In March 2001, I flew from the UK to Arlanda Airport in Stockholm, Sweden, for what promised to be an exciting and somewhat chilly weekend in this beautiful Nordic city. After the flight landed, I walked out of the arrival gate and there, waiting for me with a warm smile and an excited wave, was Mandy. We hadn’t seen each other in a little while, so there was something particularly special about that moment. The air felt fresh and crisp, and I was immediately grateful for the warm layers I’d packed—Stockholm in March was even colder than I’d expected!
Mandy had planned for us to start our exploration right away. We hopped on the Arlanda Express, a sleek train that whisked us into the heart of Stockholm in no time. As we stepped out into the city, I felt a sharp chill in the air. The cold had a bite to it that was new to me, but the city’s charm more than made up for it. Stockholm’s old buildings, with their pastel-colored facades, stood out vividly against the grey sky. The streets had a quiet elegance, with hints of spring around the corner but winter still firmly in place.
We headed to the waterfront, where the icy wind was especially brisk. The harbor waters were partially frozen, something I’d only ever seen in pictures. The sight of thick chunks of ice floating on the water’s surface was mesmerizing, and we took a moment just to watch as the pieces drifted, clinking together like glass. Mandy laughed at my reaction to the cold, saying she’d already adapted. But with each gust of wind, I pulled my coat a little tighter and made a mental note to buy some thicker gloves before the weekend was over.
From the waterfront, we strolled into Gamla Stan, Stockholm's Old Town. The cobbled streets wound between ancient buildings, and we found ourselves exploring alleys lined with charming little shops and cozy cafés. Ducking into one of these cafés, we warmed up with cups of hot chocolate, thick and rich enough to make the cold feel a bit more manageable
Despite the weather, we were determined to make the most of our visit, and one of the stops on our list was the Natural History Museum.
As we entered, we immediately felt the warmth, which was a relief, and the space opened up with that unique, comforting museum aroma—a mix of polished wood, books, and the faint smell of exhibits. It was bustling with local families and curious visitors like us, all eager to explore.
The exhibits were nothing short of impressive. We were drawn to the Arctic section, which was particularly fitting given the weather outside. The display showcased the native animals, plants, and the way humans had adapted to survive in such extreme conditions.
The city was beautiful but incredibly cold—so cold, in fact, that the sea water in the harbor had actually frozen. We were in search of something a bit warmer and decided that a trip to the famous Vasa Museum would be just the thing.
As we stepped inside, the temperature difference was a welcome relief. The museum had an impressive, almost reverent atmosphere. Then we saw her—the Vasa, an awe-inspiring sight even from across the room. It was hard to believe this enormous, intricately carved ship had been under the sea for centuries before being raised. The Vasa is the only nearly fully intact 17th-century ship in existence, and seeing it up close felt like stepping into a time capsule from 1628.
The Vasa was magnificent and haunting, towering over us with her ornate carvings and formidable size. The details were incredible—every carving on the stern told stories of power, mythology, and the might of the Swedish Empire at the time. We learned about the ship's maiden voyage, which tragically lasted only a few minutes before she tipped and sank in Stockholm's harbor. It was hard to imagine the shock and heartbreak of the onlookers that day.
We came across a lovely park, blanketed in snow, and decided to take a stroll through it. The snow crunched under our boots as we walked along the paths, admiring the way it lay, undisturbed, across benches and tree branches. Mandy looked delighted, pulling her scarf up around her face and tucking her hands deep into her pockets as she took in the wintery beauty around us.
There was something peaceful about the scene. Every so often, a breeze would come through, sending a fine mist of snow drifting from the trees, sparkling as it caught the light. It felt as though we had the whole place to ourselves; there were no sounds other than the occasional call of a bird or the rustling of branches in the wind. I pulled my scarf tighter, but no amount of wool seemed to keep out that icy wind.
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