A Youth Backpacker in Europe

Part III Chapter VI-III

Istanbul, from the Golden Horn to Bosphorus

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Take a measly minute to cut out Old Istanbul City from the scarcely available printed Istanbul map and then season with three-drop of creativity juice you squeezed so hard from your rusted brain onto the map. What you will get is not an oyster plate in an extravagant French restaurant, but what Turks call the Golden Horn.

At first I was purely fascinated by the similarity of its shape to a horn, but then relating the many renowned destinations located within the Old Istanbul City district made me realised why the horn is a golden one.

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How could anyone not love Old Istanbul City? Not only it does accommodate the landmark Blue Mosque, the church-turned mosque Haghia Sophia, the massive underground water cistern Yerebatan Sarayi, the bustling Grand Bazaar and Spice Bazaar, and also the resplendent Topkapi Palace, it is also where the best kebab and balik-ekmek could be found abundantly.

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Connecting the Old City to the Modern Istanbul City is the Galata Bridge. Coupled with Galata Tower, these two locations have always been the hottest spot to admire the sunrise, the daylight, the sunset and the night scene of Istanbul, regardless on whether you are revolving around the panoramic viewing platform of the Galata Tower, or standing along the Galata Bridge with hundreds of “fishers”.

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In the Modern City, splendid monuments are not lacking either.  These include the Dolmabaçhe Palace constructed alongside the Bosphorus (also is where I got 90% discount on entry ticket, ha!), Otokol Church that overlooks the simply elegant New Bosphorus Brigde, the buzzing Taksim Square and the shopaholic heaven Istiklal Caddesi.

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On a warm sunny morning in Istanbul, the best indulgence should definitely be a boat trip along the Bosphorus that sails all the way from New Bosphorus Bridge to Old Bosphorus Bridge, which are two absolutely identical bridges uniting firmly Asia and Europe. Not to miss are also the expensive lodges sprawling along the Bosphorus and the fortress of Rumelihisar which I was told to have held concert of Elton John.

 

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And voila! Four paragraphs summarising all the most exciting venues in Istanbul. Bear in mind, it takes days to really digest and appreciate the charm and beauty of these attractions, but it worth the time and apparently the sore feet.

Istanbul, like many other cities in Turkey, crowded. But ironically, the pressure of living is hardly felt. Perhaps it was because I was a tourist. But I was convinced that no matter how busy you are, there is always time for family, for the love one, for friends, for a glass of apple tea under a tree, for an afternoon of fishing on a bridge, for a glimpse of the mesmerising sunset, and a few bites of baklava or Turkish delight.

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Turkey, with picturesque landscapes, heart-warming people, intriguing legends and history, deliciously healthy street cuisine, and exciting adventurous activities, is at least in my opinion, the ultimate travel destination. I rate the country five-star!

 

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A Youth Backpacker in Europe

Part III Chapter VI-II

Istanbul, Unravel the Shopping Story

It was a love imagination which I had shared in the last entry. The truth is the story could never be true. Why?

Although the distance between Grand Bazaar and the Blue Mosque is not a moon away, they are not located next to each other. Second, there isn’t any huge square next to the Grand Bazaar. Perhaps not adjacent to the many entries I had crossed under. The only massive square which I had been to was the one next to Spice Bazaar and the New Istanbul Mosque. As soon as I finished typing this sentence, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is the right location? Anyway, although there are trams connecting where I stayed to Blue Mosque, they aren’t the historic trams along the Istiklal Caddesi.

But of course, despite all the muddle-headed settings, the most sought after answer really is if there was any fling during my visit to Istanbul. Well, as much as I would love to (Gosh! Turkish people are smoking hot!), nothing happened on my five-day visit. Boohoo!

Fortunately, there were numerous consolatory historical monuments in Istanbul. But what I found the most fascinating really was the Istiklal Caddesi, or the Istiklal Avenue. According to my host, it is the most sardine-packing (crowded) street in the world. Not sure if the statement can withstand the challenge by Oxford Street and Regent Street in London, or Time Square in New York, but having over three-million visitor in a single day over the weekend, Istiklal Avenue surely is heaven where adrenaline of shopaholics rushes wildly and uncontrollably. Just be careful of a prospective heart attack though.

And most importantly, it is also where the historic tram crawls between Taksim Square and Tünel, despite the uncertainty of what the latter has got to offer. And even more exhilarating for me, the abundance of Turkish Delights and Baklava! Oh, and the many bars of Turkish chocolates carelessly displayed on the glass window of any tiny kiosk one could easily spot along the avenue. My chocoholic worms were biting! Hard! Ouch!

Nevertheless, the many bazaars were still the most culturally enriched destinations in Istanbul. Personal preference would definitely be the Spice Bazaar over Grand Bazaar. The colours and the smell of spices, teas, Turkish delights, and many more bizarre offerings were simply irresistible.

Undoubtedly, the Grand Bazaar, as the name suggested, grande (humongous)! But unless with a clear agenda for gold, jewelleries and leather, or maybe even carpets, Grand Bazaar wasn’t at all grand (splendid). And lest you think that your extraordinary bargaining skill in Indonesia will work the same magic here, shop owners tend to get pissed off easily and never hesitate to publicly humiliate you as cheapskate if you make an extreme low offer in the initial negotiation.

Not only souvenirs that constantly haunt you to keep spending, the persistent invitations of the many street meals were also insanely hard to decline. I was especially a fan to the cheap, fresh, delicious, and wait-me-no-more balik-ekmek, or the fish sandwiches. They were two-euro each, but roughly as big as a size ten shoe, absolutely massive! But two at a time was no challenge for me! Of course, kebab! Doner! Gosh! The waistline was expanding!

It really was hard to resist the temptation to spend money and more money in Istanbul. Native Turkish used to complain the soaring high living cost in the capital, but from a foreigner’s (a European in this context) perspective, it really was cheap! So cheap before you realise you have burnt a hole in your wallet from the heat of excessively swiped credit card. And that means another boohoo!

 

 

 

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A Youth Backpacker in Europe

Part III Chapter VI

Istanbul, the Magic Love City

When it comes to Istanbul, I used to have this imagination.

It was eerily early in the morning, just about the time when the first ray of morning sunshine cracked the dawn. Dressed in a light buttoned dirty green shirt and in a pair of Prussian blue jeans, I departed from hotel and headed towards the giant square between the Blue Mosque and the Grand Bazaar.

Standing in a crowded but far from sardined bright red tram in Istanbul city centre, the so called historic tram that has for years enjoyed the leading role among Istanbul postcards, my mind has already been drifted to the giant square. The excitement of snapping gorgeous national geographic standard photos had already caused an unrecognised adrenaline rush within my body.

I paid no attention to any commuter. I was fully immersed in my own thought.

“Next station, Sultanahmet,” the identical voice of the sexy station calling lady conveyed through the speaker. Sultanahmet, or Blue Mosque, or my destination.

I breathed in the morning freshness. The blend between the apple tea fragrance and the breeziness of ocean injected an unfamiliar sense of ecstasy in me. However, before the wilderness got out of my control, I was tamed by the reverberation of morning prayer delivered from the Blue Mosque.

It was just the way I love about Istanbul, the fight between the buzz, the calmness, the nature, and the artificial to concur the emotion of every human being in the city. It was magical.

Following the ray of sunlight, I started my main task in the morning, the capture of the prettiest portray of Istanbul. The minarets and decorative façade of Blue Mosque, the emptiness of the giant square and the crowds of pigeons scattering around the square, and the golden lights penetrated through the narrow entry of the Grand Bazaar. The camera had never been so joyous before. Every facet of Istanbul Old City looked absolutely fascinating, from the camera or through the window of my eyes.

Sitting on a bench scrutinising the pictures via the camera screen while blanketing my body with the morning sunshine, something caught my attention. I raised my head with a target in my mind instantaneously. Shouldn’t be too far away. It was seconds before I realised the presence of this gorgeous fella that looked right into my camera with an absolutely seducing smile.

But there was no one. I rose and quickly paced myself to where the fella was standing. My eyes scouted around with no success. Feeling disappointed, I stared at the screen, or more precisely the fella in the screen once more. That’s it?

“First time in Istanbul?” an unfamiliar voice carrying the Turkish accent delivered from my back. I turned around and there was the fella. The thrill of “lost and found” dominated my entire soul. I made a silly smile but remained speechless. The other end, which by now handling an apple tea to me, was nothing but confused.

Unknowing the reason, this imagination casted in my mind since the first time I learnt about Istanbul from television. And thereafter, I told myself, it is where the love of my life will come. Istanbul, it has made quite an impression even before my arrival. Did I experience what I had imagined? You know the answer, join me next time.

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A Youth Backpacker in Europe

Part III Chapter V-III

Cappadocia, Ascending for a Quarter Century

I imagined it would be a glaring ray of light, so harsh to the eyes and even hurtful for just a sneak peek. I reckoned it was a once in a life time opportunity to indulge sunrise at this altitude without the complication of climbing up a hill early in the morning.

Gazing at a distant view, it wasn’t beaming shine from the rising sun. Snow had really hindered the warmth of sunrise from joyfully blanketing the lunar landscape in the land of beautiful horses and it had magically “shortened” the reach of sunlight. But it was still the same viewing ease, the same smooth sail in a serene and calm dawn.

I hesitated for a period lengthy enough to be deemed endless before I eventually decided to splurge 150Euros on this extravagant trip. It was not because of the availability, it was not because Cappadocia was remarked as one of the most beautiful places for it. It was an ascending celebration of a quarter century that I desired to pamper myself with. It was an indelible hot air balloon trip during my 25 year old birthday.

Turkey had always been the country I longed to visit the most. When the opportunity arrived and coincided with my biggest turning point in life up to date – turning 25 – I visited Turkey for a search of inspiration. And when the hot air balloon reached the altitude where I was literally united with clouds, I looked down at the wonderful nature down the little basket I was in. I told myself: Why do we need to get so high up to really understand that we are actually looking for a firm ground to step on?

Hot air balloon trip was undoubtedly an expensive purchase. While enjoyed my inclusive light breakfast and waited for the balloon to get filled up with warm air in the vast balloon field, I couldn’t help myself but still drowning in the guilt of luxurious indulgence.

However, the guilty conscience slowly faded away when I saw “my” balloon growing from flat to bulgy and it was absolutely impossible to hide the excitement when I was called to start the journey. What was it like ascending in air with hot air balloon? It was identical to the impression of a mountain hike where you were stunned with breathtaking view prior to your knowledge.

Riding on a hot air balloon during winter was surely very distinctive compared to the same flight in summer. There were patchy snow flakes covering the earth surface instead of the exposure of naked volcanic earth formation. However, if your pilot is experienced, sailing along the narrow valley in between the unique lunar landscape would definitely beat the price tag and supply immense pleasure.

It was the highlight of my planned Cappadocia trip. But it wasn’t without (unplanned) companies. An eager invitation from my host in Cappadocia had seen me sitting in a lecture in university. And before I knew it, I was holding a marker pen teaching English in front of university students.

It was indeed an absolutely bizarre but enjoyable experience and I wouldn’t believe if anyone has had similar experience as me during their ordinary travels. Well, it wasn’t the type of grand lecture hall that can accommodate 500 students without challenge. Instead, it was a lovely middle age rural Greek style house that was transformed into lecture room. But hey, it was the experience that matters!

Did I also mentioned how my host in Cappadocia brought me to the one and only local Greek pub, requested a change of music to song I like, and held a cute little cake in his hands while walking himself through the throng of dancing fellows and sang birthday song to me?

A hot air balloon gift I bought for myself, an unforgettable birthday celebration from my host, and a surprise experience of becoming half a day university lecturer. What more could I ask for the birthday celebration that marks my presence for a quarter century?

 

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A Youth Backpacker in Europe

Part III Chapter V-II

Cappadocia II, from Uchisar to Ihlara

There were three prominent colours in Cappadocia, the red, the green and the blue. It was not a reference to the layers of colour vividly crafted on the cliff face of the renowned eerie lunar landscape over the course of centuries that can keep your eyes glued for hours. Neither does the colourful balloons that sailed through the sky when darkness was replaced by grey dawn are applicable in this context.

They were, at certain extent which I would strongly condemn as one of the sadness of commercial exploitation, the coloured guided tours recognised widely across the tourism industry in Cappadocia. Confused if it was a cliché that the challenge to capture the land of beautiful horses on one’s own was profusely immense, or it was just a catchphrase of tour organisers to deceive tourists to surrender their wallets.

Nevertheless, I wet my feet in this tourism dye vat and got myself coloured red and green in two days. To my surprise, it was agreeable that these tours were worthwhile investments, especially when substantial chunk of the payment went to admission tickets, dining in a restaurant and pick-ups that might altogether cost a great deal of hassle if not a bomb.

The red tour focused at areas surrounding Göreme where the biggest attraction was definitely the Göreme Open Air Museum. It was a massive collection of rock churches excavated deep inside the lunar landscape, often with strange names such as apple church and decorated by monotonously coloured frescoes. These frescoes do come in standard format as well. They were either human drawings with eyes dug out – it was said that invaders found the staring from the paintings uncomfortable – or geometry shapes intended for the conveyance of bible knowledge.

But what I found to be the most exciting portion of the red tour was the visit to fairly chimneys field, a dominant natural attraction in Cappadocia. It was a combination of volcanic eruption and weathering process that had created this magnificent feature. They looked like mushrooms, and were often disgustedly interpreted as a metaphor for giant penises by my American tour mates. It was sheer unfortunate that the snow had altered the natural colour of these fairy chimneys, though risking broken arms and legs to walk in the fairy valley was still feasible.

On the other hand, snow fall had magically added interesting flavour to the green tour where a 4km hike along the Star Wars alike Ihlara Valley, located some 50km away from Göreme was the crown of the tour. The snow covered valley along the Ihlara River had undoubtedly magnified the hardship for a smooth hiking, but the impressive surrounding images it helped to produce was unbeatable and deserve undivided attention of hikers. That could be interpreted as an abuse case to memory capacity of camera too.

Also a highlight of the green tour was the 8-floor Derinkuyu underground city. Even with only 10 percent of the entire underground city was opened for public, it was sufficient for visitors to grasp an unforgettable idea of how creatively and intelligently the underground city was constructed in the past as a war shelter. With the very lively and interestingly seasoned description from my tour guide, it was hardly impossible to imagine the survival of people for months some 55m beneath land surface for months.

So much about the various tourist destinations in Cappadocia, it really was to convey the idea of why Cappadocia should definitely be prioritised in a visit to Turkey. But my most memorable event in Cappadocia was yet to come. Join me next time for the slowest flight a kilometre above ground and the smallest but cutest cake I had for a quarter century celebration.

 

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A Youth Backpacker in Europe

Part III Chapter V-I

Cappadocia, the Impression

Remained stagnant on the back of a hardy black horse at the top edge of an endless cliff formation where the eerie lunar landscape was crafted. Gazing under the blazing hot sun, the even land encompassed by the breathtaking cliff formation showed no sign of vegetation and was equally unbounded. The occasional breeze that soothed the scorching heat in a bright summer day was accompanied by the inner rhythms that yearned for eternal freedom.

It was the identical film setting which one would find in one of those Eastern big budget epic productions that guaranteed a wow from the audiences. But it was this kind of impressiveness that imposed my mind with an unexplainable imagination during my fortuitous Cappadocia encounter.

Perhaps it was the picturesque scenery that had driven the imagination engine to mass produce such incredible images. Or maybe it was the implication of the name Cappadocia, or Katpatuka that means the land of beautiful horses. Cappadocia surged from the middle of nowhere to an inconvertible choice for holiday destination. I was reassured after my trip, despite the terribly wrong setting, that Cappadocia should remain at the very top on the list of everyone visiting Turkey.

Reminisce the very first sight that came into the curtains of my eyes on a late afternoon short bus journey to Göreme village, the hidden city, it was an absolutely dazzling and gasping welcome.

Wow… It was the lengthy sigh uttered coincidently by almost every single passenger in the bus, followed by a bizarre silence. Everyone, including myself was mesmerised to the extent that our eyes were literally glued to the offer outside the window.

Regardless of the meandering direction led by the bus, passengers were turning their heads from left to right, from front to back in a near perfect synchronised movement. No one wanted to miss a sight of this drop dead gorgeous and absolutely stunning surrounding, even when everyone was spending at least a day for a proper digestion of the beauty of nature.

Yes, it was undoubtedly the charm of Cappadocia that had awakened the greedy human nature and you have to experience it personally the diversity of the attractions around Cappadocia in order to comprehensively fathom how it could dominate the realm of natural beauty.

Bewildered, I wasn’t sure should I consider my three and half day stay in Cappadocia a fortunate event. The torrid romance with horses which I had created in my mind prior to my arrival varnished after the first night. The possibly last snow marking the end of winter paid an unsolicited visit at the first night of my visit.

The snow was heavy enough to result the entire Cappadocia being snow capped after a night – a disastrous setting for my own film set. Speechless at first, I was then slowly picked up the momentum to appreciate the completely different facet of Cappadocia.

The longed intimate action with the unique eerie lunar landscape formed by the combining agents of volcanic eruption and weathering process was dismissed due to the blizzard. Fortunately, my loss was compensated by the plentiful unforgettable activities during the remaining of the trip.

Although it was not the faultless setting I would like to engage myself in, Cappadocia remains as the ultimate destination for travel in my opinion. Thanks Fiona for the recommendation.

 

 

 

 

 

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A Youth Backpacker in Europe

Part III Chapter IV

Konya, the Mecca of Turkey

Visiting Turkey without visiting Konya is similar to skipping pyramid in Egypt or missing Eiffel Tower in Paris. Islamic culture is prevalent in the entire Turkey as 98% of the population in is Muslim, although the influence was evidently less significant in metropolises where the daily five prayers routine was hardly religiously followed. Also noteworthy was the rumour of pork eating culture in Turkey.

However, in Konya, the heart of the whole Turkish Islamic culture, religion peaked. Mosques were established at literally every corner in the city. The reverberation of prayers from these mosques echoed the entire city exactly five times a day, which by itself was a pleasant reminiscence of my university life in Malaysia.

Ironically, Konya was also a disparaging place of native Turks, outside Konya. I recalled the facial expression of them whenever they learnt about my Konya plan. I swear the uniformity of their facial expression wasn’t a coincidence but a general consensus of their dislike to people living in Konya. “Konyan” to them was just a horde of religion freaks demonstrate frantic excitement to religion.

And so I was terrified and wondered if my only night in Konya was going to render a restless night of worry of being different. However, a twist of the story was seen right upon my arrival.

Case study #1:

Lost in the massive Konya bus station, I had zero idea the direction that led me to the nearest tram station for my very first Turkish host. Enquired locals and waited their direction with bated breath proved to be a pathetic experience – hardly anyone spoke English or at least understood my question.

Not giving up, I approached a young man clearly seemed to be accompanying her girlfriend at that moment. Phew! English conversation finally! He then walked me to the tram station, waited with me, informed the tram driver to give me a shout at my destination and settled my fee with his student tram card.

Case study #2:

At my host, interestingly without the presence of my host, the only entertainment was to kill the boredom by chit-chatting with the co-hosts who unfortunately didn’t speak English. Despite the communication barrier, I was cooked a big meal and was restricted access to only fresh breads during the meal, whilst my co-hosts were having the less fresh ones.

Case study #3:

Trying to catch a tram to Mevlana Museum, the only and biggest attraction in Konya, where the whirling dervishes ceremony was originated, I was again challenged with direction. Approached a girl in veil, who then revealed her student identity, I was pleasantly surprised with her offer to skip class and led me to my destination.

Sensing the inappropriateness to cause such a trouble, I politely rejected. But she, together with her friend whom we met after got off the tram, insisted to bring me to a local eatery and bought me huge breakfast, wished me a wonderful time in Konya, before waving goodbye unwillingly to me.

The friendliness and hospitality of people living in Konya were stupendous. The guilty conscience of the inner self condemning my previous unjustified presumption prior to my arrival surged and was drowning me with shame. Why do people outside Konya labelled Konya with such a despicable remark? I was profoundly confused.

It was bitterly cold during my visit to Konya. But the warmth of the people clearly had overwhelmed the attraction in the city. Leaving Konya with a smile on my face, I started my imagination of a horseback riding in  Cappadocia.

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Chapter II Part I

Stockholm, the capital of Scandinavia

City: Stockholm
Country: Sweden
Currency: Swedish Krona (1€ = 9.4 SEK)
Travel dates: 27 Dec 2007 – 30 Dec 2007
Accommodation: Archipelago Hostel
Travel buddies: Egon, Clare, Rahma, Siddharth, Stella, Meghan

Caption: Stockholm in the morning

It was in the afternoon of Dec 27, when the six of us took our first international train crossing the border of Norway-Sweden, to our second destination of the grand trip, Sweden. Taking trains in Scandinavia could be really pricey if you fail to get the minipris ticket. Our initial ticket price could go up to 900SEK.

Fortunately, the train ticket which we booked months before our trip only costed 96SEK, which is dirt cheap in the eyes of Scandinavians. Of course, we were not excluded in the possession of such opinion. In fact, this is the beauty of travelling by trains in Europe. Tip: Book your train ticket as early as possible.

It was a long journey. We reached Sweden only at night, after 7 hours of keeping our butts glued to the luxurious train seats. However, the fresh air which welcomed us from the moment we stepped out from the train station was totally refreshing. Despite the fact that we were dragging monstrous luggages containing food leftover from Oslo, we eagerly scrutinised the every facet of this capital of Scandinavia in the dark by paying close attention to every buildings.

Of course, the only things we saw were merely shades of buildings and scattered neon lights. However, Sweden remained very impressive in our eyes. Indeed, the first impression might mislead us since the comparison was only made relatively to Oslo, the only capital we have seen in Europe. But it actually also means that our curiosity to explore the city was escalating.

Caption: Gamla Stan in the morning. Notice how narrow is the street.

Our hostel, Archipelago Hostel, is situated in the middle of Gamla Stan, the old town of Sweden which is an island itself, and is only about 10 minutes of walking from the train station. The walk along the main street of Gamla Stan was fascinating. The coluourful lights from the building and the few bunches of celebrating crowd on the street clearly told us, Christmas had ended and it was time to get back to parties.

Getting into our hostel, we were only welcomed by an envelope with key inside. Slowly opening the door of our room, we were filled with immense anticipation. Would it be as decent as Anker Hostel in Oslo? The door was fully opened, and without hesitation, our hearts plunged into the deepest valley of our body, our jaws dropped as if the hinges of the jaw muscles were experiencing malfunction.

It was a nightmare, a complete disaster!

Three double-deckers, for six people, in an area of less than ten metres square?

Unimaginable!

Soon after the shock, our sense of condolence started to work its magic wand, we appreciated the fact that we were kept in the same room with no strangers. But still, the immaculate impression of Sweden was scarred with this imperfection and burst in the middle of air. Our expectation to Stockholm gradually decreased with the time. Convincing ourselves Stockholm would be exciting, we went to bed with again, anticipations.

Caption: No exaggeration in the description of the hostel, right?

Waked up late in the morning, we were welcomed by a beam of sunlight penetrating through the huge glass windows in our room. Wasn’t this supposed to be in the winter? We had no complain as sun is always welcome. We spent our day wandering around Gamla Stan, Skeppsholmen, Skansen and Ostermalm. All these are islands of which Stockholm is formed. If you haven’t known about Stockholm, it is actually a city consists of 14 islands where Lake Mälaren meets the Baltic Sea. Therefore, islands-hopping is the top tourist attraction in Stockholm.

Unfortunately, we were visiting Stockholm at the wrong season. Boats for islands hopping were all out of service in the winter even though the sea surface was not frozen. Slightly disappointed after considering the cost of a boat trip, we resumed our endless walk on different islands.

There weren’t a lot of things going on in Stockholm during the winter season. However, our anticipation a night before was met. Stockholm truly deserves to be named the capital of Scandinavia. With all the mega-sized building dated centuries back in the history, one couldn’t resist himself in taking loads of pictures of them. The buildings in the city clearly revealed the age of this fairly young ancient city.

A walk in the Gamla Stan was especially attractive. The uniqueness of the slender buildings of no more than four floors high, attached to each other with very narrow pedestrians’ paths in between was surely sufficient to drown one with cultures. Tiny shops with tonnes of souvenirs targeting the wallet of tourists were simply more than enough that a tourist can digest. And most importantly, Swedish doesn’t like to confine themselves to their homes as much as Norwegian. Walking side by side with Stockholm-ians brought our enjoyment to the highest and melted our barrier as foreigners. For one second, we had totally forgotten the role of tourists.

Caption: At Gamla Stan where Clare was with her monstrous candy (left) and Meghan was getting a kiss

After spending much time impressing ourselves with extraordinary souvenirs in Gamla Stan, we reached Djurgården by foot after stopping by at a boat selling marzipan. I am not a fan of museum, but in Stockholm, you have to visit Vasamuseet in Djurgården. It is a museum presenting the fully intact Vasa ship which sank on her maiden voyage. After a long day walking around different islands, we came to the museum approaching its closing time, which means we were sadly having to give a pass to this famous museum.

Continued with our walk under the rain (the nasty Scandinavian weather was obviously having no exception in Stockholm), we reached Kaknästower – tv tower in Stockholm. It is a bit costly to ascend to the cosy café located at the top of the tower. However, if getting a 360 degree view of the massive archipelago capital is your cup of tea, it is definitely worth the money.

Again, unluckiness didn’t willing to separate itself from us, we only managed to catch a blur glimpse of Stockholm’s night view under the rain. However, getting a shelter after drenching ourselves soaking wet in nearly zero degree coldness, with rain, for more than six hours, the café seemed to be heaven.

Shortly before the café was closing, we headed back to Stockholm new town, Norrmalm. This time, we decided to take bus as the rain was started to pour mercilessly.

Norrmalm is a totally different face of Stockholm. You will never find the richness of history in this new town area. However, what you could get is the lively shopping district for your retail therapy. For one moment, I was questioning myself whether was I staying in Tokyo from the resemblance of the surroundings in Norrmalm to Tokyo.

Caption: Shopping at old town, Gamla Stan (left) and new town, Norrmalm

Not intending to burn our pockets despite the fact that winter sale which had just started two days ago was absolutely alluring, we headed back to hostel along Drottninggatan, the main street of Norrmalm which connects to the main street in Gamla Stan for our dinner.

However, we paused and we decided to stop in the middle of the street, in front of a restaurant. Clare insisted that we should have at least a proper meal during the trip. We agreed, without realising that this proper meal suggestion would turn to a proper-meal-per-city policy during the entire winter trip.

The restaurant was named D6, which simply means Drottninggatan 6. Ordered four different cuisines at a surprisingly reasonable price with approximately 100SEK per person, it was definitely the best expense on this far of the journey. One of the most interesting dish, which is also a must try for tourists was the Swedish meatballs.

Served together with cranberry sauce, the saltiness of the meatball and the sourness and sweetness from the cranberry distinctly distinguished the specialty of Swedish meatballs with ordinary meatballs. Savouring the taste of Swedish meatballs in Sweden was undoubtedly different from having it in Ikea. And for this reason, I stopped questioning myself about the ingredient of the meatball but to fully immerse myself in the tantalising meatballs’ world.

Caption: Swedish meatballs with cranberry sauce in Restaurant D6

Stockholm, after our first day of visit, was totally impressive. Our expectation to this capital was never running this high before we went to bed. What would be in stock for us in the coming day? We were curiously waiting…

(to be continued)

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