Stockholm, part V

I have somehow managed to come to the end of my Stockholm chapter, which I find vaguely remarkable and even commendable. A morning not wholly whiled away in vain, then, and it's not even noon. I'm not going out again today, I don't think. Honestly, if I could have my own way I'd never step out of this room - agoraphobia, David Foster Wallace would suggest with a dry chuckle, along with some other long pedantic words that even I've never heard of.

Sweden, this'll be the last entry proper. My next entry will be about what was one of my favourite parts of my journey: the overnight Silja cruise from Stockholm to Helsinki. Sweden? As I mentioned in a former entry, I didn't take as much note of the city as I should have. I enjoyed its beauty, and prosperity, and the rugged, ruddily healthy mien of its Nordic inhabitants, as well as all the other expats who lived there. This was a city that was largely left intact by the turmoil of the second World War, and somehow this was manifested in the clear blue Baltic skies, the courteous demeanour of the Swedes, and the calm bustle of the Gamla Stan.

This city is also extremely expensive and I'm not sure if I will come back again, but for the Silja line, maybe. How old will I be when I next come? Not too old, that's for sure. I have a way of getting things that I want.

Oh look there's a 7-11 here in Stockholm of all places!