Stockholm - Day 3
Breakfast
The third day in Stockholm started just like its preceding days, but man… it did not end the same.
I had no expectations for the hotel breakfast, but wow… was I wrong. The breakfast plate was not only delicious, but it was also humongous. I expected a typical European-sized dish, but this was just as big as, if not bigger than, the comparable US dishes. The eggs were cooked perfectly, the chef loaded the plate with bacon, and the avocado was fresh. My favorite part of the breakfast was coffee. It was properly strong without a burnt or bitter aftertaste. It was dark roast but didn’t leave behind the bitter aftertaste. A fun fact – many confuse strong coffee with dark roast, but light roast coffee has more caffeine than its darker cousins.
Church
On the way to the Nobel Prize Museum, I heard music emanating from an unassuming building nearby. I followed the sound to find its exact source and was soon greeted by Jacob who welcomed me as if I were his long-lost brother. It was a church. I am agnostic myself, but it was good to see people engaging in transcendental pursuits with fellow believers.
I walked out with a renewed sense of purpose – not divine intervention per se, but it was conceived by the combination of both emotional elation and rational order. But then again, some may consider that serendipitous experience “divine”.
Cafe Schweizer
I found this little gem where they squeeze orange juice from fresh oranges.
The Nobel Prize Museum
The Nobel Prize in Physics (my favorite subject) was awarded to the team of three physicists for their experiments with entangled photons, establishing the violation of Bell inequality.
The Nobel Prize in Physiology was given to Dr. Pääbo for his discoveries concerning the genomes of extinct hominins and human evolution (my current obessesion).
The Nobel Prize Museum
I purchased these items at the museum gift shop.
Malala Yousafzai / Jennifer Doudna (whom I got to meet in person) / Neils Bohr (one of my favorite physicists)
Mother Teresa/Schrodinger/Einstein
I'll write about why I chose these post cards later
I ordered Marie Curie Spritz, which was the only drink named after a Nobel laureate.
Dr. Curie, I respect your dedication to science, but I don't like your favorite alcoholic concoction (I'm guessing that's why they named it after you?).
Nordiska Museet
I walked to the Nordic Museum, which was about two kilometers away from the Nobel Prize Museum. When I placed the shopping bag on the counter to retrieve my wallet, the cashier at the concession jokingly asked, “you brought me a gift?” I chuckled and handed her and two colleagues gold chocolate medallions from the Nobel Museum. “How did you know?” I replied incredulously. We all laughed together, and she gave me a student discount. It was a good trade. Even without the discount, I loved the brief interaction I had with them. The hearty laughter that filled the museum atrium was worth way more than the money I spent on the souvenirs.
I ran out of energy and had an open-face sandwich and a dense pastry called Kanenbulla at the cafeteria.
This was my favorite part – Sweden’s lovely traditions and history. These reminded me of my friends’ houses in Ohio. This made sense as the American Midwest was mostly settled by Scandinavian and Germanic immigrants.
While the Scandinavian descendants in the Midwestern states kept many of their ancestors’ traditions, I noticed one major (?) item had largely disappeared from their diet - Fish!
I’m sure it would’ve had been difficult to get fish in the landlocked states and freshwater fish does not taste as good as the ones from the seas.
It may have taken a few generations, but maybe that's why I don't remember seeing any kind of fish at my friends’ dinner table.
Some of my friends' attitude towards seafood reminds me of Aesop’s fable, The Fox and the Grapes.
The juxtaposition of both ends of the emotional spectrum made the artwork much more poignant and meaningful for me.
I spent many minutes staring at this little fellow’s face and tried to understand the embedded message. It was a gut-wrenching experience in the most positive sense possible. I'll upload a more detailed description later.
Nightmare Concert
Before I came to Sweden, I purchased the tickets to watch this group. I thought they were the Swedish version of Pantatonix who sang Disney songs. Although it wasn’t the musical genre I was familiar with, the concert hall was near the hotel and the show time was ideal. When I arrived at the venue, I thought to myself, ‘this place ain't for Disney songs.’ The venue was a chapel of some sort and strangely enough, all patrons sat in what I would call spiral seats; however, there was no room for the performers in the center. There were disparate musical instruments scattered randomly on the floor and I just couldn’t guess how it was going to all work out.
Nightmare Concert
Five minutes in, about ten people dressed in black clothes started circling around the attendees and they began chanting incomprehensible phrases. I was sitting there befuddled, ‘what kind of a Scandinavian cult have I gotten my ass into?’ I literally thought about walking out of the place, but said, ‘I’ve seen worse.’
You see, I am no stranger to cult-like religious ceremonies and services. I’ve seen/been to services where congregants would make Pentecostals look like weary elders under hospice care. I’ve seen people screaming with pure ecstasy, dancing that resembled seizures, wailing like the final rapture was waiting for them at the church entrance. Damn, I’ve even seen my reserved high school math teacher running around the school auditorium with a giant American flag on a 10-foot pole screaming at the top of his lung during the Easter service. So, if someone asks if I have seen raw human emotion during religious ceremonies, you can bet your buns on me. But I was not ready for what was about to happen in front of my eyes.
Nightmare Concert
As one of the singers began singing a hymn with such passion, this lady next/behind me took her shoes off. Shocked, I thought to myself, ‘what is going on? Is this some kind of Swedish tradition I don’t know about? Do Swedes take their shoes off at concerts? Should I do the same?’
Don’t believe me?
After taking this photo, I had to put the phone away until the concert ended.
Nightmare Concert
Thankfully, her feet didn’t stink up the room (maybe a little), but man, she put me in a very awkward situation where I tried not to laugh at the apparent contrast between the solemn music and her carefree attitude. I maintained my composure, at least I think I did. But she threw me a curve ball as the music reached its crescendo.
I defecate you not – she took her wool socks off. At this point, I lost it. I was in agony trying not to laugh out loud as she wiggled her toes. I swear she was trying to make laugh. Some patrons smiled back totally oblivious to the predicament I was in. I began pinching myself, but it did not help. I rubbed my thighs as if I had leg cramps, but it only exacerbated the situation. I tried to suppress my laughter by thinking about sad things, but that's precisely when she began gently tapping the back of my chair with her feet.
Dear Sweet Jesus, Make Her Stop.
She wasn’t being mean or anything; she was just melodically tapping her feet against the chair. I closed and gently rubbed my eyes, but all I could imagine was a church choir with backup dancers dressed in toe costumes (like the sharks at Katie Perry’s Superbowl halftime show).
NONE of my mental tricks worked. Thirty minutes to go. I had to devise a way to deter the cruel comedy god and I had to do it fast. In desperation, I exerted all my strength on lifting my toes as far back as I possibly could. And I intently stared at my feet. I kid you not, I spent the next thirty minutes staring at my own feet.
People stood up at the end. But I refused to participate in their standing ovation.
Screw you guys, you have no idea what I just went through.
People were cheering for an encore, but thankfully, the musicians did not return. I think that was the very first and only time I did not want an encore at any performance. When the event ended, I left the place in a hurry without making eye contact with anyone. I not only had cramps in my legs, but also in my stomach and face. The cool air from the Baltic Sea felt so good. Ironically, once I found myself in an appropriate place to laugh, the comedy god was nowhere to be found.