Waiting for the sun (Copenhagen, Denmark part 2)

Hello again dear reader, today's title might be somewhat of a give away. After yesterday's beautiful sunny afternoon we returned to more familiar patterns of grey cloud and drizzle. Well, following a brief burst of morning sunshine. Once again we were left waiting for the sun, a classic from one of the best bands to come out of America, The Doors.

Our discovery of Copenhagen continues. There is so much to do here, museums, galleries, historic buildings and statues, of course. Being here over Easter has limited our options due to public holidays so we have decided we will definitely return in their summer next year. Although our accommodation is spacious and very central, we hope to stay in the same building but on the ground floor.

Our second full day was also affected by the weather. The cold has really not been an issue for us. Thermals, a warm coat and gloves and a beanie work wonders. Even the rain hasn't been such a problem. Drizzle is never far away and mostly is just an inconvenience since it is so light. Not today. Rain is predicted.

Our place through the Rosenborg gate.

At breakfast we returned to Buka to sample different pastries but still with a double espresso. It was reasonably cool, but not cold. We returned home to rescue the washing and place it in the drier.

Reffen

Initially our intention was to go to Reffen in the morning before the rain set in. Despite Easter, Reffen was open and had a number of events happening to attract the holiday crowd. There's food, alcohol, music and dancing. Some Christian religions would be appalled.

Reffen is a street food market where you can buy street food, obvious, but also fresh food to take home and cook. It was a 30 minute bus ride and given the weather and the need to check out the station for our impending departure, Reffen got the flick. Until next time.

Central Station

The bag-drag to our accommodation was defined by crowds, cobblestones and misdirection. Walking 2 km with a wheelie bag is OK if the conditions are kind. I was determined to arrive at the station on Saturday, not stressed or tired or sweating profusely. Searching for the route that would deliver this was problematic because a lot of it was similar to the reason why the LNP elected Dutton as leader, a mystery.

The back of the Church of the Trinity.

We set the GPS which immediately redirected us to the path we had trodden a couple of days before. Useless. With a rough map in my head, we continued on regardless until Google caught up with us. I ditched Declan for this excursion. It proved to be an interesting morning. We finally found the Roundtower which is part of the Church of the Trinity. There was quite a queue to walk up the spiral ramp. The line moved slowly and we had other plans.

The Roundtower.

A little further along our chosen path, we came across two armed soldiers patrolling a section of road that had been closed to cars by the installation of metal swing gates at either end. Interesting. On the fence protecting the building from the street and passing traffic were laminated photographs each captioned "bring them home". It was outside the Great Synagogue. No photos.

The spire of St Peter's.

The rest of the walk was unremarkable. Cafés, restaurants, shops of various descriptions, the usual medley of buildings and businesses. The cobblestones still made their presence felt but not to the extent of our previous trek.

We arrived at the station in 35 minutes, including time for me stop and take photographs, found the required platform and returned home before the drizzle turned to rain. And to see if the washing was dry. Navigating washing machines and dryers is a little challenging when all the controls are marked in Danish or German.

Part of the bike storage at Copenhagen Central Station.

The rain increased in intensity and kept us indoors for the afternoon. Once it cleared, we ventured out in search of dinner.

Bistro 23

The rain had gone but the wind had picked up and it was certainly like a slap in the face if you turned into it. Jayne's coat has a hood and I wore a beanie as we set out to find a restaurant that served steak. That was the easy part. The French influence ensured there were many offerings of steak et frites. The problem was in the size of the offering.

Bistro 23 from across the water.

The first restaurant had the steak but not anything for Jayne. The next offered a 300g steak, way too much for me. And so we kept wandering and reading menus, passing many, many pizza places until we were back at Kongens Nytorv, a stone's throw from Nyhavn.

As I said in the last post, Nyhavn is lined with restaurants but we were uncertain whether they offered seating inside. All the action on a sunny day was outside. As we walked alongside the King's New Square where yesterday we sat in the sun and sipped beer, Jayne quipped, "I'll bet there is no problem getting a seat over there now." A particularly icy blast send my hands deeper into my pockets. She was right, there were plenty of seats available, but amazingly there were also some hardy souls sitting at tables drinking cocktails. And smoking of course.

Flowering bulbs hanging outside a florist.

We soldiered on until we stumbled across Bistro 23 in Nyhavn. A French Bistro with the right dishes, a waiter with a good sense of humour and most importantly, tables inside out of the wind. We may have left the Arctic circle but tonight it hadn't left us.

We had a delightful meal accompanied by a silky, smooth French red. My steak was perfectly cooked and Jayne's lamb chops turned out to be a rack of lamb. No complaints here. We were warm and comfortable and outside the smokers, rugged up like Kenny from Southpark, we're enduring freezing winds so they could feed their habit. Brave? Determined? Stupid? Addicted? I'm not judging, just smirking with a kind of Scott Morrison smugness.

Caspar, our waiter, gave us his card. We told him we'd see him in the summer next year. He thought national service might intervene on our rendezvous. He had not been required this year because there were too many candidates. I guess we'll see. I've written his name on the card so we won't forget.

It was a 10 minute stroll home. We really are in a central location.

Until next time.

Good Day Sunshine (Copenhagen, Denmark, part 1)

During our exploration of our local area yesterday, dear reader, we came across Taste, a French patisserie not far from home. The wheelie bag drag from the station took us through the Latin Quarter and it appears we live near the French Quarter. Why is there never an Australian Quarter? Good taste perhaps?

I digress. Taste was the destination for breakfast not just because of the mouth watering pecan pie Jayne saw in the window. It was also next door to Marmorkirken, our first tourist stop for the day. Alas and alack, Taste had done the French thing with a random bridge day closure. The public holidays actually commence tomorrow (Thursday). Taste has gone next level though and is closed for 7 days.

An act of defiance.

Fortunately there was another bakery about 100 metres back down the road, Baku. A quick about face had us seated and enjoying good coffee and excellent Danish pastries. Who needs the French? We also purchased a baguette because they looked so good. As we were leaving, we enquired about their holiday hours. "No change," was the reply. "We have usual hours of operation." Breakfast over the Easter period is solved.

Marmorkirken

Rather than turn our dinner baguette into a tourist, we returned home, left it in the kitchen and traced our steps back to Marmorkirken. The French influence is obvious throughout Scandinavia in many ways. Take the best view of a significant landmark or other tourist attraction and destroy it by parking trucks in front, or turning the plaza into a Metro station. The Danes did both with Marmorkirken.

Marmorkirken.

It has an absolutely magnificent, sky dominating dome that can be seen from many different points around the city. When there are not major refurbishment programs occuring, like now, the view from the Opera House back through the square that houses the four palaces to the church is simply awe inspiring.

The size of the dome and the church underneath made it difficult to take a photograph that captured it all. Especially one that didn't include a parking area or passing traffic. But I tried.

One of the identical palaces.

Amalienborg Slot

This is an area just beyond Marmorkirken. It is a huge cobblestoned square (not really) that contains four identical palaces that face the equestrian statue in the centre. In one of these places reside the Danish royals and our Mary of course. It is here that the changing of the guard occurs everyday at noon. And do the people turn out to watch? Oh, yes, in big numbers.

A guard that required changing.

Prior to the changing of the guard, we visited the one palace open to tourists. There were two floors open to the public. On one floor there was a look back at recent Danish kings including a timeline that traced the current royals. The rooms were filled with memorabilia from earlier reigns. There were photos, books, swords, riding paraphernalia and pipes. Lots of pipes. The Danes love a smoke. Quite a curiosity for us as smoking is not such a thing in Australia.

A champagne cooler, not a baby bath. They must drink more than us.

The other floor was pretty much devoted to the new king, Frederik X with lots of photos and video presentations of the royal wedding, his pre-nuptial life and the coronation.

Our Mary and some guy she meet in a bar.

Tour complete, we joined the ever growing crowd for the changing of the guard. Suddenly at 11:45am people began running to get into position. No ropes and barriers like we experienced in Sweden. Hence we found ourselves at the rear of the crowd, no matter where we tried to position ourselves. I gave up and moved away from the throng and left Jayne to try to spectate. From what we could see, not much was going on, so we departed the square, somewhat disappointed.

The crowd watching the changing of the guard.

Nyhavn

We discovered we weren't far from Nyhavn (new port) and wanted to have a look at this part of town because our canal cruise leaves from there on Friday. The walk would also take us along the waterfront and hopefully to an area where I could get a clear shot of the Opera House without the fencing and construction works in the way.

It did. There is a vast wharf area called Ofelia Plads near the Skuespilhuset which appears to be an entertainment centre of sorts; currently featuring Madame Butterfly. Not sure why this wasn't at the Opera House. From there, we could see a bridge crossing the canal to what looked like markets. So over we went.

The Opera House across the water.

There appeared to be an inordinate number of couples kissing on the bridge (bikes and pedestrian traffic only). Ever the romantic, I asked Jayne if she wanted me to kiss her. You know what the reply was, dear reader. Later I discovered this is the 'kissing bridge'. And the markets on the other side turned out to be a street food area.

No hot dogs.

Excellent we thought, we can get a Danish hot dog. It's a thing one must do, apparently. We circled the area checking out each food stall. No deal. You can get pasta, Mexican, Vietnamese, fish and chips, and more, but no Danish hot dog. Back across the bridge (still no kiss) to Nyhavn.

Nyhavn.

This is an area similar to Bryggen in Bergen but with life and lots of people. The sun was out and people were enjoying it. One side of the canal is lined with bars and restaurants. Hopefully the forecast rain will clear quickly and we will get to eat here later in the week. 

We found where our cruise will commence on Friday and turned towards home. We wandered looking for a restaurant last night and one turn in a different direction would have led us down here where the options were too numerous to count.

Kongens Nytorv

It was less than 10 minutes walk home and just out of Nyhavn, we stumbled on Kongens Nytorv, a huge cobblestoned square constructed in 1907. Translated it is the king's new square. Near one side of it was a small pavillion surrounded by deck chairs and small tables. We had walked a long way and had been on our feet for a while so it was time for a Carlsberg, the local beer, and to enjoy the first extended sunshine we'd seen since home. And today's title, Good Day Sunshine by the best ever band The Beatles from their 1966 Revolver album.

It was a great place to people watch and 'enjoy' the second hand cigarette and cigar smoke of the locals who haven't heard that smoking is not good for your health. It would appear that the Danes have yet to decide that vaping is a preferable alternative - we haven't seen one vaper since we arrived here. We did, however, see some other interesting sights. People certainly get dressed up to go on a tour of the city. A very sparkly skirt and matching sneakers. Her friend was wearing full length fur. Not quite appropriate unless you're wanting to demonstrate how much money you have.

Overdressed yes?

After the beer, it was time to wander home or rather, to another tourist destination.

Rosenborg Slot

The Rosenborg castle is in Kongens Have (the king's haven), the park directly across the street from our accommodation  and we visited it in the afternoon, post grocery shopping. We're not really sure what will be open tomorrow given the holiday period is commencing.

Rosenborg Slot.

The park itself, the oldest in Copenhagen, is well utilised by people walking dogs and tourists checking out the sights. The flowers are beginning to bloom and the trees are coming back into leaf. The sun was still shining so there were a lot of people out and about, including bus trips visiting the castle.

There were soldiers everywhere around the castle. Jayne was singularly unimpressed by their marching. I was equally amazed at how they held their rifles. We watched some of them practising, badly, before we turned for home.

What a rabble.

Dinner tonight was the delightful baguette purchased from Buka earlier in the day with ham, cheese and tomato accompanied by a French Sauvignon.

The dome is visible everywhere.

Sadly the sun has gone down and rain is predicted.

Until next time.

Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen (Gothenburg, Sweden to Copenhagen, Denmark)

The excitement of Gothenburg became too much for one post, dear reader, so here we are. And yes, we do get to Copenhagen and today's title. I know, an early reveal. Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen by Danny Kaye from the 1952 musical Hans Christian Andersen. It's time to a rekindle memory or just to be appalled by the music of the '50s. Your call, but listen here. Given the trend to 'revive' musicals I am mystified as to why this one hasn't hit the stage again.

Flowers are beginning to emerge.

Day 3

Monday (time is fluid). The systembolaget would be open today. Super excitement. On the way to find food to start the day Jayne reported our room hadn't been serviced. The response was underwhelming and the woman at the desk began making excuses. "Maybe you sent them away." No. "Maybe you had 'do not disturb' on the door." No. "I'll have it attended to immediately." she said as we left for breakfast in Haga. 

In case you don't know there is a sign: HAGA.

We had deliberately delayed our arrival at Haga to ensure there were more stores open. In reality it is one long street of timber fronted stores. It is like Berry in NSW stretched along one street with little car traffic. There are a number of antique stores, cafés, clothing, souvenir and quirky gift shops.

The Skansen Kronan. Not a great photo.

We selected a different café for breakfast. In an unexpected move that Jayne said would only disappoint, I swapped my double espresso for a double shot Americano. She was right. It was a disappointment. But the pastry that accompanied it was spot on.

Fish Church

Following breakfast, we walked down towards the river and the fish market which has been dubbed the fish church because of the building's resemblance to a church. It has been undergoing renovation and was due to open in 2023, according to the official Gothenburg tourist booklet. As you can see from the photo, like SJ trains, they are running behind schedule.

Pray to the seafood.

The walk along the waterfront was not as scenic as we had hoped and we deviated back along the canal, towards the hotel and what I thought was a church. It had a clock in the steeple we noted from a distance. Clearly not a church. As we got closer we could see crosses on the lower roof line. A church with a clock in the main steeple. That's something we've never seen before.

Christchurch, Gothenburg.

Back to the hotel to change bags and grab the backpack, to find our room was still unclean. Hmmm. It was still early.

Lunch

Wine supply secured, we returned to the market hall in search of Swedish meatballs. The food in the market looked amazing, but the restaurants mostly had bar type tables. Not what we were looking for. The problem we realised, once outside, was that if the restaurant did not feature an English menu we had no idea what Swedish meatballs were called in Swedish. Thankfully Google translator did: Kötbullar.

Fortunately the restaurant across the road served Kötbullar so in we went. The staff were lovely and produced an English menu for us. The starter was free as was the bread, salad, biscuits and brewed coffee. We were amused by one of the wines on offer, a shiraz from Australia called Don't tell Gary. It's McPhersons wines in Victoria. No we didn't drink it; we opted for an Italian red to go with our Swedish meatballs.

Yeah, I had to Google it. It's a sculpture of a girl in a green dress riding a mythical animal.

Everything was going well until ... I placed my knife on the side of my plate and was reaching for my phone when the knife slipped. Not wanting it to fall on the floor, I pushed on it with my free hand. It stopped the slide to the ground, but in doing so, created a force that transferred up the handle to the blade. The blade was covered in thick, luscious, dark gravy. I may as well have picked up a spoon full of gravy and flicked it over myself. And over my shoulder. Fortunately, or unfortunately for the comic aspect of this catastrophe, there was no one sitting behind me. Gravy, spotted from right shoulder to cuff and one lone heart shot. Cruel. And on a clean shirt.

The Final Afternoon

Despite the desecration of my shirt, we went to the shopping mall to purchase a few requisites for tomorrow's travel. We opted for Lidl, another discount German chain similar to Aldi. It's a cheap option but I'm still  not sure about some of the product we purchased.

As we were leaving, the drizzle re-commenced so we went straight back to the hotel. Would our room finally have made the service list? I mean we were promised immediate action this morning and that hadn't happened on our pre-lunch visit.

A children's play area in Haga. We'll discuss later.

We opened the door to find ... the room exactly as we had left it. So, we dropped our bags, grabbed the computer and went to reception. This time we spoke with the concierge. Before he knew our room number, he said someone had been sent to clean it after we complained that morning. I don't think so. Then he asked for our room number so he could send someone there immediately.

The robot was cleaning the hallways - maybe we should have sent it to our room.

We adjourned to the bar and blogged. No drinks. they didn't deserve our money. After an hour, we went to the room to find it had been cursorily cleaned. The bed looked like it had been made by a teenager. The floor hadn't been vacuumed but we had clean glasses (we hope).

That night we switched on the TV and came across an English program called Shetland. Two episodes in. We're addicted.  It's like the Australian show Dead Loch without the humour. I'll be chasing that when we get home.

Leaving Gothenburg

At check out the next day, the woman on reception did the usual, "How was your stay?" So, Jayne told her. The result of the non-housekeeping was she removed the charge for the bottle of wine we had one evening. Cool. Still won't be going back to Radisson Blu anytime soon.

Across the cobbled pavers into the station. Bags stowed. Seats facing the direction of travel. The train left on time. Everything was looking good. Our connecting train that we were picking up at Malmö was 20 minutes late leaving Stockholm, but by the time it reached Malmö it was only 5 minutes behind schedule.

Copenhagen or København

We arrived close enough to the scheduled time. The difficulty was, as always, getting form the station to the accommodation. It was supposed to be a 30 minute walk. The part walk/part train journey was still a 750m walk and involved navigating a train system of which we had absolutely no knowledge.

It was a nice day. The sun was shining, something we hadn't seen for a while. We decided to trust Declan and typed the address into the phone. I must say, we were a little bit disappointed that Mary hadn't sent someone to meet us at the station, given we are almost family, (we've been to Tasmania and we have also walked past the Slipp Inn at Darling Harbour, as opposed to the Ship Inn at the Quay).

Anyway after dragging the bags about 400 metres we decided we were headed in the wrong direction and returned to our point of origin and started over. What followed was a fun filled 30 minutes or so of dragging our bags across Denmark's quaintly paved footpaths. They are all partly solid, the other section is cobbled. Not really designed for wheelie bags, but so cool for tourists.

As a result of Declan's penchant for zigzagging through streets, we saw much of the Latin quarter before we reached our accommodation. It was Tuesday afternoon but the streets were very crowded. Jayne was navigating so the fact we walked past the Pandora shop was, I'm absolutely certain, coincidental.

And then ...

Accommodation discovered. Eventually. It's never as easy as it is supposed to be. Sadly it was on the second floor, up three flights of stairs. Equally sadly, there were four different digital locks to negotiate before we could get in. That's more security than we have at home. There was, of course, a trick to mastering the digital locks but we got there, thankfully still in daylight.

The apartment is everything we need and is extremely well situated. Bags unpacked, we went in search of a supermarket and some wine. As it turned out, they were one and the same since Denmark, for some reason, has not subscribed to the rest of Scandinavia's prohibitive approach to the sale of alcohol. Our shopping done, we turned our attention to dinner. Given how well located we are, how difficult could that be?

This is our place. Well, the entry.

Not so simple if you don't know where things are. We wandered for a while and stumbled across the Pandora store again.  Time was on our side. In we went, Danish charm, a crown in honour of our Mary, Queen of Denmark purchased, dinner then moved to top priority.

It was no easy task, dear reader, but you have suffered enough for one blog so I shall end this forthwith. We found a tiny Italian restaurant in a cellar. Great food and wine and, as we settled in for our meal, the people kept coming and coming. Some were turned away. Others were more defiant and stood and waited in the tiny area near the entry stairs.

We didn't linger over dinner and relinquished our table to those so desperate as to stand and wait.

Until next time. 

Why won't they leave us alone? (Stockholm to Gothenburg, Sweden)

And so, dear reader, it was with fear and trepidation we departed Stockholm and dragged our bags towards Central Station. We had selected a smoother route, one that limited the cobblestones and small pavers. We made the station in good time and loitered near the platform from which our train would be departing. Seating was at a premium and if you got up to stretch your legs it was likely your spot would be taken before you had walked a few metres. Thankfully I like to roam around so, once Jayne was seated with our bags, I went in search of the mysterious platform 9. No luck. It remains a mystery.

Our train arrived on time, but it required cleaning for the next leg of the journey. We were, therefore, 20 minutes late leaving. While that was not a concern for us - we couldn't get into the hotel until 3pm anyway, there were plenty of people with connecting trains at Gothenburg that would be inconvenienced.

The high speed trains are fabulous and I still can't understand why Australia has not gone down this path. The thing of note on the journey was the guy across the aisle with his headphones on singing to himself. Funny. And annoying.

Gothenburg or Göteborg is another university town and is Sweden's second largest city. We are here for three days because I wanted to break up the journey from Stockholm to Copenhagen. Given the speed of the trains it probably wasn't necessary. In an ironic twist, we will need to change trains on the way to Copenhagen and the connecting train commenced its journey in Stockholm.

Interesting architecture everywhere.

We are staying in a hotel, the Radisson Blu Scandinavia. It is a popular chain over here and is also directly opposite central station. Despite Declan, our GPS, wanting to walk us down one side of the canal to turn and retrace our steps, I cleverly noted the hotel sign emblazoned in 3 metre high blue neon and headed directly there. I had decided to upgrade to a suite, given our baggage. Good decision.

Systembolaget

There is a lot to like about Sweden. Bottle shop or Systembolaget opening hours is not on the list. We dropped our bags, unpacked a few things, checked the map, grabbed the backpack and headed for the bottle shop. Should you ever travel this way, dear reader, and are in search of take home alcohol, the term to Google is 'liquor store'. Cheers America.

An insect hotel near the bottle shop.

Anyway the systembolaget was less than 10 minutes walk from the hotel through the Inner City past numerous shops, cafés and restaurants. The weather was predicted to be fine and we wandered our new locale, taking in the sights as we went. Sadly, there were KFC and McDonalds amongst the more interesting eateries.

As we passed the local market, noted for a later visit, it began to rain. Not heavily. Just enough to be annoying and ensure you would be uncomfortable. Not to worry, our destination was nearby and we could shelter there making our wine choices.

Good try. Fail. The bottle shop had closed at 3pm, as it was Saturday, and wouldn't reopen until Monday morning. I am uncertain if this is some puritanical religious bent tied to decades past or a clever ploy to get the locals out to eat and drink on weekends. If the latter, it worked for us.

Dinner 

A restaurant had already been selected prior to leaving the hotel so we navigated our way there. It was Italian of course. I have never seen so many Italian restaurants, with the possible exception of Italy. The rain had stopped, we arrived at the restaurant and were shown to our table by a delightful young woman who chatted to us about Gothenburg and things we could do. Especially as Sunday is a day when many places are closed.

The restaurant was one of those order at the table places that popped up everywhere during COVID in Australia. In Sweden they are going completely cashless and most places accept card only. Wouldn't that cause Bob Katter and Barnaby Joyce to have an apoplexy? Be worth it for that alone.

So we decided a long lunch drifting into dinner was required. We began with olives and wine and the order went through without a problem. We sat and chatted and watched people coming and going. Later I ordered our mains and the system would not accept my card. Curious. It worked an hour ago. Over to the counter to speak to the people. It wouldn't work manually either.

They didn't take Amex so we were limited in what we could do. Jayne came over and attempted to pay with her card. Also rejected. About 8 times just to reinforce the point. Back at the table I tried again using Apple Pay. Success! Who knows why or how. Dinner was on its way.

And when it finally arrived, disappointment. My pizza was OK. Uncut, but OK. What is with that? Jayne's carbonara was swimming in egg wash. Disgusting.

Day 2

When you're travelling overseas, dear reader, there are many ways to start a day badly. One is to open your email and discover your VISA card has been suspended due to suspicious activity. For perspective, we have been away for a month and although it's not my main card, it gets used where Amex is not accepted. It has, therefore, been used in England and Norway, but apparently Sweden is a totally sus country and it was is now locked.

The only solution? Phone Australia. Do not respond to the email. Phone. The sim card I purchased is data only and I've tried making calls over the net but it doesn't work. Thankfully Jayne's phone did and I called HSBC in Sydney, well it was a Sydney number. After the usual 10 minutes on hold, I got to discuss the issue with someone in the fraud team. 

It's a school. Not Hogwarts.

She asked me if I authorised a purchase for $181AUD and provided the trading name. Really? Trading names are not generally the name of the establishment where you spent the money. I told her I bought dinner at an Italian restaurant in Sweden and named the two amounts spent in SEK. "Oh," she said, "You're in Sweden." This woman's progeny will never work on rockets.

Anyway, card restored it was time to search for breakfast. A potential challenge on a Sunday so we headed for Haga, a tourist area.

Haga

It was still early by Swedish standards and even the tourist area was quiet. There were a few cafés open and all were well patronised, as if to prove to the authorities that Sunday trading would be a beneficial move.

Reflective.

Finally we found a table in the third café and joined the queue to order. We tend not to eat much when we travel, a light breakfast and one meal usually suffices. The usual double espressos, a croissant and Jayne had something sweet, I can't remember the name. 

We didn't stay to explore Haga because we were returning the next day. Today we were going to the Museum of Natural History. Why? Because museums are open on Sundays, unlike the rest of Sweden and closed on Mondays.

It looked harmless enough from below.

Museum of Natural History

Admittedly it is a while since I've been to a museum of this sort. It is also billed as a museum of taxidermy. Their big claim to fame? A stuffed blue whale. I kid you not. Now I'm no taxidermist, so I'm not really in a position to criticise, but ... well, you'll see from the pictures.

The walk to museum passed the Skansen Kronan, a 17th century fortress. It is on top a hill of course with a great view. It can wait till the walk home.

The Skansen Kronan.

Walking through the doors of the museum was akin to wandering into a day care centre. It was all light and movement and screaming children and ambivalent parents. It appears museums are very popular on Sunday.

The magpies are really colourful.

The lockers were all taken which meant carrying our bags and coats. We climbed the spiral staircase to the top floor to work our way back down. In short, it is the museum of taxidermy. There were a few skeletons and some hands-on explanatory displays for kids. Otherwise it was stuffed animals.

Even the bear is looking away.

Stuffed birds, mammals, fish, assorted sea creatures, you get the idea. The museum, the oldest in Gothenburg, opened in 1905 and some of the exhibits looked like they were original. Particularly the birds, losing feathers, faded colour and a generally moth-eaten appearance.

The two floors of exhibits generated that wonderful echo sound that little children so enjoy to make. Some so much, they had what looked and sounded like a 'scream off' with other children. Yes, this was fun, dear reader.

An anorexic giraffe looking in a mirror.

And then the whale, the prize exhibit. I photographed it from above as well as from ground level. The lines on the side of the whale turned out be where it was cut open. To reseal it they used screws. It's head had three very large hinges. I assume this is for educational purposes so you can look inside. I thought it was just weird and unattractive and ultimately it didn't look real. Which also brings us to the title of this post, Why won't they leave us alone that timeless 1986 classic from Dot and the Whale. Do yourself a favour.

Hinges and screws.

After passing through the mammal exhibit, replete with a giraffe, elephant, moose, buffalo, bear and Australian marsupials. We exited to take a wander in the adjacent perimeter of the botanic garden.  The gardens would no doubt look far more impressive in the summer and the scale of the space seems akin to our national parks as there is 360 kms of cycling track within its precinct.

Skansen Kronan

Our return journey took us back to the fortress, built in 1687-9, that lies in the heart of the city. It is perched on a hilltop, accessible by a zig-zag pathway. It is steep to access on one side and there is a more meandering path on the other. The view from the top was overrated. It looked across the city towards the storm clouds in the distance. 

Nice day for a walk.

There were many locals out walking their pets and not all of them were dogs. We were amazed to see people walking their cats, not on a leash. It was tempting to stay and watch what was about to unfold because two dogs were waiting around the next bend in the path.

Cat walking. No leash.

We turned for Norstad, the large shopping mall near the hotel in search of the yellow all weather coat I didn't buy in Tromsø. Once again to no avail. We found a Pandora store although Jayne didn't like the specifically Swedish offering so there was no purchase.

Mini golf. No nerds out today.

Back at the hotel our room hadn't been serviced so we adjourned to the bar with the computer to sort out our last leg of unbooked travel, Prague to Vienna. After considerable research looking at the two different train companies and whether it was better to book through Prague or Vienna, I finally made a decision. I booked through the Czechia site because it allowed you to select seats where the Austrian site did not and the private train company couldn't guarantee us seats together. Stressful, but done.

Retiring for the evening we discovered our room had been ignored and had not been serviced. Oh, well, we'll discuss that on the way tomorrow.

Until next time.

Runaway (Stockholm, Sweden, part 2)

Our host had put together an online guidebook covering the sights to see as well as the basics like cafés, bars and restaurants. Today we tried Fabrique for breakfast. It is a chain but had good reviews from others online, one a Frenchman, so we thought why not? It didn't live up to the standards of yesterday's café, but for a chain it was very good. Although not good enough to see us return tomorrow.

Lots of narrow laneways.

There is probably enough to see in the old town for the time we are here. Again, because we are out of peak season, dear reader, many attractions have limited hours or have reduced offers of tours. Stockholm in summer looks like a real possibility in 2025. Having decided to stay local on Gamla Stan, following breakfast, we strolled to the palace.

The place where the nobility hang out.

The Arrival

Signposting has, at varying stages proved to be somewhat of a challenge. Finding the entry to the palace was another one. Jayne had decided the entrance was where a guard had been strategically placed. Close, but no. We were directed up a set of stairs. There were a small sign at the bottom of the stairs or at the top where they finished. There was only one option to move forward and as we rounded the corner of the building, we were met by a rope prohibiting further progress and a soldier with a rifle to reinforce the point.

Nothing seems to explain this place.

It was too early for the changing of the guard. Yet the soldiers had all marched out of their barracks and were standing in formation. We watched and waited. Around the corner came two horse drawn carriages. Excitement. Is it the king? From the second carriage, an imperious white glove waved to Jayne and only to Jayne. Well, that's her story.

Jayne's friend waving to her. Look closely.

A set of doors opened in the wall of the palace and the carriages disappeared. The soldiers then completed their routine and marched back to the barracks. Well, marched is not quite correct. It started as a march and finished as a high stepping jog. Most amusing. More on that later.

Run away. Run away.

The Palace or Kungliga Slottet

The excitement over, the ropes were dropped and we joined the queue for entry into the palace. It being out of season, there were no guided tours during the week. The number of rooms available for access was also limited but there was enough to keep us occupied for about four hours.

I said, "it's over there".

There were three areas open to the public: a series of rooms in the palace itself, the treasury which was in a downstairs section and an area called Three Crowns Museum, also below ground level.

The palace apartments are divided into the the guest accommodation and the royal family rooms and offices. There are some state rooms with regalia and award displays, as well as the ubiquitous gift shop, in between the two sections, connected by ornate marble staircases. 

You could just lie on the floor.

We started off at our own pace with the audio guide but very quickly were assailed by a rather large school excursion of teenagers who were being afforded a tour by a very verbose guide. She took forever to extoll the features and anecdotes of several of the spaces, while we waited to for them move on so we could read and listen to the information provided in English. To try to go ahead was pointless because the tour was not stopping in every room and we would be leap frogged again. 

It's silver but you'd need a blanket.

Eventually we overtook them in the state room and headed straight into the long hall that has been modelled on the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. We could definitely see the inspiration at work in the Karl XI Gallery, but like the Schönbrunn Palace in Austria which is also supposed to have been built to rival Louis XIV's masterpiece, this was no competition for the real thing (although the mirrors were of a better standard).

Another Versailles copy.

After a patient wait, the bored teenagers disappeared although their teachers remained behind to chat to the verbose guide while their charges wandered off unsupervised. Hope they didn't graffiti some priceless royal artefacts. Eventually the hall was vacant and we could admire the space and take photographs unhindered before heading down to the palace forecourt for the scheduled changing of the guards at 12:15pm.

A chandelier from beneath. Almost got it.

A small crowd had gathered in the roped off areas and we selected our vantage point near another young soldier who was tasked with crowd control to keep the pathways clear.  After a P.A. welcome, the trumpeter and drummer appeared and right on time, the regiment came forth with much marching in formation to eventually make the required change of guard.  Having watched the previous military ritual that accompanied the arrival of the coaches (disappointingly bearing an ambassador not the king, we had been told), we were ready for what we considered the slightly undignified exit that is part of the ceremony.

Today's title is courtesy to the undignified running away of the Swedish guard. Runaway by The Corrs.

Three Crowns

Once this was all captured on camera, we headed back inside the palace to go down into the Three Crowns Museum. Interestingly the Three Crown Museum did not contain three crowns. Or even one in fact. It provided a potted history of the castle, its birth, death in 1697 after a major fire and resurrection into its present form. The three crowns refer to the Swedish coat of arms which bears three crowns.

Much of the original palace was built of wood with peat rooves. A bonfire waiting to happen. To combat this, the use of peat was banned at one point and stone was supposed to be used in construction of the buildings. But kings, being ultimate, all powerful rulers, could change their minds. And one did, authorising the last pre-fire extensions to be completed in wood. Hindsight is wonderful but not helpful.

The other fire prevention strategy was hope. No, just kidding, it was the appointment of a fire watcher. Just like the education system in Australia, it is a position created to allow the blame to be shifted away from those who are really responsible. And shift it did. Following the fire, the chief fire watcher and a number of his assistants were sentenced to running the gauntlet.

This consisted of running between two rows of soldiers who were armed with sticks or weapons to beat you as you ran, walked, staggered past. The chief fire watcher was sentenced to 7 runs which is actually 14 because you need to return to the point of commencement. It doesn't record how many soldiers are involved but the diorama suggested at least 50 on each side. Anders Andersen, the fire watcher, did not survive. To be fair though he had deserted his post and gone to get some dinner. I hope he enjoyed it.

The Treasury

The treasury was around the otherside of the palace; a walk that took us back onto the streets of Gamla Stan. It is here that the crowns are kept. As well as other items of royal importance, historical significance and value, (orbs, sceptres, swords etc). This by general standards is a very small display and we negotiated it in less than 15 minutes.

It was then time to return to our apartment for a rest, followed by walking the tourist loop of Gamla Stan to ensure that in our random meanderings, we had not missed any sights of note. We hadn't.

Bistrot Marie

Then it was time to go to dinner at one of our host's recommended restaurants, Bistrot Marie. Jayne was excited. She'd read the reviews and apparently their version of Swedish meatballs was to die for. Maybe that is what the chief fire watcher ate that fateful night.

Another Great Tit.

Nothing is far away in the old town and the restaurant was about a 5 minute walk. We were comfortably seated when Jayne discovered there were no Swedish meatballs on the menu. Horror! The waitress assured us that the Wallenbergare was similar. We ordered that and a freshly baked baguette.

The discussion around wine was something else. Issues with delivery meant the wine menu was inaccurate. We discussed having a white and our lovely hostess insisted we try the wine before making a decision. We tried two whites for two rejections and settled on an Italian Barbaresco which complemented the giant veal meatball beautifully.

If you have to say it, it's not true.

Day 4

On our wanderings yesterday we discovered another place for breakfast, Panem and that is where we headed this morning. As we arrived four women (insert country of prejudice) walked in front of us. There was one person working behind the counter. They discussed what to have. They ordered. They changed their order. They looked at other options. Changed their order and changed it back it again. Asked to pay all together and then when the bill was presented asked if they could pay separately. Then decided they wanted the bill split evenly into four, which the computerised/itemised register would not allow. Totally unconcerned about the queue growing behind them.

Pippi is everywhere

It was, however, worth the wait. Great pastries and excellent coffee. Warmed and sustained, we headed for Slussen on the other side of the island and the ferry to Djurgården to visit the Vasa Museum. A 15 minute trip that cost me 14 cents.

Vasa Museum

The area around the Vasa Museum houses a number of other museums. One has its focus on ship wrecks, another on Vikings, a third the Swedish drinking culture, and, of course the ABBA museum. A pity we didn't have time to check out the last one. Next time.

Our ferry.

The Vasa is a warship from 1628 that was commissioned by King Gustav II Adolf. Its claim to fame, aside from being inside a museum and not on the water, is that it sank on it's maiden voyage. I'm not even sure we can use the term voyage. How far does one need to travel for the it to be a voyage? The Vasa sailed 100 metres and then descended to Davey Jones' locker.

Towards the bow.

After several attempts at salvage, it was finally refloated in the 1960s and now lives happily in the museum. The museum itself is a bit of a one trick pony but they milk it for all its worth. There are documentary style movies, static displays, an audio guide and explanations attached to the various artefacts. 

A Lego version of the Vasa.

The star of the show is the Vasa itself. It is an amazing piece of work, even if it didn't sail that well. Without going into great detail, the King approved a ship of gigantic proportions with two gun decks that physics decreed would capsize in the slightest swell because it was not broad or deep enough. I'm not a boat builder but it was pretty obvious. How the master boat builder earned his title is beyond me. It was well built. It was just never going to sail.

In the resulting inquest into the disaster, in which 30-50 people drowned, it was verified that the ship had been built to specifications approved by the King. Surprisingly, unlike the Palace fire, no one was found to be at fault...

Nicely decorated the aft of the ship.

Another four hours burnt in a museum. We love them and given the uncertainty around the weather it is a great way to spend the day. And there are so many more to explore next time.

Not on the agenda for our return to Stockholm is the amusement park Grüna Lund. I almost wet my pants looking at the roller coasters over the fence. And they weren't even operating.

Just why?

We decided pre-dinner drinks would be in order and retired to the Corner Bar. It is on a corner and is tiny. The drinks from behind the bar also service the sushi restaurant in the arcade. They had a couple of Australian wines on the menu, we opted for a French rosé and some people watching.

Tomorrow we travel from Stockholm to Gothenburg with Sj trains. What could possibly go wrong?

Until next time.