Dear W:
Just a few lines to tell you I've arrived safe and sound in Stockholm. Staying for the first few nights in the Mälardrottningen ("The Queen of Lake Mälaren"), a hotel in the form of a luxury motoryacht built in 1924, given as a birthday present to the then 19-year old Barbara Hutton by her millionaire Dad. Later on, Miss Hutton inherited the Woolworth chain and became known as "the world's richest heiress," going through several husbands, Cary Grant being one of the most famous. The rooms (cabins, really) are small, of course, but I like the ambience. Very svensk Noel Coward.
Great location, very central. Anchored off the west shore of Riddarholmen, the small island just left of Gamla Stan. Gamla Stan ("The Old Town") is only slightly larger -- the oldest, most historical island right smack in the center of Stockholm.
The weather sucks -- grey, rainy and cold. My beloved golden Swedish light is nowhere to be found. What timing! Even worse, I quickly learn upon arriving that tomorrow, everything is closed for a national holiday -- Kristi Himmelfärds Dag. The young lady at the hotel reception translated this, with a delightful giggle, as "you know -- the Day of Christ's Sky Trip." Ascension Day, in fact. So I guess I'll wander around Södermalm, the much larger island directly south. It's the artsy, bohemian section of town which everyone says is a must. Everyone, that is, except Heidi, the highly opinionated, retro-style young German woman in charge of the Hotel bar. She insists Södermalm is nothing special. We'll see.
Love, Stan
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