Guest Blog: Bike-packing Across Scandinavia at 64 (3-5 June 2024)

Stockholm, Sweden

3 June 2024 (Monday)

I woke myself up snoring three times before we left the ground at Frankfurt.  The other two men on my side of the Aisle 11 at the emergency exit didn’t notice. They were both sleeping as well. One was at least four inches taller than me. 

The man on the end was about my size and as soon as the seatbelt light dinged off, he was on his feet, digging into the overhead compartment to withdraw a black pullover. He sat down. Then got right back up and went to an empty seat three or four rows ahead. But no sooner had he got comfortable, than he returned to his original seat. 

I read a little more in Dark Matter, a novel I started on this trip. I started a History of Scandinavia, but about 20 pages was all I could take of such dryness. However, one thing I learned began to make sense as we flew over the archipelago scattered from the Baltic Sea up to Stockholm. The massive network of 30,000 islands, reefs, and skerries or rocky islands (I had to look it up) serve as earthen dalliances of narrow landmasses and clumps of stone rising out of the sea to gradually form southeastern Sweden. 

The European Union represents many contradictions for foreigners. On the one hand, I swept through an immigration check at Frankfurt, where a very kind young man chatted with me about riding my bike across Scandinavia for a few minutes. He seemed amazed that I could ride 60 kilometers (40 miles) or so per day on a normal bike. 

“In Germany, many people also ride that far in one day but on electric bikes,” he said.

On the other hand, there are no immigration checks when you leave the Stockholm airport (coming from an EU country). I rather enjoy that feature. 

Although, my overhead bag rode with me from Honduras to Houston, because I was in the last group, Group 5, to board at Houston (because I bought the second to last cheapest economy ticket), the United Airlines clerks used the old tactic to put us in our low class place. Ironically, I didn’t buy the cheapest economy ticket because I wanted to be able to take my bag with me.  

“I am in touch with the attendants on board,” a potbellied young man in a UA uniform told us, holding up his trusty walkie-talkie. “The overhead bins are full. You will have to check your bags.”

Of course, I knew this was hogwash, but I didn’t stress over it. And when I got on board, I saw all kinds of space in the overhead bins. But by then it was too late. My bag was in the underbelly of the plane. Nowadays, you don’t want to complain too much or you will find yourself on a no-fly list. 

So, as I stood there waiting for my bag at Carousel 5 in Stockholm, I wondered if my bag made it. It was getting close to 6:30 pm. Google maps told me I was 23 miles from my hotel. I tried to fight down the stress. I saw prices for buses to Stockholm city for about $20. But then I would have to take a train or a taxi to the hotel. Maybe another $20. I had no SIM card, so I only had internet while in the airport. 

Many people getting their bags and leaving, but several of us were still waiting. I wondered if we were all low-class Group 5 stragglers from different international flights. Interestingly, there is a yellow line marked about 30 inches away from and all around the carousel, behind which passengers are to stand. And more interestingly, customers honor the line. 

But then my bag rolled out. I had left about $150 in Honduran Lempiras in it, and I wondered if it would make it. But not to worry, everything was inside. 

I stopped at a counter where people were selling train tickets. I asked where I could find a money changer. They told me, but a man said, “Don’t change too much into Swedish Krona. People don’t use it.”

“Oh, should I get Euros?” I asked.

“No, we don’t really use them here.” Another contradiction. Indeed, all prices are in Swedish Krona.

“So what do I use?”

“We are a cash free country,” his female colleague said.

This naturally worried me a little. I have not had the best of luck with credit cards recently. The Arizona trip was a bit of a nightmare. But I plugged on.

First thing I needed to do was to get to the hotel, I figured. But I should have invested in a SIM card instead. I would suffer for that blunder later. 

At the information gate, after studying my hotel’s address and the various routes, the nice lady in her 50s told me, “There are three options.” Then she explained I needed to take one train to a certain station, walk a few blocks, take another train to another station, then walk a few more blocks. That was the most direct. In fact, there as also another, faster train option that was over double, and a bus option too. This train option would cost about $20 provided I left right now up the stairs to one of the two train stations.

“Can you write it down for me?” I had no idea what the stations were that she was talking about. The names were all in Swedish.

“Here,” she said, moving her screen around, “take photo. That is better than my handwriting.”

I took a photo. 

“Can I buy the ticket from you?”

“You are better off to buy it upstairs,” she said. “You only have six minutes. And if you miss that. The next train doesn’t leave for 30 minutes.”

“That’s OK. I can wait 30 minutes. But I am confused.”

Although I have visited or lived in more than 50 foreign countries for much of my adult life, I still struggle with so many aspects of international travel. I am better at technology than many, but I have huge gaps in my understanding. 

Two train systems (slow and fast). Unrecognizable names of train stations. No internet on my phone to track movement or stops or to call the hotel if I got lost. It was now approaching 7 pm. 

“Wait till about 10 minutes before you leave to buy your ticket” the clock is ticking. 

Well, there is a new wrench in my cognitive system. It makes perfect sense if you know where you are going and how to get there. If you are struggling to figure out which train to board and which stop to get off to and which direction to walk to get to the next stations and so on, that ticking clock merely adds to my anxiety. 

However, I left her. She clearly didn’t want to sell me a ticket. 

So, I walked on trying to find the slow train stairs, but I only saw the fast train stairs. After a few minutes of literally walking in circles, I just walked out to a taxi. There were about 50 of them stacked up and no customers. Probably because the taxi costs $75 to take people where they are going and the slow train only $20. 

The driver was Arab, I think, but didn’t speak very good English. And I couldn’t speak any Swedish, so we struggled. He didn’t know where the Biz Apartment Bromma was, and I had to look up the address on his phone. And I worried that my credit card wouldn’t work after all of this. And when we got to Bromma, he couldn’t find the hotel immediately. He asked me where it was. But with no internet to feed Google Maps, I was clueless. 

But we found it. He remained friendly. My card worked. And I got into my room without incident. 

Across the street is a big mall called Galleria. I walked over around 8 pm to get something to eat and an adapter for the European plugs. Just inside the mall is a telecommunications shop called, Tela2. The young man was closing, but still asked what I needed. I told him, but he said they can’t sell them to foreigners who don’t have Swedish ID cards. 

The mall was closing, so I walked back to the supermarket below the hotel. I bought some things for dinner and an adapter. Two knives for my trip. And some other items. 

The sun set just before 10 pm, and the rose at 3:39 am. 

I had slept only about three hours in the past 36 or so, I easily succumbed.

Stockholm, Sweden

4 June 2024 (Tuesday)

Stockholm is 60 degrees latitude, about the same as St. Petersburg Russia and Anchorage, Alaska (61 degrees). So, the nights are very short in early June, and get shorter as the summer presses on.

My alarm was set for 6:30 am, but I was up well before 4 am. 

I went down for coffee. I also bought another adapter I needed and a special cord to charge my iPad. The clerk was Sundaram, originally from Sri Lanka. He was a little cold at first, but soon warmed up. 

He gave me bag of breakfast, which included apple juice, a tiny apple, two pieces of bread, two slices of meat, a slice of cheese, some yogurt and tasteless granola—the type my daughter eats, so it is probably healthier than what I am used to—and some butter, jam, and cream cheese. It wasn’t bad. 

But by 5 am, I dozed off again. I felt guilty. Funny, huh? When I was in school and played hooky, I felt guilty when the Price is Right came on. Oh, I and I missed a lot of school my last semester. It is a long story but suffice it that I already had my credits, but was being rebellious for a variety of reasons.

Even today, if I take a day off through the week, I hate daytime TV, because I feel like I am playing hooky. On weekends, my 4:35 am alarm goes off, and I get up and start my research. And now, even on vacation, I feel like I need to be doing something constructive. And going back to sleep is a tiny bit sinful.

Understandably, I dreamt a recurring dream about needing to go back to high school to earn my diploma although I have college degrees. Guilt is a funny thing, isn’t it?

Back at the lobby, another man told me I would have to pay for coffee. Free coffee is only with breakfast. At 3 Euros a pop (about $3.3 for a tiny cup of good, strong coffee). I walked back down to the supermarket and bought 16 packets of dry coffee (that makes 16 cups) for about the same price of two cups. Back at the room, I made two cups. It wasn’t quite as good as the machine made downstairs, but it wasn’t bad.

I also finally activated Apple Pay, which allows me the luxury of contactless payments, which means that people don’t have to check my ID frequently when I buy something. Two trips to the grocery, for instance, required two ID checks.

At the Tele-2 store, a nicer young man than the first sent me to the small convenience shop inside the mall, where “you can bet on horse races,” he explained. There, a Lebanese man in his 50s sold me a SIM card ($4) and top up credit. I had to change dollars into Krona to pay for the phone credit in cash. 

“This company is strange,” he said. “You can buy the SIM card with a foreign credit card, but you usually have to pay cash to use it.” He registered my passport to get the SIM card and charged the phone. I texted Christian to make sure it was working. 

It was only 10:35 am, but I was hungry. I bought a POKE bowl at the food court. It was OK, but not great. Then I took the escalator upstairs to the sporting goods store. I bought three saddle bags that go behind the seat and over and above the bar between the seat and handle bars. I am trying something different this time, hoping that I cut a little weight and balance the bike in the process. All of my trips until now have had a very lopsided bike with my weight on the seat and then another 35 pounds or so in the back. I am hoping that these bags and my backpack are enough to carry everything I need. We’ll see. 

Back at the room, I read and napped and read again. Then I went downstairs. I had spent the better part of an hour on the internet last night and today, trying to figure out how to get from here to Stockholm Central Station. From there, I would catch a train to Odeshog to meet Christian. I had searched websites offering to sell me tickets and looked at maps, but I got even more confused. There is a train, light train, tram, and subway. Each of them have their own routes, naturally, like DC, NY, or any other big city. I rode the Marc Train to DC from Maryland each day, and then navigated the city by the metro. At first it was a little daunting, but at least I could read the signs. In Stockholm on Day Two, I had given up. It was too complicated unless you had done it once. I decided instead that I would drag my roller bag 1.4 miles to the next station that will take me to Alvik. But I wanted make sure that it was safe to walk alone in the morning. 

The same young lady who checked me in last night was working. She told me it was much simpler to just take the tram outside. I told her it was too complicated. 

“No, it is very easy.” She pulled out a laminated sheet of paper with the steps mapped out. Seemed like just about everyone wanted to go there. She helped me download the Stockholm app that allowed me to navigate transportation options, and then book and pay for the one that was best for me. Suddenly, a huge burden was lifted. I had a cell phone, adapters to charge my electronics, bags I feared I would not find in Odeshog, Apple Pay feature to pay hassle free, and now the apps and knowhow of a Swedish teen to move about the city. 

It was time for a cheeseburger. I walked down to Rockin Burger at the Galleria mall and ordered a spicy cheeseburger and came back to the room to eat it. I washed up my dishes, organized a few things for tomorrow, feeling like I was beginning to enjoy myself.