NORMAL LIFE: Bruce Does Scandinavia
Saturday 31st May
Bruce arrived on Saturday 31st, just in time to check into his hotel, come over to our place for some drinks and some dancing at DTM and Hercules, two of Helsinki's main nightclubs for gays. My initial thoughts were that he was lively, friendly and happy to be visiting this part of the world. The next eight days were going to be a test for the both of us since, having been chatting online since before the start of the millennium, this was the first time we had actually met.
Sunday 1st June
Our first full day was spent in Helsinki. Renting a bike for Bruce from his hotel, we drove first to the market square, from where we set sail on a two-hour tour of Helsinki by sea. The weather was great, around 20C, and would remain reliable for the whole of Bruce's stay in the north.
The boat trip included visits to the area where most of the foreign embassies were located, Kulosaari, then further onto Helsinki's newest residential area, Herttoniemi. We also sailed through some inlets which allowed you to get up-close and personal with the gardens of the locals as we cruised by.
When we returned to shore, we set off on a walk through nearby Katajanokka, a district with fantastic architecture. Nearby, we visited the Orthodox Cathedral, a flagship church belonging to the Orthodox Church which was founded in 1892 by Czar Nicholas II. It's interior was cluttered and surprisingly small. Tourists ambled around the walking area in silence while the religious prayed. Various shrines and artifacts were on display, making you wonder if this was indeed a church or a museum. I guess churches are the museums of the 21st Century since they have seen so much.
Before heading to Helsinki Cathedral, perhaps Helsinki's (if not the whole of Finland's) most notable landmark, we took a slight detour to the Guard at the Arsenal and the House of Knights at the eastern end of Aleksanterinkatu. Helsinki Cathedral is placed on a mount, with a tall green dome surrounded for four smaller domes. Built between 1830 and 1852 in honour of the Grand Duke, Czar Nicholas I, of Russia, the Church was know as St. Nicholas' Church prior to independence from Russia in 1917.
It's interior is minimalist in style, it's walls and dome in pure white paint, typically Lutheran. Apparently, 350,000 people visit the church each year and its position in Senate Square means that this place is virtually unmissable.
We returned to the market square via the cobbled street of Sofiankatu to collect our bikes. Before continuing with our tour of downtown Helsinki, however, we stopped for some fried vendace. Passing the masses of tourists which now buzzed along the market square and the main throughfare, the Esplanade, we got onto the cycle route which would take us all the way along the main street of Mannerheimintie. Our next stop: Helsinki's Olympic Stadium. We paid the measly €2 fee to ascend to the thirteenth floor by way of the delapidated lift.
Built in 1940 to accommodate the Olympics, the venue went unused until 1952 after the outbreak of World War II. Serving as home to the national football team, the venue was the first to host the World Athletic Championships back in 1983. The views from the observation deck (reaching 72metres) were stunning, taking in the Baltic Sea with most of downtown Helsinki's districts clearly visible.
From there, we travelled to the world-renowned Sibelius Monument, a replica of which resides at the UNESCO building in Paris. The monument consists of more than six hundred hollow steel pipes, which have been welded together into a wave-like pattern. The purpose was to capture the essence of the music of Jean Sibelius, Finland's national composer, who lived from 1865-1957. The monument weighs an astonishing 24 tons.
Just a few hundred metres from our home in Töölö, we took a break, downing coffee and chocolate. After an hour or so of chilling, I guided Bruce back to his hotel. Later on, he would take the tram back to our place for a meal that Bree was preparing.
The evening meal was a long and relaxed affair. Over three courses, we got to know Bruce better, he got to know us better. Already, on the first day, we had seen quite alot and, having moved to the sofa after dessert, we started to plan the rest of our trip. It was hitting on midnight when we decided to call it a night and I guess everyone slept well!
Monday 2nd June
Another day and another round of sightseeing. Bruce met me at our place and, together with our bikes, we cycled the five kilometres or so to Seurasaari, Helsinki's famous outdoor museum. On the way, we passed the Sibelius monument once again, followed by the President's home.
When we arrived at Seurasaari, we locked up our bikes and wandered over the long, wooden bridge. We walked around the islands' circumference, observing the shoreline, until we reached a flock of ducks and their young at the Southern end. The ducklings were not shy, rushing to and fro as if encouraging us to play tag.
We passed the entrance to the nudest beach and, shortly afterwards, reached the area of historically preserved wooden buildings constituting the open air museum. Old granaries, long boats and farmsteads had been moved here from various parts of Finland to educate visitors of the way things once were. You could almost imagine people walking past, dressed in period costume, kids playing old fashioned games which today's children would disregard as naff; the place has a real atmosphere about it. 
We drank our fruit tea and shared the sweets on the relaxing porch. Birds tweeted, greedy sparrows and blue tits flying onto the porch occasionally to snatch any loose crumbs from the floor. I tried to capture the birds on camera, but they just don't stay still for very long!
From there, we cycled along the west side of Helsinki's shore, passing Töölö, Ruoholahti and Hietalahti before arriving at Kaivopuisto, which features some of the most expensive properties in Helsinki. From there, we travelled to the district of Eira, where St Johannes Church towers over the upper market district. After a rest in the shade, we cycled to Bulevardi, one of the more classically designed streets in Helsinki's Punavuori district.
When we made our way back to the mainland, the wind on the exposed deck was chilly, but the sun's rays were too appealing to retreat inside where most of the travellers had sought refuge. We got back to the City and, allowing one hour for Bruce to get washed and changed, we met up again to have dinner: fajitas at Iguana. Bree came to join us after yet another long day at the office and, after a drink and a goodbye with Bruce, returned home leaving just the two of us chilling in the casual, easy-to-please restaurant. We called it a night around midnight, choosing to conserve our energy for the following evening when we would jet off to Riga, Lavtia
Tuesday 3rd June
Around 10am, I drove to Bruce's hotel, borrowing Bree's sports car. I picked up Bruce and we drove through the city, cruising along the Esplande, through Krununhaka and Merihaka, then over the bridge to Kulosaari. My plan was to show him Mustikamaa, where Bree and I often bathed in the summer time. The weather was fantastic, already in the mid-20s by lunchtime. On the way back, I drove through Helsinki's 'Islington', also known as Kallio which provides an interesting contrast to the cities make up.
Having pre-packed out swimming costumes, we paid a visit to Uimastadion, Helsinki's outdoor pool located next door to the Olympic stadium. It was great to swim and dry off in the sun, the first time I had done so this year. Bruce enjoyed it too, but we couldn't get too comfy: we had a train to catch at 2pm.
We boarded the high-speed Pendolino train which would take us to Tampere, spending most of the journey in the restaurant carriage, in the comfortable seats which offer unrestricted views of the countryside. We passed Hämenlinna, arriving at Tampere around 4pm. Alan collected us and took us to his place, having prepared an impressive three course meal: to start, we ate potato-filled Karelian pastries filled with egg butter and rye bread with roe and smetanna with dill. For mains, we had elk meat with mash followed by a dessert of Mämmi with a knob of ice cream. Alan had done me proud, he really had.
Alan kindly offered to take us to the airport so, upon our return from the Arboretum, we set off for Pirkalla. We checked in for the two-thirds full flight to Riga, blagging extra leg roomed emergency row seats for the short one hour fight. During the flight, we passed the city of Helsinki and, having scaled the Baltic Sea, we flew alongside the shoreline of the Riga Gulf with its thin, but inviting, stretches of beach.
We landed at 21:55, bang on time, and I was amused to have received a text message from a friend of mine in Australia, asking how things were going with my 'internet lover'. I replied, putting the record straight, telling him that things were going just fine! I mean, honestly!
After a very short wait for our luggage, we hopped onto a waiting Bus 22A. We were in Riga by 23:00 and, after a walk of 800m by way of the tree-less Esplanade, found our hotel in A.Kalniņa. What was interesting was the hotel's obscurity and it was also debatable whether it was a hotel at all. I would describe it as one floor of a classically designed building in a backstreet that had been renovated into three or four separate flats.
Having scaled to the seventh flooor of a nearby building in search of our hotel, we had finally located the hotel with the help of a doorman from XXL, a nearby nightclub. On the second floor, Alex, a bespectacled and blond Harry Potter lookalike, checked us in. At €75 per night excluding breakfast, it was a bit of a con, but hey, Latvia is part of the European Union now so it can charge what it likes.
Given how late it was, we decided to take a short walk around the local area, before checking out the sauna. After a bit of steam and some dry heat (you just can't been a Finnish sauna, I'm afraid!), I decided that enough was enough and was in bed by 1am. Bruce, however, didn't come back until 5am....
Wednesday 4th June
....so I was quite suprised, just before 9am, when he woke up in a relatively bright mood. Apparently, he had spent most of the night chatting with the barman in XXL, the bar downstairs.
Since our €75 per night rooms didn't stretch to providing breakfast, we headed to the Old Town that Latvia is so famous for (and which has also been granted UNESCO World Heritage site status) and feasted on porridge, bacon wraps, fresh orange juice and coffee. The food was lovely, the bill wasn't: the final cost of the breakfast was a whopping €28, providing our first insight into the fact that while Latvia may have been a part of Russia just fifteen years ago, it had in fact come a long way.
We ambled along the cobbled streets of the Old Town with it's unique selection of churches, many of which date back some seven hundred years. Just imagine: everything in this town was older than anything in Australia, except the Aboriginals, of course. The tourists had not yet arrived for the summer so it was easy to get around and take some great shots.
As we walked among the crowd, we were amazed at how many people were selling the same fruit and vegetables. In the hangars, we saw full carcasses laid out on display, including pigs heads. At the nearby Stockmann's (A Finnish chain, no less!), we lunched on familiar-looking sandwiches. After a brief wander through the men's department, we wandered back into town, paying a visit to the Latvian War Museum situated in the Pulvertornis Tower, dating back to the 14th Century.
The Museum's aim is to explain the complex military-political history of Latvia, which is more than excels at. With countless artifacts, videos and transcripts tranlated into English, I learnt how Latvia had to fight for Independence twice, both from German and Soviet occupations. At the museum, my perception of Latvia changed. Having been charged a whopping fee for the breakfast, I read some of Bruce's Lonely Planet Guide, trying to put it all into context.
In 1991, Latvia declared itself independent of the former Soviet Union. In 2004, Latvia joined the European Union, with the challenge of bringing laws, policies, economy and infrastructure in line with that of Europe. Latvia, along with Estonia and Lithuania, are the three poorest countres in the EU, with one third of the people living below the poverty line. €231/month is the average Latvian salary and, in a further sign of it's progress, the first Gay Pride was held in Riga in 2005. Imagine the changes since 1944 when Latvia was recaptured by Soviet troops and the Soviet regime re-established until now: each and every family must have some scary stories to tell from those times.
We ventured to the other side of the Daugava River, to take in the view of Riga's old town. Returning back to the north, we came to the Blackheads House, an artful construction dating back to 1687. The origins of the structure date back to the 14th Century, when a building was needed for the city's officials and tradesmen. The so-called Blackheads Society took control of the building in 1687, winning full ownership in 1713. The bulding reputedly once contained one of the world's largest collections of silver objects. Destroyed by the effects of World War II, the building was restored in 1999 to it's current form.
It turned out that it had been a fantastic choice. A Wednesday night, it was understandably not that busy. We dined on a starter of beetroot salad with bread and dried meats followed by mains of tasty proportions. The best bit was the free entertainment in the form of ten very attractive, leggy blondes who seemed to have taken over the establishment.
The girls sashayed their hips, their delight bringing a smile to your face. Even now, we don't know if the leading blonde was getting married, having a birthday or if the night's celebratory mood stemmed from some other occasions. As we started our dessert, Sergei, our waiter, presented us with two vodka's, courtesy of the group of partying girls! How nice of them! We toasted them, raising our glasses. All the way back to the hotel, our stomachs now full, we laughed about their happines, their joviality, their joire de vivre! Having rested a bit, we went to the sauna again, before going to XXL, the bar downstairs which, because of residency, we could get into for free. Which was just as well, really, because we were the only customers! With Tom of Finland images painted on the walls and weak light emmitting from the solitary disco ball, we drank Bacardi Black with lemons doused in fresh coffee and sugar, a surprisingly great combination. Our barman, 28-yeard old Dimitri, entertained us. Born some 2,000km east of Moscow, I never ventured to ask how he ended up in Latvia, let alone Riga, but given that he had lived here 18 years, his arrival in Riga seems to have been just before the breakup for the Soviet Union. It was hard to imagine what it must be like because he hasn't seen his parents in eight years! A guy came into the empty bar, visibly drunk. The three customers got talking and we learned that the guy was Lativa, but currently living in London. The guy's name was Rolins and, claiming he was bisexual and shortly due to be married, took a fancy to the dancing pole in one corner of the room. He urged us all to have a go at using the dancing pole and, after some initial reluctance, I did a brief stint. Rolins loved it, begging for more, the drink rendering him irrational. When Bruce paid a visit to the toilet, I asked Rolins what bought him this way on this very night. He said he didn't know what he wanted so I sang the line from the Spice Girl's Wannabe : #Tell me what you want, what you really really want!# He loved it, but he took a turn for the worst as the booze started to a have a knock-on effect of the worst kind; he slouched over, burping repeatedly, his vision blurring. He was in a sorry state and, at 5am, we left him outside, hunched over in the street. What a way to start married life, I thought. Thursday, 5th May We woke up after 10am, and the plan for today was a visit to Jurmala, Latvi's version of the French Riviera. Translating to 'seashore' during Soviet Times, the resort attracts 300,00 Russians each year. We headed to the nearby Railway Station, buying two tickets costing just 2.50 Latvian Latts. We also bought sandwiches to eat as breakfast. The 35-minute journey went smoothly, passing packed apartment blocks reminiscent of Communist Russia. Ironically, this place was called Zolitude. When we arrived at Majori, most of the passengers got off the train, bound for the beaches awaiting them just a short walk through the forest. The beaches were glorious. We walked for nearly two hours, alternating between soft, white sand and paddling in the shallows of the cold Riga Gulf. I have to say there was quite alot of eye candy on the beach, which rather surprised me. By 9pm, we had found our basic one-room accommodation with no in-room facilities, unpacked our cases for our three nights stay and went in search of food. We retraced our steps back to the Railway Station in Vasagatan, dining at a cheap hamburger joint, the unimaginatively named MAX. We laughed about our accommodation, which cost more than €130 a night - what a fucking liberty, I thought! After we finished eating our imaginatively concocted burgers and fries, we walked to Gamla Stan, Stockholm's appealling Old Town. We navigated the narrow lanes, downing a three-ball waffle cone filled with luxurious Ice Cream. Yummy! we walked to Stortorget, the square at the top of Gamla Stan, admiring the architecture before making our way down Slottsbacken, the road leading from the harbour to the Kings Palace. As we passed the palace, we noticed one male and one female guarding the entrance to the palace. We walked around the shoreline for quite some time, venturing as far as Ostermalm. By 10pm, we decided to head back to our apartment, opting to conserve our energy for the coming Friday and Saturday nights. In bed by 11:30pm. Friday, 6th June The day starts by traipsing back into the Old Town with the spectacle of Sweden’s Natioanl Day in full sway – blue and yellow balloons dot the harbour opposite the King’s Palace. On our approach to the Palace, we noticed an entourage of cars, one of which was a Mercedes which bore the image of a crown in place of what you would expect to be a car registration number. Bizzare! Within ten minutes, we saw King Carl XVI Gustaf (who looks a little bit like British actor, Jim Broadbent) and his wife, Queen Silvia, of German origin. Skansen is also home to Scandinavian animals. We saw bears, wolves, lynxes and wolverines. The most impressive feature of the day, however, was the arrival of two baby Elks. When we reached their pen, they were just two hours old, clambouring about awkwardly on their spindly legs! Awww! Temperatures were rising, it was now in the late 20s, but still pleasurable. It would take ages to get on any of these rides so we decided not to pay the extortionate ride fees, preferring, instead, to rest on the fifteen minute cruise back to Nyborkajen. We made our way back to our accommodation, napping, showering and shaving in preparation for the night ahead. But Bruce and I had promised ourselves a wild night out in Stockholm. Of the list of bars and nightclubs known us, we decided to go to Glub G in Ostermalm, south of Gamla Stan. We took the metro to Gamla Stan, then walked from there. At first, we weren’t sure if the place was actually a gay establishment so we walked around the block and came back only to find that the queue had grown and looked a little more gay. We took our chances and stood in line. Within fifteen minutes, we were inside the oversized venue, dancing to what Bruce described as ‘happy’ music, the type which made the Eurovision famous – great, loud poppy beats with lyrics that actually rhyme and don’t contain swear words or other expletives. The crowd slowly grew and we spent most of our time on the dancefloor. It was when Gina G’s Just A Little Bit spun from the DJ’s turntable that Bruce went into a state of shock! What bizarre music, I thought, these Swedes are sooo gay! Rihanna wowed us with Don’t Stop The Music, Carola sang her Eurovision hit, Invincible, while Charlotte Pirrelli sang her Eurovision hit from this year, Hero, which got a lot of attention. Saturday, 7th June It had been quite a late night. When the taxi had dropped us of at our accommodation about 5am in the morning, dawn had well and truly broken, reminding us we were in the north. We had a very lazy day, conserving our energy for the evening. Using our Stockholm Cards, we took a ninety-minute cruise around the nearby islands, which featured the classic cityscape of Gamla Stan. Some of the commentary was quite comical, the commentator imparting information which forced the question: Am I Bothered? to come to mind! We were especially surprised by our difference in opinion when Red had told her that her brother and his fiance had 'banned' children from their forthcoming wedding. I, personally, thought it was part of a child's conditioning to witness such occasions whereas Bruce was like 'wey-hey, no the adults can really party'! It was quite an amusing discussion. When Red and I parted, I headed back to the apartment and napped until Bruce returned. Together, we checked out our entertainment options for the evening: we decided to go to Torget, a bar, followed by Lino, both of which were in Gamla Stan. Torget turned out to be a classy bar, with it's own resident DJ playing dance tracks. I downed a Captain Morgan with coke, just to try something different. Later on, in the queue for Lino, we were transported into an establishment of over-tanned gay Swedes making an appearance on the club floor, the pop floor or the outdoor terrace area. Again, Charlotte Pirrelli sang her Eurovision hit from this year, Hero, which resulted in a nationalist stampede towards the floor. Admitting defeat, we waited outside, enjoying the warm evening air. The weather had been absolutely out of this world so far on this trip. As I drank a vodka, lime and soda, I noticed the glow along the horizon, looking towards Ostermalm. After an hour or so of hard dancing on the club floor, we called it a nice, managing to catch a metro back to near our place. Sunday, 8th June We had slept well that night, waking up pleasantly alert. My hayfever was still continuing to puff up my eyes, but after several weeks of irritation I had mastered the art of just dealing with it by simply putting up and shutting up. After downing a breakfast of sandwiches, cereal and yoghurt, Bruce suggested going for a swim within the grounds of Stockholm University. Just two stops away on the metro, the weather was perfect for what Bruce had in mind. A ten minute walk through forest, we reached the shoreline of a bay, just a stones throw from the buildings of Stochkholm University's campus. People dotted the rocks here and there and we found a bit of space to change into our trunks, before dipping into the cool water! After the refreshing dip, we trekked around the local area before heading back: we had 4pm flights to our next stop, Copenhagen. When we landed, we waited for our luggage and bought tickets to take the train to the Central Station. Following the instructions provided by the Rainbow Hotel to the letter, we quickly found our accommodation, passing the massive Tivoli theme park on the way. By 7pm, we had checked in and were feeling hungry. Klav, our host, recommended going to Oscar Bar Cafe, not far from the City Hall Square at the end of the main-street, Stroget. Just five minutes from our accommodation, I opted for a safe and easy hamburger and fries, conscious of the handsome guy who was watching we eat. We made our way back up Stroget, passing King's Square and the countless eateries and the now-closed boutiques. Back at our accommodation, we decided to head out to Jailhouse, a bar where you are served drinks by guys dressed in police uniforms, apparently. This turned out not to be true, but it was an interesting evening because on this very evening, Kylie Minogue was performing in Copenhagen. Is was unsurprising when, after 11pm, small groups of people started to arrive at what was a relatively empty venue. We got talking to Morten, a very masculine, bear type of guy, with a cropped beard, which reminded me that we were indeed in the land of the vikings. The Little Viking proceeded to correct Bruce on a number of statements he had made regarding Crown Princess Mary Elizabeth who, Australian herself, but born to Scottish parents, married Crown Prince Frederik of Denmark in 2004. I can't recall the exact thing that Morten had an issue with, but it broke the ice and he proved to be a very likeable bloke. While Bruce had popped to the toilet, Morten proceded to suggest that he and I 'go out for the day'. He said that he wanted to know me better, a glint in his eye revealing which part of me he wanted to get to know better. I told him I was partnered, but he was persistent. When Bruce returned, Morten extended the invitation to Bruce, suggesting that the three of us visit some sites in Denmark and go out for dinner on what would be the last night of our holiday. I gave him my number, not really caring if he called or not. As Bruce and Morten got chatting, I got talking to Dan, a very handsome guy who had just arrived on the scene, fresh from the highs one can only get from a Kylie concert. He had spent some time staring at me from across the room, trying to get my attention. He was very tall, tanned, toned and wearing black trousers and a black lycra-skin tight shirt which showed off his body to its best advantage. God, the guy was hot and he wanted to talk to me. We spoke briefly, but he had five friends with him, all of which were eyeing me up, as if mentally undressing me, analysing whether or not I was worth hitting on. Not that I was looking for anything, anyway, I was in it just for the attention, but they didn't know that. But the staring got boring and being a tease has never suited me so I said my goodbyes and Bruce, Morten, BA Baracus and I headed to a bar just down the road. This place had a dancefloor, which was located at the end of the very narrow bar. Morten bought a round of drinks, winking at me as he handed me my 'posh' Martini Bianco. Nature called and I went to the toilet. As I unzipped and did my stuff, Morten appeared alongside me, appealing to let him take me out on a date. I explained again that I was partnered and that I didn't appreciate getting propositioned while peeing. He would not relent and my knock back hadn't demotivated him whatsoever. It got boring, but then I found out that BA Baracus, a black, overweight rugby player from the US, had taken a shine to me too. I told Bruce I was leaving, bored with all the attention, and we left together. Monday, 9th June I woke up about 9am the next morning, feeling groggy from the late night and the accummulation of Martini Bianco. We got dressed, and headed to the breakfast area where, surprisingly, we came into contact with two much older gay guys from Australia. Bruce got talking to them while I drank lots of juice to quench my dehydration. The two guys were both in their late sixties, a little bit frail in voice, but otherwise full of gusto. They were so pleased to be in Europe and had seen so many wonderful things, they told. The Castle stores the Danish Crown Jewels and the Danish Crown Regalia. And just to top it off, the Coronation Carpet is stored here too! Whooo! How exciting... or not! Yet another day of good weather enticed us to spend the day outdoors so, making our way through the Royal Gardens, we completed the thirty minute or so walk to the Little Mermaid statue. On this particular day, however, the number of tourists was minimal so after a quick pose with the statue, we were on our way back towards the City. We passed the UFO-like, massive expanse of Copenhagen's Opera house before winding our way back to Amelianborg, just in time for the midday Changing of the Guard ceremony. Having admired the soldiers in their uniforms and with their dangerous-looking weapons, we proceed along the west-side of Nyhavn to admire the pastel coloured buildings; the area was full of tourists eating lunch, queueing up for ice creams, embarking on one of the canal tours yet the place had a sense of calm about it. We were in a city, but not in a city, all at the same time. Back on terra firm, we were dropped from a height of 60m on The Golden Tower. Whilst momentarily enjoying spectacular views of Copenhagen, the sudden jerk back to base causes air - I was not screaming! - to escape from your lungs. What a buzz! Just a five minute walk from our accommodation, we packed the souvenir photo we had purchased, freshened up and headed out to the bars. Our first point of call was Bar Masken which is where we settled for the evening. With only a handful of customers, I sipped a Bacardi & Coke, amused by the music that was being played. In my head, I played back all the places we had been, all the things we had done together. It felt like we had been away for ages yet it also felt like I had only just left Finland! Is this how a year in Australia would feel? I hoped so. We were in bed by 1am, an early start ahead for Bruce who would be bound for Australia. Tuesday, 10th June When I woke up, Bruce was dressed, packed and ready to leave. We hugged, promising to keep in touch, congratulating ourselves on making it this far. We had spent nine days together without killing eachother, a record for me anyhow! I don't even spend that long with Bree on holidays. After Bruce left, I dozed for a while, relieved. I wasn't relieved so much because Bruce had left. It was more because I didn't need to look after anyone. Bruce was independent by nature, but having organised the trip, I felt somewhat responsible. All that was left was to get myself home. And when I arrived back in Helsinki in the middle of the afternoon, yes, the weather was crap. Yes, the familiarity with the enviroment officially rendered that the holiday was well and truly over. But I was home, and that's all that mattered. I didn't envy Bruce's long trip - he wouldn't get home until the following day, no doubt in need of another holiday to recover from his trek around Scandinavia. While we focused mainly on the cities, however, Bruce had certainly 'done' Scandinavia in another sense of the word :-)
Having reached a less populated part of the beach, we sunbathed for a while, taking it in turns to take a dip in the sea while the other one guarded the valuables. The water, only 14C, was bitterly cold, but refreshing. We packed up, heading towards Leilupe railway station, where we hopped back on the train towards Riga.
In a series of text messages, Red and I had agreed to meet for a drink in Gamla Stan. We had a quick Coke and then went to check out the Changing of the Guard which proved to be a very slow affair on this National Day. Eventually, we got bored and, while Bruce checked out some museum of other, Red and I went for a sandwich to catch up the way friends do. Red was having problems with her brother, who just happens to live in Stockholm and I could only relate what with the estrangement between my sister and I. 
After our visit to Skansen, we checked out Grönä Lund, the theme park just across the road. One of the Tivoli theme parks, we made our way through the crowds: bumper cars bumped to our left, a rollercoaster shuttled by on our right while a ride that ejects you into the air towers way overhead. What an atmosphere! 
Our first stop was Red’s Brothers’ place, just two blocks east. We dined on pizza and drank our favourite tipple. Red was watching the football, before locating the Karoake channel for a giggle. I was somewhat stunned by the lyrics which, in today’s popular music chart, is all about black people swearing or making words unintelligible. It was so good to see Red. I had spent quite a lot of time with Bruce, but to see Red just chilling on a sofa a good way from home, I would happily have stayed in for the night!
When we returned to the shore, we wandered through the nearby esplanade, which was full of eateries on this summer festival day. We grabbed hot dogs and sweetened nuts, munching away as we walked towards Sveavagan, the busy main street replete with stores. Bruce wanted to check out H&M so we parted for a while: I called Red, and agreed to meet up with her for lunch. We spent two hours gossiping, updating her on how things were going with the 'internet lover'. 
We lugged our luggage down Vasagatan towards the Central Station, where we met Red, who waved us goodbye. Retrieving our Stockholm Alanda return tickets, we boarded the express train to the airport. Time was running out - by the time we arrived, it was less than an hour before our flight. We quickly checked in, cleared security and made our way to the shops to buy whatever nibbles we could with the last of our Swedish Krona. 
We boarded the one-hour SAS flight to Copenhagen, the Boeing 737 barely half full. Taking a whole row for myself, I reclined my seat, falling into a deep sleep. I woke up as the plane was descending, at yet another destination. When I saw the crescent of off-shore wind turbines, I knew we were close to landing for this was my third - and last - visit to Copenhagen.
We acquired ice creams from Kings Square before ambling oh-so-slowly back along Stroget to our accommodation. Bruce kept himself busy a few hours while I slumbered the afternoon away, napping in the softness of the comfortable bed. It was early evening when I rose from the bed and, with Bruce now back, we crossed the City Hall square and spent a few hours at Tivoli, a theme park in the centre of the city!
Theme parks have always amazed me. The technology and engineering involved is just breathtaking. Fortunately, on this Monday evening, there were no crowds. We immediately headed for The Demon, no doubt the most spectacular ride in the park.
Then there was The Star Flier, a kind of Carosel in the air. Sitting on double seats suspended from metal strips, the seat would slowly rise 80m into the air whilst gaining speed all the time as it rotated, causing the seats to swing outwards. Whilst not overly scary, the height and the feel of insecurity caused my stomach to churn a bit.
We took some time out to eat, opting for a buffet of barbecued food. The last night of our trip was rapidly passing and we got onto the subject of my arrival in Australia. From Bruce's description, there was so much to look forward to and I hung onto every word, convinced that I had indeed made the right decision in taking time out in Australia. As we slowly made our way from Tivoli, we marvelled at the now-lit spectacle of the Taj Mahal.
posted by About Me: @ 9:06 am
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