I first set foot in Sweden in 2002. I was 16 and had envisioned visiting for several years at that point. Enamored by visions of clear skies, lush forests, and a society that strived for equality, I had long decided that Sweden was going to be my favorite place on the planet. I enjoyed my visit and vowed to return.
Four years later, I took part in an exchange program between Uppsala Universitet and the University of Colorado at Boulder, where I had been studying journalism – but also history and the Swedish language. I spent a year in Sweden on the exchange with Uppsala had an incredible time, becoming fluent in Swedish – something that has been oddly satisfying despite it being a less-popular language spoken by many who speak English anyways. The time I spent studying in Sweden deepened my love for the country, especially the city of Stockholm.
In the years since I left, I also fell in love with… a guy. Long story short: his name is Ken and I was worried it would never work out because our names rhyme, yet it’s three years later and we’re two peas in a pod. So much that we’d traveled around this country a handful of times and enough to know that I wanted to take him to my favorite place in the world. To me, sharing something I love so dearly with someone else exposes a sort of vulnerability; what if I someday no longer love this person and suddenly my favorite place is tarnished with memories I’d rather wash away? It’s a risk, certainly. But part of loving means opening yourself to vulnerability, and at this point, he already was already tapped in to my love for Sweden, my affinity for dogs, and virtually all of my favorite music. At that point, there’s not much left to give a partner that could be forever changed in the event of a breakup.
It didn’t originate with a desire to take Ken to Sweden anyways. It actually started with some low fares to Copenhagen on Norwegian Airlines way back in February, a few extra bucks in the checking account, and the serendipitous coincidence of our 3rd anniversary together. All of a sudden, I’d be taking my true love to see my other true love: Sweden’s Venice of the North.
By the time September rolled around, some things had changed. I’d spend half of July in Chicago on two separate trips to say goodbye to my grandmother and then lay her to rest. An aunt who had been ill passed, too. On top of that, I needed to find new work. We weren’t deterred from enjoying our Scandinavian trip, but we set upon our travels determined to enjoy it as much as we possibly could. We knew that when we came back, we’d have to think of something new to look forward to – and it probably wouldn’t be as incredible as a trip to Scandinavia.
Before we left, I worried about what we wouldn’t see. I worried that maybe the things I wanted to show Ken weren’t going to be interesting to him. I worried that the weather would not be favorable. I was full of worry.
It turned out that none of my worries even mattered. We didn’t even make it to everything on my list; my favorite painting was locked away due to renovations at the Swedish National Museum, and the photography Kickstarter I backed didn’t start its exhibit until practically the day we were leaving. Those things that had saddened me turned out to be minor. If anything, I realized that I’ll be coming back; there’s no need to make an enjoyable trip much less enjoyable by fretting over things I had no power to change.
There was one worry in particular that didn’t come to fruition, at least not severely: the worry that my Swedish wouldn’t be good enough. My Swedish was more than good enough. I spoke plenty of English along the way because I promised Ken that I wouldn’t isolate him from conversations because of Swedish, so that might’ve helped. But I spoke plenty of Swedish throughout the trip, even in Norway and even sometimes in Denmark (and they didn’t even mind that I am terrible at understanding Danish!).
What we did manage to see was Drottningholm Palace, the Vasa Museum, the Museum of Spirits, plenty of Gamla Stan (including a spooky walking tour!), several gorgeous underground stops, the Nobel Museum, Kungträdsgården, and a handful of small restaurants and coffee shops that afforded us a taste of all the little confections I had been missing in the last decade. And many of those things I’d never really spent time at before. We saw everything we needed to see – at least for that visit – and we had plenty to look forward to for our next visit, whenever that will be.
Is it still my favorite place on the planet? I have yet to find a city I love more in the same way. But I enjoyed it more than I ever had before with Ken by my side, and I can’t wait until we can see Stockholm again.
