scrapheapstuart3

ARCHIPELAGO CRUISE.

I was sitting by the Stockholm waterside watching the ferries come and go. It was my third full day in Sweden’s lovely capital, a city of watersides; of bays, inlets, islands, bridges and boats. I’d arrived early for an excursion into the Stockholm archipelago — thousands of pine-clad islands and islets scattered like confetti across the waters of the Baltic Sea. I didn’t worry. I just relaxed and watched the Swedish world go by. With 15 minutes to go however, I started to get a little concerned. Nobody else had turned up for the excursion. I went along to Berth 16 as instructed by my ticket, but it was deserted. A boat was moored there and coming off it was a solitary seaman who didn’t look as if he was expecting anybody. I showed him my ticket and asked him, if anything, what was happening. To my horror he told me I had come for the wrong boat on the wrong bay! I needed to go to the next bay about 10 minutes walk away. I looked at my watch and there were exactly 10 minutes to go! So I launched myself into a desperate dash. Naturally my ferry just had to be on the far side of the next bay and in the furthest berth possible. Crossing a bridge and reaching the quayside I could see it about 200 metres away. Everyone had boarded and a crew-man was having a last glance up and down for stragglers. I arrived panting and sweating, less than 2 minutes before the gang plank was pulled up.

This was my first trip out of Stockholm centre — a 3 hour guided tour around the inner archipelago. I had chickened out of going on a DIY trip on a public ferry because I didn’t want to get stranded overnight on an island and have to sleep under a tree! I was on my own in Sweden as my travel buddy sadly couldn’t come. So I couldn’t afford any slip -ups as there was nobody to watch my back.

After all that stress, the tour was, to be honest, an anti-climax. The guided element was a disembodied voice coming out of a crackly loud speaker. The biggest disappointment though was that we never actually got off the boat to explore any of the islands. It serves me right for being a coward. I could have taken an earlier ferry, landed at a far flung island and had a day of exploring in beautiful, peaceful surroundings.

After some rather ugly residential tower blocks ( not all Swedes are rich), we headed further out to view more attractive summer houses built from the 1870s onwards. They are mostly Swiss influenced with fancy carpentry, open verandas and tin roofs. Each house is nestled on a wooded hillside facing the water and has its own matching boathouse and a small jetty. Many of the former summer houses are now permanent residences. They are attractively painted in reds, greens, yellows and creams. After an hour we got to the large island and old town of Vaxholm, where some people were dropped off. It’s a popular holiday destination and a junction port for boats to other islands. It has an old, wooden hotel built in 1903 and a forbidding looking stone fortress constructed to protect Stockholm from sea-borne invaders. Unfortunately, by the time it was completed in the mid 1880s, it was already obsolete. Today it is a museum. Most of Vaxholm consists of wooden buildings, so that they could be quickly demolished in time of war. It’s streets are historical and atmospheric but unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to wander them. After Vaxholm we sailed back to Stockholm. One of the most interesting aspects of the archipelago cruise was the boat itself. It was a 1931 postal boat, formerly a steamer with a tall, red and black funnel. Today it is powered by an electric engine. We sailed back through the islands without incident. I had a cinnamon bun and a coffee to pass the time. ( a fika break, as they say in Sweden.) Then my underwhelming cruise was over. You cannot win them all!

DROTTNINGHOLM SLOTT.

The next day I travelled out to Drottningholm Slott ( or Palace) in a lovely setting on an island in Lake Malaren. It translates as the Queen’s Palace but I think the whole Royal family live permanently there now. Maybe it’s a bit more peaceful than their other palace in the centre of Stockholm surrounded by armed guards and tourists. I could have gone there on another boat trip but decided to be more adventurous by following AI advice. First I took the Tunnelbana ( Metro) way out west to Brommaplan on the green line. I then changed on to a bus, paying with my card on a scanner. The bus dropped me off at the palace gates. Two ladies opposite me kindly pointed it out. A few tourists got off with me but generally it was very quiet and there were no great queues to get in.

It’s a later 17th century baroque- style palace with a grand staircase, busts, statues, and stucco. It has painted ceilings, Royal portraits, and antique tapestries. There is a long gallery and a library. Drottningholm is sometimes called Sweden’s Versailles as every monarch in Europe wanted his/her version of Louis XIV’s masterpiece. The comparison however is a little unfair. The Swedish palace is a lot smaller. But the advantage is that it’s much less crowded and less tiring to negotiate. It’s not a major bucket -list destination. After having a good, leisurely look round, I was through in about 75 minutes. I then took a pleasant stroll in the gardens — long avenues of manicured box trees, fountains, classical statues and so on. You know the sort of thing. There is a Chinese Pavilion but it was cordoned off. Maybe the Royals were having a special do there that day. Alongside the formal Baroque garden is a more informal, English style garden by another lake.

After the obligatory visit to the restaurant, I sat by the lake, sharing the space with a line of classical statues and a mixed flock of ducks, geese, swans and grebes. The vintage former steamship arrived from Stockholm, decanted its passengers on to a tiny pier and cruised out again. I watched the grebes dive and a curious black-backed gull watched me. Finally I caught the bus and metro back into Stockholm. It had been an interesting and relaxing day done at my own pace.

BIRKA — VIKING SETTLEMENT.

My final excursion out of Stockholm was to Birka, an ancient Viking town on the remote island of Bjorko on Lake Malaren. (Bjorko means “island of birches.”) The lake is Sweden’s 3rd biggest and it is massive. It felt like we were out on the open sea. The cruise takes about 2 hours. Unfortunately it wasn’t such nice weather and rain was soon lashing against the windows of our boat. Nobody was sitting out on the open deck. For me this was going to a serious history trip as befits a former History teacher. Birka is a World Heritage Site because of its large Viking burial site. The educational nature of the trip was emphasised by the arrival of a large group of school pupils and their teachers. An archaeologist in a Viking tunic, looking suitably wild with long, straggly hair and a bushy beard, stood at a mike to give occasional lectures in Swedish and English. It was a full boat and people around me had mixed reactions to the “Viking.” Some listened intently and asked questions. Others stayed glued to their phones, chatted, ate and drank, played cards or even fell asleep.

At last we pulled up at a tiny jetty on a small, seemingly deserted island. It looked and felt fairly bleak. The rain had thankfully stopped but there was a sharp wind ruffling the reeds that fringed the bay. Our “Viking” guide put on his thick cloak and strode forth. Slightly reluctantly we all followed. There was a restaurant in a large, log cabin, but it wasn’t open yet! Down a winding path there was a toilet block and a small museum with attached souvenir shop. That was it. We were due to have a guided tour at noon, so we all dived into the museum to try to warm up. It was interesting, especially for history buffs like me. They had recreated the stories of 4 people excavated from the graves. They had lain there from the 8th, 9th and 10th centuries CE until the Indianan Jones’s of the later 19th century discovered and disturbed them. It’s a difficult one — education and pushing out the boundaries of knowledge versus respecting human dignity. How many generations or centuries should we respect the sanctity of the dead?

Anyway, the ancient burial site was excavated and as time went on, archaeologists became less interested in discovering gold, treasure and weapons and more interested in researching the actual lives of the skeletons they were carefully unearthing. A combination of scientific detective work and educated guesswork, slowly transformed the bones into “real” people. I looked at the displays of grave goods and photos of modern actors posing as their Viking ancestors. One was of a dashing looking warrior woman. At first they thought it must be a man as the grave contained a long knife and the remains of a longbow and a quiver of arrows. However, a closer examination of the pelvic bones revealed that this apparent warrior was a female. She had worn a pointed and patterned cap as well as the usual cloak, tunic and thick, woollen trousers. The museum also has meticulous models of Birka in its “Dark age” heyday. The settlement was a big, important trading centre. I found it very interesting in a history teacherish sort of way.

Just before noon our Viking archaeologist bellowed out an invitation to join his tour. It was a very interesting and surprising experience lasting a full 90 minutes. He gave an extremely vivid and detailed picture of Viking life and especially of their ritualistic funerals. I had foolishly imagined that a Viking burial ground would consist of ranks of ancient gravestones covered in mysterious rune inscriptions. Nothing could be further from the truth. We in fact stood on an exposed grassy hillside covered in lumps and bumps marked by rings of stones. Every now and then a phallic-shaped standing stone added a bit of variety. The latter was an obvious fertility symbol.

The original settlement of Birka consisted of between 800 to a 1000 people protected by earth ramparts. Unfortunately a lot of it has now been ploughed out of existence by modern farmers. Archaeologists and farmers are usually sworn enemies! The Vikings buried their dead in mounds or barrows. The people were interred with some of their most important belongings. One mound was bigger and more oval shaped because it had contained a horse. One grave had contained 2 skeletons — a smaller younger man had been beheaded and was lying on the chest of an older guy. He was probably his servant. The Vikings probably believed in an afterlife, but instead of heaven with angels playing harps, they aspired to reach Valhalla, a hall of drinking and feasting gods presided over by Odin, their chief.

Standing on that bleak hillside we listened to a fascinating explanation of Viking ancestor worship. They believed that their deceased family members lived in another world but could be contacted by drinking and feasting around the grave. ( thus aping what was supposedly happening in Valhalla.) The graveside party would last at least 3 days and people would drink themselves into a stupor — a state of near unconsciousness. This was regarded as a desirable thing as it was believed that it brought them closer to their ancestors and the gods. By drinking alcohol to excess they entered a sort of shamanic trance. Sometimes people even died at the funeral, thus precipitating a chain-reaction of further funerals. Surprisingly these deaths were regarded as highly desirable as the people concerned were thought to be having a reunion with their ancestors. The funerals themselves were mostly cremations although some of the more important people, like the warrior woman, were placed in chambered tombs. Flint stones were put on the fire and they would sparkle, crackle and explode turning the event into a spectacle. The idea of a dead Viking chief being put on his longship which would then be set fire to as it drifted out to sea, is mainly pure Hollywood. Kirk Douglas was never a real Viking. There might have been a few fiery boat funerals in Norway but not in Sweden.

Our archaeologist talked at length amongst the grassy mounds on the hillside. About half the group listened closely while the others got bored and retreated into their smart-phones. Some even started to chat. I found it very engrossing although a shade too long. One interesting fact was that when Scandinavian men invaded Anglo-Saxon Britain, they were very popular with the local women because, unlike their Anglo-Saxon counterparts, they washed once a week!

At last we were freed to head back to the museum. Some diverted up a prominent hill where a Celtic style cross commemorated a visit by a Christian missionary, St Ansgar. His mission was largely a failure though as most of the Vikings clung to their pagan ways. On my way back I went to see a fascinating, full-scale recreation of a Viking settlement from about the 8th century CE. I wondered amongst the log houses with thatched roofs, looking at crude wooden furniture and metal tools and cooking utensils. Chickens and goats strolled around and a colourful cockerel loudly warned me to keep my distance. Down by a little log pier were 3 small longships. It was all very atmospheric. Strangely the guide had chosen to ignore this. Maybe he preferred to recreate the Viking world in his own eloquent words. After a tasty meal in the restaurant which was decorated with shields, animal skins and antlers, we boarded the boat for the journey back to Stockholm. The 2 hours passed very quickly as I got talking to a young Dutch tourist who was also on his own. One advantage of travelling alone is that you are more likely to interact with other people you meet on the way.

LAST DAY.

I ducked out of ambitious excursions on my last full day in Stockholm. Instead I went to the Swedish National Museum housed in a grand, 19th century mansion on the waterfront near the public ferries. It has a rich and stimulating collection. From a British perspective, it’s like a cross between the National Gallery, the V and A and the Design Museum. Paintings, sculpture, ceramics, furniture and glassware are all mixed together in an attractive and tasteful way. It features art from the 16th century to the end of the 20th.

My last afternoon was thankfully sunny. The rain showers had cleared up. I spent it in a couple of small parks, one with a fancy fountain and the other with a statue of a distinguished scientist. I did a bit of reading, a bit of writing and a lot of people watching, always a fascinating pastime. Then it was back to the hotel on the Tunnelbana for an evening of rest and reflection. At my age, a night of drinking and clubbing no longer appeals!

It had been a rewarding week in the Swedish capital. It’s a great pity that my travel buddy couldn’t come as I know he would have loved it. Being on my own however made me me a more detailed observer of life around me. Sweden is a civilised and attractive country. Everyone speaks great English and these days a visiting foreigner doesn’t even have to tangle with the currency as Sweden is mostly a cashless society. Card and phone tapping is ubiquitous. It’s a bit expensive and the weather can be a bit iffy, but apart from that, it’s a great destination. I really enjoyed my week of solo wanderings.