Refuge: in a quirky corner of Stockholm.Stockholm: so depressing like all the rest. There they are, all lining up in an orderly manner - Debenhams, Body Shop, French Connection, Toni and Guy ... ; the same old con artists and three-card tricksters, the usual corny ancient buses and horse-drawn carts for sight-seeing, even the pick and mix sweet selection is identical - why is it so difficult to find a really unique city? Do they still exist? I'm thinking, I'm thinking really hard - perhaps Venice? Any other nominations?
And I have to get through three more cities before my next wilderness.
Now you know why I need a gentle rehabilitation to city life. I get to Stockholm on the quaint and ancient Inlandsbanan. The driver is happy to stop the train at passengers' requests - he's only going 40km/h, anyway. My fellow passengers all seem to be train enthusiasts - the tiny Inlandsbanan museum at Sorsele has them ecstatic. Then there's the bridge that doubles as a rail and car bridge, and they all pile out for photos. I wander along next to the engine to stretch my legs, and am instantly yelled at for messing up their photos - I really don't get it! I sulk back to my seat and plug into my Sami yoik music - my umbilical cord to the mountain wilderness. I am not finding the return to populated living easy.
There is no dining car on the Inlandsbanan, but orders phoned ahead by the conductor magics up a woman and a table on the next tiny station with sandwiches, pies and drinks. The conductor marshals everyone into an efficient queue, and yes, that's me in the corner opting out of all this conformity yet again.
Mora doesn't help, either - such a super-efficient, tidy town - not a single car travelling above the speed limit and nobody crossing the road at anywhere apart from zebra crossings - now why is all that hooting following me around the town? The boats on the lake line up like the Household Cavalry on parade and even the elderly are wheelchaired out in a straight crocodile for their afternoon airing. How do these people express their individuality?
And then Stockholm, with its orderly streets and obedient queuers who take the obligatory ticket the moment they walk into - well anywhere, really, and wait till their number is called. Well okay, I'll forgive Stockholm because I found one quirky street in the cobbled old town - Mårten Trotzigs Gränd is only one metre wide!
