Let’s go have a Swedish Fika

I have Stockholm Syndrome. All of the good, none of the bad.

Stockholm Syndrome is a condition which causes hostages to develop a psychological alliance with their captors. Though in this case Stockholm isn’t a captor, rather, a captivator, and I’m here of my own volition and honestly this analogy doesn’t really work but I wrote it before I had any coffee so I thought it made sense.

Don’t you worry, I won’t be quitting my day job anytime soon to become a writer.

Alrighty then, back to Stockholm.

Where do I start? Do I start with their food? The fact that they gave us the musical geniuses otherwise known as ABBA? Do we start with the pretty Scandinavian boys? Or do we talk about the Swedish Fika?

From the first few moments of being in Stockholm I was immediately devastated that I only had 36 hours there. I could have stayed a week. (Perhaps a lifetime if I had found my Swedish prince….where are you? Call me.)

Stockholm’s old town, Gamla Stan, is gorgeous and the perfect size for a day of wanderings. The Vasa museum is one of the coolest museums I’ve seen- it houses a full preserved Swedish ship that sank on its maiden voyage in the 17th century (my favorite “whoopsies” story ever.) And, I sang and danced my heart out at the ABBA museum, having reminded myself that 1. I know almost every word to their songs and 2. I’m still tone deaf.

Stockholm is such a fun city to hang out in, and they’re food isn’t half bad either!

First of all, Swedish meatballs are real and not a brilliant marketing scheme invented by IKEA. (I genuinely believed that until Swedish people told me I had to eat meatballs in Sweden. They also confirmed that IKEA’s meatballs are actually pretty good by Swede standards.)

Speaking of balls, I discovered chocoballs, which are literally balls of chocolate about the size of a mandarin orange. I don’t think that requires further explanation. You can have these during a Swedish Fika, which is a term that describes socializing with pals over coffee and a pastry. Please watch this video for additional information: Swedish Fika

Kanelbullar are pretty dope too- they’re basically cinnamon rolls that don’t feel like you’re going to get diabetes from them. Also acceptable Fika fare.

The one thing that I missed out on was Swedish fish- as I wasn’t aware that the Swedes refer to the candy as pastellfiskar, which like…what?

Anyhoo.

Stockholm sparked an incredible amount of joy for me and I look forward to returning.

While I once dreamt of being swept off my feet by an Emirate prince, I’ve changed the narrative to Scandinavian Viking (they are significantly taller and muscular, and I’m heavier than I look so this is just more practical.)

Guess I’ll need to come back for longer next time to find a Swedish hunk to have a fika with!

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