Codex Gigas is a massive bible. It was created sometime between 1204 and 1230 by, possibly, a single Benedictine monk. Modern analysis seems to indicate that it was made by a single hand. If so, it would have taken him a very long time. The 310 pages are 89cm tall and 49cm wide. The book weighs 75kg.

The Codex Gigas is also called The Devil’s Bible because of a picture on one of the pages.

We have a few people to thank for the opportunity to see the book.

Firstly there was Holy Roman Emperor, Rudolf II who decided, in 1594, that it would look better as an object in his cabinet of curiosities in Prague, rather than hidden away in the depths of some Bohemian monastery.

Then there was the victorious Swedish army of 1648 who, having laid siege to Prague, decided to take the big book back home with them. It then, almost moved to Rome when the always intriguing Queen Christina abdicated and moved to Italy. She took most of her books but perhaps decided that the Codex was a bit too big.

The book is now housed in a special light and temperature controlled room in the Swedish National Library, where it has been since 1878, having survived a fire in 1697 by being thrown out of a window.

We visited the library today, having left Söder and headed across to Vasastan where we put our luggage into temporary storage before heading out.

Mirinda planned our day beautifully. There was the library then a visit to the exquisite Saluhall, covered market where we bought some delicious Lebanese bits and pieces for dinner at home. The market is amazing. Lot of stalls with lots of intriguing food. I reckon I’d shop there a lot if we lived nearby.

And, given it is covered, we managed to escape the torrential rain that fell, unexpectedly, while we sat having a drink at Lisa Elmqvist’s waiting for the wet to leave.

Eventually we headed back and checked into our new flat for the week. What a lovely place and so different to the flat on Söder. For one thing, someone actually lives in the new one. And the rooms are bigger. And there are mugs.

Tomorrow we have to wash some clothes and, because neither flat had a machine, we have to go to a nearby laundromat. That is fine except that the laundromat only takes cash and the exact amount.

After dinner, and leaving Mirinda talking to Jason, I headed out looking for an ATM that wasn’t closed. Three hours later, exhausted, footsore and sweating profusely, I returned with only two 500kr notes. Every ATM I visited (apart from one) was closed. Sweden is very much a cashless city so it’s difficult to get any when a business only uses it.

Anyway, it means an early trip to ICA in the morning to see if they’ll break one of the notes. Wish me luck, campers.

A mermaid wishing Gary luck with the laundry. Notice I’ve worn my legs down from too much walking. It’s a long way to Skanstull.

Something that is really annoying me at the moment is how YouTube wants me to login to verify I’m human every time I want to play one of my OWN videos on my OWN blog. So, whenever I come across one, I upload the original video to my host and connect it directly to the post. I then delete the file from YouTube so, eventually, I’ll be done with the bastards. I did two this morning and felt very good about it.

But enough of that irritating nonsense.

Today was the day that Mirinda completed the set. Her second eye was sorted out. She now has 120% vision. She has better vision than an eagle. Okay, her pupil is currently huge, but that will be sorted by the morning.

So, we caught the number 3 bus which dropped us across the road from the eye clinic, then went for a coffee at Fabrique. Obviously, the woman recognised me and made my super strong coffee as usual. Actually, she admitted that she’d put four shots in rather than the three I normally have. She also made a lovely bit of latte art.

Following our pick-us-ups, we headed upstairs where Mirinda was given the drugs, the hair net and the shoe covers before being led off by the doctor.

While last week took about an hour, today she was back in about 20 minutes. We sat for the shortest of recuperating whiles, before heading back to the flat.

Mirinda wanted to nap for a few hours, so I went out for a bit of a Gaz wander.

The weather today was a bit hot for me, so I took it easy, heading first to Kungsträdgården for a cold beer, while watching the millions of milling people, hanging around the big pond, keeping an eye on their cavorting children, some in the shade of the no longer blooming cherry trees.

There really were a lot of people. It felt like the heat of the day had dragged them all out of some winter hibernation. When I was in Stockholm on my own, back in 2022, I was amazed at the amount of people in the city. Today felt worse. Obviously, I avoided the trams, but the buses were almost as bad.

I headed over to Gamla Stan on the Tunnelbana (also crowded) to get Mirinda some cheery chocolates and, obviously, a beer at the Liffey (somewhere I visited in 2022 as well) where I was served by an Australian bartender. It was then just a matter of finding a chocolate shop before heading back to the bus stop to head back to the flat.

There was quite the crowd in Stortorget with people milling around the Nobel Museum and sitting sipping hot chocolate at the outside cafés. At least, I assume it was hot chocolate. Could just as easily been gin, I suppose.

On the final approach to the flat, Mirinda texted to say there would be no international cuisine tonight, as she felt like staying in. I bought a couple of very nice salads from ICA, which we ate while watching a movie (Mean Girls the 2024 musical version).

Tomorrow we move to our next accommodation and resume our World Tour of Food.

The flat we are staying in is surrounded by buildings with plaques. There are some red houses in the next block (Carl Larsson and his wife lived in one for a bit) which look delightfully like wormholes into the past among the almost endless buildings full of flats. These strange glimpses into a very different Söder are reminders that life was very different when the buildings were made of wood.

The photo above is one of the buildings in the Åsöberget kulturreservat, an area you can walk around admiring. It avoided many of the fires that have ravaged various bits of the island in the past. Not surprising, really, when you consider tar used to be made here.

But it’s not just old wooden buildings that get the plaque treatment. A lot of the buildings of flats are notable for something.

Take, for instance, Bondegatan 74. It was built in 1914 by the city of Stockholm using a grant from the Danelii Stiftelse (Foundation). The foundation was created in order to, among other things, provide accommodation for poor and abandoned women and their families.

The City of Stockholm liked this idea very much, so they built a block of flats for them and had the name of the foundation carved above the door.

The Danelii Stiftelse was set up in honour of Brother August Danelii (1833-1908) a very wealthy Stockholmer. He grew his wealth by exporting ice-packed salmon to Europe, making land deals and by founding a factory for the mechanical manufacture of fishing nets called Svenska Fiskredskapsaktiebolaget – I think that’s the name of the factory rather than the nets. When August died, he left over 8.5 million kroner, a lot of which went to the founding of the foundation.

Bondegatan 74 bears his name but it isn’t the only Stockholm building to do so. There is Daneliuska house at Stureplan in Stockholm as well. Unlike the local block of flats, the place at Stureplan has an impressive tower.

Part of the Danelii Donationsfond also went to the construction of the Orpheus Group sculpture by Carl Milles, which stands in front of the concert hall in central Stockholm.

Incidentally, Milles also made the big statue of Gustaf Vasa in the Nordiska Museet.

But, back to the block of flats near us…one notable person who lived at Bondegatan 74 was the author Per Anders Fogelström. As a child, he lived in the building with his mother and sister after his father abandoned them and immigrated to the US.

Fogelström wrote over 40 novels and spent his entire life in Stockholm. As well as a writer, he was also quite political and a notable pacifist. His father, on the other hand, was clearly a right arsehole.

I haven’t been able to find any other famous people who lived in the block of flats though, in my mind, abandoned women who managed to work and bring up a family should be famous. The husbands who abandoned them however, should be forgotten.

Okay, I realise that not all of the women were abandoned. Some could have been widowed, others the victims of sexual abuse. They have their own stories of hardship and bravery. And good old Brother August Danelii helped them all. Or, at least, the City of Stockholm helped them on his behalf.

It rained for most of today so we decided to have a day off. Also, Mirinda had a few video calls to make. Obviously, we went out for meals, including dinner, which was had at Dionysos, a Greek restaurant not far from the flat.

Which now takes our international cuisine tally to six: Spanish, Peruvian, French, Italian, Thai and Greek.

Yesterday, on the Stromma boat cruise, as we approached the lock leading to Lake Malaren, we passed a restaurant called Thai Boat. Half of the restaurant resembled a boat, the other half is on a pontoon, floating on the water. We both wanted to eat at Thai Boat, as it looked so cool. (It also reminded us of The Lotus in Canary Wharf.)

Having spent most of the day searching central Stockholm for various types of glasses and pirate eye patches, we caught the bus down to almost the end of the line and walked the final few metres to the restaurant.

Obviously, given we are currently doing this unplanned eat at a different national restaurant each night, thing, Thai seemed ideal. And boy was it ever! If you like Thai food, this place does not disappoint. And, not only does it serve excellent food and is on a boat, if you are very, very lucky, a young artist might just paint your portrait. Like what happened to me.

Now, I have to admit, I’m not happy with the nose depiction, but the rest seems pretty accurate. The young artist was about six and was out with his family. For some reason, rather than drawing any of his relatives, he opted for the strange tomte at the next table. I was wearing my hat because the sun was in my eyes.

I think it’s superb and will not hear a bad word said about it. The Kulturhuset, on the other hand, I may have a bad word for.

Mirinda was off, searching for a pair of wrap around sunglasses (for protection against dust in her new bionic eyes) and had left me in the café at Kulturhuset drinking a beer, reading and resting my foot. There had been a fair bit of walking, searching for eye patches, so I needed a bit of a sit down.

Actually, a funny thing happened in her search for an eye patch. We had visited a plethora of Apoteks. Each of them had said they stock them but had run out. Though, Mirinda had to describe them as the things that pirates wear because most of them wanted to give her eye masks rather than pads. One also tried to give her make up removing cotton wool pads.

Then, in the second last one we tried, the woman at the counter suggested that Mirinda try the fancy dress shop around the corner. I was a bit concerned that if we did, she might have to purchase the whole outfit. Including the parrot.

Anyway, it turns out that the Apotek underneath Åhléns has them and, not only that, the guy serving knew exactly what and where they were. No need for the pirate outfit after all.

After all was said and done, Mirinda managed to find an eye patch as well as a pair of almost wrap around sunglasses and a pair of reading glasses which transformed her ability to read her phone from having it just beyond the tip of her nose to arm’s length. “It’s so colourful!” She said.

Improved vision has opened up an entire new world of wonder for my lovely wife.

NB: International cuisine now stands at five: Spanish, Peruvian, French, Italian and Thai. We also had lunch at the very popular Greasy Spoon, which, I guess, is British but, Mirinda said, we are not including lunches.

We witnessed two protest marches today. One was demanding a stop to the genocide of Palestinians, and the other was against the Islamic Republic in Iran. While I don’t agree with everything they may say and/or stand for, I agree completely with their right to protest about it. Unlike in the US, both protests were allowed to proceed and they were not riots. There was no looting or masked federal agents. No reporters were intentionally shot. Both were perfectly peaceful. A lot of the people protesting smiled.

In fact, both of them had quite the party atmosphere. The Iranian one even had catchy music, though I have no idea what the words meant.

Both demos went along the side of Kungsträdgården then headed up to the ugly palace. Both had a police escort, though I spotted quite a few of the demonstrators policing themselves.

We were down at Kungsträdgården having just gone on a Stromma tour of ‘Stockholm Highlights’. Ignoring the AI guide, it was fantastic. While, overall, the AI information was good, the really appalling pronunciations of Swedish words was painful. It made me sound perfect. I mean, for a start, I don’t say Vajin when I mean Vägen. And I refuse to condone the continual suggesting that Södermalm is actually Sodomum.

And it made a couple of errors. Of course, it started by saying to excuse it because it was still learning, but that’s no excuse for suggesting the Vasa (pronounced Vayza to rhyme with blazer) sank because of poor workmanship.

Anyway, leaving aside the annoying AI, the tour was excellent, as you’d expect from Stromma, though there was a little bit of annoyance while we stood in line waiting to board and a miserable German fellow decided he didn’t need the niceties of a queue and just pushed in ahead of us. I was saved the indignity of abusing him verbally because he let Mirinda in ahead of him when the line started to move forward.

Not me, mind. No Gary had to hobble on behind an old woman with two sticks who decided to push in front of me first. I realised I had the right to protest but decided it wasn’t really worth it.

That was a mere annoyance on an otherwise marvellous boat ride.

It was two and a half hours of watery pleasure. There were heaps of people along the shores, enjoying the sand, rocks and water, diving, swimming or just lying about. Some were in pretty isolated and seemingly inaccessible spots but the majority were in family or friend groups. It was joyful.

Eventually, back on land, we headed to Ricordi, an Italian restaurant, for an early dinner.

Mirinda has visited Ricordi a few times but it was a first for me. And can I just say that the food at Ricordi is excellent. Dinner was perfect. And the place looks well cute.

Of course, it was the first time that Mirinda had seen the place in full, vibrant colour. She was amazed for the entire meal. Her new eye is incredible.

That was about it for the day. We walked down to the bus stop and caught the number 2 back to the flat, then crashed for the rest of the day.

Okay, not exactly. We watched a movie (Pitch Perfect) then crashed.

Speaking of which, here’s a bit of the second demonstration. The big yellow banner is calling for regime change.

NB: International cuisine now stands at four: Spanish, Peruvian, French and Italian.

I almost did a Claire in the bathroom this morning. The doors in the flat don’t always close properly and, if you have stability issues like me, you tend to lean up against walls and doors. Be warned that doing so in this flat, could see you sprawled out on the floor of the kitchen.

I managed to survive this particular death trap so, after Mirinda woke up and spent a while counting the different spots of lichen on a tree 400 metres away using her new eye, we headed out in search of brunch.

Midsummer Eve is a lot like Ascension Day in Stockholm.  It took a long time and a fair bit of walking but, eventually, we found a café where we managed some refreshment. We then headed for the Tunnelbana.

Getting off at Gamla Stan, Mirinda left me on a bench and went for a wander, finding an essential mug and table runner. Obviously, the mug was for the flat so we can both have a hot drink at the same time. The table runner…well, it will bring the kitchen together, so it is clearly essential.

I sat for a bit, enjoying the sun, then noticed a craft beer place not far from my bench. What a good opportunity, I thought. There’s only one thing better than beer and that’s craft beer. My foot is quite sore at the moment, so it was a case of hobbling down to the perfectly named Barrels Burgers and Beer.

I sat and nursed a beer (or two) and watched people as they came and went. Like the very loud and super bass-voiced chap who didn’t want his cold hamburger and the German gentle giant who ordered beer and fries and sat, smiling all the way through them. The couple who wanted to sit inside, so the waitress handed them a couple of menus, they went inside and were gone for ages before coming back out and walking away saying they didn’t want anything. I mean, the name of the place quite clearly says what they’re selling.

Eventually, Mirinda arrived and had a burger and a glass of rose before we headed out, by bus, for Mosebacke Terrace. Originally, we wanted to go on a Stromma cruise with food and dancing on an island, but it was seriously oversubscribed. We were on a waiting list, but I think it might have stretched up until next year.

Mosebacke Terrace was having an event with the usual, traditional singing, dancing and ritual business with the flower decked pole so we decided, that’s where we’d go. It was handy that it was close to the flat and we figured it would be a lot less crowded than Skansen. Though, once we arrived, I’m not sure that it was. There were lots of people. Lots of kids. Lots of people adorned with flowers. Women in matching summer dresses.

Sadly, there weren’t any traditional outfits but, the atmosphere was perfect. As was the beer. I thoroughly enjoyed a glass of First Mate Missing made by Brutal Brewing. Oddly, the only other option on tap was Heineken. Obviously, I wasn’t having any of that.

When the singing started, it was glorious. And loud. I noticed a lot of people putting fingers in ears as they walked past the stage. Still, when the frog song came on, it was all about the singing and actions.

A lot of people were mouthing all the songs so, taking cues from them, we joined in, though we were actually singing gibberish.

It was great fun and we thoroughly enjoyed our limited view. Mine was further limited due to sitting down. Sadly. Lucky Mirinda was standing up and, given her new super vision., saw a whole lot more than I did.

Eventually, the traditional songs ended and families started drifting away while the serious business of professional drinking to loud club music started. We sat for a while, but then decided we should return to the flat for a bit of a rest before dinner.

Given we had Peruvian last night and Spanish the night before, we figured it should be French tonight. So we walked down to a lovely Bistroteket and had a delicious dinner. I’m not sure if we can manage a different national cuisine for our whole stay but we are planning to try.

One disturbing thing I found on the walk back to the flat were the no parking signs which, it seems, are name dependent. My dad would have been a tad annoyed discovering that he, and everyone else named Fred, could not park in certain places, at certain times.

What kind of nameist nonsense is that?

My very brave wife went to the eye clinic today to have a lens removed in order to sort out the cataract in it. Apparently this is a very common operation/procedure and millions of people have it all over the world and their sight is improved and preserved for years to come. Obviously, my wife was worried about it, mainly because she would not be anaesthetized and would be watching the whole thing. She would get a sedative to keep her calm, but that was it.

We went up to the eye place early, as her appointment was for 8:30am. This is why we stayed at the hotel for the night because it’s on the same road and not that far to walk. We arrived at the clinic at around 8am and were told where to wait.

Mirinda was prepped; eye drops squeezed into her eye, sedative given in a small plastic cup, stylish shoe bags and hair bonnet donned; then disappeared.

She quite liked the contrasting colours.

After she vanished, I went down to Fabrique for a coffee. The hotel didn’t provide coffee in the rooms. I could have popped down to reception and had one there but, for reasons that will forever be a mystery to me, I didn’t. Anyway, the woman in Fabrique who served me last week, remembered me and knew I liked three shots in my latte.

Having woken up properly, and in a better humour thanks to Mr Caffeine, I headed back to the waiting area, just as Mirinda emerged, blinking and dazed.

After a sit down for 20 minutes as prescribed by the ever smiling doctor, we headed out, to Fabrique for a coffee for Mirinda and a second triple shot latte for me. The woman behind the counter was shocked.

“If I had six shots within an hour, my head would be spinning,” She said.

Mirinda helpfully told her that I needed six to be normal.

While we sat, Mirinda told me about the operation. How it was like having a huge pink bag over her head, before a giant, cylindrical marshmallow started heading for her eye; how there was a tiny hole to look at, how one of the nurses sang (when she asked for requests, Mirinda said I Can See Clearly Now, and she obliged) and how her limbs took on a life of their own and thrashed about. At one stage, the two nurses released her arms but then, quickly re-gripped, when Mirinda restarted her thrashing.

Still, she was very brave and, soon, we left the clinic and headed out.

Apart from much improved vision, the over-riding result of the operation was the size of Mirinda’s pupil.

It let far too much light in, causing halos to appear around bulbs. The sunlight was a bit much too so she bought a cheap pair of, non-prescription, sunglasses.

After hanging around, waiting for our AirBnB to be ready for us, we caught a taxi, driven by a very well-dressed Kurd who lived in Sydney for a few years – Parramatta and Seven Hills – and we reminisced for a bit about that as he drove us from Kungsholmen to Södermalm.

The flat we’re in for the next little while is lovely, though it only has one, very big mug and not much cutlery. It is in an excellent part of Söder, with restaurants and shops abounding. I know because I headed out, searching for an ICA, a Systembolaget and an Apotek, while Mirinda had a well-earned snooze.

As Mirinda’s new lens bedded in, she began to be amazed at how bright and glorious everything was. We watched the Jennifer Lawrence movie, No Hard Feelings and she kept asking if the TV was better than ours because the colours were so hyperreal and vibrant. I assured her our TV was the same. (Incidentally, I loved the film.)

Going out to dinner, Mirinda chose a Peruvian restaurant not far from the Flat With One Mug. It turned out that Checa was a wonderful find. And not just for the amazing food but also for the company. We were sat next to a couple of Americans, Jo and Daniel who honeymooned on the Great Ocean Road in 1993, two years after we did. They are planning to settle in Adelaide.

We had a lovely time chatting, mostly about Sweden, while eating and praising the food.

They have been invited to a family Midsummer party tomorrow, lucky bastards, so I showed them how to toast properly, in the formal Swedish way, exactly as Nicoline taught us.

Just like the during the movie, Mirinda was amazed at how brilliant everything was, as she stared out of the windows at the ordinary, nondescript buildings across the road. This continued throughout the meal, given the vibrancy of the food.

Above is the Salmon Tiradito which comprises salmon sashimi on a fruity, citrusy Passion Fruit & Leche de Tigre Sauce. And it was totally delicious.

After our amazing dinner, we went for a walk along a path leading beyond the wooden houses at the end of our street, until we found a few brilliant lookout points, with views across the water to Gröna Lund. The sunset was lovely, the colours vivid…apparently.

Mirinda was a bit downcast because she feels she has missed out on such amazing sights, given she has worn glasses since she was 14 and has had the cataracts further spoiling views for her. Apart from the obvious, her new lenses mean she’ll never have to wear glasses for distance again. She is overjoyed. Though, of course, she’ll have to go through the whole thing again next week, in the other eye.

It was a delightful end to what was, quite frankly, an incredible day.