Even though I’ve visited Stockholm twice before, I haven’t visited all of the obvious tourist attractions. One notable omission has been home/gallery/museum of Prins Eugins Waldemasudde, located on Djurgården.
I don’t know why I haven’t been there before. Maybe I figured it was just going to a bit of a boring old house, and there was too much else to see in Stockholm in the middle of summer? If so, I was completely wrong.
The house itself is completely charming. Prins Eugins obviously had an eye for good design, as the house enjoys wonderful views and seems completely in touch with its environment. It’s very much an open, airy kind of space.
Outside also, there are lots of wonderful places to sit and enjoy the sunshine and completely relax, which I did for much of the day.
Prins Eugins was also, an artist and, thus, the house is full of many of his own works, as well as those of many other Swedish and European artists. His paintings are okay, I guess. Nothing really special in my opinion. It seems like he was a better collector than he was an artist, in my view.
However I did like his taste in books, which I thought, reflected an obviously worldly man with broad interests.
He died without heir – yeah, you guessed right – and so now his house is a gallery/museum space with a couple of current exhibitions. One features a lot of 19th century Italian works which held little interest for me.
Waldemarsudde
Waldemarsudde
Lars Wallin at Waldemarsudde
I was more interested in the exhibition of works by Swedish designer, Lars Wallin. Not being much of a fashionista myself, I’d never heard of Lars Wallin until I walked into the exhibition.
I discovered, quickly, however, I was VERY familiar with a lot of his work, as he has designed stage costumes for some very well known Swedish pop stars, including Nanne Grönvall and Peter Jöback. It was fascinating to see so many of the costumes up close.
And although dresses aren’t really “my thing” I was completely taken by the beauty of some of his work. There’s a series of red dresses, in particular, which I thought were just amazing.
Overall, a really great space, and a great way to spend a lovely sunny day in Stockholm.
In the last few weeks I’ve become a bit of a bore with friends telling them about the book I’ve read/listened to called “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning”. Despite the rather gloomy title (very Swedish!), it’s an inspiring work written from the perspective of a woman in her 80s/90s, preparing for her death, and not wanting her children to have the “burden” of her children having to “clean up” after her. As a single man in my fifties, without children, the message resonates with me also. If I were to be hit by a bus tomorrow, or die suddenly from a heart-attack, or find myself incapacitated from a stroke, I honestly don’t know who would look after “my things”. Even though I have a will, I haven’t had “those conversations”.
Sue and I were talking a bit about this last night over dinner at Thainesia, an awesome restaurant which I’ve been going to for as long as I’ve lived in Sydney. There’s been a steady flow of waiters through the year, and probably most of those working now were just kids when I started going there, the food has remained excellent. And the place is always full. We had dinner there, ahead of going to a movie nearby.
As we walked along Oxford Street later last night, we did our best to try to understand why we both walked out of “The Post” feeling dissatisfied. On paper, it looked good, with an awesome acting, directing and production team, telling the story of the Washington Post and Watergate. But in the end, it failed to tell us anything we didn’t already know, and failed to provide us with much of an emotional experience either. Ah well, you win some, you lose some. The next film I’m looking forward to is “I Tonya”.
This week I travelled to Canberra again. There were a couple of work-related activities to attend to. So, as usual I caught the Greyhound from Central to the Jolimont Centre. “Why do you catch the bus and not a plane?”, a colleague asked me. I told him simply, “It’s much cheaper, takes about the same amount of time by the time you travel to and from the airport st either end, and you can get some work done (and have a nap if you need to) along the way”, I told him.
One of the most awesome things I did in Canberra was attend Heywire. For twenty years (I remember the launch), the ABC has been supporting a story-telling event focused on young people in Regional Australia. Along the way, the event has transformed itself to other activities, including the opportunity for young people to pitch their ideas to politicians, and obtaining funding. At my table for the dinner, there were two young Indigenous people (Darwin and Broken Hill), and another finalist (Gin Gin, Queensland) who were truly inspiring. I felt humbled. There’s more information here: http://www.abc.net.au/heywire/
As a man from “the bush”, it was awesome to hear all of these stories, and in particular catch up with a young man from my “neck of the woods”
Also this week, I caught up with a friend Tiffany, who I first worked with twenty five years ago (probably longer) in Wagga Wagga. Though we’ve stayed in touch over the years, it’s over a decade since we last saw each other, when we were both living in Perth. It was awesome to see her, and to meet her new partner, a guy she actually went to school with many, many years ago, growing up in the Northern Territory.
With a school reunion coming up later this year, Sue and I pondered over dinner (last night) whether or not we might end up meeting and falling in love with someone we went to school with. Maybe yes, maybe no.
I have had a day pretending to be Swedish. I mean, I don’t look Swedish, and I don’t sound Swedish, and for the most part, I was probably a complete failure. But I had to pretend to be Swedish, just in case anyone thought I was American, Italian or German.
It all started at lunchtime with the most “touristy” thing I’ve done this trip: watch the changing of the guards at the Royal Palace. It’s all a bit of a cliché designed for the tourists, and of course, the current Swedish royal family is French anyway, but failing to do it would be like going to London and not seeing Buckingham Palace.
Frankly, the ceremony goes on far too long and not enough happens to justify the time involved. I got a bit bored, to be honest. But to my left, there was an American woman who clearly thought it was very very important to see. “Get out of my way”, she said, to the johnny-come-lately’s who stood in front of her just as all the action began. “I’ve been waiting forty-five minutes”, she told them.
I was fairly sympathetic towards her, actually. Imagine if you would a situation where the guards are trying to make it safe for the public while about thirty horses come through, and you have stupid tourists who don’t pay any attention to them. And who then stand in front of people who have been waiting for ages and doing the right thing.
I also felt sorry for the guards (a bunch of kids on military service) who must have felt like they were herding cats. I lost track of the number of times they told people to stay behind the lines for their personal safety.
Changing of the guard, Royal Palace in Stockholm
And then there was the stupid German man who kept whistling to attract the attention of his wife on the other side of the square, right next to the horses which were already fairly agitated.
In the midst of this group of Americans, Italians and Germans who thought their photographs or making contact with their family or friends were more important than public safety, I just kept quiet, smiled at the guards, and did my best to pretend to be Swedish. Or at least, anything except an American, an Italian or a German.
After that I headed into deep suburbia, Solna Central, to buy a t-shirt and some socks. I’ve already thrown out some things, including a shirt I never liked and a book about last year’s federal election which seemed like a good idea at the time, but I was in fairly desperate need of both a new t-shirt and some socks. So I decided to hit the train line and look for a suburban centre. As it turned out H and M at Solna was excellent value. I felt Swedish and suburban.
Coming back, I went along to Parkteatern on Djurgarden where the band, “A Beautiful Friend” were due to play at 6.30 pm. Even by the time I’d arrived at about 5.45, many people had already staked a claim on the grass, such is the way of Swedes with their summer concerts. Unlike Australians, though, who would happily sit on the grass, most of the Swedes I noticed had blankets or even pamphlets to sit on.
Musicians play in the park in Stockholm
I understood most of the patter in between songs. Mostly it was nothing more than “this is a song about a lost love from my album”. There was an occasion, however, when the singer told an anecdote about being mistaken for someone else by a drunk in a bar in Jonkopping. I understood all of the story, except for the punchline which got a huge laugh, but which was obviously a very definite Swedish reference.
The concert was okay enough, though to be honest, I got a little bored. There were lots of very earnest singer-songwriter songs if you know what I mean. None of the lyrics (all in English) was particularly profound, nor was the music especially memorable, in my opinion. Still, the crowd seemed to enjoy the show.
Patricia Nightclub in Stockholm
On the way home I popped into a legendary bar, Patricia, located on a boat in the city. Unfortunately, almost everyone on the boat was an American aged about fifty and gay. Like “really gay”, like “professional gay”, if you get my meaning. They’d been on a “gay cruise”. Can you imagine anything worse? As I listened in to a few of the conversations, they mostly revolved around where people came from (in America) and what they did, and “being gay”.
Magnus Carlsson playing at Patricia, Stockholm during Europride 2008.
I found a quiet spot, had a few drinks, and smiled and chatted with a couple of Swedes.
Best of all, though, I picked up a flyer which shows another of my favourite Swedish performers, Magnus Carlsson is performing there next week. The big music week just got bigger. So it’s now…
July 27 – Peter Joback and Eva Dahlgren at Skansen
July 28 – Magnus Carlsson at Patricia
July 29 – BWO at Allsang pa Skasen
July 30 – Arrival at Pride
July 31 – Schlager night at Pride
August 2 – Misc, including Alcazar at Pride
August 3 – Svenne & Lotta at Pride
August 5 – BAO at Allsang pa Skasen
Does life get any better?
In other news, I’ve cancelled this week’s accommodation in Uppsala, because I’m enjoying Stockholm so much.
Ahead of catching the bus into the city tonight, I called in for a bite to eat at the Crystal Palace Hotel on George Street. In the midst of chrome and floor boards that characterises so many pubs these days, Crystal Palace is one of those old fashioned city hotels with awful RSL style carpet, a pokie and smoking room out the back and one of those old fashioned bistros which serves calamari and chips and lasagne, for example.
While eating my calamari and chips, I sipped on a glass of house chardonnay ($3.50, can you get better than that?) and read a copy of a rather curious publication aimed at the UK backpacker market. Maybe over 100 pages, it’s a mixture of the kind of information you could easily find on the internet, including soap opera updates, along with local advertisements for backpacker nights where you can eat and drink a lot on a limited budget.
It also contains a lot of classified advertisements, with one in particular catching my eye. In essence, the advertisement is an invitation for cash-starved people to take off their clothes for a photographer in exchange for $400-$1000 in cash. Other similar advertisements told me “thousands of backpackers” had done the same for “non-explicit men’s magazines”.
Reading this leading me to wonder what happens with these photographs once the women have long forgotten they were taken. But could you forget? For a relatively small amount of money, could you ever forget the time you went to Australia as a young naive backpacker and took off your clothes, knowing in the back of your mind that in the age of the internet those photographs could end up anywhere.
We all make choices in life, and we’re all in control of our own destiny (to an extent), but when you’re cash strapped and willing to do just about anything, it just doesn’t seem right to me that $400-$1000 is somehow considered a fair exchange.
And it’s not just backpackers. All over the world, of course, there are thousands, millions of people – including children who don’t have a say in their exploitation – who compromise their dignity on a daily basis. It just doesn’t seem right…
Gosh I sound old fashioned and moral don’t I? And maybe a little naive, but that’s okay isn’t it?
Just a brief visit this time, as she has work commitments today and tomorrow.
It’s hard to believe we’ve known each other for over thirty years.
In fact, we were discussing tonight where we have chosen to live: she in Melbourne, me in Sydney.
“I’ve been here over fifteen years”, I told her, adding, “I’ve almost lived in Sydney longer than Lismore” (my home town).
For Sue, she’s been in Melbourne “longer than any other place I’ve lived”, she added.
It’s a strange state of affairs, in some ways.
We’re both from the country and the “country” makes up an important part of our identities and yet, we’ve both been living in the city (different cities) for many years, and we’ve both become “city folk” in lots of ways.
Sue is in Sydney for work today and tomorrow, and is staying with me tonight. I’m going to Melbourne in a few weeks time for work and will stay with her also. At last we have this great symmetry in our working lives that involves regular visits to the others’ city.
Tonight we had a bite to eat at nearby Il Bareto, a great little Italian place. Sue had the home made gnocchi, I had the pressed veal. Great food.
And then we came home ate chocolate, chatted, and eventually watched “60 minute makeover”. Although I’d heard about it, I’ve never seen it before.
As the name implies, it’s a house renovation program done in the space of sixty minutes.
Tonight’s program was a renovation for a couple of gay guys who loved karaoke and show tunes. Groan.
As Yani from Yaniism noted on Twitter it was the “best. worst. episode. ever”.
The closest I’ve ever come to visiting China was spending a few days in Hong Kong, back in 2008, documented here and here. It was at the end of my big trip to Europe, and I thought a few days at the end might be a good way to end the trip and to “acclimatise” before heading back to Australia. At the time I noted…
As with London, there are people EVERYWHERE. But unlike London, I haven’t felt crowded in today. I guess with a population of 7 million on a small (and previously limited) amount of space, they’ve learned how to get people around. The train system is great (and easy to use), and there are pedestrian walkways everywhere which mean you can cover large distances quickly (and often in air conditioning) without having to cross the roads.
But to be honest, I didn’t really like Hong Kong all that much. I suspect part of this was because I was a little tired and just wanted to get home. Part of it was also, possibly, that I had very little money left and was skimping and saving wherever I could. There again, my sister lived in Hong Kong for a while back in the late 1960s. In fact, two of her children were born there. And she didn’t like it much either. I think she found it all too busy. That said, I LOVED Kowloon. I thought it was interesting, amazing, totally fascinating. The rest of Hong Kong was, to me, like any other modern city: too many shopping centres and too much air-conditioning for my liking. And there was the constant stream of people trying to sell me things, as I also noted…
As I walked around I was also constantly approached by men. In fact, I’ve never been approached by so many men in such a short period of time. “No I don’t want a suit. And I don’t want a watch. And I don’t want to have sex with you”. These are the phrases that have been going through my head over the last few hours since arriving earlier today in Hong Kong. Honestly, I’ve lost count of the number of men (all of them Indian looking) who have come up to me today offering all sorts of things. Don’t they know I’m an Australian at the end of a 10 week European holiday, barely able to afford breakfast, let alone buy a suit?
I’m hoping other parts of China aren’t like Hong Kong, because tonight I’ve booked a flight to Beijing in October, and I am so VERY excited.
Catherine Croll and her Great Adventure
First, my friend Kate lives there, and has been working there on and off over the last few years. As well as being great to see her, it will be wonderful to have someone to help and guide me, as she leads an interesting life as an arts worker there. Second, I’ve never really travelled extensively in Asia. Asia has always been a “stop over” for me on trips to Europe. And although I live and work in a part of Sydney with a very large Asian population, and know quite a few people with an Asian background, I’m quite excited at the prospect of going to a part of the world where I won’t immediately understand the culture. It will be quite a contrast to my trips to Sweden over the last few years, I guess.
Over the next few months I’ll attempt to learn a tourist version of Mandarin and will start to scope out some side trips (outside Beijing) to undertake while I’m there.
As someone who usually has no trouble nodding off on planes, I was out before takeoff and only woke up about 30 minutes into the flight. The seating was comfortable enough, helped by the fact that there were only two of us in a row of three. One noticeable shift from the usual domestic run was the all-Thai crew; while the cabin was full of “anglo” Australians. There was no sense of expacts making their way back to Thailand.
Food & Drink
Unlike many international carriers heading into Asia where you choose between a couple of “meat and rice” options, this was a pay-as-you-go service, very similar to an Australian domestic flight.
The Menu: It featured the standard domestic choices with a few international extras.
My Choice: I opted for sandwiches and a glass of wine. The sandwiches were a bit chilled, but they were tasty and the portion size was decent.
Snacks: I also tucked into a protein bar later in the flight to tide me over.
Accessibility & Arrival
The absolute highlight of the journey was the seamless wheelchair assistance at both ends.
Melbourne: A fantastic crew met me at check-in and escorted me all the way to the aircraft door.
Bangkok: I was met at the plane and whisked through the airport. Being in the chair gave me priority access, meaning I cleared customs in about five minutes—bypassing some incredibly long queues.
Logistics: I still had to have my fingers and thumbs scanned, and I was glad I’d filled out my Thai arrival card a few days in advance.
According to friends I look a bit tired.
Final Verdict
The flight went quickly, passed mostly with a mix of movies and sleep. By the time we touched down at 7:30 pm, the transition from the tarmac to my driver—a friendly local who introduced himself as “Mate”—was effortless. For a budget-friendly international option, it certainly passed the test.
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That is really a nice place, even though I haven’t been inside for years. We took a walk on Djurgården last summer and passed the house, and took some pictures of the outside.
That is really a nice place, even though I haven’t been inside for years. We took a walk on Djurgården last summer and passed the house, and took some pictures of the outside.
I’m a big fan of Prince Eugin’s place too and like you, find it much more interesting than Drottningholm!