Tuesday 27 March 2012: Stockholmed
Ok. If you want to go by the meaning of the Urban Dictionary for the Title, you can safely assume that it what happened to me to my one time visit to Stockholm. The name had seduced me over a period time. It along with the other European cities like Prague, Brussels, Venice, Paris and Vienna. And I am glad I was able to get over one of them yesterday, though one day is a short time to get to know a city completely, I at least felt the essence of it, thanks to my workplace. So I am not complaining. Not At all.
Now since the day started at 5 am and ended at 12:30 am, I cannot completely remember what all had happened, and the frames I have seen today, or the ones that my mind had captured like a Polaroid camera but never printed any of them. The train journey to and from the city, my first one in Europe, was one where it seemed that the train was stationary, but the world outside was moving at a fast pace, like that of a moving postcard.
I remember how close the city seemed to be to something of a city that is from my part of the world, but of course in the European way. I remember the greek salad I had for lunch. I remember the Medieval architecture that donned the buildings, the small restaurants for varied cuisines near the central station. I remember the dogs that looked like the paris fashion week models (literally).I remember the woman guard at the Riddarholmskyrkan, or the palace of the princess, built in the 13th Century. I remember the lady and the gentleman who were parting ways for the day at the corner of the street in front of a shop that read "The Coffee Place". I remember the various H&M stores, and the lane that separated the old and the new part of the city.
It felt quite at home, also because of the fact that I could see a MKGandhi's photograph in the restaurant I had lunch, and also the posters of Aishwarya Rai and Deepika Padukone outside the Longines and the Tissot outlets, respectively :)
I wanted to buy the drinking horn as a souvenir, but that would have meant that I would also have to buy the viking helmet to go with it. So I ended up buying a maget of the city, as well as that of a Viking.
Now since the day started at 5 am and ended at 12:30 am, I cannot completely remember what all had happened, and the frames I have seen today, or the ones that my mind had captured like a Polaroid camera but never printed any of them. The train journey to and from the city, my first one in Europe, was one where it seemed that the train was stationary, but the world outside was moving at a fast pace, like that of a moving postcard.
I remember how close the city seemed to be to something of a city that is from my part of the world, but of course in the European way. I remember the greek salad I had for lunch. I remember the Medieval architecture that donned the buildings, the small restaurants for varied cuisines near the central station. I remember the dogs that looked like the paris fashion week models (literally).I remember the woman guard at the Riddarholmskyrkan, or the palace of the princess, built in the 13th Century. I remember the lady and the gentleman who were parting ways for the day at the corner of the street in front of a shop that read "The Coffee Place". I remember the various H&M stores, and the lane that separated the old and the new part of the city.
It felt quite at home, also because of the fact that I could see a MKGandhi's photograph in the restaurant I had lunch, and also the posters of Aishwarya Rai and Deepika Padukone outside the Longines and the Tissot outlets, respectively :)
I wanted to buy the drinking horn as a souvenir, but that would have meant that I would also have to buy the viking helmet to go with it. So I ended up buying a maget of the city, as well as that of a Viking.
Wednesday 28 March 2012: Colours and Constellations
If intoxication was a religion, Europe must have probably been the mecca of it. It is probably the weather along with all the various kinds and tastes and the looks of the elixir that makes it even more a must have for the people living here, and the ones visiting. Surely for someone who enjoys drinking in the limits, this place is heaven. I am probably (definitely) not the right person to tell you what kinds or types or tastes of wine or beer or rum or liquor you get here, but from a onlooker's perspective, and someone who wants to appreciate art and anything that adds to it, I would say that this place comes second to none. When you see a dimly lit corner bar with candles and a mug of beer and people laughing and chatting away to glory, against a street backdrop that has the trams going to and fro, or when you see a high ceiling restaurant in the night with a chandelier and mahogany sofas and tables with candles and rich red wine, and men in suits with one leg over the other and the soft music insulating the outside world from the ambience of the place, you just cannot help but look for a frame to click, since you cannot drink. It is a visually rich array of colors and constellations.
It can either be the guy at the junction with his guitar and a mic singing away on a 4 degree cold night on deserted street, with a beer at his legs and long hair locks flying all haywire, or the clinging of the bottles or the glasses in a bar when the home team scores a goal in a game of football, drinking is everywhere here. And it is similar to controlled aggression. I have definitely not seen in my short time anyone swaying on the streets, or someone begging just to have a gulp of beer for the night. It is strikingly simple tradition that speaks a universal language, and in this case, an artistic one too.
It can either be the guy at the junction with his guitar and a mic singing away on a 4 degree cold night on deserted street, with a beer at his legs and long hair locks flying all haywire, or the clinging of the bottles or the glasses in a bar when the home team scores a goal in a game of football, drinking is everywhere here. And it is similar to controlled aggression. I have definitely not seen in my short time anyone swaying on the streets, or someone begging just to have a gulp of beer for the night. It is strikingly simple tradition that speaks a universal language, and in this case, an artistic one too.
"It is strikingly simple tradition that speaks a universal language, and in this case, an artistic one too."....Wonderful narration of bewtiful experiances. ...All the best. Sreyobhilaashi ...Nutakki Raghavendra Rao. (Kanakaambaram)
ReplyDelete