Syllogisms

Things that are far away feel faraway.
Stockholm is far away.
...does not at all feel so.

An animal and a familiarity mix in a cloud.
A dog and Stockholm mix.
We may, after all, be in a cloud.


After a very long 26 hours of travel, we arrived in Stockholm yesterday (Monday) morning. While our adventures in a partially deserted SFO, a 757 that looked a hundred years old, and a lucky exit row seat next to a seeerrrious Zionist could warrant an entire post, we'll spare those memories for moments of "oh yeah, that happened." Arlanda airport looks like a treehouse built in an Ikea. Everything fits together really nicely and every surface seems to be age-and-scratch resistant (this has become apparent throughout the city as well). On our little bus ride into town we were instantly struck by the stretching flora that is Sweden. In turn, I instantly thought of elves and tricky forestfolk waiting to do tricks on us in the trees. And built into a high gray cliff we spied (in our delirium) a large, flat, silver door. Tricks indeed.

We were greeted by our host Agnes who quickly took us around the area and dropped us at the apartment before zooming away. The place is in northern Stockholm, in an old building (though nothing feels old here at all) that reminds me of the building in Little Otik. The apartment is super neat, it features small cacti, a selection of DVDs, a liquor cabinet, many white things and a view of a leafy courtyard.


Yesterday we spent about six hours wandering. We scaled Stockholm diagonally, crossing its most variant corners, though we have hardly found a spot yet that feels uncomfortable, dangerous or unlivable. There has been a consistent mild wind that often swoops up hundreds of tiny gold leaves and snows or whirlwinds them through the air. People here look like they're smiling even when they aren't (no wonder l'image de bonheur of Sans Soleil is based not far from here). Seriously, though, we've been greeted with openness and friendly lovelies almost everywhere we turn. People seem excited about having visitors from California - and in short, we don't get the impression that a huge load of tourists come through here.


Stockholm is a city that covers several islands and is connected by a series of bridges and ferries. Some of these islands are heartbreakingly perfectly preserved nature parks with a spattering of old houses that look intensely Bergmanesque. Today, we spared our feet the distance and rented some hefty Dutch bicycles, which go fast over curbs and gravel alike. While we'd slept the morning away, the day was hardly lost; we bended around the Djurgarden (one of the island parklets) surrounded by freesia bushes, canals, cattle, small wooden docks and families of swans.


Cycling holds true as my preferred way of getting around; our bikes allowed us to have dinner in the southern district of the city (a long walk) where our waiter pumped us for information about Burning Man. While we were hardly of help, he remained convinced that it was the ideal event for meditation. After eating we enjoyed a minimalist jazz performance in a funny little bar whose geometry made it acoustically and visually overly complicated.


Though it was eleven pm on our way back, the sky and water were both cobalt. Birds don't ever give up at night because light is always there. (The one outside our window is singly going at it right now; he almost sounds tropical.)

As for pups, there have been plenty; this is just the beginning...