After their first of many overnight train rides to follow, Tom and Jim arrived in Stockholm at 9 a.m., tired and hungry after trying—and mostly failing—to sleep sitting up. This may explain why their first impressions of the Swedish capital were less glowing than when they first glimpsed London and Copenhagen. The cold, dreary weather that greeted them when they disembarked didn’t help.
Finding an inexpensive place to eat in famously expensive Sweden was difficult—even Let’s Go! seemed at a loss. But they hit the jackpot with their accommodations. Docked just across the water (Stockholm is situated on 14 islands connected by more than 50 bridges) from the Gamla stan, Stockholm’s medieval “Old Town,” is the Af Chapman—a full-rigged steel ship built in the 1800s that sailed all over the world, later served as a training vessel for Swedish naval officers, and later still became a youth hostel.
The ship has undergone several major renovations, most recently in 2022. Today, the “hostel” looks more like a standard Hilton or Marriott hotel room. But in 1977 the accommodations were basic: double bunk beds, a small writing table, and three (not four, for some reason) chairs. After tossing their backpack on their assigned bunks, Tom and Jim joined a rather large group of people—young backpackers, as far as they could tell—gathered under the gray skies. A bedraggled man was playing the guitar and doing an excellent Gordon Lightfoot’s, “If You Could Read My Mind.”
“Where in Canada are you from?” Jim asked, sure the singer would be impressed with his ability to discern accents.
“No Canada,” he said, smiling and revealing a prodigious set of choppers. “No English.”
Though he couldn’t speak it, he sure could sing it. Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads” came next, followed by Donovan’s “Catch the Wind.” All were excellent. Different languages mingled in the air, but English predominated and Tom and Jim enjoyed listening to the more experienced travelers share their tales of the road.
“If you go to Amsterdam, do the
Heineken tour. It’s cheap, and you can get a buzz on by noon.”
“Skip the light show on the
Acropolis. It’s a rip-off.”
“Cairo is full of ****ing pickpockets.”
What struck them was that there was very little discussion of the experience of visiting these places versus how to stretch a buck. But they were budget travelers and some of the tips came in handy. One, in particular, caught their ears.
“Make sure you stop into the Pudding Shop in Istanbul. Everyone goes there and you can get some good tips on the overland to India.”
That may have been the first time they’d heard the word “overland.” Some of the people had traveled across Europe and through the Middle East to Asia. No planes. The idea was almost too exotic for Tom and Jim. And then Jim struck up a conversation with a young Austrian couple. They had worked for three years—he as a microbiologist, she as a teacher—before quitting their jobs to see the world. They had been traveling for nearly a year. Jim felt like a complete rookie and made a mental note to toss his backpack in the dirt somewhere so he looked more like a seasoned world traveler. He looked over to Tom, who was listening, wide-eyed. Jim had a feeling that Tom’s next out-of-budget purchase would be a copy of Let’s Go—Asia!
The weather report for the next few days forecasted rainy skies and chilly temps, so Tom and Jim decided to see as much of Stockholm as they could during the rest of the day and the following morning. The plan was to head north to Bergen, Norway, then back down the Scandinavian coast to Amsterdam.
They set out together for the Old City, Gamla Stan, Stockholm’s original city center. Tom loved wandering the maze of narrow lanes (seemingly narrow enough to stretch your arms and touch the buildings on opposite sides), lined with 300-year-old buildings. He was again struck by the limits on automobiles in the city in favor of pedestrians, and awed by the way people of all ages wandered the Gamla Stan and central Stockholm's numerous parks without fear. Remember: This was the 70s, when most American city centers shut down after the workday, and walking through parks in the dark could be hazardous to your health.
Tom wanted to take in more of the Gamla Stan and its nearby sites, such as the imposing Royal Palace. Jim wanted to simply wander, so they agreed to meet later back at the Af Chapman. Once Jim was out of the Old City, he found himself roaming the streets and bridges of a beautiful, modern city. Somewhere along the line, he found himself at some sort of flower-arranging competition. He didn’t understand a word of what was going on, but got a kick out of watching the contestants working furiously at something out of sight, then revealing their work with a victorious flourish to the accompaniment of lusty cheers and applause. Jim was mesmerized.
Back at the Af Chapman, he found Tom deep in conversation with another backpacker who, in the slightly condescending way that some of the more experienced backpackers talk to rookies, told Tom that it was crazy to go straight to Bergen.
“Take the train to Oslo first,” he said, which sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “From there to Bergen is one of the most beautiful train trips you’ll ever take.”
And so Tom and Jim amended their plans. They would do so
again in Oslo, onto a path that a certain famous poet would say made all the
difference.
***
That was Then. Now for the NOW: Reflections 50 Years Later on
"Stockholm: Dreary Weather, Bright Advice"
I would not have expected my Dad to be so entranced by a flower arranging competition! The wonders of travel.
ReplyDeleteThe competition was fierce! The Octagon of Fierce Flowering!
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