Day 4: Hässelholm to Stockholm

Edinburgh to Stockholm - a Journey

(scroll down for links to first three days)

I’m awake. I want to be asleep. I have not had enough rest to be this awake, this early.

And yet here we are.

Last night I watched the night train to Stockholm slip out of Hässelholm station, leaving me and 5 others stranded. I have wakened in a hotel room in rural Sweden, instead of in the city. So now I need to make some choices.

My brain dances - stay here for a while and explore Hässelholm? It might be interesting to spend some time here, somewhere less metropolitan? I checked the trains last night and the journey onward will be around 3 hours on the fast link, which means the possibility of a morning pottering here and pushing on later is there.

Or maybe push on to Stockholm and try to make the brunch I have booked with Karin at 11:30? That means catching the pre-7am train. I glance at my watch - If I jump up and run around now, I could make it. But then I’d arrive at the other end all in a flurry…

As my brain - moving a hundred times faster than my body is inclined to - sifts through scenarios and runs mental maths to find a good travel equation for the day, I hear the rain outside the open window. It’s going to be a soggy morning here. An Airbnb waits at the other end… decision made.

I message Karin, explaining the situation and asking if we can reschedule at all - we can. I’m glad for this.

I message the train company to say: you left us on a platform, what now?

I concede that I’m not going back to sleep any time soon.

About an hour and a half later, I’m on the train heading North West to Stockholm. The Receptionist called the train company. She has helped ensure there are compensation forms in my inbox, a seat reserved in first class and the promise of breakfast on the train.

I love this country already.

The rain is coming down hard and I watch a man borrow a branded hotel umbrella from the bucket at the front door. I wish I could borrow one - I prefer to be under an umbrella to endure rain sodden clothes for most of the day - but I would be unable to return it. Instead, I walk from hotel to station quickly. On the platform, I see the man who took the umbrella is about to get on the same train as me. He did not share my concerns about returning anything. Now I wonder if Sweden has an umbrella karma policy

The train is fast, clean and modern, with wide seats and good wifi. I settle quickly and, as promised, coffee and breakfast arrive. Swedish train breakfasts include: Yoghurt with an optional packet of dried fruit to add, a pancake, with cheese (jarlsberg?), tomato and fresh yellow pepper slices on top, a roll with butter and some sort of fruit jam. The coffee is strong, bitter and packs a punch. I eat, write and eventually the last few hours creep up on me and I sleep most of the way through the journey.

We arrive in Stockholm on time and as I’m about to leave the train, I see the hotel umbrella, now without a man attached to it, languishing on a seat. I take it, promising I’ll pay it forward to someone else. It’s raining fairly hard in the city, so I’m glad for the shelter.

At the station, I take a moment to orientate myself. Day 4 with the backpack and I realise everything feels easier. My knees and hips aren’t complaining, the bag feels balanced. Am I becoming one with the rucksack?

The 15-minute walk to the Airbnb suggests: Yes. Umbrella up, I navigate my way to Gamla Stan across rivers and down little streets, all without pain or too much effort. My smugness ends after climbing four flights of stairs to the little garret flat I’ve rented at the top of the slim house, built sometime in the 1500’s. The cracks in the walls and staircase are alarming, but I figure it’s been standing for hundreds of years - it’ll hold for two more days.

I dump my bags and wander the streets, finding a suitable Swedish bakery, taking up the tradition of Fika - a coffee break to fully relax, with a bite of something tasty. I write for a couple of hours, steadily recording the trip so far, and eventually realise the place is closing up. So my first day in Stockholm feels like I have done very little.

This leads to a couple of hours of me exploring Gamla Stan with more intention. I seek out the Royal Palace, find little alleyways and art galleries, take photos and wander happily. The wander takes me to a local bar, just under the airbnb, where good wine and small plates are on offer.

The young woman tending bar is kind when I say I want a table for one. She directs me to the back - You can watch everything there, she says. The bar is called Kouthoofd Familie Winkel. It’s all cool lines and scandi-minimal design. And they play records. Actual Vinyl. I order a glass of Riesling and some small plates to snack on. I’m writing and happy - and the tunes are a 90’s revival. She plays Pulp, Space, Soul 2 Soul, Groove Armada. Everything crystal clear. Between the food, the wine and the music, I’m in sonic, sensory heaven.

Solo travelling means I rarely let my guard down. But I feel really safe here, tucked up in the corner of a cool bar in a beautiful city. I give myself some time to just enjoy the moment. I order a second glass of wine and chat to the young woman - she has family in Scarborough and Durham, has never been to Scotland, but would love to see Loch Ness. I tell her I’m appreciating her music tastes and she says she loves “the retro stuff from before I was born”.

Ah. the 90’s are the new 60’s then…..

I’m done for the night, rolling the 50 steps to my bnb front door and carefully picking my way up 4 flights of cracked staircasing.

I reflect that, in many ways, I have not done Stockholm “properly” today- minimal movement, lots of staying indoors and writing - but to travel as yourself means cutting your own path.

Tomorrow there will be other choices.

See Day Zero Here - Edinburgh to Cambridgeshire

See Day One Here - Cambridgeshire to Cologne

See Day Two Here - Cologne to Copenhagen

See Day Three Here - Copenhagen to Stockholm (Almost!)