I look up, long bay windows stretch the length of the first floor and intricate metal works frame each pane. I let my eyes drink in the soft burnt orange that swathes every corner and can't help but fix my stare on the steeple that towers over me. The Stockholm Cathedral is but one of the many architectural feats that I've witnessed so far in Stockholm. Frying schnitzel, homemade donuts, and freshly made stroopvaffel swirl together and float past me as I lower my eyes to the street I've been walking along for the past couple of hours. Broken cobblestone paths weave between rows of brightly painted buildings that lead to Stortoget, the city's hub for the multi-cultural market.
We head left down to the harbor, walking along the bay in non-hurried steps and listen to the slapping waves. A couple holding hands smiles as they walk past us and I let my ears follow them as a wave of Swedish rolls from their tongues. There's something about this city that embraces outsiders with its charming nature and friendly locals.
After an exhausting day of wandering the streets of Stockholm, Henrique and I start heading back to his flat. On the way we both become distracted by a shop across the road. Abandoning our in depth conversation, we give each other knowing looks and follow our noses to the root of our diversion. We take our seats on two patio chairs outside the shop and motion for the waiter. Ten minutes later we're greeted by two plates pilled high with creamy mashed potatoes and steaming Swedish meatballs slathered in cranberry sauce. Sometimes things just can't get any better.
We head left down to the harbor, walking along the bay in non-hurried steps and listen to the slapping waves. A couple holding hands smiles as they walk past us and I let my ears follow them as a wave of Swedish rolls from their tongues. There's something about this city that embraces outsiders with its charming nature and friendly locals.
After an exhausting day of wandering the streets of Stockholm, Henrique and I start heading back to his flat. On the way we both become distracted by a shop across the road. Abandoning our in depth conversation, we give each other knowing looks and follow our noses to the root of our diversion. We take our seats on two patio chairs outside the shop and motion for the waiter. Ten minutes later we're greeted by two plates pilled high with creamy mashed potatoes and steaming Swedish meatballs slathered in cranberry sauce. Sometimes things just can't get any better.
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