I arrived in Stockholm on September 1 to cold sunshine and the option to wear a jacket. Now, at the onset of autumn and October, I am met with colder wind, required jacket-wearing with the option to wear hat-and-gloves, a little less sunshine, and changing leaves. It's that damp cold here, the kind that digs into your bones, like in Michigan.
Yesterday it was foggy as I left for work, and the sun was fighting to glow through the thick sky.
I feel this place starting to fold up into itself as the weather gets colder. The streets are a little less busy at night. The days get shorter. I have to push myself out of the office at lunchtime, reminding myself to grasp every moment of this fleeting sunshine. And the quietness of fall sets in. It gets crisp. The street sounds sharpen. My cheeks get rosy.
A way to warm up
The other night I spent a little time enjoying one of Scandanavia's favorite pastimes: the bathhouse. A coworker gave me a pass to go to Sturebadet, a beautiful bathhouse in Stureplan.
I walked down the stairs to the pool, and into one the most lovely places I had ever seen. Built in 1902, the design incorporated classic Norse and Moorish accents. The low-lit bathing area was filled with the smell of lavender and fennel, and candles glowed throughout the room. The water was perfect, 30° C. I floated on my back and stared up at the ceiling, letting my ears fill with dense underwater sounds, as I examined the intricate wood latticework pattern hovering over me. What a nice place to be, in quiet warmth on a cold night. I kicked around here for an hour or so, finishing up the night in the sauna, before piling all of my layers back on, damp hair tucked into my big hat, and with a flushed face walked back up to my flat.
