The tour is finally over. One more day on my own in Sweden, and then I will fly back to where I belong.

This last tour day in Stockholm was stunning. Brilliant sun. Cool. Clean air coming off the Baltic that was as sweet as the Scandinavian water I’ve been drinking from the taps the last two weeks.

The ship docked at 10 a.m., and we disembarked and were reunited with our bus one last time.

A local guide, Marco, met us and began a monologue as we drove through the city.

Most of his emphasis was on the country’s social and economic successes.

“We have not started a war in 200 hundred years. We embrace our neutrality.”

Conversely, he reported that Sweden and Denmark engaged in 11 wars over 500 years prior to that. Think Hamlet.

Nor did he mention that geography aided immensely in the goal of neutrality. It has not been difficult for the country to remain neutral when other nearby countries have had to fight for their own existence numerous times. Sweden was buffered by them and the seas.

The Germans and the Soviets just never got this far.

Yet.

Sweden recently joined NATO. It was a big step for them. A sacrifice of “neutrality” in the face of an insane dictator to the east.

Finland joined too. Finland HAS been invaded by Germans and Soviets. A lot. Their borders have been involuntarily altered numerous times in the last 120 years. (Actually “forever.”)

All of Scandinavia’s borders have been changed many times. Denmark was huge at one time. In the 19th century, the treaties after the Napoleonic Wars shrunk them to the tiny country they are now. Sweden once owned Norway (as recently as 100 years ago.) They also owned Finland a few times.

Here’s northern Europe around 1730. You try to figure it out.

In 2024, the borders seem to reflect linguistic and cultural borders much better. Sweden speaks Swedish. Norway Norwegian. Finland Finnish. Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia their respective languages. And so on.

The guide continued, “Everything is free here. Education. Childcare. Healthcare…”

“The marginal tax rate is 57%. The author of Pippi Longstocking—Astrid Lindgren—had to pay 104% in the 1970s. That meant she had to take money out of savings to pay her taxes for a period. “

All for the greater good. The few paying for the many.

“We have the second most ‘Unicorn Companies’ after Silicon Valley.” (Unicorns are billion dollar enterprises.) Think Spotify, Minecraft… Were they attracted by the taxes? Large companies don’t like high tax rates. Maybe there’s more to that equation. Maybe it is the employees who pay so much tax on their very high-paying high-tech jobs.

The money has to come from somewhere. Somebody.

“We are a kingdom. This is their palace.”

I like kings and queens and royalty. They are quaint. Good for tourism. Legacy families that provide a link to the past. But royalty hardly fits in with socioeconomic equity, does it?

Nor did he mention their recent experiments with immigration and the No Go Zones in the country. Perhaps they thought welcoming populations and giving them myriad benefits would win their hearts and minds. They were graciously opening their homogenous population with open arms. How could anyone be ungrateful? Naturally, they would assimilate.

Our first stop was the city hall. (Do I use the word stunning too often?)

It was built with funds from Alfred Nobel known for his Peace Prize, but also known as The Merchant of Death in his heyday. He invented many things that kill people beyond simple dynamite.

Part of the building is a vast hall whose walls are covered in mosaics.

Stunning.

In this building, the award ceremonies take place, as do the banquets. (Organizations and the public can rent the hall. You can even have an event using the same menu a previous Nobel winner had—say William Faulkner’s Literature Prize Banquet.)

“Saturday is wedding day. You can have it in the city hall with the mayor presiding. You can choose the long or short ceremony. The long one takes 2 minutes.”

The exit led through the gift shop, and a showcase displayed glassware used in the banquets. I couldn’t resist and acquired a Nobel Prize Martini glass made by the Swedish glassmaker Orrefors.

I accepted it with grace, gratefulness and humbleness.

Historically, they like the United States. It the late 19th century, a huge part of the population left famine for America. Think “Min EE Sooo Ta.”

We moved on to the palace area. A troop of horses came clopping by on the cobblestones. About half the riders were female, I think. It wasn’t always easy to tell in the bulky traditional blue woolen uniforms. And all wore plain full black modern safety helmets which added to the anachronisms. Hair was tucked under the helmets, further confusing the issue.

Resources help Sweden as well. The country is 70% forested. It boasts 96,000 freshwater lakes. (Hot water is used to heat much of the city via 300 miles of underground pipes.)

15-20,000 years ago, the area was under up to 3 kilometers of glacial ice. The glaciers’ retreat scoured the land to bare rock in many places and dug all those lakes. The guide told us the land sunk under all that weight and that even today it is still slowly rising, creating problems with existing buildings.

Every family owns an Ikea Billy Bookcase…

The Wallenberg family controls 40% of the stock market…

The city dictates ALL building plans very strictly…

The city controls all the property which it doesn’t actually own… and it owns a lot.

“If you want to get anything done, it would be good to know someone in the city government or a Wallenberg.”

The people are beautiful or handsome. Our guide was good looking with light red hair.

He reviewed history as we walked.

“The Vikings were loosely knit tribes. If you died in battle, you went to Valhalla…”

One of the kings expelled the Catholics in favor Lutheranism. But it was really as much a money thing as all the Catholic treasures and property could be seized. The treasury was at its greatest at that time.

“This little square is often used for protests. Greta Thunberg started here…”

‘How DARE you!’

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Then the group broke up.

Some went to see the Vasa. I’d seen it 9 years ago.

Some just took off and wouldn’t meet again until the hotel that evening.

Some of us were given a couple hours’ free time and told to rendezvous “under the obelisk.”

I headed across a bridge to the National Museum. It was housed in a palatial building with thousands of paintings and artifacts.

Huge sculptures of Thor and Odin dominated the sculpture court.

Acres of (mostly Scandinavian) canvas. Rooms of design and fashion.

There were banners on light poles, promoting the Museum of Swedish Drinking Culture.

Back along the waterfront with its vintage tour boats urging you to take a tour.

I made my way to the old town and found a cafe. It offered pastries and coffee. I had a blueberry bun (filled with what seemed like clotted cream) and a beer.

The pastries in all these countries were magnificent. I limited myself to one per day.

Part of the group reunited, and Marco returned with his troop. We were led into the narrow irregular cobbled streets of the medieval old town.

Churches. A dungeon—where we went down into one that is now a cafe. Far underground, we were treated to coffee and an apple tart afloat in a saucer of cream. The low-arched ceilings of stone and brick loomed over us. I wished I hadn’t just had a large pastry elsewhere.

We walked and walked past secondhand shops and bistros, through squares… until it was finally time to go to the hotel.

For all my cynicism above, Stockholm is exceedingly beautiful. I saw no homeless people. No panhandlers. Practically no graffiti.

However they do it, it is one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

If they have advantages over other countries who would aspire to this—well, it is what it is.

Winter must be a different story. How you behave in December and January when you often have only 1 hour of sunlight a day is something else to deal with.

Perhaps that is a reason so many northern countries have high suicide rates. And alcoholism.

Sweden is at 14 according to another source I found.

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Helsinki to Stockholm. An overnight cruise.

It is a stunning morning. I’m alone on Deck 12 of the cruise ship/ferry taking to Stockholm.

The final stop.

I’m ready to get home. Some infection spreading through the group got to me yesterday and ruined my last day in Helsinki.

But let me set the scene.

We are cruising through sea channels between myriad islands and sometimes mainland Sweden.

The seas are calm. The big ship glides past miles and miles of coastline. Rocky shores and pine forests stretching inland seemingly infinitely.

It is 7:30 a.m. The warm sun on my back is grand. The phone says it is 58 degrees and that we are near someplace called Akersberga (there’s a tiny circle above the A.)

The ship is named Silja Symphony.

We docked at 4 a.m. at an island group named the Aland Islands (circle over the A.) We stopped at Mariehamn there. The islands are in between the two peninsulas of Finland and Sweden. The body of water is either the Bothnian Sea or the Bay of Bothnia. (The phone maps indicate both names.) I didn’t feel the ship dock—so smooth is the sailing. I sensed the very quiet engines change tempo. I thought in bed a bit and decided I’ll never see the like of this again. So, I dressed and went to the open deck on level 12. It still doesn’t get completely dark, I believe. At 4 it felt like dawn. By the time I got on deck, whatever transactions we were here for must have been over. Perhaps a couple of trucks got off. Maybe some passenger boarded or disembarked.

Then it was back to my cabin for a couple more hours’ rest.

My cabin… is about the size of the walk-in closet at home. It sleeps 4. Three berths were still folded up against the walls. My cot was actually pretty comfortable. Better than a few of the hotel beds I’ve had on this trip. The shower was tiny, but the water hot.

We dock in Stockholm at 10. Then a whirlwind tour of the city. Some signed up to see the Vasa. I visited it 9 years ago with my kids. The farewell dinner is this evening. Most people fly out tomorrow. I opted for an extra day so I’ll be able to explore the city a little more in depth.

When I visited in 2015, I thought Stockholm was the most beautiful city I’d ever seen.

When we approach this time—from the sea—I wonder if my opinion will be the same.

The channels are so narrow. Often we are within fifty yards of rocky shores. I wonder how this trip would be in rougher seas. Unpleasant, I would think. Perhaps terrifying.

We’ve passed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of islands. Some bare stone outcroppings. Others large enough for a dwelling or two. Summer cottages, I would guess. I dream of old Ingmar Bergman movies and the Janus film collection depicting life back then and into the 19th century. I imagine these summer places handed down from generation to generation.

The traditions of opening the house in the spring and battening down in the winter. The brief summer flowering of youth and love. Gone too quickly.

There are more cottages on the shore as we get closer to the city.

A couple of small towns are on the shore up ahead…

I’ll go below and pack my knapsack. I’ll put on my Half Moon Bay hoodie to keep the chill off.

We left our bags onboard the bus and were instructed to pack anything we’d need overnight into carry-ons.

The time changed overnight. It is an hour earlier. The analog clocks on board have two “hour” hands. One for Finland. One for Sweden.

It is 8:30. My knapsack is packed in my room.

The scenery continues to be one never-ending mural of gray stone and green forest and quaint cottages passing by. And the smooth sea channels.

Stockholm is only an hour away.

I don’t know how to do this week’s story. I planned to send one out earlier, but there was just too much going on. And I needed to sleep a lot.

Maybe I’ll skip the three Baltic States until next week.

I have a lot of notes and photos but not enough time to piece so many places together and do them justice.

There are some anecdotes I can toss in like grace notes.

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Recycling and waste removal.

Apparently, any cans or bottles can be redeemed for money. In every city since arriving in Copenhagen, I’ve seen people rooting through trash receptacles or searching gutters for them. Hotels have them in bags hanging on the housekeeping trolleys as added revenue? The last night in Tallinn, Estonia, a group of 6 mature men—in the garb of heavy drinkers—passed by me foraging for plastic, glass and metal. Each had plastic bags in hand bulging with their take. Maybe their redemption will fuel their addiction later tonight.

When I was a kid, all bottles had monetary value. Smaller ones were worth 2 cents. Quart bottles a nickel. Milky Way candy bars cost a nickel. Bazooka Bubblegum a penny. I’d pull my Red Flyer wagon along Main Street in Amherst, New York foraging for my candy fix. Then I’d pull my wagon to Boekel’s tiny shop and redeem them. Mr. Boekel would count out my money, and I’d turn it right back in to him. So primitive… (My mom used to send me to get her cigarettes at Boekel’s. She’d give me a quarter for a pack of Larks. A nickel was my “pay” for the labor.)

This “natural” entrepreneurial ethos must be far more effective than mandates. The trash gets picked up. Less stuff goes to the landfill. And those desperate for a little money have an “occupation.”

As we get closer to Stockholm, the rustic cabins give way to century old summer estates.

Many have steps hewn into stone cliffs to get to and from the shore.

We will pass the ABBA Museum on our way in. Imagine that!

The Disco Queens are all elderly now.

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Helsinki and the end of long bus rides.

This trip will be memorable for its geography among its 8 very different cultures.

• Copenhagen to Berlin—286 miles
• Berlin to Poznań—180 miles
• Poznań to Warsaw—190 miles
• Warsaw to Vilnius—311 miles 2 nights
• Vilnius to Riga—186 miles 2 nights
• Riga to Tallinn—193 miles 2 nights
• Tallinn to Helsinki—nautical miles
• Helsinki to Stockholm—nautical miles
• Stockholm to home—air miles

I’ll conclude this week’s story with the last night in Tallinn, Estonia and the 2-hour ferry ride across the Bay of Finland the next morning.

Tallinn is very much a fairytale city. Towers and city walls. Cobbled streets and sidewalks. Medieval gates. Ancient churches, merchant buildings and a huge Rathaus dominating the main square.

It was a delight in every way walking through it.

By Monday evening, the second and final in Estonia, I was beginning to feel queasy. But I made it to the old town a half-mile from the hotel. There’s an upper old town and a lower one. The main entrance is at the lower end. There are always a lot of people entering and exiting through there.

I’d passed the old ladies selling goods on park benches there several times. One had very thick woolen socks that would be comfy next winter in my house on the mountain. Going in to old town, I didn’t want to carry anything. Coming out to walk to the hotel later, the benches were empty but for kids making out or drinking or giggling at growing up.

This night, my last, the goal was something interesting for dinner. I passed restaurant after cafe after bistro after kiosk. Nothing clicked. I was heading through St. Catherine’s Passage a second or third time. It is a narrow sometimes-covered ancient alley. Among a group of buttresses helping some buildings keep from falling was a kind of amateur sign.

The Headless Chicken.

Delightful.

What was intriguing was that the entrance descended sharply down stone steps into an ancient cellar. It was too dark to make out much. I decided to try it for a beer at least.

I had to bend double to go down without cracking my head.

It is small. Two long trestle tables near the walls. A bar/counter tucked into a counter. I asked for a menu there. It took a couple of minutes for things to click in my brain. The dishes had Lord of the Rings names—albeit obscure ones.

That explained the decor. Broadswords hanging from one wall. Rustic shelves holding old books, battered pewter mug, candle sticks…

Fur rugs were on the benches.

My eyes focused on the large painting covering a third wall.

The Final Battle?

Back to the counter to order a beer. There were tip “tankards.”

A big one for Boromir. A tiny one for poor Faramir.

The music was all appropriate to the theme and occasionally a song from the soundtrack would come on.

I think the place was operating on the edge of potential copyright issues.

The menu was limited. On weekdays, it was beyond limited. There were two viable choices among the four side dishes that were available:

• Breaded Mumak Liver balls
• Blackroot Vale Cheese (also breaded and fried balls)

Other choices were wings or unavailable this evening.

The food was not at all memorable, but the experience was.

I bent double to climb out of the ancient cellar into the aging daylight.

The lower gate was near, and I headed that way. I could get back to my room and watch some Olympics.

The wizened woman was still there at the grubby public bench she had commandeered. Her face was burned and aged, with many wrinkles from decades of sun reflected on sea and snow. I chose a pair of socks from the dozen or so she had laid out for sale among some berries and “stuff.”

“Ten?”

She nodded and smiled.

Was I supposed to dicker?

I could never.

The quality was good. 27 Euros in the shop where I found some just as good.

She clasped her hands together and shook them to the heavens. She bowed and nodded. She smiled like the sun. Her teeth weren’t too bad.

You would have thought I’d supplied food for her grandchildren who had not eaten for days.

When cold weather comes, those socks will be a memorable acquisition.

After a bit of walking, I returned and bought a second pair.

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Tallinn to Helsinki

We boarded the ferry at ten. It would only be a two-hour passage across the Bay of Finland.

It was cloudy and gray. I tried to find how dark winter is since summer light is nearly 24 hours. I found this chart of average sunshine per day.

We headed due north. Seagulls congregated, hoping for handouts or that the ship’s propellers would churn up something interesting.

This sea road has been traveled for a thousand years. Likely more.

The Baltics were fascinating and even exotic in some ways. All three are mostly forest.

On the open sea. St. Petersburg far to the east. The ferry glides on the sea road between Tallinn and Helsinki. The passengers are a mixed of Scandinavians and tourists. So many blonds. So many blue eyes. This is the furthest north I have been. But as a child I dreamed of Spitzbergen and the Arctic Sea. And lands and seas where few have gone.

Too far a reach now, I’m afraid.

In dreams, perhaps.

I’m sitting in the Sea Pub. (Big surprise.) It is aft on the ferry. Further back is The Garden—a glazed box with potted plants. Above is the aft deck. I started there, on the rail, watching Tallinn fade into the distance. We will do a bus and walking tour when we land.

We just crossed into Finnish territorial waters. The phone alerted me I was being charged for entering yet another country.

There was time to kill on the ferry. Time to kill when we dock and produce passports and await the bus being unloaded. I decided to have an 11 a.m. cocktail. Gin and tonic.

Why not?

What is there to do but watch the sea pass by?

We have passed cruise ships and smallish sailboats. But mostly the sea is featureless. Distant shorelines on the horizon.

Far to the east, the bay ends at St. Petersburg. I guess I’ll never get there now.

Soon we were disembarking in Finland. A local guide came aboard.

Finland. 71 degrees just afternoon.

Helsinki 650,000 population. 5.5 million nationwide, but bigger than Italy (65 million.) 75% forest. 10% lakes and rivers.

Snow cover from November to April.

Mandatory to change tires in November. Driving tests include icy track.

Independence 1917 from Russia. (Lenin was too busy to contest it.)

Lots of miles of tunnels under Helsinki to get places in winter.

Helsinki was a small fishing village until the Russians developed because it was closer to St. Petersburg and therefore easier to rule. So most of development after 1912.

600 art nouveau buildings.

At the beginning of World War 2, Finland was part of the European land grab by the Russians in the east. The Germans were complicit and focused their imperialism to the west.

The Finns resisted well, and the Soviets were stalemated.

Then things got weird. Hitler and Stalin betrayed one another. Germans entered Finland ostensibly to help them fight the Soviets.

Things eventually went bad for Germany (and Finland.)

Helsinki bombed again by Russians toward the end of WW2.

The Finns were forced into a treaty that had them cede about 17% of the country to the Soviets.

We bused around the city before we were taken to the old market. Inside were forty or so booths selling prepared or takeaway foods. Seafood. Desserts. Bear. Elk. Reindeer…

Bizarre.

I did purchase some smoked reindeer tenderloin and cured bear sausage sticks. I wonder if they get confiscated. The seller said no. “Not as long as they are sealed.”

We went out to the Sibelius monument and then were dropped at the hotel.

I still wasn’t feeling great. A little dry cough was creeping in. My nose was a little runny.

But as soon as I dumped my bags in my room, I hurried down and summoned a Bolt (like Uber) which took me downtown.

I wanted to visit the Atheneum—the art gallery. Online it showed some famous works—Modigliani, Van Gogh…

The price was steep. 22 Euros.

“Unless you are retired or a pensioner.”

“I’m not retired.”

The countries around the Baltic make things free for students and the young. There are no concessions for older people.

I wandered through the place twice. It is very extensive. The only thing I found that wasn’t Finnish was a Van Gogh. Something made me think that a new director or board had mandated the change. I liked the Finnish art. Men working in field and first. Women domestic scenes… too much though. Too little variety.

Then I walked around the center city for a while, but nothing interested me. Not hungry enough to eat, I headed back to the hotel by way of a large lake, which was a hub of the city’s recreation.

I went to bed early. Feeling icky.

The next day we toured a little more of Helsinki, but there just wasn’t a lot of interest for me.

We met to go to the ferry and board about 3.

Casting off from Helsinki harbor was beautiful. The city and its landmarks receded as we went seaward.

When we were well underway, it became clear it would be about 18 hours before we landed in Stockholm.

Was I hungry? Not really. The ship offered 8 or 10 restaurants.

I eventually chose vegetarian sushi, as I thought that might agree with me the best.

I watched the landscapes pass by on the nearby shores.

Miles and miles of rocky shores and pine forests extended northward, seemingly forever.

I went to bed early and blessedly slept hard.

I awoke near 4 a.m. when the engines changed cadence to dock at Mariehamn in the Aland Islands. I felt well enough to go up and out to see the unknown land in the early, early twilight.