In March 2000, Mandy and I headed to Stockholm, a city we had always wanted to explore. The cold hit us the moment we stepped off the plane—a sharp, biting chill that only deepened as we made our way to the city center. Despite bundling up, I could feel the icy air creep in. We were ready for adventure, though, so we dove into Stockholm’s winter charm with enthusiasm.
Our first stop was the harbor, partially frozen in the thick winter air. The sight was magical: great sheets of ice clung to the water’s edge, and a few boats bobbed in the gaps, their hulls cracking the icy surface with each movement. The water, a dark steel color, reflected the muted sky and added to the serene, almost haunting beauty of the scene
One of the highlights we’d both looked forward to was the Vasa Museum, home to a beautifully preserved 17th-century warship that had famously sunk on its maiden voyage. As we entered the museum, the grand sight of the Vasa ship left us both in awe. Standing in front of this massive wooden vessel, its intricately carved details still sharp after centuries underwater, felt surreal. The stories of its ill-fated voyage and the efforts to restore it had us both glued to every exhibit.
After spending hours at the museum, we ventured out to the cold streets of Gamla Stan, Stockholm’s old town. The historic neighborhood was magical under a light dusting of snow, its cobbled streets winding through colorful buildings that seemed to tell their own tales of history. Even in the cold, the charm of Gamla Stan was undeniable. Mandy pulled her scarf up around her face as the wind bit at our cheeks, and we wandered down narrow lanes with the occasional warm glow of lights from cozy cafés and shops.