Stockholm - Augusti¹ 2025

It was actually getting a little warm in Copenhagen so we took the x2000 high-speed train north.

Then took a taxi from the Stockholm Central Station and was scammed. Ahmed was Iraqi and knew we were Americans, so it might have been personal. I later discovered that taxis in Stockholm set their own rates, which is either pure lunacy or the most American thing I've ever heard. Subsequently I made a vow never to take one again . . . ever.

Mårten Trotzigs gränd ("Alley of Mårten Trotzig") is an alley, which tapers to 90 centimeters (35 in), making it the third narrowest street in Europe.² So cross it off the bucket list. As the Falcon said in Captain America: Civil War, I said to Mrs. AAR, “Everyone’s got a gimmick now.”

When I told Mrs. AAR about how Anthony Bourdain ate pork knuckle at Restaurant Pelikan, she had visions of the pork knuckle she devoured in Prague during our Grand Tour of Europe. When we arrived at the place and realized it was a Boiled Knuckle of Pork (emphasis hers), she switched to the Seared Artic Char. Well, if it was good enough for Tony, it's good enough for me. And when combined with mashed Swedes (rutabaga), two Falcon Export Lagers, and a cavernous beer hall with friendly service . . . . a little bit of Swedish heaven.

Mamma Mia!

The Royal Gift Shop outside the Royal Palace (and just down the street from the hotel), was hands down the finest gift shop I've ever visited. It had none of the tacky crap you generally find outside most tourist attractions with not a bobblehead in sight. Though it did have an unsettling large amount of plastic serving trays ("bricka") and photos of the royal family suitable for framing.

The Changing of the Guard outside the Royal Palace occurs 1215 daily. Not sure what to make of it as I had a very bad angle on it, and was preoccupied by looking at the weird hats the soldiers were wearing. I used to wear a cover similar to the one on the left in the Navy, and am thankful it was tassel-free, otherwise I might very well be permanently cross-eyed. And the one on the the right isn't an improvement with its WWI German soldier vibe.

Maybe they knew what I had in mind?

Having a drink at Le Hibou, is like having a drink in the spacious and sophisticated living room of the penthouse apartment you always imagined you'd be living in someday when you finally became an adult. While riding up in the classic tight European staircase encircled elevator, or as they say in Europe lift, or as they say in Sweden hiss, I heard what sounded like a bird. When I asked the barman about it, he replied that an owl was living in the elevator shaft. After I expressed my surprise followed by laughter from the lads at the end of the bar, he let me in on the joke.³ Later in reply to my asking "What's the one thing I should do in Stockholm?" Bjorn recommended I take the public ferry to Vaxholm island. So the next day . . .

We arrived at the ferry landing eight minutes after the last ferry had just departed and there was already a line of 15 people waiting for the next one departing in 52 minutes, though a woman helpfully mentioned that "they let you board 20 minutes early."

In my Copenhagen Report, I detailed that I can't stand two things: negative people and transit cards, well add to that: waiting on line, or in a queue as they say in Europe.

So we popped across the street to the Grand Hotel to have a Spendrups Signatur lager at the Grand Soleil. It's the quintessential Swedish sidewalk cafe, with views of the harbor and the quintessential willowy Swedish blond hostess.

Then back across Sodra Blasieholmshamnen street to the back of a very long queue to board the 4 Ferry. Then nine dollars later, paid via taping my Capital One Venture X credit card, we were underway taking in sights of Stockholm harbor. And then 60 minutes later deboarding at Vaxholm, which is "a vibrant archipelago village with authentic restaurants and quaint shops." I could have boarded another ferry to the nearby Vaxholm Fortress, a 16th century . . . fortress, but by this time I was a little ferried-out.

After leading us in circles for 15 minutes we settled in at Sportbarnummer10, an island favorite since 2009, for 0.4 liters of Fat21 lager and a local delicacy called a Klubb Smörgås. Then a coffee at the bakery creatively named Boulangerie where we overlooked the harbor and a large construction project that will enable Vaxholm to handle even more tourists (they're "gonna need a bigger boat!").

We took the 670 bus back which offered beautiful views of the Swedish country side from an immaculate double decker bus (just a tap of the credit card to board). We exited at Tekniska högskolan, which I knew was more than a little ways from our hotel as all the prices for beer at the adjacent bars were half the cost of what I paid at the place around the corner from the hotel the night before. We then walked 30 minutes back to the barn. After about 20 minutes I wasn't sure if we were on the right track but then I saw the Hop On Hop Off Red Bus and knew we were getting close.

A young lady on the ferry mentioned we should enjoy fika in the Djurgårdsbrunn neighborhood . . .

Fika is a Swedish custom, a break from activity during which people drink coffee and have a light snack. It’s a moment to pause, connect and recharge – often more about the company and conversation than the coffee itself. It is (not so) similar to, what is called in the States, a coffee break, except Swedes do not just gulp down a cup of coffee as fast as possible, so they can get back to work and grind out a few more dollars for someone else's wallet.

As we struck out for Djurgårdsbrunn we quickly realized it was going to be an hour walk and therefore it made more sense to sample that other Nordic obsession, the hot dog. We'd had one in Copenhagen, but as Sweden has put their own mark on this cuisine knew we had to sample the local version. After ducking into Östermalms Saluhall, which was entirely too upscale, we went across the street to Östermalms Grillen and had a Tunnbrödsrulle which believe it or not, is a Swedish tortilla rolled around a hot dog, mashed potatoes, shrimp salad, with ketchup and mustard. Filling but a little bland. If I had it to do over again (which I will not), I'd get a Tjockkorvsrulle, which substitutes bratwurst and chorizo for the dog. In all fairness it probably tastes much better at two in the morning.

If like me you only plan on visiting one museum in Stockholm, then make it the Vasa Museum. An immersive maritime museum about the largest warship in the world that sunk an hour into her maiden voyage in 1628 and then was salvaged almost intact 333 years later. Most museums are built and then stocked with history, this one was built around it. We hit the place at 0830 which was the best move we made in Stockholm as initially we had the place to ourselves until about 1000 when the smorgashords descended on us.

Stopped for fika overlooking the harbor at Ångbåtsbryggan, built on a barge from World War II. The server mentioned that Tennstopet offered the best meatball in Stockholm, so . . .

. . . that's a Swedish meatball!

Shortly after a thirty minute ride on the Stockholm Metro ("the T-bana"), we were enjoying a Herring Platter with five different herrings, served with Västerbotten cheese followed by a Wallenbergare, which from the looks of it is Swedish for "Mother of all Meatballs." All delivered by Daniel the barman, whose beard and stature made him look like a Viking (and my Swedish twin). When he asked if I wanted a menu in English, I reluctantly accepted mentioning "I've been in Sweden for a week and pretty much have the language down." If you find yourself in the Odenplan neighborhood, this is a must eat.

Our Viking feast was preceded by Beer O'clock views of Stockholm from the eponymous One Tap. The place serves Detroit pizza, as the owner previously traveled throughout North America and fell in love with the stuff, which could also explain the all the mezcal on the menu.

Beer O'clock

In my response to "Where do people in the bar industry go after work?" Daniel mentioned "Sturhof." So the next day . . .

Sturhof is a modern French brasserie focusing on Swedish seafood. It's frequented by locals, like like us, who were stopping in after a hard day's work for a pint of Mariestads Export, and some delicious "Grilled char, café de paris beurre blanc, leek oil and beans."

True to my vow, we took the 76 bus to the Tallink Stockholm to Tallin ferry terminal, wishing a plague upon Ahmed's house (and every other taxi driver we passed).

Bottom Line: Mrs. AAR liked Copenhagen more due to its vibe. I liked Stockholm more due to it being surrounded by water, its slightly less ridiculous prices and its increased safety, which had nothing to do with crime, and everything to do with exponentially less bicyclists trying to run me over.

Lodgings

The Missus made our Swedish arrangements and therefore our accommodations hewed a little more feminine, and by that I mean expensive. The Collector's Lady Hamilton Hotel with the "Collector's" either being in reference to the ownership company or all the bric-a-brac that is stored on every horizontal surface in the joint.

The place came with "Breakfast Included," which means as I paid for it as part of my room rate, I now had to eat it every morning, which worked out nicely as it was quite sumptuous. The warming station contained scrambled eggs, bacon, baked beans and scrambled tofu, to which I added some pickled herring, pickles and pâté. Inspired by my recent stay in Dublin I have now dubbed it a "Full Swedish Breakfast."

The place is located in Gamla stan which is either the "Old Town" of Stockholm, consisting primarily of the island Stadsholmen or one of the five Central Asian countries that were a part of of the Soviet Union until 1991. Actually though the word Old Town is derived from the Old Norse "ol tún" meaning "narrow cobblestone streets filled with tourists."

If you find yourself in need of more Stockholm, see my Stockholm Specifics Report.

Endnotes: I wanted to provide some very specific details that, while vaguely interesting, did not contribute to the overall narrative. Perhaps just wait until the end to enjoy.

¹ Augusti is August in Swedish.

² Per Travel Man Season 5, Episode 4 "48 Hours in Stockholm."

³ Hibou means owl in French, specifically owls with visible ear tufts. Owls without visible ear tufts are known as "Chouette." One is NOT living in the elevator/lift/hiss shaft and what I heard was a recorded owl scream.