According to The Guardian, ten percent of Europeans were conceived on an IKEA bed. As this was the most significant information I had on my next destination, I naturally expected that 1) I'd have no trouble finding a good bed to sleep on; and 2) this is the place for design, the overarching theme for this trip. As it turned out, neither bed nor design were easy to find.
At the Stockholm Hilton in Slussen, our bed was lumpy and sloping at the edges. Citing Sweden's reputation for having the best beds in the world, we asked for a better one. We were given the option to be moved, downgraded actually, to the back end of the building where they have kept their Swedish beds, away from the prying eyes of Hilton hotel inspectors who enforce a mandate to use only Hilton beds. So we traded down to the back end, to a bigger room, a balcony, a superb view, and a deliciously comfortable bed.
We walked all around Sergels Torg, the city's main square, in search of the ever elusive design places. Finally, at Kulturhuset, the Nationalmuseum Design was closed. Oh no, it wasn't closed after all, according to the gallery attendant who came running after us, all flustered, apologetic, and embarrassed. But in the end, there wasn't any design exhibit to see as the museum's collections await the renovation of the Nationalmuseum building scheduled for completion in 2017.
At the Moderna Museet the architecture and design exhibits were not available. Louise Bourgeois's monstrous insects don't appeal to us; there's a permanent installation at the Mori Square in Tokyo's Roppongi district that we always manage to avoid. We opted for the Constructing Worlds photography exhibit.
I knew I was tired when I smashed a glass plate in the photography gallery.
As usual, it's the casual art in public areas of museums and art galleries, as well as street art, that catch my attention.
Colorful spirals on the ceiling of the museum cafe.
Metal sculpture at an apartment complex going up in Norrmalm district, a.k.a. City, where most people work and shop.
At Ardberg Embassy, a bar in the Old Town, whisky is serious business and tme marches backward. The fish soup took a long time to prepare but it was well worth the wait.
A surprise find on our last day: an American Apparel store where I eagerly stocked up on cotton underwear which unexplainably had disappeared from AA outlets elsewhere.
We asked the sales girl where she would go for a meal, a substantial meal, not a herring or salmon sandwich. She steered us directly to Urban Deli.
The deli/bistro is across the street from a children's school at the far end of a pretty avenue where Saturday market stalls were packing up for the day. Several bars and restaurants on either side of the street were serving late lunches and early cocktails on the curb.
Our place was packed but it didn't take long for us to be seated. The receptionist checked the handwritten list on a giant paper roll mounted on the wall, crossed out a listing with a marking pen, and quickly led us to a table where she handed us menus with a bright smile. No fuss, no checking on a computer, no "One moment please while I check."
Seating is communal. It's a friendly neighborhood deli; we seemed the only foreigners. I had a delicious steaming hot fish pot.
I wanted to have a picture taken among the apple blossoms but Stuart wasn't willing to go all that way as it was so cold. The locals however considered it lying-on-the-grass weather.
Note the two figures on the grass behind me:
We scurried back to the hotel where the lounge has a clubby corner by the fire.
A note about the Swedish monarchs: the unimposing stance of these royals, as suggested by ceremonial seating so close to the ground, may go some way in explaining the absence of revolutionary ferment among the seemingly content general populace.
Labels: Stockholm design
