September 21, 2025, Nynashamn- It was quite windy atop the water tower that served this small city on its own, for several decades-until a larger one was built across town. The tower on which my friend, Mattias, and I stood was had burned down in 2018 and was rebuilt as an observation point, a year later. The taller and larger tower that replaced it may be seen from the top, as may a large area of the southern Stockholm Archipelago, of which Nynashamn (NEE-nahs-hahmn) is an anchor.
Here are some scenes from that vantage point.
View of Stockholm Archipelago, and south side of NynanshamnView of Grondalsviken, to the southwest of Nynashamn. View of Nynashamn Centrum (downtown)On top of Trehorningen Water Tower
Afterward, we went back to find the rest of the crew, Sarah and the kids, at Nynashamn Harbour. We had begun the day with a satisfying breakfast and had gone over to Choklad Huset (Chocolate House), which serves up the finest of hot chocolate and a full variety of solid treats. This establishment provides dessert items for the Nobel Prize Dinner, among other accomplishments. We enjoyed our delights at a playground near the harbour (The “ship playground”, say the kids.
Choklad Huset
It was soon time to go back to the cozy apartment. I spent a blissful afternoon, just soaking in all that being with a little family entails. After a well-crafted dinner of “Fresh Rolls” (spring rolls, in clear rice wraps, with “Chinese Rice” (fried rice), I took in one more Nynashamn sunset.
Sunset from Grondalsviken
Tomorrow, I double back to Stockholm’s Central Station, and take the train southward to Helsingborg and over the water, to Helsingor-the site of Elsinore Castle. It has been a truly lovely visit with my Swedish family. Now, to make more friends, in Denmark.
September 20, 2025, Nynashamn- The ferry here from Visby left bright and early. I was the first one to order breakfast on board, and chose Swedish meatballs, which were served along with a bed of beet salad on French bread. It was a cold plate, but that was okay. I am used to cold meats in warm or mild weather, and it was not cold at all on the way to the ship.
I arrived in Nynashamn at 10:30 and made my way quickly to the train, which brought me to my friends’ house. I received a hero’s welcome from the kids and warm greeting from their parents. It was easy to hang out there until mid-afternoon, watching a K-Pop video that actually had a nice life lesson for the kids-and for the rest of us: “Rather than try to hide our flaws, gear ourselves to recognize them and work to transcend them. Hiding them just opens the door for manipulation by others.”
I went back to briefly get checked into First Camp, for a short rest, then returned to my friends’ place for a delightful dinner of….Swedish meatballs. This time, though, they were hot, with flavourful gravy and boiled potatoes. I can never get too much ground meat-so this was a welcome turn of events.
*The day reminded me of a children’s story,”Cloudy, With a Chance of Meatballs”, by Judi Barrett. It, too, offers a message: “Change, even drastic change, is not the end of the world.” I have experienced both having to recognize and work on my flaws-and to embrace change and build a new way of life.” There is also a use for sameness and routine, especially for toddlers, so I bid my friends good night, after dinner, and made plans to see them tomorrow.
Today’s festivities will be shared in two parts, as some photos are on the iPhone gallery and the cable for my phone doesn’t quite connect to the Lenovo.
Sharing is caring, regardless, so let’s take a look at Gotland Museum. There are four floors, each with two or three galleries. Floor 0 is where we enter, pay admission, check out the bookstore and spend time with Gotland’s unique Picture Stones.
Many picture stones were originally painted with red, yellow or blue pigment. Most have lost the pigmentation, over the centuries.
The standing stones are all over Gotland and its northern offshore sibling, Faro (not to be confused with the resort city in Portugal’s Algarve). See gotlandpicturestones.se
Here are a few scenes of that gallery.
This came from the early Christian era, most likely commissioned by someone looking to protect his farm.The pinwheel also is a harbinger of good fortune.This tells the story of a horse and a deer.
This one has a sensor, which fills in the colours when someone approaches.
There are several others in the gallery, but here is a tableau of some smaller reproductions from around Gotland.
Up to Floor #1, we find The geology of Gotland. It, like the rest of Scandinavia, was once buried under ice. As the glaciers retreated, the Baltic Sea filled in, while islands like Oland, Aland, Bornholm and Gotland remained above water, being the tops of small hills.
Sandstone and limestone predominate the gently rising, but mostly flat landscape. There are some forests, but Gotland is still mostly farmland.
Floors 2 and 3 feature the history of Gotland and stories told by local children and youth, respectively. The historical part begins with a Norse creation story. Odin, representing the Sun, brings the world to life. He and other deities guide people in the ways of right living. All the while, the ravenous Wolf watches and waits. At the end time of Ragnarok, the Wolf will swallow Odin.
On that cheerful note, the story of Gotland proceeds, through its early days of increasingly successful farming, the Viking Era, Hanseatic League and incorporation into the Kingdom of Sweden.
It was during the Hanseatic period that the wall encircling Visby was built. At the East Gate, all peasants wanting to sell produce at Visby’s market had to pay a toll. Those trying to sell elsewhere were fined pr flogged. This was the stricture of the manorial system.
On the third floor, there are both paintings and recorded stories by Gotland residents.
The painting above shows the juxtaposition of hillside Visby with the sea.
The museum was founded in 1875, by Per Arvid Save( pronounced SAH- vay) and the Friends of Gotlanf, with the aim of preserving the island’s rich heritage and sharing it with the world. Dr. Save encouraged the farmers and fishers of Gotland to safeguard the picture stones they found about their homes and nearby lands.
Next, I will visit the ruined churches of Visby’s centrum, with the help of my laptop.
September 17, 2025, Nynashamn- “Where is ‘That Guy’ staying, Momma?”, the little one asked, referring to yours truly. He and I actually bonded fairly quickly, though he’s typically slow to warm up to new people-as so many first-borns are. I was fortunate to meet friend “Asassa Gal’s” husband and children, at the end of a day of looking about this small port city’s Centrum, or downtown.
She and I went first to Espresso House. A key to my Swedish experience was to enjoy kanelbulle, a cinnamon bun. Espresso’s rendition did not disappoint. Kanelbullar are served warm and are not overwhelmingly huge ‘meals in themselves’. It was just the right size for a mid-morning snack.
Next up was Nynashamn Kyrka, the Lutheran Church that is atop a small hill. It seems to be most often closed, judging from other Trip Advisor reviews, and so it was today. I got plenty of coverage of the exterior, though, both just outside and from the harbour.
Nynashamn KyrkeNynashamn Kyrke, from Harbourside
We walked around the harbour, along with a group of pre-schoolers, who were put for a morning of outdoor exercise. This is quite common in Sweden, (and is getting more so back in Home Base I.) The kids ran for part of the path. We opted for a slower pace.
Buoys marking shallow waters, Nynashamn Harbour
Sas was gracious throughout the day, as was her family in the evening.
In late afternoon, we five enjoyed early dinner at Pizzeria Arena. “Family” pizzas here are huge, as one might expect. My Stockholm Archipelago family will get several extra meals from this excursion-I wouldn’t have it otherwise. I look forward to hanging out with them this weekend, after a day or so in Gotland, with its walled city of Visby.
For now, here is a sunset view of Nynashamn’s west harbour.
September 16,2025, Nynashamn, Stockholm County- The monitor scratched his head, when I asked where I should tap my card to pay for the train ride from Stockholm to here. “There ought to have been a green gate”, he said quizzically, “but you are here and did not get stopped. It appears you have a free ride.”
This is unusual, but as it turned out, he was correct. No one who looked to be over 65 was charged for the train ride. I will take the bonus. There was likely some point in this journey where I overpaid for transport. Thus, there was a rebate from the Cosmos.
Stockholm, with its ornate buildings, well-curated parks and celebrated heritage, is for now a genial memory. The impossibly crowded hostel of Saturday night became more manageable, almost empty on Sunday night and mildly occupied on Monday. As I checked out of my room and organized my bags, a large group came in. The day manager’s scowl only deepened, but his dissatisfaction with the place and the situation, whatever the cause, can only be helped if he speaks up.
I made it from Radhus Station, about 300 meters from the hostel, to Nynashamn Train Station, in about an hour. There was one Metro Train, a 1/2 mile walk and clear instructions to the commuter train that brought me here. The language may be different, but it is not unintelligible. Besides, there are enough people just about everywhere who can speak English.
Nynashamn is a small city, with my hostel about 2.3 miles from the Train Station. I was let off at the top of a hill, near some apartment buildings. After waiting out the rain by standing under a tree, I asked an apartment maintenance worker where First Camp was. He led me to the trail that took me the rest of the way. I was able to connect with the manager, after ten minutes, and am now the sole guest of First Camp Hostel, for the next day or so.
A walk to Nynashamn’s center led to upholding a tradition-Taco Tuesday! Taco Bar is open and thriving-and while there is no discernible salsa, beans or rice, the tacos and enchiladas are faithful to my expectations. First Camp definitely meets those expectations as well. Time with friends will follow, tomorrow, rain or shine.
September 15, 2025, Stockholm- Beata and Cesar died in each other’s arms, as the “greatest ship” of their time capsized and sank, shortly into its maiden voyage. Cesar served in His Majesty’s Navy and Beata, his wife, was along for the stationment as flagship of the Reserve Fleet guarding the Stockholm Archipelago, in the midst of the Thirty Years War. The warship Vasa, with 64 guns and as many as 250 people aboard, did not make it out of Stockholm Harbour. 50 people went down with the ship that day-August 10, 1628.
A horrified public alerted the King’s Council, as Gustavus Adolphus was in Poland with his commanders, seeing to Sweden’s part in the conflict that had started as a civil war between rival princes of the Holy Roman Empire (essentially modern day Germany and Austria, with parts of northern Italy). France, Denmark, Poland and Russia had taken sides in the conflict. The Swedish king, styling himself a modern-day Augustus Caesar, was not to be left out.
Thus, in 1626, he commissioned the building of Vasa, named for his own royal house. Two years later, the great ship was deemed complete and seaworthy. The king had seen the completed ship with his own eyes, just prior to leaving with his army for Poland. He heartily approved of what he saw, and left the ship to its captain to steer towards the battle front.
The reality was, however, that the great ship was top-heavy, and in short order it became a testimony to the falsity of hubris. Gustavus Adolphus, and the Swedish nation, as great a military power as any of the era, were fighting on several fronts, feeling beleaguered by Catholic forces in Jutland, to the southwest, as well as by Poland and France. The king was therefore impatient to get the Vasa built and underway. Those immediately under him were cowed by the force of his personality, and kept their misgivings about the vessel’s seaworthiness to themselves. Further, an inquest after the ship’s sinking established no culpability in the matter. Vasa’s bronze guns were salvaged, but the ship itself was forgotten for centuries.
In the 1950s, King Gustav VI Adolf, namesake of the ship’s patron, commissioned a salvage operation, which was completed in 1961. Vasa’s hull was found mostly intact, owing to the brackish waters that impeded parasitic damage to the vessel. Its structure is now mounted in a dry dock, for all to see at the Vasa Museum.
Here are some scenes from my visit to Vasa Museum, this afternoon.
Entrance to Vasa Museum
Hull of VasaLion image and air portal on port side of VasaView of Vasa’ s rigging (above and below)Images of Roman soldiersReproductions of colourful images from the sides of VasaGun ports on stern of VasaStarboard side of VasaDepiction of King and his Admiral, being briefed by Shipyard Mistress and her Crew ChiefFull port side view of Vasa, from aboveLifeboat from Vasa
I left the Vasa Museum feeling somber at the massive sense of loss that the Swedish people must have felt in the wake of the capsizing and sinking. It was surely on a scale similar to America’s losses at Pearl Harbor, or the attacks of 9/11/2001. Now, however, the country has chosen to share its great ship with the world. It is a cautionary tale, about hubris and impatience.
The Viking Museum, which I visited after taking lunch in Vasa’ cafeteria, was much more presentational, less graphic. Three docents were on hand to detail different aspects of Viking life. It was pointed out that the term, “Viking” refers to an inhabitant of a vik, or seaport. To that extent, only a fairly small percentage of Norwegians, Danes and Swedes were Vikings. Most were small farmers or inland fishermen.
Docent explains Norse farm lifeModel of a Viking residenceGuide stone, of the sort found at the entrance to a Northern village
After an hour or so of listening to discourses, one of which was almost nonstop for thirty minutes, I took a walk in Djurgarden, the royal public park, east of the Museum Quadrant. This, too, is one of Stockholm’s crown jewels.
Entrance to DjurgardenRiverside in Djurgarden, Stockholm
I walked for about a half mile into the park, along the river, then doubled back to the tram and on back to Nomad Cave. Stockholm’s heritage is engraved in my memory.
September 13, 2025, Stockholm- The small prismatic light showed briefly, against the small cloud. I had not seen a sunbow in many years, but the fact that it was followed by a cloud image of an angel was most comforting and reassuring. Another such prismatic would follow, about twenty minutes later.
I bid farewell to Iceland, around 10:30, and headed for this old and storied colossus of the north. I had achieved a sampler of that crossroads island, finding Reykjavik as cosmopolitan as anywhere I’ve been. There were no Blue Lagoon, Northern Lights or puffin watching, but I did stand on the edge of North America-at least on the edge of its tectonic plate. I did catch a glimpse of Reykjavik’s history, and enjoyed fresh fish. I did get sprayed by the outer mists of a geyser. I did come to appreciate just how hard the people need to work at making life successful there.
Ananada Express got me to central Stockholm in short order. I then had to cast about to find an information booth-eventually meeting with success at the Metro Station, and was able to connect with the receptionist at Nomad Cave Hostel, a couple of times, getting the general location of the facility, taking the right train, getting off at the right stop and with help from a nearby restaurateur, the numerical address of the Hostel itself. The lettering is faded, so it took another phone call to verify the locus.
Once there, I entered the door code (All the lodgings I have booked in Sweden have door codes. They exist elsewhere as well. Iceland’s hostels have them, and there is such a system in San Diego.) Opening the door, and….I stood and readied myself: The stairs downward are immediate, and steep. This is good practice for any encounters I might have with medieval castles, over the next seven weeks. I made it downstairs, bags and all, with no trip-altering tumble. The receptionist processed me and went over the rules-and the two remaining door codes-for the sleeping dorm and for the baggage storage room. Shoes come off at the base of the stairs, so it’s a good thing that I brought my comfy slippers. (I customarily remove street shoes at Home Base I, and in anyone else’s home, so this is no inconvenience.)
The dorm room itself was a sight to behold! There were eleven other people,which I expected. There were eleven other sets of bags, scattered random personal clothing and other items. Every step needs to be made carefully. I placed my bags in the storage room and took out everything I would need for Sunday, putting those items in my in-dorm locker.
There are top and bottom bunks. I got a bottom bunk-“owing to your age”. That’s fair, though I can still climb up in a pinch. The young lady who had the top bunk, for some reason, latched onto me-even to the point that while I was lying in bed awake, she asked me, several times, to stop snoring! I listened for the sound of someone sawing wood and eventually convinced her that the offender was in the next bunk over. She would be leaving early Sunday morning, and so finally relaxed and went to sleep. I followed suit after that. (No, there were no breaches of manners or decorum!)
One last item of note: Meno Male, just down the street from Nomad, is a family-owned pizzeria-with reasonably-sized pies, made with the finest fresh ingredients. This is a true bit of Italy, in the heart of Scandinavia. The love shown by the gregarious owner for her adult daughter is classic Italian. Their warm greeting of “Ciao” and farewell of “Arrivaderci”, for each patron is doubly heartwarming. A cousin of mine and his wife are, as I write this, themselves in Italy, no doubt enjoying the real deal, on the ground. Meno Male would be a regular haunt for me, if I lived here.
Two days and a morning lie ahead for me in this metropolis. I look forward to yet another Old Town and to the great ship, Vaasa.
September 12. 2025, Keflavik, IS- It was rather fortuitous, that today should be the day that I was able to visit the European-American Continental Bridge. Here, near Iceland’s southwestern tip, two tectonic plates are separated by a now slight gap, called the Silfra Fissure, which is widening by a few centimeters each year. Eventually, there will be even more distance between the two continental shelves. https://perlan.is/articles/tectonic-plates-iceland
I engaged the services of a local gentleman, in bridging the gap between my hostel room in the Keflavik suburb of Kellir and Pingvellir National Park, where both the Bridge and active, free-flowing hot springs are located. Here are some scenes of the park:
PIngvellir National Park, IcelandThe geological limit of North America-for nowThis could be the surface of the Moon.An Indian gentleman ran here (from Bengulu).Pingvellir Canyon, with a wealth of volcanic soil.The summit of Pingvellir-EastThe summit of Pingvellir-westThe midpoint of the continental gap.Stay off, and avoid a hot foot!Tapping into the Earth’s might (above and below)Saving on coal
Thus was my last full day in Iceland, for now, proving to be the most auspicious. Mankind has once again seen the fruits of division. Let’s take a lesson from Mother Earth, and show that there can be unity, even as we move through tension.
September 11, 2025, Reykjavik- The transit policeman was not moved by the story that a ticket jumper told, of suffering cell phone glitches. After allowing him four free stops on the westbound bus, he gently but firmly sent the miscreant on his way. (On Icelandic buses, one pays by phone app or by debit card. The young scofflaw could not do so, because he had neither phone app nor card.)
I was headed to the Baha’i National Centre of Iceland, on the far eastern edge of the Capital Region. Somehow, the instructions had me heading south, a mistake that the transit officer helped me correct, with little trouble other than about an hour was spent on the bus that more accurate information in the first place would have been helpful. I got on the bus to which the officer referred me, finding that the new driver had minimal command of English. He did, however, understand the bus route to which I needed to connect, and let me off at the right place. From there, I took Bus #5, found a supermarket near my stop and got directions to the Centre.
The Baha’i National Centre of Iceland is on the second floor of a modest office building, but seeing it from across the road, it felt like I was approaching a palace. The soft-spoken office manager, Badi, was alone and had work left to do, before day’s end, but took forty minutes or so to share the community’s activities and plans, over tea and a Danish croissant. He went through the history of the Faith in Iceland (first established here in 1972) and outlined plans to one day build a House of Worship in a salubrious location that is now known as “the Temple Site”.
The temporary seat of our work in Reykjavik.Badi is a soft-spoken, but genial host.
After this visit, I walked to the spot which Badi had outlined for me on a map, and found the bus driver was headed to downtown Reykjavik. He had an empty bus, so I was a “guest of honour”. This chauffeurage took me steadily westward, past the entry to the Ring Road, which posted “Vik, 177km”. (Vik is a market town in southern Iceland, well to the east of Reykjavik.) He got me as far as the main bus terminal in downtown, and I bid him the best of evenings. From there, it was a six-minute walk to Hi Loft, a short breather and on to a fine dinner of fish soup (more like a thick chowder, but still delectable), at Reykjavik Fish Company.
Despite the rather terse mood in which I found myself, given the two horrible incidents of gun violence in the U.S. yesterday and the commemoration of the tragedy that took place 24 years ago today, the day ended up being well-spent. No intense exploration of scenic wonders, but spiritual sustenance became the order of the day.
September 10,2025, Reykjavik- One one side of Laugarnes Recreation Area, the last remaining natural preserve on the north side of Reykjavik’s bay, there is a large collection of items that would not look out of place in Corner Brook’s Rock Art Wall or any number of back yard “personal treasure” collections around the world, from Spain to Vancouver Island and from Nigeria to the Philippines-or so stories claim. It is the Recycled House.
A scant 100 yards away is the Museum of Soren West and Sigurjon Olafsson, featuring the works of two intrepid artists of the mid-Twentieth Century- workers in stone and metal (West); stone and wood (Olafsson). Olafsson worked for a time with the Danish Resistance to Nazi occupation. Homesick for his wife, he returned to his native south Iceland and was an invaluable source of information to the British and American forces who kept the island safe from the Axis Powers. West has been focused solely on the promulgation of sculpture, having grown up in Denmark, in a relatively more peaceful time. He has been an intensely influential figure in teaching the medium, especially on his home island of Fyn.
The two very different museums co-exist with one another and are careful not to overlap one another’s collections onto the other’s property. Here are a few scenes of each. I first went around the grounds of the Recycled House.
No one gets past him! Note that the lith, overlooking the Bay and this “watchman” are perfectly aligned, as to the western border of the property.These “backyard guardians” of the Olafsson Museum show the same sense of order.The demarcation line.It’s amazing what one can do with cast-off metal.Nothing gets tossed out here.
Here is the house itself:
There is even an “observation Chair”.Many are the watchmen!Hrafn Gunnlaugsson lives in this house. He was the director of “The Raven Flies” and other films about Viking life in his native Iceland.
Now let us turn to the pieces in the more conventional museum.
If this figure looks like he’s thinking, it’s because Sigurjon Olafsson probably WAS deep in thought, while crafting it.Here’s a piece by Soren West,showing a whale spouting, or at least that’s how I interpret it. Soren West just calls it “Skulptur”.Here are two wooden pieces, one mahogany and the other, fir. Both represent balance.
By now, I was getting exhausted. I had walked as far as the small ferry terminal, which sends boats to the islet of Videy, across the short channel, while waiting for the Olafsson Museum to open.
Here, then, are a few more scenes of the afternoon.
A view of the “Visitor Center” at Videy, (Vih-DAY), using a Zoom lens from the opposite shore. Even if I had wanted to squeeze in a short ferry ride, the captain was done for the day. This was as close as I was going to get. The mountain in the background is Esja(EsYA), also across a channel from Videy.
I did squeeze in a Volcano Express, virtual reality ride, at Harpa Performance Center. Here is a look at the Center. The ride? Trust me, there was a “whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on”, and we were all strapped in.
Harpa Performance Center, Reykjavik
My overall image of Reykjavik and its residents is summed up by this master work of a graffiti artist who immigrated here about five years ago.
Icelanders, old and new, are thriving by learning to live with the volatile nature of their island home, and putting it to use. (Thermal energy heats homes and purifies water).
A Sagittarian Seeker 