“In Sweden, we have a saying: there is no bad weather, only bad clothes.” That’s what the woman selling me a beanie at Central Station said today. It’s a phrase I’ve heard many times in relation to Sweden—the idea that you just need to dress accordingly—and I actually thought I was pretty well-prepared. I had my puffer jacket and another layer compressed in my luggage, plus my thermal underwear. Wearing it all out today felt great, even in the sub-zero temperatures. I was fine everywhere except for my head and my hands.
Buying a beanie has been on my shopping list for a while, but it took all day to find a reasonable one at a decent price. I went to a department store and saw one for 400 kr (about $63 AUD), but there was no way I was spending that. The one I eventually found at Central was 129 kr (roughly $20 AUD) and it’s absolutely perfect. I still haven’t picked up gloves yet, though.
The best thing about the weather today was the sun. I’d seen the forecast last night, and there is something so brilliant about the combination of snow, ice, and a bright blue sky. It brightens everything up so much more than a grey sky. There were heaps of people out enjoying it. After breakfast, I hopped on a few buses—the 65, the 69, and the number 2—just to get my bearings again. Both the 65 and the 69 took me out of the inner city, which was great for seeing what was going on further out and getting a better look at the landscape. Seeing all that snow and ice still around really excited me; it’s one of the main reasons I wanted to come here at this time of year.
There’s something particularly thrilling for Australians about seeing proper snow and ice. It’s probably why everyone back home is currently glued to the Winter Olympics, even though we aren’t exactly a powerhouse in those sports
After my bus trips, I wandered around Skanstull in search of the mythical gloves and beanie, but had no luck there. I decided to head back towards the hotel, but made a detour to Gamla Stan. It’s possibly my favourite Tunnelbana stop in Stockholm. In the summer, I love walking over to the water near City Hall to watch the sun set into the lake. It’s pure magic. To my surprise, the entire lake was frozen over—not just sheets of ice, but solid. There were hundreds of people out there walking and ice skating.
I spoke to one woman who was sitting near me putting on ice grips over her shoes, and she told me, “This doesn’t happen every year. It’s very exciting.” There was such a lovely vibe. I asked a few people to take photos of me, and they were more than happy to help. They actually took fantastic shots, much better than the usual rushed tourist photos. I wanted to go out onto the ice itself, but I was a bit scared; the drop from the concrete ledge to the frozen water was too high, and I knew I’d never be able to climb back up.
I consoled myself with just being there to experience it, and then, quite unexpectedly, I burst into tears. It happened three separate times. They weren’t sad tears or “my life is terrible” tears; it was just a massive swelling of emotion. Given everything that’s happened to me over the last couple of years, the beauty of the moment just overwhelmed me.
After a bit of a recovery at the hotel, I went to Hotel Rival to see Tommy Körberg in concert. Tommy has been around since the late 60s and was a contemporary of ABBA—he knew Benny and Frida in the early days and worked on Chess and with the Benny Andersson Orchestra. He sang some beautiful, unusual choices tonight, including “Like an Angel Passing Through My Room,” “One Man, One Woman,” and “The Winner Takes It All”. He also performed “Anthem” from Chess. I actually saw him perform that in Brisbane in the mid-80s with Elaine Paige, and I still remember the standing ovation he got then. He got another one tonight, though this version was more playful and less of a traditional anthem.
He is clearly a beloved figure here. The average age of the audience was likely in their 70s, much like Tommy himself. The show had a wonderful 1960s variety-hour feel, full of anecdotes and wordplay. It was entirely in Swedish, but there was one joke where the punchline was in English, and I laughed before everyone else did because I saw it coming. Not being able to follow every story didn’t matter; I was there for the music and the atmosphere.
I had a vague idea about going out for dinner, but looking at my step count—16,853 steps —I think I’ve done enough. It’s only 6:30 pm, but I’m ready to rest up for another early start tomorrow.