Pretty, Pretty Stockholm

I saw a man smoking a corncob pipe today. Didn’t Frosty the Snowman smoke a corncob pipe? The man looked quite content in his wool cap, vest, and pipe as he walked along Katarinavagen toward the old city here in Stockholm. I am visiting my friend Micke, a friend I met in Zambia, who has a lovely apartment in a rather sheik part of the city. He is an artist, so it is full of interesting things. It is the kind of apartment that has new details to observe in every nook and cranny. I like it.

Micke was rather blasé about the Gamla Stans, the old part of the city, but there is good reason to be impressed by the charming cobblestone streets, narrow alleys, and old homes. Last night we went to a church service in a quaint wooden church, architecturally known as “Norse romantic.” I felt quite at home in the service despite the fact that I do not speak Swedish. The service began at sunset and the church was packed with people, surprising here in Sweden where so few people consider themselves religious. The warm candlelight and simple piano music created a meditative space, but the mild-mannered priest who wore jeans and red tennis shoes under his alb and collar was especially charming.

Fall is an exquisite time of year. The leaves, all yellow and red and green, cling to their branches as they bask in the golden light of September. I am such a romantic, but I suppose it is especially easy to be romantic this time of year.

Here are a couple of observations I have made in the last week here in beautiful Scandinavia: One, tights are in right now. Green tights, black tights, brown tights. Tights are all the rage. Tights and boots. I am doing my best to fit in with my little gray, wool jacket and navy scarf, but I don’t have the sexy Scandinavian look mastered. I think I need to drop 20 pounds and pick up a smoking habit. Two, I do not feel like a freakshow here as a 31 year-old single woman. In the U.S. approximately 90% of my friends are married and while this is delightful, sometimes I feel quite abnormal. Here most people are single at 31, so I feel young and fun and very, very normal. This is refreshing.

Tonight we will go for dinner in a little cottage belonging to Micke’s girlfriend. As I write this Micke is sitting next to me writing an email while mindlessly humming a tune that is quite cheerful. We human beings are so quirky. Wishing you well, wherever this note finds you!