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.