Stockholm, Sweden
We arrived in Sweden relatively late (typically the ship had been docked for hours by the time we awoke), and took the shuttle into town for another tour-free day. I was miserably under the weather, so Greg was assigned the task of planning the day's excursions. We went first to City Hall, where the Nobel Prizes are presented; given the choice of waiting an hour for an English tour inside or wandering the outside and moving on, we chose the latter.
Our next stop was Gamla Stan, the heart-shaped old city, which we reached via the Riksbrug--a small amount of German will tell you that's the parliament bridge, and indeed it actually passed through the parliament building. Gamla Stan was cold, rainy, and thick with tourists, and I was in no mood for any one of these qualities, much less all three of them, so I was certainly not a jolly travel companion.
Fiona had asserted that the best changing of the guards on our cruise would be in Stockholm, and of course she was right. The ceremony was long (and in some cases, bizarrely informal), but it was certainly fun to watch. When the band marched in with flip folders, I wrongly assumed they were just too lazy to memorize the two or three tunes I figured the ceremony would take; however, they ended up playing what could be described as a halftime concert in addition to your average marching music. Later, I begged the drum major for a photo op.
As had become a recurring event, Greg was getting dangerously low by the time we started looking for lunch. We looked in vain for a restaurant that would accept credit cards, then gave up and found an ATM instead, and had lunch at a neat little basement cafe off a side street, which seemed to specialize in quiches. Greg had wanted to visit the Vasa Museum which we'd heard quite a bit about, so we walked to the harbor to catch the ferry out to the museum. We looked at the ticket prices, struggled with the exchange rate for a moment, and finally decided to walk to the museum instead, since we could see it from where we were, and it didn't look that far. However, by the time we got there and got in the unmoving ticket line, we'd have had no time at all to enjoy the museum before having to catch the ferry, walk to the shuttle, and bus back to the ship. Reluctantly, Greg agreed to walk calmly back into town instead of rushing through the museum and rushing back.
We more or less stumbled upon the King's Garden, a wide mall in the center of town, bordered by Birgit Nilssons Alle on one side and Jussi Bjorlings Alle on the other--across Jussi Bjorlings Alle was the Opera House. We went in to check out the gift shop (so many Jussi Bjorling box sets, so little time), and found a small group of elaborate opera costumes on display. Then, using the valuable time we could've spent in the Vasa, we walked all the way back to the ship.
After dinner, Greg taught me to play cribbage; much beginner's luck was manifested.
Our next stop was Gamla Stan, the heart-shaped old city, which we reached via the Riksbrug--a small amount of German will tell you that's the parliament bridge, and indeed it actually passed through the parliament building. Gamla Stan was cold, rainy, and thick with tourists, and I was in no mood for any one of these qualities, much less all three of them, so I was certainly not a jolly travel companion.
Fiona had asserted that the best changing of the guards on our cruise would be in Stockholm, and of course she was right. The ceremony was long (and in some cases, bizarrely informal), but it was certainly fun to watch. When the band marched in with flip folders, I wrongly assumed they were just too lazy to memorize the two or three tunes I figured the ceremony would take; however, they ended up playing what could be described as a halftime concert in addition to your average marching music. Later, I begged the drum major for a photo op.
As had become a recurring event, Greg was getting dangerously low by the time we started looking for lunch. We looked in vain for a restaurant that would accept credit cards, then gave up and found an ATM instead, and had lunch at a neat little basement cafe off a side street, which seemed to specialize in quiches. Greg had wanted to visit the Vasa Museum which we'd heard quite a bit about, so we walked to the harbor to catch the ferry out to the museum. We looked at the ticket prices, struggled with the exchange rate for a moment, and finally decided to walk to the museum instead, since we could see it from where we were, and it didn't look that far. However, by the time we got there and got in the unmoving ticket line, we'd have had no time at all to enjoy the museum before having to catch the ferry, walk to the shuttle, and bus back to the ship. Reluctantly, Greg agreed to walk calmly back into town instead of rushing through the museum and rushing back.
We more or less stumbled upon the King's Garden, a wide mall in the center of town, bordered by Birgit Nilssons Alle on one side and Jussi Bjorlings Alle on the other--across Jussi Bjorlings Alle was the Opera House. We went in to check out the gift shop (so many Jussi Bjorling box sets, so little time), and found a small group of elaborate opera costumes on display. Then, using the valuable time we could've spent in the Vasa, we walked all the way back to the ship.
After dinner, Greg taught me to play cribbage; much beginner's luck was manifested.
Labels: honeymoon
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home